The Chieftain

by John Norman

  “Yes, what of you?” he asked.

  “Keep me!” she begged.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I would be your slave!” she wept.

  “It is my intention,” he said, “to put my disk on your neck, at least for a time.”

  She tried to move toward him a little, but could not do so. He looked down upon her.

  “Do I have a name?” she asked.

  “No,” he said.

  “Master!” she wept, but he had turned away.

  There were the sounds of much feasting.

  She watched the brazier, glowing in the shadows, as though it might be filled with jewels of fire.

  ***

  Astubux sat on the dais, a drinking horn in hand, and the chieftain had returned to his place there.

  “My chieftain,” said Astubux.

  “Yes,” said Otto.

  “What of the prisoner?”

  “His taking has muchly pleased me,” said Otto, moodily.

  “You can add him to your plans?” asked Astubux.

  “His presence here considerably increases their probability of success,” said Otto.

  “Which, I gather, is slight at best,” said Astubux, glumly.

  “Drink, feast,” encouraged Otto.

  “And the slaves?”

  “I am thinking that two of them may figure in my plans, but only in a small way, as is fitting, as they are females, and slaves.”

  “Axel has the one who was called ‘Oona,’ ” said Astubux.

  “Does it concern you that we have given her to Axel, who is one of my advisors.”

  “Am I not, too, a counselor of my chieftain?” asked Astubux.

  “You looked closely upon the blonde, whose name was ‘Ellen,’ ” said Otto.

  “What man would not?”

  “Would you like her, to tend your hut?” asked Otto.

  “Yes!” said Astubux, turning about.

  “She would probably know little about tending a hut,” said Otto.

  “I could teach her quickly enough with the knout,” said Astubux.

  “I am thinking of giving her to you in a few days,” said Otto.

  “My chieftain!” said Astubux.

  “You would like her?” asked Otto, smiling.

  “Yes!” said Astubux.

  “She is only a slave,” said Otto.

  “No matter!” said Astubux.

  “Your disk will be on her neck,” said Otto. “But wait some days.”

  “Yes, my chieftain,” said Astubux.

  “More drink,” called Otto.

  “What of the other one, the young brunette,” asked Astubux.

  “I will, for the time, put my own disk on her neck,” said Otto.

  “And what then?” asked Astubux.

  “I do not know what I will do with her,” said Otto.

  “You seem angry, my chieftain,” said Astubux.

  “She is a worthless slave,” said Otto.

  “But surely a pretty one.”

  “Yes,” said Otto, angrily.

  “She would fetch a good price,” said Astubux.

  “Perhaps I will sell her,” said Otto.

  Then Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs, put back his head and drank, and so, too, did Astubux, one of his counselors.

  Shortly thereafter there was a cry of pain. A few minutes later there was a second cry, much like the first. Then, a few minutes after that, there was a third cry, it quite like the first two.

  “The slaves have been marked,” said Astubux.

  “Yes,” said Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs.

  ***

  A nameless brunette, a slave in a primitive village on a remote world, was thrust into her master’s hut, before him. She fell to the rush-strewn floor before his seat. It was a large hut, with posts here and there supporting the roof. There was a fire in the firepit.

  He sat then in the chair, and she looked up at him, from the floor.

  “Put more wood on the fire,” he said.

  She found wood at the side of the hut.

  “Enough,” he said.

  “Kneel here,” he said, indicating a place before his chair.

  She complied.

  She put her hands on her thighs, but kept her knees closely together.

  He looked down upon her, moodily, angrily.

  She pressed her knees even more closely together.

  He did not speak.

  “I have been marked!” she said, suddenly.

  “Put your knees apart,” he said.

  The slave did so, feeling strange sensations.

  On her neck, tied there, on a leather string, there was a leather disk.

  A similar disk was on the neck of the blonde, but she had been put in a cage.

  A disk, too, had been tied on the neck of the woman put under claim by Axel. She had understood that that was Axel’s disk, marking her as his. He had then tied her hands together, with a leather strap, before her body, and then, with one strand of the strap, extending from her wrists, had led her to his hut. She had followed timidly, but had not held back. “Are you not frightened to belong to such a man?” the brunette had asked her, when the women, after their marking, had been crouching together.

  “Better to be owned for an hour by such a man,” she had said, “than to live a lifetime with a weakling.”

  Then she had been pulled to her feet, and Axel had put his disk on her neck. Then he had bound her hands before her.

  “Do not forget,” had said the chieftain, “that she was tardy, earlier, in responding to a command.”

  “I shall not, my chieftain,” had grinned Axel.

  The brunette had then shuddered, for she recalled that the woman was to be punished for her laxity. She doubted that the woman would fail to profit from the lesson. Indeed, from even the thought of this lesson she and the blonde had already profited, having learned that these were not men such as they had hitherto known, that these were not men to be trifled with.

  Axel had then led the woman to his hut.

