Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Forty-Third: IN THE VICINITY OF THE SLAUGHTER BENCH

As Cabot climbed the ladder the shrieks of the Lady Bina came to him. “No!” she cried. “You do not understand! I am not to die! The others, not I! I am favored of Lord Agamemnon! I am high in the world! I am Ubara, Ubara!"

These noises, of course, would be unintelligible to any Kur who lacked an activated translator. He, or what, to whom they were addressed, was probably familiar with the squeals of food animals.

Cabot thrust up the trap door which led to the higher level at the height of the ladder. It was heavy, and perhaps few humans could have raised it, but Cabot, who was strong for a human, with a great effort, threw it back.

It stuck back on the flooring of the higher level.

The Kur there turned to face him.

Cabot, as he had secured the bow on his shoulder, to enable his ascent, and as he was placed on the ladder, could not bring it into play. Only his head and shoulders, as he stood, were emerged through the flat entrance to the upper level.

He saw the Lady Bina, dangling upside down, her ankles roped together, the rope slung over a hook on a pulley. Her bell hung downward, and rang. The tiara was still fastened in her hair. Her hands were free and tried to fend away the mighty, hairy arms of the butcher. He put a hand in her hair, and pulled her toward him. Her small hands futilely, weakly, unavailingly, grasped the wrist of the hand fastened in her hair. Her lovely body squirmed. The bell hung on her neck clanged. The tiara fell to the wood at the butcher's feet.

She saw Cabot. “Save me!” she screamed. “Save me!"

The butcher's right paw held a long tool, pointed and rounded, and some eighteen inches in length, which would be driven cleanly, expertly, into the heart of the suspended food animal, which would then be drawn away on the contrivance of ropes and hooks.

Cabot climbed carefully to the surface of the upper level, and crouched down. He was but feet from the butcher, who, tool in hand, the Lady Bina in his grasp, regarded him, curiously.

Cabot would not have time to activate the bow, to loose it from his shoulder, arrow it, and draw it.

His hand stole to his belt knife.

To Cabot's left he could see a number of suspended bodies, alive, dangling and squirming, some squealing, awaiting their turn, those who had followed the Lady Bina and her bell.

To Cabot's right, as he could see, there were several dangling bodies, moving and turning, with the stresses of the rope. These were the residues from earlier butcherings. And, to the side, to the right, below, he could see a number of bodies, freed from the hooks and ropes, piled like fish.

Too, oddly, he saw two Kur bodies, fallen amongst the slaughtered cattle.

"Save me! Save me!” screamed the Lady Bina.

This was picked up on Cabot's translator.

"Do not kill her!” said Cabot.

"I am the bell girl! I am the bell beast!” screamed the Lady Bina. “I am not to die!"

"We do not need you any longer,” said the butcher. “You have led the last of the cattle to the slaughter bench. Now it is your turn. That is why we locked the gate."

"I am favored of Lord Agamemnon!” she cried.

"You are cattle,” said the butcher.

"No, no!” she screamed.

"Do not reach for your knife,” said the butcher to Cabot. “I can reach you before you can free it of the sheath. Take your hand away from it. Live a moment longer. I will have time for you when I finish here."

Cabot looked about, wildly.

"Place your hands, clasped, behind the back of your head,” said the butcher, “or I strike now, this moment."

Cabot obeyed, in misery.

"You may watch,” said the butcher.

"She is favored of Lord Agamemnon,” cried Cabot, desperately, “Eleventh face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World."

"No,” said the butcher. “It was he who ordered the gate locked."

Lady Bina, in pain, dangling, cried out in misery, a long wailing sound.

The butcher's arms were reddened to the elbows, the hair soaked with blood. He wore a leather apron. And a leather scarf was bound over his head and ears. That is perhaps why he had heard no sound earlier.

The butcher's mighty paw clasped the pointed tool more firmly, and he drew back his right arm, and with his left hand he drew the shrieking Lady Bina more closely to him.

"Wait!” cried Cabot, pointing down, and to his right. “Why are Kurii dead below?"

The butcher regarded him, puzzled.

"None are dead,” he said.

"Two are dead,” said Cabot.

"No,” said the butcher.

"Look,” said Cabot.

"Step back,” said the butcher.

Cabot stepped back, behind the trap. He could see Lita's dark hair below, she clinging to the ladder, her shoulders. She looked up at him, but he gave no sign he saw her.

