Renegades of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “It is not unlikely,” I said.

  “Slave!” hissed Lady Publia.

  We then regarded Lady Publia, kneeling there, naked, in the straw, her rags back over her calves.

  She had beautiful eyes and hair, and features. She had a marvelous belly, breasts, and thighs, a luscious love cradle. Women are so incredibly, so unutterably beautiful! They have been made for seizing in one’s arms, and owning and collaring.

  “She is very beautiful,” said Lady Claudia.

  I studied Lady Publia closely, to her acute discomfort, as she looked away, frightened, not wanting to meet my eyes. Yes, I thought, it is true, she is very beautiful, and those small, white limbs would look well in shackles, and that face, those breasts and thighs would exhibit well on the block, under the torches of an auction.

  “Very beautiful,” said Lady Claudia.

  “No more so than you,” I said.

  “Am I truly so beautiful,” asked Lady Claudia.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Lady Claudia put down her head, shyly.

  I supposed it would not do to tell Lady Claudia, as she was still a free woman, but she was actually, at this time, at any rate, far more beautiful than Lady Publia. This was because she had now begun to get in touch with her womanhood. In the past few days in the cell she had begun to discover herself; she had begun to learn her femaleness.

  “But you are a slave,” snarled Lady Publia.

  “Yes,” whispered Lady Claudia, speaking not her legal status but her truth.

  Lady Publia laughed, scornfully.

  Lady Claudia lowered her head, shamed.

  I wondered if Lady Publia thought her own truth was different. She, too, after all, was a female.

  “Slave!” sneered Lady Publia.

  Lady Claudia did not respond.

  In general physical characteristics, such as their height and figure, their eyes and hair, their complexion and such, they were rather similar.

  Lady Publia regarded Lady Claudia scornfully.

  Lady Claudia did not meet her eyes.

  I thought they might look well, particularly if Lady Publia were improved, as a brace of slaves. Sometimes one can get more for two girls together, as a brace, each reinforcing or enhancing, or setting off, the other in some way, than one could get for them both, sold separately. To be sure, many buyers, when they buy more than one item, expect a discount on one or both of the items.

  “Turn about now,” I said to Lady Publia, “and go to your stomach, as you were before, with your arms at your sides, the palms up.”

  She did so, and now lay as she had before except that now she was stripped.

  “You are a free woman, as I understand it,” I said.

  “Yes!” she said.

  I put her hair behind her back, over her shoulders.

  “And what, then,” I asked, “would you have done, if Cosians had come upon you?”

  “I am a free woman!” she said. “I am not a slave! I would never have surrendered!”

  “I do not like her, Master,” said Lady Claudia. “And I would not be as she. I would find that disgusting and terrible, as well as ultimately barren and miserable. Yet in a way I must stand in awe of her. Does she not prove that there may be free women, at least at a given time, in a given place, no matter how horrifying they may be or whatever one may think of them? To be sure, she has not been in the arms of a master. One supposes some women first learn their slavery in such a place.”

  “I suspect,” I said, “that women first learn their slavery in their dreams, and in their secret thoughts, and in their heart’s desires. Perhaps they learn it when first they carry the candles of their longing into the recesses of their being, hoping to free their deepest self and bring it into meadows of honesty and sunlight, when first they dare to open the doors of yearning, when first they sense somewhere a radiant and more fulfilling world.”

  “It should have been so with me,” she said, “but I fought these feelings. I thrust them from me. They terrified me. I dared not entertain them. I tried to mock them. I tried to kill them with ridicule. But they would not die. More easily might I have sneered at the tides and the wind. It was rather I who was mocked, I who was ridiculed. So I closed them away, and denied they existed. Yet often I could hear, as though in some cellar, their pacing and whimpering, their scratching and howling.”

  “I am not sure there are free women,” I said, “except in a trivial legal sense.”

  “I am such a woman!” cried Lady Publia.

  “How such women shame women such as I, who are weak and needful, and loving,” said Lady Claudia.

  “In your weakness and need, and love,” I said, “in your honesty, and truth, you are a thousand times stronger, and greater, than such caricatures of women, than such travesties of women, than such pseudomales and facsimile men, denying themselves and their feelings, holding themselves rigid, not daring to feel or be themselves.”

  “But men keep women such as I powerless,” she said, touching her thigh.

  “Yes,” I said, “and you love it.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, frightened, looking down, trembling with emotion.

  “You are a woman,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “A slave,” I said.

  “Yes,” she whispered, softly.

  “But,” I said, addressing myself to the prone prisoner, her arms beside her, the palms of her hands up, exposed, “you, I gather, are a free woman.”

  “Yes,” she said, angrily.

  “You would never surrender.”

  “No!”

  “You would rather accept the sword?”

  “Yes, gladly!” she said.

  I smiled.

  “I would not be as she,” said Lady Claudia, “certainly not any more, after what I have learned, but you can see how noble she is, how like a man!”

  “She does not look like a man,” I said, considering her luscious form.

  “I mean ‘on the inside,’” said Lady Claudia.

  “You really feel you are so different?” I asked.

  “Surely,” she said. “Was that not evident from her sternness, her strictness, as our warder?”

