Mariners of Gor

Chapter Twenty-One

I stood at the rail, with many others.

Off the port bow one could see islands, far off, a part of what we would later learn was an extended archipelago, which extended for better than two thousand pasangs, only a relatively small portion of which was inhabited.

That we continued north, along these coasts, much displeased the men. Pani had interposed themselves between the great water casks and angry men with clubs and poles who wished to shatter the casks, that one must put ashore for fresh water.

I think there were few on board who did not voice their disgruntlement, if only privately, in their quarters, or about their work, when with agreeable confreres. Not since the mutiny had there been such seething ugliness beneath the veil of duty and discipline. When officers drew near, men grew silent.

Some of the minor officers had ordered floggings.

This seemed to me unwise.

“Please, noble lord,” said Tyrtaios to Lord Nishida, nearby, “anchor, put forth the galleys. We have been long at sea. Meat and flour are short. There are many armsmen amongst us. They are not mariners, they are soldiers. They want to feel ground beneath their feet. Replenish the great casks with fresher water. Perhaps there is fruit on land. Perhaps there are forests. Might there not be hunting within them?”

“Such remarks,” said Lord Nishida, “are best borne in private.”

Tyrtaios was a clever man. I thought it no accident that he had addressed Lord Nishida within the hearing of others.

“Please ponder their worth, noble lord,” said Tyrtaios.

“I have not seen the signal,” said Lord Nishida. “It may not be safe to seek the shore. We are still days from the holding of Lord Temmu.”

“It is well,” said Tyrtaios, “that weapons were taken in. Else I would fear war.”

Men glanced at one another.

“Not all weapons were recovered,” said Lord Nishida.

“What shall we do?” inquired Tyrtaios.

“We shall await the signal,” said Lord Nishida.

“May I implore Lord Okimoto,” inquired Tyrtaios, “that he, as senior, may rule otherwise?”

“Certainly,” said Lord Nishida.

Whereas Tyrtaios, as of the dismissal of Seremides, was no longer of the retinue of Lord Nishida, but of that of Lord Okimoto, at the latter’s request, and was well aware that Lord Okimoto was of subtly higher station than Lord Nishida, he was also well aware, as were most of us, that Lord Okimoto, from the lofty pedestal of his seniority, commonly refrained from involving himself in the day-to-day activities and management of the great ship.

Tyrtaios then excused himself, and withdrew.

I glanced to the side.

The slave, Alcinoe, edged more closely to me. It was as though she did not know I was there. Her small hands were on the high rail, at her shoulders. She was looking forward. How lovely were her hands. Her long dark hair was back about her head, moved by the breeze. She wore a light, white, sleeveless tunic, slave short. She had exciting arms and legs. The metal collar encircled her neck. The rep-cloth of the tunic left few of her charms to the imagination. I was pleased that the brand had been put to her. Women such as she belonged to men. Let there be no mistake about it. Let them then be so imprinted, so designated. It was, appropriately, the common kajira mark. How right that was for her. How splendid that the former Lady Flavia of Ar should bear in her thigh, now that of a slave, the most common of Gorean slave marks, the tiny, tasteful, cursive kef, as did many thousands of others. The familiarity of this brand, of course, is no reproach, nor any indication of inferior merit. It is a very beautiful mark, enhancing a slave’s beauty, and, as such, it is likely to mark not only the least of slaves but the highest of slaves, not only a pot girl or a kettle-and-mat girl but the pampered pets chained to the side of a Ubar’s throne. Still, I was pleased that it was the common mark which had been put on her. That seemed appropriate. Too, it was one of my favorite brands. She wore the ship’s collar, with the sturdy lock at the back of the neck. She had her head up, looking out, across the water. Surely she knew, the tart, that the collar increases the attractiveness of a woman a hundred fold. Is that not known even by free women? To be sure, the matter is not purely aesthetic, though that aspect is indisputable, but is also a matter of its meaning, that she whose neck it encircles is the most desirable of females, the female who is goods, slave goods. I found her incredibly beautiful, desirable, and exciting. I felt like seizing her, tearing away the tunic, throwing her to the deck, and putting her fiercely, impetuously, imperiously, to my pleasure. I looked to the side, with a studied lack of concern.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Looking,” she said. “The land is there!” She pointed, at a tiny line against the horizon.

“Are you not standing rather close?” I asked.

She looked up. “Does Master fear the closeness of a lowly slave?” she asked.

“Perhaps you should be behind me, to my left,” I said.

“Master does not own me,” she said.

“That is my good fortune,” I said. “If I owned you, you would learn your collar a thousand times better than you know it now.”

“Perhaps then,” she said, “it is my good fortune that Master does not own me.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

Then, suddenly, she knelt beside me, sobbing, her head down to my feet.

“Own me, own me, Master,” she begged.

“Who would want you?” I asked.

“I have seen many men look at me,” she said. “Many men would want me!”

“Then let them buy you,” I said.

“I want to belong to Master,” she said. “Even from Ar, when I was the freest of the free, I wanted to belong to you!”

“You belong to the ship,” I said.

She looked up, pleading. “Master!” she protested.

“Go to the Kasra keeping area,” I said, “and beg to be put on your chain.”

“Master!” she wept.

“Need a command be repeated?”

“No, Master!” she said.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“I will go to the Kasra keeping area, and beg to be put on my chain,” she said.

“Go,” I said. “Run!”

She leaped up and fled, sobbing, to the nearest open hatch.

“I see,” said Lord Nishida, smiling, “you are fond of the slave.”

I shrugged. “The little beast is not without her attractions,” I said.

“Do not forget she is a slave, and only that,” said Lord Nishida.

“I will not,” I said.

“Lord Okimoto approaches,” observed Lord Nishida.

Lord Nishida bowed first.

There is apparently a certain order to such things, who bows first, how deeply one bows, and such. On continental Gor, and the familiar islands, it is common to give the right hand, the usual weapon hand, to the other, though mariners sometimes clasp one another’s wrist, in the mariner’s grip, far more secure than the clasping of hands. Giving the weapon hand to the other is certainly a gesture of trust. Perhaps that is why one seldom shakes hands with strangers. The business of bowing seemed to me to make a good deal of sense. One exchanged a greeting with courtesy, and, at the same time, retained the freedom of the weapon hand. Hands, too, amongst the higher Pani, are often concealed in the broad sleeves of their robes. This makes possible the concealment, and the ready availability, of a sleeve dagger. The continental custom, on the other hand, makes it possible to draw the other off balance, and, obviously, if one is right-handed, one is more at risk from a fellow who might favor the left hand.

Lord Okimoto moved his larger bulk to the rail.

Both lords wore sandals.

The hair of each was drawn behind the head and fastened in a ball or top knot. This was the case with many of the Pani, not all.

Tyrtaios had returned with Lord Okimoto.

The warrior, Turgus, was nearby, who, as it may be recalled, had replaced Tyrtaios in the retinue of Lord Nishida.

