Smugglers of Gor

Chapter Forty-Two



It was the morning of the day following the capture of the Panther Women, the appearance of the sleen in their camp, my experience with the beast, and its recovery by the sleen master. Too, of course, I had discovered that the sleen master had not been alone, but, to my astonishment and consternation, to my outrage, humiliation, fear, and fury, I now helplessly caught, to my hatred and relief, to my fear, misery, and joy, was accompanied by another, one whom I well knew, even if it were not one by whom I was well known.

How angry I was that he had found me, and how I had longed to see him again, and how I had feared I might never see him again!

How pleased I was to have been caught.

But of course I had not wanted to see him again, for I despised, and hated him, such a ruthless, uncaring, thoughtless, uncompromising brute, and master!

How terrifying it would be to be owned by such a man, to be his, to be done with as he pleased!

Why had he not bought me?

Surely I was not expensive, might I not be within his means?

Did he not want me?

I hated him.

I wanted to be at his feet, head down, naked and collared, my lips pressed to his sandals, hoping to be found acceptable, even pleasing.

Was I truly nothing but another slave to him, merely another piece of meaningless collar-meat, to be indifferently fetched from a pen, or block, by a coin?

How I hated him!

How I wanted his collar!

Then I was afraid. What if he were companioned? Might he buy me for his companion? Would she sense that I was his slave? How cruel she would be to me! Might he keep me to the side, in rented space, in a girl stable, to be used when convenient?

Or would he want me, at all?

Was I truly so inferior, such common stock?

I loathed the thought of his touch.

How I would struggle to resist him!

How I would cry out, and whimper, begging for his least touch!

I wanted to be at his feet, alone there, where I belonged, in the place of a slave.

He and Axel of Argentum seemed to be free enough in the camp. Certainly they moved about as they wished. I did note they carried no weapons. Too, I had gathered they might have spent the night on a chain. All that was done with Tula, Mila, and myself was a simple rope ankle-coffle. A long rope had been looped and knotted about our left ankles, and then the rope was tied at each end to a tree. As it was fastened, Tula, had she desired to do so, could not reach the tree to her left to undo the knot, as the rope, knotted about the tree to her right, would not permit her to do so; similarly, I could not, had I desired to do so, reach the knot to my right to undo it, as the far knot on the left would not permit me to do so. Thus neither Tula nor I could free the rope of the two trees to which it was tied. Mila, of course, was between us. I supposed we might have tried to chew through the rope, which was not, as far as I knew, cored with wire, but this did not seem practical. Two guards were posted, and moved, from time to time, about the camp. What if, in the morning, the rope had been found damp, or partially bitten? Too, the forest is likely to be particularly dangerous at night. Twice I had heard the territorial roar of a forest panther, happily far off. But I had also heard, at about the second Ahn, the movement of some beast near the camp’s periphery. It may have been only a tarsk. I did not know. Fires were tended through the night. The prisoners’ night, I might mention, was less pleasant than ours. In addition to their ankles remaining shackled, and their neck-coffle being fastened to a tree, their wrists were bound behind their backs. Tula had prepared the supper yesterday evening. I had gathered that free women, at least of the upper castes, were commonly useless in the domiciles. It is not a matter of accident, I gathered, that slaves, in their training, are often taught something of cooking, marketing, sewing, the care of leather and silver, dusting, scrubbing, laundering, and such things. Interestingly, slaves often take a homely pleasure in such things. They realize such tasks are not demeaning to them, but appropriate to them, as they are slaves. Also, as slaves, they take pleasure in serving, and wish to please their masters. Too, most like a well-kept domicile. Beyond this, hanging on its peg, is always the whip.

