"Yes, 'Master'!" she cried. "As a slave I must address all free men as 'Master.'"
"You are not a slave," said Mahpiyasapa. "You are a free woman."
"No, Master!" she cried. "I am a slave! I am a slave! I pronounce myself a slave! I have been a slave for years, a secret slave. I now confess my deception, acknowledging that I am, and have been, a slave, only a slave, for years! Forgive me, Masters!"
"Look at her knees!" said a man.
The girl looked down, startled. Her knees, without her even having thought of it, widely spread, were in slave position. It had been done inadvertently, unpremeditatively, naturally, unconsciously. Such things can betray a woman. But she did not, then, draw her knees together. She remained, agonized, frightened, in the shameful position.
"Slave!" cried more than one man, scornfully.
"Are you a white female?" inquired a man.
"We are all sisters," she said. "I am no more than they."
"You have pronounced yourself a slave," said Mahpiyasapa, wonderingly.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Now," said Mahpiyasapa, "you are a slave, even if you were not before."
"Yes, Master," she said.
"What is your name?" asked Mahpiyasapa.
"I have no name," she said.
"This being a slave," said Mahpiyasapa to the members of the council, standing about him, "clearly it is not fitting that she be subjected to the honorable death of a free woman."
The members of the council nodded their agreement.
"Later, shameless slave," said Mahpiyasapa to she who had been Bloketu, "you who had the insolence, the punishable audacity, to pretend to be a free woman, it will be decided what is to be done with you."
The slave, trembling, put down her head.
"This one, at least," said Hci, seizing Iwoso from behind by the arms, "is a free woman."
"Then," said Mahpiyasapa, angrily, "let the sentence, as passed, be carried out in her case!"
"No!" cried Iwoso, helpless as a doll in Hci's merciless grip. "I beg permission to kneel!"
Hci looked at Mahpiyasapa. Then he let Iwoso fall to her knees. She was weeping. "I, too, am a slave," she wept. "I, too, am a slave!"
She threw her soft body to the rock at Mahpiyasapa's feet. Lying on her belly before him, her hands bound behind her back, her ankles thonged, she pressed her lips, again and again, helplessly, to his moccasins, covering them with kisses. "I, too, am a slave!" she wept.
"On your knees," he sternly ordered her.
She struggled up to her knees. She noticed, startled, that her knees were spread widely. But then, no more than the other girl, did she close them.
"Speak!" ordered Mahpiyasapa.
"I pronounce myself slave," she said. "I, too, I confess, have been a secret slave, one masquerading for years as a free woman!"
"Is this true?" asked Mahpiyasapa.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"She lies merely to avoid the rocks," said a man, sneeringly.
"She may think she is lying," said Mahpiyasapa, "but recourse to such a lie would be had only by one who is truly a slave."
"That is true," said the man, musingly.
"In any event," said a man, "she has now pronounced herself a slave."
"Yes," said another man.
"You understand, do you not," asked Mahpiyasapa of the girl, "that the words alone were sufficient, that in speaking them you became a slave, even if you were not a slave before?"
"Yes, Master," she said. Matters such as intention, as I have earlier indicated, are in such cases irrelevant to the legal enactments involved.
"What is your name?" asked Mahpiyasapa.
"I have no name," she said.
"These women are slaves," said Mahpiyasapa, turning to the council. "No longer is it fitting that they be subjected to the honorable death of free women."
The council grunted its agreement.
"The sentence then," said Mahpiyasapa, "is rescinded."
The girls looked up at him, elated.
"Now give them to the women," said a man.
"They will be pleased to get them," said another.
"That should have been done in the first place," said another.
"Please, no," begged she who had been Bloketu.
"As slaves," said Mahpiyasapa to the girls, "you may now be subjected to lengthy and insidious tortures, and not even necessarily for crimes, at so little as the whim of a master."
The girls looked at him, trembling, their eyes wide with terror.
"Give them to the women," laughed a man.
"Take us as slaves," begged she who had been Bloketu.