Each lord seemed more comfortable, on the whole, dealing with the armsmen and mariners by means of an intermediary, Tyrtaios for Lord Okimoto, Turgus for Lord Nishida, though there was nothing rigid in this matter. Lord Nishida, for example, seemed somewhat more flexible in attending or not attending to this protocol. They both, for the most part, dealt openly with high officers. Lord Nishida, it might be noted, had spoken pleasantly to me, and I was not even an officer.

Lord Okimoto was handed a glass of the Builders by a Pani guardsman.

I heard a scratch and a tap, from my right, some feet along the rail, and saw Seremides bracing himself against the rail, shading his eyes. I saw men draw away from him. He was unarmed, as far as I could tell, in the ragged brown tunic. This was perhaps just as well, as there were more than a thousand men on board who could now, given his handicap, his helplessness on a single leg, his need of the crutch, easily best him with the blade, and perhaps a hundred or so would have been pleased to do so. Several had tried to goad him into seizing up a sword, placed before him, and entering into the games of steel, but he had not done so, enduring rather abuse and jeers, insults and ridicule, the raillery of many, and some, fools who, in his day of power, would have feared to speak before him, or come armed into his presence. How pathetically, with helpless tears, he would sometimes strike about him with the crutch, and then fall. How he would sometimes cringe, and weep, at his helplessness, begging to be left alone. How keenly, I thought, would so proud, and once so terrible, a man, have felt his reduction, its humiliation. To be sure, even in his ruin, there remained a sense of something formidable within him, particularly when others were not about him, and this, I thought, was primarily a matter of mind and will, of resolution. I did not doubt but what he might strangle a man with one hand, or, lunging, thrust his crutch through a body, but what I most feared in Seremides was something that had always been there, but had often been overlooked, something intangible, what I could not see, the sinister depth of his character, the danger of his mind, his capacity to hate, and remember. The kajirae, even more than the men, avoided him, fleeing at the sound of the tap and scratch of the crutch, hastening away, lest his large, awkward shadow fall upon them.

Lord Okimoto handed the glass of the Builders back to the guardsman.

He then turned to Turgus, subordinate to Lord Nishida. “Have Aetius instruct the helmsman to bring the ship closer to shore, a half pasang.”

I detected a subtlety here.

Lord Nishida, on the other hand, did not object.

“Is this wise?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Are we to put to?” inquired Turgus.

“No,” said Lord Okimoto. “Continue our present course.”

“Why so close?” inquired Lord Nishida.

“It is my calculation,” said Lord Okimoto, “from the charts, that we have abeam the lands which were once those of Lord Temmu.”

“The ancestral lands,” said Lord Nishida.

“Lost early in the war,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Fortunes wax and wane,” said Lord Nishida.

“In any event, it is from this coastline that the signal is to rise,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Secretly, doubtless,” said Lord Nishida.

“Doubtless,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I fear the war goes not well,” said Lord Nishida.

“Something may be told from the signal.”

“Or,” said Lord Nishida, “if there is no signal.”

“Yes,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Why so close?” asked Lord Nishida.

“There will be no signal,” said Lord Okimoto, “if our presence is unnoted.”

“So close,” said Lord Nishida, “any might note our presence.”

“It is a risk,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Surely,” said Lord Nishida, “you will not put to, and risk a landing.”

“No,” said Lord Okimoto, “not without the signal.”

I did not understand much of this conversation.

I did gather that some uncertainty attached to certain political and military matters.

In a quarter of an Ahn, we began to see more detail abeam, a steep, sandy beach, with hills and trees beyond it.

I estimated we were something like a half pasang offshore. Our course continued north.

That we were closer to shore, whatever might be its advantages or disadvantages, did increase the tension on board, and various crew members, acting as spokesmen for one group or another, from one deck or another, urged minor officers to petition for a landing. More Pani now appeared on deck, armed, as they always were. Lords Nishida and Okimoto had never disarmed their own men. The Pani, of course, were far outnumbered by the armsmen and mariners. Too, I had little doubt but what a number of weapons were concealed about the ship. Certainly several had never been recovered, for placement in the weapon rooms.

I muchly feared disorder.

When night came, we anchored.

I gathered this was a precaution, taken to minimize the chances of missing a possible signal.

It was now the next day, the second day of the sixth month, the day following the first sight of land.

We were still offshore, something like a half pasang, moving north.

As earlier, slaves had been freed of their chains, and many enjoyed the liberty of the deck.

I had seen Iole, Thetis, Alcmene, Pyrrha, Procris, and many others about. I also saw Alcinoe. I did not order her back to her chain. I enjoyed looking at her, in her tunic, the minimal tunic allowed to the Kasra girls. How amusing, I thought, that the former Lady Flavia of Ar should be so clad. To be sure, she did not seem to object, and was, often enough, in my vicinity. These were all ship slaves. Several privately owned slaves, too, were on deck, such as Lord Nishida’s Saru. I also noted Cabot’s Cecily, and Pertinax’s Jane. ‘Jane’ is a barbarian name, like ‘Cecily’, but the woman herself, as I had learned, had had the benefits of civilization. Perhaps she had been given the name because it pleased her barbarian master, or, perhaps, as a punishment, that she would be thought of as, and treated no differently from, a barbarian slave.

I also speculated, as I had before, as to what might be the motivation of allowing so many slaves, mere ship slaves, such liberty.

Lords Nishida and Okimoto had been on the open deck, near the port rail, since the seventh Ahn. Each had at their disposal a glass of the Builders. Each had several guards at hand. I think they remained amidships not only to better monitor the fevers of the day, less accessible from the stem castle or stern castle, but to dispatch their guardsmen in case of need, perhaps to quell some disorder, or batten down hatches, keeping many below decks.

It was my impression, given the increasing restlessness of the men, which might approach the level of danger, given the excitements of the sight of land, that they thought it might be unwise, unless clearly called for, to order a clearing of the deck. We had been nearly a year at sea and the discipline of the armsmen, now that land was near, hung by little more than a thread.

Tyrtaios continued to urge a landing. I suspected he genuinely dreaded another mutiny.

“If a landing is made,” said Lord Okimoto, “all treasure must remain on board.”

“Of course,” said Tyrtaios.

