Authors: John Norman
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Move!” said the river man.
The whip cracked.
Cornhair, and the others, twenty-one others, feet on the wet, graveled path, cried out in misery, and thrust their slight weight against their hempen harnessing, the towing lines stretching back to cleats on the keel boat, some five of six yard from shore. On the boat itself, on each side, men leaned on poles; these poles, thrusting against the river bottom, serve to propel the craft; they also serve to thrust away debris, to push the craft from sand bars, and to keep the banks of the river at bay. The sweep of such a pole, too, may discourage boarders; they can crush skulls and break ribs; and, jabbing, tear their way into an abdomen. The boat had a single mast, with a single yard, but its square-rigged sail, a fifteen-foot square of woven reeds, hung slack. The keel boat, as opposed to the flatboat, is designed to be used more than once, designed to sustain a passage both upstream and downstream. They are then, as one would expect, more sturdily crafted and better kept, than the flatboat, which is put together to make a single trip. The keel boats, also, are likely to be more ornamented and, as they are commonly painted, more colorful than flatboats. The paint, also, serves to protect the timbers of the keel boat, an important consideration as one hopes to utilize them for several years. Some keel boats even boast a deck cabin. Cargo, on both keel boats and flatboats, is stored on the single, open deck, and is commonly, boxes and barrels, lashed in place to prevent its dislodgement or loss should the craft spin or tip in rapids. A loose barrel, rolling and tumbling, descending a forty-five degree slope, can crash gunwales and break arms and legs. In addition to the roping and strapping of cargo in place, it is also commonly covered with canvas. This protects it from the weather, and also conceals it, should curious eyes, from trees on the bank, or in passing boats, notice it, and find it of interest, with perhaps unwelcome consequences. Too, keel boats, as flatboats, will usually have a rigged arrangement of canvas and stanchions to protect the crew from rain and hail, and the sun, which, in its heat, combined with the glare on the water, can produce a number of undesirable effects, ranging from disorientation and heat stroke to discomfort and the impairment of vision.
The whip cracked, again, and, again, the twenty-two slaves, those who had served at the suppers in the villa of Lady Delia Cotina, including Cornhair, leaned into the traces. Each had fixed, on her right shoulder, under the hempen harness, a cushioning cloth, to prevent the rope from burning into their bodies. Rope burns, scars, and such, can reduce a girl's likely block price. These slaves were not draft slaves, but slaves of the sort which had been so resented and loathed by the free women of the party of Lady Delia, slaves of the sort which free men are likely to buy, presumably having in mind the incredible pleasures derivable from such purchases.
The whip, though its report was startling, and menacing enough, had not struck the slaves. It would not do so unless one of the slaves proved a laggard, or cheater, shirking her share in the common effort, letting it be borne by her collar sisters. The occasional, unexpected snap, it seems, in itself provided the slaves with sufficient motivation. This was doubtless because, presumably, there was not one slave in the harnessing, struggling along the path beside the river, who had not, at one time or another, felt the stroke of such a device.
Cornhair, as the others, struggled forward, thrusting against the harnessing, moving west, upstream, toward Telnar.
She was pleased, that she was to be sold in Telnar. Was that not the dream of many slaves in the galaxy?
