Rebels of Gor (30 page)

“You should be whipped, and whipped!” cried Sumomo.

“No, Mistress! Please, no, Mistress!” wept Cecily. Slaves, as other beasts, know the whip, and will do much to avoid its stroke.

“You asked her a question, beloved daughter,” said Lord Yamada. “She responded as best she could. Dismiss her. Permit her to continue serving.” He then addressed the other diners. “Note the kelp, the bamboo shoots, the fish, the lotus roots, and mushrooms.”

“You are dismissed,” said Sumomo, angrily, returning to her place, kneeling. “Continue serving.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Cecily. “Thank you, Mistress. Forgive me, Mistress!”

“Sake,” called Tajima to Saru, who hurried to bring him the second of his three small cups.

I rose to my feet and went to stand to the left of the seated Lord Yamada. I noted that his hand now rested on the tasseled hilt of his companion sword, an accouterment with which men of his station were seldom without. It was at hand, even as they slept.

“Noble lord,” I said, “I express my commendation at the excellence of the supper.”

“Meat is also available, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said. “I have seen to it. Coast gull, vulo, tarsk, verr, and mountain deer.”

“Lord Yamada is thoughtful, and more than generous,” I said, “but I speak to him of another matter. Behold, at this table, to your right, is the officer Tajima, Pani, as yourself, and but recently come from the holding of your enemy, Lord Temmu. The noble Tajima will be more informed than I of recent developments which may have occurred in the holding of Lord Temmu. They may be of interest to you.”

“You suppose,” said Lord Yamada, “he might be reluctant to speak openly of such matters at this point?”

“Yes,” I said, “even with your chain of gold now about his neck.”

“I understand,” said Lord Yamada, softly.

“Men are often disarmed by charm and beauty,” I said, “and may willingly, even eagerly, reveal to a woman, hoping to intrigue and impress her, matters which otherwise might be difficult to extract, even by the persuasions of ropes and irons.”

“Sumomo,” said Lord Yamada.

“Father?” she said, surprised.

“The moons smile upon the garden,” he said. “The brook flows brightly between the rocks. The Night Singers rejoice in the branches.”

“Father?” she said, puzzled.

“It would please me,” he said, “if you would show our insignificant, humble garden to our guest, the noble Tajima, tarnsman.”

“Surely not!” she said.

“It would please me,” he said, smiling.

“Yes,” said Sumomo, suddenly, “of course.”

“Is this seemly?” asked Lord Akio.

A woman of the high Pani would not be likely to be unattended in such a situation.

“Ashigaru are about,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Lord Akio, “I might accompany them.”

“Better to let the young people banter amongst themselves,” said Lord Yamada.

I recalled that he had been willing to place Sumomo, in the guise of a contract woman, in the very holding of his mortal enemy, Lord Temmu.

“Perhaps I am not interested in seeing the garden,” said Tajima.

“Please, noble warrior,” said Sumomo.

“His hands could be bound behind his body,” said Lord Akio.

“He is our guest,” remonstrated Lord Yamada, dismayed.

“At the first hint of unseemly conduct, great lady,” said Lord Akio, “call out, and Ashigaru will be at your side.”

“Let us enter the garden, noble warrior,” said Sumomo.

“Now I am ‘noble warrior’,” he observed.

“And wear a golden chain,” she said.

“You had little enough time for me before,” he said.

Indeed, Sumomo, in Tarncamp, in Shipcamp, on the great ship, and in the holding of Lord Temmu, though supposedly only a contract woman, had treated him with derision and contempt, rather as might have the daughter of a shogun mocked and scorned the attentions of a lowly armsman. I had little understood the adamant nature of her seeming hostility. It had seemed inexplicable to me, particularly as I had taken her to be a contract woman. How could it be that such a woman would not show deference to a Pani male, and a warrior? It would have been simple enough to simply ignore him. But she had not done so.

“Please,” said Sumomo, looking over her shoulder at Tajima, and smiling. I doubted that a contract woman could have done it better.

“Very well,” he said, as though reluctantly.

He then followed Sumomo down the three steps into the beckoning, moonlit garden.

I did not know if this had been well done, or not, but, at least, Tajima was now in a position to inform the lovely Sumomo of her jeopardy.

I could smell the fragrance of flowers.

“I am not sure of this,” said Lord Akio, uneasily.

“There are golden suls,” said Lord Yamada, “with butter and cream, from our own dairy.”

“If we are to reach our rendezvous with Ichiro,” said Pertinax, “we must soon leave.”

“There is time,” I said. “You seem to have been observing the flanks of Saru,” I said.

“She is a worthless slave,” he said.

“But she does have nice flanks,” I said, “and the collar is pretty on her neck.”

“It is pretty on the neck of any woman,” he said.

“Of course,” I said. “They are, and should be, slaves.”

“True,” he said.

“Doubtless you recall her from the offices of Earth,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“You find her more pleasing now than before, do you not?” I asked.

“Certainly,” he said. “The worthless thing is now as she should be, a helpless, collared slave.”

“Perhaps you would like to have your binding cord on her,” I said.

“She is not worth the cord that would bind her,” he said.

“Still she might look well, helpless, trussed at your feet,” I said.

“At anyone’s feet,” he said.

“True,” I said.

I think very little time had passed when Sumomo, holding her kimono about herself, her face dark with anger, ascended the three steps, went behind the table, and resumed her position, kneeling.

Her entire body was trembling, apparently with fury.

“Shall I call Ashigaru?” inquired Lord Akio, anxiously, his right hand within his left sleeve.

“No, great lord,” she snapped.

She should not have spoken so, as she, even though a daughter of the shogun, was a female, and he was a male, and a daimyo.

