by John Norman
I did not know what to do. I did not know how to act.
“I am free,” I cried to myself, “I am free! Free!”
But I was half naked and my hands were braceleted behind me. Each step, too, was taking me closer to the room!
I wished that I had never seen slaves, and the house of Kliomenes. I wished I had never known how beautiful they were, and how they were dominated by men, and must obey!
I wished that I had never felt these powerful emotions, in all their irresistibility, profundity and depth! But then I knew that this was false. It is better to feel than not to feel. I was overwhelmingly moved by having seen slaves, and thrilled to have been permitted, even on a license, to see the house of Kliomenes. Even though I myself was surely not a slave my life, I knew, was a thousand times richer for having realized that such things existed, for having seen such basic, deep, human and real things.
“How do you know that you are not a slave, Tiffany?” I asked myself. “How do you know that you are different from those other girls? How do you know that you are not, as Publius suggested, a natural slave? How do you know the collar would not be quite appropriate for you? How do you know it does not, in fact, rightfully belong on you?”
“No,” I said to myself, almost poutingly, “I am free!”
Then something within me, frightening me, seemed to laugh, derisively. “You are a slave, Tiffany,” it said. “You know you are a slave. You have known it, in one way or another, in your heart, for years.”
“No!” I said to myself. “No!”
“But, yes, Slave,” said the voice within me, insistently, derisively, mocking me. “No!” I said. “Yes,” it whispered. “Yes, yes.”
I wondered if I was a slave. The thought thrilled me, and terrified me.
Why had Drusus Rencius not freed me from the bracelets!
We were not now in the house of Kliomenes!
“I will release you in the room,” he had said.
Why would he not release me now? Why could he not be of help to me? Could he not see how I was fighting myself!
I wondered if she who was helpless in his bracelets was a slave.
Oddly enough I had felt most a slave, most dominated, in the house of Kliomenes when, in the office of Publius, the men had talked, and I had knelt alone and to one side, my head down, in the light, neglected, braceleted, waiting for the men, the masters, to finish.
I hurried along in the alley behind Drusus Rencius.
I tried to fight the emotions rising in me, welling up, irresistibly, from my very depths. I was confused and torn. In me conditioning warred with nature. Men were the masters. Did they not know that? Why did they not enforce their power, their will on us? Could they not see what we wanted, what we needed? Were they so inattentive and insensitive? Were they so stupid, so blind? Could they not see that I, in order to attain my perfection, needed the weight of a chain, the taste of a whip? Could they not see that I could not be perfect until my will was taken from me, and I must serve willlessly!
Could they not see that this was what I wanted? I was not man. I was a woman! I wanted to surrender to nature, but feared, mightily, to do so. I sensed what a woman might become if she surrendered to nature. I scarcely dared think it, let alone speak it. How categorical, how fearful, how absolute and such a thing would be! Yet I longed for it. I wished a man would throw me to my belly and lock a collar on my throat.
I wished to lie trembling at his feet, in the shadow of his whip, knowing that thenceforth, whether I wished it or not, I existed for love, passion and service.
“Leading position,” said Drusus Rencius. I swiftly put my head down and felt his fingers lock themselves deeply in my hair. I turned my head and pressed my lips suddenly, helplessly, to his thigh, kissing him. He twisted my head cruelly to the side, holding it there, turned, so that my lips could not touch him. My eyes brimmed with tears, not only from the pain, but more so, from the fact that I had been rejected.
We had then passed the stranger, approaching, in the alley.
Drusus Rencius released my hair, and I straightened up, continuing to follow him.
We were almost at the back entrance of the inn of Lysia.
I had been rejected!
How furious I was at the girl who had so helplessly kissed the leg of Drusus Rencius. How she had humiliated and embarrassed me, the shameless tart! I hated and despised her. Where had she come from? Who was she? Surely she could not have been I!
We were then at the back entrance of the inn of Lysias.
“Kneel here,” said Drusus Rencius, indicating a place near back entrance, near some garbage cans.
I knelt, immediately, obediently.
He entered the inn. He would see if anyone was about, or we might, unobserved, make our way up the back stairs to room.
I moaned softly, with need.
I knelt near tile back entrance of the inn, near the garbage bins. I pulled weakly against the bracelets.
I looked up, suddenly, startled. A man was standing there, looking at me. He had come, apparently, from down the alley. I put down my head, swiftly, so swiftly that it almost startled me, showing submission. I had seen his eyes. I was terribly frightened.
Then back door of the inn opened and Drusus, to my relief, emerged.
“She is not out for use?” asked the man.
“No,” said Drusus. “Sorry.” He then snapped his fingers and I leaped up and, at a gesture, preceded him into the inn, up the rear stairs.
I was trembling. I was sure that in another moment or two I, utterly helpless, might have been seized and penetrated in the alley.
In a moment, then, we were again in the room, and Drusus had locked the door behind us.
I leaned back against the door, my head back, breathing deeply. “He thought you had been put out for raping,” said Drusus, chuckling to himself.
I looked at him.
“Did you enjoy the house of Kliomenes?” asked Drusus.
