by John Norman
“May I speak?” begged Aynur, in tears, in rage.
“No,” he said.
Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks.
He then looked down at me, and I looked down.
I did not fully understand that look. It was not simply a look at a girl he had used, a bemused glance at an instrument, now unimportant, which had served his purpose.
I was not special, I told myself. I was not different from thousands of others.
I made as though to draw my wet silk hastily over my body.
“You have not received permission to silk yourself,” he said.
Quickly I put down the silk. I was still kneeling.
“Tunic,” he said, handing it to me.
I stood obediently, and shook out the tunic, and kissed it, as one is trained to do. I then helped him into it.
“Belt and wallet,” he said.
These, too, I kissed, and, putting my arms about him, trying to touch him as little as possible, for the others were watching, affixed the belt, with wallet, in place.
But the nearness to him made me tremble, he a man, and one of this world.
He pointed to the grass, to one side, and I knelt there, one such as I at the feet of one such as he.
He kicked his sandals to one side, a few feet away. Then he regarded Aynur. She looked at him, almost in protest, disbelievingly. He then pointed to the sandals, and snapped his fingers.
Aynur dropped to all fours and crawled to the first sandal, picked it up in her teeth, and brought it to him, and dropped it at his feet. She then fetched the second sandal, in the same manner. She then looked up at him, but he merely indicated, with a gesture, that she should return to her place, which she did, kneeling between Tima and Tana.
Aynur, she who was first amongst us, Aynur, in her rich silk, and ornaments, Aynur, in her golden talmit, and the affixed ruby, had fetched sandals, and before such as Tima and Tana, not to mention before one such as my lowly self! One this world hierarchy exists, and status, and rank, and distance. Such things, always real, are not here concealed. Here they are in the open. The people of this world do not deign to conceal that each is not the same as every other, and not merely is this true of those such as I. Such articulations, of course, so healthy with respect to maintaining social stability, constitute an institutional counterpart to the richnesses of difference in an articulated ordered, holistic nature. On this world, for better or for worse, order seems most often preferred to chaos, and truth to fiction.
Aynur had been made to fetch sandals, and before Tima and Tana, and such as I!
It is not that important thing here was the fetching of the sandals themselves. Not at all.
Indeed, I myself would have been pleased to fetch such sandals, and lovingly. It is a way of pleasing, and showing what we are. It is a way of beautifully serving. To be sure, such an act can be sued for disciplinary purposes, forcing us to understand clearly what we are, that we should bring the sandals so.
But it is one thing of course for one such as I to be permitted to bring sandals to one such as he in, say, the privacy of our precious intimacy, or before peers, where I might find myself honored before others, I and not they accorded this permission, or even in a public place, such as the baths, or the vestibule of the gymnasium, where no one perhaps but I, treasured it, an relishing it, thinks anything of it, but it is quite another for one such as Aynur to be forced to do so in a situation such as this, before such as we. Indeed, I suspected that Aynur, had she been alone with him, had she not been before us, had she not had her talmit, had her hair been loose, had she been naked, save perhaps for her collar and some ornaments, might have begged prettily, and quite abjectly, upon her knees, for the permission to render him such a service. But this, of course was not such an occasion.
Tears ran down Aynur’s cheeks, she kneeling between Tima and Tana.
The worst, of course, was not that she, who was first amongst us, had been forced to behave as though she might be the least amongst us. No, rather, the worst was that she, having fetched the sandals, had then been merely returned to her place. It had been hers merely to fetch the sandals. She would not, it seemed be permitted to place them upon his feet. He would not, it seemed, have her so much as touch him.
He then regarded me, imperiously. But I was not special! I was not important!
He pointed to the sandals, at his feet. He snapped his fingers.
I hurried to kneel before him. I picked up on sandal, looked up at him lowered my head, kissed the sandal, looked up at him again, and then bent to put the sandal on his foot, which I did, carefully trying the thongs. I then did the same with the other sandal. We are taught to do this in this fashion. One commonly, unless otherwise instructed, places the right sandal first, then she left. I did it in that fashion, of course. Two of the first things we are taught are the bathing and dressing of a man. I completed my ministrations by kissing his feet, of course, each in turn, and then backing a bit away, and keeling, in common position. We may thusly await further instructions, if any may be forthcoming.
Aynur sobbed in fury.
This frightened me. It was not my fault that I had been ordered to tie his sandals! I had not, in fear of her, at least as far as I was aware, put myself in the way of being subjected to such commands. I had not, as far as I knew, at least clearly, attempted to call myself again to his attention. I had not attempted, or had I, to solicit such commands? There are, of course, ways in which women such as I, subtly, wordlessly, with tiny movement of the body, a seemingly inadvertent placement of ourselves, a lifting of the bosom, a catching of the breath, the shyest of glances, the tiniest movement of a lip, can petition, and even beg. Had I don’t such a thing, naturally, without even being fully aware of it? I might have done so, I knew. It would not have been unusual in the sort that I was. We are such, even helplessly, you see.