Tula, Mila, and I had served the men. Tula seemed particularly attentive to Aeson, and Mila to Genak. Tula had approached Genserich, but she had been warned away by Donna. I made it a point not to serve, or approach, either the sleen master or his fellow. I hoped that would be obvious to one of them in particular. In serving, I think I walked well, knelt well, and served well, with suitable slave deference. When addressed I spoke as was appropriate, softly, respectfully, submissively, and clearly, for good diction is expected of a slave. Indeed, as slaves, we would not have dared to be otherwise. “You are a barbarian,” observed a fellow. “Yes, Master,” I had said. “Forgive me, Master.” He had then turned to the fellow beside him. “What do you think?” he asked. I felt myself studied. “A silver tarsk,” said the other. I did not look about, but I hoped that another present had heard that. It was more than twice what I had sold for in Brundisium. “You may withdraw,” said the fellow. “Thank you, Master,” I said, and rose to my feet, backed away, and then turned, and went again with the bowl ladle, its handle wrapped in cloth, to the cauldron over the fire. As I mentioned, I avoided the sleen master and his fellow, in the serving. I am not sure they noticed this. They seemed pleasantly enough engaged, in bantering with the men of the attackers. In any event, neither summoned me to him. That was all right. There was no reason to do so, of course. I did not mind. I was pleased. Tula and Mila would do quite as well. When the men were finished, Donna, Tula, Mila, and I, so instructed, surprised, knelt to one side. We discovered that we, though slaves, were to be served by the prisoners. This well outraged the shackled mistresses, for they were free women. Too, though they were free, they had not yet been fed. For this service, they, though remaining shackled, were removed from the neck rope, that their serving might be the more easily accomplished. Darla and Tuza would serve Donna, who was first girl, and Emerald and Hiza would serve Tula, Mila, and myself. Tuza, smugly, a small smile about her lips, approached Donna. In a moment Donna cried out in pain, and leaped to her feet. “It is an accident!” said Tuza, now alarmed. “I will show you another accident, dear Mistress!” cried Donna. Her switch was like a nest of striking snakes, so swiftly did it strike, again and again. I could scarcely follow the flash of the leather. Tuza, shackled, helpless, was on the ground, rolling, and weeping. “Mercy,” she begged. “Mercy!” “Stay as you are!” snapped Donna, “as you are, on your back, hands at your side!” Donna then threw down her switch and seized up the fallen bowl-ladle and made her way to the cauldron. “Please, no!” wept Tuza. “Stay as you are,” said Donna. “Do not move.” “No, please, no!” begged Tuza. Then the scalding contents of the brimming bowl-ladle were dashed onto her body, and she shrieked in misery. “It is an accident,” said Donna. Tuza, weeping in misery, with a rattle of chain, crawled away. Donna then resumed her place. “Serve me,” she said to Darla. “Of course,” said Darla. It might be noted that the men did not much notice, and they certainly did not interfere in the altercation which took place between Donna and Tuza. Doubtless that was to be expected. Masters seldom interfere in such matters, for example, in the squabbles of slaves. If there is more than one female slave in a camp, in a household, or such, one is almost always appointed “first girl.” Otherwise one might have chaos. The first girl stands in the place of the master. It is her task to keep order amongst the other slaves, and she answers only to the master. I would suppose that most “first girls” are judicious and fair but some, doubtless, abuse their authority, have their favorites, distribute ornaments, cosmetics, silks, candies, pastries, delicacies, and such selectively, and make life miserable in a variety of ways for others, less favored, with respect to work assignments, discipline, and such, which matters are largely in her hands. It is not well for a first girl to take a dislike to one. Such dislikes may be diversely motivated, but a common one is jealousy. A particularly attractive slave is perhaps most in jeopardy. She may be frequently caged. If the household is large she may be kept hidden from the master. She is not likely to be a stranger to the first girl’s switch. Most first girls are responsive to flattery. The favorites are often sycophants. Some first girls seem to think they are free women, until they kneel before the master. And it is well-known how free women feel about slaves, view them, and treat them. One constraint on the first girl is that she may be changed, and then find herself, so reduced, only one slave amongst others, now defenseless, without protection amongst those over whom she may have been accustomed to tyrannize. Most slaves, as I may have noted, desire to be the one slave of one master, a private master. Emerald and Hiza served Tula, Mila, and myself without incident. Both seemed to be seriously shaken. Doubtless they had profited vicariously from the lesson which Donna had administered to the unwise and errant Tuza. Too, I supposed that it must be difficult for them, free women, to be stripped and shackled before us, tunicked slaves, serving us as though we might be free and they the slaves. Emerald leaned forward, and whispered, “What is it like to be a slave?” “Perhaps you will learn,” I said to her. Hiza looked angrily at me. “And perhaps you, as well,” I said. “Never!” she hissed. And then she turned back to me, and said, “I am afraid.” I touched my collar, without really thinking about it. “That is appropriate,” I said, adding, “Mistress.”

After we had been fed, the prisoners were returned to the neck rope and allowed to feed themselves. I do not think there was all that much left by then, as nothing was saved for the next day. The prisoners were then taken to the edge of the camp where they relieved themselves, and then their neck rope was fastened to its tree, and they were put prone to the ground and had their hands tied behind their backs.

“What is to be done with us?” had asked Darla, shortly after her hands had been fastened behind her, trying to look up, of Genserich, who was nearby, observing the securing of the prisoners.