How absurd to me seemed the lightness, the casual cast, of his question. The experience had been an incredibly meaningful one for me. Scarcely never before, I think, had I been so in touch with my femaleness. It was hard to conceive of how one could be more in touch with one’s femaleness, unless, of course, one were oneself a slave.
Drusus Rencius looked at me. Then I went to where he stood, and knelt down before him.
He looked down at me, angrily, startled. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Kneeling down before you,” I said, “helpless, braceleted, as a woman before a man.”
His fists were clenched.
“If you want me,” I said, “have me.”
“Get up!” he cried. Then he seized me by the upper arms and pulled me to my feet. He held me before him.
“Taste the slave in me,” I begged.
He looked down into my eyes, fiercely. His grip on my arms, holding me absolutely helplessly, was like iron.
“Oh, would that you were a slave,” he whispered, intensely. “Would that you were a slave!”
He then, lifting me from my feet as though I might have been no more than a doll, suddenly, violently, with a cry of rage, flung me from him, yards from him, to the surface of the bed. On the bed I scrambled to my knees. The wall was at my back.
There were sounds from outside the window, cries in the street.
Drusus Rencius went to the window, listening. “Corcyrus,” he said, “has seized the mines of Argentum. It has begun.”
“What has begun?” I asked, frightened.
“War,” said Drusus Rencius.
“I will return you to the palace, immediately,” he said. He indicated that I should lie on my belly on the bed before him. I did so and, lying on the bed, my head turned to the side, sunk partly in its softness, felt the bracelets removed from me.
I rose from the bed, pulling down the edges of the brief, one-piece garment I wore. Drusus Rencius returned the slave bracelets to his pouch. “My garments, please,” I said. I would have h
im serve me. He handed me my garments. I retired behind the screen and, in a few moments, re-emerged.
“Lady Sheila will require a new guard,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I will not.”
He looked at me, surprised.
“You are not relieved of your duties,” I said. “You are still my guard, and will continue to serve me as such.”
“Lady Sheila well knows how to torture a man,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
He regarded me, bitterly.
“Return me now to the palace,” I said.
“Yes, Tatrix,” he said.
Chapter 9 - I DETERMINE TO TAKE COGNIZANCE IN THE CITY
I stood by the barred window in my quarters, looking out. I could see portions of the courtyard below, sections of the inner walls and the first of the two gates leading to the outside. I could also see, back from the walls, a portion of the square outside the gates. Most of the crowd outside the gates I could not see. I could see some men and women moving across the square, presumably to join it. It was the second such crowd in the past week. I saw some men, across the square, perhaps seeing someone in my window, stop, and shake their fists. I moved away from the window.
“Mistress!” cried Susan, entering with a tray, stopping suddenly, spilling wine. She looked at me, with the sudden terror of a slave who had been clumsy. “Forgive me, Mistress!” she cried. “I will clean it up immediately!”
I watched her while she put down the tray, picked up the goblet, and hurried to fetch cloths and water. In a moment she was on her hands and knees, frightened, cleaning the floor. I myself, of course, a woman of wealth and position, a Tatrix even, was above such tasks. They were properly to be performed by lesser women. Ideally, of course, they fell to those women for whom they were perfectly suited, slaves.
“Susan,” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said, looking up from her hands and knees, frightened.
“Why did you spill the wine?” I asked.
“I am sorry, Mistress!” she said.
“Why did you spill it?” I asked. She had seemed surprised.
“I was startled, Mistress,” she said. “I had not expected to find you here. I had thought that I had seen you in an anteroom off the great hall, only some Ehn earlier.”
“You were mistaken,” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said.
“There is another crowd outside the gate this evening,” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.
“It is an angry crowd again, is it not?” I asked.
“I fear so, Mistress,” said the girl.
I went to the barred window, and looked out. I could hear the crowd but, because of the walls and gates, could see very little of it.
“I think guardsmen will soon issue forth to disperse it,” said Susan.
“Can you make out what they are shouting, what they want?” I asked, lightly.
“No, Mistress,” said Susan, putting down her head.
“I can make it out quite clearly, from the window,” I said irritably.
“Forgive me, Mistress,” said Susan.
“Speak,” I said.
“They call for the blood of the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” she said, “whom they call tyranness and villainess of Corcyrus.”
“But, why?” I asked. “Why?”
“I do not know, Mistress,” said Susan. “There are scarcities in the city. They may be angry about the progress of the War!”
“But the war goes well,” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” said Susan, putting her head down.
There was then a heavy knock at the door. “Ligurious, first minister of Corcyrus,” announced a voice, that of a guard.
“Enter,” I said.
The door opened and Ligurious, with his imposing stature, yet leonine grace, entered. He bowed to me, and I inclined my head to him.
At his entrance Susan put the palms of her hands on the floor and lowered her head to the tiles, assuming a position of slave obeisance common with her in the presence of her master. I wondered if Ligurious’s slave master required this position of all of his women. I supposed so.
Ligurious looked down at her, irritably. It was clear what she had been doing.
