Authors: John Norman
"Many free women work,” said Cabot. “Even free women of the upper castes often work. Not all have slaves or servants. Too, work is quite common with free women of the lower castes."
"I do not see why I should work,” she said.
"Prisoners often work,” said Cabot.
"Not I!” she said.
"Lita will help you,” said Cabot. “She will show you what to do. I have given her instructions."
"Instructions?"
"As to your duties,” said Cabot.
"'Duties'?” she said.
"Certainly,” said Cabot.
"Duties—duties fit for a slave!” she cried.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"But I am a free woman!” she cried, looking to Lord Grendel.
"But a prisoner,” Cabot reminded her.
"I will never be so demeaned!” she said. “Never!"
"You are not only a prisoner,” said Cabot, “but you are a woman who has a bell on her neck."
"So?” she said, warily.
"Thus you are a belled woman,” he said.
"Is that meaningful?” she asked.
"What do you think?” he said.
She shook the bell, angrily, but could not pull it from her neck.
"Commonly,” said Cabot, “save in the Tahari, it is only slaves who are belled."
"Take it off!” she demanded.
"To be sure,” said Cabot, “it is not a slave bell, or bells, but a leading bell, merely one to lure docile beasts to an unanticipated slaughter."
She glanced uneasily toward the perimeter of the camp.
"It might, of course, be pleasant,” said Cabot, “to put you in slave bells, perhaps ankle bells, wrist bells, waist bells, neck bells, and such."
"I am a free woman,” she said. “I will not work."
"As you will,” said Cabot, “but our Kur friends will be watching you."
"So?” she said.
"Several of them,” he said, “have urged your death by torture."
The Lady Bina shuddered.
"Including the camp master, who is watching you, even now,” said Cabot.
She looked about, and saw the camp master, indeed, regarding her, and not pleasantly. She made it a point not to meet his eyes.
Women often fear to meet the eyes of those who have authority over them. What if their glance should be interpreted as boldness?
What might then be the consequences?
Indeed, some masters do not permit their female slaves to meet their eyes. Commonly, however, the Gorean master wishes a slave to meet his eyes, that he may the better see the beauty of her eyes, and the better read her least expression. Indeed, few women know themselves more helplessly exposed, or more helplessly understood, or better read, than by a Gorean master.
In the presence of a master, it is difficult for them to conceal the least nuance of thought, or emotion, or feeling.
They are in his collar.
"You will work, and work well,” said Cabot.
"No!” she said.
"But, yes,” said Cabot.
"Lord Grendel will protect me!” she said.
"I am sure he would do so, if at all possible,” said Cabot. “But he might not have time. A throat may be bitten through in a moment, a sudden blow may snap the neck, a heart, even, may be gouged out in an instant. To be sure, you might, with some luck, be avenged, and you might find some consolation in that possibility, but that only if the culprit were identified, and there is little assurance of such a thing."
"You are trying to frighten me,” she said.
"I think you should hasten to Lita's side,” Cabot said, “to be instructed in your duties."
The Lady Bina looked from side to side, angrily.
"There is the camp master,” said Cabot. “He is still looking this way. I do not think he is pleased. He has his whip."
"His
whip
?"
"Certainly."
"He is one who wished me slain?” she said.
"Yes,” said Cabot. “One of several."
The Lady Bina turned white.
"And have no fear,” said Cabot, “aside from other considerations, hostility, and such, he will not hesitate to put the whip to you. You are not even of his species."
"Give me other clothing,” she said, “not this thin, tiny thing!"
"You may remove it, if you wish,” said Cabot.
At that point the camp master, who was not a patient sort, cracked the whip, suddenly, sharply, and the sound resounded throughout the camp.
That is a sound which is unmistakable.
Certainly it is familiar to slaves, even to those who may not have felt it, but well understand they are subject to its jurisdiction, and its remonstrances, and even to its gratuitous whims.
And, needless to say, it is a sound which even free women, as they are women, understand.
The Lady Bina then, uttering a small cry of misery, turned about and rushed from their presence.
"The human female runs interestingly, does she not?” asked Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot, “and attractively, I think. It has to do with the hip structure."
