Renegades of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “You have been found guilty of treason against your city, and are under sentence of impalement,” said Aemilianus. “Do you gainsay either of these assertions?”

  “No,” she said.

  Aemilianus turned to Marsias, who lay nearby, wounded, reclining on one elbow, on a pallet. “Marsias,” said he, “have you the strength to carry out the sentence?”

  The man nodded.

  “Do you, Lady Claudia,” asked Aemilianus, “regret your treason?”

  “Keenly,” she said.

  “For you were apprehended,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “But it goes much beyond such simplicities.”

  “Speak,” he said.

  “I have learned,” she said, “in the cell, and in the arms of a man, what I am, truly. I forsook the softness and the reality of my being for ambition and cruelty. I had not understood earlier what it was to be a woman, or the joys, and meaning, of service and love. I sought power when I, rightfully, should have been subject to it, reveling in helplessness, submission and love. I did great wrong in seeking, one such as I, to interfere in the destiny of states, which is not my province. I have brought pain to myself and others. I am pleased only that my acts, as far as I know, had no consequences seriously deleterious to my city or her citizens.”

  “You accept the justice of your impalement?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “as I am a free woman. But I think it would be more appropriate if I were fed to sleen.”

  “Such things are for slaves,” he said.

  “Yes, Commander,” she said.

  “Look over there,” he said, indicating the former Lady Publia, chained and prone. “That is a slave,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Lady Claudia.

  “Are you like her?” he asked, scornfully.

  “Yes,” she said.

  The former Lady Publia, so helpless, looked at her, gratefully, with tears in her eyes.

  “No, you are not,” said Aemilianus, “for you are free.”

  “But I envy her,” said Lady Claudia. “She is at least free to be what she is, and wholly, but I am not.”

  The slave, frightened, moved a little in her chains. The links made a tiny sound on the deck, near her ankles. Looking about, I saw that more than one man would have been interested in having her.

  “Has a suitable spear been prepared?” asked Aemilianus.

  “I have seen to it,” said Marsias.

  “Let her garments be removed,” said Aemilianus.

  It took but a moment to pull the rags back, and down, from her body. It would take another moment or so to remove them completely, for them to be cut or torn from her, as they were now held on her by the chaining of the sirik, that of her wrists. Men’s eyes glistened. I heard soft whistles, the intakings of breath, small, almost inadvertent gasps, and other tributes, somewhat more vulgar, things such as small clicks and the smackings of lips, to her beauty, noises which would generally be expected to greet the revelation of the beauty of a slave, rather than that of a free woman. She blushed, and yet was proud, I am sure, of her beauty. She did have superb slave curves. I did not doubt but what she would bring a good price in a slave market. Her entire body gloriously made clear a luscious hormonal richness and an exquisite femininity. She was a beautiful woman. The rags then had been cut from her and thrown to the side. She knelt then before us, beautifully. Many men, including myself, struck our left shoulders in applause.

  There was little doubt that Aemilianus himself was impressed with her.

  I think that any man might have been impressed with her, whether he found her as a free prisoner on the deck of the Tais or in some slave market, chained on a bench, awaiting a buyer.

  “You could have been a bred slave,” he said.

  “In a sense I am a bred slave,” she said, “for I am a woman.”

  “The spear is ready,” said a man.

  “Let her chains be removed,” said Aemilianus, “and her hands tied behind her. Use a belly thong.”

  With the belly thong, presumably her hands would be tied closely, tightly, at the small of her back. This is an excellent, general tie. It is seldom, however, if ever, used in impalements. Apparently Aemilianus had called for the tie, in this context, as an act of mercy. He did not want her to be able to get her fingers on the spear which, in their futility and helplessness, might delay, or deepen or prolong the agony of impalement.

  “May I speak?” I inquired.