It was my understanding that a dialect of Gorean was spoken at the World’s End, that the Priest-Kings had seen to this. By their mysterious power, and secret sky ships, it seems they had long ago placed Initiates amongst the Pani, perhaps centuries ago, who had taught them Gorean. These Initiates, as the legends went, had sought to exploit their prestige in an attempt to secure power, and had been done away with. The Priest-Kings, on the other hand, by various manifestations of their power, doubtless the Flame Death, and such, had made clear the wisdom of retaining Gorean. It was written however, amongst the Pani, in an unfamiliar script, or set of signs, as it is, as well, I understand, in the Tahari. Whereas a variety of languages are spoken on Gor, Gorean, as you know, is almost universal. The common wisdom on such matters is that the Priest-Kings favor a common language, as a means to more easily communicate their views to humans, for example, with respect to the technology and weapon laws. It is apparently simpler to do this in one language than in several. Linguistic drift, at least on the continent, is managed by the standardization promulgated in scribal conferences held during the great fairs, held four times annually in the vicinity of the Sardar. I recalled that Lord Nishida had asked me, early in the voyage, if I could understand his Gorean. I could, though it was somewhat different. To be sure, there are many dialects of Gorean. I am told I have a Cosian accent, but I am not aware of this, or not much aware of it. But it is doubtless so. Certainly I would not deny it. One is seldom aware of one’s own accent. As Alcinoe suggested, long ago in the cell, is it not the others who always have an accent?

Lord Okimoto clearly feared a mass desertion, particularly if the armsmen and mariners might depart with their packs filled with treasure.

The armsmen and mariners, however, as it later became clear, would not have been well advised to put such plans into effect, at least in the territories at hand.

Slaves, of course, another form of treasure, however desperate they might be to set foot on land, however pathetically they might plead, would remain on board, as well.

I then suspected the motivation for the unprecedented liberty that had of late been accorded to our shapely kajirae. Their display was to incite the interest of the men, and make their desertion less likely. Whereas I had no interest in desertion, had I any, I would not have wished to leave the ship without at least one of its slaves thonged and on my leash, perhaps Alcinoe, though I had no interest in her. To be sure, should I return her to Ar, I might collect a nice bounty on her, for she had once been the Lady Flavia, a traitress, once even the confidante of Talena, the muchly sought, false Ubara. I suspected that there were few slaves on board who had not caught the eye of one or more of the men. Aeacus, for example, I was sure, would not have minded having the lovely Iole squirming in his slave straps. There was something rather deceitful or meretricious in all this, of course, as the Pani had surely not brought these goods across the vast width of turbulent, green Thassa without plans for their disposition. Indeed, save for a brief time early in the voyage, these girls had been kept muchly away from the men, to the later annoyance of the men, and the misery and anguish of many of the slaves, pulling at their chains, tethered in place, their bodies denied the caress of masters, their hearts the ecstasy of the yielded slave.

It was in the late afternoon, shortly past the fifteenth Ahn, when a cry went up and I rushed, with others, to the port rail. Ashore, atop what appeared to be the left side of narrow defile, leading between hills into a wooded area, there was a narrow, ascending trail of reddish smoke. A moment later, near it, another narrow, ascending trail of smoke stood out against the sky, over the defile and woods. The second trail of smoke was yellow.

“Lord Temmu holds the shore,” said Lord Okimoto, his glass of the Builders trained on the streaming smoke.

“His fortress stands,” said Lord Nishida, his own glass trained, as well, on the smoke.

“Put to,” said Lord Okimoto.

This was signaled to Aetius.

We heard anchors rattling. Sails were slackened, and began to be furled.

“Look!” called a man.

“What is the meaning of that?” asked Tyrtaios.

A third spume of smoke rose now toward the sky. This column of smoke was clearly green.

Each of the streamers of smoke was now vanishing, drifting away.

On continental Gor, green is the caste color of the Physicians. I did not know its meaning here.

“Safety,” said Lord Okimoto to Tyrtaios.

A cry of pleasure went up from men gathered about, and the motivation of this cry was quickly broadcast about the ship.

“Let us put forth the galleys, the small boats,” said Tyrtaios.

Tarl Cabot, the tarnsman, commander of the tarn cavalry, had now joined Lords Okimoto and Nishida at the rail. Aetius, who handled the daily management of the ship, was on the stern-castle deck, looking forward.

“I have seen three columns of smoke,” said Tarl Cabot.

“We expected to see a single column,” said Lord Nishida, “that of yellow, which would signify that the castle of Lord Temmu still stands, that it is not yet taken. To be sure, we did not know that even that would be seen.”

“We feared,” said Lord Okimoto, “that we were too late, that all was lost.”

“The red column,” said Lord Nishida, “we did not expect to see. It signifies that we hold the shore, that Lord Temmu has retaken ground. We rejoice.”

“The third smoke,” said Lord Okimoto, “that of green, of safety, means that a landing may be effected.”

“That is what has so inspirited the men,” said Lord Nishida.

Dozens of men had climbed on the rail, ascended the ratlines, or clung to the masts, that they might see the better.

“What I do not understand,” said Lord Nishida, “is why there should be both a red and green column. If we hold the shore, it is safe, and the green column is unnecessary.”

“It confirms the red column,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Launch the galleys, the small boats,” men cried.

“The green column,” said Lord Nishida, “might indicate that an area is safe to approach, even though it might lie in the territory of Lord Yamada, no enemy being about, or that a passage has been cleared, or a castle may be approached, or such, and thus one might have green without red, but it would be unusual to have both green and red.”

“Yes,” said Lord Okimoto, “unusual, but scarcely a cause for concern.”

“Yellow,” said Lord Nishida to Cabot, “indicates that the holding of Lord Temmu stands.”

“It would be difficult to take his castle,” said Lord Okimoto. “It is a mighty holding.”

“If we hold the shore,” said Lord Nishida, thoughtfully, “it would seem quite likely that the castle of Lord Temmu would still stand.”

“Thus,” said Cabot, “it seems only one signal, the red, would suffice.”

“Precisely, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida.

“All signs,” said Lord Okimoto, “are auspicious.”

“It seems so,” said Lord Nishida.

There was much clamoring amongst the men.

“I do not think they can be held longer,” said Tyrtaios.

Turgus, who was liaison to Lord Nishida, looked about, with apprehension.

“Landing parties may be formed,” said Lord Okimoto.

This decision was met with cries of approval.

“Order is to be maintained,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Certainly,” said Tyrtaios.

“Dispatch a scouting party,” said Cabot.

“The smoke was red,” said Lord Okimoto, patiently.

“Nonetheless,” said Cabot.

“The signals are secret,” said Lord Okimoto.

“We will not be able to restrain the men,” said Tyrtaios.

Already men had rushed below decks, to obtain access to the three remaining nested galleys, and the numerous tiny, tiered, ship’s boats.

Pani looked to Lords Nishida and Okimoto. Were they to use their swords?

To be sure, such an act would doubtless have cost dozens of men, and forever divided the Pani from the mariners and armsmen. As Tyrtaios had feared, war would betide the great ship. Too, the mission of the Pani, whatever it might be, would crumble.

“No,” said Lord Okimoto.

“The men must be armed,” said Lord Nishida.

“It is not necessary,” said Lord Okimoto.

But Tarl Cabot had ascended the ratlines some ten feet, to where he might be clearly seen. “Open the weapon rooms!” he called.

Many were the cheers.

Men hastened to do his bidding.

He would not send men ashore unarmed.

Lord Okimoto was not pleased. His eyes narrowed, unpleasantly. “The commander,” he said to Lord Nishida, “exceeds his authority.”