“You will learn tomorrow,” he had said.

I was thinking of escaping, but then the rope was looped about my left ankle.

And now it was that day, tomorrow, so to speak, the morning of the day following the capture of the Panther Women, that following my menacing at the jaws of a large sleen, and its fortunate, if somewhat belated, restraint by the sleen master. Too, of course, it was the day following the arrival in camp of another, one who had apparently accompanied the sleen master and his beast, Tiomines, in what had proved to be a successful hunt, the quarry of which had been a barbarian slave.

I wiped the slave gruel from my lips with the back of my right forearm. I held the bowl in my left hand and went to the river to rinse it. Afterwards I stood for a little time on the shore, thinking of running. But it was light, and there were men about. And at night, one is on the rope. I understood that Genserich had some interest in Tiomines, and so I did not think he would permit the sleen to hunt me, for he might then lose the beast. It would be best, of course, if Tiomines would be conducted back to Shipcamp. No other hunting sleen were about. I looked across the water. I knew little of the south shore of the Alexandra. I did know that in the vicinity of Shipcamp, across the river, there were some buildings, including a mysterious stockade, where, it was rumored, prize slaves were housed, under great security, presumably to be boarded on the great ship, shortly before its departure.

I looked back to the camp.

I had been caught.

What chance has a girl if a sleen is on her scent?

I did not think they could catch me again, as, if all went well, there would be no sleen.

My vanity had been stung by the ease with which Emerald had captured me in the forest. Surely I had been an easily snared “vulo.” How could I forget that? And she was not even a man! But I reminded myself that I, even had I wished to be so, could not have begun to be a match for her. How large, stern, severe, and powerful she had seemed, so different from myself. How formidable she had seemed, in her freedom, her pride, her size and sturdiness, in her rude skins, in her barbaric ornaments, with her dagger and spear. And I was slight, small, weak, and defenseless, and feminine, fit on this world to be only a female slave. The others, too, had seemed so large, so powerful, so forceful, so mannish, like women who were not women, but men. But then how small, weak, and female they had proved to be when compared not to me, but to actual men. Their skins gone, their ornaments removed, put to their knees, shackled, on a rope, how suddenly female they were. And now they were frightened. No longer did they seem proud Panther Women, but rather, now, only women, the captures of large and powerful men.

I must return to the camp.

It would not do, to be missed, at least not for too long.

I had been caught, first by the Panther Women, and then by the attackers, as simply one slave amongst others, as might be one kaiila amongst others, and then, I suppose, in a sense, by the sleen master and his fellow. Certainly the sleen had found me, and held me in place, doubtless expecting the hunters to be at hand, but they had not been. Happily, they had managed to arrive in time, moments before, it seemed, the sleen would feed.

I turned about, and, again, looked across the river. It was broad at this point, shimmering in the morning light. But, too, I was sure it was deep, for I knew it had been well sounded, and frequently, by the men in small boats. These had now been recalled, as the departure of the great ship was imminent, but would doubtless precede her in the voyage downstream. The channel of a river can be treacherous, in its turns and depths. Debris can accumulate. Bars can be formed overnight. I knew charts had been prepared. Following a false channel one can run aground.

A bird skimmed its surface, fishing. The forest looked small, on the other side.

I recalled the serving of yesterday’s evening.

I had ignored him. Let him be stung by that, ignored by a slave! But he had not interjected his will, summoning me to him. I should have had to obey. The lash is not pleasant. But he had not summoned me to him!

Why had he not done so?

Could it be that he, truly, did not want me, that I was nothing to him, only another slave?

Had he truly pursued me only for pleasure, only for the hunt, as one might pursue any animal, a verr, a tabuk?

I did not think so.

Not at all.

I think he wanted me.

He would not have me. If he scorned me, I would scorn him, by flight, by departing. Next time there would be no sleen.

I would have my revenge. Let him hunger for a slave who was indifferent to him, one he might desire but who did not desire him, one who would be forever beyond his grasp, one whom he would never have, one who loathed him, who despised him, who found him repulsive, who hated him, who scorned him, whose most dreaded fate would be to fall into his hands.

Yes, Master, I thought, want me, dream of me, long to own me, long to have your name on my collar, your bracelets on my wrists, long to fling me as a rightless chattel to your slave ring, but it will not be!

I hate you, I hate you!

I must get back, I thought.

There was a stirring in the camp above, and so I turned about, and, carrying my now-rinsed gruel bowl, climbed up the slope to the camp.