  “You mean the petty abuses of her small power?” I asked.

  “If you like,” she said.

  I looked at the lovely form of Lady Publia. “You think there is a man inside her?” I asked.

  “In a sense,” said Lady Claudia. “It would seem so.”

  “I do not think there is a man inside her,” I said. “I think there may be, however, a woman inside her, pretending to be a man.”

  Lady Publia’s fists clenched.

  I gathered together the scarflike material she had had wrapped turbanlike about her head, her veil and her “rags,” and handed them to Lady Claudia.

  “What are you doing?” asked the prisoner.

  “Put these over there, by the rope, and the leash and collar,” I said to Lady Claudia.

  She obeyed. She then returned, to be beside me.

  I glanced at Lady Publia’s clenched fists. “Open your hands, palms up, as they were before,” I said.

  She obeyed.

  This position makes a woman feel vulnerable.

  “There are trumpets outside,” said Lady Claudia, suddenly.

  “It is another assault,” I said. Almost simultaneously there were raised thousands of cheers.

  “There are your friends, the Cosians,” I said to Lady Publia.

  “They are not my friends!” she said.

  If there was a response from the walls, it was hard to make it out.

  “But yet you were preparing yourself quite carefully, hoping to be permitted to belong to one as a slave.”

  “Liar!” she cried. I saw her small fingers move, but she did not dare to clench her fists. The fingers moved helplessly, but the palms remained facing upward, exposed.

  “You were bearing much gold,” I said, “which, foolishly, you thought to offer to Cosians,
that they might spare you and keep you as a slave. But that was stupid. For they would take the gold and then do what they wanted with you, putting you to the sword or not, as they pleased.”

  She cried out in anger.

  “But if your thoughts in this matter had been correct,” I said, “it might have been too bad, might it not, for many of the other women of Ar’s Station, women less fortunate, less rich, than you, who lacked the means wherewith to purchase their lives?”

  “That could not be my concern,” she said, angrily.

  “But I assure you, Lady Publia,” I said, “the pertinent determinations in such matters, when the women are stripped and stood against a wall, are not made on the basis of gold.”

  “I suppose not,” she said, bitterly.

  “Why, too,” I asked, “did you, a wealthy woman, of the Merchants, choose to wear artful rags, as though you might be a simple low-caste maid?”

  She was silent.

  “There were two reasons,” I said. “The first is that you feared that the high castes and the richer castes, such as the Merchants, might be less likely to be spared by the enemy, that they might be the subject of more resentment, perhaps because of envy, or perhaps that they would be particularly sought out for vengeance, on the supposition that they, presumably the more powerful castes in the city, might be most responsible for the prolongation of the siege. You, on the other hand, by your disguise, so to speak, might hope to escape such a fate. Cosians would see you, you hoped, not in terms of politics, but merely in terms of loot. The second reason is more interesting. You wanted to be seen in terms of something well worth hunting and capturing. Thus the artful rags, apparently so inadvertently but excitingly, displaying your calves. You did not wish to be brought down with a quarrel at a distance but to find yourself at close quarters with captors. Then you would surrender to them.”

  “No!” she cried.

  “It is for such a reason,” I said, “that your rags were designed to be removed swiftly, so easily and gracefully, and on your knees.”

  “No!” she said. “No!”

  “Lie quietly,” I said. “And most interestingly, and objectionably,” I said, “you had not had your hair shorn.”

  Lady Publia did not respond.

  “To be sure,” I said, “you wished to give the impression that you had done so. That was the purpose of the cloth you wore about your head. It was intended to make it seem as though you, perhaps in understandable vanity or embarrassment, wished to conceal shortly cropped hair. Certainly I, at first, assumed your hair had been shorn.”

  “I, too,” said Lady Claudia.

  “Do you recall,” I asked Lady Claudia, “that I earlier suggested that there might be a reason, other than reasons of your sort, for not having her hair cropped?”

  “Yes,” said Lady Claudia.

  “Do you now suspect such a reason?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. “With such hair, such lovely hair,” I said, toying with it, behind Lady Publia’s back, “she would be more likely to be spared.”

  Lady Publia tensed, angrily.

  “Let other women have their hair shorn,” I said, “donating it to the defense of their city. Not she. It, like the artful rags, their length, their ease of removal, and such, had its clever, calculated part to play in her plan. She would thus, retaining her hair, it enhancing her beauty, if captured, stand out like a paga slave amongst mill sluts. If selections were to be made, it then seems that surely she would be among the first chosen, not for the sword, but for the chain.”

  Lady Publia’s small fingers moved wildly, angrily, but she dared not close her hands. The palms remained up, exposed.

  “There are the trumpets again,” said Lady Claudia.

  “It is the recall,” I said.

  “But they will come again, will they not?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “and, if necessary, again, and again.”

  I looked down at Lady Publia.

  “Does it seem fair to you,” I asked Lady Claudia, “that Lady Publia should have such an advantage over the other women of Ar’s Station?”

  “I do not know,” said Lady Claudia.

