The Usurper (36 page)

“That is why men buy them,” he said.

“Release us!” cried a woman.

“Yet,” he said, “you would waste such pleasant beasts, such silken, curvaceous objects, of such interest to men, in the arena.”

“Let us go!” cried a woman.

“It is not enough that you, in your hatred, would own, terrify, and beat them, but you would destroy them, even cast them to beasts.”

“They are slaves,” cried a woman.

“Gundlicht,” said the man with the rifle. “Exhibit Lady Delia to the free women below.”

“Oh!” cried Lady Delia, as Gundlicht yanked her to her feet by the hair, thrust her rudely to the railing, and then held her there, his right hand in her hair, holding her head up, and steadying her with his left hand, it grasping her bound, upper left arm.

Cries of dismay escaped the many women on the sand.

“My dear Lady Delia,” said the man with the rifle, softly, the words not audible beyond the box of the hostess, “it is my intention to throw you now, as you are, naked and bound, to the sand below, and release the dogs. There are four left. Doubtless they will attack you first. This should be instructive to the other women in the arena.”

“Do not do so, great and noble sir,” wept Lady Delia. “I am helpless.”

“Cast her to the sand,” said the man with the rifle to Gundlicht, who then swept the Lady Delia up easily into his arms, and readied himself to cast her over the railing.

“No, no, Master!” wept Lady Delia.

“‘Master'?” said the man with the rifle.

“Yes, yes!” wept Lady Delia.

The man with the rifle indicated that Gundlicht should stand the Lady Delia behind the railing.

“Publicly, and loudly, slut,” said the man with the rifle, “so that all may hear.”

“I am a slave!” she cried. “I beg to be made a slave! Make me a slave! I beg the collar! Keep me, Masters!”

Many were the cries of dismay, and outrage, from the sand below. “No, no!” cried Lady Virginia, and others. “Treason!” cried others. “You betrayed us!” cried a woman. “Contemptible baggage!” cried another.

Gundlicht, at a sign from the man with the rifle, pulled the former Lady Delia back and flung her to her knees behind the railing. “Untie her hands,” he said to Gundlicht, who did so, promptly.

“Go to all fours here, beside me,” said the man with the rifle, “and await your collar.”

“Yes, Master,” said the slave.

“Bring two,” said the man with the rifle, to another fellow, glancing at Cornhair, who instantly, too, unbidden, went to all fours, which is a common position in which a slave is collared.

“Now, dear ladies,” called the man to the women on the sand, “I am going to release the dogs.”

“No!” cried many. “No! No!”

“No, no, our ransoms! Our ransoms!” cried more than one.

“I have been well paid,” said the man with the rifle. “But not to hold you for ransoms. And you have not been pleasing. I shall now release the dogs!”

“No, no!” cried many of the women.

“Let us be pleasing!” cried a woman.

“Yes, yes,” cried others. “Let us be pleasing!”

“Pleasing,
as women
?” asked the man with the rifle.

“Yes, yes!” cried several.

“But you are free women!” said the man with the rifle.

Several of the women had fallen to their knees in the sand. Did they not realize that that was undignified, and might sully or injure their garments?

“Yes, yes,” cried several of the women. “We beg to be pleasing,
as women
,
as women
!”

“Remove your garments, every stitch,” called the man with the rifle from the box of the hostess. “Then, go to all fours, and, in line, crawl slowly to the exit portal from the arena. There, one by one, you will be collared, and chained.”

“Good,” said Gundlicht, after a bit, looking over the railing. “They are block naked,” he said.

“We have clothing!” cried one of the neck-roped slaves down to the sand.

“Lash her,” said the man with the rifle. “She did not request permission to speak.”

“It will be done,” said a man.

The slave who had called out, loudly, derisively, to the women below, so triumphantly, moaned in dismay. She had not requested permission to speak. She would be lashed.

“We shall proceed as planned?” asked Gundlicht.

“Yes,” said the man with a rifle. “We will take them downriver, through the delta, in a covered barge. Then, as we have arranged, they will be distributed, and sold.”

At this point the fellow whom the man with the rifle had sent for the two collars had returned to the tiers.

“Collar them,” said the man with the rifle.

“Hold still,” said the man.

“Yes, Master,” whispered the former Lady Delia.

There was a click and the new slave was collared. She put her head down.

“Hold still,” said the man, again.

“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair. She closed her eyes, briefly. She felt the metal being placed about her neck, and adjusted. She waited. Then she heard the click, and she, too, was collared. She opened her eyes, on all fours, her neck once again encircled with the badge of bondage.

