Norman, John - Gor 25 - Magicians of Gor.txt

by Magicians of Gor [lit]

  “The troops of the polemarkos would expect such a thing,” I said.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “So, too, would Lurius of Jad,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “In any event,” I said, “with or without such tokens, the surrender of Ar is

  complete. It has been clearly and indisputable effected. Resistance to Cos has

  been ordered to cease. The forces of Ar, such as remain of them, have laid down

  their arms. They will presumably be soon reduced in numbers, perhaps to handfuls

  of guardsmen subject to Cosian officers, if not completely disbanded and

  scattered. Weapons will presumable, in time, be outlawed in the city. Her gates

  have been burned. I would expect, eventually, that her walls, stone by stone,

  will be taken down. She will then be utterly vulnerable, dependent completely on

  the mercies of Cos or her puppets.”

  “It will be the end of a civilization,” said Marcus.

  “A civilization of sorts will remain,” I said, “and arts of a sort, a literature

  of a sort, and such things.”

  “Perhaps Gor will be the better for it,” said Marcus, bitterly.

  I was silent.

  “How will the men retain their manhood?” he asked.

  “Perhaps they will manage,” I said. I had great respect for the men of Ar.

  “And what will become of the women?” he asked.

  “I do not know,” I said. “If the men do not retain their manhood, it will be

  difficult, or impossible, for the women, at least those who are in relationships

  to such men, to be women.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Cos,” I said, “is master on Gor.” I recalled that Dietrich of Tarnburg had

  feared such an eventuality, the coming of sovereignty of a major power. Such

  might mean the end of the free companies.

  “Only in a sense,” said Marcus.

  I regarded him.

  “In many cities and lands, indeed, in most parts of the world,” he said, “things

  will be surely much as they were before.”

  I considered such things as the difficulties of communication, the difficulties

  of maintaining supply lines, the lengths of marches, (pg. 100) the paucity of

  roads, the isolation of cities, the diversities of cultures and such.

  “I think you are right,” I said.

  It would be merely that Cos would now be the dominant force on the continent.

  Also, geopolitically, it did not seem likely that Cos could indefinitely

  maintain her power. Her seat of power was overseas and her forces were largely

  composed of mercenaries who were difficult to control and expensive to maintain.

  The recent campaigns of Lurius of Jad must have severely drained the treasury of

  Cos, and perhaps of Tyros, too, her ally. To be sure, her outlays might now be

  recouped here and there, for example, from conquered Ar. Cos had succeeded in

  defeating Ar. It was not so clear, I now realized, that she had managed to

  guarantee and secure her own hegemony indefinitely. Indeed, with Ar vulnerable

  and helpless, nullified militarily, if the power of Cos should collapse, a new

  barbarism might ensue, at least within the traditional boundaries of Ar, a

  lawless barbarism broken here and there by the existence of minor tyrannies,

  places where armed men imposed their will.

  “I do not hear the bars any longer,” said Marcus. “Nor the crowds.”

  “Nor do I,” I said.

  It now seemed quiet at the park of the Central Cylinder, save for the sounds of

  the workmen, striking apart the boards of the platform. Few people, too, were

  about. Some papers blew across the park, some of them tiny banners of colored

  paper, banners of both Cos and Ar.

  Again I considered the platform. On it Talena had stood, barefoot.

  “Look,” I said to Marcus, indicating some of the boards removed from the

  platform and piled to one side.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The boards,” I said, “on their upper surfaces, they are smoothed.”

  “And from the reflection of light, sealed,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Doubtless prepared for the feet of the noble Talena,” he said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Unusual solicitation for a penitent or suppliant,” said Marcus.

  “Yes,” I granted him.

  “But we would not wish to risk her little feet, would we?” Marcus asked Phoebe.

  “No, Master,” said Phoebe.

  Although Marcus had spoken in irony, Phoebe’s response was quite serious, and

  appropriately so. She did not even begin (pg. 101) to put herself in the

  category of a free woman. An unbridgeable and, to the slave, terrifying chasm

  separates any free woman on Gor from a slave, such as Phoebe.

  “It is regrettable, is it not,” Marcus asked Phoebe, “that she was forced to

  appear degradingly unshod?”

  “Yes, Master,” said Phoebe, “for she is a free woman.”

  Indeed, I suppose that it had cost Talena much to be seen in public, barefoot.

  Phoebe, of course, was barefoot. That is common with slaves.

  I watched another board being thrown on the pile.

  For the most part the platform was held together by wooden pegs, pounded through

  prepared holes. In this way I supposed it might be easily reassembled. Perhaps

  there was some intention that it might be used again, perhaps, say, for the

  coronation of a ubara.