  Shortly thereafter they had heard the lash. Axel was sharp with her, but short. Axel, she gathered, was fond of the woman. He had wanted to do little more than let her know what the lash was like, and that it would be used upon her if she were not pleasing. Axel would be kind to the woman, but not lenient. She would not forget that she was a slave. She would be kept under perfect discipline.

  The chieftain had then had the two young women stand, and, from behind, he had tied the string about their necks, and each, then, was tagged with his disk.

  She wore it now, before him, but dared not touch it.

  She had been elated when the chieftain had had Janina conduct the blonde to a cage, and lock her therein. But then she had been terrified, when he had taken her by the arm, and thrust her toward his hut. She was within it now. They were alone. Janina was not present. She had been told to go to a certain hut. It was the hut where the three slaves had been kept, before being brought forth at the feast. Janina had not been pleased to go there. The brunette had smiled. She would have cause to regret that later. But, to be sure, the brunette was also apprehensive. She had never been alone with a man before, certainly not like this, not a slave with her master.

  “You are a long way from the court now,” said Otto.

  She looked up.

  “And from the arena,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  Somewhere outside, beyond the palisade, there was a frightful roar, as of some great carnivorous beast.

  She trembled.

  “It is a forest lion,” he said.

  “You treated me with insolence and cruelty,” he said. “In the arena you had me bound. On the ship you attempted to embroil me in difficulties with Pulendius.”

  Once again there was the roar from outside the palisade.

  “Do you wish to be put outside?” he asked.

  “No, Master!” she said.

  “One such as you,” he said, “should no
t be fed to lions, but thrown bound to filchen .”

  The filch was a tiny, rodentlike creature. They were omnivorous. In certain seasons they tended to run in packs, swarming over the ground like insects.

  “Please, no, Master,” she said.

  “You are low, and petty,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “You look well where you are, kneeling naked before a man,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “It is where you belong,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “I hold you in utter contempt,” he said.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “I had thought, once,” said he, “you might have the makings of a worthy slave.”

  “I do not understand,” she said.

  She watched him draw forth a leather strap. “Lift your hands, wrists crossed,” he said.

  She watched while her wrists were bound together. A loose end of the same strap extended from her wrists, leashlike, as it had from the wrists of Axel’s slave.

  She was then pulled, on her knees, to one of the posts, and her wrists were tied to the post.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “You are frigid, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “I do not know, Master,” she said.

  “The lash,” said he, “informs a woman that frigidity is not acceptable.”

  “I do not think I am frigid, Master!” she said.

  “Oh?” he asked.

  “Try me,” she said, looking back, over her shoulder.

  “Try you?” said the chieftain, amused.

  “Yes!” she said. “I have strange feelings! I have never felt them before, not like this, not with such intensity. I do not think I am frigid! I want to be in my master’s arms!”

  “You,” he asked, amused, “once an officer of a court, a woman of Terennia, ask to be taken in a master’s arms?”

  Suddenly, helplessly, astonished, squirming, she pressed herself against the post.

  “Yes,” she begged. “Yes!”

  “Surely,” said he, “you do not think I have put you at the post merely to lash the ice away from your body?”

  “Am I to be whipped?” she asked. “Why?”

  “You were a slave by law when you submitted to me in the darkness, on the Alaria ,” he said. “But I did not enforce your bondage. I continued to respect you, according you honors appropriate to a free woman, to one of the honestori , even to one of the blood, and, as such, or as though you might still have been such, I did not gag you, for I had been given your promise that you would remain silent. But you lied to me. I accepted your word, and was betrayed. You cried out. You brought guards down upon us. We might have all been killed. You were a treacherous, lying slave.”

  “Master!” she protested.

  “You could have been slain, as a lying slave!” he said.

  She looked back at him, in agony.

  “I learned then,” he said, “that you were worthless, that you were meaningless, the least of slaves, the most contemptible of slaves!”

  “Not the whip!” she wept.

  “Be punished, worthless bitch!” he cried.

  But he struck her only a few times. Then he threw down the whip, in fury.

  Then he untied her from the post and she slipped down, beside it.

  He returned to his seat, and sat there, moodily, angrily.

  She lay crumpled, her legs drawn up, near the post to which she had been fastened.

  She could not believe what had been done to her.

  She had never felt a blow, until the abuse of the free women, when they had scoured her in the wooden tub, that her body might be fit to be branded. Now she lay at the post, on the rushes, a whipped slave.

  “I have been punished, have I not, Master?” she asked.

  “Your punishment,” he said, “has not even begun.”

  She rose to her hands and knees, and crawled to him, and then lay before him. She put his foot upon her head.

  “The slave begs the forgiveness of her master,” she said.

  He pulled his foot back, angrily.

  “I ask only the opportunity to please you,” she said.

  He did not respond.

  “Surely my body is not without interest,” she said.

