Slave Girl Of Gor

21
A Convoy Departs From The Harbor Of Telnus; I Appear On The Cargo Manifest Of One Of Its Ships

I scarcely noticed as my wrists were braceleted behind my back. I wore a brief, yellow slave tunic, of closely woven rep-cloth. I stood near the gate of the Chatka and Curla.

"Come, Yata," said Strabo, taking his direction toward the wharves.

I, barefoot, braceleted, head down, followed him.

I knew now that I truly loved Clitus Vitellius of Ar. Yet to my misery I had betrayed him. How I would if I could have undone that deed. How I would if I could have tried to pit my small strength against the heavy oar which he would now draw. I would if I could have changed places with him. Better that I, if I could, be chained to a bench, an oarsman slave, than he. I, a worthless slave girl, in her vanity and pettiness, had laid low not a warrior, but my own beloved. What mattered it that he cared naught for me, that I was but rude collar meat in his mighty hands? It mattered nothing. I loved him more deeply than I realized one could love. He had stirred such emotion, such rage, such hatred, in me that I would not have believed it possible. I had lived for my vengeance, dreaming of it, and, when I had attained it, I found it only misery and ashes, and unspeakable anguish, for it had cost me my very self, he whom I loved, Clitus Vitellius of the city of Ar.

The men in the tavern, and the girls, too, had been pleased that I had designated Clitus Vitellius. How excited and pleased all had been. "You did well," they assured me. I had been thrown a pastry. But, alone with myself, I wept with misery.

I had not known I could so love. I would have given all to undo that deed.

He had not treated me well, but it did not matter. All that mattered was that I loved him.

Yet I had betrayed him.

How small a thing it was that he had sported with me and then, in his simple cruelty, given me to a peasant. Did I not know I was a slave girl? What did I expect? To be treated as a free woman? How vast a thing, how vicious and disproportionate it was that I, a mere slave girl, for so small a fault, if fault it was, had sentenced him to the tortures of the galleys.

I had done well! I cried out in anguish. I loved him. I loved him!

I should have served him in the tavern, and then kissed him farewell, surrendering him to his glory and freedom, I remaining behind, forgotten, a girl whom once he had owned and discarded. I could then have known him free.

Would it not have been enough?

But I had betrayed him, he whom I loved.

Strabo turned and looked at me.

"Forgive me, Master," I said. I had moaned with anguish.

We continued on our way toward the wharves.

The night I had betrayed Clitus Vitellius I had been beaten. I had failed miserably to please the drunken sailor.

Twice later, too, on ensuing nights, I had been beaten. "You seem to be worthless as a paga girl," had said Aurelion of Cos, my master.

"Forgive me, Master," I had said.

"It is perhaps time," said he, "to return you to Ar."

I could now smell fish and salt, for we were quite near the wharves. Between buildings I could see galleys at their moorings. We descended toward the wharves.

I no longer wore the black, enameled, belled collar, and snide ring, of the Chatka and Curla.

I heard men shouting, and saw them running. There seemed excitement below.

I now wore a ship collar, of locked steel, gray, with its destination tag. The tag, I had been told, read: "Send me to the Lady Elicia of Ar, of Six Towers."

I had betrayed Clitus Vitellius of Ar. I could not have hated him so much had I not loved him so deeply.

I had betrayed him, he whom I loved!

Strabo took me by the arm. This puzzled me, as I was braceleted. He pulled me through the crowd. Men ran here and there. The fire of white smoke had been lit near the shield pole, though it was not yet noon. I heard an alarm bar ringing. On the height of the shield pole there was hoisted a scarlet disk.

"Come," said Strabo, making his way through the crowds, holding my arm.

"Escape!" I heard.

"They have escaped!" cried a man.

"They have escaped!" cried another man.

I saw guardsmen hurrying by, with shields and spears. People stood on roofs.

"Who has escaped?" I cried.

The alarm bar rang steadily. Strabo pulled me through the crowds, and conducted me swiftly toward one of the wharves.

"Who has escaped?" I cried.

"Kneel," he said.

I knelt near the foot of the gangplank, leading to the deck of a ramship, the Jewel of Jad. Such ships are sometimes used for merchant service. They carry much less cargo than a round ship, but lean and shallow-drafted, they are much faster.

Strabo conferred quickly with one of the ship's officers, one who held a cargo manifest. Strabo indicated me. The man nodded.

"Stand," said Strabo.

I stood.

He then thrust me up the gangplank, onto the deck of the ship. It was some twenty feet wide.

Strabo gave the ship's officer the key to my collar, and the officer placed it in his pouch.

The officer then gestured to one of the sailors, and indicated me with his head. The man fetched a set of light ship chains. I stood, and felt ankle rings snapped on my ankles, joined by some twelve inches of chain; another chain, attached to this chain, was some three feet in length, and terminated with light manacles. Strabo unbraceleted me, dropping the bracelets and their key back in his pouch. The sailor then, lifting the vertical chain behind me, fastened me in the light manacles. My ankles, then, were chained, and, joined to them by the vertical chain, behind me, were my chained wrists.