  One fellow, with a thong, and the key to the Lady Claudia’s locks had already stepped forward. When I spoke, he halted, and stepped back. I assumed he would remove the Lady Claudia’s wrist rings first, then affix the belly thong on her, fastening her hands behind her back, tightly, and then, and then only, remove the ankle rings and the collar, the remainder of the sirik. Such, at any rate, would have been a common Gorean manner of proceeding.

  “Of course,” said Aemilianus.

  “In the cell, yesterday morning,” I said, it seemed a long time ago now, “I gathered that my fate was not to be inextricably linked to that of Lady Claudia, that you had perhaps not convinced yourself, and quite properly, of my guilt in the matter of espionage.”

  “True,” said Aemilianus. “I was not sure of you, what you were, or why you did what you did. There are still many things I do not understand, for example, about the military actions, and inactions, of the past months.”

  “Much would become clear,” I said, “if you were willing to entertain the possibility of treason in Ar, treason in high places, treason of profound character and enormous scope.”

  “Only days ago,” said Aemilianus, “that would have seemed unthinkable.”

  “But it is not so unthinkable now?” I asked.

  “No,” said Aemilianus.

  “Clearly Ar’s Station was abandoned, and presumably therewith the Vosk, and its basin, surrendered to Cos.”

  “My general sympathies,” said Calliodorus, “as will be understood, are with Cos in these matters. Certainly I have no love for Ar. But if Cos thinks to hold sway upon the river I think, then, she has not reckoned with Port Cos, nor with the river towns themselves. We on the river will welcome neither the sceptered emissaries of Lurius of Jad nor Marlenus of Ar. Too, in the Vosk League, to which Port Cos is party, we have the nucleus of a vehicle for our alliance, a vehicle for common action if not common governance.”

  “Ar looks not with favor upon the Vosk League,” said Aemilianus. “She sees in it the possibility of another Salerian Confederation.”

  “She did not permit Ar’s Station to join the league,” said Calliodorus.

  “It was thought by many in Ar, seemingly Marlenus among them,” said Aemilianus, “that entry into the league would appear to accept the principle that Ar was but one power among others on the river, and not the sole mistress of the waterway, as she would be. Cos may have acted more judiciously in the matter, thinking that Port Cos might dominate the league, and that she, in turn, might exercise her own control over it, through the might of Port Cos.”

  “If such were her intent, and I do not doubt it,” said Calliodorus, “she misjudged the interests, the pride and temper of Port Cos. Though we have close ties, historical, cultural and political, with Cos, we are, unlike Ar’s Station, a sovereign polity in our own right. We are in all ways institutionally and legally autonomous.”

  “Yes?” said Aemilianus, returning his attention to me.

  “It had not pleased me,” I said, “that this woman,” and here I indicated the Lady Claudia by placing my foot against her, and thrusting her forward, so that she fell to all fours in her chains on the deck, “was to be impaled.”

  “It was the justice of Ar’s Station,” said Aemilianus.

  “Look upon her,” I said. “Does not impalement in this case seem a waste of slut?”

  Lady Claudia, a free woman, gasped, so spoken of. Yet, too, she shuddered with pleasure in her chains, realizing that she had been found worthy by a man to have so familiar, vulgar
and exciting an expression, and doubtlessly appropriately, applied to her.

  “The question,” said Aemilianus, “is not so much the suitability of the female for “helpless-slut” status as one of justice.”

  “I determined then in the cell,” I said, “to take action, not merely, of course, for her sake, but for mine as well, as I could not know for certain what you would eventually decide in my case, nor could I count on being released from a burning citadel by Cosians. After all, they might not take more interest in their enemies’ criminals, and such, than in their enemies themselves. Also, Lady Claudia was to be well fed that morning, and so this put sustenance in my way, of which I took advantage. Indeed, I perhaps ate better than any in Ar’s Station that morning.”

