by John Norman
I was frightened, because it had been the language, or rather like the language, of my chief captor, and perhaps others of his group. On the other hand, I was encouraged because it seemed to me then that these individuals, if they spoke the same language, must possess the technological skills to return me to my native world.
Yet it was hard to believe.
The men I now noted, held as I was, did not carry pistols and rifles, or even small weapons, such as my captor had had, or the silverish tubes, or wands, which had been carried by the men from the silverish ship. Rather, to my surprise, even amusement, they wore at their sides small swords. Two, over their backs, had slung something like a bow, except that it had a handle, much like a rifle. Four of the others actually carried spears. The spears were large, with curved bronze heads. They seemed heavy. I could not have thrown one.
The men, saving the one called Targo, wore tunics, with helmets. They looked rather frightening. The opening in the helmets reminded me vaguely of a "Y." The swords they carried in scabbards slung over their left shoulder. They wore heavy sandals, laced with thick straps, more than a foot up their leg. Several of them, besides the small swords, carried a knife as well, this attached to a leather belt. They wore pouches also at the belt.
I was relieved that these men, apparently so primitive, could not be of the same group as my former captors, with their sophisticated equipment. But I was also apprehensive for, by the same token, surely men such as these did not have the technological capabilities essential for flights between worlds. These men, surely, could not, themselves, return me to Earth.
I had fallen in with them, however, and would have to make the best of it.
I was rescued, and that was the important thing. There were doubtless men on this world who did possess the capabilities for space flight and I would make inquiries and contact them. With my riches, I could pay well for my transportation back to Earth. The important thing was that I was now safe, that I had been rescued.
I noted the wagon.
It was rather large. It was also scarred in several places, as though it had been struck with sharp objects. In places the wood was splintered. I wondered where the draft animals, presumably oxen, were, who would draw the heavy wagon. I further noted that the boards of the wagon, besides being struck and splintered in certain places, were, in other places, darkened, as though by smoke. Further, looking more closely I could see that the paint on the wagon, which was red, had cracked and blistered considerably. It was reasonably clear that the wagon had been afire, or had come through a fire. As I mentioned, over the wagon, its cover, of blue and yellow silk, was torn. Further, as I could see now, it had been burned at the edges and was, in another area, stained from smoke and rain. It then occurred to me that Targo had seemed haggard, apprehensive, and that, although he seemed to be the sort of man who might be vain about his appearance, judging from the earrings, the sandals, the robe, the rings, that he had not kept up his appearance. I did not even think him the sort who would be likely to walk, but his sandals, with the pearled straps, with certain of the pearls missing, were stained with dust. I recalled, too, how apprehensive the men had been when I had approached them, how they had examined the hill, the fields about, as though they feared I might not be alone.
Targo was running.
They had been attacked.
There were some objects in the wagon, some chests and boxes.
I looked to the girls near the front of the wagon, immeshed in the harness.
There were nineteen of them, ten on one side of the wagon tongue, and nine on the other.
They were naked.
I looked at them, irritably, and stunned. They were incredibly beautiful. I regarded myself as a fantastically beautiful woman, one among perhaps tens of thousands. I had even modeled. But here, to my amazement, and fury, I saw that at least eleven of these girls were unquestionably, clearly, more beautiful than I. On Earth I had never met a woman, personally, whom I had regarded as my superior in beauty. Here, incomprehensibly, but obviously, there were at least eleven. I was puzzled how there could be so many in this one small place. I was shaken. But, I told myself, I am more than their equal in intelligence, and in riches, and in taste, and sophistication. They were doubtless simple barbarians. I felt pity for them. I hated them! I hated them! They looked on me as I had looked on other women, on Earth, casually, unthreatened. They looked on me as I had looked on plainer women, unimportant women, not to be taken account of, not to be considered seriously as a rival, simply as my inferiors in beauty. I could not remember ever having not been the most beautiful woman in any room I had entered. How I had relished the admiration of the men, the intake of their breath, their pleasure, their furtive glances, the irritation of the other women! And these women looked upon me, daring to, as I had upon those others. They regarded me curiously, I could see, but more importantly, I had seen, to my fury, that when I received their instantaneous appraisal, that which one woman gives always to another when first they meet, as natural and unconscious as a glance, that they had, at least to their own satisfaction, found themselves superior to me! To Elinor Brinton! I had seen that if I was to count with them I would have to have qualities other than my beauty to commend me to them, as if I were a plain girl, who must cultivate other qualities, who must struggle to be pleasing, rather than a beauty, whom others must strive to please! The haughty bitches! I was superior to them all! I was more beautiful! I was more rich. I hated them! I hated them!