"Please, Masters!" wept she who had once been the proud Iwoso.
"I do not accept you as slaves of the Kaiila," said Mahpiyasapa.
The girls shuddered, rejected.
"Is there any here," asked Mahpiyasapa, "who would accept these slaves?"
No one spoke.
"Give them to the women," said a man.
"Give them to the women!" cried several of the men.
"Please, Master," cried she who had been Bloketu, suddenly, turning and throwing herself to her shoulder, and then to her belly, before Cuwignaka. She kissed his moccasins fervently, lying bound on her belly before him. "Please, Master," she begged, weeping, "please accept me as a slave!"
Iwoso threw herself on her belly, on the rock, before Hci. "I am a slave!" she wept. "Please, Master, do not let them give me to the women!" Her tears flowed copiously, staining the rock and his moccasins. Her body trembled. Her small wrists moved helplessly behind her, confined in their tight thongs. Her lips pressed again and again to his moccasins, covering them with pleading, desperate kisses. "I beg you, Master!" she wept. "Please, please accept me as a slave!"
He crouched down, and turned her to her side, that she might look up at him. "You said you would rather die than be my slave," he said.
"I lied," she said. "I lied! I am a slave! You may punish me for such things!"
"I often wondered," said Hci, "if you might not have been a slave."
"You see now it is true, Master!" she said.
He regarded her.
"But not only am I a slave," she said. "I am your slave!"
"My slave?" he asked.
"For years," she said, "I have known that I was your slave. Surely, too, you, when you looked upon me, must have known that you were my master!"
Hci said nothing.
"These things were confirmed at the post," she said, "when you taught me my sex, and your power!"
Hci regarded her, not speaking. His face was expressionless.
"I ask only," she said, "the opportunity to prove to you that I am worthy of being owned."
He stood up, his arms folded. He was lean and strong, in the breechclout.
"Give them to the women!" cried a man.
"Give them to the women!" cried men.
"No," said Cuwignaka.
The men were suddenly silent, startled.
"I accept this woman," he said, indicating she who had been Bloketu, "as my slave."
She who had been Bloketu laid her cheek on the rock beside his moccasins, shuddering.
"Give that one to the women!" cried a man, indicating she who had been Iwoso.
"No," said Hci, his arms folded, surveying the men. "She is my slave."
"So be it," said Mahpiyasapa. "The matter is done." He, then, and the others, began to disperse.
Iwoso lay shuddering at Hci's feet, helpless.
"You are Cespu," said Cuwignaka to she who had been Bloketu.
"Yes, my master," she said. In Kaiila, the word 'cespu' means "wart."
"You are Cesli," said Hci to she who had been Iwoso.
"Yes, my master," she said, named. The word 'cesli' in Kaiila means "dung," that of either men or animals. Among the Kaiila such names as Cespu and Cesli are not uncommon for slaves.
I looked about. Cuwignaka and Cespu, and Hci and Cesli, and I, were alone at the trail
summit. I decided that perhaps it was time to take my leave, as well.
Cuwignaka, gently, was untying the ankles of Cespu.
"A slave begs a boon," said Cesli to Hci.
"Yes?" asked Hci.
"Please untie my ankles, Master," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"That I may serve my master," she said.
I withdrew from the summit of the trail and, in a few moments, stood high on the escarpment, looking over the plains. The horizons in the Barrens are vast and beautiful.
I looked down, once again, to where the barricade had been previously placed. There, near the trail's summit, about a hundred feet to my right and a few feet below me, on the ascendant, sloping, exposed surface of the trail, the cliff on one side, the wall on the other, slaves were in the arms of their masters.
I looked again then on the breadth of the Barrens, surveying them from the height of Council Rock, returning thereafter to my lodge.
51
The Fleer Bring a Visitor to Camp
"They found it on the prairie," said a man, "the Fleer did. They have brought it here."
