by John Norman
“Can you reach the chain on the foot of the bed?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“It is a “Y” chain,” he said. “It has three terminations, each with a ring, now opened. Before you, fixed in the floor, you see a large, heavy ring. Chain yourself to it. This will be done in the following manner. The ring at the bottom of the “Y” is to be closed, and locked, about it. The two rings at the terminations of the arms of the “Y” are to be closed, and locked, about your wrists, snugly. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said.
Tuvo Ausonius listened carefully.
He heard three clicks, first, one click, and then, a little later, one after the other, two more clicks.
“Are you chained helplessly?” he asked.
He heard her pull against the chains. Did he detect some fear in her movements?
“Yes,” she said.
He did not doubt but what this was true, as she would doubtless expect him to check the closures on the three rings, satisfying himself that they were all locked, and that the wrist rings were suitably snug, even tight, upon her wrists.
“May I speak?” she asked.
It interested him that she would request permission to speak. But he supposed that when a woman finds herself as she was, that she might naturally be apprehensive, as to whether or not she may speak. What if it were not desired, at such a time, to hear her speak?
“Certainly,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“I have wondered-” she said.
“Yes?” he said.
“Earlier you suggested that my perfume might be more obvious,” she said.
“It is quite acceptable,” he said. “And it will do very nicely.”
“I wondered what you meant,” she said.
“Only that another perfume might have been even more appropriate for you.”
“I do not understand,” she said.
“That of whore, or slave,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. But her response did not seem angered, or protestive.
“I wonder what it might be like to wear such perfumes,” she said.
“Perhaps you will one day learn,” he said.
“Do not jest,” she said.
Tuvo Ausonius was silent.
“But how such things must excite and arouse a woman,” she said. “How helpless they must make her!”
“I am sure that your perfume might count as such,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
She made a tiny, helpless noise. There was a tiny rustle of chain.
“You are not going to do these things to me, and then still report me to the line, are you?” she asked, frightened.
“Of course not,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“Thank you,” she said.
Besides, thought Tuvo Ausonius, that would not be at all necessary, not now.
She pulled at the chains.
“I am helpless,” she said.
“Yes,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“This is the first time a man has put me in his power,” she said.
“It will not be the last,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“You are going to keep me as mistress?” she asked.
“Scarcely,” said Tuvo Ausonius.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Tuvo Ausonius, being careful not to look at the woman at the foot of the bed, gathered up the articles on the bed, the necklaces, the bracelets, the silk, and such.
“Why do you not look at me?” she said.
He put the articles on the floor, near the table, rather as though they might have been removed there. He then drew back the bedclothes, and rumpled them, in such a way that they appeared to have been naturally displaced, but in such a way, too, that she could not reach them from where she was chained, at the foot of that massive bed, anchored to the floor.
“What are you doing?” she asked, again, pulling at the chains.
“Move back,” he said to her, his eyes on the floor.
She moved back a bit, as she could, until, in a tiny bit, she came to the end of the chain. She was now off the small rug.
Being careful, again, not to look at her, he drew away the small rug and put it back where it had once been, near the table. It was now not far from the discarded adornments and garments, either. Indeed, might someone not have stood on the rug, while removing the adornments and garments, and slipped them to the floor, there, in that place?
Too, he had decided that one such as she did not need the comfort even of the tiny rug.
The chains and the floor were suitable for her.
“Look at me!” she cried. “Look at me!”
But of course Tuvo Ausonius did not do so.
He did look about the dingy, shabby room. He was rather well satisfied with it. It seemed a suitable room for punishing a woman such as she.
He placed a tiny object, metal, on the top of the dresser.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He did not bother to respond to her.
He retrieved his portfolio from the surface of the darkly varnished table.
He turned away.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Wait!” she called.
He paused by the door.
“I am naked, and chained!” she said. “I am helpless! I can reach nothing! Where is the key!”
“It is on the top of the dresser,” he said.
It would be immediately obvious, in that place, to anyone who might enter the room.
“I cannot reach it!” she said.
“No,” he said. “You cannot.”
“Look at me!” she begged.
“No,” he said.
“Release me!” she said.
“You will be released, at least of those particular impediments,” he said, “by the proper authorities.”
“‘Authorities’?” she said.
“In the morning,” he said. “You see I, in order to effect an economy, in order to save the empire money, a predilection appropriate enough in the case of a conscientious official, am in the habit of renting inexpensive quarters. You can imagine my dismay in the morning when I arrive to take occupancy and find the room occupied, as it is.”
“I do not understand,” she moaned.
“One of your customers, it seems, left you as you are.”
