Captive of Gor (42 page)

Sometimes I saw the dark-haired girl, in red silk with the two golden bangles on

her left ankle, when I passed by the tent. Sometimes I saw other girls. Once or

twice I saw a stunningly figured blond girl in brief yellow silk. It seemed Rask

of Treve had his choice of beautiful women.

I hated him!

One afternoon, after I had been some three weeks in the camp. Rask and his

tarnsmen returned from a raid far to the north.

He had raided the slave compound of his old enemy, Haakon of Skjern.

Among the new slaves brought to the camp were Inge and the Lady Rena of Lydius!

Lana had not been captured. Inge and Rena were the only ones I knew among the

new girls.

The morning following their capture, as I had been, they, and the others, were

collared. They, like I, had spent their first night in the tent of the women.

Following their collaring, however, as I had been, they were sent to the shed.

When Rask had collared Inge he had shaken her blond head with his large hand. He

seemed fond of her. And she had dared to put her cheek against his hand. How

shameless she had become! Once of the scribes, she was now only a wanton,

shameless slave girl! I wanted to tear her hair and eyes out! How pleased I was,

and how startled she was, and the others, when Rask sent them to the shed, where

they would be issued work tunics and find themselves work slaves in the camp!

How Inge and Rena rejoiced when they found themselves forced to their knees

before Ute!

(pg. 294) But Ute did not even let them rise.

They looked at her with horror.

“I am Ute,” Ute told them. “I am first girl among the work slaves. You will obey

me. You will be treated precisely as the other girls, neither better nor worse.

If you do not obey me, exactly and promptly, in all things, you will be beaten.”

They looked at her, scarcely comprehending.

“Do you understand?” asked Ute.

“Yes,” said Inge.

“Yes,” said Rena.

“The slave, El-in-or,” said Ute, “stand forward.”

I had been hiding in the background. Ordered by Ute, I came forward.

I saw Inge and Rena exchange glances of pleasure. I was frightened.

“This is one of my girls,” said Ute, “as you are. You will not be cruel to her.”

“Ute!” protested Inge.

“Or I will have you beaten,” said Ute.

Inge looked at her, angrily.

“Do you understand?” said Ute.

“Yes,” said Inge.

“Yes,” said the Lady Rena of Lydius.

“El-in-or,” said Ute, “take these new slaves and get them work tunics, and then

return them to me, and I shall assign them their duties for the day.”

Inge and Rena, and the other new girls, followed me, and I took them to the

chest at the side of the shed, where I could find them their simple, brief

garments of brown rep-cloth, which raiment would constitute their sole work

garment in the camp of Rask of Treve.

From the chest I took forth several of the garments, small, clean and neatly

folded. I had washed several myself, and, sprinkling them with water, and

sweating, had pressed them on a smooth board, using the small, heavy, rounded

Gorean irons, heated over fire. I had folded them, too, and placed them in the

chest.

(pg. 295) I threw the garments to the girls, the new slaves. They were naked,

save for their collars.

“But I am a trained pleasure slave,” protested Inge. She held the small, folded

garment in her two hands.

“Put it on,” I told her.

“I was of high caste!” cried the Lady Rena of Lydius.

“Put it on,” I told her.

Then angrily Inge and Rena stood before me, clad in the brief, simple garments

of female work slaves.

“You make a pretty work slave,” I said to Inge.

She clenched her fists.

“You, too,” said I to the Lady Rena of Lydius.

She glared at me in helpless fury, her fists, like Inge’s, clenched.

I looked at the others. “Put them on!” I cried.

The other girls, too, donned their tunics, and then I led them all, the new

slaves, clad for work, back to Ute, who would instruct them in their duties for

the day.

* * *

Four days after Inge and Rena, and other new girls, had been brought to the

secret war camp of Rask of Treve, the tarnsman, and his fierce men, again

returned from the work of warriors.

Again there was excitement in the camp.

I leaped to my feet.

“Finish your work,” said Ute.

“Ute!” I cried.

“Finish your work,” she said.