“What occurred, beloved daughter?” inquired Lord Yamada, solicitously. “Did our guest not enjoy the garden?”

“On such a boor, and barbarian,” she said, “the bean garden of a peasant would be wasted.”

“He was uncommunicative?” inquired the shogun.

“He was communicative enough,” she said. “But he is mad, and not to be trusted. He knows nothing. He is ignorant. He speaks absurdities. I could not bring myself to repeat the ludicrous things I heard. He chose not to speak of the holding of Temmu. In the darkness he babbled only nonsense.”

“Great lord,” I said to Lord Yamada, “I fear the beauty of your daughter, the aroma of the garden, the joy of the evening, the sparkle of sake, the light of the moons, the babble of the water, rendered my officer not himself, but stumbling and incoherent.”

“He is young,” smiled Lord Yamada. “Sake and beauty have addled the wits of even daimyos, have they not dear Akio?”

“As the shogun has said,” he smiled, lifting one of the small cups of sake to the shogun.

Tajima then returned, and took his place, cross-legged, to the right of the shogun.

“Did you enjoy the garden?” asked the shogun.

“Very much,” said Tajima. “It is a beautiful garden.”

“You did not stay long,” said the shogun.

“Too much beauty is overwhelming,” said Tajima.

Sumomo smiled.

“I meant the garden,” said Tajima.

“Of course,” said Sumomo.

“Perhaps he did not trust himself,” said Lord Akio.

“My friend would do much to avoid impugning his honor,” I said.

“A father is proud,” said Lord Yamada, “to be the father of so beautiful and dangerously fascinating a daughter.”

“I felt drops of rain,” said Tajima.

A small, angry noise escaped Sumomo.

The shogun looked out over the table, to the large, low, opened wall, beyond which lay the garden. “The garden is dark now,” he said. “The clouds have gathered.”

“True,” said Tajima.

“Perhaps another time,” said Lord Yamada, pleasantly.

“Perhaps,” said Tajima.

“We have eleven varieties of rice here,” said the shogun, “variously prepared, in stews, pastes, and cakes, and variously seasoned, with a dozen sauces and herbs. Too, consider the gifts of the sea and shore, from four of my fishing villages, clams, oysters, grunt, bag fish, song fish, shark, eels, octopus, wing fish, parsit, squid.”

“You set a magnificent table,” I said to the shogun.

“I rejoice if my humble offerings please you,” said the shogun.

“She would not believe me,” said Tajima to me, in English.

“I had gathered as much,” I said, in English.

I heard rain gently falling on the leaves of the trees in the garden.

“The Night Singers are quiet,” I said.

“It is the rain,” said Lord Akio.

“Perhaps we should have the screens closed,” I said.

“Later,” said Lord Akio.

“Light lanterns,” said Lord Yamada, and attending Ashigaru lit a number of dangling lanterns.

As the lanterns were of diversely colored paper the room was aglow with a medley of illuminations, and yet the colors did not clash but each seemed to enhance the other. I was reminded of the architecture of the plantings, the sequences of flowers, in the garden outside, with their music of aromatic notes.

“Two of our honored guests,” said Lord Yamada, “following my arrangements, designed to make clear my trustworthiness and good will, will soon leave, to rendezvous somewhere with one or more compatriots, following which they will return to the encampment of the cavalry. There they will reassure the cavalry of the safety and health of its commander, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, bear to it my good wishes and assure it of my friendship. It is then my hope that the cavalry, in the light of the despicable treatment of their commander, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, betrayed into the hands of a putative enemy, but an actual friend, the dreadful perfidy of the house of Temmu, the righteousness of my cause, and the wisdom of an alliance, one both noble and profitable, will pledge itself wisely to the house of Yamada, enlisting under the banner of the Shogun of the Islands.”

“This may take some time, great lord,” I said. “There would likely be questions, conditions, negotiations, and such.”

“Of course,” he said. “And in the meantime, we will trust that Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, will consent to continue to enjoy our hospitality.”

I nodded, pleasantly.

“Cecily,” I said.

“Master?” she said.

I scooped up a handful of rice paste from the shallow bowl to my right, and held it out, across the table.

The slave hurried to me, gratefully, and knelt, and put down her head. I held the rice paste to where she might take it, from the palm of my hand. She fed, ravenously. I gathered it might have been several Ahn since the slaves had been fed in the pen. The first feeding of field slaves is usually at dawn, or earlier, before they are sent into the fields. In the early afternoon water and a handful of millet suffices for them. After returning to the pen, they receive their evening feeding. They are not permitted to linger at the troughs, neither in the morning nor in the evening. Today, given the intended supper in the palace, and the selections to be made, the slaves had been kept in the pens. Thus the millet of the afternoon need not be wasted on them. Accordingly, it seemed probable that the three serving slaves had not fed since the early morning.

“A slave is grateful, Master,” said Cecily, looking up.

I motioned that she should return to the vicinity of the kitchen master, which she promptly did.

“Jane,” called Pertinax, and she hurried to him, and was fed, as had been Cecily, from the palm of his hand. Then he motioned her away, and she returned to her place by the serving table.

I looked across the floor, to where Saru knelt.

“Your selection, friend Tajima,” I said, “has not been fed.”

“She was not really my selection,” he said.

“That is true,” I said.

“She has not been watching me,” he said. “She has been watching Pertinax. Have you not noted, as well, her hanging about him, how she positioned herself, that she would be well displayed, so frequently, even in her serving, and such?”

“I was not paying attention,” I said. “Perhaps I was distracted by the honeyed chestnuts.”

“She was not pleased,” he said, “when Pertinax fed the slave, Jane.”