Two stout ropes were on its neck, each slung to the saddle of a kaiila, on its opposite sides. Men with lances rode behind it. The creature was weak, and had been much bled. Its upper body was almost covered with ropes, binding its arms tightly to its sides. A heavy branch, about eighteen inches long and three inches thick, had been thrust between its jaws, and its jaws tied shut about it. The claws had been torn out of its feet.
"What is it?" asked a man.
"It is one like those who were with the Yellow Knives," said a man, "those defeated on the trail."
This was the Kur I had come to think of as the eighth Kur. It had been apparently separated from its companions at the time of the massacre of the wagon train and the fight between the soldiers and the savages. I had met it once before, when it had returned to the field to feed. It was that Kur which had been threatening the Waniyanpi, and whose attack I had frustrated. As we had not been similarly armed, it alone, afoot, and I with Grunt, he with an armed crossbow, and as it had not rushed upon me, I had not contested its withdrawal from the field. Such had seemed in accordance with codes to which I had once subscribed, codes which I had never forgotten. I had later learned from he who was then Pumpkin, then one of the Waniyanpi, that nine bodies of beasts had been found on the field. These had not been buried but had been dragged away, into the fields, by the red savages. Thus I had been unable at that time to determine whether or not Kog and Sardak had been among the Kur survivors of the attack. There had been seventeen wagons with the mercenary column which I had conjectured had contained one Kur apiece, given the irritability and territoriality of such beasts. Subtracting the nine beasts which had been slain in the fighting, probably mostly by Fleer, who seemed to have less apprehension concerning their appearance than several of the other tribes, I had arrived at a probable figure of eight Kur survivors.
When Cuwignaka and I had spied on the victory celebration of the Yellow Knives and soldiers at the summer camp we had counted only seven Kurii there, including Kog and Sardak. The eighth Kur, then, as I thought of him, seemed clearly to have been separated from his fellows. I had conjectured that he had perhaps perished on the prairie. Now, however, he had apparently been taken by Fleer, and within the general vicinity. This was, I suspected, no accident. He had probably been following the warriors, conjecturing perhaps that the movements of such large numbers of men might have to do, in one way or another, with the projects of his peers, with whom, doubtless, he had hoped to resume contact.
"What shall we do with him?" asked a man. "The Fleer do not want him. Too, some Fleer are uneasy concerning the killing of such a creature."
"Tell them," I said, "to take him to the lodge of the dark guest."
The man then turned to the Fleer. He pointed to the Kur, and then, with a sweeping gesture, indicated a direction. He then crossed the index fingers of his right and left hand, like lodge poles. He then lifted his head and opened his mouth, as though baring fangs, and lifted at the same time his right hand, the fingers crooked like claws, in a threatening gesture.
The Fleer in charge of the captive nodded and, with a movement of his hand, indicated that his companions, the Kur in their charge, should follow him.
My eyes and those of the Kur met. He, too, I think, recalled our previous encounter.
He was then, shuffling in the dust with bloody feet, from which the claws had been extracted, bound helplessly, dragged on ropes and prodded with the butts of lances, conducted toward the lodge of Zarendargar.
52
A Boon
"Take up your sword, I beg you," said Alfred. He had already seized up his sword from the low, flat rock in the midst of the encircling savages, Kaiila, Dust Legs, Fleer and Sleen. I looked at the sword, lying on the rock. I had little taste for what must be done.
"I do not think you are my match," I told him.
"If you do not," he said, "they will strip me, and put bells on me, and run me for boys on kaiila, as sport for their lances!"
Of the soldiers there had been only five survivors from the fray, Alfred, and four of his officers. Only the four officers had been permitted to draw lots. Of these three would be run for the boys, in the grasses, stripped and belled for lance sport. The other would be returned west of the Ihanke, that an account might be rendered of what had occurred in the Barrens.
"Please!" begged Alfred.
"They respect you as a commander," I said, "else they would not permit you this option."
"Please," he said.
I did not wish to see Alfred, belled as though he might be a slave girl, running, cut and bleeding under the lances. Circles are painted on the body. Points are scored. The least vulnerable areas, of course, are the first targets. The boys can make such a game last as long as an Ahn.