The butcher went to the ledge, where he might look down.

He did not hear the scratching, which was subtle, and came from his left.

The butcher called down to the inert bodies below.

He did not see the one paw, with its claws, which appeared over the edge of the platform, somewhat behind him, and to his left.

"They are dead,” Cabot assured him, drawing his attention to his right.

"I do not understand,” said the butcher.

"Perhaps you are next,” said Cabot.

"I do not understand,” said the butcher.

"That is perhaps why you are next,” said Cabot.

"I will kill her, and then you,” said the translator. In Kur this was clearly a snarl, but it was rendered, as would be expected, with calmness and precision by the translator.

The butcher turned to the dangling Lady Bina but there now stood a formidable impediment between him and his objective.

With a roar of rage, a bleeding Lord Grendel flung himself on the butcher, and with a single bite tore away the butcher's right paw, it still grasped on the tool, and Lord Grendel lifted the butcher over his head, and flung him to the lower level, where he fell among the slaughtered cattle, howling in pain, blood spurting from his right wrist.

The butcher then rose up, slipping on the bodies, fell, and rose up, again, moving away.

Cabot, by now, had freed his bow and handed it, with an arrow, to Lord Grendel.

"It will be a difficult shot,” said Cabot.

The shaft took the stumbling, hastening fugitive in the back of the head.

"You have been practicing,” said Cabot.

"Free me, free me, you fools!” screamed the Lady Bina.

"You are bleeding,” said Cabot to his friend.

"Two, below, fought well,” said Lord Grendel.

"Free me!” demanded the Lady Bina.

Lita rose up, half way, through the trap.

The Lady Bina, squirming, dangling upside down, discerned Lita. “That is a slave!” she cried. The Lady Bina's bell, as she struggled, rang. It was chained about her neck. “Go away!” cried the Lady Bina. “Do not let me be seen as I am, by a filthy, stinking slave!"

"Are you concerned?” asked Cabot.

"Free me!” she cried.

"Perhaps you feel your dignity is compromised,” said Cabot, “as you are, naked, upside down, a bell on your neck. Certainly few free women are likely to be found so, except doubtless in the houses of slavers, awaiting their branding and collaring."

"Free me!” she screamed.

Lita clambered to the level.

"Send that stinking, ugly slave away!” cried the Lady Bina.

"She is not ugly,” said Cabot. “Stripped, she would stand high on the price list of many slavers."

"As might you,” he added.

"Insolence!” she cried.

"I must free her,” said Lord Grendel.

"If I were you,” said Cabot, “I would keep her naked, on a rope, and keep the bell on her neck."

"No, no,” mumbled Grendel. “That is unthinkable. She is a free woman."

"You risked your life to save her,” said Cabot. “Do you think she is grateful?"

He lifted her down, and bent to free her ankles.

"Do not look at me, beast,” she said.

"Forgive me, Lady,” he said.

"Fetch me my tiara!” she said.

Lord Grendel picked up the small object, and handed it to her. She thrust it down, in place.

"I am a Ubara,” she informed him.

"I did not know that,” said Lord Grendel.

"So proclaimed by Lord Agamemnon himself,” she said.

"I did not know that,” said Lord Grendel.

"You are bleeding,” said Cabot.

"It is nothing,” he said.

"Let Lita tend your wounds."

"The blood of a Kur clots quickly,” said Grendel.

"And of at least one human,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps,” said Grendel.

"Get this terrible bell, and chain, off my neck!” demanded the Lady Bina, sitting on the platform, rubbing her rope-burned ankles.

"I cannot, without a tool,” said Lord Grendel.

"Then fetch a tool,” said the Lady Bina.

"First,” said Cabot, “we must free the living cattle, those on the hooks, and drive those in the shoot, and in the pens, into the open, where they might have a chance to live."

"They are only cattle,” said the Lady Bina.

"I will command the nondominants,” said Lord Grendel. “Only they are left here. They will obey me."

"Why will they do that?” asked Cabot.

"Because,” said he, “I am a dominant."

"I understand,” said Cabot.

"Come back!” said the Lady Bina. But Grendel was gone. She glared at Cabot. “What are you looking at?” she demanded.

"I was wondering what you would bring,” said Cabot, “—on a slave block."

"Insolent beast!” she screamed.