Her eyes seemed to bore into me. Tart, she seemed to say, slut! But I could not help it if he had chosen me to tie his sandals! Tart, tart, slut, slut, her eyes seemed to say. Perhaps I had done something. I feared I had. It would have been only too natural! But then I was sure that even though I might have in some subtle way solicited permission to perform this service for him, which on a very deep level I desired to do, it would, in any event have been required of me.
Aynur, I recalled, had dallied, if only for the briefest moment, in assuming before him the position of obeisance. Such things are not likely to be forgotten, or overlooked. Instant obedience is expected of us. And these men, as I have suggested, do not tend to be patient.
Grievous at his hands was the punishment of the lovely, imperious Aynur, who was first amongst us in the garden. She had not been permitted speech. She must, before us, like a low girl, publicly fetch sandals. And then, the sandals fetched, she had been returned to her place, denied the opportunity to place them upon his feet. How mocked, how scorned, how reduced, was lofty Aynur, in her golden fillet, with the ruby!
Aynur wept in frustration and rage. Her small fists were clenched on her thighs. I had never seen her like this, almost beside herself. She was, after all, it seemed, in spite of her authority, in spite of her power, like us, only a woman.
She must remain positioned.
His will had been made clear.
She would obey.
Aynur looked at me in fury. I trembled. In part of me I was not at all pleased to have been made use of in this way, to have been used, in effect, as an instrument for her punishment. That would certainly, in once sense, not give me an enviable position in the garden. But, of course, in another sense, I was terribly pleased that it had been I, and not she, or not Tima, or Tana, whom he had selected out for the kissing and tying of his sandals. Only I, who only a few days ago had first been permitted silk in the garden! This pleased my vanity no small bit! Too, in a sense, it would surely elevate my status among the flowers, if they came to know of it. Might they not envy me this distinction, though, too, recognizing only too clearly the perils which
it might entail?
Then I became conscious that I was once again beneath the gaze of the stranger.
I hoped, in fear, that I had pleased him. Certainly he had not been stinting in taking his will of me.
I flushed, too, recalling how I had been given no choice but to yield as what I was, and how with what authority he had made me his, and the spasmodic raptures which had accompanied my seizure and conquest.
He continued to regard me.
I trembled.
He must not tell that I was near the wall!
He smiled. I suspected then that he must have guessed my fears. How trivial such things might appear to him, the alarms of a small, curvaceous animal, but how momentous they were to me! He could leave, but I must remain in the garden!
He continued to regard me.
Many were the questions he had asked me.
I had been frightened by these questions, as to what might be their purport, or significance.
Why did he ask me if I were “Janice,” or had ever known a slave named “Janice,” or if had ever been in Treve?
I had, of course, responded negatively, as I had been instructed to do. But such questions, it habe been thought, by myself, and others, I supposed, would never be asked of me. But now they had been asked of me.
What did this mean?
But I was not special. I was not important. I was only another girl, only another flower, nothing more, in her collar, in a garden.
Then I could no longer meet that gaze. I put down my head, frightened.
He then took his leave of the garden.
This left me alone with Aynur, and Tima and Tana.
In a moment of two, perhaps when she was sure he was gone, Aynur leaped, enraged, to her feet. Tima and Tana, too, rose to their feet. Aynur looked after his route of departure, apparently a quite open one, though the inner gate, leading to the house, then doubtless though our quarters, then though the other gates, sealing off our quarters, and thence to the main portions of the house, and, eventually, out the main portal. He would then be outside the house, in the street. I had been brought here hooded, so I had never seen the city, which, I gathered, was a large one, nor even the street outside, which seemed to be a busy one, particularly in the early morning. Many of the flowers, incidentally, were quite as ignorant, and sheltered, as I. We wondered what the world might be like on the other side of the wall. To be sure, we were sometimes frightened. Sometimes we heard cries of pain, of such as we, and the sound of a lash. Sometimes we heard lamentations, of such as we, and the sounds of chains, and the cracking of whips. Sometimes we heard even, to angry cries, and the cracking of whips, cries of weariness, and misery, and effort, of such as we, cries mingling with the sounds of the tightening and slackening, and tightening, of harness, the groaning of heavily laden wagons, the creaking of large wooden wheels turning slowly on pavement. At such times you may well understand how it was that we within the wall, in the garden, in our delicate, pampered beauty, our light silks, our golden collars, might exchange frightened glances. Our lives would have been quite different, it seemed clear, if we were on the other side of the wall. Sometimes even I was grateful for the guards, and for the height and sturdiness of that massive wall within which we were sheltered. Only too obviously might there be perils, and fearful severities, outside the wall. I was not insensitive to such things. Indeed, I was much afraid of them. But still, on the whole, even so, I wanted to be out of the garden. Better to squirm in a tavern, better to trudge behind an army as one of its collared camp followers, better to be harnessed to a peasant’s plow, wary of his lash, than to languish in the garden! If I were a flower, let me blossom in the fields, or among paving stones, not in the garden. I wanted to be outside, where I could see, and, yes, be seen, where I could actively and visibly be what I was, serving and loving. Better a steel collar in the street than one of gold in the garden!