“I shall reprimand him,” said Lord Nishida.

“The commander,” said Lord Okimoto, “is circumspect.”

“He knows war,” said Lord Nishida.

“The smoke was red,” said Lord Okimoto.

“True,” said Lord Nishida.

“The signals are secret,” said Lord Okimoto.

“They were,” said Lord Nishida.

“I see,” said Lord Okimoto.

Men were hurrying below decks, to the weapon rooms.

“Who will disarm them?” asked Lord Okimoto.

“Many are secretly armed now,” said Lord Nishida. “If we deny them arms, will they not distrust us, that we would send them so ashore?”

“Perhaps,” said Lord Okimoto.

“A force of our men, fifty, divided between us, will go first,” said Lord Nishida.

“Very well,” said Lord Okimoto.

“We will keep a goodly force on board,” said Lord Nishida. “As some return, others may go.”

“No treasure is to go ashore,” said Lord Okimoto.

“No,” said Lord Nishida, “nor slaves.”

The slaves, save some, kept below, were on deck, and this intelligence was received with dismay. “Please, Masters!” wept many. They knelt piteously, and extended their hands to mariners. They, too, longed to go ashore, to feel water about their ankles, to feel sand beneath their bared feet, to touch a stone, grass, a living tree. There were moans amongst them, and sobbing. Many stood by the rail, looking toward the land, their cheeks stained with tears. Those who had been kept below, even during the days of maximum liberty, had been mostly those who, when permitted on deck, had always been hooded.

It seemed unlikely to me that the hooded slaves, however beautiful they might be, would be that much more beautiful than their chain sisters, in either the Venna or Kasra keeping areas. The concealment of beauty, of course, might be only one motivation for hooding a slave. The usual motivation for hooding a slave is to increase one’s control over the slave. A hooded slave, for example, is likely to be disoriented, confused, fearful, and helpless. Sometimes an unpopular, haughty free woman is surprised and hooded, and put by several young men to slave use, after which she is returned to her robes and freedom. Thereafter, she may speculate, encountering one young fellow or another, here or there, at one time or another, whether he is one, or not, who has enjoyed her. Can she live with this? Is that fellow smiling? What is the meaning of that look, by another, or does it have a meaning? When any fellow’s eyes are upon her she seizes her veils and holds them more closely about her face. Do other free women suspect how she is now different from them? Could they possibly know? That she, though a free woman, has been subjected to slave use? How they would shun and scorn her, if they knew. Whose pleasure has she served? That of several, as might have a slave, but she knows not one of them. Can she endure this shame, this humiliation, this uncertainty, being the one who does not know, while others look upon her, and perhaps remember, and know? Is not a paga girl, in an alcove, serving her master of the Ahn, more fortunate? She is likely to be well aware of who it is who is putting her to use. Too, the fellow is likely to want the slave to be well aware of who it is who is seeing to it that she endures the lengthy and unspeakable raptures of her bondage. It is he whom she, helpless, clutching him, must beg for more. And, too, the free woman, to her chagrin, can recall the incipient feelings in her body, and her gasping, and how her small arms touched, and then held, and then clutched, gratefully, the body in whose power she lay. How they had laughed, when a spasm, to her shame, had rocked her. Then, having been given a taste, however brief, of what it might be to be subject to the mastery, she was returned to freedom, to live as she could, the life of a free woman. Such a woman, commonly, in her misery and loneliness, in her shame and humiliation, in her uncertainty and confusion, begins to roam the high bridges, frequent lonely streets, and wander unescorted outside the city gates. She courts the collar. She seeks it. She beseeches it. She weeps with rapture as she is stripped and bound.

Hooding may also figure in certain games, as when a hooded slave, or one fully concealed in a slave sack, is gambled for. What is the value? Is the stone in the box a pebble or a diamond, is the slave in the hood or sack a beauty or a she-tarsk?

Hooded slaves may also compete in various games, as in locating objects scattered about a room, arranging objects by size or weight, threading beads, fitting puzzle pieces together, a candy for the winner, a switch stroke for the losers, placing and tying sandals, plaiting binding fiber, braiding a whip, and such. Free women occasionally use hooded serving slaves on all fours, in crawling races, in which, walking behind them, they incite them to greater speed by the frequent monitions of a switch. Free women often delight in this game, as it gives them an opportunity to show what they think of female slaves. Free women hate female slaves; men, on the other hand, prize them, and seek to own them.

What man does not desire a slave?

Hooding has many uses; one might be, I thought, to conceal an identity. For example, a woman is sometimes hooded, and gagged, to be more easily transported from a city. Sometimes a woman is sold, hooded and gagged, but this is rare, as a buyer usually wishes to see all of a slave, before risking coin.

I heard a galley being placed in the water. Pani would be the first to board. I saw men moving about, now armed. Soon, a flotilla of small boats would be launched.

“Please, Masters!” wept kneeling slaves. And then others, from the rail, knelt about us, as well. “Please, Masters!”

“You have been long at sea, beauties,” said Tyrtaios. “Perhaps you would like to go ashore.”

“Yes, oh, yes, Master!” they wept.

There must have been some twenty before us, and I could see other such groups about the deck, imploring others.

Regarding them, kneeling before us, pleading, in their tiny, form-clinging tunics, and close-fitting collars, I was again impressed with the quality of the ship’s kajirae. The Pani had made many excellent purchases. It occurred to me that perhaps they had not been bought to be sold, actually, but, rather, to be distributed, as gifts. Certainly there was not one but what would make a lovely gift.

I thought of Alcinoe, too, then, given as a gift.

She could be given to anyone, anytime, anywhere.

For a moment I was troubled.

Then I recalled she meant nothing to me.

Excellent, I thought.

She meant nothing to me.

Still, I thought, it might be pleasant to own her, such a slave, to own her completely, as one owns a slave.

“Perhaps you can beg prettily,” said Tyrtaios.

“Master?” said more than one.

“Interest us,” said Tyrtaios. “Show that you are worth owning.”

“Do not be cruel to us,” said a slave. “Have mercy on us. Do not make us show ourselves as what we are, slaves! Do not make us move so, as slaves! Do you not know what that does to us? To so perform before men! It arouses us, like slave dance, and teaches us we belong to men! It reminds us of what we are. Be merciful! Do not ask us to do that, unless you will subsequently fulfill us, according to us the caresses of the master. Please! Please! Else we will suffer the torments of the neglected slave! Please be merciful! We are already starved for the touch of masters!”

“You are slaves,” said a man. “Move as slaves!”

“Please, no!” wept a slave.

“Move,” said Tyrtaios.

The men began to laugh, and clap.

