Kajira of Gor (10 page)

spears of guards, through the great gate of Corcyrus, not to be permitted to

return before the second passage hand!”

This was the one case which I remembered the most clearly.

The culprit was a small, vile man with a twisted body. He was an itinerant

peddler, Speusippus of Turia. I had found him inutterably detestable. A Corcyran

merchant had brought charges against him. He had received a bowl from Speusippus

which was purportedly silver, a bowl seemingly stamped with the appropriate seat

of Ar. The bowl upon inspection, the merchant becoming suspicious as to the

weights involved, had turned out to be merely plated. Further, since the

smithies of Ar, those authorized to use the various stamps of Ar, will not plate

objects without using relevant variations on the seal of Ar to, indicate this,

the object was not only- being misrepresented but was, in effect, a forged

artifact. This had led to a seizure and search of the stores and records of

Speusippus.

Various other discrepancies were found. He had two sets of weights, one true and

one false. Too, documents were found recording the purchase of quantities of

slave hair, at suitable prices, some even within the city of Corcyrus itself.

This hair, as was attested to by witnesses, had been represented to the public

as that of free women, with appropriate prices being expected. Hair,

incidentally, is a common trade item in Gorean markets. It is used for various

purposes, for example, for insect whisks, for dusters, for cleaning and

polishing pads, for cushionings, decorations and ropes, particularly catapult

ropes, for which it is highly prized. It is not unusual, incidentally, for slave

girls, particularly for those who may not have proved superbly pleasing, as yet,

to discover that their hair, even while it is still on them, is expected, like

themselves, to serve various lowly, domestic purposes. For example, when a girl,

serving at a banquet, hears the command, “Hair,” she knows she is to go to the

guest and kneel, and lower her head, that her hair may be used as a napkin or

wiping cloth, by means of which the free person, either male or female, may

remove stains, crumbs or grease from his hands. Similarly a girl’s hair, if

sufficiently long, may be used for the washing and cleaning of floors. In this

she is usually on her hands and knees, and naked and chained. The hair is used

in conjunction with the soap and water, in the appropriate buckets, being dipped

in, and wrung out, and rinsed, and so on.

Hair incidentally, is not used for the application of such things as waxes or

varnishes, because of the difficulty of removing such substances from the hair.

Such a mistake could necessitate a shearing and a lowering of the market value

of a girl for months. For similar reasons, a girl’s hair, even within a cloth,

if it is still on her, is seldom used for such purposes as buffing and

polishing. Hair is common, of course, as a stuffing for pads used for such

purposes, for example, for tile purposes of cleaning, buffing and polishing.

I was pleased to see the odious Speusippus turned about by guards and dragged

from my presence. How pleased I was, too, to see the awesome strength of men

serving my purposes.

I lay on my back, on the great couch, in the hot Corcyrus night.

Some things I did not understand. Even Susan, who knew much more of Gor than I,

did not understand them.

In my audiences, and public appearances, for example, and even in the court, I

appeared without the veils common to tile Gorean free woman. I knew the veils,

and Susan had instructed me in their meanings, arrangements and fastenings, but,

publicly, at least, I seldom wore them. This omission seemed puzzling to me,

from what I had learned of Gor, particularly in the case of a free woman of so

lofty a station as a Tatrix, but I saw no real reason for objecting,

particularly in the warm weather of Corcyrus. Indeed, Susan’s being so

scandalized, and her reservations about sending me forth unveiled from my

quarters, she once of Cincinnati, Ohio, seemed to me exquisitely amusing. I did

try to explain the matter to her, as Ligurious had explained it to me, when I

had asked him about it. The important difference between myself and other free

women, of high station, was precisely that, that I was a Tatrix and they were

not. A Tatrix, Ligurious had informed me, has no secrets from her people. It is

good for the people of a Tatrix to be able to look lovingly and reverently upon

her. “Yes, Mistress,” had said Susan, her head down. I had wondered if Ligurious

was being candid with me. At any rate, there was little doubt that the features

of their Tatrix had now become well known in Corcyrus, at least to many of her

citizens. Indeed, only this morning I, unveiled, in a large, open, silken

palanquin, borne by slaves, Ligurious at my side, had been carried through the

streets of Corcyrus, behind trumpets and drums, flanked by guards, through

cheering crowds. “Your people love you,” had said Ligurious. I had lifted my

hand to the crowds, and bowed and smiled. I had done these things with

graciousness and dignity, as I had been instructed to do by Ligurious. It had

been a thrilling experience for me, seeing the people, the shops, the streets,

the buildings. It was the first time I had been outside the grounds of the

palace. The streets were clean and beautiful. The smelt of flowers was in the

air. Petals had been strewn by veiled maidens before the path of the palanquin.

“It is good for you to appear before the people,” bad said Ligurious, “given the

trouble with Argentum.”

“What is the trouble with Argentum?” I had asked.

“Skirmishes have taken place near there,” be said. “Look,” he said, pointing,

“there is the library of Antisthenes.”

“It is beautiful,” I said, observing the shaded porticoes, the slim, lofty

pillars, the graceful pediment with its friezes.

“What is the problem with Argentum?” I asked.

“This is the avenue of Iphicrates,” I was informed.

The people at the sides of the street did not seem surprised that my features

were not concealed by a veil. Perhaps it was traditional, I gathered, as I had

been informed by Ligurious, that this was the fashion in which the Tatrix

appeared before her people. At any rate, whatever might have been the reason,

the people, reassuringly, from my point of view, seemed neither scandalized nor

surprised by my lack of a veil. If anything, they might have been saluting me,

as though for my courage.