  She said this for she thought, the naive little fool that she was, that this would be what would be of most importance to him, a particular configuration, and not the delicious, sensitive wholeness of her, the total female and slave. She knew herself, of course, that the true depth of her bondage lay in her heart and belly, in her thoughts, in her devotion, in her heat, in her love, in her desire to serve selflessly, abandoning herself to the master, surrendering herself wholly to him, his slave, his to do with as he pleased. That her body might be beautiful, or exciting, or of interest, was a joy to her, surely, and, too, one for which she was grateful, for it helped her to express the inwardness of her bondage, of her love, for you see, from the first moment she had looked upon the titanic, fiery youth on Terennia, she had wanted him to want her, to care for her, to be attentive to her, to place her uncompromisingly in his chains, to own her, and fulfill her.

  “Let me serve you,” she said.

  “What does a woman of Terennia know of serving a man?” he asked.

  “Teach me,” she begged.

  “A taste of the whip, and you are ready to learn,” he said, angrily.

  She put her head down.

  “Do you think I have brought you here to serve me?” he asked.

  “Master?” she asked, raising her head.

  “I brought you here only to denounce you, and chastise you,” he said.

  “Let me prove to you that I am truly what you think me to be,” she said.

  “And what is that?” he asked.

  “A slave, Master,” she said.

  “And what sort of slave?” he asked.

  “A loving slave who would serve you with every bit of herself, with her whole body, her whole heart, with all that she is, and ever hopes to be!”

  “Clever slave,” he sneered.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “Lying slave!” he cried.

  He cuffed her.

  She struggled to her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at him and felt, suddenly, a wave of fear, and hatred, and misery, and desire, and helplessness.

  “I have strange feelings!” she wept. “I cannot help myself! Treat me then, if you wish, as a hated, despised woman. Abuse me! Are you dissatisfied with me? Have I displeased you? Make me pay! Make me pay well! Ravish me. Subdue me. Teach me I am a woman. Leave me in no doubt as to the matter. Make me beg for more. But attend to me! Do not ignore me!”

  “And what are these feelings?” he asked.

  “I think—I think that I am in—in heat, Master,” she said.

  “Yes,” he sneered. “Even a woman such as you, one so vain, so petty, so meaningless, so contemptible, with a disk on her neck, will find herself in heat!”

  But then once again her helplessness, her vulnerability, her love, overcame her. “I am yours, totally, Master,” she said. “Please be kind to me, my master,” she begged.

  He rose from the chair and went to the portal of the hut. “Janina!” he called. “Janina!”

  In a few moments, summoned, Janina appeared at the portal.

  He indicated the brunette, now on her hands and knees, on the rushes, before the chieftain’s chair.

  “Get this slut from my sight!” he said. “Cage her!”

  Janina rushed to a side of the hut and seized up a switch and ran to the brunette. She lashed down at her with the switch, and the brunette cried out in misery. “Get out! Get out!” said Janina.

  The brunette fled from the hut, switched.

  “That way!” said Janina. “There! Down on all fours!”

  “Yes, Mistress!” wept the brunette.

  “Get in it!” said Janina.

  A str
oke of the switch hastened the entry of the brunette into the heavy but tiny cage. She turned about, on her knees, within, to see the door flung shut and the two padlocks, heavy, flung on the hasps, over the staples, and snapped shut.

  The brunette, kneeling, clutched the bars, looking up at Janina.

  “Earlier you smiled at me, when you thought to be alone with the master,” said Janina, angrily. “Now I smile at you!”

  “Forgive me, Mistress!” said the brunette.

  “Janina!” called the chieftain, and the slave ran to him.

  In her cage the brunette lay down. It was cold. She wept.

  …CHAPTER 20…

  At the rude table in the chieftain’s hut sat four men, Otto, the chieftain, his principal advisors, wily, cynical, pessimistic, Astubux and stalwart, sage Axel, and the ensign, Julian, he of the Aurelianii.

  In the back of the hut a blond girl, who had once been a salesgirl on the Alaria , and whose name was ‘Ellen,’ that name now having been put upon her as a slave name, and another slave, one as yet unnamed, a brunette, knelt before their first girl, who was standing, whose name was Janina. Another slave, the only other slave in the village, was in the hut of Axel, lying naked on the furs, as she had been ordered, awaiting the return of her master. Her name was ‘Oona,’ that name having been put on her as a slave name.

  “The meal is prepared,” said Janina. “It is now time to serve it.”

  “We know nothing of pleasing men,” said Ellen to Janina.

  “Please teach us, Mistress,” said the brunette.

  “The main thing is to be the slaves you are,” said Janina to the two young women.

  “Bring food,” said the chieftain.

  “Yes, Master,” responded Janina.

  Janina was in the modest garb of the Wolfung woman, with its long sleeves, its high neck, and its long skirt, down about her ankles. Her two charges, however, the blonde and the brunette, were in improvised kebs , that form of garment in which Janina herself had been exhibited at the stake, during the contest on the Alaria .

  “Put forth the trenchers,” said Janina.

  Her two charges rose up and, each taking two trenchers, went to the table, to begin the serving.

  The brunette dared not meet the eyes of the ensign, though she sensed them upon her, idly, as a man’s glance may peruse a slave, appraising her.

  Astubux reached out and touched the hand of the blonde, who put the trencher before him.