Rebels of Gor

by John Norman

  “She is his daughter,” said Tajima.

  “He has many daughters,” I said.

  “He seems well disposed toward her,” said Tajima.

  “Lord Yamada is not indulgent where failure is concerned,” I said.

  “She must be warned,” said Tajima.

  “You are concerned?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, “of course not.”

  “It will not be easy,” I said.

  “Stop babbling in some barbarous tongue,” said Sumomo.

  “Forgive us, noble lady,” said Tajima, in Gorean.

  “What is going on?” inquired Lord Yamada, pleasantly, from his end of the table.

  “Nothing, noble lord,” said Tajima.

  “The small chestnuts are excellent,” said Lord Yamada. “Dip them in honey.”

  “Indeed,” I said.

  “I thought,” said Tajima, turning to Sumomo, on his right, “you were a contract woman.”

  “Do not insult me,” she said.

  “Forgive me, lady,” he said.

  “That was a guise, a role behind which I might abet the projects of my father.”

  “Are you angry,” he asked, “that I failed to recognize that you could not be such, but were instead a noble, and fine, lady?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Rather, it is a tribute to my talent, and my skill, that you failed to do so.”

  “You are beautiful enough to be a contract woman,” he said.

  “More beautiful,” she said, “for I am a free woman, and of noble birth.”

  “You are no more beautiful now than then,” he said. “Indeed, you might be even more beautiful, if you were a stripped, collared slave.”

  “Tarsk!” she said.

  “Forgive me, lady,” he said.

  “And take your eyes from those slaves!” she said.

  “No,” he said, “they are meant to be seen, to be enjoyed, to be commanded, to be owned, to be mastered, to be relished, to be ravished. It is what they are for.”

  “Do not think I did not see you hanging about the quarters of Nishida,” she said. “I could scarcely stir about without knowing that you watched me, and followed me about. Anywhere in the holding! Nishida, Hana, Hisui, others. Many knew this.”

  “Perhaps I see you differently now,” he said.

  “You followed me one night even to the outer parapet,” she said.

  “True,” said Tajima. “What were you doing there?”

  “Refreshing myself, in the open air,” she said. “What were you doing there?”

  “Refreshing myself,” he said, “in the open air.”

  “You were following me,” she laughed.

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “I wager,” she said, “you even dreamed of purchasing my contract from Nishida.”

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “Poor fool,” she said, “you would have aspired to the daughter of the Shogun of the Islands.”

  “I did not know you were his daughter,” said Tajima.

  “I played my part well,” she said.

  “Excellently,” he said.

  She then smiled, and seemed well satisfied.

  “Why then are you here?” he asked.

  “I do not know,” she said. “Perhaps I have been removed from the holding of Temmu for my safety. Perhaps, given my value in the north, I am to be permitted an even more important role.”

  “It is hard to see what that might be,” he said.

  “True,” she said.

  Sumomo glanced to the serving slaves, as, head down and deferentially, they attended to the wants of the diners.

  “Half-stripped slaves are disgusting,” she said.

  “Not all find them so,” said Tajima.

  “They are in collars, like animals,” she said.

  “They are animals,” said Tajima.

  “I see men observing them,” she said.

  “Of course,” said Tajima.

  “How terrible it must be,” she said, “serving men, knowing that you are their beast, and will be punished if not found pleasing.”

  “They are slaves,” said Tajima.

  “Who could have the least interest in such creatures?” she asked.

  “They sell well,” said Tajima.

  “Slave!” snapped Sumomo, to Cecily, who, startled, apprehensive, looked to the guests’ table, from where she now knelt, near the serving table.

  “Approach,” said Sumomo.

  Uneasily the slave, once Miss Virginia Cecily Jean Pym, approached Sumomo, and knelt before her, her head down.

  “First obeisance position,” I said.

  Instantly the slave assumed first obeisance position, kneeling, head to the floor, the palms of her hands on the floor, beside her lowered head. She was, after all, in the presence of a free woman.

