Magicians of Gor (6 page)

bowl beside her, she had been put through fierce, severe, uncompromising slave

paces. Once, when she had seemed for an instant hesitant, I had even cuffed her.

“I want to be your slave,” she said. “Please buy me!”

I considered her. She was certainly a hot slave.

“Please, Master,” she begged.

“Are you finished?” asked a fellow behind me.

I looked again at the female, luscious, collared, on the mat.

“Please buy me!” she begged.

I considered my purposes in coming to Ar, the dangers that would be involved.

“I do not think it would be practical,” I said.

She sobbed.

“You are finished?” asked the fellow, again.

“Yes,” I said.

“Master!” she wept.

As I left, slinging about me my accouterments, I heard a new coin entered into

the copper bowl.

Some peasants were to one side. Every now and then, presumably at some joke, or

recounted anecdote, perhaps one about some tax collector thrown in a well, they

would laugh uproariously.

A fellow brushed past me, drawing behind him two slaves, their wrists extended

before them, closely together, pulled forward, the lead chains attached to their

wrist shackles.

I was looking about for Marcus and Phoebe.

(pg. 36) I glanced over to the walls of Ar, some hundred or so yards away,

rearing up in the darkness. Here and there fires were lit on the walls, beacons

serving to guide tarnsmen. The last time I had been to Ar, that time I had

received the spurious message, to be delivered to Aemilianius, in Ar’s Station,

there had been no need of yellow ostraka, or permits, to enter the city. Such

devices, or precautions, had in the interim apparently been deemed necessary,

doubtless for purposes of security or to control the number of refugees pouring

into the city which, even earlier, had been considerable. Many had slept in the

streets. I had rented, at that time, a room in the insula of streets. One

permitted residence in Ar received the identificatory ostrakon, for example,

citizens, ambassadors, resident aliens, trade agents, and such, was a function

of heir owner’s possession of such ostraka. Others might enter the city on

permits, usually for the day, commencing at dawn and concluding at sundown.

Records were kept of visitors. A visitor whose permit had expired was the object

of the search of guardsmen. Too, guardsmen might, at their option, request the

presentation of either ostraka or permits. Ostaka were sometimes purchased

illegally. Sometimes men killed for them. The nature of the ostraka, for

example, taking different colors, being recoded, and so on.

I saw some fellows gathered about a filled, greased wineskin. There was much

laughter. I went over to watch. He who manages to balance on it for a given

time, usually an Ehn, wins both the skin and its contents. One pays a tarsk bit

for the chance to compete. It is extremely difficult, incidentally, to balance

on such an object, not only because of the slickness of the skin, heavily coated

with grease, but even more so because if its rotundity and unpredictable

movements, the wine surging within in. “Aii!” cried a fellow flailing about and

then spilling from its surface. There was much laughter. “Who is next?” called

the owner of the skin. This sort of thing is a sport common at peasant

festivals, incidentally, thought there, of course, usually far from a city,

within the circle of the palisade, the competition is free, the skin and wine

being donated by one fellow or another, usually as his gift to the festival to

which all in one way or another contribute, for example, by the donations of

produce, meat or firewood. At such festivals there are often various games, and

contests and prizes. Archery is popular with the peasants and combats with the

great staff. Sometimes there (pg. 37) is a choice of donated prizes for the

victors. For example, a bolt of red cloth, a tethered verr or a slave. More than

one urban girl, formerly a perfumed slave, sold into the countryside, who held

herself above peasants, despising them for their supposed filth and stink, had

found herself, kneeling and muchly roped, among such a set of prizes. And, to

her chagrin, she is likely to find that she is not the first chosen.

I was brushed by a fellow in the darkness. While I could still see him I checked

my wallet. It was there, intact. The two usual modalities in which such folks

work are to cut the strings of the wallet from the belt, carrying it away, or to

slit the bottom of the wallet, allowing the contents to slip into their hand.

Both actions require skill.

I saw a line of five slave girls, kneeling, abreast, their hands tied behind

their back. bits of meat were thrown to them, one after the other. A catch

scored two points for the master. A missed piece might be sought by any of the

girls, scrambling about, on their bellies. She who managed to obtain it received

one point for her master. The girls were encouraged from the sidelines, not only

by their masters but by the crowd as well, some of whom placed bets on the

outcome.

“Would you like to purchase a yellow ostrakon?” asked a fellow. I had hardly

heard him. I looked about, regarding him. His hood was muchly pulled about his

face. Were his offer genuine, I would indeed be eager to purchase such an

object.

“Such are valuable,” I said.

“Only a silver tarsk,” he said.

“Are you a resident of Ar?” I asked.

“I am leaving the city,” he said. “I fear Cos.”

“But Cos is to be met and defeated on the march to Ar,” I said.

“I am leaving the city,” he said. “I have no longer a need for the ostrakon.”

“Let me see it,” I said.

Surreptitiously, scarcely opening his hand, he showed it to me.

“Bring it here, by the light,” I said.

Unwillingly he did so. I took it from his hand.

“Do not show it about so freely,” he whispered.

I struck him heavily in the gut and he bent over, and sank to his knees. He put

down his head. He gasped. He threw up into the dirt near the fire.

“If you cannot hold your paga, go elsewhere,” growled a peasant.

The fellow, in pain, in confusion, in agony, looked up at me.

(pg. 38) “It is indeed a yellow ostrakon,” I said, “and oval in shape, as are

the current ostraka.”

“Pay me,” he gasped.

“Only this morning I was at the sun gate,” I told him, “where the current lists

are posted, the intent of which is to preclude such fraud as you would

perpetrate.”

“No,” he said.

“The series of this ostrakon,” I said, “was discontinued, probably months ago.”

“No,” he said.