"It is an idle thought,” he said, “but one common amongst males, when they look upon a comely female. It is quite common for them to think of them stripped, in a slave collar, roped tightly, helplessly, on the floor, at the foot of their bed, and such."

"I want Lord Grendel to return,” she said.

She jerked at the bell on her neck, and it made a small sound.

"Slaves are sometimes belled,” said Cabot, “sometimes for custodial purposes, for they may be locked on a slave, sometimes to enhance their attractiveness, sometimes to remind them, with the bells’ frequent jangling, consequent upon their slightest movement, that they are a slave. They can humiliate and shame the slave, particularly a new slave, or stir her belly, exciting her with her vulnerability and the profound meaning of her condition. Too, of course, they can have their effect on the male. In a case such as yours, they might function differently, rather as a penalty brand, to warn others that, say, their wearer is petty and untrustworthy. Indeed, there are many reasons why a slave might be belled."

One might add, as a note, that paga girls, dancers, and such, are often belled. Indeed, one of the pleasures of some paga taverns are the bells of the slaves, jangling, as they hasten about, serving their master's custom. The most common belling site on a slave is her left ankle.

"I am a Ubara,” she said.

"That is absurd,” said Cabot. “Where is your city?"

"I do not need a city,” she said.

"Where is your army?"

"I do not need an army,” she said.

"Few Ubaras are found in the cattle pens,” he said, “though I suppose a few might be."

"I was betrayed by Lord Agamemnon,” she said. “Were he human, and not Kur, he would have obeyed me."

"You saw him?” asked Cabot, sharply.

"One of his bodies,” she said. “A land tharlarion, he attended by Lords Lucullus and Crassus."

"I have seen that body,” said Cabot.

"I have great power over men,” she said.

"That is because you are not in a collar,” he said. “Then they would have great power over you."

"You yourself kissed me,” she said, “in the forest world."

The slave, Lita, gasped. How foolish she was! Did she not know she was no more than a slave, and thus rightless, and meaningless?

"It was a lapse,” said Cabot, “but I admit you would fit nicely in a man's arms."

Lita looked up, her eyes fresh with tears.

"Particularly if you were in a collar,” said Cabot. “But then that is true of any woman."

"I have never forgotten your touch,” she said, softly.

"You squirmed nicely,” said Cabot, “exactly as would a slave."

Lita whimpered, in protest.

The Lady Bina laughed. “You are trying to make me angry,” she said. “You will not succeed."

"Lord Grendel rescued you,” said Cabot. “He saved your life. He loves you."

"He is Kur,” she said, “and a poor Kur, one deformed, consider his hands, his voice."

"Master,” whispered Lita, “Lord Grendel approaches."

"Tal,” said Cabot, rising.

"Tal,” said Lord Grendel.

"Where is the tool, to free me of this hated device?” said the Lady Bina, indicating the unwelcome encirclement which graced her slim neck.

There are chain collars, thought Cabot.

As it is difficult to engrave such, these will commonly bear a small, dangling metal disk. On this disk pertinent information may be recorded, such as a girl's current name and master.

"Forgive me, my lady,” said Lord Grendel, “I could not find one in the time I had.” He then turned to Cabot. “Many of the cattle are now beyond the pens. This will attract attention. There will doubtless be inquiries. I think it is best for us to leave this place, and seek some camp of allies."

"I know one,” said Cabot.

"I, too,” said Lord Grendel.

"Let us lose no time,” said Cabot.

As the Lady Bina rose to her feet the bell on her neck gave out its note.

"Master,” exclaimed Lita, pointing, toward the left. “There!"

"It is one of the cattle,” said Cabot.

The massive thing, perhaps six hundred pounds in weight, was in the area from which the ropes and hooks had approached the slaughter bench.

"Drive it away!” demanded the Lady Bina.

Stupidly, balefully, the creature, massive and stolid, not moving, was looking at the Lady Bina.

"I think he remembers her,” said Cabot. “I think he knows what she did. I think he understands now what she was doing."

"Get rid of him!” said the Lady Bina, shuddering.

"I do not think such things are dangerous,” said Lord Grendel.

"Perhaps not before,” said Cabot, “but now I do not know. Things are not now the same."

"Drive it away!” demanded the Lady Bina.

"It is only human,” said Lord Grendel.

"Drive it away!” she said.

"Very well, my lady,” he said, and raised his arms and roared, and the creature turned slowly about, and moved away.