  “Kneel up,” said Sumomo. “Lift your head. I would look upon your pretty face.”

  Cecily’s lip trembled. She was clearly frightened. She was a slave. She was before a free woman. For those unfamiliar with the Gorean culture, it is difficult to convey the gap between the slave and the free. It is not a gap in degree, but a chasm in kind.

  “Mistress?” whispered Cecily.

  “How are you here?” inquired Sumomo.

  “I was selected from amongst others, in the slave pens,” she said.

  “Why?” asked Sumomo.

  “By men,” said Cecily.

  “I see,” said Sumomo.

  “There were many excellent choices,” I said.

  “Have you stolen any food?” inquired Sumomo.

  “No, Mistress!” said Cecily.

  “Have you been fed?” asked Sumomo.

  “No, Mistress,” said Cecily.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Perhaps,” said Sumomo, “the men will throw you some food later, or feed you.”

  “We will hope for such kindness, Mistress,” said Cecily.

  “Doubtless such as you hope to please your masters,” said Sumomo.

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily, “for we are slaves.”

  “Are you a slut?” asked Sumomo.

  “I am less than a slut, Mistress,” said Cecily, “for I am a slave.”

  “Do you know that men sometimes refer to such as you as sex-tarsks?”

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily.

  “Are you a sex-tarsk?” asked Sumomo.

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily, “for I am a slave.”

  “You are a pretty little sex-tarsk,” said Sumomo.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” said Cecily.

  I did not think that Sumomo was any larger than Cecily.

  “You are not your own,” said Sumomo.

  “No, Mistress, we are the properties of our masters.”

  “Disgusting.”

  “We are slaves, Mistress.”

  “Surely you are horrified to be in collars.”

  “No, Mistress.”

  “How is that?”

  “We are slaves, Mistress.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Perhaps Mistress might better understand us, and assess our feelings, if she herself were collared.”

  “What!” cried Sumomo.

  “No woman fully understands her sex until she is owned by her master.”

  “She-tarsk, worthless she-tarsk!” cried Sumomo, leaping to her feet.

  “Forgive me, Mistress!” said Cecily.

  “You should be whipped, and whipped!” cried Sumomo.

  “No, Mistress! Please, no, Mistress!” wept Cecily. Slaves, as other beasts, know the whip, and will do much to avoid its stroke.

  “You asked her a question, beloved daughter,” said Lord Yamada. “She responded as best she could. Dismiss her. Permit her to continue serving.” He then addressed the other diners. “Note the kelp, the bamboo shoots, the fish, the lotus roots, and mushrooms.”

  “You are dismissed,” said Sumomo, angril
y, returning to her place, kneeling. “Continue serving.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily. “Thank you, Mistress. Forgive me, Mistress!”

  “Sake,” called Tajima to Saru, who hurried to bring him the second of his three small cups.

  I rose to my feet and went to stand to the left of the seated Lord Yamada. I noted that his hand now rested on the tasseled hilt of his companion sword, an accouterment with which men of his station were seldom without. It was at hand, even as they slept.

  “Noble lord,” I said, “I express my commendation at the excellence of the supper.”

  “Meat is also available, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said. “I have seen to it. Coast gull, vulo, tarsk, verr, and mountain deer.”

  “Lord Yamada is thoughtful, and more than generous,” I said, “but I speak to him of another matter. Behold, at this table, to your right, is the officer Tajima, Pani, as yourself, and but recently come from the holding of your enemy, Lord Temmu. The noble Tajima will be more informed than I of recent developments which may have occurred in the holding of Lord Temmu. They may be of interest to you.”

  “You suppose,” said Lord Yamada, “he might be reluctant to speak openly of such matters at this point?”

  “Yes,” I said, “even with your chain of gold now about his neck.”

  “I understand,” said Lord Yamada, softly.

  “Men are often disarmed by charm and beauty,” I said, “and may willingly, even eagerly, reveal to a woman, hoping to intrigue and impress her, matters which otherwise might be difficult to extract, even by the persuasions of ropes and irons.”

