by John Norman
I wondered what it was that they wanted, so keenly, so determinedly, in Corcyrus.
I was frightened. Perhaps the troops of Cos would come to our rescue. I was pleased that I was safe in the palace.
Chapter 12 - I SIT UPON THE THRONE; I WAIT IN THE HALL
“Dress her in her most regal robes,” commanded Ligurious.
“Yes, Master,” said Susan, fumbling with the garments.
I stood before the mirror in my quarters. I watched the glorious robes of state being placed about my shoulders.
Earlier I had stood frightened behind the door, now kept locked, my ear to the wood.
“They are within the city!” I had heard cry.
“Impossible!” had cried a guard.
“How was it done?” inquired another, insistently, bewilderedly.
“It seems a Sa-Tarna wagon was fleeing before the approaching enemy, seeking to reach the city before being overtaken,” said a man.
“There was time, happily, it seemed, though the matter would be close, for the wagon to win its race, and sorely, as you know, did we need the grain. The gate was opened to admit the wagon. Surely there would then be time, and time enough, given the distances involved, to close the gate. One wagon seemed to be drawn by two strings of male slaves, twenty in each string, as is common. These men, however, were not slaves. The wagon within the portal, they threw off their harnesses and from beneath the grain drew forth swords. They prevented the closing of the gate. In moments the vanguard of the enemy had arrived.”
I had hurried then to the barred window. I could see smoke rising from the city.
Shortly thereafter Ligurious and Susan had arrived at my quarters.
Ligurious wore soldierly garb, but of a sort with which I was not familiar. I did not know the insignia, the markings.
“Put her in the veil of state,” said Ligurious. Susan brought forth a long, lovely veil, intricately embroidered. She adjusted my robes about me, concealing, in the fashion of the robes of concealment, now not thrown back, but drawn up, my hair and much of my head. She then pinned the veil in place. It was very beautiful. It was opaque.
Little could now be seen of me but my eyes and a bit of the bridge of my nose. I had not even known such a veil existed. Hitherto I had generally worn veils only when intending to travel incognito in the city, and I had never worn them on official occasions of state.
“Come along,” said Ligurious. He took my arm and, half dragging me, conducted me from my quarters.
In moments we were hurrying through the halls. Falling in behind Ligurious were some five or six men, not my guards, who were dressed much as he was.
The halls seemed, for the most part, oddly deserted. Occasionally a man ran past. At one point, crouching down, then kneeling, as we passed, by hangings at the side of the corridor, was a slave girl. She was terrified. She wore some twists of silk about her. She wore a collar of a sort, rather high and ornate, which is often jeweled. No jewels, however, caught the light as we passed. They had been, I gathered, pried from their settings.
Susan was not with us. I did not know where she was. Apparently she had been left behind.
I was thrust into an anteroom, one off the great hall. In this room there were some four or five men and a woman. The woman wore a robe, hooding her, and was turned away from me. She was about my height. Interestingly, she was barefoot and the robe she wore came only a bit below the knees. I thought she had nice calves and ankles. Mine, I thought, might be better, A man, dressed rather in the fashion of Ligurious and the others, was lifting a sheet about her. She clutched this sheet about her, drawing it even about her head, and holding it together, before her face, effectively veiling herself with it. She turned to face me. Then she turned away. Her eye color, I noted, was not dissimilar to mine.
Ligurious turned me, so that I faced the door to the great hall, where, on the lofty dais, reposed the throne of Corcyrus.
“Is all ready?” asked Ligurious.
“Yes,” responded a man.
“The tarns?” asked Ligurious.
“Yes,” said the man. “Everything is ready.”
I turned. I saw that the sheet, now, had been drawn completely over the woman, as though thrown over her. As it hung about her, its hem fell midway between her ankles and knees. I was startled. It was almost as though, under the sheet, she might be naked. I gasped. Something was being fastened about her throat, over the sheet, under her chin. It was round. There was a long strap connected with it. It was a slave collar and leash!