  Then the portion of the platform nearest us was down.

  I wondered how Talena might look on another sort of platform, say, on an auction

  platform, stripped and in chains, being bid upon by men. such a surface, would

  be likely to be quite smooth to her feet, too, presumably having been worn

  smooth by the bared feet of numerous women before her.

  “Let us seek lodging,” said Marcus.

  “Very well,” I said.

  8 The Wall

  “I have had the good fortune to be chosen for wall duty,” said a youth to his

  fellow.

  “I myself volunteered for it,” answered the other.

  “Such things are the least we can do,” said the first.

  “By means of them Ar will become great,” said the other.

  “Not all values are material,” said the first.

  “By means of such things we shall visibly demonstrate our love of peace,” said

  the second.

  “Without such things,” said the first, “our protests of love and brotherhood

  would be empty.”

  “Of course,” said the other.

  “I am weary,” said Marcus.

  “It is the wagons,” I said.

  In Gorean cities it is often the case that many streets, particularly side

  streets, little more than alleys, are too narrow for (pg. 102) wagons. Local

  deliveries in such areas are usually made by porters or carts. Similarly,

  because of considerations such as congestion and noise, and perhaps aesthetics,

  which Goreans take seriously, wagons are not permitted on certain streets, and

  on many streets only duri
ng certain hours, usually at night or in the early

  morning. Indeed, most deliveries, as of produce from the country, not borne on

  the backs of animals of peasants, are made at night or in the early morning.

  This is also often the case with goods leaving the city, such as shipments of

  pottery and linens.

  We were walking in the Metellan district, and then turned east toward the Avenue

  of Turia. Phoebe was heeling Marcus.

  This morning, some Ahn before dawn, a convoy of wagons had rattled past our

  lodgings in the Metallan district, in the insula of Torbon on Demetrios Street.

  Our room, like many in an insula, had no window there, overlooking the street.

  Below, guided here and there by lads, with lanterns, were the wagons. There had

  been a great many of them. Demetrios Street, like most Gorean streets, like no

  sidewalks or curbs but sloped gently from both sides to a central gutter. The

  lads with the lanterns, their light casting dim yellow pools here and there on

  the walls and paving stones, performed an important function. Without some such

  illumination it is only too easy to miss a turn or gouge a wall with an axle.

  Marcus had joined me after a time. The wagons were covered with canvas, roped

  down. It was not the first such convoy which we had seen in the past weeks.

  “Well,” Marcus had asked, “what is being borne?”

  “Who knows?” I had asked.

  He laughed.

  To be sure, we knew, generically, what was being borne. It was not difficult to

  tell. Normal goods, exports of bar iron, and such, do not move in the city in

  such numbers. It is true, of course, that sometimes wagons would congregate at

  meeting places near gates, the wagons, say, of various manufacturers and

  merchants, and then travel on the roads in convoys, as a protection against

  brigandage, but in such a case the wagons, having different points of origin,

  would not form their convoy until in the vicinity of the gates, and, indeed,

  sometimes outside them, in order to avoid blocking streets. But the formation of

  such convoys, too, are usually advertised on the public boards, this information

  being of interest to various folks, say, merchants who might wish to ship goods,

  teamsters, guards, and such, who might wish employment, and folks wishing to

  book (pg. 103) passage. Sometimes, incidentally, rich merchants can manage a

  convoy by themselves, but even so they will usually accommodate the wagons of

  others in their convoys. There is commonly safety in numbers and the greater the

  numbers usually the greater the safety. A fee is usually charged for entering

  wagons in a convoy, this primarily being applied to defray the costs of guards.

  Too, in some cases, it may be applied to tolls, drinking water, provender for

  animals, and such. Some entrepreneurs make their living by the organization,

  management and supply of convoys. But these convoys, those of the sort now

  passing, were not such convoys. For example, they were not advertised. Indeed,

  many in Ar might not even be aware of them. Another clue as to the sort of

  convoys they were was that the wagons were not uniform but constituted rather a

  diverse lot. Some were even street wagons, and not road wagons, the latter

  generally of heavier construction, built for use outside the city where roads

  may be little more than irregular paths, uneven, steep, rugged and treacherous.