  “Your action on behalf of Lady Claudia,” he said, “was very nearly successful. Had it not been for the timely arrival of our friend Calliodorus, and certain mysterious others, she might now be in the chains of Cosians rather than in those of Ar’s Station. But, as it turned out, Calliodorus, and others, did arrive, and she did not escape. We are prepared to overlook your attempt to abet her escape, serious though this is, in view of your action on the wall, and elsewhere.”

  “My position on the matter, however,” I said, “has not changed.”

  Lady Claudia rose to her knees, and turned, to face me, wildly. The former Lady Publia, the nameless, chained slave lying on her belly, on the deck, turned her head to look at me. Aemilianus’ slave, Shirley, too, regarded me, her eyes wide, frightened. Men stepped back a little, uneasily. More than one loosened the blade in his sheath.

  “Do you approve of treason?” asked Aemilianus.

  “Not generally,” I said.

  “Perhaps you approve of it, however,” he asked, “in this specific case, in the case of the Lady Claudia?”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “Surely a polity, even if it be one of pirates, if it is to survive, if it is to protect itself, must establish some forms of justice and law within its own precincts?”

  “One would suppose so,” I said.

  “Even if it is of the rack and spear.”

  “I would suppose so,” I said.

  “By what title then would you presume to interfere, by that of the sword?”

  “Please, noble sir,” wept the Lady Claudia. “Risk nothing for me, a traitress! You have too much imperiled yourself already on my behalf, so unworthy an object!”

  “Were you given permission to speak?” I asked her.

  She was silent, startled. She was, after all, a free woman.

  “I have no intention of imperiling myself on your behalf,” I informed her.

  She did not speak, confused.

  “She looks well in slave chains, does she not?” I asked Aemilianus.

  “Yes,” he said. She was a dream in such chains, and their meaning. It lacked only that she should wear them truly, as a slave.

  “The men of Ar’s Station,” I said, “I would suppose, have no particular interest, personally, in impaling this female.”

  Several of the men laughed.

  “On the high spear of public, legal impalement, of course,” I added.

  There was more laughter.

  The Lady Claudia shuddered, understanding what it might be to be at the mercy of men.

  I turned to Aemilianus. “What do those of Ar’s Station value most highly,” I asked, “their justice—or their honor?”

  Several of the men cried out, angrily. Lest some not understand their fury, let it be said, simply, that they were Goreans. Several hands grasped the hilts of swords.

  “Their honor,” said Aemilianus, quietly.

  “I am not of Ar’s Station,” I said, “and I have little love for her. Indeed, I do not see why I should, as I was not well treated within her walls. But yet I have served her, and perhaps well. Is that not so?”

  “It is so,” said Aemilianus. “Indeed, had you not held the wall as long as you did, and the gate, and had you not aided in the evacuation of the landing, and had you not, with others, held the walkway until it could be destroyed behind you, I think there would be few of us here now who would be alive today.”

  “Then perhaps you will not think the less of me if I ask a boon,” I said.

  “You will not assure us it was all ‘nothing’?” smiled Aemilianus.

  “Was it nothing?” I asked.

  “No,” he smiled. “It was not nothing.”

  “I ask a boon then,” I said.

  “I am surprised that you would do so,” he said.

  “Think of me then as a mercenary,” I said, “and I am speaking of my pay.”

  “We did not contract for your services,” he said.

  “I know,” I said. “This is a matter of honor.”

  “Speak,” he said.

  “I ask the commutation of the sentence of impalement in the case of the Lady Claudia of Ar’s Station.”

  “You do not ask for her freedom?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” I said. “She is guilty.”

  “You have no objection then,” he said, “in view of her guilt, if a terrible and grievous penalty is inflicted upon her?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Even a fate ‘worse than death’?” he smiled.

  “Who speaks of it so?” I asked.