"You are of the Warriors, are you not?" asked Alfred.
"Yes," I said. My collar had been removed yesterday. I was now free.
"Please," he said.
I took up the sword from the flat rock.
It was soon finished.
I had then wiped the blade.
53
The Red-Haired Slave Girl
The naked, large-bosomed, red-haired slave licked and kissed at me and then, when I wished, unable to help herself, cried out her yielding to me.
She was still muchly covered with mud and had been somewhat beaten.
I had acquired her as a portion of my share of the loot from the Yellow Knives.
It seemed that when she had come to my lodge she had thought that her life with me, I being white, might be easier than it would be with a red master.
She had then spent the night outside the lodge, naked, in the rain, her hands tied behind her back, her neck tied to a stake.
She lay beneath me in the mud. I had freed her hands, but her neck was still fastened to the stake.
"Master," she gasped. "Master!"
I contented her for a bit, and then stood up. She looked up at me, helplessly.
"Master!" she whispered.
"Cespu, Mira!" I called. The girls came running, summoned slaves.
I indicated the large-bosomed redhead at my feet.
"Free her of the stake," I said, "and then clean and comb her. Make her sparkle."
"Yes, Master," said Mira.
"Then take her to Grunt, as a present," I said. "He will know what to do with her."
"Yes, Master," said Cespu.
"Yes, Master," said Mira.
54
I Return to my Lodge
"'Where is this one called Cuwignaka?'" translated the young, light-skinned, muscular fellow.
The warrior who had spoken was Fleer. This could be told at a glance from the hair, which was worn in a high, combed-back pompadour. He carried a feathered lance, with a long iron point, a trade point, socketed, fastened to the lance shaft with two rivets. His kaiila had a notched right ear. It bore various coup ma
rks and exploit markings. Among these, on the flanks, on each flank, there was a society marking, a flat black line, a semicircular, curved blue line above it, the line of the earth, the overarching blue dome of the sky above it. He was a member of the Blue-Sky Riders. Grunt and I had seen him once before, long ago, in the vicinity of the field of a massacre, where a wagon train had been destroyed. Only recently had we learned that he was a war chief of the Fleer.
"I am Cuwignaka," said Cuwignaka, stepping forward. He now wore a breechclout. Yet, still, the shreds of the white dress clung about his upper body. Cuwignaka's words were translated by the light-skinned, muscular lad.
"I had thought," Grunt had told me yesterday, "that I was dead, but I discovered that I was not dead. I had a son, among the Dust Legs."
Grunt had found the lad in visiting the Dust Legs after the massacre of the summer camp. It had been largely through Grunt's influence that Dust Legs had made the long journey to Council Rock, to aid the Kaiila. The lad's mother, long ago, had loved Grunt. It was said she still lived. The lad had something of Grunt's facility with languages and his father's shrewdness and good sense in trading. He had been one of the few Dust Legs who was permitted in Fleer encampments, and had lived with them. He, originally conversing in sign, had subsequently learned their language.
Dust Leg and Kaiila, as I have earlier indicated, are closely related languages. Kaiila is commonly, interestingly, regarded as a dialectical version of Dust Leg. Dust Leg and Fleer are also related, but much more distantly. Commonly Dust Legs and Fleer, when they meet in peace, communicate in the lingua franca of the plains, sign. The lad, it was said, had children of his own.
The lad and Grunt had decided to go into partnership, this being thought to be to the advantage of both. Grunt could speak Gorean and the lad was fluent not only in Dust Leg and Kaiila, but Fleer as well. I had little doubt they would become famous on the plains. This winter, instead of returning west of the Ihanke, Grunt had told me that he planned to winter with the Dust Legs. There was a woman there, for whom he had once cared. He was eager to see her again. It seemed she had not forgotten him.
The Fleer warrior regarded Cuwignaka. His kaiila moved under him, restless with its energy.
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