They moved well. How beautiful are women! I saw their eyes, their expressions, the needfulness in their movements, the subtleties. What fires men have set to burn in the bellies of slaves! Is it cruel, I wondered, to have done this to them, to make them the helpless victims of such powerful, frequently recurrent needs? I supposed not, as it makes them the richest and fullest of women, the most helpless and authentic of women, the most irreparably female of women, more a woman than a free woman, afflicted by her inhibitions, locked within her conventions, the prescriptions of her society, can dream. One cannot, of course, ignite needs which are not there, cannot set fires where there is nothing to burn, where there is nothing ready to burn, nothing eager to burn, nothing hoping to burn. One can free such needs, of course, order them forth, refuse to allow them to remain feared and denied, and their freeing is, essentially, what the woman, in her deepest heart, wants. On the other hand, as they are slaves, it does not matter. They are slaves. One does what one wishes with them.

The slaves now subsided, many on all fours, looking anxiously to the men.

“Now coffle us,” said one of the slaves, “by metal, by wrist, neck, or ankle! Take us ashore, chained! We will not escape! We cannot escape! We are ready! You have made us so! We beg only haste! You need not take us to the grass, or the high, dry beach! Cast us to the wet, drenched sand, use us, if you wish, in the raging surf, but use us, Masters, use us!”

“That is enough whining and whimpering of the sluts,” said Tyrtaios, addressing me, and several, who stood about. “Get them to their mats, and put them on their chains.”

There were cries of lamentation from the slaves. Some, in frustration, and futility, struck the planks of the deck with their small fists.

I wondered if Tyrtaios cared for women.

He was, as I recalled, quite possibly of the Assassins.

Such men usually have more on their mind than slaves, such things as their kills, as wealth, as power.

One of the greatest had been Pa-Kur, whose horde had almost mastered Ar.

To be sure, the frustration of a slave is sometimes useful in the control of a slave.

And, I thought, Tyrtaios did little without purpose.

What in one man might seem pointless or gratuitous, in another, such as Tyrtaios, might be the result of sober calculation, a move on the kaissa board of advantage. On such a board slaves may be moved, as well as men.

And do they not make lovely pieces?

“Must whips be brought?” asked Tyrtaios.

“No, no, Master!” cried the miserable slaves, and they rose to their feet, many sobbing, to return to their keeping areas.

“Attend them,” said Tyrtaios to me, and some of the others, who stood about.

I heard several of the small boats being put in the water. I supposed that some two thirds, or so, of the armsmen and mariners might make their landing, and others later, as they returned.

It was toward evening now.

Why, I asked myself, would Tyrtaios have us, several of us, attend the return of the slaves to the Venna and Kasra keeping areas?

It was only later that I understood, or thought I might understand.

Tyrtaios, I suspect, wished to appear to the men as one who might have much to give, to be perceived as a likely bestower of privilege, and power.

Nearby, standing near the rail, I saw a dark figure, that of Seremides, braced against the rail, the crude, narrow crutch beside him.

When Tyrtaios glanced at him, for Tyrtaios often apprised himself of his surroundings, Seremides looked away, as though concerned to watch the small boats, now about the galley, approach the shore.

I heard a soft, feminine voice at my side, one I would have recognized in the darkness, the pitch blackness, of a dungeon of chained slaves.

“Perhaps Master would like to put me to my mat,” said the voice.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“And see that I am well fastened there, on my chain?” said the voice.

“That would give me great pleasure,” I said.

“I belong in the Kasra keeping area,” she said.

“That for lesser slaves,” I said.

“I am informed so,” she said.

“Precede me, slut,” I said.

“May I speak?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I suppose,” she said, “that not all sluts are slaves.”

“Probably not,” I said, “though doubtless they should be made slaves.”

“But all slaves are sluts,” she said.

“They had better be,” I said.

“Good,” she said, “Master.”

Men were about us, hurrying slaves below. Some were conducted by the wrist, or arm. Others were put in painful leading position, one in each hand, their heads held at the hip of their keeper of the moment. Others were hurried on their way with a shove, or a stinging slap below the small of the back. Some cried out, hastened with the bow of a belt across the backs of their thighs. Most tried to hurry ahead, down the companionways, and through the corridors.

“Move,” I told her.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

I followed her. I wished I had her on a leash, if only that she might know herself leashed, and on my leash.

We were down three decks in a bit, and rather separated from the others.

“May I speak?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“I gather,” she said, “that the men are to chain us.”

“It seems so,” I said.

“That is unusual,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am a slave,” she said. “I prefer being chained by a man.”

“I understand,” I said.

This made sense as females know in their heart that they are by nature the property of males. This natural relationship, refined within, and expressed within, the enhancements of civilization, may be expressed in many ways, for example, by the brand, the collar, distinctive clothing, bracelets, a chain, and such. The chain, of course, is not purely symbolic. That is clear to any woman who finds herself on a chain.

“But why, now?” she asked.

“I am not sure,” I said. Actually, it seemed very likely to me that, now that our voyage was much at its end, Tyrtaios, and doubtless others, would be anxious to enlist associates, for some end or other, to which end the prospect of a distribution of slaves might prove conducive.

Accordingly, in such a case, it might be useful to force, as he had, beautiful, half-naked slaves to prove their heat, and need, before virile males.

Who would not enjoy having one or more of them?

Similarly, it seemed that each might chain his choice.

I found that of interest.

Disputes in such matters are commonly adjudicated with the sword. The slave, in such a case, is usually stripped, bound, hand and foot, hooded or blindfolded, and thrown to the side. She must wait, to see to whom she will belong.

We had now approached the lower decks.

“May I speak, Master?” she inquired.

“Yes,” I said.

“On our way,” she said, “we will pass the Venna area.”

“True,” I said, “where the better slaves are housed.”

“I am not sure of that,” she said.

“You little she-sleen,” I said. “How vain you are!”

“Have you ever been in the Venna keeping area?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “nor the Kasra keeping area either, for that matter.”

“I am curious to gaze upon these special slaves,” she said, “particularly those who are always hooded when taken through the corridors, up the companionways, to the open deck.”

“I doubt that you would be objective, in assessing your betters,” I said.

“My betters?”

“Certainly.”

“I am not sure of that,” she said.

I did not respond.

“Are you not curious?” she asked.

“It is none of our business,” I said. To be sure, I was curious.

“We may have few such opportunities,” she said.

“We are near the Venna keeping area,” I noted. The Kasra keeping area was on the deck below.

“The portal,” she said, “is ajar.”

The lock dangled.

It had been broken away, probably by a hammer.

We could hear the sounds of men, and slaves, and chains, within. There was much stirring. We could also see that lamps had been lit within. I heard nothing of the large women, so coarse, and gross, and their switches. How different they were from the slaves of desirability, the soft, beautiful, delicious, feminine slaves, the gems on a slaver’s necklace, those for whom discerning men patiently wait to be put upon the block. Men, it seemed, on the word of Tyrtaios, had invaded this normally sequestered precinct. I suppose it was much the same below, in the Kasra area.

“Please!” begged the slave, Alcinoe.