“‘Customers,’ “she said, startled.
“What was your name, again?” he asked. “It has slipped my mind.”
“Sesella,” she said. “Sesella Gardener!”
“Doubtless the first thing the authorities will request to see is your license.”
“I do not understand,” she said.
“On this world,” he said, “it is against the law to practice prostitution without a license.”
“I am not a prostitute!” she said.
“But only now have you been caught,” he said.
“I am not a prostitute!” she said.
“How long has it been going on?” he asked.
“I am not a prostitute!” she cried.
“And the penalties for such are not light,” he said.
“What are they?” she said.
“In the future,” he said, “you need not concern yourself about your perfumes. They will be decided for you, or you must submit them for approval to others.”
“No,” she cried. “No!”
But Tuvo Ausonius had left, closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER 16
“Please,” she said, hurrying forward, and kneeling.
It was dawn, outside the summer palace. Otto and Julian had spent the night in the palace.
“I will do my best to further your business,” Iaachus had assured Julian, once again, even as they had left the inner gate, but moment, ago.
“Do you think he will do so?” had asked Otto.
“I do not know,” had said Julian. “It is hard to read Iaachus.”
“I think he fears you,” said Otto.
“
Why?” asked Julian.
“Your blood, your lineage, your station,” said Otto.
“Perhaps,” said Julian.
It was scarcely light when Julian and Otto left the palace, now no longer in the company of guards, though, doubtless, they would be watched, as they took their way across the great plaza, in the center of which rose the domes and spires of the palace.
In an inner courtyard, as they had made their way across the damp flagstones, Julian had pointed upward, to a window, and then to another. They were dark now.
“Those are the quarters of the princess Viviana,” he said, “and those of the princess Alacida.”
A slave girl, carrying a two-handled vessel of water, knelt down, on the damp stones, and put her head down.
It was hard even to detect the color of her hair in the light.
She lifted her head, after they had passed, to look after them.
“Did you see the curtain move, in the window of the princess Viviana, and a shadow in that of the princess Alacida?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“It seems they are watching,” said Julian.
“What for?” asked Otto.
“Who knows?” said Julian.
Otto had speculated, idly, how such windows might be reached, perhaps from the roof.
It might be a coup, he thought, to steal a princess.
He wondered if Viviana, or Alacida, or both, would make a good slave girl.
Shortly thereafter they were outside the palace.
They had seen a small figure in the vicinity of one of the fountains rise up, when they had exited the palace. The figure was scarcely detectable in the light, and had almost been lost against the marble of the fountain.
Doubtless it was no more than some pathetic vagrant.
“See?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” had said Otto.
“Beware,” had said Julian.
“I see it,” had said Otto.
It had hurried forward.
Now it knelt before them, some yards from the outer gate.
“I have been waiting for you, all night,” she said. “They would not let me wait by the gate, close to it, like a dog, as I wished. They would not let me.”
“Surely we know you,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Otto, looking down on the figure.
“Who are you?” asked Julian.
“One who became yesterday a devotee of Dira,” she said.
“The goddess of slave girls,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“Who are you?” demanded Julian.
“Renata Alerina Gina Ameliana,” she said.
“Of the Amelianii?” said Julian.
“Yes,” she said.
This, then, was no pathetic vagrant, despite how small she seemed, how piteous, how pleading, how humble, kneeling there before them in the half darkness, on the damp stones, clutching about herself some shreds of embroidered leel, doubtless once fine stuff, but torn now, ripped from the collar downward, and damp and soiled, from the night spent in the open, spent waiting, on the stones of the plaza.
“You are a lady,” said Julian.
“As much as I may be now,” she said.
“You are rich,” he said.
“There is wealth in my family,” she said. “But such things are meaningless to me now.”
“Your family are gold merchants,” said Julian. He did not say this approvingly. Like many of the high aristocracy he had a contempt for business and trade.
“Since yesterday iron and leather mean more to me,” she said.
“I do not understand,” said Julian.
“I have looked into the eyes of a master,” she said. “And now I know that I can only be happy in obedience, and in selfless love and service.”
“I do not understand,” said Julian.
“I now know that I can only be fully happy as a total slave.”
Julian looked down at her.
“I have learned myself,” she said. “I have looked into the eyes of a master. I am now a devotee of Dira.”
She then put her head down, to the feet of Otto, and kissed them.
“I would be yours,” she said.
“Do you understand what you are saying?” asked Julian.
She lifted her eyes to those of Otto.
Would he permit her to straighten her body, to kneel upright before him?
He did so.