“I am now, again, in a collar,” she thought. “I am pleased. How can I be pleased? I am collared. Why do I not mind this?”

“You are Delia,” said the man with the rifle to the former Lady Delia.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“How fitting it is,” Cornhair thought to herself, “that we are collared. We are so different from free women. Who could mistake a girl in a collar? It is so clear, what she is. I would not want to be mistaken for a free woman, for I am not a free woman. I am so different. I am a slave.”

“What is your name?” the man with the rifle asked the former Lady Delia.

“‘Delia', Master,” she said.

“Strange,” thought Cornhair to herself, “I welcome the collar. I am happy that I have been put in it. I am choiceless. I want it that way. What has become of me? I am a slave. I know that now.”

She heard the snap of the silken canopy over her head. Part of the arena was now in the shade.

“I love it that men are strong, and will do with me, as they will,” she thought. “I do not mind being sold. I hope to have a good Master. But I will have whatever Master buys me. I am a slave.”

One of the men was now leading the string of tunicked, neck-roped slaves down from the tiers.

She was not sure they would be mixed with the new slaves. Perhaps they would be sold in Telnar. That was apparently not to be the case with the new slaves.

“What will be done with me,” wondered Cornhair. “I will be given away, or sold.”

It occurred to her quite naturally now that she would be given away or sold. She had stood on a slave shelf, bared, with a placard on her neck. She had been exhibited, stripped, on a sales block, displayed as goods. There was now no doubt that she might be given away or sold. She now understood herself, wholly and deeply, as what she was, a slave. Her hopes and fears were now those of a slave. Her consciousness was now the consciousness of a slave

She now wished to be a slave, and to belong, and obey, and serve.

“I am a slave,” she thought. “It is what I am. It is what I want to be. Let others have their freedom. I have experienced that. Now I want to be owned, to belong. I want to be handled, dominated, exploited, and ravished. I want to be vulnerable and helpless. I want a Master. I need a Master.”

“May I speak, Master?” asked the slave, Delia, of the man with the rifle.

“Yes,” he said.

“What is to be done with us, with myself, and those who were with me?”

“For the most part,” he said, “you will be scattered amongst a hundred markets on a hundred worlds.”

“I have gathered you are not a boat man, not a river man, not even a river pirate,” she said.

“No,” he said.

“The names ‘Gundlicht' and ‘Hendrix',” she said, “are not Telnarian names.”

“No,” he said.

“May I inquire as to the nature of my Master?” she asked.

“I am Alemanni,” he said, “or, as you will have it, of the Aatii.”

“No!” she cried.

“It is so, pretty animal,” he said.

“A barbarian owns me!” she cried in misery. “I am the property of a barbarian!”

“Amongst the Alemanni,” he said, “my tribe was the Drisriaks. I was high amongst them. I broke away, to form a new tribe, the Ortungen. We fared badly, muchly struck down by the forces of Abrogastes.”

“Abrogastes,” she said, “the great barbarian lord whose fleets and armies attack and plunder worlds, which threaten the empire itself, Abrogastes, he called the Far-Grasper? His very name is scarcely dared spoken in Telnar!”

“He is my father,” said the man with the rifle. “I am Ortog, his son, no longer in his favor.”

“Woe,” she wept, “I am not only fallen into the hands of a barbarian, but into the hands of the son of the dreaded Abrogastes himself.”

“As a woman of the empire,” he said, “it makes little difference as to what barbarian you might fall. We all know what to do with women of the empire.”

“Please sell me, Master,” she said. “Please sell me soon, to someone of civilization.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But barbarians enjoy owning women of the empire, particularly former high women. They look well in rags, or less, tending pigs, and such.”

“Have mercy,” she pleaded, on all fours, head down, collared.

“I may keep you,” he said.

“Please, do not, Master,” she begged.

“Who, slave,” asked Ortog, “was second to you, when you were free?”

“Lady Virginia Serena,” said Delia, “of the lesser Serenii, of Telnar.”

“Then I may keep both of you,” he said, “that you may compete for my favor.”

“Have mercy, Master,” she said.

“It is pleasant to own slaves,” he said. “Who do you think would be my favorite, amongst you two?”

“Doubtless we would both try to be pleasing to our Master.”

“The whip will see to it,” he said. “And then, later, when you are aroused, aroused as slaves, the whip of your needs.”

“Surely not!” she said.

“It will be pleasant, to see you naked on your belly, begging for a caress.”

“How could such a thing be?” she said.

“Wait until you are longer in a collar,” he said.

She put her head down, trembling.