But the important thing was that I was rescued, that I could soon buy my way home to Earth.
Surely someone would be found, if not here, in the next city, who spoke English, who could put me in contact with those from whom I might purchase passage in my return to Earth.
The important thing was that I had been saved, that I was safe.
I had been rescued.
I began to find Targo odious.
Further, I did not care for my wrists being held by the two men, one on each side.
I tried to pull my wrists away, angrily. I could not, of course, free myself.
I hated men, and their strength.
Targo himself had now grown more and more irritable.
"Let me go!" I cried. "Let me go!"
But I could not free myself.
Once again Targo tried to speak to me, patiently, slowly. I could tell that he was growing furious.
He was a fool, such a tiresome fool. They were all fools. None of them seemed to understand English. One, at least, of the men on the black ship had spoken English. I had heard him converse with the large man. There must be many, then, on this world, many!
I was tired of Targo.
"I do not understand you," I told him, sounding out each word, with great contempt and coldness. Then I looked away, loftily. I had put him in his place.
He said something to a subordinate.
Instantly I was stripped before him.
I screamed. The girls at the wagon tongue laughed.
"Kajira!" cried one of the men, pointing to my thigh.
Every inch of me blushed red.
"Kajira!" laughed Targo. "Kajira!" laughed the others. I heard the girls at the wagon tongue laughing, and clapping their hands.
Tears were running out of Targo's eyes, tiny in the fat of his face.
Then, suddenly, he seemed angry.
He spoke again, sharply.
I was thrown forward on my face and stomach on the grass. The two men who had been holding my wrists continued to do so, but they held them now apart and over my head, pressed down to the grass. Two other men came and held my ankles apart, they, too, pressed down to the grass.
"Lana!" cried Targo.
One of the other men went to the wagon tongue. I could not see what he did there. But I heard a girl laugh. In a moment she had left the wagon tongue and was standing somewhere behind me.
I had been a spoiled, pampered child. The governesses and nurses who had raised me had scolded me, and frequently, but they
had never struck me. They would have been discharged immediately. In all my life I could not remember ever having been struck.
Then I, Elinor Brinton, was whipped.
The girl struck, with her small fierce strength, again and again, over and over, viciously, fiercely, as hard as she could, again and again. I cried out, and screamed and sobbed, and struggled. The handful of slender leather straps was merciless. I bit at the grass, I could not breathe. I could not see for tears. Again and again! "Please stop!" I cried. But then I could cry out no longer. There was only the grass and the tears and the pain of the straps, striking again and again.
I suppose the beating lasted actually for only a few seconds, surely not for more than a minute.
Targo said something to the girl, Lana, and the stinging rain of leather stopped.
The two men at my ankles released them. The two men who held my wrists pulled me up to my knees. I must have been in shock. I could not focus my eyes. I heard the girls laughing at the wagon tongue. I threw up on the grass. The men pulled me away from where I had vomited and another, from behind, holding my hair, pushed my face down to the ground, to the clean grass, and, turning my head, wiped the vomit from my mouth and chin.
Then I was pulled again up and placed, on my knees, the men holding my wrists, before Targo.
I looked up at him.
