Swordsmen of Gor (15 page)

Something, of course, might have been seen from the height of the permanent mast of the round ship. A lookout is often posted there, with a Builder’s glass. He stands on a small platform, and is usually roped to the mast, or has his place within a chest-high ring of metal. The masts of the common Gorean warship are commonly lowered before entering battle. This makes the ship more amenable to her oars and less vulnerable to flaming missiles, which might ignite a sail on its long, sloping yard.

I wondered that Sullius Maximus had not been conveyed hither in a long ship. Surely Tyros has one of the most formidable fleets on Thassa.

Perhaps this had little to do with Tyros?

Perhaps a round ship would raise less suspicion?

Perhaps this was the very ship on which the agent of Priest-Kings might have had his passage?

“I speak in the name of Priest-Kings,” said Sullius Maximus, swiftly, as though by rote. “You are to attend me intently, and are to obey with perfection.”

“I am a free man,” I reminded him.

“Hear the will of Priest-Kings!” he said.

And so I prepared to hear the will of Kurii.

“You are to enter the forest,” said Sullius Maximus, “and seek out a forester, by name, Pertinax. The hut is nearby. You will know him by name, and by his possession, a blond-haired, blue-eyed slave. She is barbarian. She has tiny bits of metal in two of her teeth, and a tiny brand on her upper left arm. Her name is Constantina. They are to conduct you within the forest, to a rendezvous with a mariner from west of Tyros and Cos.”

That interested me, for few ships voyaged to the west of those maritime ubarates. There were, of course, some islands beyond Tyros and Cos, some smaller islands, spoken of, commonly, as the Farther Islands. I supposed, thus, that the “mariner,” if he were a mariner, must be from one of the Farther Islands. I was personally unaware of any who had sailed beyond those islands, and returned.

What Sullius Maximus had referred to as a brand on the upper left arm of Constantina was doubtless a vaccination mark. Few, if any, of the maladies which immunization was designed to prevent on Earth existed on Gor. It was natural for Goreans, hence, to suppose that this form of scarring was a brand, a deliberately inflicted mark, though not necessarily one indicative of bondage. Ritual scarring was not unknown on Gor, for example amongst certain of the Wagon Peoples of the southern plains, certain tribes south and east of Schendi, in the vicinity of the Ua, and so on. The girls were, of course, barbarians. Some Goreans supposed the tiny marks were “selection marks,” marks identifying choice females, suitable for eventual enslavement. This misunderstanding was presumably fostered by the fact that the great majority of Earth females brought to Gor were, in their variety of ways, choice merchandise or, to speak vulgarly, superb “block meat.”

“You are to take your orders from this person, or his superiors,” said Sullius Maximus.

“I do not understand what is going on here,” I said.

“Your duties will be explained to you,” said Sullius Maximus.

“What is the name of this ‘mariner’?” I asked.

“Nishida,” he said. “Lord Nishida.”

“Hurry! Hurry!” called the fellow at the tiller of the longboat.

Sullius Maximus then turned about, and hurried toward the shore.

He waded into the surf and, when he had boarded the small craft, the two fellows with crossbows followed him, and, in moments, their weapons stowed, they, and the other two oarsmen, were propelling the longboat toward the round ship. The fellow at the tiller had a steady hand, and the longboat was soon aside the round ship, and had been hoisted over the gunwales. At the same time the lateen sail was unfurled from its yard, and, swelling, took the wind, and the ship, like a stately bird, was aflight.

Sullius Maximus would have had no way of knowing that I had already made the acquaintance of Pertinax and Lady Constantina, nor in any event would this have much mattered. The principal point of his contact with me, I supposed, was to convince me that I had now kept my appointment with the agent of Priest-Kings, and had thereby received my instructions from the Sardar. I would be thus relieved of any inclination to await that contact, my possible suspicions having been thusly allayed. Presumably, too, assuming I was compliant to the will of Priest-Kings, I would now naively prosecute the machinations of Kurii, confident that it was in the cause of Priest-Kings that I labored.