In the light of the lamp in the corridor the collar, closely fitting, was lovely on her neck. She had not been given much to wear. It was a “Kasra tunic,” so to speak, appropriate to the lower keeping area. She was lightly complexioned and her dark hair was soft about her head and shoulders. I myself wondered if the slaves who had been hooded could be much her superior. Certainly I did not think that those of the Venna keeping area who had been brought unhooded to the deck had been much her superior, if at all. Indeed, I suspected that she had been consigned to the lower area with aforethought, perhaps to suggest her unimportance. Seremides might have arranged that, I supposed. To be sure, there were some slaves from each keeping area whom I recognized would be likely to bring more off the block than Alcinoe, if sold as common meat, and not as an item of special interest, on which, say, a bounty might be collected. But, in spite of that, even considered as common meat, I thought one could do far worse than the slave, Alcinoe. Too, I thought her much improved from Ar. Always beautiful, always a female who disturbed dreams, who would be likely to occur in them naked, in a man’s chains, she now seemed to me much more beautiful. And this was not, in my view, a simple matter of the carefully supervised regimen of diet and exercise routinely imposed on domestic animals of her sort, shaping, trimming, and vitalizing her figure, that it might be brought to the block as a superb stimulus to buyers. It was, rather, the fuller beauty of a woman, which is brought out by bondage, a tonicity, a softness, a femininity, an aliveness, a sensitivity, a vulnerability, an awareness, in which her wars are done, her conflicts resolved, her self-torments ended, her inhibitions vanished, her identity secure, the relief and welcome joy of a woman who accepts herself as what she is, and is content to be, and desires to be, a slave who hopes to be found pleasing by her master.

I recalled her from Ar, in her ornate, sumptuous robes, one of which might have cost a laborer a year’s wages, sometimes so casual about the hem, lifting it up a bit, as to examine the heel of a slipper, but exhibiting an ankle, or drawing back, against her, or smoothing, about her, a garment, in such a way that one might speculate about the line of a figure, or the turn of a hip, but, much more often, the carelessness with which a veil might have been disarranged, adjusted, or loosened. Doubtless she had thought to torment a common soldier, one farther beneath her than the very dust beneath her slippers. But now, under the lamp light in the corridor, she stood before me, a slave, far less now the dust beneath the poor laborer’s sandals, whose annual wages once might not have purchased one of her robes. I regarded her, collared, before me. There was no doubt now about her features, or her limbs, her rounded arms, her small hands, her thighs and calves, her ankles.

“Master views a slave,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“Does Master think of Ar?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am different now,” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

“It sounds as though there are pleasantries within the Venna keeping area,” she smiled.

“I think I will look upon these slaves,” I said.

“May I accompany Master?”

“Yes,” I said. “But stay close to me.”

“I shall, Master,” she said.

The great door, so often secured and locked, was now, the lock broken, swung back. I entered, followed by Alcinoe, close behind me, interestingly, on my left, but that is where a slave commonly follows a master.

I did not mind her behind me, on my left.

That was pleasant.

To be sure, sometimes a master has a slave precede him, that he may better observe her.

The area was low ceilinged, but not so low that a man could not stand upright. It was lit by several lamps. There were several fellows about, and several slaves. Some of the slaves had been put to their mats, and chained in place, but many were not yet secured. It seemed many fellows were reluctant to leave the area. Several dallied, even in the vicinity of the slaves who were already on their chains. “You are to secure them, no more,” said a minor officer. “They are not to be used. Not yet. Difficulties with the Pani would ensue. Lords Nishida and Okimoto would disapprove. They are ship slaves. You do not own them. Pose them, examine them, feel them, delight yourself with their beauty, put them through chain paces, if you wish, but know that their bodies will be examined. These are not tavern sluts. Beware the wrath of Lords Nishida and Okimoto. Do not dally overlong. It is best to be quick. Secure them, and go.”

“It seems,” I said to Alcinoe, “the fellows are not eager to return to the deck.”

Several of the slaves were standing, in examination position, legs widely spread, hands behind the back of their neck, or head. Others had been placed in the slave bow. Others, on their chains, were to react, as though struck, given a clap of hands. Some did so in terror. I gathered they had actually felt the whip. Others, to the rhythmic motion of a hand, writhed in their chains. Others endeavored to please the men, being put though slave paces.

“Do not dally overlong,” pleaded the officer. “Their bodies will be examined. Secure them, and hasten away!”

There was much laughter.

But the men understood that the slaves were not to be used. Few cared to perish beneath the blades of the Pani.

I saw more than one rape the lips of a beauty with the kiss of the master, and then cast her, chained, to her mat, and depart, despite her extending her hands futilely after him. Well then did she jerk at her chain, again and again, in frustration, which held her in place.

“It will doubtless be the same in the Kasra keeping area,” she whispered. “Will you protect me?”

“And who,” I said, “will protect you from me?”

“I do not want protection from you,” she said.

“You might make a nice armful of collar meat,” I said.

I considered her, luscious, hot, aroused.

“I would hope to please you,” she said.

Yes, I thought, she might be very nice.

To be sure, I must remember that she was nothing to me.

“You speak as a slave,” I said.

“I am no longer free,” she said. “I am a slave. Thus I may speak as I wish.”

“If given permission.”

“Of course,” she said.

“It seems you are beginning to feel your collar,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Next,” I said, “you will be on your belly, begging to lick and kiss the feet of a master.”

“May I so beg?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“That is a Kasra girl,” said one of the slaves, a chain running from her ankle to its ring. “She does not belong here!”

“I am better than you!” said Alcinoe

“You are not!” said the slave.

“I am!” said Alcinoe. “If you are so good, why are there no men lingering about you? In the Kasra area, men would linger about me!”

“Slave!” hissed the girl.

“Slave!” hissed Alcinoe.

“Come away,” I said to Alcinoe.

“I am better than she, am I not?” said Alcinoe.

“You are only a Kasra girl,” I told her.

“But, am I not?” she said.

“Yes,” I said, annoyed.

“Good,” she said, “and I am only a Kasra girl!”

“That may be told from your tunic,” I said. It was of low-quality rep-cloth, and, as noted, there was not much to it, not that I minded that.

“Beware the Pani!” called the officer.

Some two or three men left the keeping area.

“Where are the whip slaves?” I asked a fellow.

“Over there,” he said, casting a contemptuous thumb to the side.

I went a bit to the side, and there I found, prone, naked, bound hand and foot, the five large, gross whip slaves who, as first girls, served to keep the smaller, softer, more beautiful, more desirable slaves in order. To be sure, their power rested on their authority, and not on their coarseness, or bulk. They had had behind them the power of men. Three or four smaller women, together, might have overcome, perhaps in her sleep, bound, and beaten such women.

“I trust the whip slaves in the Kasra area,” said Alcinoe, “are similarly inconvenienced.”

“Probably,” I said.

“Good,” she said.

She had doubtless felt their switches frequently enough.

I pulled the head of one of the whip slaves up a little, and back. She whimpered. She was afraid. To men, she was only another woman, and one unlikely to be of interest. Between the teeth of each was bound a switch.