I saw that he now held my clothing in one hand. I scarcely recognized it. He was looking down at me. In his other hand I saw, dangling, the handful of straps with which I had been beaten. The girl was now being returned by one of the men to her position at the wagon tongue. The entire back of my body, my legs, my arms, my shoulders, was afire. I could not take my eyes from the straps.
The two men released my wrists.
"Kajira," said Targo.
He lifted the straps.
I shook.
I thrust my head to the grass at his feet.
I took his sandal in my hands and pressed my lips down on his foot, kissing it.
I heard laughter from the girls.
He must not have me beaten again!
I must please him.
I kissed his foot again, trembling, sobbing. He must be pleased with me, he must be pleased with me!
He spoke a brief word of command, and, with a swirl of his robe, turned away from me.
I sobbed, raising my head and looking after him.
I was seized from behind by the two men who had held my wrists. I watched Targo's retreating back. I did not dare call out to him. He was no longer interested in me. The two men dragged me to the wagon tongue.
There were ten girls on one side, nine on the other.
I saw the girl who had beaten me, Lana, some positions ahead of me. I noted, suddenly, that she was harnessed. There were buckled straps on her wrists, fastening her in place. And about her body, in a broad loop, passing over her left shoulder and across her right hip, was a wide, heavy leather strap, which was bolted into the wagon tongue. The other girls were similarly fastened. Buckled straps were placed on my wrists. Over my shoulder, about my body, was passed a heavy loop of leather.
I sobbed. I seemed scarcely able to stand. My legs trembled. The entire back of my body stung terribly. I tasted my tears.
The man began to adjust the strap on my body.
Near me, across from me, a short girl, with dark hair, very red lips, and bright dark eyes, smiled at me.
"Ute," she said, pointing to herself. Then she pointed at me. "La?" she asked.
I saw that the girls harnessed at the wagon tongue wore, on their left thighs, the same mark that I wore on mine.
I was dismayed. If someone saw us, as we were, they might think that I was no different from the others, that I was the same as they!
I jerked at the straps on my wrists. I was secured.
"Ute," repeated the short, dark-eyed girl, pointing to herself. Then she again pointed to me. "La?" she inquired.
The man cinched the strap on my body. It was snug. Then he stepped away from me. I was harnessed.
"La?" persisted the dark-eyed girl, pointing at me with her strapped hand. "La?"
"Elinor," I whispered.
"El-in-or," she repeated, smiling. Then, facing the other girls, she pointed at me. "El-in-or," she said, pleased. She seemed delighted.
For some reason, I was utterly grateful, that this short, lovely girl should be pleased by my name.
Most of the other girls merely turned and regarded me, not much interested. The girl Lana, who had beaten me, did not even turn. Her head was in the air.
Another girl, a tall, blondish girl, some two positions ahead of me and on my left, smiled. "Inge," she said, indicating herself.
I smiled.
Targo was now crying out orders. He was looking about, apprehensively.
One of his men shouted.
The girls leaned forward into the traces, pulling at the wagon.
Two of his men thrust at the rear wheels.
The wagon began to move.
I leaned against the leather strap, pretending to push.
They did not need me to pull the wagon. They had pulled it before. I dug my feet into the grass, as though straining. I grunted a little, to add to the effect.
Ute, at my left, cast me a glance, an unpleasant one. Her little body was straining at the strap.
I did not care.
I cried out with pain, and humiliation, as the switch struck my body.
Ute laughed.
I threw all my weight against the strap, sobbing, pushing with all my might.
The wagon was moving now.
In a minute or so I saw the girl Lana switched, as I had been, below the small of the back. She cried out with humiliation and pain, left with a stinging red stripe. The other girls, I among them, laughed. I gathered Lana was not popular. I was pleased that she, too, had been switched! She was a slacker! Why should the rest of us pull for her? Was she better than we?
"Har-ta!" cried Targo. "Har-ta!"
"Har-ta!" cried the men about us.
