Captive of Gor (11 page)

too, for she was arrogant! They would remain on Gor, mastered girls, while I,

Elinor Brinton, rich and clever, secure and safe, laughed in my penthouse a

world away! How amusing that would be!

“Why does El-in-or laugh?” asked Ute, looking up.

“Elinor,” I corrected her.

“Elinor,” smiled Ute.

“It is nothing,” I said.

We heard one of the guards shouting outside. We also heard, in the distance,

some bosk bells.

“A retinue!” shouted one of the guards.

“There is a free woman with the retinue!” shouted another.

I heard Targo crying out. “Slaves out!”

I was thrilled. I had never seen a Gorean free woman. A guard hastily unlocked

one end of the ankle bar and lifted it. One by one, we slid along the bar and to

the back edge of the wagon, where the gate had been dropped. My ankles, and

those of the other girls, were still joined, of course, by about a foot of chain

and two ankle rings. As we left the wagon, each of us, one by one, we were

thonged in a line, by binding fiber, in throat coffle. Then, craning for a look,

we lined up beside the wagon. The girls from the other wagon, ahead of us, Lana

among them, were already on the grass, looking.

We could see a large, flat wagon, drawn by four huge, beautifully groomed black

bosk.

On the wagon, under a fringed, silken canopy, on a curule chair, there sat a

woman.

The wagon was flanked by perhaps forty warriors, with spears, twenty to a side.

We could hear the bosk bells, on the harness of the bosk, (pg. 73) quite clearly

now. The retinue would pass close by. Targo had gone out, his blue and yellow

robe swirling, part way to meet it.

“Kneel,” said one of the guards.

We did so, as in the display chain.

A Gorean slave girl in the presence of a free man or woman always kneels, unless

excused from doing so. I had even learned to kneel when addressed by the guards

and, of course, always, when approached by Targo, my master. A Gorean slave,

incidentally, always addresses free men as “Master,” and all free women as

“Mistress.”

I watched the flat wagon rolling closer.

The woman sat regally on the curule chair, wrapped in resplendent, many-colored

silks. Her raiment might have cost more than any three or four of us together

were worth. She was, moreover, veiled.

“Do you dare look upon a free woman?’ asked a guard.

I not only dared, but I was eager to do so. But, nudged by his foot, as the

wagon approached, I lowered my head to the grass, as did the other girls.

The wagon, and the retinue, stopped only a few feet opposite us.

I did not dare to raise my head.

I suddenly then understood that I was not as she. For the first time in my life

I suddenly understood, kneeling in the grass in a Gorean field, the thundering,

devastating realities of social institutions. I suddenly understood, as I had

not before, how on Earth my position and my wealth had created an aura about me,

that made lesser people respect me and move aside when I wished to pass, that

made them deferential to me, eager to please me, fearful should they fail to do

so. How naturally I had carried myself differently then they, better, more

arrogantly. I was better! I was their superior! But now I was taken from my

world.

“Lift you head, Child,” said a woman’s voice.

I did so.

She was no older than I, I am sure, but she addressed me as a child.

The guard’s foot nudged me again.

(pg. 74) “Buy me, Mistress,” I stammered.

“A barbarian,” smiled the woman. “How amusing.”

“I picked her up in the fields,” said Targo. He was anxious that my presence on

his chain not be taken as evidence of his poor judgment. He wished to assure the

woman that he had had me for nothing, that he would not have purchased such an

inferior girl for his chain.

I looked into her eyes. How steadily she regarded me, over her veil, her eyes

amused. How beautiful she seemed. How splendid and fine! I could no longer meet

her eyes.

“You may lower your head, Girl,” she said, not unkindly.

Gratefully I put my head again, swiftly, to the grass.

I was furious with how I acted, how I felt, but I could not help myself.

She was so magnificent. I was nothing. The other girls, too, had their heads to

the grass, kneeling before the free woman. They, like I, were only slaves,

stripped, their ankles chained, their throats in leather coffle, branded girls,

nothing before one who was free.