“You do not understand what you are doing,” said Julian to the kneeling figure.
“Shall I open my robes?” she asked Otto.
“No,” said Otto.
“The collar,” said Julian, angrily, “is for thieves, debtors, criminals, barbarians.”
“No,” she said.
“It is for low women,” he said.
“No,” she said. “It is for women.”
“It is for those women who are unfortunate enough to find themselves put in it.”
“No,” she said.
“Women live in terror of the collar!”
“I do not,” she said.
“It is for those women who deserve it,” he said, “those for whom it is appropriate!”
“And for what woman is it not appropriate?” she asked.
“You beg the collar?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at Otto. “I beg the collar!”
“Have you considered,” asked Otto, “what it might be, to be done with as masters please, to be bought and sold?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You are crying,” said Julian to her.
“Do you think you would have but one master?” asked Otto.
“I would expect, over time,” she said, “to have many masters. I would try to serve them well.”
“Doubtless, at times,” said Otto, “you would regret your decision, and find yourself terrified.”
“Yes,” she said, “and I would know myself helpless.”
This was she, or course, whom we had met the preceding day, she of the embroidered leel, who, having angered Otto, had been cuffed, who had had the leel torn down, to her hips, who had been forced, her hands held, to kneel down before him, as though she, though a fashionably dressed free woman, might be no more than a slave.
“You would belong to him?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” she said.
“Perhaps I would use you to breed slaves,” said Otto.
“Then that would be the will of my master,” she said.
“Perhaps I could try you out, and see how you are,” said Otto.
“I am untrained!” she said.
“You seem intelligent,” said Otto. “Perhaps you could learn.”
“I would apply myself with the greatest diligence!” she said.
Otto turned away from her and he, and Julian, walked a few paces, toward the edge of the plaza.
Behind them they heard a sob, and, turning, they saw the small figure, forlorn, behind them, still kneeling.
“If you wish,” said Otto, “you may follow me.”
With a cry of joy she sprang to her feet and, clutching the torn leel about her, hurried after them.
“Perhaps, on the way,” said Otto, “we might pass a slaver’s house.”
“There are some,” said Julian. “Papers could be prepared, the proper signatures affixed, and such.”
Julian turned to the woman, who was following them, a few paces behind, to the left.
“You understand,” he said, “that once such a thing is done, it is done?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You could even be purchased to serve in your own house,” he said, “and would be there then no more than any other slave.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I think the whole thing, though impeccably legal, is best handled quickly and quietly,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Otto. “I think that that would be best for her.”
“You are concerned with her?”
&
nbsp; “Certainly,” said Otto. “She is a free woman.”
“But later?”
“Then such things would not matter,” said Otto. “Then she would be only a slave.”
They continued on their way.
“What are your plans?” asked Otto.
“I am going to return to one of my family’s villas,” said Julian, “and there await word with respect to your commission.”
“The matter is being deliberated?” asked Otto.
“I suppose so,” said Julian.
“When will we hear?” asked Otto.
“I do not know when, or if, we will hear,” said Julian.
“You have enemies in the palace?” asked Otto.
“It would seem so,” said Julian.
“Iaachus?” asked Otto.
“Perhaps,” said Julian.
“The royal family?” asked Otto.
“I think that is quite likely,” said Julian.
“They fear you?”
“I think so,” said Julian.
“Are their fears justified?” asked Otto.
Julian turned about, and addressed the woman at their heels. “Lag back,” he said.
She slowed her pace until there were several feet between her and the pair she followed.
“Yes,” said Julian, irritably, to Otto.
Otto then turned about, and motioned that the woman should join them. When she did so, Otto put her before them, and they followed her, one on each side, she in the place of honor, a free woman.
“I do not think I should be here, before you,” she whispered.
“You are a free woman,” said Otto. “It is the place of honor. Precede us.”
“You might even remember, afterwards, if you care to,” said Julian, “how you were once such that you preceded free men.”
“I do not know where to go, where to turn,” she said.
“I will direct you,” said Julian.
She turned about.
They continued on their way. They kept to better streets. Afterward they could return to the port, more conveniently, through a poorer district.
“Turn right, here,” said Julian.
CHAPTER 17
“Send the slave, Flora, forward,” said the connoisseur.
The girl, whose house name was Flora, hurried forward, to kneel on the tiles before the connoisseur, her head down, to the tiles, the palms of her hands upon them, performing obeisance.
Following her forward were two leather-clad men, one on each side of her, who took their station on each side of her, and a little to the back. These were the keeper, or warder, of her corridor, and one of the trainers, to whose lot she had been assigned.
