Renegades of Gor (62 page)

another of the oarsmen. They would (pg.413) this be eagerly, joyously welcoming,

almost beside themselves, not only returning heroes but their masters.

The slave girl within the city, incidentally, commonly receives a great deal of

freedom. She normally can do much what she wants, and go much where she wishes.

Her mobility and freedom in such respects is often much greater than that

accorded to free women. This freedom and mobility does not matter greatly, of

course, for she is branded and collared. To be sure, she is seldom allowed

outside the walls of a city unless she is in the company of a free person.

Similarly, if an appropriate free person is available, she must request

permission to leave the house. At this time, she will probably also have the Ahn

of her return specified for her. Similarly, if an appropriate free person is

available, she must report in to that person, when she returns. It is better for

her, incidentally, to report in before or at the time that has been specified

for her. It is sometimes amusing to see these girls hurrying to get home in

time. Many houses are strict about such matters. Being late can be a matter for

discipline.

“That is the pharos,” a mother told her child, holding him up to look.

The refugees, save for some of the men, were glad enough, I think, to see the

pharos, to know that the harbor of Port Cos was near. The harbor meant haven and

refuse for them. The nightmare of the siege was over.

There was pleasure in the eyes of the free women. I had seen that even the

briefly tunicked slave girls on deck, kneeling together amidships, properties of

various masters on board, were eager, happy and excited. Among them, with no

special sign of her status, as being the preferred slave of Aemilianus himself,

was Shirley, only one slave among others.

The two beams, by fellows of Port Cos, were put in the mounts, the chains and

harnesses pulled back inside, within the rail. They jutted out, on either side

of the sloping, concave bow.

I saw those small ships which had been in our advance now slowing their

progress. In a bit, they would be abeam, and later astern. Our ship, that of

Calliodorus, the Tais, it seemed, would be the first ship into the harbor.

I met the eyes of the young crossbowman and his friend. We smiled at one

another, then looked apart. His name was (pg.414) Fabius. The name of his friend

was Quintus. They were eager, it seemed, to see Port Cos. How marvelous, how

remarkable, how astonishing is the resilience of youth! To look at them, and see

their anticipation and eagerness, one would not have thought that they had

endured trials that would have harrowed many a brave fellow, that they had stood

on the wall, that they had served on the landing and near the piers. I had given

each of them a handful of coins that they might buy themselves a girl in Port

Cos, coins from those taken from the looter, met in the corridor of the citadel,

leading out to the landing.

The advance ships were now astern.

“Stroke!” called the oar master.

The oars entered the water in unison, drew and rose, shining, dripping, from the

river.

I looked again at the tall, cylindrical pharos. At night, its beacon aflame, the

light multiplied and reflected in the mirrors, it could presumably be seen for

pasangs up and down the river.

We were now, I conjectured, some three or four pasangs from the harbor.

“Stroke!” called the oar master.

Calliodorus was near me. So, too, was Aemilianus, supported by Surilius.

The ship was bedecked with flags and streamers. Conspicuous at the port stem

line snapped a flag of Ar’s Station. On

The starboard stem line flew that of Port Cos. Aemilianus could not have asked

for more honor. He was being conducted into Port Cos not as a piteous refugee

but as a welcome and respected ally.

I went back over various things in my mind, the Crooked Tarn, the camp of the

Cosians, the trenches, the approach to the wall, my captivity, my escape, the

fighting at Ar’s Station, the escape from the piers. How complex and desperate

had become the world. I felt so small, like a particle adrift on a vast sea,

beneath a vat sky, a particle taken here and there, at the mercy of the tides,

the currents, the winds, not understanding. But there were compasses and

landmarks, as palpable to me as the stars by which I might navigate on Thassa,

as solid and undoubted as the great brick structure of he pharos (pg.415) of

port Cos itself. There were the codes, and honor, and steel.

Two slaves were brought forward, to stand on the bow deck. I looked at one,

whose name was Claudia. Then she lowered her eyes, timidly. I watched metal

bonds placed on their wrists and ankles, these bonds attached to the chains

running to the jutting beams. I watched their bodies fitted into the

chain-and-leather harnesses, these harnesses also attached to the chains. The

harnesses were then buckled shit and secured with small padlocks put through

rings. They were then put prone on the bow deck, one on each side, their

manacled wrists extended before them, over their head. The head of Claudia was

turned to the left, her head between her arms; the head of Publia was turned to

the right, her head between her arms.

I heard a drummer testing his instrument. I heard, too, some pipes.

Treason, of horrid and grand dimension, was abroad on Gor. I was confident, too,

from long ago, it seemed now, from captured papers, taken in Brundisium, that I

knew at least one of the participants in these treacheries, one who was perhaps

an arch conspirator, one who was perhaps even the prime architect of these

devious and insidious designs. And I, like a fool, who had had her once in my

grasp, in Port Kar, had had her freed, even when she had mocked an scorned me,

thinking me crippled, and had had her returned in honor and safety to Ar! I

considered her. How insolent she had been. How high she had flown. I wondered

what should be her fate.

We were now nearing the harbor.

I considered the face of the young warrior, Marcus, near me. How set it seemed,

how grim.

“My place, now,” said Calliodorus, “is on the stern castle.” With a bow he

withdrew.

A curule chair was brought for Aemilianus and set on the bow deck. Some of his

high officers were gathered about him.