“You tried to stop the entrance of men into the area?” I asked.

The woman, her head held up and back by the hair, whimpered once.

“Do you wish to be turned over to the slaves not yet secured,” I asked, “to be lashed?”

She whimpered twice, pathetically.

I let her lower her head, stood up, and looked about.

The whip slaves doubtless feared the vengeance of the charges whom they had kept in such terror, over whom they had ruled with such cruelty.

Given their plainness, and grossness, they had something of the hatred of the free woman for the exquisitely feminine, muchly desired female slave, smaller and weaker, but so much their superior.

But once the slaves were chained, they had little to fear. When, later, they had been freed, by one officer or another, things would doubtless be much the same in the keeping area.

But perhaps not.

The men might come again.

The voyage might well be near its end, and, if that were the case, who knew what might ensue?

“Where are the hooded slaves?” asked Alcinoe.

It was quite unlikely they would be hooded now, in the area.

“They will be here, somewhere,” I said.

“We may have seen them,” said Alcinoe, “and, if so, they are not so extraordinary.”

“You sound like a Kasra girl,” I said, “a jealous one.”

“Master!” she protested.

“There must be another area,” I said.

Surely, somewhere, hoods would be stored.

I went toward the back of the keeping area. “There is a door here,” I said. It was not a holding door, but a light door, more for privacy, I supposed, than anything else. I slid back the bolt, and swung the door open. It was dark inside.

“Master,” I heard, from within, a woman’s voice. They could see it was a man, as the light was behind me. “What is going on?” asked the voice.

“Curiosity,” I told her, “is not becoming in a kajira.”

“Yes, Master,” said the voice, frightened.

“It is so dark,” said Alcinoe.

“I will fetch a lamp,” I said.

“You are curious, are you not?” she asked.

“Certainly,” I said. “Are you not, as well?”

“Yes,” she said. “I would look upon these allegedly fabulous creatures.”

I unhooked one of the small lamps from the ceiling of the larger, general portion of the Venna keeping area, and, lifting it a little, entered the smaller area, followed by Alcinoe.

Lifting the lamp more we discerned some twenty women in the special area. Each was at her mat, and secured there by her chain. When the general liberty, recently, had been accorded the slaves, the freedom of the deck, these women had remained below, it seemed, in the darkness of their area, secured.

“Look, Master,” said Alcinoe, pointing to a wall, to our left.

“Yes,” I said.

There, suspended by their neck buckles, placed over hooks, were several slave hoods, each with a small padlock and key, the padlock about the buckle, the key on a string, dangling from the lock. Also, nearby, on another hook, a larger hook, were several loops of rope, by means of which the slaves, when brought to the upper deck, were belly coffled.

The slaves, who were naked, as one commonly keeps slaves at their mats, were huddled, crouched down, bent over, covering themselves, as they could.

“Master is not authorized,” said one of the slaves. “Master must depart. We may not be looked upon.”

“Do you wish to be lashed?” I inquired.

“No, Master,” said the slave, hastily.

Though one of the slaves of the sheltered area, she was apparently familiar with the lash.

I looked about, as I could, in the light of the lamp. Some of the slaves had covered themselves completely with their small blankets; others gathered the blanket about their head and shoulders, and kept their heads down. Several, bent over, had brought their hair about their face, as a veil. Some, for whatever reason, perhaps discipline, had no blanket at hand. Their heads were down. Their small hands covered what they could of their beauty. Their knees were pressed firmly together.

Outside, in the larger area, I heard one or more men, perhaps apprehensive now, urging the others to make their departure.

I sensed some were leaving.

“I do not suppose they are so beautiful,” said Alcinoe.

“It is hard to tell, as they are,” I said.

“Should Master not consider departing?” said a slave.

“We are not to be looked upon,” said another.

“And why,” I asked, “are you not to be looked upon?”

“Because, Master,” said a slave, huddled in a blanket, “we are of such extraordinary beauty.”

“It seems,” I said, “that that would be a reason why you should be looked upon, as Masters find it pleasant to look upon beautiful slaves.”

“Please, Master,” said one of the slaves, bent over, her hair held about her face.

“Is it true that you are all so beautiful?” I asked.

“Certainly, Master,” said one of the slaves.

“We shall see,” I said.

“Master?” said a slave.

“Position!” I said.

“Master!” protested several.

“Need a command be repeated?” I asked.

With cries of misery, and sobs, the slaves, or most, went to position.

“Hold the lamp,” I said to Alcinoe.

She took the lamp.

“Please, no,” wept slave after slave.

I drew away blankets, which had not fallen about the slaves.

“Backs straight,” I said. “Lift your heads. Peer straight ahead. Shake the hair behind your shoulders.”

I looked about, from one slave to another.

It was pleasant to do so.

“Shoulders back,” I said. “Suck in your belly. Palms of your hands down on your thighs, firmly. Feel them there.”

“Please, Master,” sobbed a girl. “We are high slaves!”

“Many of us were once of high caste!” said another.

“Split your knees,” I said.

“Master!” wept a girl.

“Wider,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” they wept.

“Better,” I said, “better.”

Yes, it was pleasant to look upon them.

I thought them quite nice.

Alcinoe followed me about with the lamp.

“What do you think, Alcinoe?” I asked.

“Average,” said Alcinoe. “I see little that is extraordinary here.”

Some of the girls gasped in indignation.

“There is some gold here,” I said.

“Yes, Master!” said more than one of the slaves.

“Not much,” said Alcinoe.

“Many are beautiful,” I said. “But that is common with women whom men find worth putting on a chain.”

“Beautiful enough, I suppose,” said Alcinoe, with a toss of her hair which might have caused bids to surge. How right, I thought, how perfect, that women such as she were put in collars.

“It is true,” I said, “that I see little justification for hooding.”

“Master!” protested a slave.

“There is nothing special about high-caste slaves,” I said. “They are often purchased to be put to lowly duties, and thrash at the slave ring.”

“I wonder if any of these slaves are hot,” said Alcinoe. I thought this was an interesting remark, considering that Alcinoe, at least as far as I knew, was white silk.

“If they are not now,” I said, “they will soon become so, in the hands of masters.”

“Please, Master,” protested one of the slaves.

“As your beauty, while remarkable,” I said, “does not seem all that unusual for slaves, I am supposing that there is another reason for your hooding.”

“Master?” said one of the slaves.

“It is perhaps to conceal identities,” I said. “Perhaps, say, in Ar, there is a bounty, for your return.”

I heard a rattling of chain.