"Doubtless,” said Grendel.
"And most cannot begin to outrun males either,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless,” said Grendel.
"And that is doubtless why many of them end up in collars,” said Cabot.
"Doubtless,” said Lord Grendel.
Chapter, the Forty-Sixth:
DARKNESS ENCROACHES;
A PLAN IS FORMED
In Lord Grendel's small group, one of several, there were some forty Kurii and some twenty to thirty humans.
"Intelligence is clear,” said Lord Grendel, addressing his group. “The enemy is massing."
"How is that known?” asked Cabot. It was difficult to attain such intelligence recently, for the cordons of purple scarves seemed ever more imminent, their patrols ever bolder and more intrusive.
"Noble Flavion has again pierced enemy lines and lived to return,” said Lord Grendel.
"He is the subtlest and most effective of scouts,” said one of the Kurii.
"Without him we would be blind,” said another.
"Well done, Flavion,” said Cabot.
"I go alone, I take care,” said the scout.
"Few,” said Cabot, “have penetrated as deeply into the territory of Agamemnon, and returned to report."
"I have been fortunate,” said Flavion.
"The exterior enemy, that outside the world, has been driven off,” said one of their group. “This releases those forces to band against us."
"Alas,” said Flavion, “that is true, and is now known to all."
"It was first discovered by you,” said a Kur.
"Days ago,” said Flavion.
"The game is done,” said a Kur.
"Might we not surrender, or sue for peace?” said a Kur.
"Never, never!” growled Flavion, fiercely. “We must fight! We must fight to the death!"
"We are too few, too weak,” said one of the Kurii.
"Take courage from Flavion,” said Lord Grendel. “He is the finest and fiercest amongst us."
"I wish,” said Cabot, “that I had his skills."
"He is as silent as the fall of darkness, as unseen as the wind,” said one of the Kurii.
"Such skills,” thought Cabot, “might have been the envy even of the Red Savages, of the Gorean Barrens."
"It is strange to think that he was once no more than a scavenger Kur,” said a Kur.
"I am honored to be accepted amongst you,” said Flavion.
"The honor is ours,” said Lord Grendel.
"My smaller size,” said Flavion, “facilitates my humble contributions, if contributions they be, to our cause."
"At great risk to his life, through closely set enemy lines,” said another, “he came to us."
"To fight beside you, for our cause,” said Flavion, “justifies any risk."
"Welcome to you, a thousand times,” said Lord Grendel. “We salute you. Few, if any, could have proved more valuable to our cause."
"We must be prepared,” said Flavion, “to die bravely."
"I, myself,” said Cabot, “would prefer to live, even if somewhat less bravely."
Flavion turned to regard Cabot.
Whereas Flavion was not large for a Kur, he was considerably larger than Cabot, and most human beings.
"He is human,” explained Lord Grendel.
"We are too few to fight,” said one of the Kurii.
"Too,” said another, uneasily, “is it not forbidden, even heinous, to contend as we are, against the lawful state, against the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One."
"Arcesilaus stood against him,” said a Kur.
"Arcesilaus is dead,” said another.
"We do not know that,” said Cabot.
"We are too few,” said a Kur, again.
"Might we not recruit neutrals, nondominants?” asked Cabot.
"There are few neutrals,” said a Kur.
"The nondominants,” said Statius, “are weak, and useless. They fear only to be driven off by their queens."
"Were you not once a nondominant?” asked a Kur of Statius.
"Once,” said Statius. “No more. Do you wish to fight to the death?"
"No,” responded the Kur.
I have chosen the word ‘queens’ with some reluctance, as the social arrangements do not support the choice, but ‘Ubaras’ would be even more inappropriate. ‘Mistresses’ might do, but, as the nondominants are not, strictly speaking, slaves, though perhaps somewhat slavelike, the connotations are incorrect. The archives, abetted by one of the translation programs, though one infrequently utilized, suggest that ‘queens’ may convey something of the relation of a particular female to male courtiers, or servitors. The Kur expression does not translate into Gorean but the expression ‘queens', as suggested, seems not altogether inappropriate. It is an expression in the language, English, which is a language of Earth. It is also the native language, as I understand it, of Tarl Cabot, compatriot of Lord Grendel. Some translators are programmed in that language. Doubtless they have their purposes.