Behind the kitchen shed, I was ironing. To one side there was a large pile of

laundered work tunics, which I had washed in the early morning. The smooth board

was set before me, mounted on two wooden blocks. A bowl of water was nearby, and

a fire, over which, on an iron plate fixed on stones, there were, heating, five,

small, flat-bottomed, rounded, wooden-handled Gorean irons. I had been kneeling

before the board, ironing the tunics, which I would then fold and place to one

side. Behind the kitchen shed, I had not been able to see the alighting of the

tarns. I could hear, however, (pg. 296) the delighted cries of the girls and the

loud, warm, answering shouts of the men.

I heard one of the girls cry out, “How beautiful she is!”

I supposed a new female had been brought to the camp.

Angrily I pressed one of the hot irons down on a work tunic, smoothing it.

I must remain behind the kitchen shed, working, while they were permitted to

greet the men! I wondered if Inge would be there, perhaps smiling and waving to

Rask of Treve.

How furious I was!

But I reminded myself that I hated him!

In time the excitement, the cries and shouts, diminished, and I knew the men had

dismounted, and any captive, perhaps bound, would have been sent to the tent of

the women. The girls, here and there, returned to their labors.

I continued to iron.

About a quarter of an Ahn later, kneeling behind the board, ironing, I became

aware of someone standing before me. I saw a pair of slim, tanned ankles. I

lifted my eyes and saw slender, strong, tanned legs. And then, to my horror, the

brief, tawny garment of a panther girl. And in the belt of the garment there was

thrust a sleen knife. She wore barbaric ornaments of gold. I lifted my eyes to

this tall, strong, beautifully figured female.

I put down my head, crying out in misery.

“She seems to know you,” said Rask of Treve.

I shook my head negatively.

“Lift your head, Slave,” said Verna.

I did so.

“Who is she?” asked Verna.

Rask shrugged. “One of my slaves,” he said.

Verna smiled down at me. “You know me, do you not, Girl?” she asked.

I shook my head.

Verna wore no collar. In her belt she carried a sleen knife. Rask of Treve, my

master, stood near her. She was free, obviously free. She was not even a

captive, let alone (pg. 297) a slave. By the attitude of my master, I could see

that she was, somehow, for no reason I could understand, a guest in this camp.

“We met,” said Verna, “first outside the compound of Targo the Slaver, north of

Laura. Then, in the streets of Ko-ro-ba, you incited the slave girls to attack

me. Later, south of Ko-ro-ba, when I was caged, among the prizes in the hunting

retinue of Marlenus of Ar, you, with another girl, whose name was Lana, much

abused me.”

I put my head down.

“Lift your head, Girl,” said she.

Again I did so.

“You know me, do you not, Girl?” asked Verna again.

I shook my head, no, no!

“Your Slave is a liar,” said Verna.

“Shall I have her beaten for you?” asked Rask of Treve.

“No,” said Verna. She looked down at me. “She is only a slave,” she said.

I put down my head.

“You are not to lie again in this camp,” said Rask of Treve.

“No, Master,’ I whispered.

“My patience grows short with you, El-in-or,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I whispered.

“I know little of such work,” said Verna, “but are you not in danger of

scorching the garment which you are ironing?”

I hastily drew away the iron, placing it on the fire-heated plate.

Fortunately the garment was not marked, else Ute, discovering it, might have

punished me.

“Permit me, Verna,” said Rask of Treve, “to show you the rest of the camp.”

Verna looked down upon me. “Continue with your work, Slave,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said.

Then, together, Verna and Rask of Treve left me. Weeping, I continued to iron.

(pg. 298) That night I sneaked away, following my feeding, and before the time

to be sent to the kitchen shed, to the tent of women.

“Ena!” I whispered, through the canvas of the tent.

Ena came from the tent and I, only a work girl, knelt before her, putting my

forehead to the ground. “May a slave speak?” I begged.

Ena knelt down before me and lifted me, and held my arms. “Of course, El-in-or,”

she said. “What is it?”

I looked at her, gratefully.