I wept. I was a slave girl.

There was a rustle of bosk bells and a creak of wheels. Targo moved back, bowing

deeply, and the wagon slowly moved past us. The feet of the flanking guards

passed within a yard or two of us.

When the wagon, and the retinue, had passed us, Targo straightened up. He had a

strange expression on his face.

He was pleased about something.

“Into the wagons,” said Targo.

“Into the wagons!” called the guards.

“Who was she?” asked the grizzled, one-eyed guard.

“The Lady Rena of Lydius,” said Targo, “of the Builders.”

Once again I found myself, with the other girls, chained in our wagon, moving

slowly across the Gorean fields toward Laura.

That night, at a stream, we stopped early to camp. In the evening, the girls,

under guard, attend to various tasks. They tend the bosk, clean the wagons, draw

water and gather firewood. Sometimes they are permitted to cook. Ute and (pg.

75) I, tied together by the throat, but otherwise unimpeded, wearing our

camisks, like the other girls, under a guard, went off with two buckets to

gather berries. There were not many berries, and it was not easy to fill our

buckets. I stole berries from Ute’s bucket, and had mine filled first. We were

not supposed to eat the berries, and I do not think Ute did, but I would slip

them inside my mouth when the guard was not looking. If one was careful to keep

the juices inside there was no telltale sign on the lips and chin. Ute was such

a sweet, precious little fool.

When we returned to the camp it was near dark. I was surprised to see, glowing

near our wagon, a small, hot fire banked with stones. From the fire there

protruded the handles of two irons.

When we had been fed, we were allowed to sit near the wagons. We wore our

camisks. Our only fetter was a length of binding fiber, fastening us together,

at intervals of about a yard. It was tied about the left ankle of each girl.

For some reason the girls did not talk much.

Suddenly the guards leaped to their feet, seizing their spears.

Out of the darkness came two men, warriors. Between them, face-stripped, was a

woman, stumbling. Her arms, over her resplendent robes, were bound to her sides

with a broad leather strap. She was thrown to the feet of Targo. I, and the

other girls, crowded about, but the guards pushed us back with their spears. The

woman struggled to her knees, but was not permitted to rise. Her eyes were wild.

She shook her head, no. Targo then, piece by piece, from the leather pouch at

his belt, handed forty-five pieces of gold to the chief of the two men. The

girls cried out in amazement. It was a fantastic price. And he had not even

assessed her! We realized then that she had been contracted for in advance. The

two men took Targo’s gold and withdrew into the darkness.

“You were foolish to hire mercenaries to guard you,” said Targo.

“Please!” she cried.

I recognized her then. She was the woman with the retinue.

(pg. 76) I felt pleasure.

“Please!” wept the woman. I admitted to myself that she was beautiful.

“You have an admirer,” Targo told her, “a Captain of Tyros, who glimpsed you in

Lydius last fall. He has contracted to buy you privately in Ar, to be taken to

his pleasure gardens on Tyros. He will pay one hundred pieces of gold.”

Several of the girls gasped.

“Who?’ asked the captive, plaintively.

“You will learn when you are sold to him,” said Targo. “Curiosity is not

becoming in a Kajira,” said Targo. “You might be beaten for it.”

I remembered that the large man, on the planet Earth, had said to me this thing.

I gathered that it was a Gorean saying.

The woman, distraught, shook her head.

“Think!” urged Targo. “Were you cruel to someone? Did you slight someone? Did

you not grant someone the courtesy that was his due?”

The woman looked terrified.

“Strip her,” said Targo.

“No! No!” she wept.

The strap was removed from her body, and her clothing cut from her.

She was bound tightly over the large rear wheel of our wagon. Her right thigh,

particularly, was lashed tightly to it, with several straps of binding fiber. I

myself wore my brand on the left thigh.