“I shall call the guards!” wept Aynur. But she did not do so.
It might be mentioned that Aynur, and Tima and Tana, despite their authority, and their importance, in the garden, were less than the least of the guards. They, too, in the final analysis, you see, were only “flowers.” More importantly, they were females, and the guards were males.
I wondered why Aynur did not call the guards.
She must, I conjectured, know the man.
Suddenly Aynur pointed to the dreaded switch at her feet and Tana knelt down, quickly, and retrieved the switch, and, then, head down, humbly, with both hands, lifted it up to Aynur, who seized it away from her. Tana then rose to her feet. All three then faced me.
My silk was on the grass, by my right knee.
“Position,” said Aynur. “Head up!”
I now knelt before them, as Aynur had commanded, positioned, my head up.
I was distressed, but dared not reveal my feelings.
Surely it was not before such as they that I should be so kneeling. It was not that such postures were not suitable for me. They were eminently suitable for me. Indeed, they were quite correct for me. Indeed, I belonged in them. But not before such as they.
“It seems that Gain has been naughty,” said Aynur.
“No!” I said.
“What?” asked Aynur.
“I have not been naughty!” I said.
“Who has not been naughty?” asked Aynur.
“Gail has not been naughty!” I said.
“you may now explain what occurred,” said Aynur.
“I was in the garden,” I began.
“During the rest period?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing in the garden during the rest period?” asked Aynur. “Why were you not on your mat?”
“I was not tired!” I said. “I wanted to walk in the garden!”
“But it was the rest period,” she said.
I was silent.
It was not forbidden to be in the garden during the rest period. She would know that. But it would not do to remind her of it.
“There are ways to keep you in the vicinity of your mat, you know,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
There was, near my mat, as there were also near other mats, a heavy ring, set in the floor. It would be easy to chain me to that, presumably by an ankle ring.
“Did you expect to meet someone in the garden?” she asked.
“No!” I said.
Even objectively, of course, such meetings would be difficult and dangerous to arrange. We had no direct contact with the outside, and, for most practical purposes, those outside had no direct contact with us. And there was the wall, of course, and the knives at the top. Who, unsolicited, could simply come through the house, and enter the garden? But it seems that one had. He had said he was “known in the house.” It seemed likely. It is not the case that the gardens are without politics, nor that intrigue is not rampant within them, but these things are usually amongst the flowers themselves. As flowers, as far as outside contacts might occur, we were almost entirely at the mercy of others, guards and such. Sometimes there were attempts from outside houses to reach suspected flowers within. For example, let us suppose that a woman, not like one of us, is suspected of being held in a given garden. One might then attempt to ascertain this. Too, might she not attempt bribe guards, or such, promising rich rewards fro her release? But let her not be apprehended in such an intrigue, lest her lofty status vanish by morning, and she find herself in the garden then nor more than another such as we. Then the matter would take on another complexion. It would become, in all probability, then, not a difference between captivity and freedom, but a mere changing of collars. In all intrigues within the garden, involving the outside, a guard, or staff member, is almost always involved. They are necessary as intermediaries. But such things are terribly dangerous. Too, of course, there can be internal liaisons, and such. A flower, for example, much taken with a handsome guard, upon whom she has spied, might, risking all, place herself in his way, letting her needs and feelings be known
. Too, of course, such liaisons might be initiated by a guard or staff member, for such are not as ignorant of the contents of a garden as is sometimes supposed. But, then again, there is terrible risk in such matters.
“Go on,” said Aynur.
“I was not tired,” I said. “I wanted to walk. I went into the garden.”
“You did not know anyone was there?”
“No!” I said. “I thought the garden was empty.”
“But it was not, it seems,” said Aynur.
“No!” I said.
“There was a man there?”
“Yes!” I said.
“Were you surprised?” asked Aynur.
‘Yes!” I said. “I was shocked! I was terrified! I was horrified! A man there! In the garden!”
“What did you do?”
“I did not know what to do,” I said.
“It seems that you managed to do something,” said Aynur. Tana laughed.
“I had no choice!” I protested.
“You could not help yourself,” suggested Aynur.
“I was seized!” I said. “I was helpless!”
“Perhaps you were beaten,” said Aynur, “but you do not appear to have been beaten. Perhaps you were bound, hand and foot, but there do not appear to be rope marks on your wrists or ankles, or at your belly.”
“I was overpowered!” I protested. I supposed that this was, in a sense, true. I had been overpowered by his authority, by my consternation, by my not knowing who he was, or his license to be here, by the hold he had over me, having seen me by the wall, by my own desperate, crying needs.
“Doubtless you resisted?” said Aynur.
“Yes!” I cried. “But I was too weak. He was so much stronger than I!”
“Why did you not summon guards?” asked Aynur.