What I had learned from Pertinax and Lady Constantina, of course, was rather similar to that which I had learned from Sullius Maximus, which was only to be expected, as they, though perhaps unbeknownst to one another, were in league. From Pertinax I had gathered the rendezvous in the forest might take place tomorrow, or soon thereafter. From Sullius Maximus, I had gathered that it was to take place with a “mariner” called Nishida. That did not sound to me like a Gorean name. Similarly, he had spoken of “Lord Nishida,” which suggested that the individual, if a mariner, at all, was not likely to be a common mariner. From Lady Constantina I had learned that a ship was somehow involved, and tarns. She had also suggested that I would be subject to a hold of some sort, presumably something that would guarantee my fidelity to the orders received. This hold, I had gathered, had something to do with a woman. I understood little of this.

Once this rendezvous had taken place it seemed to me unlikely that the Kurii would have further use for Lady Constantina. I rather doubted that she would be given to Pertinax, as he seemed still much of Earth. He did not seem to me a master. Naturally it would be appropriate to give a woman, particularly a good-looking woman, which Constantina was, only to a master.

They know what to do with such women.

I decided to return to the hut of Pertinax.

I supposed he would still be there, even if Lady Constantina would have urged flight. Too, I was sure Cecily would be there, as well. She had not been given permission to leave the area, nor did I think, in fact, she would wish to do so. Once, before, on a Steel World, she had fled. She had, of course, eventually, easily enough, a half-naked slave, branded and collared, been recovered. I had punished the Earth girl well for her indiscretion. She was now, as the saying is, more familiar with her collar. Now, the very thought of attempting to escape, or of even failing to be pleasing, and fully so, would fill her with terror.

Constantina, I had now discovered, was, as I had hitherto suspected, a free woman. I did not think she would inform Pertinax that I now knew her secret. It was, of course, one to which he would be privy. It would be important to her, surely, to try to retain her pretense of bondage, at least before Pertinax, when I was present. She would not be sure, too, of what consequences might accrue to her, from her employers, should they learn of her disclosures at the shore. Better to pretend things were as before. And, indeed, was her disguise not required of her, that she might, in relative safety, arousing little suspicion, negotiate the realms of Gor, her markets and streets, her fields and bridges, her wharves and roads? To Goreans, a free female of Earth would be surprising, at least. Too, there were few, if any, free women in the forests. These were not the locales to which a free woman would be likely to be brought, nor to which they would wish to come.

So now it seemed to me that I might well behave toward Lady Constantina, as before, as though I still accepted her as, and believed her to be, the slave of Pertinax. To be sure, it would now give me special pleasure to treat her as the slave she pretended to be. Let her, a proud, insolent free woman of Earth, used to the men of Earth, such as Pertinax, men whom she despised and might affront with impunity, and upon occasion, in virtue doubtless of wealth and authority, command, have to behave before me, and before Pertinax, as a mere slave.

I wondered if the adjustments I had made to her garmenture, and the fact that she no longer held the key to her collar, and could not now remove it, might help her have to have more of a sense of what it might be, to be a slave.

Certainly she would be uneasy.

I thought I would enjoy this.

And I was sure Cecily, too, would enjoy it.

Cecily, of course, believed her a slave, one, however, surprisingly in need of discipline.

Slaves desire to be kept in order, and certainly expect other slaves to be kept in order, as well. They find infractions of discipline almost incomprehensible, perhaps because they so seldom occur, and when they do, they are usually promptly and sharply punished. A slave expects to be punished if she is not pleasing. Indeed, if she knows herself to have been negligent or omissive, which sometimes occurs, she may beg to be punished, that she may feel that the balance, harmony, and order of her existence, of her very world, has been restored. If a slave is not treated as a slave she may become confused and frightened, for she knows she is a slave, and how she should be treated. Should a master begin to treat the slave as though she might be a free woman, she is likely to throw herself to his feet, and beg not to be sold.

The preciousness of the collar to the slave, and the fulfillments of her bondage, are not to be minimized. Commonly she lives to love and serve the master, to the best of her ability. She knows she is a slave, and how slaves are expected to behave. Accordingly that is how she does behave, as a slave.

Even free women, it seems, have some sense of these remarkable and profound fulfillments, and this accounts, one supposes, for their almost universal hostility toward, and contempt for, their embonded sisters.

The slave, it might be noted, is seldom, if ever, treated with gratuitous or wanton cruelty. She is subject to that, but what would be the point of it? To a Gorean such things would be incomprehensible, or absurd. What is important is the mastery, and firmness, to be sure a mastery and a firmness which is uncompromising and exacting, categorically and absolutely so, but also one which is commonly taken for granted, by both the master and the slave.