  Some Goreans cities, for example, perhaps as a military measure, in effect

  isolate themselves by the refusal to allocate funds for good roads. Indeed, they

  often go further by neglecting the upkeep of even those tracks that exist. It

  can be next to impossible to reach such cities in the spring, because of the

  rains. Besnit is an example. Beyond this, although many of the wagons were

  unmarked, many others, in the advertising on their sides, bore clear evidence of

  their origins, the establishments of chandlers, carders, fullers, coopers,

  weavers, millers, bakers, and so on, wagons presumably commandeered for their

  present tasks. As a point this convoy, and those which had preceded it on other

  days, seemed overstaffed, particularly for the city. Instead of having one

  driver, or a driver and a fellow, a relief driver or one to help with the

  unloading, and perhaps a lad to help through the city in the darkness, each

  wagon had at least four or five full-grown men with it, armed, usually two or

  three on the wagon box, and another two or three on the cargo itself, on the

  canvas, or, in some cases, holding to the wagon, riding on sideboards or the

  step below the wagon gate. Others, too, here and there, were afoot, at the

  sides.

  “Ar bleeds,” said Marcus.

  “Yes,” I had said.

  “Where are we going?” asked Marcus, following me.

  “I want to see what is going on at the walls,” I said.

  “The same thing,” said he, “as was going on last time.”

  “I wish to see what progress is being made,” I said.

  “You merely wish to observe the flute girls,” he said.

  (pg. 104) “That, too,” I admitted.

  In a few Ehn we were on the Avenue of Turia, one of the major avenues in Ar. It

  is lined with Tur trees.

  “What a beautiful street!” exclaimed Phoebe. The vista, when one comes

  unexpectedly on it, particularly after the minor side streets, is impressive.

  Marcus turned about, sharply, and regarded her. She stopped.

  “Are you in a collar?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master!” she said.

  “Are you a slave?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master!” she said.

  “Do you think,” he asked, “that just because I did not slay you on the day of

  the victory of Cos, that I am weak?”

  “No, Master!” she said.

  “Or that you may do as you please?”

  “No, Master!”

  “I decided then to think of you as merely what you are, a slave girl.”

  “Of course, Master,” she said.

  “Do you think that any of the fellows of Cos about would free you because you

  were once of Cos?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” she said, “for I am now no longer of Cos. I am now no more than an

  animal, no more than a slave.”

  “Perhaps then,” he said, “you will consider such matters before you next speak

  without permission.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  We then continued on our way.

  Marcus, enamored even as he was with every glance and movement, every word and

  wisp of hair, of his slave, was determined, I was pleased to note, to keep her

  under perfect discipline. To be sure, he had not beaten her. On the other hand,

  she had had her warning, and might, the next time, be taught the penalties for

  such an infringement, in a sense, a daring to exceed her station. Sometimes a

  girl will court the whip, and even provoke her master. After her whipping,

  reassured of the strength of her master, and that she will be kept in her place,

  where she belongs, and wishes to be, she curls gratefully, lovingly, at his

  feet, eager to serve in all way, his to command. To
be sure, I think that

  Phoebe’s outburst was genuinely inadvertent. I was now sure what I would have

  done in Marcus’ place. Perhaps the same thing. Perhaps, on the other hand, I

  would have cuffed her. I do not know. There are, of course, inadvertences and

  inadvertences. Usually a girl can tell when she has an implicit permission to

  speak, that is, for example, (pg. 105) when the master would not be likely to

  object to it, or would even welcome it, and when it would be wise to ask for

  such permission explicitly. When she is in doubt it would be wise to ask. I

  myself, incidentally, am occasionally inclined to encourage a certain

  inventiveness and spontaneity on the part of slaves. On the other hand the girl

  must always be clearly aware that she is subject, at any time. she is, after

  all, a slave.

  “Did you notice the haircut of that young fellow we just passed?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “It is done in the style of Myron, the polemarkos.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Here are public boards,” said Marcus.

  Such are found at various points in Ar, such as the vicinity of squares and

  plazas, near markets, and on major streets and avenues.

  “Is there anything new?” I inquired. I would prefer for Marcus to make out the

  lettering. He read Gorean fluently.

  “Not really,” said Marcus. “The usual things, quotations from various officials,

  testimonials of fidelity to both Cos and Ar, declarations of chagrin and shame

  by various men of not concerning the crimes of Ar under Gnieus Lelius.”

  “I see,” I said. It was now some two months since the entry of Myron into the

  city and the subsequent triumph of Lurius of Jad, celebrated a day later in his

  name by Myron, the polemarkos, in which triumph he, Myron, acting as proxy for

  Lurius of Jad, was joined by Seremides and Talena, and several weeks after the

  ascension of Talena to the throne of Ar, as Ubara. Her coronation may have been

  somewhat less spectacular then Myron’s entry into the city and Lurius’

  subsequent triumph, which may have grated upon her somewhat, but I think it had

  been impressive enough. The crown of Tur leaves was placed upon her head by

  Myron, but on behalf of the people and councils of Ar. Seremides and most

  members of the High Council were in attendance. Certain other members of the