"I wish you well, Slave Girl," said Strabo.

"I wish you well, Master," I said. He then left. I saw the gangplank drawn up. From the wharf, moorings were cast off. I saw three sailors, with long poles, edging the ship from the wharf. Oarsmen, free sailors, sat upon the benches. The helmsmen, two of them, were in their places. The oar master stood below the helmsman. On the small, high stern deck, I saw the captain. Slowly, gently, the ship began to move from the wharf. An oar count would not be given until clear of the wharfage. The lateen sail would not be dropped until clear of the harbor gates.

On the wharves men seemed still agitated. I saw more guardsmen. The alarm bar yet rang. White smoke billowed from the platform near the shield pole, from whose height now swung a scarlet disk.

I went to the rail of the ship. The cargo officer was there. Other ships, too, I saw were edging from their wharves. We would sail in convoy.

"Who has escaped, Master?" I asked.

"Have you not heard?" he asked.

"No, Master," I said.

"A chain of twenty men of Ar," he said.

"How could they escape?" I asked. I was sure these must be the same men I had seen some days ago on the wharves, when, later, I had encountered my master, Clitus Vitellius.

"They were freed by an escaped prisoner," he said. "They fought like larls," he said.

"What prisoner freed them?" I asked.

"One called Clitus Vitellius," he said.

I trembled on the deck. I thought I might faint. The joy I felt was incredible.

"They were last seen," said the officer, "heading for a paga tavern, the Chatka and Curla."

I said nothing, but trembled.

"It seems," said he, "a slut there betrayed their leader, Clitus Vitellius." He laughed cruelly. "I would not wish to be she," he said.

"The vengeance of a girl," I had said to Clitus Vitellius, "is not a light thing."

"Neither," had said he, looking at me, "is the vengeance of a warrior."

I had shrunk back, frightened.

"Take him away," had said Aurelion of Cos, my master. He had been conducted from the tavern.

"He is a warrior of Ar," said the ship's officer, standing near me. "I would not wish to be that slave girl."

I looked at the wharf, which seemed to drift gently away from us.

"Did you know her?" he asked. He knew I had come from the Chatka and Curla.

"Yes, Master," I said. "But he will not find her at the Chatka and Curla. She was sent away."

"Good fortune," said he, "for the treacherous slut."

"Yes, Master," I said.

The bow of the Jewel of Jad turned toward the gate of the harbor. There were eyes, two large eyes, one on each side of the bow. They were outlined in black; their interior was blue; their pupils were black. They looked toward the harbor gate. I heard the call of the oar master. "Ready oars!" The oars slid through the thole ports "Stroke!" he called. The oars, in unison, twenty on each side, dipped into the waters of the harbor, drew and lifted, the water falling from them in bright droplets, splashing back into the harbor.

I was indescribably happy, though, too, I was apprehensive. Clitus Vitellius was free, and had men.

The officer was looking at me. I was chained at his side. "You are the only slave girl on board," he said.

I looked at him, and laughed delightedly. He looked at me, puzzled.

"I will be a wonder to you, Master," I laughed. "I will be a wonder to you!"

He lifted the brief skirt of the yellow slave tunic to my left hip. "You are a Dina," he said.

"Yes, Master," I said.

"I have heard Dinas are good," he said.

"We are fabulous, Master!" I laughed. "We are Slave Flowers."

He laughed at the pun.

"We shall test your boasting later, little Dina," he said.

I tried to press myself against him. I wanted to feel my body in his arms, his. Suddenly, Clitus Vitellius free, and with men, the world seemed open and glorious again. Again, suddenly, I rejoiced in the beauty of men and my slavery to them. Again, almost making me want to cry out with joy, I felt their attractiveness irresistibly and deeply. Again, suddenly, I felt myself helpless and owned by them, loving and helpless to their least touch and command.

I tried to lift my lips to the officer, but he held me from him. "What a slave you are," he laughed.

"Yes, Master," I said.

Again I could not help my responsiveness to men, true men, Gorean men. To an Earth girl, accustomed to the hypocrisy and weakness of the men of Earth, their shame, their inhibitions and pretenses, the Gorean male, in his honesty, his power, his lust, his manhood, is a hurricane of joy. Clitus Vitellius, I knew, had been angry that I could not help but respond to men, scorning me for this rightly, perhaps, as the slave and slut I was, but I did not care. Though any Gorean male might make me, in spite of myself, a panting, orgasmic slave in his arms, I knew it had been only he, Clitus Vitellius, whom I had truly loved, and yet loved. In his arms I had always been the most helpless. He was my love master.

The officer gestured to the sailor who had first chained me, and he approached.

"Though you are the only girl on hoard," said the officer, "do not think that you will be treated easily."

"No, Master," I said. I knew I was a slave girl.

"Take her below decks," he said, "and chain her by the neck to a ring."

The sailor threw me over his shoulder. I knew I would be kept below decks until late, chained, that my needs might grow even keener and more frustrated.

Then, when I was whimpering, I would be pulled to the deck.