“Was it she who spilled the wine?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“If you do not wish to exert yourself,” he said, “I can have her whipped for you.”
“It is all right,” I said. “She is only a stupid, meaningless slave.
“Run along, Susan,” I said. “You can finish later.”
“Yes, Mistress,” said Susan, leaping up, darting away.
“Tonight,” said Ligurious, “I will give her to guardsmen. She will dance the whip dance, naked.” There are many whip dances on Gor, of various sorts. In a context of this sort, presumably not in a tavern, and without music, the girl is expected to move, writhe and twist seductively before strong men. If she does not do well enough, if she is insufficiently maddeningly sensuous, the whips fall not about her, but on her. When one of the men can stand it no longer be orders her to his mat where, of course, she must be fully pleasing. If he is not, then she is whipped until she is. Then, when one man is satisfied, the dance begins again, and continues in this fashion until all are satisfied, or tire of the sport.
“How goes the war?” I said.
“I have come to report another glorious victory,” said Ligurious. “This one has occurred on the Plains of Eteocles.”
“The enemy, then,” I said, “is east of the Hills of Eteocles, it is through the Pass of Theseus.”
“You have been examining maps?” inquired Ligurious.
“I made inquiries,” I said. He knew I could not read. I was illiterate in Gorean.
“I see,” he said.
I heard men shouting, and the rattle of weaponry outside, down in the courtyard.
I hurried to the barred window.
“Those will be guardsmen,” said Ligurious, “issuing forth to disperse the rabble.”
“Yes,” I said. I could see a double line of guardsmen, with shields and spears, exiting through the gates. In a moment, too, I could see men and woman fleeing across the square.
“Those are small groups of dissidents,” said Ligurious. “Pay them no mind. You are loved in Corcyrus.”
“Each of our victories,” I said, “seems to occur closer to Corcyrus.”
“Surely you saw the silver brought in from Argentum?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “It was prominently displayed in the victory parade several weeks ago, that over which we presided.”
“Over which you presided, my Tatrix,” said he, modestly.
“Yes,” I said.
I recalled this parade well. Ligurious had been in the palanquin with me. He had been, in his force and presence, both visible and prominent. I, as earlier, apparently in accord with the public customs of Corcyrus, had been unveiled. My features, it seemed, would be well known to thousands.
“It seems little more silver has been forthcoming,” I said.
Ligurious was silent.
“Did your troops enter Argentum?” I asked.
“Our generals did not feel it was necessary,” said Ligurious.
“It seems that our first victory, after the seizure of the mines, occurred on the Fields of Hesius,” I said.
“Yes,” said Ligurious.
“Our second occurred on the shores of Lake Ias,” I said, “and our third east of the Issus.” This was a northwestward flowing river, tributary to the Vosk, far to the north.
“Yes, my Tatrix,” said Ligurious.
“Now we have been victorious once more,” I said, “this time on the Plains of Eteocles.”
“Yes, my Tatrix,” said Ligurious.
“They lie within a hundred pasangs of Corcyrus,” I said.
“It is part of a plan, my Tatrix,” said Ligurious. “We are stretching their supply lines. Then, when we wish, soon
, now, we will strike like a tarn, cutting them. We will then subject a starving, demoralized enemy to devastating attacks. Have no fear, Lady. They will soon be helpless. We will soon have them beneath our swords.”
“Are there scarcities in the city?” I asked.
“There are none in the palace,” said Ligurious. “Did Lady Sheila enjoy her spiced vulo this evening?”
“In the city?” I said.
“In a time of conflict,” said Ligurious, “there are always some privations.”
“Are they minor?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “With your permission,” he said. He then bowed, and withdrew.
I watched him withdraw. I wondered what it would be like to have to do obeisance to such a man, and what it would be like to be in his arms.
I then turned again to the barred window. From where I stood, sometimes, I could see tarn wire, as the light struck it, in its swaying movements. It was strung about, over the courtyard, between the palace and the walls. Too, it had been strung elsewhere, I had heard, in the city.
The door opened and Susan entered, and knelt down and lowered her head. It is common for slaves to kneel when entering the presence of free persons. It is common, too, of course, more generally, for them to kneel whenever they find themselves in the presence of a free person, for example, if they are in a room and a free person enters.
“You may finish your work,” I informed the slave, from Cincinnati, Ohio.
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl. In a moment, then, she was again, on her hands and knees, with water and cloths, her head down, rinsing and cleaning the tiles, thoroughly and carefully removing the residue of sticky, half-dried wine from them.
“Susan,” I said.
“Mistress?” she asked, raising her head.
“Did Ligurious speak to you?” I asked.
“Yes, Mistress,” she said.
“You know that tonight you are to - to dance?
“Yes, Mistress,” she said. “Before selected guardsmen. The whip dance.”
“It was not my idea, Susan,” I said. “I did not ask Ligurious to have you punished. It was his idea. I want you to know that. I am sorry.”
“It had not even occurred to me that it might have been your idea, Mistress,” smiled Susan. “You did not even want me punished. Mistress has always shown me incredible lenience. Mistress has always shown me incredible kindness. It is almost as if—”