Swordsmen of Gor (72 page)

The paga girl, or paga slave, is a well-known form of slave to Gorean free males. Indeed, many a slave, with an envied private master, had begun her bondage, fresh from the block, in the taverns, no more than another belled slave, summonable to the whips and chains of an alcove, her use accompanying, if one wished, the price of the drink she brings to the table. And, too, of course, many men first found their personal slave in so unlikely a place, little suspecting that the collared beauty, kneeling, head down at the table, serving their paga, one of others, might somehow come to seem special to them. Idly, perhaps as little more than a matter of course, she is ordered, as might be any other, to an alcove. But in the alcove, fastened in her chains, she seems to him interestingly, surprisingly, different from many others. He tests her body and discovers, to his interest, that her responses to his touch are extraordinary, and piteous. With what hope she looks at him and presses her lips to his whip. There seems something special in her responsiveness. He fears she might become of interest to him, and so, finished with her, he spurns her, thrusting her aside with his foot, leaving her behind him, in her chains, unable to follow, in tears. But he finds it difficult to forget her, her startled eyes, the leaping of her body. He recalls the slight sound of her silk, almost inaudible, as she knelt by the table, and how it fell about her, with its diaphanous mockery of concealment, as she preceded him obediently to the alcove. He recalls, in the alcove, how, writhing, she grasped the chain above her wrist rings, how she lifted her body and implored him not to desist in his touch, and, later, the wild jangle of the bells on her ankle as, ungovernedly in his power, she kicked wildly. He patronizes the tavern again, perhaps, and again, and finds she hurries to kneel before him, and take his order. When he dares, he sends her again to the alcove, and perhaps confirms what he had most feared, that she is not merely another slave to him, but that she is muchly different, and that they may have been selected for one another by nature, he as master, she as slave. So, eventually he buys her. She costs him more than he would care to admit to his fellows, but he will make it up, many times over, out of her lovely hide. And it is not such a fearful thing, he later learns, really, to have at his feet one for whom he would die, a love slave, and one who knew him, from his first touch, as her long longed-for love master. And so in the mysterious ways of nature the match is made. One must, of course, be particularly strict with a love slave, severe in her discipline, and such, not hesitating to put her to the whip for her least laxity or failure to fully please, but she would have it no other way, for he is her master.

I had stopped one girl at the foot of the ramp, my finger to her shoulder, who was carrying a number of garments. She stood very straight, and kept her head up, and looked straight ahead. “Slave tunics,” I said. “Yes, Master,” she said. “Proceed,” I said. “Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.” I had seen other girls, similarly burdened. These were surely more tunics than were required for our girls. I had similarly examined the burdens, shallow boxes, of two or three fellows, as well, as they would ascend the ramp. These boxes, to my interest, contained an abundance of custodial hardware, coffle chains, siriks, slave bracelets, ankle rings, and such. It was light chaining, such as is used for the chaining of women. I saw more than one fellow ascend the ramp with, strung on a spear, over his shoulder, a large number of dangling slave collars, with their keys wired to them. The collars were sturdy, but light, and comfortable, such as are put on women. Another fellow carried a number of irons, of the sort which are used to brand animals. From these observations I supposed that Lords Nishida and Okimoto might have in mind a disposition for the women of the enemy or, at least, those who pleased their senses. The women of the enemy, of course, become the property of the victors. I noted, incidentally, no such arrangements, heavy chaining or such, prepared for male prisoners. The war, as I recalled from a remark of Lord Nishida in the pavilion of Lord Okimoto, was to the knife, without quarter.

Torgus, Ichiro, Lysander, and others, would be with the cavalry. The birds would be brought aboard later, in some four days, joining us near the mouth of the Alexandra.

On the other side of the ship, larger ports had been opened now, and, on ramps sloping up from the water, the six galleys were being drawn on board, and were being rolled to berths in a lower hold. Similar boarding ports were on the starboard side, which was now near the wharf, lying against its cushions of rolled leather, these to prevent damage to either ship or wharf. In this way, galleys might be nested from either side of the great ship.

Tajima, who was standing beside me, suddenly stepped back, and bowed. I, too, bowed. Lord Okimoto himself was boarding, being borne in a sedan chair by eight Pani, which chair was followed by an entourage of contract women and guards.

