Players of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “Excellent,” said Chino.

  “Excellent!” cried Rowena.

  “Yes,” said Chino. “And it is interesting that you should put it just that way.”

  “What mean you, Sir?” demanded Rowena.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Chino.

  Lecchio, this time, it seemed, could make his determinations with little more than a cursory glance. “These coins are genuine,” he said.

  “Certainly they are!” cried Rowena.

  “But they are doubtless stolen,” said Lecchio, gravely.

  “What!” cried Rowena.

  “What is the amount?” inquired Chino.

  “Three double tarns, fifteen tarns, eighteen silver tarsks, twenty-seven copper tarsks, and one hundred and five tarsk-bits,” said Lecchio.

  “It is as I feared!” cried Chino.

  “Precisely,” said Lecchio.

  “I do not understand,” said Petrucchio.

  “That is the exact amount of money stolen from the vintner, Groppus, of Pseudopolis.”

  “Ah!” cried Petrucchio, scandalized.

  “It could, of course, be a coincidence,” said Chino. “When did you leave Pseudopolis?”

  “Two days ago, in the afternoon,” said Petrucchio.

  “It was just two days ago, in the morning, that the theft took place,” said Lecchio.

  “It could be a coincidence,” suggested Chino.

  “Of course,” agreed Lecchio.

  “This is absurd!” cried Rowena.

  “It is our money!” cried Lady Telitsia.

  “Give it back to us!” cried Bina.

  “Be patient, ladies,” said Chino, “—if ladies you truly be.”

  “What means this ‘if ladies you truly be’?” asked Petrucchio.

  “It has to do with our suspicions,” said Chino.

  “What suspicions?” inquired Petrucchio, anxiously.

  “Oh, nothing,” said Chino, evasively.

  “Speak, fellow!” cried Petrucchio, yanking at his sword. Then he gave up the attempt, it apparently being stuck in the sheath.

  “You have known these women personally, of course, for several years?” said Chino.

  “No,” said Petrucchio. “I am actually from Turia.”

  “It is probably nothing,” said Chino, reassuringly.

  “Give us back our money!” cried Rowena.

  “Speak!” demanded Petrucchio.

  “It is only that two days ago, in the morning,” said Chino, “in Pseudopolis, a sum of three double tarns, fifteen tarns, eighteen silver tarsks, twenty-seven copper tarsks, and one hundred and five tarsk-bits was stolen from the vintner, Groppus, by three female slaves masquerading as free women, reported to be heading in this direction, clad in garments precisely like those, on this road.”

  “That is the exact sum discovered on these women, it is not?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Why, yes, it is,” said Lecchio, apparently quickly checking the matter.

  “And many other things, too, seem to tally,” said Petrucchio, alarmed.

  “It could all be a coincidence,” said Lecchio.

  “Of course,” hastily agreed Chino.

  “Perhaps to you it might all seem a coincidence,” said Petrucchio, “but to one such as I, one of the caste of warriors, one trained in wariness and discernment, it seems there might be more to it.”

  “Oh?” asked Chino, interested.

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio.

  “There is no vintner, Groppus, in Pseudopolis!” said Rowena.

  “They are also reputed to be splendid liars,” said Chino.

  “I suspect that these three women with me might not be precisely what they seem,” hinted Petrucchio, darkly.

  “What!” cried Chino.

  “What!” cried Lecchio.

  “I think it is possible,” said Petrucchio, confidentially, to Chino and Lecchio, “that these very women with me may be the escaped slaves of whom you speak.”

  “No!” cried Chino.

  “No!” cried Lecchio.

  “Think,” said Petrucchio to them. “It was false coins they offered me in return for my services. Surely that is suspicious, if nothing else. Similarly the resources pooled among them, as we have ascertained, total the exact amount purloined from the wronged Groppus of Pseudopolis. Too, the theft took place just shortly before we left the city, thus permitting them to be in the place of the crime itself, and then giving them time to flee the city. Too, there are three of them, and they are heading on this road, in this direction, in exactly those garments.”

  Chino and Lecchio looked at one another, frightened, impressed.