I watched her being branded.

She screamed terribly, her head back. Then she was sobbing, her cheek pressed

against the rim.

We girls crowded about her.

Her head was down on the rim.

“Lift your head, Child,” I told her.

She lifted her head and gazed at me, her eyes glazed. She was naked. I wore a

camisk! In fury, I struck her face. “Slave!” I screamed. “Slave!” I struck her

again. A guard (pg. 77) pulled me away. Ute went to the girl and put her arms

about her shoulders. Comforting her. I was furious.

“Into the wagons,” called Targo.

“Into the wagons!” repeated the guards.

The binding fiber was removed from our ankles and soon we were chained again in

the wagons.

The new girl was placed in our wagon, near the front. She was bound hand and

foot and tied on her side, that she might not tear at her brand. A slave hood,

with gag, was placed on her, that her weeping and cried might not disturb our

rest.

Soon, to my interest, the guards had hitched up the bosk, and, by the light of

the three moons, we were moving slowly again over the fields.

Targo did not wish to remain too long in this place.

“Tomorrow,” I heard him say, “we reach Laura.”

8
     
What Occurred North of Laura

(pg. 78) We reached the banks of the Laurius shortly after dawn the following

morning.

It was foggy, and cold. I , and the other girls, with the exception of the new

girl, freshly branded, hooded and gagged, bound on her side, had crawled between

the layers of canvas on which we rode in the wagon. I, and some of the other

girls, lifted up the side canvas of the square-canvassed wagon and peeped out,

into the early morning fog.

We could smell fish and the river.

Through the fog we could see men moving about, here and there, some low wooden

huts. Several of the men must be fishermen, already returning with a first

catch, who had hunted the river’s surface with torches and tridents at night.

Others, with nets, were moving down toward the water. We could see poles of fish

hanging to the sides. There were some wagons, too, moving in the direction that

ours was. I saw some men, too, carrying burdens, sacks and roped bundles of

fagots. In the doorway of one of the small wooden huts I saw a slave girl, in a

brief brown tunic, regarding us. Where the tunic parted, at her throat, I caught

a glint of a steel collar.

Suddenly the but of a spear struck at the canvas where we were looking and we

quickly put down the side wall.

I looked about at the other girls, in the early light. They were awake now. They

seemed excited. Laura would be my first Gorean city. Would there be someone here

who would send me home? How frustrated I was, chained in the wagon. Even the

back flap of the wagon had been tied down. The (pg. 79) canvas was damp, and

stained from the dew and fog, and an early morning rain. I wanted to cry out and

scream my name, and cry for help. I clenched my fists and did not do so.

The wagon began to tilt forward then and I knew we were moving down the slope

toward the river bank. I could also tell that the wheels were slipping in the

mud, and I heard the creak of the heavy brake being thrown forward, backing the

shoe against the front left wheel rim. Then, bit by bit, releasing the brake and

applying it, the wagon, jolting, slipped and slid forward and downward. Then I

heard pebbles beneath the wheels and the wagon was level again.

We sat there for several minutes, and then, eventually, we heard Targo haggling

with a barge master for passage across the river.

The wagon then rolled forward onto a wooden pier. The bosk bellowed. The smell

of the river and the fish was strong. The air was cold and damp, and fresh.

“Slaves out,” we heard.

The back flap of the wagon was tied up and the back gate of the wagon swung

downward.

The grizzled, one-eyed guard unlocked the ankle bar, lifting it.

“Slaves out,” he said.

As we slid to the back of the wagon our ankle rings were removed. Then, naked,

unchained, we were herded to the river edge of the wooden pier. I was cold. I

saw a sudden movement in the water. Something, with a twist of its great spine,

had suddenly darted from the waters under the pier and entered the current of

the Laurius. I saw the flash of a triangular, black dorsal fin.

I screamed.

Lana looked out, pointing after it. “A river shark,” she cried, excitedly.