Fighting Slave of Gor

20 I LEARN THAT THE MISTRESS WILL HAVE HOUSE GUESTS

I reeled back, sprawling in the sand. I could feel blood about my mouth.

I grunted, kicked. He threw himself at me, fists striking.

I heard the screams of the crowd, in the tiers. I rolled to one side, eluding the attacker.

I staggered up. He, too, then, was on his feet. I tried, gasping, to thrust him away. He struck me in the gut with his head, driving me half to the wall. He again lowered his head. I clasped my hands, and flung them upward, catching him under the chin and he staggered backward. I spit blood into the sand. He again rushed at me, seizing me, and flung me against the low palings. "Fight! Fight!" I heard. "Jason!" I heard. "Kaibar!" I heard. "Now you have him!" I heard. "Get away from the wall!" Kenneth was screaming. The slave, Kaibar, then, of the stables of Shandu, holding his hands together, slashing sideways, struck me with his left elbow, and then his right. "Get away from the wall!" I heard. I grunted, taking a blow in the gut and then another, the fists now, like battering rams. "Get away from the wall!" screamed Kenneth. But it was not he, the bastard, who was pinned against it. I clenched Kaibar, holding to him, gasping. He tried to shake me from him. "Do not delay the fight!" Warned the referee, moving about us. I felt his whip lash at me. Then he was between us, forcing us apart. But I was now in the center of the pit. Kaibar and I faced one another. We were both bloody, and exhausted. He struck at me with his balled fist. I blocked the blow. He was strong. My arms ached. Even to parry the blows of a strong man takes its toll.

My shoulders and arms- ached. I could scarcely lift them. Kaibar staggered toward me again. Again I seized him, holding to him.

We heard then the bar being struck.

"Here!" called Kenneth. I, turning about, followed the sound of his voice and in a moment he had seized me and pulled me down on the box. Bares, with a sponge, dipped in a bucket, squeezed water over my head.

"You are doing splendidly," Kenneth assured me.

I could not even answer him.

Bares sponged sand and blood from my body.

"Drink," said Kenneth to Taphris, who knelt at our side.

She thrust the bottle filled with water, thick with sugar, to Kenneth who, holding it for me, poured some of it down my throat. I spit the rest of it away into the sand. Kenneth pushed the bottle back to Taphris.

Bares now toweled my body. Weakly I pushed him away. The sweat and water on my body, I hoped, would tend to slide blows away, were they struck at oblique angles.

He then dried the leather on my fists, that it would grip when it struck flesh.

The bar was again struck, a sharp, ringing note.

"You have him now," said Kenneth. "Finish him quickly."

I was half thrust to my feet and staggered toward the center of the pit. Kenneth, I decided, was insane. Yet he had seen hundreds of such bouts.

I took the first blow, staggering to the side. I straightened and, stumbling, smashed my fist into the gut of Kaibar. He reached for me, and I struck aside his hands, and struck him on the left side of the face. We stood in the sand, unsteadily.

"Fight!" cried the referee. "Fight!" cried the crowd. The crowd, mostly, was an excited and motely assortment of low caste males, but, here and there, there were veiled women amongst them, generally these, too, of low caste. There were, in favored seats, some upper-caste Goreans, recognizable by the colors and qualities of their robes, and among these, here and there, heavily veiled, erect and lovely, some upper-caste women. At one end of the enclosure, where it was entered, there was a barred gate. Behind this, pressed against it, watching, excited, holding to the bars, were collared, halfnaked slave girls, stable sluts, crying out for the champions of their various stables.

"Fight!" cried the referee. His lash fell on Kaibar.

I suddenly felt chilled. I realized then I should have permitted Bares to towel my body, drying it. I feared I might be seized with muscle cramps. The sweat and water, too, now that I had paused, sticky on my hot body, formed an adhesive surface which I feared might hold the leather of Kaibar.

"Fight!" cried the referee. His lash stung my back. The referee's lash again then fell on Kaibar, and again on me.

Kaibar and I again staggered toward one another. I had survived the eighteenth fighting period.

Then suddenly it seemed that the gunni were again on my hands and that I stood in the training barn before the great post. I could hear, but only as in the distance, the crying of the crowd, the screaming of the women, slave and free. I must work against time. Did not Kenneth hold the vial of sand? Blows it seemed I rained with an avalanche of lead on the reeling post shuddering in its braces. I must beat the sand. I could, and would. I lunged against the post, inches from it, blow after blow. Then spitting blood from my mouth, my legs covered to the knees with sweat and sand, pounding, laughing, exultant, terrible, I saw the post shatter away, falling from me.