  Petrucchio then stood upright, and twirled his mustache, meaningfully.

  “What should we do?” asked Chino, looking to Petrucchio, naturally enough, in the situation, for guidance.

  “Surely, for one thing,” said Lecchio, “we must keep this money, until it can be determined who its proper owner, or owners, may be.”

  “That is for certain,” agreed Petrucchio.

  “What are you talking about there?” asked Rowena.

  “Give us back our money,” said Lady Telitsia.

  Petrucchio turned about and looked sternly upon the women. They huddled together under this fierce gaze, drawing back.

  Lecchio and Chino hastily poured the coins into their wallets.

  “Are you all free women?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Certainly!” said Rowena.

  “Certainly!” said Lady Telitsia.

  “Certainly!” cried Bina.

  “What were the names of the escaped slaves?” asked Petrucchio of Chino and Lecchio.

  “Lana, Tana and Bana,” said Chino, quickly.

  “Yes, that is right,” said Lecchio.

  “Are you Lana, Tana and Bana?” asked Petrucchio.

  “No,” cried Rowena. “I am the Lady Rowena of Pseudopolis!”

  “And I am the Lady Telitsia of Pseudopolis!” said Lady Telitsia.

  “And I the Lady Bina of Pseudopolis!” said Bina.

  There was some laughter at this from the audience, for “Bina” is a not uncommon slave name. The word “bina” is generally used to designate very pretty beads, but beads which, nonetheless, are cheap, common, and simple. They are usually of painted wood or glass. With such beads common slaves, if they are sufficiently pleasing, might hope to be permitted to adorn themselves. Sometimes slave girls fight fiercely over such beads. The best simple translation of “bina” is “slave beads.” In the context of the play, of course, the audience took her, like the others, for the free woman she was supposed to be.

  “It seems our suspicions are unfounded,” said Petrucchio, relieved, “for these are not Lana, Tana and Bana, miserable escaped slaves, but the ladies Rowena, Telitsia and Bina, of Pseudopolis.”

  Chino and Lecchio looked at one another, disbelievingly. Then Chino said, “Unless, of course, they are lying.”

  “Ah!” said Petrucchio, thoughtfully, twirling his mustache.

  “Give us back our money!” said Rowena.

  “Let us make a determination on the matter,” said Chino.

  “How shall we do that?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Give us our money!” cried Rowena.

  “Be silent, female,” said Chino.

  “‘Female’?” she said, startled.

  “Yes, ‘female’,” he said.

  “What do you suggest?” asked Petrucchio.

  “Tests,” said Chino, grimly.

  “What do you have in mind?” asked Petrucchio, alarmed.

  “Put back your hood, take off your veil, you,” said Chino to Rowena.

  “My hood! My veil!” she cried.

  “Yes,” said Chino.

  “Never!” she cried.

  Chino regarded her, grimly.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “We wish to determine whether you are a free woman, or a slave,” he said.

  “A slave!” she cried, outraged. “I shall have y
ou taken before the law for slander!”

  “Do you wish to have it done for you?” inquired Chino, meaningfully.

  “No!” she cried.

  “Then, comply,” said Chino.

  “‘Comply’!” she cried.

  “Yes,” said Chino, “and quickly.”

  “This is an outrage!” she cried. “It is an unspeakable insult! I shall have the magistrates on you for this!”

  Chino took a quick step toward her, and she stepped back hastily, fumbling with the hood and veil.

  “We shall now quickly see if you are a free woman or a slave,” he said.

  “How dare you even suggest such a thing!” she cried. “You are a slandering sleen!” But she removed her hood and veil, quickly, frightened, complying.

  “There!” cried Chino, triumphantly.

  “There!” cried Lecchio, triumphantly.

  “That is the face of a slave, if I ever saw one!” cried Chino.

  “Yes!” cried Lecchio.

  “No!” cried Rowena, but, to be sure, she put down her head and almost began to laugh. Men in the audience, too, laughed. Too, there was genuine applause in the audience for her beauty. She kept her head down for a moment, appreciatively basking in this, radiantly. Only too obviously she was that beautiful, beautiful enough to be a slave. Then she lifted her head again, struggling to return to character. “No! No!” she said, half laughing.