"What will be done with the bodies?” asked Cabot.

Lita looked sick.

"Our cohorts, I think,” said Lord Grendel, “will burn this place."

"Good,” said Cabot.

"Where are we going?” asked the Lady Bina.

"Blindfold her,” said Cabot.

"It may be best,” said Lord Grendel.

"Never!” said the Lady Bina.

"A hood would be better,” said Cabot, “and a gag hood even better. I would much enjoy shoving the packing in her pretty little mouth, securing it behind the back of her neck, and then fastening the hood on her, buckling it in place, closely, tightly."

"She is a free woman,” said Lord Grendel, scandalized.

"She might run to the purple scarves, and seek to ingratiate herself once more with Agamemnon, swearing her fealty to him, perhaps bartering for power with our plans and positions,” said Cabot.

"Purple scarves?” she said.

"The ensigns of those loyal to Agamemnon,” said Cabot, watching her.

"Oh,” she said.

Cabot was satisfied then with the results of his experiment.

"You would not betray us, would you?” asked Lord Grendel.

"Certainly not,” she said.

"Let us leave her here,” said Cabot.

"No!” she said.

"Humans will be killed on sight,” said Grendel.

"Take me with you!” she said.

"Better to put an ost in your pouch,” said Cabot.

The ost, according to the resources, is a tiny, highly venomous snake. It is indigenous to certain locales on Gor.

"Let us leave her here, bound hand and foot,” said Cabot.

"Never,” said Lord Grendel.

And thus Cabot's second experiment came to its conclusion. He had satisfied himself that the Lady Bina, as he had supposed, could not be trusted, and that Lord Grendel, for whatever reason, might die before he would permit harm to come to her.

Cabot wished that she might be collared, for then she would be of little danger to anyone, save to herself, if she were not fully pleasing to masters.

"Are the jewels in her tiara genuine?” asked Cabot.

"I would think so,” said Lord Grendel, “as that would improve the joke, Lord Agamemnon rewarding her with riches of little interest to himself, and then placing her naked in the pens. Thus she was genuinely rewarded with wealth, perhaps as promised, and then, afterwards, treated as Lord Agamemnon thought appropriate."

"Treated as the despicable, worthless, treacherous slut she was,” said Cabot.

"Kurii often have dealings with traitors,” said Lord Grendel, “but they feel no obligation to be fond of them, to respect them, and such."

"Let us be on our way,” she said.

Then she looked at Lita, with disgust.

"If any are to be left here, bound hand and foot,” she said, “let it be she, whose presence might handicap us, a worthless slave."

"She is not mine,” said Lord Grendel.

"She comes with us,” said Cabot.

Lita threw him a swift glance, of relief, of joy, of gratitude.

"Wait!” said the Lady Bina. “I cannot go like this. I am unclothed!"

"We will find you something suitable, as soon as possible,” said Lord Grendel.

"See,” said the Lady Bina, “the slave is clothed and I am not!"

"It is only a tiny, shameful tunic,” said Lord Grendel, “a handful of cheap, clinging cloth."

"She is clothed,” said the Lady Bina.

"But,” said Lord Grendel, “it is not a garment for such as you, a free woman. It is a garment designed to designate its wearer's worthlessness, her meaninglessness, that she is no more than goods, no more than an animal. It is, like others of its kind, little more than a degrading rag. Do not think of it. Put it from your mind! It is clearly no more than the mockery of a garment. Consider its lightness, its brevity. It is brazen. It is shamefully revealing. It is the sort of garment in which a lusty man, for his pleasure, and amusement, would put a woman helplessly in his power, indeed, if he permitted her a garment at all. To such a garment, in its scantiness, in its revealing suggestiveness, in what it says about its occupant, might not a full and honest nudity be preferable? Such a garment is a public proclamation that its wearer, by it so belittled and demeaned, by it so mercilessly exhibited, by it so blatantly exposed, can be no more than a slave."

"I will have it,” she said.

"Please, no, my lady!” said Lord Grendel.

"My tiara,” she said, “will enhance and redeem the ensemble. It will indicate my condition, my rank."

"My lady!” protested Lord Grendel, in misery.

"Slave!” said the Lady Bina.

"Mistress,” said Lita, her head down, frightened.

Lita was kneeling, as is common with slaves in the presence of free persons. She did have her knees together, doubtless because of the presence of a free woman, Lady Bina.