"Stop! Stop!" was crying Kenneth. He ran to me, holding me. I stood bloody in the sand. At my feet, bloody, covered with sand, unconscious, lay Kaibar.

"Is he dead?" someone was crying.

"No," called the referee.

I was dragged to the center of the sand and my hands, one by the referee, the other by Kenneth, the trainer, were lifted in victory.

I threw back my head, sucking in air. My hands were swollen. The bloodied leather was cut from my hands.

"I shall have a champion who can beat your Jason!" cried Miles of Vonda, from the side of the wall.

"Bring him then forth!" cried Kenneth. "The stables of the Lady Florence of Vonda will await him!"

I had beaten the champion of the stables of Miles of Vonda two weeks ago. It had been that match which had established my precedence among the fighting slaves of the stables in the vicinity of Vonda. It had been that match which had resulted in my being named the local champion. This victory had not set well with Miles of Vonda. It was not merely that his own champion had been defeated and that he had lost a goodly bit of coin on the wagering involved, but that he had been, in the past, like several other young swains in the vicinity, an unsuccessful suitor, in the matter of the companionship, for the hand of the Lady Florence of Vonda.

I was half dragged, half pushed, by a crowd, Kenneth and Barus close to me, Taphris behind, through the barred gate leading to the sand pit. Another match, to hold the interest of the crowd, would soon be beginning. I pressed through people, slave and free, who pressed about me, congratulating me, many trying to touch me, even free persons. Slave girls, their eyes bright, their breath hot, tried to press themselves piteously against me. Some fell to their knees as I passed, trying to seize my legs and kiss at my thighs and ankles as I passed. Women know that they are the natural spoils of conquering males. I saw even the eyes of free women bright and wild over their veils.

"Well done, Jason," said Kenneth. "Well done."

We heard the striking of the long bar from near the pit. Another match was beginning.

We walked around, behind the tiers, still Pressing through an admiring throng. Slave girls pattered behind, hoping for another look, but fearful now, away from the gate, of jostling free persons.

"Back," begged Kenneth, "back! Return to the tiers!"

We were now near the corridor gate leading from the small arena, to the stables where we were prepared for combat.

"The Mistress!" said Kenneth.

I looked up. Before us, standing, near the corridor gate, were two free women, veiled, in flowing. lovely robes.

Swiftly I knelt. I was owned by one of these women.

"Congratulations, Jason," said the Lady Florence of Vonda. "You did well."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said. I looked up at her. My throat was locked in her collar. I was still breathing heavily.

Though she was robed and veiled I would have recognized her, of course, from her eyes, her attitude, the lineaments of her body. Silk slaves recognize the bodies of their mistresses, even when they are robed and veiled, with much the same ease with which a master recognizes the bodies of his slaves. Too, I had, as I had learned on Gor, a good eye for woman flesh. Too, to my amazement, I recognized the woman who stood beside her.

"May I present, Kenneth," said the Lady Florence of Vonda, "my dear friend, the Lady Melpomene of Vonda."

"I am charmed, Lady Melpomene," said Kenneth, bowing.

"Jason," said the Lady Florence, "perhaps you remember my good friend, the Lady Melpomene of Vonda, my city."

"Yes, Mistress," I said, putting my head down.

"We have patched up our differences, Jason," said the Lady Florence, "and we are now the best, and fastest, of friends."

"I am pleased to hear that, Mistress," I said.

"Lady Melpomene will be staying with us for two or three days," said the Lady Florence. "And, soon, we shall have some house guests."

"Yes, Mistress," I said.

"You will see that the grounds, and the stables, are tidy, won't you, Kenneth?" asked the Lady Florence.

"Surely, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.

"And you will keep the stable sluts on their chains, won't you?" she asked.

"As Lady Florence wishes," said Kenneth.

"We would not wish the sight of them to embarrass or offend our guests."

"No, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.

"Oh, Kenneth," asked the Lady Florence, "is the new girl working out?"

"Yes, Lady Florence," he said.

"What is her name?" she asked, absently.

"Taphris," said Kenneth.

"Oh, yes!" she said. "Is she doing well?"

"Yes," said Kenneth, "she has the makings of a superb stable slut."

"Oh," said the Mistress.