“Why is it,” she whispered, “that one who was once high amongst the Drisriaks, a captain or chieftain, even a king perhaps, stooped to raid a small compound on the Turning Serpent?”

“Even a man of great wealth,” he said, “may pick up a coin found on the street, and I am not of great wealth. The Ortungen have fallen far. I have men to feed, and ships to fuel. Remnants of scattered followers are to be regathered. The banner of the Ortungen must be once more unfurled.”

“And gold is needed,” said Delia.

“Of course,” he said, “and even copper, and silver.”

“I see,” she said.

“But the costless acquisition of one hundred and fifty two slaves, Telnarian slaves,” he said, “young and lovely slaves, formerly of significant station, is scarcely a negligible coin to be picked up on the street. I am paid to acquire them and, once they are acquired, I may distribute and sell them as I please.”

“Treating us as properties,” she said, “as loot, and plunder!”

“Women are properties,” he said, “loot, and plunder. It is the way of nature. They belong to men, kneeling, collared, their lips to our boots. Surely you have suspected this.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“It is true,” thought Cornhair. “We are slaves.”

“May I speak?” asked Cornhair.

“Yes,” said Ortog.

“When I was put into the arena,” said Cornhair, “the noble free women, in their cruelty, promised that if I could climb from the arena, I would be spared and sold in some nice market in Telnar.”

“So?” said Ortog.

“May I not then be sold in such a market,” asked Cornhair, “a nice market, one which might be frequented by men of modest means, in the capital, in Telnar?”

“You will be sold when, where, and how I wish,” said Ortog.

“Yes, Master,” said Cornhair.

“How helplessly female I am,” she thought. “How helplessly female are slaves! Yet I would not have it otherwise, for I am a slave. How disturbed and outraged, and bewildered, and frightened, I was, as a free woman, when such thoughts, so frequent, telling, and persistent, intruded into my thoughts and dreams! But now I am collared, and content.”

“Master,” said Delia.

“Yes?” he said.

“What is it to be a slave?”

“Tonight, in your chains,” he said, “you will learn.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

Chapter Thirty

“These are the darkest of days,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “The empire is doomed.”

“I will not have it so,” said Julian, striking his fist on the rude plank table, in the training camp.

“The fleets of Abrogastes loom,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “The ships of the empire, what few with scarce fuel remain, are inert in their steel concealments. Worlds prepare to welcome barbarian lords.”

“Telnaria stands,” said Julian.

“And muchly alone,” said Tuvo. “What say you, dear Ottonius?”

“I know little of what is going on,” said Otto. “I know the sword, the bow, the noble, declared foe. I know little of politics, or secret wars.”

“The
comitates
have withdrawn,” said Tuvo.

“Some remain,” said Otto.

“I remain, my king,” said young Vandar, who had been the first, long ago, in a simple hall, to accept meat, meat cut from the hero's portion by a giant, blond stranger, one who had brought the pelt of a white vi-cat to a hall of Otungs.

“I, too,” said two others, Ulrich, who had conducted the stranger to the hall, and Citherix, who had been bold enough to challenge a king.

“We, as well,” said Astubux and Axel, who had known Otto since Varna, where he had ascended to the chieftainship of the Wolfungs.

“The tents are empty, the camps abandoned,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“I feared it would be so,” muttered Julian.

“How could men withdraw from kings in honor?” asked Otto.

“In the name of a higher honor,” said Julian.

“It is the medallion and chain, once held by Genserix,” said Vandar. “It is the talisman of the Vandal Nation, what unifies the Vandal Nation, what unifies the Otungs, the Darisi, the Haakons, the Basungs, and the Wolfungs. It is tradition that the tribes will follow he who holds the talisman.”

“Why then,” asked Otto, “have you, my friends, not also departed?”

“Once,” said Astubux, “there was no tradition.”

“If a pig wore the medallion and chain, if it were slung about his neck,” said Citherix, “I would not then follow a pig.”

“Many would,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“One follows men,” said Axel, “not workages of crafted metal.”

“I feared this would occur,” said Julian. “Long ago, in investigating the antecedents of dear Ottonius, I journeyed to a remote
festung
high amongst the crags of the Barrionuevo Range, the
festung
of Sim Giadini.”

“I was raised in the
festung
village,” said Otto.

“There I learned that an infant, retrieved from the mud and snow, from the debris of a march of prisoners, one suckled by a dog, had been entrusted to the brothers of Sim Giadini, in particular, to a salamanderine, Brother Benjamin. With that infant had been found the medallion and chain.”