Ligurious took me by the arm and turned me about, again, facing me toward the door to the great hall.
I did not know who the woman was, but I suspected that she might be she with whom Ligurious had confessed himself to be so smitten, she to whom I apparently bore some resemblance. It seemed odd to me, almost incomprehensible, that Ligurious, a man such as he, who must have had some fifty women at his feet, women such as Susan, women kneeling in terror and awe about him, for he was their total master, should be so much like a callow youth, should be so weak, with this woman. Did he not know, I asked myself, scornfully, that she, too, ultimately, was only a woman, that she, too, ultimately, needed only the whip and a master?
I was then conducted into the great hall by Ligurious. It was empty. The two great entrance doors, at the far end, were locked from the inside, with the great beams in their brackets. It took ten guardsmen to move those beams. I could not begin to budge them.
“Is there any sign of the men of Cos?” I heard a man ask behind us, from the anteroom.
“They are not fools,” said another man. “They will not meet Ar on the land.”
“Do the people resist the enemy?” I heard another man ask.
“No,” said another man. “They abet them.”
I ascended the steps of the dais, conducted by Ligurious.
At his indication I took my place on the throne.
“The doors of the anteroom will be locked behind us,” said Ligurious. “You will not be able to open them.”
“What is going on?” I asked.
“You will soon serve your purpose,” said Ligurious.
“What purpose?” I said.
“That purpose which we feared might one day have to be served, that purpose, or major purpose, why you were brought to Gor.”
“I do not understand,” I said. I did recall that last night I had been assured that everything had been planned for, that all contingencies, according to Ligurious, had been anticipated.
I wondered if I still had a role to play in these contingencies.
“You still need me, then?” I said. “I still figure in your plans?”
“Of course,” he said.
I was relieved to hear this. I was afraid as to what might prove to be my fate if a man such as Ligurious no longer had any particular or special use for me. I was pretty. I could conjecture what fates might lie in store for me.
“Listen,” said he. “Do you hear it?”
“Yes,” I said. It was a dull, striking sound, coming as though from a great distance. It had a rhythm to it.
“It is a ram,” said he, “doubtless slung from a cradle, drawn by ropes, doubtless with a will by citizens of Corcyrus.”
“It sounds far away,” I said.
“It is at the outer gate,” he said.
“The citizens of Corcyrus love me,” I said.
“Do not doubt it,” he said. “I must now take my leave. I fear there is little time.”
“But what of me?” I said. “I am afraid. Will you come back for me?”
“Have no fear, Lady Sheila,” he said. “You will be come for.”
“Soon?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. He then backed down the stairs. He bowed deeply.
“Farewell, Lady Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus,” he said.
He then withdrew.
I heard a splintering in the distance, and then, in a moment, a new striking, doubtless on the interior gate.
I heard the closing of the anteroom door behind Ligurious, and then the dropping in place of beams, the sliding of bolts. It had been locked from within, from the other side.
I sat on the throne, clutching its arms, alone in the great hall.
Chapter 13 - THE GOLDEN CAGE; MILES OF ARGENTUM SPEAKS WITH ME
I clutched the arms of the throne in terror.
Before this I had heard the screams of the crowd outside the doors, their shouting and pounding, then the striking of a heavy beam against the door.
Men and women, many in rags, brandishing knives and implements, mixed with soldiers, poured into the great hall. The doors were open, and one hung awry on its hinges. The mob, with the soldiers, swirling about the heavy beam, now dropped, which had been used to breach the doors, flooded toward the dais. At the foot of the dais, shaking fists, shouting angrily, some restrained by soldiers, the crowd stopped.
“Cut her to pieces!” I heard. “Tear her to pieces!”
“She is Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!” cried men in the crowd. “It is Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!”
“It is she!”
“It is Sheila!”
“It is Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus!”
I moaned. I was terrified that they should know that.