The girls began to push harder. We strained, to increase the speed of the wagon. From time to time the men would thrust, too, at the wheels.
We cried out with pain as two of the men, about the sides, one on each side, encouraged us with their switches.
We could pull no harder. And yet we were struck! I dared not protest.
The wagon lumbered over the grassy fields.
Targo walked beside us. I would have thought he would have ridden in the wagon, but he did not. He wanted it as light as it could be, even though it meant that he, the leader, must walk.
How I dreaded it when he would cry "Har-ta!" for then we would be switched again.
I sobbed in the straps, under the switch.
But I was Elinor Brinton, of Park Avenue, of Earth! She had been rich, beautiful, smartly attired, tasteful, sophisticated; she had been well educated and traveled; she had been decisive, confident; she had carried her wealth and her beauty with élan; and she had deserved her position in society; it had been rightfully hers, for she had been a gifted, high-order, superbly intelligent individual, an altogether superior person! She deserved everything that she had had! Whatever she had had she should have had, for she was that kind of person! That was the kind of person she was!
So how was it that she now found herself on a distant world, alone and friendless, among barbarians, who could not even speak her language, choking with dust, sweating, unclothed, straining in a harness, under the switch of a master?
I glanced at Ute.
She regarded me, unpleasantly. She had not forgotten that I had shirked. She looked away, disgusted.
I was angry. I did not care. Who was she? A fool! On such a world as this it was every girl for herself! Every girl for herself!
"Har-ta!" cried Targo.
"Har-ta!" cried the men about us.
We cried out again, stung by the switches. I threw my full weight against the leather, digging my feet into the grass.
I s
obbed.
I would not be permitted to shirk.
I had always had my way before, with both women and men. I could get extensions for my term papers. I could get a new fur wrap, when I wished. When I tired of one auto I would have another. I could always petition for what I wished, or wheedle for it, or look sad, or pout. I would always get what I wished.
Here I did not have my way.
Here I would not be permitted to shirk. The switch would see to that. If there were those here who might wheedle, or have their way, it would be those more beautiful, more pleasing than I. I would be expected, I realized, to my fury, for the first time, to do my share.
The switch struck again and I wept.
Sobbing, crying out inwardly, I pushed against the broad leather strap with all my might.
7
I, With Others, Am Taken Northward
Targo, my master, was a slaver.
I cost him nothing.
Shortly before he made me one of his girls, some two or three days before, he had been attacked by outlaw tarnsmen, some four days journey north by northeast from the city of Ko-ro-ba, which lies high in the northern temperate latitudes of the planet Gor, which is the name of this world. He was bound, traveling over the hills and meadowlands east and north of Ko-ro-ba, for the city of Laura, which lies on the banks of the Laurius river, some two hundred pasangs inland from the coast of the sea, called Thassa. Laura is a small trading city, a river port, whose buildings are largely of wood, consisting mostly it seems of warehouses and taverns. It is a clearing house for many goods, wood, salt, fish, stone, fur and slaves. At the mouth of the Laurius, where it empties into Thassa, is found the free port of Lydius, administered by the merchants, an important Gorean caste. From Lydius goods may be embarked for the islands of Thassa, such as Teletus, Hulneth and Asperiche, even Cos and Tyros, and the coastal cities, such as Port Kar and Helmutsport and, far to the south, Schendi and Bazi. And, from Lydius, of course, goods of many sorts, though primarily rough goods, such things as tools, crude metal and cloth, brought on barges, towed by tharlarion treading on log roads, following the river, are brought to Laura, for sale and distribution inland. The Laurius is a winding, long, gentle, slow river. It does not have the breadth and current which are the terrors of the titanic Vosk farther to the south, well below Ko-ro-ba, though well above Ar, which is said to be the greatest city of all known Gor. The Laurius, like the Vosk, flows in a generally westerly direction, though the Laurius inclines more to the southwest than the great Vosk.