"All is lost,” said one of the Kurii.
"At least we can die bravely,” said another.
"Agamemnon,” said Cabot, “is cruel, arbitrary, unjust, a vain and murderous tyrant, perhaps even mad. I do not understand why so many gladly pledge their blood, their hearts and steel, to him."
"He has position and power,” said a Kur.
"And weapons and soldiers,” said another.
"That is not what is important,” said another.
"What then is important?” asked Cabot.
"You are not Kur,” said a Kur. “You cannot understand."
"Speak,” urged Cabot.
"He is the Eleventh face of the Nameless One,” said a Kur.
"He is Theocrat of the world,” said another, dismally.
"I grant he is Theocrat of the world,” said Cabot, “but how do you know he is the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One?"
"There were ten before him,” said a Kur.
"How is it known that there are faces, or masks, of the Nameless One?” asked Cabot.
"It is accepted,” said a Kur.
"Who is the Nameless One?” asked Cabot.
"Desist,” cautioned Lord Grendel. “The plank on which you tread is weak, and the abyss is deep."
"He who is without a name,” said a Kur.
"He who is before names, and beyond names, and other than names,” said another.
"And before the Nameless One is the Mystery,” said another.
"The Mystery?” asked Cabot.
"That which was, and that which is,” said a Kur, “and that which will be."
"And none have lifted its veil,” said another.
"The Nameless One has many faces?” asked Cabot.
"We do not know how many,” said another Kur.
"Some see him in the ost, others in the larl, or shark, or tharlarion, or sleen,” said another.
"Others in the germination of seed, the blossoming of flowers, in the unsheathing of the thorn."
"Others,” said another, “in the cries of volcanoes, in the openings of the gates of earth, in the flash of lightning, the crash of thunder, in the rush of waters, in the great winds."
"There is no morality here?” asked Cabot.
"No more than in the world,” said another.
"Do you worship the Nameless One?” asked Cabot.
"What is worship?” asked a Kur.
"Do not be misled into heresy,” said a Kur. “There are only Eleven Faces of the Nameless One."
"Some say many,” said another.
"They are mistaken,” said the Kur.
"Why eleven?” asked Cabot.
"Who knows,” he said. “That is the number."
"Why not five, or ten or fifteen?” asked Cabot. “Or a thousand?"
"We do not know,” said another. “Eleven is the number."
"That is the teaching,” said another.
"I do not understand much of this,” said Cabot.
"Do not despair,” said a Kur. “We, too, cannot understand it."
"Much is beyond the scope of the finite mind,” said another.
"Inconsistencies are to be ignored?” asked Cabot.
"Rather, transcended,” said a Kur.
"What if Agamemnon dies?” asked Cabot.
"How can he die?” asked another.
"He is the Eleventh face of the Nameless One,” said another.
"But what if he were to die?” asked Cabot.
"That which speaks through the eleventh mask cannot die,” said a Kur.
"It is one, the Nameless One,” said another.
"Agamemnon is mortal,” said Cabot.
"Perhaps,” said a Kur, “but that which speaks through him cannot die."
"May not a mask die, or be discarded?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said a Kur.
"But perhaps,” said Cabot, “Agamemnon is not the Eleventh Face of the Nameless one. Perhaps he only pretends to be. Perhaps he is a fraud."
"Then the Nameless One would not speak through him,” said a Kur, thoughtfully.
"True,” said another.
"But Agamemnon has himself pronounced that he is the Eleventh Face of the Nameless One,” said another.
"Agamemnon!” said Cabot.
"Yes,” responded the Kur.
"Perhaps he is a liar,” said Cabot.
"No one would dare to lie about such a thing,” said another.
"There is a precedent for such claims,” said Cabot.
"Not amongst us,” said a Kur.
"Unthinkable,” said another Kur.
Cabot may have had in mind the caste of Initiates, on Gor, who claim to speak in the name of the Priest-Kings, to be privileged in such ways, and so on.
"No one would dare to pretend such a thing,” said another.