After this, Aëtius, who seemed to be the fellow in charge of supervising matters, began to marshal and board, in long lines, both Pani and others.

“Four days,” said Tajima. He would be with the cavalry.

“That is our estimate,” I said.

“I understand,” said Tajima.

Much depended on the current, and whether or not the descent of the Alexandra would be without incident. The downriver journey had been sounded with care, but a river is not a bridge, a street, a reliable road of stone, layered in blocks, like a sunken wall, feet into the earth, like the Viktel Aria, leading to Ar, built for millennia. The river is less reliable. Its twists and turns might differ from week to week, even day to day. Floods can extend her shores, and rearrange her depths and course. Droughts can dry and parch her. It is hard to know, to predict, the whims, vagaries, and moods, the surfeits and famines, of a river.

The estimate of four days was from the time it had taken two small boats to reach Thassa.

“Be certain,” I said, “to board the tarns before we are beyond the sight of land.”

“I understand,” he said.

I did not think that Lord Nishida would care to delay his voyage at the mouth of the Alexandra, nor be forced to return.

The tarns had been familiarized, over the past few days, with departing from, and returning to, the quarters prepared for them. Three areas were involved, each on its own deck. The first area was on the first deck below the open deck, and the second and third areas were on the next lower decks. Three ramps were involved, one leading from the third lower deck to the second lower deck, one from the second lower deck to the first lower deck, and one from the first lower deck to the top deck, or open deck, once a great hatch had been rolled back.

Three men passed, lifting their hands in salute, which salute I returned. These were Telarion, Fabius, and Tyrtaios, whom I had met in the tent of Lord Nishida at Tarncamp, the night of the feast. At least one, I had gathered from Lord Nishida, was a spy, and one amongst them, the same or another, was of the Assassins. These three, I had noted, had been present at the pyre a few nights past, which pyre had supposedly been that of the shipwright, Tersites.

“I would you were with the cavalry,” said Tajima.

“Perhaps we will ply the wind road later, together, at sea,” I said.

“Lord Nishida does not trust you,” he said.

“I know,” I said.

Tajima was to command the cavalry in my absence.

As we were speaking, numerous Pani, and mercenaries, were ascending the ramp, boarding.

I could already see smoke to the east.

“They have begun to burn the camp,” I said.

“I must return to the cavalry,” said Tajima.

“I wish you well,” I said.

“I, too, wish you well, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said. He then turned about, and withdrew.

I watched men ascending the ramp, boarding.

“Pertinax,” I said, for he had approached. With him were Cecily and his Jane, both protected against the cold. Both were fetching, even jacketed and cloaked as they were. It is interesting how attractive slaves are, even when bundled. Perhaps that is because one knows they are slaves, and not free women. One can then, so to speak, unbundle them. One is well aware of what lies beneath that bundling, a slave, in her collar.

“Tal,” said he.

“Tal,” said I.

To be sure, not even free women are immune from the speculations of virile males. Do they not sometimes understand the eyes of men are upon them,
speculatively
. One would suppose so. One wonders if they suspect, within all those layerings, scarves, hoods, and veils, what the men are thinking. Would they be uneasy if they knew how they were viewed by strong men, would they tremble, would they be afraid, or would they redden and glow, as though helpless at a master’s feet? Surely they must understand those looks. They must be aware that men are conjecturing their lineaments, curiously, even idly, appraisingly, wondering if, under all that paraphernalia, all those wrappings, there might be something worth putting to its knees, worth collaring, and owning. Are the men conjecturing what they might look like, on a chain, being exhibited to buyers, naked, as women are sold, and such, perhaps groveling on the furs in an alcove, hoping to be found pleasing, perhaps even tunicked, barefoot, being sent to a market, running along, lightly, collared, on their errands.

The great majority of women on Gor are, of course, free women, of many diverse castes. On the other hand, female slavery is common. One sees them in the streets, in the markets, in the fields, and so on. Few slaves, statistically, are obtained from the slave farms. Most were originally free women, obtained by capture, in raids, by abduction, in war, and such.