Various thoughts passed through my mind. I recalled lovely Phoebe, of Telnus, so

slim, with her very dark hair, her very white skin. How lonely and unhappy she

had been as a free woman! How right she looked, clad in the garments of a

(pg.416) slave. Yet I had not enslaved her, but had kept her, to her

frustration, merely as a full servant. On the morning I had gone to the trenches

I had first taken her, clad only in a slave strip, to the wagon of my friend,

Ephialtes, the sutler, met at the Crooked Tarn. I recalled the well-curved,

auburn-haired Temione, of Cos, who had worked inside, in the paga room. Then

there were the women I had met outside, chained beneath the eaves of the left

wing, Amina, the Vennan, Elene, from Tyros, and Klio, Rimice, and Liomache,

these latter three, like Temione, from Cos. The somewhat venal master of the

Crooked Tarn had had the heads of all these shaved, to sell their hair for

catapult cordage. I also recalled the slave, Liadne, whom I had used beneath her

master’s wagon, in the storm. It had amused me to have her put, once purchased

for me by Ephialtes, over the free women on the chain, as first girl.

I had given Ephialtes my permission, of course, to do much with the women as he

wished, for example, renting them, trading them, selling them, reducing them to

bondage, and so on, as the conditions of the market might seem to make most

judicious. I did not know, of course, if I would ever see him again. I had

myself sold Elene and Klio in the trenches, in making my way toward the foot of

the wall, at Ar’s Station.

I had also, I recalled, met a fellow in the trenches who had been defrauded by a

Liomache. I did not know if it were the same Liomache as he one on my chain, of

course. I rather hoped for her sake that it was not. After the fall of Ar’s

Station the Cosian troops and their allies, mercenary and otherwise, would have

much more freedom. Too, there might not be so many women available for the men,

given the large numbers shipped west toward Brundisium, and other destinations,

some destined doubtless even for the markets of Cos and Tyros themselves. Poor

Liomache, held there on her chain, helpless, would be exposed to the scrutiny of

anyone who passed by, and under the conditions, it was almost certain that

several would pass by. If the fellow from the trench caught sight of her I

pitied her. Her captivity, that of a free person would be almost certain to be

promptly replaced (pg.417) with bondage, and a master into which clutches she

might have most feared to fall.

I recalled, too, the bearded fellow from the Crooked Tarn who had so humiliated

and scorned poor Temione, refusing even to be served by her. He did seem to be a

rude chap. Too, I did not think he would have been too pleased with me, either,

with how I had tricked him, and made away with his dispatches and his tarn. I

had last seen him chained naked to a ring in the courtyard of the Crooked Tarn,

unable, thanks to me, it seems, to pay his somewhat extravagant bills. I

wondered if he had managed to secure redemption from some passing Cosian,

perhaps a comrade in arms who might have recognized him. This seemed to me not

unlikely. The Crooked Tarn was a likely stopping place for couriers, and such.

It did not seem to me likely that I would meet that fellow again. That seemed to

me just as well.

I saw some small boats, wreathed with garlands, coming out to meet the flotilla.

They swarmed about. In them, men, and slave girls, clinging to the masts,

kneeling in the stern sheets, waved. They would escort us into the harbor.

“Gentlemen,” said Aemilianus, from his curule chair, ‘as we are nearing Port

Cos, it behooves me to speak plainly to you. Not all that I say will be welcome

to your ears. Yet much of it you will have suspected.

“Speak, Commander,” said a man.

I did not withdraw from the bow deck, as no one seemed to pay me much attention.

Had they not wanted me there, or thought that I should not hear, surely I would

have been advised of this. Too, I gathered that what was to be said, if secret

now, would soon be common knowledge. Too, there were two or three fellows of

Port Cos there, those who had set up the outjutting display beams, and would

presumably handle the forward lines in wharfing. Too, of course, prone on the

deck, in their shackles, their shackles and chain-and-leather harnesses attached

to the beam chains, were the two slaves. No matters of prolonged moment would be

likely to be discussed in the presence of such. Normally slave girls, with a

snap of the fingers or a wave of the hand, are dismissed from an area when

sensitive information is to be discussed. They then scurry away, until summoned

back. Also, interestingly, they will usually take pains on their own (pg.418)

behalf to avoid such areas. Total ignorance, they know, as they are mere slaves,

is often in their best interests. If they hear too much they know that it is

only too easy to dispose of them.

“What I tell you now,” said Aemilianus, “is already common knowledge in Port

Cos.”

“But these things were brought by the dispatch boat this morning?” said a man.

“Yes,” said he, “and with the routines of the couriers of Port Cos, that we

might learn them before we disembarked. But there is little here that I have not

suspected, and that our friend, Calliodorus, recently, has not intimated to me,

privately.

I recalled that Calliodorus, even on the first morning out from Ar’s Station,

after we had attended to the females, those who were now both slaves, and lay

near us in their chains, had seemed ready, then not ready, to speak to

Aemilianus of certain weighty matters, that he might have been considering

conveying to him warnings, or perhaps confiding suspicions or misgivings. He had

hesitated then, I suspected, because he was not yet sure of such matters, or,

perhaps, because he had thought it wise to hold them in abeyance until his

friend was stronger.

“Stand,” said the keeper of the two slaves, one of the fellows of Port Cos, on

the bow deck, to the two slaves. They stood up. He checked the chain and leather

of their harnesses. He lifted their shackled wrists over their head, lifting

with them part of the chair to which they were attached. Then he let them stand

there, with their shackled wrists lowered, before them. He did adjust their

posture, rudely, with a slap or two. Then they stood there, softly, beautifully

erect, on the bow deck.

“Hail Port Cos!” cried a fellow in a small boat, off the bow to starboard.

Behind him there stood a long-legged half-naked slave girl in a bit of a rag.

“Hail Port Cos!” she cried, happily, waving. “Hail Port Cos!” She was rather

nice. The collar looked well on her neck. I thought that she, too, might have