  “Oh, but yes!” called a man from the audience.

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered, her lips forming the words. “Thank you, Master.” Then her lips pursed a moment and sped him a kiss. I had little doubt he would call for her after the performance.

  “You, there, too!” called Chino to Lady Telitsia. “And you, as well, little female,” he said to Bina.

  In a moment they, too, had thrust back their hoods and removed their veils.

  “There!” cried Chino, triumphantly. “And, there! Those, too, are the faces of slaves!”

  There was agreement shouted from the audience. They were pleased, of course, to see the girls, at last.

  “No!” cried Lady Telitsia.

  “No!” cried Bina, dutifully.

  There was more laughter from the audience.

  “You see,” said Chino to Petrucchio, “they have the faces of slaves.”

  “Clearly,” agreed Petrucchio.

  The girls cried out in protest.

  “It remains, of course,” said Chino, “to see if they have the bodies of slaves.”

  “Of course,” granted Petrucchio, twirling a mustache.

  “No!” cried the girls.

  “Strip,” commanded Chino, “now, totally!”

  “No!” cried the girls, but, at a menacing gesture from Chino, the meaningful lifting of his open right hand, suggesting that the least dilatoriness might be rewarded with cuffings, or worse, as though they might be mere slaves, they hastened to comply. The audience shouted its encouragement. The girls were quite lovely. Their disrobing, leaving only scarves about their necks, concealing their collars, and round, adhesive patches on their thighs, concealing their brands, was done mostly in character, with apprehension and reluctance, with piteous whimperings, suitable lamentations, and such, but Bina, in the matter of the last veil, so to speak, in this case a final wrap-around sliplike garment, drew it away from her with a sensuousness, a pride and insolence, that clearly proclaimed her slave. I did not think she would have done this before having been given into the use of the player. Indeed, she was facing the player when she did it, and I suspected that it was primarily for him that she had so slave-bared herself. He, in the audience, joined in the applause. She smiled. His slave bracelet was on her wrist. Her use was his.

  Chino seized Rowena by the hair, and, lifting his arm up, held her up straight, before Petrucchio, and Lecchio took Lady Telitsia and Bina into custody, one in each hand, in exactly the same fashion, making them stand up straight, displaying them identically. “Do they have the bodies of slaves?” Chino asked the audience.

  “Yes!” shouted several of the men in the audience. It was true. Their bodies had been designed by nature to be incredibly exciting and attractive to men, and to provide men with incomparable pleasures and services.

  “Note the slave bodies,” said Chino to Petrucchio.

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio, noting them well.

  “And their delicious slave curves,” said Chino, bending Rowena back a bit.

  “Yes!” said Petrucchio.

  “No! No!” cried the girls.

  “But can they move as slaves?” inquired Chino.

  “Never!” cried Rowena.

  “Wiggle, Lana,” said Chino.

  “I am the Lady Rowena of Pseudopolis!” cried Rowena.

  “Now,” said Chino.

  “Never!” she cried. “Oh!” she cried, wincing, Chino’s hand in her hair, tightening and twisting, instructing her in obedience.

  “See?” asked Chino of Petrucchio.

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio.

  “Very good, Lana,” said Chino. “That is enough for now, thank you. You, now, Tana. You, now, Bana.” At his words, of course, Lady Telitsia and Bina, too, wiggled, and, in Lecchio’s grip, having little choice, wiggled well. The girls were not dancers, of course, but they were slaves. A woman who has been in a collar and helplessly in the hands of men does this sort of thing rather differently, of course, than would a virgin or an inert free woman. They cannot help it. Still, in the comedic situation, given their characterizations, they strove, successfully, I think, to give the impression of free women being forced to move in this fashion and yet, at the same time, marvelously, managed to be sexually attractive. The movements, of course, were not, nor were they intended to be, those of an actually displayed slave in such a predicament, say, in a market or capture camp, being commanded, say, to “move” before men, the adagio movements, the sudden movements, the melodious movements, the incredibly sensuous movements, generating a slow, almost glowing sexual heat, in which a girl indicates her charms, and displays them hopefully, perhaps even desperately, to men, in an earnest attempt to please, perhaps, even, to win her life. On the other hand, at one point, Bina did twist toward the player and, somewhat out of character, moved in such a way that there was no doubt that it was to him, he who had her current use, that she was presenting herself. He raised his hand a small way above the table, hardly more than a movement of fingers, acknowledging this. She then returned to character, still helpless, of course, in Lecchio’s grip.