When a man has what he wants from a woman, a hot, helpless, grateful slave, one devoted and dutiful, a lovely property, vulnerable in his collar, why should he not be contented, well-disposed, and benevolent?

A man finds himself, a slave at his feet, and a woman finds herself, a slave, at the feet of her master.

And thus speaks the cave, the dances at campfires, and thongs. And thus, in the enhancements of civilization, speak bracelets, the collar, and the block.

I wondered if I should gather in Cecily, and try to make my way south, eventually to Port Kar.

This might expose me, and my holding, and properties, ships, treasures, slaves, and such, to the reprimand of Priest-Kings, of course.

And if I slipped from the surveillance of Kurii, and their minions, this, too, might place much in jeopardy.

Pertinax, for example, who seemed a nice enough fellow, might be punished for having failed his more remote employers. I doubted that the displeasure of Kurii could be lightly borne.

Primarily, I suppose, I was curious.

I did not know the will of Priest-Kings, and so did not know either how to thwart it, or abet it, even if I wished to pursue one of these objectives. But, similarly, I did not know what project Kurii might have afoot.

But I was curious.

I decided I would remain in the forest.

Sometimes high warriors, city masters, Ubars, generals, and such, play “blind kaissa.” Two boards are used, with an opaque barrier between the boards, so neither player can see the pieces of the other. An adjudicator observes both boards and informs the players whether a move is legal, whether a capture has been made, and so on. Thus, in a sense, the game is played in the dark. Gradually, however, from the adjudicator’s reports, particularly if one has much experience of this version of kaissa, one begins to sense the positions and strategy of the opponent. This game is intended to intensify and heighten the intuitions of battle. In Gorean warfare, of course, as in much traditional warfare, prior to electronic sophistications, one is often uncertain of the position, strength, and plans of the enemy. Too much in war, and often much of fearful moment, is “blind kaissa.”

And so, I thought, perhaps in the northern forests, I might try my hand at “blind kaissa.”

I would return to the hut of Pertinax.

It was at this time that I, facing the sea, looked to my left, several hundred yards down the beach, and, too, several yards out to sea.

I now suspected the meaning of the signal smoke near the bow of the round ship, and why she had recalled her longboat, had swung about and unfurled her sail. Presumably, her lookout had espied, far to her starboard, another sail. Gorean ships seldom approach one another, and when they do, it is likely that one or both have piracy or war on their mind.

Yesterday I had gathered from Pertinax that ships, perhaps several, had come to the local shores, and disembarked fellows of a sort whose acquaintance he was not eager to make. Indeed, while I had been with him, yesterday, one such ship had disembarked a number of armed men.

A small ship was there, her sail furled. She had some ten oars to a side; she was smaller than my
Tesephone
. She was of a sort that might be used in messaging, or packet work. She had swung parallel to the shore, her bow south. Several men were spilling over her port side, perhaps twenty or more. Some boxes, too, perhaps supplies, of one sort or another, were cast overboard, and these were being guided by wading men to the shore, where they were drawn up on the beach. I then noted, lastly, another form of cargo, one that had not been on the earlier ship, items strung together, which were then rudely, unceremoniously, disembarked, plunged overboard into the chilly waters. These items then, some immersed, now and again, others trying desperately to hold their heads above the water, were dragged through the surf to the shore, and then, barefoot, stumbling, shuddering, were knelt on the wave-washed pebbled sand, water, coming and going, swirling about their knees and thighs, where they huddled together, heads down, several clutching their arms about themselves for warmth. I counted some fifteen, though it was hard to tell, at the distance, as they were crowded together. Sometimes such properties, so linked, are spoken of as a “slaver’s necklace,” pretty beads, so to speak, on a common string. In any event they were chained together, by the neck. The chain seemed heavier than necessary, and the collars were high and dark. If the girl kneels upright, her back straight, as slaves are commonly expected to kneel, she cannot well lower her head in such a collar. The head remains lifted to the master, which can be fearful for a slave. She lowers her head by bending at the waist. I surmised they were low slaves. To be sure, even recent free women are sometimes put in such devices, that they become that much the sooner accustomed to their condition, that they are no longer free, but are now goods, now properties, now slaves.