  I recalled that long ago, some women on Earth had spoken similarly of rape. Yet I think they would have been quick enough, under appropriate circumstances, to spread their legs for force masters. The silliness of such talk, I gathered, was not now often heard on Earth. Interestingly enough, such assertions are still common among Gorean free women. That makes them no less absurd, of course, than when they were heard amongst the women of Earth. In both cases such expressions, and the apparent anxieties, alarms, antipathies, and such often associated with them, were probably used to mask the female’s desperate and deep-seated longing for sexual experience, and such experiences within the modalities of nature, the yielding of the conquered female to the dominant male. One common difference between rape on Earth and rape on Gor is that rape on Earth is usually over with quickly, and is unlikely to be succeeded by social and legal consequences to the enjoyed woman, whereas rape on Gor may prove to be, and often is, a prelude to enslavement.

  If the Gorean male sees a woman, and is interested in her, and desires to have her, truly, he is not likely to be content with the fruits of some brief episode of seizure and transitory subjugation. That would not be enough for him. If that were all, he would probably not even bother. He may, after all, have the girls in the paga taverns, luscious collar sluts or they would not be there, for the price of a drink, unless they are dancers, and then there is a small additional charge. Rather, he looks beyond the moment, and envisages the girl as being truly his, at his feet, at his slave ring, his name on her collar. Perhaps she was haughty or insolent. That would certainly have been foolish of her, would it not? He may have wanted her for a long time. Her rape then is not intended to be a pleasant but ephemeral pleasuring, the seizure of a snack of female, but rather an appetizer, merely the first course in a feast of subdued female, a banquet of conquered woman. At his feet she will have a plenitude of time to regret her possible indiscretions, a plenitude of time to learn her collar. He wants her so much, you see, that he will own her, at least until he tires of her, and will then sell her, or give her away. But perhaps, rather, in time, who knows, they will both find love, he finding it kneeling before him, she in her chains finding it standing before her. But perhaps her haughtiness or insolence was calculated, that is, on some deep level, one not even fully accessible to her conscious mind, calculated to win her rape at his hands, being a way, not fully understood by her, at least at the time, to petition his collar.

  There are many ways a woman can display herself to a man. This is clear even to the free woman. It is certainly clear to the slave girl.

  The rape of a free woman on Gor, however, it must be understood, if one shares a Home Stone with
her, can be a very serious offense, even involving exile; in such a case, it is interesting to note that the woman often chooses to follow the man into exile, even though she must then, in law, in most cities, do so as his slave; the rape of a free woman who does not share a Home Stone with one is, interestingly, if she is not of an allied city, and, in particular, if she is of an enemy city, often greeted as an act of splendid audacity. One of a young tarnsman’s first tasks, and sometimes used as a part of his training, is often the capture of an enemy female, to bring home as a slave. At a feast then he usually displays her to his family and friends. At this feast, in her collar, she will serve and dance. They are all very proud of him. The rape of a slave, on the other hand, as one might expect, is usually regarded as little or nothing. She is, after all, only a slave. At most one might consider according the master, if he seems exercised about the matter, and one wishes to bother, some small token of compensation. Many of the takings of slaves by their own master are, or approximate, rape, incidentally, except, of course, that they not rape in the legal sense, for the slave is rightless and the master possesses all rights to her. In this sense, the expression ‘slave rape’, often applied to many things which a master may do to a slave, and however he wishes, whether, say, with casual disdain or brutal swiftness, or with great ingeniousness, and care, and patience, at his leisure, seldom signifies legal rape. For Ahn she may writhe in her chains, begging and squirming, his. It can be applied to legal rape, of course, in certain contexts, as when a free woman, to her horror, finds herself being treated as a bond maid, even to the extent of being subjected to “slave rape.” After such an experience, it is not only difficult but somewhat unrealistic and absurd for a free woman to attempt to retain her haughtiness, her arrogance and pride. Too, she has then experienced feelings, particular and holistic, which are transformational, overwhelming and rewarding to her. After such an experience not unoften, she begs for bondage. After it she is good only for the collar.

  “Do not some free women speak of it so?” he asked.