“There is a new woman, a free woman in the camp,” I said.

“That is Verna,” said Ena, “a panther girl from the northern forests.”

“How is it that she is here?’ I begged.

Ena smiled. “Come with me,” she said. She led me through the camp, until we came

to a small, low tent. Before it, about a fire, there sat two brawny, magnificent

huntsmen.

“They are from the hunting retinue of Marlenus of Ar,” I whispered. I recognized

them, both from the streets of Ko-ro-ba and from the merchants’ stockade, on the

trade route to Ar, where I and Lana had so abused Verna, she then being

helplessly caged.

I noted that these two men were served, each by a slave girl. Inge and Rena were

fetching in their work tunics. I could see that they were excited by their

proximity to such men.

They were shameless!

“Those men,” said Ena, “are Raf and Pron, huntsmen of Treve, though they range

widely in their huntings, even to the northern forests. By order of Rask of

Treve they, by their skill in weapons and their mastery of the techniques and

lore of the hunt, and pretending to be of Minus, a village under the hegemony of

Ar, made petition and successfully so, to participate in the retinue of the

great Ubar.” She smiled at me. “Treve,” she said, “has spies in many places.”

“They freed Verna,” I said.

(pg. 299) “Freeing her, they escaped to a preappointed rendezvous, where Rask of

Treve, with his men, met them, and brought them, and Verna, here.”

“But why would they wish to free her?” I asked.

“Verna is well know on Gor, as an outlaw woman,” said Ena. “When it became known

that Marlenus, in his hunting, for his sport, would seek her, Rask of Treve gave

order for Raf and Pron to attempt to join his retinue.”

“But why?” I asked.

“That,” said Ena, “Marlenus, if successful, might be deprived of his prize?”

“But why?” I pressed.

“There would be glory in the capture of such a woman,” said Ena, “and, surely,

ignominy in her escaping.”

“You mean she has been freed only that Marlenus of Ar might be deprived of his

prize?”

“Of course,” said Ena. “Treve and Ar are enemies.” Her eyes shone, and I had

little doubt where her sympathies lay. “Is it not a superb insult to Marlenus

and Ar!” she breathed.

“Yes,” I said, “it is.”

“Too,” said Ena, thrilled, “is it not audacious that my master, Rask of Treve,

places his war camp, from which he may despoil the fields and caravans of Ar,

within the realm of might Ar itself!”

“Yes,” I whispered. I then sensed something of the points of honor and of the

nature of insults which scornful men, might warriors, might exchange. I

shuddered, momentarily thrilled with the boldness of my master, Rask of Treve.

Then I remembered that he had contempt for women, and that I hated him!

“What of the other girls, those of Verna’s band?” I asked. I particularly feared

that the blond girl, she who had held my leash, might be freed. I had much

abused her, throwing dirt on her and poking her with a stick in her cage. I was

terrified of her. If she was free I did not know what she might do to me.

“The others remain caged prizes in the retinue of Marlenus,” said Ena.

“Oh,” I said. I was much relieved.

(pg. 300) I observed Inge filling the paga goblet of one of the huntsmen. She

knelt closer to him than she needed to. Her lips were parted. Her eyes shone.

Her hands, slightly, shook on the paga bottle. Rena knelt to one side. She

watched her huntsman, gnawing the meat from a great bone. I could see that she

was eager to leap up to serve him, should he but speak to her.

What shameless, wanton slave girls they were!

“Rask of Treve hates Marlenus of Ar,” said Ena.

I nodded.

“Have you see the dark-haired girl who sometimes tends his tent?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. I had indeed seen her. She was an incredibly beautiful slave

female. She was even more beautiful than Ena, who was one of the most beautiful

female slaves I had ever seen. Her hair was glossy and black, and her master had

had her cut it at the small of her back. her features, and body, were

breath-takingly beautiful. She had an exciting mouth and lips. She was a

stunningly figured, green-eyed, olive-skinned slave girl. She would bring a high

price on the market. Always she wore only the brief garment of scarlet,