  “Sumomo,” said Lord Yamada.

  “Father?” she said, surprised.

  “The moons smile upon the garden,” he said. “The brook flows brightly between the rocks. The Night Singers rejoice in the branches.”

  “Father?” she said, puzzled.

  “It would please me,” he said, “if you would show our insignificant, humble garden to our guest, the noble Tajima, tarnsman.”

  “Surely not!” she said.

  “It would please me,” he said, smiling.

  “Yes,” said Sumomo, suddenly, “of course.”

  “Is this seemly?” asked Lord Akio.

  A woman of the high Pani would not be likely to be unattended in such a situation.

  “Ashigaru are about,” I said.

  “Perhaps,” said Lord Akio, “I might accompany them.”

  “Better to let the young people banter amongst themselves,” said Lord Yamada.

  I recalled that he had been willing to place Sumomo, in the guise of a contract woman, in the very holding of his mortal enemy, Lord Temmu.

  “Perhaps I am not interested in seeing the garden,” said Tajima.

  “Please, noble warrior,” said Sumomo.

  “His hands could be bound behind his body,” said Lord Akio.

  “He is our guest,” remonstrated Lord Yamada, dismayed.

  “At the first hint of unseemly conduct, great lady,” said Lord Akio, “call out, and Ashigaru will be at your side.”

  “Let us enter the garden, noble warrior,” said Sumomo.

  “Now I am ‘noble warrior’,” he observed.

  “And wear a golden chain,” she said.

  “You had little enough time for me before,” he said.

  Indeed, Sumomo, in Tarncamp, in Shipcamp, on the great ship, and in the holding of Lord Temmu, though supposedly only a contract woman, had treated him with derision and contempt, rather as might have the daughter of a shogun mocked and scorned the attentions of a lowly armsman. I had little understood the adamant nature of her seeming hostility. It had seemed inexplicable to me, particularly as I had taken her to be a contract woman. How could it be that such a woman would not show deference to a Pani male, and a warrior? It would have been simple enough to simply ignore him. But she had not done so.

  “Please,” said Sumomo, looking over her shoulder at Tajima, and smiling. I doubted that a contract woman could have done it better.

  “Very well,” he said, as though reluctantly.

  He then followed Sumomo down the three steps into the beckoning, moonlit garden.

  I did not know if this had been well done, or not, but, at least, Tajima was now in a position to inform the lovely Sumomo of her jeopardy.

  I could smell the fragrance of flowers.

  “I am not sure of this,” said Lord Akio, uneasily.

  “There are golden suls,” said Lord Yamada, “with butter and cream, from our own dairy.”

  “If we are to reach our rendezvous with Ichiro,” said Pertinax, “we must soon leave.”

  “There is time,” I said. “You seem to have been observing the flanks of Saru,” I said.

  “She is a worthless slave,” he said.

  “But she does have nice flanks,” I said, “and the collar is pretty on her neck.”

  “It is pretty on the neck of any woman,” he said.

  “Of course,” I said. “They are, and should be, slaves.”

  “True,” he said.

  “Doubtless you recall her from the offices of Earth,” I said.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “You find her more pleasing now than before, do you not?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” he said. “The worthless thing is now as she should be, a helpless, collared slave.”

  “Perhaps you would like to have your binding cord on her,” I said.

  “She is not worth the cord that would bind her,” he said.

  “Still she might look well, helpless, trussed at your feet,” I said.

  “At anyone’s feet,” he said.

  “True,” I said.

  I think very little time had passed when Sumomo, holding her kimono about herself, her face dark with anger, ascended the three steps, went behind the table, and resumed her position, kneeling.

  Her entire body was trembling, apparently with fury.

  “Shall I call Ashigaru?” inquired Lord Akio, anxiously, his right hand within his left sleeve.

  “No, great lord,” she snapped.