"Remove your garment,” said the Lady Bina. “Give it to me!"

Lita looked wildly at Cabot.

"Must a command be repeated?” he asked.

"No, Master,” she whispered.

A slave's obedience is to be instantaneous, and unquestioning. The least hesitation may mean the whip. They are slaves.

"Good,” said the Lady Bina, seizing the garment. She then held it to her nose, disdainfully. “It stinks,” she said.

Lita had, that very morning, washed the garment, and her own body, in a small stream, shortly before they had encountered the trapped sleen, subsequently freed by Cabot.

To be sure, a garment will retain the scent of a wearer, even if worn for a few moments. If this is not clear to a human, it is clear to us, and, of course, even more so to sleen, but then the sleen, as is well known, is a remarkable tracker. Goreans use them for such purposes, and so, too, do we.

"And you stink,” added the Lady Bina.

"Yes, Mistress,” whispered Lita.

"At least she does not have a bell on her neck,” said Cabot.

The Lady Bina regarded him, with fury.

"We will remove it as soon as possible,” Lord Grendel reassured the Lady Bina.

"Is the slave crying?” asked the Lady Bina, amused.

"I trust not,” said Cabot. Lita's head was down, far down, almost to the floor.

The slave, who as an animal is not entitled to clothing, and may be denied clothing altogether, if it be the wish of her master, is likely to find even a tunic, even a camisk, precious. Now she had been deprived of her single garment, slight as it was, in the presence of a free woman. In this way another aspect of her slavery was brought home to her. “It is a good lesson for her,” thought Cabot. “Such small things help her to better understand what she is, slave."

The Gorean slave girl is much at the mercy of free women, by whom she is likely to be resented and hated, and free women are not above petty exercises of power, ordering the slave to kneel, to serve her, to bare herself, to kiss her embroidered slippers, and such. Too, not unoften a tearful slave returns to her master with her tunic wadded in her mouth and the welts of a switch upon the backs of her thighs. The protection of the slave, of course, is the male. The better the slave pleases her master the more likely he is to intervene between her and free women. Many a blow, thus, has been prevented by the interposition of a free male between his slave and a free woman, to the fury of the frustrated free woman. This is as it should be, for a slave's whippings, should she be whipped, are most appropriately at the discretion of the master. Needless to say, most slaves endeavor to so please the master that they are seldom, if ever, whipped. Occasionally, interestingly, a slave may beg to be whipped, that she be reminded that she is a slave. Too, sometimes, a master will bind and whip his girl, with the same object in mind, to remind her that she is a slave.

Clearly Lita, shaken, now stripped, whether she should of or not, felt miserable, reduced, shamed, humiliated, and worthless, before a free woman, and before Grendel and her master.

A tear had fallen to the boards.

"It will have to do,” said the Lady Bina, holding the garment out. “It stinks of the body of a slave, but it is better than nothing."

"Perhaps not,” said Lord Grendel. “Consider its lines, its lightness, what it does for its occupant's lineaments. Consider, too, its meaning!"

The Lady Bina swiftly drew on the tunic.

"Ai!” said Cabot, appreciatively.

She pulled it down, more closely, about her hips.

"Do you like it?” she asked Cabot.

"You lack only the collar,” said Cabot.

"Is it attractive?"

"Yes,” said Cabot. “Indeed, a master might be reluctant to allow you on the streets so clad, but then, if you were a slave, he would have no choice. It would be a matter of law."

"Poor slaves!” she laughed.

"You might be stalked, and stolen,” said Cabot. “Bids would doubtless be forthcoming on you."

"I am so beautiful?” she asked.

"Certainly,” said Cabot, “and such a garment much enhances a woman's beauty, which is its purpose."

"Oh?” she said.

"And such a garment,” he said, “has its role, too, to play in the protection of free women."

"How so?” she asked, puzzled.

"Suppose you were a slaver or raider,” said Cabot, “and you had to choose between a woman so clad, an indisputable beauty, one with an obvious sales value, one who might go for several coins, and an unknown quantity, a woman heavily robed and veiled, who, stripped, might be of little interest even to a myopic tarsk. On which would your capture rope be more likely to fall and tighten?"

"I see,” she said.

"But the major reason for so clothing slaves,” he said, “is doubtless for the pleasure of men."

"The beasts!” she said.