“You could have retrieved from a carnarium,” I said. This was one of the great

refuse pits outside the walls.

I broke the ostrakon in two and cast the pieces into the fire.

“Begone,” I said to the fellow.

He staggered to his feet and, bent over, hobbled quickly away. I had not killed

him.

“They may have to give up ostraka,” said the peasant sitting cross-legged by the

fire.

“Why?” I asked.

“It is dangerous to carry them,” he said. “Too many folks are killed for them.”

“What then will Ar do?” I asked.

“I think she will shut her gates,” he said.

“But her forces are interposed between her gates and Cos,” I said.

“True,” said the peasant.

I then continued my search for Marcus and Phoebe. He was, of course, quite proud

of her. I did not doubt but what he was now circulating about, seemingly merely

wandering about, but showing her off. She would surely be one the most fetching

slaves in the area.

How lofty, I thought, are the walls of Ar. Yet they were only of stone and

mortar. They could be breached. Her bridges could be, as the Goreans have it,

washed in blood. But there were forces of Ar between her walls and banners of

Cos. It was well.

I stopped for a moment to watch an amusing race. Several slave girls are

aligned, on all fours, poised, their heads down. Then, carefully, a line of

beans, one to a girl, is placed before them. She must then, on all fours, push

the bean before her, touching it only with her nose. The finish line was a few

yards away. “go!” I head. The crowd cheered on its favorites. On this sport, as

well as on several others, small bets were placed. Sometimes a new slave, one

who has recently been a haughty, arrogant free woman, is used in such a race.

Such things, aside (pg. 39) from their amusing, and fitting, aspects, are

thought to be useful in accommodating her to her new reality, that of the female

slave. In them she learns something more of the range of activities that may be

required of her.

I passed two fellows wrestling in a circle, others watching.

Another group, gathered about a fire, were singing and passing about a bota, I

presume, of paga.

I passed a pair of fellows intent over a Kaissa board. It seemed they were in

their own world.

A female slave passed me, looking shyly down. She moved, excellently. I saw

another regarding me. She was on her master’s leash. I recalled that Phoebe,

too, had been on a leash. Perhaps by now, I though, Marcus would have returned

with his slave, suffering in her need, to the tent, if only to satisfy himself

with her, for he, too, I was certain, was in an agony to have her. Yet, in spite

of his need, his intense desire for her, which it seemed he would choose to

conceal from her, and her obvious, even explicitly expressed piteous need, which

he chose to ignore, thereby supposedly, I suppose, indicating to her its

meaninglessness to him, he had, as though nothing were afoot, simply taken her

from the tent, as though merely to take in the sights, to see what might be seen

in the camp. If Marcus had returned to the tent by now, of course, I did not

think it would do for me to drop back, at least just yet. I wondered if, even

now, Phoebe might be writhing at his mercy in an intricate slave binding, one

which might make her so much the more helpless under his touch. Yet, given what

I knew of Marcus, and his will, and determination, he was probably still about

in the camp. But how long, I wondered, could he hold out. Certainly Phoebe had

been superb in her tunic, adjusted on her by the slave girdle. The mere sight of

her had led me to hurry to the mats. I supposed, however, that they were

somewhere about. Knowing Marcus I would suppose so. He was excellent at gritting

his teeth. I wondered if Phoebe had dared yet, in her need, to come close to

him, on her leash, or even, perhaps, to brush against him, perhaps as though

inadvertently. If Marcus though such a thing deliberate on her part it might

have earned her another cuffing. To be sure, it doubtless amused Marcus, or

seemed fitting to him, to lead her about on her leash, suffering in a need which

might be detectable even in the darkness and the shifting shadows. He might

regard that as quite appropriate for a “slut of Cos.”

There was, from one side, a sudden sound of grunting and the cracking of great

staffs, and urging cries from men. Two fellows, brawny lads, in half tunics,

were doing staff contest. (pg. 40) Both were good. Sometimes I could scarcely

follow the movements of these weapons. “Watch him!” called a fellow to one of

the contestants. “Cheers for Rarir!” called another. “Aii!” cried one of the

lads, blood at the side of his head and ear, stumbling to the side. “Good blow!”

cried an onlooker. But the lad came back with redoubled energy. I stayed for a

moment. The lad from Rarir, as I understood it, then managed to pierce the guard

of his opponent and thrust the staff into the fellow’s chest. He followed this

with a smiting to the side of the fellow’s head which staggered him. he then, at

the last moment, held back. the opponent, dazed, sat back in the dirt, laughing.

“Victory for Rarir!” cried one man. “Pay us!” called another. Extending his hand

to the foe the victor pulled him to his feet. They embraced. “Paga! Paga for

both!” called a fellow.

I circled about a bit.

I saw no sight of Marcus or his lovely slave. Perhaps they had returned to the

tent.

In one place, hearing the jingling of bells, I went over to a large open circle

of fellows to watch a game of “girl catch.” There are many ways in which this

game, or sort of game, is played. In this one, which was not untypical, a female

slave, within an enclosure, her hands bound behind her back, and hooded, is

belled, usually with common slave bells at the collar, wrists and ankles and a

larger bell, a guide bell, with its particular note, at her left hip. Some

fellows then, also hooded, or blindfolded, enter the enclosure, to catch her.

Neither the quarry nor the hunters can see the other. The girl is forbidden to

remain still for more than a certain interval, usually a few Ihn. She is under

the control of a referee. His switch can encourage her to move, and,

simultaneously, of course, mark her position. She is hooded in order that she

may not determine into whose power she comes. When she is caught that game, or

one of its rounds, is concluded. The victor’s prize, of course, is the use of

the slave.

I continued to walk about.

Two fellows were haggling over the price of a verr.