  She should not have spoken so, as she, even though a daughter of the shogun, was a female, and he was a male, and a daimyo.

  “What occurred, beloved daughter?” inquired Lord Yamada, solicitously. “Did our guest not enjoy the garden?”

  “On such a boor, and barbarian,” she said, “the bean garden of a peasant would be wasted.”

  “He was uncommunicative?” inquired the shogun.

  “He was communicative enough,” she said. “But he is mad, and not to be trusted. He knows nothing. He is ignorant. He speaks absurdities. I could not bring myself to repeat the ludicrous things I heard. He chose not to speak of the holding of Temmu. In the darkness he babbled only nonsense.”

  “Great lord,” I said to Lord Yamada, “I fear the beauty of your daughter, the aroma of the garden, the joy of the evening, the sparkle of sake, the light of the moons, the babble of the water, rendered my officer not himself, but stumbling and incoherent.”

  “He is young,” smiled Lord Yamada. “Sake and beauty have addled the wits of even daimyos, have they not dear Akio?”

  “As the shogun has said,” he smiled, lifting one of the small cups of sake to the shogun.

  Tajima then returned, and took his place, cross-legged, to the right of the shogun.

  “Did you enjoy the garden?” asked the shogun.

  “Very much,” said Tajima. “It is a beautiful garden.”

  “You did not stay long,” said the shogun.

  “Too much beauty is overwhelming,” said Tajima.

  Sumomo smiled.

  “I meant the garden,” said Tajima.

  “Of course,” said Sumomo.

  “Perhaps he did not trust himself,” said Lord Akio.

  “My friend would do much to avoid impugning his honor,” I said.

  “A father is proud,” said Lord Yamada, “to be the father of so beautiful and dangerously fascinating a daug
hter.”

  “I felt drops of rain,” said Tajima.

  A small, angry noise escaped Sumomo.

  The shogun looked out over the table, to the large, low, opened wall, beyond which lay the garden. “The garden is dark now,” he said. “The clouds have gathered.”

  “True,” said Tajima.

  “Perhaps another time,” said Lord Yamada, pleasantly.

  “Perhaps,” said Tajima.

  “We have eleven varieties of rice here,” said the shogun, “variously prepared, in stews, pastes, and cakes, and variously seasoned, with a dozen sauces and herbs. Too, consider the gifts of the sea and shore, from four of my fishing villages, clams, oysters, grunt, bag fish, song fish, shark, eels, octopus, wing fish, parsit, squid.”

  “You set a magnificent table,” I said to the shogun.

  “I rejoice if my humble offerings please you,” said the shogun.

  “She would not believe me,” said Tajima to me, in English.

  “I had gathered as much,” I said, in English.

  I heard rain gently falling on the leaves of the trees in the garden.

  “The Night Singers are quiet,” I said.

  “It is the rain,” said Lord Akio.

  “Perhaps we should have the screens closed,” I said.

  “Later,” said Lord Akio.

  “Light lanterns,” said Lord Yamada, and attending Ashigaru lit a number of dangling lanterns.

  As the lanterns were of diversely colored paper the room was aglow with a medley of illuminations, and yet the colors did not clash but each seemed to enhance the other. I was reminded of the architecture of the plantings, the sequences of flowers, in the garden outside, with their music of aromatic notes.

  “Two of our honored guests,” said Lord Yamada, “following my arrangements, designed to make clear my trustworthiness and good will, will soon leave, to rendezvous somewhere with one or more compatriots, following which they will return to the encampment of the cavalry. There they will reassure the cavalry of the safety and health of its commander, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, bear to it my good wishes and assure it of my friendship. It is then my hope that the cavalry, in the light of the despicable treatment of their commander, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, betrayed into the hands of a putative enemy, but an actual friend, the dreadful perfidy of the house of Temmu, the righteousness of my cause, and the wisdom of an alliance, one both noble and profitable, will pledge itself wisely to the house of Yamada, enlisting under the banner of the Shogun of the Islands.”