This reaction told me much of what I wanted to know. Hundreds of high-caste women, associated with the party of treason, must have fled Ar, many of whom, far from its Home Stone, might, as had the former Lady Flavia of Ar, fallen into bondage. Many may have had their hair shorn and begged retreating soldiers, of Tyros and Cos, and of the free companies, to take them with them, not as inconvenient, troublesome free women, but as begging, complaisant slaves. Others who had accompanied the retreat as free women might have found themselves eventually sold in the western ports, in particular, in Brundisium, where the Pani seem to have purchased most of their slaves for the voyage. The Pani, of course, would not have realized, in most cases, that there were bounties in the offing, and, had they realized it, they were, apparently, not much interested in such things. They were apparently more interested in what might be done with the women on the far side of Thassa. It was something there that they wanted them for. And, I supposed, not all of the women, and perhaps only a few, might be wanted in Ar. Of the women who had spoken, only two had had an accent which suggested Ar. Accordingly, it seemed clear to me that there must be a different purpose behind the hooding. Alcinoe, for example, whose identity might have been suspected by more than one fellow on the ship, had not been hooded. Too, if the Pani had any interest in bounties, and such, the last thing they would have done would be to transport such women far from Ar. The Pani wanted beauty, not gold, of which it seemed they had a good deal.

So why then, I asked myself, would these women, those of a particular group, housed in the Venna keeping area, have been hooded?

“Well,” I said to Alcinoe, looking about, “what do you think?”

“Perhaps, Master,” said Alcinoe, “they were not hooded for beauty, but, rather, to conceal their plainness.”

“Master!” protested several of the slaves.

“Beat her, Master!” urged one.

“These are obviously beautiful slaves,” I said, “high-grade merchandise, which would bring good coin off the block, but, as you have suggested, I see no particular reason for their hooding.”

“Surely,” said Alcinoe, “several of the other slaves, of the Venna keeping area, never hooded, are every bit as beautiful.”

“Yes,” I said.

I could remember that from the deck.

“And doubtless some of the Kasra keeping area, as well,” she added.

“Yes,” I said.

I could remember several of them, as well.

Alcinoe, I thought, was fetching in the Kasra tunic, what there was of it.

“Bring the lamp,” I said to Alcinoe.

“Hold position,” I said to the slaves.

“Perhaps we should leave, Master,” said Alcinoe. “I think the men have left the outer area.”

I looked about.

“Follow me,” I said.

In the special area, that devoted to the slaves who would be brought hooded to the upper deck, there were twenty slaves, as I determined, arranged in five rows of four each. I went toward the back of

the special area, on the right.

Each slave was in position.

“Perhaps we should hurry, Master,” said Alcinoe.

“Follow me,” I said.

Alcinoe followed, with the lamp.

“Master?” said Alcinoe.

“I have not well examined this last row of slaves,” I said.

I began with the one farthest to the right, drawing her head back, by the hair, that I might examine her features in the light of the lamp.

“She is nice, is she not?” I said to Alcinoe.

“Perhaps,” said Alcinoe.

I released the girl’s hair, that she might return to position.

I similarly examined the next two girls.

“Lovely,” I said of each.

Of the first Alcinoe suggested that her value might be improved, if she could play the lyre. Of the second, Alcinoe wondered if slavers might be more interested in her, if she could dance.

“Can you dance?” I asked the girl.

“The flower dance of the free maiden,” she said, frightened, her head held back, by the hair.

“Then you do not know the dances of begging slaves,” I said.

“No, Master,” she said. Such dances are often taught to the snapping of a whip.

“After you are in the hands of a master,” I said, “you may beg to learn such dances.”

“Master?” she said.

“To be more pleasing,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

I wondered if Alcinoe could learn slave dance. I thought so. Such dance is instinctual in a woman. I had little doubt that many lives had been saved, after the fall of a city, by a naked captive’s supplicatory writhings before its conquerors.

We came then to the last slave, on her chain.

Oddly, she cried out in fear, broke position, and bent over, shuddering, covering herself, as she could, with her hands.

“Bring the lamp closer,” I said to Alcinoe.

By the hair, I drew up the head of the slave, and she, interestingly, tried to turn to the side, and, neglecting her body, covered her face with her hands.

To be sure, many women fear face stripping more than body stripping. The face, after all, with its subtleties of expression, is uniquely personal, particularly revelatory, and especially revealing. A woman’s face, exquisite, delicate, and beautiful, commonly so different from that of a man, unveiled, is vulnerable and defenseless, a window into her emotions and thoughts, into her heart and needs, a window that puts her ever the more helplessly in a man’s power. A saying has it, bare the face, bare the woman. Another well-known saying is, remove the veil of a free woman and look upon the face of a slave. So it is no wonder that the free woman is concerned with her veiling. But this was a slave. Slaves are not permitted to conceal their faces. Their faces must be naked, and all are to be free to look upon them. Would it not be absurd to veil a verr, or kaiila? Such an inhibition seldom lasts past a girl’s first switching. And soon a slave, the vain creature that she is, delights as shamelessly in the exhibition of her features as of her form. And perhaps more so. It is the whole of her, after all, marvelous and wondrous, that is collared.

So why would this slave have attempted to conceal her face?

“Position,” I said to her, soothingly.

She then knelt.

“Split your knees,” I said to her gently.

I released her hair, and, with a hand on each knee, widened them.

She still had her hands before her face. She was trembling.

“Lift up the lamp,” I said to Alcinoe.

I then, gently, put a hand on each of her wrists.

“Please, no, please, no,” she said.

“Master?” I asked.

“Please, no, Master,” she begged. “Please, no, Master!”

I then, as she sobbed, pulled her hands away from her face.

“Aii!” cried Alcinoe, softly.

“Position,” I said to the slave, soothingly, and she put her hands down on her thighs, looking straight ahead.

“Collared!” said Alcinoe.

I took the collar in both hands, turned it, examined the lock, and then, a bit roughly, turned it back into place, so that the lock was at the back of the neck.

“Yes,” I said, “and perfectly.”

It was a common ship’s collar.

I then rose up, bade the slaves be as they would, and, followed by Alcinoe, left the special area, and, in a moment, the larger area, as well.

In a bit we had come to the Kasra keeping area, within which its whip slaves had been served similarly to those of the higher area, bound naked, hand and foot, prone, their switches tied between their teeth.

The other slaves of the Kasra area were on their chains, and most were asleep.

“This is your mat?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, that we not disturb the others.

“Master!” she said, suddenly, frightened.

I cautioned her to silence.

“Strip, kajira,” I said to her.

“Strip?” she said.

“Yes,” I said.

She put aside the bit of cloth which had been granted her.

“Now,” I said, “on all fours, on the mat.”

It was a thick, well-plaited mat, narrow. I then picked up the chain, attached to its ring, and snapped it about her ankle, the left ankle.

“Now, turn around,” I said, “and lie down, on your belly.”

I stood up for a few moments, regarding her. Then, suddenly I crouched down beside her, pulled her up, turned her, rudely, and, with a rattle of chain, forced my lips to hers.

I then flung her back on the mat, on her belly, and exited the Kasra keeping area.

I then went to my quarters.

I was much troubled.

I had seen Talena, of Ar.

I recalled, too, we had come to land.