Interestingly, Cornhair did not much mind the rope harness, the dirt, the heat, and sweating, the strain of the labor, not that she liked it, you understand, but, rather, that she did not mind it as a free woman might have minded it. She did not find it outrageous, unconscionable, inappropriate, humiliating, or such. She found it quite natural that she, and the others, would be put to such work. They were not free women, but slaves. Was it not natural that the free woman should stand and the slave kneel? Was it not natural that the free woman should command and the slave obey? Was it not natural that the slave, on her hands and knees, naked, should scrub the tiles while the free woman supervises her work, switch in hand? Was it not natural that the free woman, inert, haughty, and calculating, finding herself observed by a free man, might ponder what profit might be derived from his attention, whereas the slave, finding herself observed by a free man, might tremble, and kneel, hoping not to be beaten, but rather to be caressed, and as a slave is caressed? Certainly, Cornhair now had a very different relationship to men than any she had had as a free woman. This was natural. The slave sees men very differently from the way a free woman sees them. The slave sees them as Masters. She knows that this one, or that one, might buy her. She is likely to belong to one. Too, the slave, given her cultural realities, is very much alive, and rich with feeling; her garb, if she is permitted garb, is special, and symbolically significant, as well as unencumbering, aesthetic, and sexually simulating. It is slave garb, designating her as a slave. Too, she has doubtless been marked. Similarly, who could mistake the collar on her fair neck? The slave is a profoundly biological organism, a natural, sexual creature. It is natural then that she, a lovely, purchasable animal, is seen in terms of the pleasure she might provide, and that she sees the free man as a Master she must please, and one who may do with her as he wishes. It is little wonder then that she fears his whip, and hopes, in her service, that he, her Master, may consent, if only for his own amusement or pleasure, to subject her to those unspeakable ecstasies which may be inflicted on a slave, ecstasies for which she lives, ecstasies a thousand times beyond what a free woman can know. Is this not one of the secrets between Masters and slaves, which free women can only suspect? And what of other joys, such as those of kneeling, of serving, of yielding, and of pleasing? There are men and women, and, in a natural order, Masters and slaves.
She had not done well in Telnar before, on the selling shelf, or on the block, but she now looked forward to her sale, to belonging, hopefully, to a private Master, whom she must then strive to please. Even as a free woman, long ago, when she had despised slaves, she had had recurrent, uneasy fears that her own throat might be suitably encircled with the bondage ring. How such thoughts had distressed, and fascinated, her. How she had forced such thoughts away, and then waited, hopefully, for their return. In her confidence and pride, in her days of station and wealth, it had never occurred to her that the collar might one day be locked on her own neck, and that she would find herself on her knees before free persons. Then, after the social debacle of her waywardness and debts, her de-facto abandonment by her family, her trying to scratch out a pitiful existence on the pittance of an allowance, limited to only one slave, the girl, Nika, she had been recruited by Iaachus, the Arbiter of Protocol, in the court of the emperor, Aesilesius, to assassinate a barbarian mercenary, Ottonius, a captain in the auxiliary forces, this having largely to do with frustrating the plans of Julian, of the Aureliani, regarded by Iaachus as a threat to the throne and empire. As we recall, she was to be so situated, in the guise of a female slave, that she might, by means of a poisoned dagger, complete this task, following which she was to be richly rewarded. As we recall, prior to her thwarted attack, she had actually been enslaved, but without her awareness. After her failure to kill the barbarian captain, Ottonius, and having been abandoned by her supposed confederates, she found herself in the hands of Otungs. Instead of having her tortured and executed, she had been branded and sold to Heruls. She sold for one pig. Eventually, purchased from Heruls by a dealer, she had been sold in Venitzia, the provincial capital on Tangara, to the company, Bondage Flowers, which had an office in Venitzia, after which she had been shipped with other slaves, first to Inez IV, and thence to Telnaria, eventfully finding herself in Telnar. We remind ourselves of these perhaps familiar matters, because they, in their way, remind us of moments in a slave's journey. Too, she had certainly begun to learn herself on a dock at Inez IV, in the hold of a freighter, on a shelf in Telnar, on a block in Telnar, in a dining hall in a remote villa, where she had served at a woman's supper, in an arena at that villa, and then, later, being conveyed downstream in one of four covered barges, to some village port whose name she did not even know, in the delta of the Turning Serpent.
If only there had been a wind from the east, she thought, swelling the wide, matted sail!
“Ah!” had said the man at the village port. “Excellent!”
“There are two sets,” had said Ortog, “a larger set of one hundred and fifty-two, and a smaller set of twenty-two. The larger set, with the exception of two whom I will keep for my own pleasure, we will ship to far worlds, Omar II, Vellmer, Tangara, Inez IV, Varna, and a dozen others.”
“Some of those are rude worlds,” said the man.
“There are towns, and trading stations,” said Ortog.
“I suppose so,” said the man. “But you are unlikely to do much shipping for a time.”