Miles of Argentum sheathed his sword. He handed his helmet to one of the men with him.
He approached the throne.
“Please, don’t,” I said.
Then he jerked away the veil of state from my features. I, though a free woman, had been face-stripped before free men. My face was as bare to them as though I might be a slave. Face-stripping a free woman, against her will, can be a serious crime on Gor. On the other hand, Corcyrus had now fallen. Her women, thusly, now at the feet of her conquerors, would be little better than slaves. Any fate could now be inflicted on them that the conquerors might wish, including making them actual slaves. The hand of Miles of Argentum then brushed back my robes, that my whole head and features, to the throat, might be revealed to the crowd.
“This is the way in which I am more accustomed to seeing you,” he said. “Greetings, Lady Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus.”
“I am Tiffany Collins,” I said, weakly. “I am from Earth.”
“Your features,” said Miles of Argentum, “are surely well known to hundreds, if not thousands.”
“Cut her to pieces!” cried men in the crowd. “Tear her to pieces!” cried women in the crowd.
“I am from Earth!” I cried. “I am Tiffany Collins!”
“Bring forth the palace slave called Susan,” said Miles of Argentum.
Susan, from somewhere in the back, was thrust forward. I gasped.
She was absolutely naked, save that she still wore the collar of Ligurious. Her hands were bound behind her back.
In her nose there was a small, circular, wire apparatus which had apparently been held open, thrust through her septum, and then permitted to spring shut. Attached to this apparatus, tied through it, dangling, was a looped thong, about two feet in length. It was clearly a device by means of which a slave, or perhaps any female, might be led.
“You are Susan, are you not,” inquired Miles of Argentum, “who was as personal serving slave to Sheila, the Tatrix of Corcyrus?”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
He indicated that she might kneel before the throne.
“Is this she who was to you as Mistress?” inquired Miles of Argentum, addressing himself to the terrified slave from Cincinnati at his feet.
“Tell them I am Tiffany Collins, from Earth!” I told Susan.
“She is truly from Earth, I think, Master,” wept Susan, “and that is what, I recall, she told me her name was.”
I almost cried out with relief.
“And putting aside such former names and worlds,” said Miles, “as whom do you know her here?”
Susan began to tremble.
“You know the penalties for a slave who lies,” said Miles. “Think carefully and well, my small, nose-ringed beauty.”
“She is she who was to me as Mistress,” said Susan, sobbing, “she whom I served, Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus.”
There was a cry of elation from the crowd.
“Forgive me, Mistress!” cried Susan. She then, at a sign from Miles, led by the thong, in the grip of a soldier, hurrying, almost running, that she did not place the least stress on the device in her nose, was being conducted rapidly from the room. I supposed she would be placed with other women, perhaps wearing similar devices. They can be tied about slave ring fastened to other such thongs, and so on.
Just before the soldier had grasped the thong I had seen her wildly look at Miles of Argentum. Doubtless she remembered him well from the audience, so long ago. Too, I thought it quite likely that be remembered her. In that audience he had looked upon her as though she might not be likely to quickly slip his mind. Too, he had had her summoned to the dais by her palace name. She had tried to read in his countenance, in that brief, wild instant, before she was removed from the dais, her fate, but she had been unable to do so. He was not, perhaps by intention, even looking at her. She did not know then if, when the collar of Ligurious was removed from her, she would be sent to his headquarters or not. There, of course, if she were found sufficiently pleasing, after perhaps a closer examination and trial, another collar might be put on her. She would, in any case, wear one collar or another, somewhere. She was a slave.
“Call the captain from Ar,” said Miles of Argentum.
A tall, lean figure entered the hall, and approached now down the long aisle. Then he stood on the dais, almost with Miles of Argentum.
“No,” I whispered, “No.”
“Drusus Rencius, Captain of Ar, on detached service to the forces of Argentum,” said Miles of Argentum. “I believe you two have met.”