"Have no fear, my lady,” said Grendel. “We will shortly obtain something more suitable."

"Too,” said Cabot, “they help the slave keep clearly in mind that she is a slave, and such garments, too, have their effect on her."

"And what is that?” she asked.

"In them,” he said, “she cannot help but feel female, helpless, and vulnerable."

"I see,” she said.

"Accordingly,” he said, “in such a garment, the slave is very much sexually aware, acutely so, and this has a common consequence."

"And what is that?” she asked.

"That she cannot help but be sexually ready, and even, frequently, whether she wishes it or not, in a state of sexual arousal."

"I see,” she said.

"Shortly, shortly!” insisted Lord Grendel.

"Be quiet,” chided the Lady Bina.

Cabot noted that his friend, Lord Grendel, was uneasy, and moist about the jaws.

Ah, thought Cabot, he is not unaware of the effect of that tiny garment on the body of the Lady Bina.

Surely then he will hasten to have her the sooner more appropriately clothed.

It is difficult to see a woman with dignity and respect in such a garment. Indeed, is that not another purpose of such a garmenture, that in it a woman cannot be viewed with dignity or respect, that in it she can be viewed as only a slave.

"Free women,” said the Lady Bina, “are a thousand times more beautiful than slaves."

Cabot turned to regard his slave, Lita. Her head was down, and her knees were together. “Position!” he snapped. “Get your head up!"

"Yes, Master!” gasped the slave. There were tears in her eyes. She then knelt well, in first position.

Lita was apparently an extremely attractive girl, for a human. But this is common, as we understand it, for human female slaves.

"She obeys nicely,” said the Lady Bina. “What a degrading position,” she laughed.

"It is a lovely position,” said Cabot. “Quite beautiful."

"For a female slave,” said the Lady Bina.

"Certainly,” said Cabot.

The Lady Bina, regarding the obedient, commanded slave, laughed derisively.

The eyes of the slave were bright with tears.

She trembled, and sobbed.

She did not, however, break position. A slave might be lashed for that.

"Lita,” said Cabot.

"Master?” she said.

"You are in a collar,” he said, “a slave collar."

"Master?” she said.

"Be pleased,” he said.

"Master?” she said.

"The collar,” he said, “is a badge of beauty, a token of excellence, a certification of superiority. It testifies that you are amongst the most desirable, the most beautiful, the most coveted of women. Do you think it is bestowed thoughtlessly, or lightly? Women such as you have been selected out from amongst others, many others. Your limbs have been found worthy of chains, your throat found fit for the clasping circlet of bondage. Do you not understand that merchants choose such as you with a profit in mind, that you are that valuable, and that you are such, and carefully selected to be such, that you might drive a man mad with desire? You have been collared, girl. You are a collared female. Understand the meaning of that. And on your part have you not dreamed of being the vulnerable, helpless object of unmitigated lust? Have you not dreamed of being so desirable that nothing short of owning you, literally owning you, will satisfy a man? And have you not dreamed of being owned, of being uncompromisingly possessed, as no more than an animal or thing, of finding yourself at the feet of a man by whom you know, to your relief and joy, your dream fulfilled, your search over, you are going to be mastered, fully mastered, whether you wish it or not, categorically and wholly?"

"Master!” she breathed.

"Kneel up, then,” he said, “and keep your head up. You are nothing, and everything. Be pleased. You are a slave. You belong at a slave ring. Men will bid for you. You, you lovely piece of goods, you delightful bit of merchandise, are worth coins."

"Yes, Master!” she said.

Cabot, you see, was well aware of much that was unknown to, and perhaps incomprehensible to, his slave, how a woman can rejoice that she has been found so beautiful, and so desirable, that nothing short of owning her will satisfy a man. And what woman does not wish to be so lusted for that nothing short of owning her will satisfy a man? What woman does not long for a master, and what man for a slave?

"In the opinion of many,” said Cabot, “slaves are a thousand times more beautiful than free women. To be sure, some of it may have to do with the collar, and its meaning."

The Lady Bina turned angrily away.

"Why do we not leave here?” she asked.

"We shall,” said Cabot. He reached into his pouch.

"What are you doing?” demanded the Lady Bina.

"It is for the best,” said Lord Grendel.

"No!” exclaimed the Lady Bina.

Cabot, from behind, carefully placed the strip of narrow cloth over the eyes of the free woman, and then, drawing it back, wrapped it about her head, and then again, and then secured it at the back of her head.