Taphris, in her stable collar, reddening, gasping, shrank back.

"It seems her tunic has been torn," said the Lady Florence, "and, too, it seems her hair has been cut."

Taphris, with two hands, tried to pull together the sides of her tunic, but it did her little good. She was now as exposed as any stable slut. Kenneth had seen to that. The Mistress' spy was now only a dream of pleasure to any man who might lay eyes upon her.

"Surely Mistress recognizes that her tunic is now more fit for the arduous and crude labors of the stable slut than before."

"Of course," said Lady Florence.

"And her hair had value," said Kenneth, "so, as she is merely a stable slut, I saw fit to shear it."

"Of course," said the Lady Florence. She would not interfere, of course, with Kenneth's management of the slaves.

Kenneth smiled.

"Again, Jason," said the Lady Florence, turning away from Kenneth, "permit me to congratulate you on your victory."

"Thank you, Mistress," I said.

"I did not know, Lady Florence," said Kenneth, "that you were a partisan of the bouts."

"I am not," she said. "It is only that the Lady Melpomene and I thought it might be amusing, for the afternoon, to see how some of those of the lower castes see fit to spend their time."

"I see," said Kenneth. "Did Lady Florence enjoy the bouts?" he asked.

"As a woman of taste, and one of refined sensibility," she said, "I could not enjoy them."

"I see," said Kenneth.

"They are far too brutal," she said. She turned to the Lady Melpomene. "How did you find them, my dear?" she inquired.

"Disgusting, simply disgusting," said the Lady Melpomene, quickly.

"Most disgusting of all, perhaps," said the Lady Florence, "was the disgraceful sight of those half-naked slave girls pawing after the fighters."

"Yes," said the Lady Melpomene.

"They are only slaves," pointed out Kenneth.

"This is true," admitted the Lady Florence.

"Yes," said the Lady Melpomene. "What can one expect of collared sluts?"

"I wonder, though, what it would be like to feel such emotion," mused the Lady Florence.

"They wear only a rag and a collar," said the Lady Melpomene. "They are owned. They must serve. They are not permitted pride. Under such circumstances it is doubtless easy to feel emotion"

"Perhaps," shuddered the Lady Florence.

"With your permission, Lady Florence," said Kenneth, "I would like to get Jason to the stall, that we may dry and warm him. He is hot and sweaty. I do not wish him to take a chill."

"I trust you take as good care of my tharlarion as you do of your fighters," said the Lady Florence.

"Of course," grinned Kenneth.

"You may kiss my feet, Jason," said the Lady Florence I bent, putting my lips to her slippers, kissing them. "Now those of the Lady Melpomene," she said. Again I bent, this time pressing my lips to the slippers of the Lady Melpomene, too, kissing them.

"He has become a sturdy brute, hasn't he?" asked the Lady Florence.

I lifted my head.

"And a handsome brute, too." she said.

"Come, Jason," said Kenneth, drawing me to my feet. He half pushed me down the corridor.

"Kenneth!" called the Lady Florence.

Kenneth stopped and turned.

"Is he to be rewarded?" she asked.

"Surely," said Kenneth. "Was it not a splendid performance? Did he not do excellently?"

"Double rations, and wine," she said.

"Of course," said Kenneth.

I was angry.

"And no slut!" she said, clearly.

"He is a male slave, a fighter," protested Kenneth. "He needs a collared slut squirming in his arms. He has earned her."

"No slut," she said.

"Let me at least chain Taphris at his side," said Kenneth. "She is the least of the sluts, and has been shorn."

Taphris shrank back.

"No, Kenneth," said the Lady Florence. "Do not give him a woman."

"He is a man," said Kenneth. "He needs meat and a slave girl."

"He is not to be given a woman," she said. "Is that clearly understood, Kenneth?"

"Yes, Lady Florence," he said, angrily.

"Kenneth," she said.

"Yes, Lady Florence," he said.

"I will later find a slut for him," she said. "I have a slut in mind."

Kenneth looked at her, puzzled. "Very well, Lady Florence," he said. Then he turned about, to thrust me ahead of him down the corridor, I looked back, seeing again, at the gate, the Lady Florence and, beside her, the Lady Melpomene. Then I yielded to the pressure of Kenneth's arm and was guided down the corridor, toward the stall set aside for our fighters. Bares was close behind us, and then Taphris. Back, behind the gate, from the tiers, I could hear shouting. Another match was in progress.