As noted earlier the women of the enemy become the property of the victor. They are booty, as much as vessels, cloths, metals, kaiila, and such. To be sure, they are a particularly desirable form of booty, and men enjoy having it about, as slaves. Most slaves are purchased, of course, in the markets, where their captors put them up for sale. The sales-platform girls are supplemented, to some extent, by captures brought from Earth, but those captures, though quite numerous, abstractly considered, constitute only a small fraction of Gorean female slaves, perhaps one in two or three hundred. They do tend to be popular in the markets, however, perhaps in part due to their charms as barbarians but, too, I suspect, due to their responsiveness to Gorean males, men of a sort for whom their former civilizations and cultures have but ill prepared them. Never had they thought to be at the feet of such men, slaves, to what are to them uncompromising and magnificent beasts. They are, of course, merely the natural male, who is a master by nature.

It seemed clear, from materials brought on board, shackles, collars, and such, that Lords Nishida and Okimoto might have in mind, were their projects successful, the acquisition of large numbers of women, who might then be distributed, or sold. This is a way, of course, familiar on Gor, of financing further campaigns, further actions, and such.

Consider such women, now the property of victors.

Their rich raiment and status will be exchanged for the tunic of a slave, if that, and a collar. No longer do they possess goods but are now themselves goods. And let these goods then kneel and press their soft lips to the boots of conquerors, gratefully, thankful for their lives, spared now, at least for a time. And let them tremble, as well, realizing they are now no longer their own, but belong to masters, in whose grasp they will discover what it is to be a slave. The tiring, complex games of the free woman are now behind them. It is now theirs to serve and please, or die. Surely in their dreams they have considered this sort of thing, and now they discover, on their knees, it has become their reality. And what might it be, they might wonder, which has won them this incredible, welcome reprieve, temporary as it might be, from the ax or torch? Could it be that it is their sex and beauty, their exquisite features and lovely slave curves, to which they may have hitherto given little thought, save for occasionally regarding them in the mirror, perhaps wondering what they might be worth on a sales platform, those and, of course, the lust of men, to which they owe their lives? Perhaps. Had they been hitherto curious, perhaps idly so, as to what they might sell for in an open market, what price they might bring an owner who vends them, with others? They may now learn. Had they considered, hitherto, what it might be to be in the arms of a master? They will now learn.

“Thank you for bringing her,” I said to Pertinax, indicating Cecily.

He nodded. We had arranged it so, for I had come early to the wharf, to observe more of the lading.

I spoke of Cecily as having been brought, for she was a slave. In this sense, she had not accompanied Pertinax, but had been brought by him, as might have been, say, a dog. The same held for his Jane, of course.

Last night, leaving the slaves chained in the shed, we had boarded our gear.

Pertinax, no more than I, by the instructions of Lord Nishida, was to be with the cavalry. In its way, this was flattering. It indicated that Lord Nishida now regarded Pertinax as someone with whom to reckon. Too, of course, Pertinax and I shared quarters, could speak a language unfamiliar to most of the Pani, and so on. Pertinax, then, probably primarily because of his relationship with me, was now conceived of as deserving suspicion.

I supposed this was a compliment, in its way.

On the other hand, it was one which I, at least, would have been just as pleased to be without.

I wondered if he realized that his life must now be in greater danger.

If Lord Nishida decided to do away with me, I would suppose that Pertinax would be included in the instructions.

On the wharf, their progress arrested, Cecily and Jane knelt, as was appropriate for slaves in the presence of free persons. It would have been the same had a free woman been present.

Such things might seem unimportant or inconsequential to those unfamiliar with cultural protocol, but they are not. They are quite important and quite consequential. Such things, perhaps seemingly small to an outsider, are rich with significance. They, in their beauty and appropriateness, make perfectly clear relationships and conditions which are momentous. The
kajira
realizes very clearly why she is on her knees. She is a slave. Such a posture and attitude is quite meaningful to the collar-wearer. What may be more difficult for the outsider to grasp is that she regards this posture and attitude as appropriate for her. She feels comfortable and secure on her knees. As a slave, she knows she belongs on her knees. But, too, mastered, she wants to kneel, and loves doing so.