  “Very good, girls,” said Chino. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “Clearly they are slaves,” said Petrucchio.

  “No!” protested the girls.

  “Down on your hands and knees, facing that direction,” said Chino to Rowena. “You, Tana, behind her, identically postured, and you, Bana, behind her, same position!”

  “I assure you,” said Rowena, “you are making a terrible mistake. I am the Lady Rowena of Pseudopolis!”

  “And I am the Lady Telitsia of Pseudopolis,” said Lady Telitsia.

  “And I,” cried Bina, “am the Lady Bina of Pseudopolis!”

  “You see?” asked Chino. “They position exactly like slaves.”

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio, considering this additional evidence.

  “I assure you,” protested Rowena, “our identities are exactly as we claim. Examine our documents!”

  “It is a simple matter to produce forgeries,” said Lecchio.

  “Oh!” cried Rowena, in frustration.

  “You are clever slaves, to be sure,” said Chino, “but now it is all over for you. You have been caught.”

  “We are not slaves!” cried Rowena.

  “They look well, positioned, do they not?” asked Chino.

  “Yes,” admitted Petrucchio.

  “We are not slaves!” cried Rowena. “Look! Look! We are not collared! We are not branded!” These lines were quite acceptable in the context of the play. In the play, as I have indicated, the collars
were covered by light scarves and the brands by circular, adhesive patches. Thus, in the context of the play, in virtue of these simple theatrical conventions, the slaves were understood as, and unhesitantly accepted as, free women.

  “That was doubtless much the trouble,” said Chino, disapprovingly. “Their former masters were too indulgent with them.”

  “I shall have the law on you for this!” cried Rowena.

  “Slaves have no standing before the law,” said Chino. “Surely you know that, Lana.”

  “I am not Lana,” she cried. “I am a free woman! I am not a slave!”

  “Perhaps you should consider being silent,” suggested Chino, “lest you be whipped for lying.”

  “Perhaps we should proceed with caution,” said Petrucchio.

  “They are clever slaves,” mused Lecchio.

  “I doubt that they are clever enough to fool one such as the great Petrucchio,” said Chino.

  “I do not know,” said Lecchio, worryingly. Then he turned to Petrucchio. “Can such slaves fool you?” he asked.

  “No,” said Petrucchio. “Of course not!”

  “See?” Chino said to Lecchio.

  “Yes,” said Lecchio.

  “We are not slaves!” cried Rowena.

  “Let us see if they chain as slaves,” said Chino. “Do you have some chains in your things?” he asked Petrucchio.

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio.

  “What are you talking about?” demanded Rowena.

  Chains, with collars, were brought out. “Oh!” said Bina, a collar, with its looped chain in the hands of Chino, closed about her neck.

  “What is going on?” asked Rowena, at the head of the line.

  The chain, with two more collars, was passed between the legs, under the body, and between the arms of Lady Telitsia. “Oh!” she said. She now wore the chain’s middle collar.

  “I hear the clink of chain!” cried Rowena. “What is going on?”

  “Oh!” she cried, now in the first collar, its chain looping back beneath her body, and then looping up to Lady Telitsia’s collar, from whose collar, of course, her own chain, passing beneath her body, swung back to keep its own sturdy, linked-steel rendezvous with the ring on the third collar, that locked on Bina’s neck.

  “You see,” said Chino. “They chain as slaves.”

  “Yes,” said Petrucchio, twirling a mustache. “The evidence mounts moment by moment. They have the faces of slaves. They have the bodies of slaves. They wiggle like slaves. They position like slaves. They chain like slaves. Clearly they are slaves. The matter is beyond all doubt.”