“We may conjecture then,” said Ulrich, “that after the death of Genserix, the medallion and chain, if it is the true medallion and chain, was concealed, probably by his queen, Elsa, who was said to be near the time of giving birth. We may further conjecture that she, a prisoner, gave birth during the march, in which she, as many others, perished.”

“The child, as I had it from Brother Benjamin, was brought to the
festung
by a Herul warrior, named Hunlaki,” said Julian.

“Why,” asked Otto, “would a Herul warrior have any interest in a human child?”

“I do not know,” said Julian. “But Heruls seldom act without reason. In any event, Brother Benjamin guarded the medallion and chain for many years.”

“The
festung
was destroyed by imperial ships,” said Otto, bitterly.

“But the medallion and chain, the talisman, was not found,” said Julian.

“It may have been destroyed,” said Otto.

“Possibly,” said Julian, “but it, it seems, or some surrogate, was delivered to Drisriaks.”

“Perhaps there is no such thing,” said Axel.

“I saw it, in the cell of Brother Benjamin,” said Julian.

“The medallion and chain is a Vandal thing,” said Ulrich. “Why should it have been delivered to the Alemanni, to Drisriaks?”

“No Otung would do that,” said Vandar.

“No loyal Otung,” said Citherix.

“The point,” said Julian, “is to join the barbarian nations for a common onslaught against the empire.”

“One which could not be withstood,” said Otto.

“One which must be withstood,” said Julian, angrily.

“And so perished your plan, noble friend,” said Tuvo to Julian, “of enlisting barbarians to defend the empire against barbarians.”

“This outcome might have been envisaged,” said Otto. “Barbarians have more in common with one another than with men of the empire.”

“Not Vandals and Alemanni,” said Ulrich. “They are blood enemies.”

“Many have doubted the wisdom, friends,” said Tuvo, “of settling barbarians on imperial worlds, of arming them, of training them in the arts of war.”

“There was no alternative,” said Julian.

“Surely they would think soon of gold and worlds, rather than acres and a mercenary's fee,” said Otto.

“There was no alternative,” said Julian.

“In any event,” said Citherix, “given the medallion and chain, Vandals and Alemanni now enleague themselves.”

“And the empire trembles,” said Axel, “doomed, happily, to be felled by the sword of
barbaritas
.”

“No,” said Julian. “Telnaria stands.”

“For how long?” asked Axel.

“I do not think Abrogastes is much mixed in this brew,” said Otto. “I read him as proud and powerful, a true king of the Drisriaks. His way is the ax and challenge, not tricks, not poison, not whispers.”

“Who, then?” said Julian.

“Another, I think,” said Otto.

“But Drisriak,” said Julian. “The medallion and chain is in the counting house of the Drisriaks.”

“One high,” said Otto, “perhaps Ingeld, perhaps Hrothgar.”

“This business is independent of Abrogastes?” asked Julian.

“I think so,” said Otto.

“I still do not understand,” said Ulrich, “how Vandals and Alemanni could sit at the same table. They are blood enemies.”

“To feast on the riches of the empire,” said Tuvo.

“Two can lift a weight which might not be borne by one,” said Axel.

“And what,” asked Otto, “when the feast is done, when the weight need no longer be borne?”

“Then,” said Ulrich, “knives will be once more unsheathed.”

“I know little or nothing of the medallion and chain,” said Otto, “though I now understand its importance. Perhaps this was understood, as well, even long ago, by Brother Benjamin. Why, then, would he, a creature of peace, a gentle creature, a seeker of holiness, relinquish the talisman, and its power, to either warlike Vandals or Alemanni?”

“I do not think he did,” said Julian. “I think it was stolen, and the
festung
soon destroyed, to conceal the matter.”

“The matter had naught to do with heresy?” said Otto.

“Very little, I suspect,” said Julian. “The first project is power, the controlling of worlds. Heresy may then be extirpated at one's leisure.”

“I did not even know it existed,” said Otto.

“It had become much a thing of legend,” said Julian.

“But now,” said Tuvo, “it appears, as if from nowhere, and in the hands of Drisriaks.”

“It is not just the Drisriaks and the Vandals,” said Julian. “Tribes, peoples, and worlds are affected, as well. Many look with envy on the empire, and, seeing the Vandals and the Drisriaks joined, will flock to surprising standards, that they, too, may hurry to so golden a trough.”

“And, in the light of the talisman,” said Tuvo, “the empire is lost.”

“No,” said Julian.

“How, no?” asked Tuvo.

“I have seen the talisman,” said Julian.

“So, dear friend?” said Tuvo.

“I have a plan,” said Julian.