  “It does not seem fair to me,” I said. “When you were going through our friends’ pouches over there, did you find any small knives, such as a hook knife or a shaving knife?”

  I had a belt knife myself, which was sheathed on the sword belt, to the right, but at the moment I preferred something lighter-bladed, smaller and sharper, if it were available.

  “One fellow had a shaving knife,” said Lady Claudia.

  “Bring it to me,” I said.

  “What do you want it for?” said Lady Publia, anxiously.

  In a moment Lady Claudia had returned with the implement.

  “What are you going to do!” cried Lady Publia.

  “Hold still,” I said.

  “No!” she wept. “No!”

  In a few moments I discarded the small knife, throwing it to the side. Lady Publia was lying in the straw, bawling. She clutched her head wildly, in dismay, in disbelief.

  “Kneel,” I said, “facing me.”

  Weeping, Lady Publia obeyed, her hands still on her head.

  “Now,” I said, “if Cosians come on you, you will be on the same footing as the other women of Ar’s Station.”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  I had left her enough hair so that I could get my hand in it, in the scrub of it, so that I might use it as the guard had earlier the hair of Lady Claudia, to control her. Too, thusly, it was now of a convenient length for a Cosian to seize it, should that eventuality occur. It was of about the same length as that of Lady Claudia.

  Lady Publia, half hysterical, kept her hands on her head. This lifted her breasts nicely. Then, seeing my eyes on her, she wept and put down her head, kneeling low, her hands still over her head.

  “Prisoner,” said I, harshly, “on all fours.”

  She assumed this position.

  “Go to the place where you put the clothing,” I said to Lady Claudia, “by the rope, the leash and collar, and wait there.”

  Lady Claudia hurried to the place.

  I then stood up and looked down at Lady Publia.

  “Lift your head, prisoner,” I said.

  She did so.

  “Even shorn as she is,” I said to Lady Claudia, “do you not think that Cosians might spare her?”

  “She is very beautiful,” said Lady Claudia, “even shorn as she is. Yes, I think that Cosians might spare her.”

  “Lift up one end of the rope,” I said to Lady Claudia.

  She did so.

  I then, abruptly, seized Lady Publia by the scrub of her dark hair and pulled her, she crying out, half crawling, half being dragged, over to where Lady Claudia waited. It was precisely so that the guard, earlier, had treated Lady Claudia.

  “Kneel here,” I said to Lady Publia, indicating the same spot where Lady Claudia had knelt, “up, off your heels, your arms at your sides.”

  Frightened, Lady Publia complied.

  It was exactly in such a position that Lady Claudia had been knelt by the guard.

  I then took the free end of the rope from Lady Claudia’s hand and, exactly as she had been tied, with the many coils, beginning near her waist, began to bind Lady Publia.

  “What are you doing?” moaned Lady Publia.

  “Put on her clothing,” I said to Lady Claudia. “Hurry.” The most recent assault force, the third of the morning, had been recalled. This meant a lull. At such a time men could be freed from the walls. Too, it was now late morning.

  “What does she think she is doing!” demanded Lady Publia, outraged. “Oh!”

  “As I recall,” I said to Lady Publia, “you recommended that the ropes be made tight.”

  “Oh!” she said. Then suddenly, again, “Oh!” Then, “Please,” she begged, “do not make them so tight!” Then, “Oh! Oh!” she said.

  Then she was trussed.r />
  “Your calves and ankles,” I said to Lady Claudia, “are as attractive as hers.”

  Lady Claudia flushed with pleasure at my compliment. Then she said, delightedly, touching the garment, “I have not worn clothes in days!” I smiled to myself. I thought she might as well enjoy clothes, while she was permitted them.

  “Now put on the veil, and wrap the cloth about your head, quickly,” I said, “as she had them.”

  “What is the meaning of this outrage!” demanded Lady Publia, squirming in the ropes.

  “That is very good,” I said to Lady Claudia. She, like Lady Publia, had dark brown eyes. If one did not know Lady Publia personally, or if one did not know her all that well, I did not think there would be any difficulty in Lady Claudia’s being taken for her.

  “What is this all about?” asked Lady Publia.

  “Go to the fellows over there by the wall,” I said, “and cut free one of their tunics. I need some cloth.”

  Lady Claudia did so, using a belt knife, taken from one of the guards.

  “What is this all about?” said Lady Publia, again, insistently, angrily.

  I then put the collar about her neck. Its leash was already attached. She then knelt there, as had Lady Claudia, leashed and collared.

  “I do not understand!” said Lady Publia, angrily.

  I stood up, and looked down at her. She was on her knees, bound.

  She trembled.

  Women understand being so situated.

  They understand it in their mind, and in their heart, and in their belly. Such things speak to them of their place in nature, that they by right, and by ancient genetic decree, belong to men, that they are of a sort which, with all their beauty and desirability, over thousands of generations, have been bred for masters.

  In a moment Lady Claudia had rejoined me, carrying a good bit of cloth.

  “Release me,” demanded Lady Publia.

  “You are going to help us leave the citadel,” I told her.

  “Never!” she said.

  “I have a plan,” I said.

  “Doubtless you think she can pass herself off as me,” she said, scornfully.