"This is not necessary,” she said. “Oh!"

Cabot had taken a doubled strand of slave cord, put it about her left wrist, drawn the free strands through the loop, jerked the loop thusly formed tight on her wrist, and then, with the free strands beyond the loop, twice encircled her right wrist, pulled the whole tight, and then knotted the cord.

And thus were the free woman's wrists fastened behind her, as simply, as easily, as might have been those of a slave.

"This is an outrage!” said the free woman.

"One more thing,” said Cabot.

"Where are you?” demanded the free woman.

"This,” said Cabot.

He then buckled the leash about her neck.

"This is an outrage!” she hissed.

Cabot jerked the leash twice, against the back of her neck. “It is on her, nicely,” he said.

"An outrage!” she cried.

"It is for the best,” said Lord Grendel.

"We do not trust you,” said Cabot.

"I am loyal!” she said.

"To whom?” asked Cabot.

"To you, to you, to the allies, to Lord Peisistratus, to Lord Arcesilaus, to the foes of Agamemnon, to the revolution!” she said.

"You are a traitress,” said Cabot. “It may amuse the allies to treat you as you deserve, to subject you to a lengthy and hideous death by torture."

"Do not speak to them of such things!” she cried.

"Surely the tiara on your brow,” said Cabot, “makes it clear you were favored by Lord Agamemnon."

"Take it off, take it off!” she cried.

"To be sure,” said Cabot, “it seems a pity to think of that pretty little body disfigured and mangled, burned with irons, torn by hooks, coated with honey, and then put out, alive, staked out naked, helplessly, for the delectation of flocks of tiny, carnivorous song birds. They feed, and sing, and feed, and sing."

"Protect me, Lord Grendel!” she cried.

"I am now Lord Grendel,” he observed.

"Of course, Lord Grendel!” she exclaimed. “Do you not care for me?"

Lord Grendel was silent, fearing to speak.

"Good,” she said. “You are strong, and beautiful, and may yet win my love!"

"Dare he hope for so much?” asked Cabot.

"Yes, yes!” she said.

"What must I do?” asked Grendel.

"First, kill the others, the man, the slave, now!” she said. “Then free me and take me to a place of safety, where we may await the outcome of the strife. If the allies are successful, we will join them. If Agamemnon is successful, humans may yet be permitted to live, and serve, in the world, and I myself will speak on your behalf, to win you pardon for your crime against the world."

"My crime?” asked Lord Grendel.

"Your treason to Lord Agamemnon!” she cried.

"It is time to be on our way,” said Cabot. He drew on the leash of the free woman.

"Kill them!” screamed the free woman.

"Perhaps later,” said Cabot. “We must now be on our way.” He then drew her to the side. “Do not move,” he told her, “for there is an opening here, and if you fall, it will be to your death."

She whimpered, and stood, unsteadily.

"There is a ladder,” he said. “Lord Grendel will carry you down the ladder."

"You do it!” she said. “I do not want him to touch me!"

"I am weary,” said Cabot, “and I fear I might drop you, some hundred feet or so."

She turned her blindfolded eyes toward him. Her lips trembled.

"Yes,” he said. “Too, on the flooring below, and later, you will be in the charge of Lita, for Lord Grendel and I must remain unencumbered."

"I am to be in the keeping of a slave!” she said.

"Yes,” said Cabot, “now forgive me, for I must gather some things.” He then went back, near the slaughter bench, where Lord Grendel stood.

"There are no tiny, carnivorous song birds,” said Lord Grendel.

"I know,” said Cabot, “but she does not."

"It is a joke?” said Lord Grendel.

"Of course,” said Cabot. “She is worthless, but we will do our best to protect her."

"Thank you,” said Lord Grendel.

"It is nothing,” said Cabot, a scion of Gor's scarlet caste, the Warriors.

Grendel then went to the trap, where the Lady Bina, and now the slave, Lita, waited.

"I am blindfolded, bound, and leashed!” said Lady Bina, angrily, when she was sure Lord Grendel was near.

"Forgive us, my lady,” he said. “But it is for the best."

He then lifted her to his shoulder.

"Put her head to the rear,” said Cabot.

"Why?” asked Lord Grendel.

"That is the way slaves are carried,” said Cabot.

"No!” she said.

"You lack only the collar,” said Cabot.