I shook my head, disbelievingly. I had been told he was a renegade from Ar. Twice, I knew, suddenly realizing it now, he could have stolen me from Corcyrus, delivering me to Argentum, once when we were on the walls near the tarn perches and once, later, when, my whereabouts unknown to Ligurious and others, I had been in the house of Kliomenes, braceleted, half naked and helpless. But he had not abducted me, nor attempted to do so. It seemed rather he had, for whatever reason or reasons, preferred, as he had once remarked on the walls of Corcyrus, to let the game take its course.
“Do you know this woman, Captain?” asked Miles, general of Argentum.
Drusus Rencius handed his helmet to a soldier and climbed then to the height of the throne.
He put out his hands and lifted me to my feet before the throne. He then held me by the upper arms and looked down, deeply, into my eyes.
I shuddered. This was not a matter in which he wished to risk any mistake.
“Yes,” he said.
“How do you know her?” asked Miles of Argentum.
“I was, for several weeks,” he said, “her personal bodyguard.”
“You know her then quite well?” asked Miles.
“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius.
“Can you identify her?” asked Miles.
“Yes,” said Drusus Rencius.
“Who is she?” asked Miles of Argentum.
“She is Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus,” said Drusus Rencius.
There was a sudden cry of pleasure and victory from the crowd. Drusus Rencius released me, and turned about, and, descending from the dais and making his way through the crowd, left.
I watched him leave.
“Strip her,” said Miles of Argentum, “and put her in golden chains, and put her in the golden cage.”
I felt the hands of soldiers at my clothing. It was torn from me, before the very throne. Then, when I was absolutely naked, a golden collar, to which a chain was attached, with wrist rings and ankle rings, was brought. It was a chaining system of that sort called a sirik.
My chin was thrust up, and I felt the golden collar locked on my throat. Almost at the same time my wrists, held closely together before me, were
locked helplessly in the wrist rings. In another instant my ankles, held, were helpless in the ankle rings. A chain then ran from my collar to the chain on my wrist rings and from thence, the same chain, to the chain on my ankle rings.
My ankle-ring chain was about twelve inches in length, and my wrist-ring chain was about six inches in length. The central chain, where it dangled down from the wrist rings, lay on the floor before the throne, before it looped up to where it was closed about a central link of the ankle-ring chain. This permits the prisoner, usually a slave, to lift her arms. She is thus in a position to feed herself or better exhibit her beauty to masters in a wider variety of postures and attitudes than would otherwise be the case. The point of the sirik is not merely to confine a woman, but to confine her beautifully.
Two guards then held me, one by each arm, before the throne. I was naked. I was chained. I wore the sirik.
They lifted me up, then, at a sign from Miles of Argentum. I was absolutely helpless. My feet must have been some six or seven inches from the floor before the throne. Even by pointing my toes I could not couch the carpeting. I was held there, being exhibited to the crowd, chained in the sirik.
“Behold the Tatrix of Corcyrus,” called Miles of Argentum, indicating me with a sweeping gesture, “helpless, and in chains!”
There was a wild cheer from the crowd, almost a shriek, as though for blood.
“Will you come back for me?” I had asked Ligurious.
“Have no fear, Lady Sheila,” he had said. “You will be come for.”
“Soon?” I had asked.
“Yes,” he had said. Then he had bade me farewell, and left.
I looked down on the crowd, into the wild eyes, the upraised fists. I saw, too, the soldiers. I moved helplessly in the chains, held before the crowd. Ligurious and the woman, and the others, had doubtless, by now, on tarns, made good their escape. The uniforms the men had worn were not unlike that in which I had just seen Drusus Rencius, and not unlike those of certain others about the dais, soldiers. They were, I took it, habiliments of Ar. The woman in the slave collar and on the leash, covered by the sheet, her bare feet and ankles visible beneath it, would presumably be assumed to be merely a naked captive.