“Why?” asked Ortog. “I have four Lion Ships, fueled, waiting in their sheds.”
“The blockade,” said the man. “It was not anticipated. Lightning from a clear, blue sky. The barbarian commander is in place.”
“The war is not to be fought so,” said Ortog. “Much must transpire first.”
“Troops, ships, are at far-flung borders,” said the man. “They man walls, but the wall has been over leapt.”
“A bold stroke,” said Ortog.
“A perilous stroke,” said the man. “Even now border cruisers must be hurrying to Telnaria. The siege will be broken and lifted. The barbarian commander has erred grievously. He will be caught and destroyed.”
“How long does he have?” asked Ortog.
“It is estimated only a few days,” said the man.
“If what you call the wall is deserted,” said Ortog, “barbarians will flow in.”
“The barbarian commander must be mad,” said the man. “What can he do? The great explosives, which could split worlds and thrust planets from their orbits, have been expended.”
“Some may yet exist,” said Ortog.
“But surely not in the hands of barbarians,” said the man.
“I suppose not,” said Ortog.
“You should be able to leave in a few days,” said the man. “Slave gruel is cheap.”
“Who is the barbarian commander?” asked Ortog.
“A man named Abrogastes,” said the man. “Have you heard of him?”
“Yes,” said Ortog. “I have heard of him.”
“He must be mad, to isolate himself so, to place himself in such jeopardy.”
“Perhaps,” said Ortog, “this Abrogastes is not mad. Perhaps he hopes to conclude the wars with a single blow. Why should one scratch at the skin of the empire when one might strike at its heart?”
“Telnaria's defenses are not weak,” said the man. “If the blockading cruisers should come within firing range, the planetary batteries will burn them from the sky. Telnaria's only fear then will be the rain of molten debris.”
“Surely this commander, Abrogastes, must be aware of that,” said Ortog.
“The blockade is annoying, but pointless,” said the man. “You cannot starve a planet into submission. So, my friend, what if a few aristocrats must do without their favored wines, or imported eels, for a few days?”
“I do not think this Abrogastes is a fool,” said Ortog.
“You know him?” asked the man.
“I have heard of him,” said Ortog.
The village fellow then cast his glance on the one hundred and fifty-two slaves standing on the river wharf, chained together by the neck, naked, as is common with women in coffle.
“A nice lot,” he said. “Where did you get them?”
“I picked them up, a bit to the west,” said Ortog.
“You raided a slave caravan,” said the man, “and stole their goods.”
“Something like that,” said Ortog.
“We are tolerant of thieves here,” said the man. “What of this smaller lot?”
This smaller lot consisted of Cornhair, and the twenty-one other slaves who had served at the suppers of the free women in the remote villa.
“Why are they clothed?” asked the man.
Cornhair's group was chained together by the ankle, the left ankle.
“That the larger set may the more acutely be aware that they are not clothed.”
“I have not noted one of them speaking,” said the man.
“They dare not,” said Ortog. “They are under discipline.”
“The other group, the smaller group, sits together, pleasantly, looking about, chatting,” said the man.
“Let the larger group notice that,” said Ortog.
“The smaller group sits, the larger group stands,” said the man.
“Discipline,” said Ortog.
“Excellent,” said the man.
“The larger group,” said the man, “seemed reluctant to go to all fours, and eat their slave gruel from pans, not using their hands.”
“We did not, by design, command it,” said Ortog.
“I see,” said the man.
“When they are sufficiently hungry,” said Ortog, “they will not merely do so, but beg to be permitted to do so.”
“Excellent,” said the man. “What disposition have you in mind for the smaller lot?”
“They are lovely sluts, are they not?” asked Ortog.
“Very much so,” said the man.
Cornhair rejoiced to hear this assessment. As a free woman she had been beautiful and, now, she hoped to be even more beautiful, beautiful as a slave is beautiful.
“I shall rent a boat,” said Ortog, “one capable of plying the river west.”
“A keel boat,” said the man.
“And then I hope to sell them in Telnar,” said Ortog.