At one point the retinue passed five kneeling girls. They were barefoot and wore

brief, sleeveless, one-piece tunics

Their heads were down to the very pavement itself. They wore close-fitting

-metal collars and were chained together, literally, by the neck. I gasped. “Do

not n-find such women,” said Ligurious. “They are nothing. They are only

slaves.” I was shaken by this sight. My heart was pounding rapidly. I could

scarcely breathe. It was not outrage which I felt, interestingly, nor pity. It

was something else. It was a state of unusual sexual excitement, and arousal.

“Smile,” suggested Ligurious, himself lifting his hand graciously to the crowd.

“Wave.”

I controlled myself, and then, again, favored the crowd with my attentions, with

my smiles and countenance.

At one time, later, we passed by a set of low, broad, recessed-from-the-street,

cement steps or shelves. Behind these levels, these shelves or steps, there was

a high cement wall.

There were several women, perhaps ten or eleven, on these steps or shelves. Most

were white but there were at least two blacks and, I think, one oriental. Each

was naked, absolutely.

Too, chains ran from heavy rings to their bodies, to perhaps a lovely neck, or a

fair wrist or ankle. They were fastened in place, literally, on the cement

shelves. As the retinue passed, they oriented themselves to the street and

knelt, their h ads down to the warm cement. There were more rings than there

were women on the shelves, and there were rings, too, set at various heights, in

the wall behind the shelves. These rings, too, however, like many of the shelf

rings, were not being used. There was ail apparatus at one side, like a canopy

wrapped about poles, but it, too, was not now in use.

I looked at the women, naked, kneeling, their heads down, chained on the

shelves.

“More slaves,” explained Ligurious.

Again I fought for breath. I clutched the side of the palanquin to steady

myself.

“What is wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing.”

“It was only an open-air market,” he said, “a small one.

There are several such in Corcyrus.”

“A market!” I said.

“Yes,” He said.

“But what is bought and sold there?” I asked. I recalled the naked, chained’

beauties.

“Women,” he said.

“Women!” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I see,” I said. How matter-of-factly he had put thatl Such markets, clearly,

like other sorts of markets, were a common feature of Gorean life.

“Bow, and wave,” he suggested.

Again I lifted my hand to the crowds. Again I smiled forth from the palanquin.

But I began to tremble. I had seen owned, displayed human females, women who

were merchandise, women who were literally up for sale.

“Put them from your mind,” said Ligurious. “They are nothing, only slaves.”

How terrifying, how horrifying, I thought, to be such a woman, one at the mercy

of anyone who has the means to buy her. What a horrifying and categorical thing

it would be, I thought, to be subject to sale.

“Hail Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!” I heard.

“The people love you,” said Ligurious.

On this world, I said to myself, a woman could be literally owned by a man. She

could be as much his, literally, as a shoe or a dog. I fought the feelings

within me. I strove’ against them. I tried to force the memory of the women

chained on the shelves from my mind. I could not do so. I moaned. Then I could

no longer deny to myself that I was aroused sexually, helplessly and terribly.

The crowds, from time to time, surged closer to the palanquin. The guards,

flanking the palanquin on both sides, pressed them back with the sides of

spears. Among these guards, though he did not have a spear, was Drusus Rencius.

He had been assigned to me, some weeks ago, as my personal guard. Behind the

retinue, following it, came soldiers. Some of these had canvas sacks slung about

their shoulders. From these sacks, from time to time, they would fling coins,

and bits of coins, to the street. This was, I thought, a nice gesture. The

people would scramble for these coins. It seemed they found them very precious.

I continued to smile and wave to the crowd. From time to time, too, I stole a

glance at Drusus Rencius. He, however, walking beside the palanquin, had eyes

only for the crowd. Outside, perhaps, I seemed charming and benign. Inside,

however, almost uncontrollable emotions raged within me. On what sort of world

was this that I found myself I I had not known a woman could be so aroused!

Again I looked at Drusus Rencius, and the others, guardsmen of Corcyrus. I

wondered what it would be like to be owned by a man such as one of those. The

thought almost made me faint with passion. I had no doubt they well knew bow to

teach a woman her slavery. I would be kept by them by the lash, if necessary.

“Is anything amiss, my Tatrix?” inquired Ligurious.

“No,” I said. “No!”

Then I continued, again, to smile and bow, to nod and wave to the crowd.

I hoped that my condition was not evident to the stern, practical Ligurious,

first minister of Corcyrus.

His maleness, and Goreanness, too, of course, were felt keenly by me.

At his least word I would have stripped myself in the silken palanquin and

presented myself publicly to him for his pleasures.

Soon the procession began to wend its way back to the palace. One incident,

perhaps worthy of note, occurred. A man rushed forth, angrily, from the crowd,

to the very side of the palanquin. Drusus Rencius caught him there and flung him

back. I screamed, startled. In a moment, the retinue stopped, the man was held

by the arms, on his knees, at the side of the palanquin.

Swords were held at the man’s neck. “He is unarmed,” said Drusus Rencius.

“Down with Sheila, not Tatrix but Tyranness of Corcyrus!” cried the man, looking

angrily upward.

“Silence!” said Ligurious.

“You shall pay for your crimes and cruelties!” cried the man. “Not forever will

the citizens of Corcyrus brook the outrages of the palace!”

“Treason!” cried Ligurious.

The man was struck at the side of the head by the butt of a spear. I cried out,

in misery.

“This man is a babbling lunatic,” said Ligurious to me.

“Pay him no attention, my Tatrix.”

The fellow, his head bloody, sagged, half unconscious, in the grip of the

soldiers.

“Bind him,” said Ligurious. The man’s arms were wrestled behind his back and

tied there.

He looked up, his bead bloody, from his knees.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“One who protests the crimes and injustice of Sheila, Tyranness of Corcyrus!” he