Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Sixty-Ninth: CABOT WILL HUNT; FIRST, HE WILL FEAST

Cabot, from behind, slipped his hand over the female's mouth, and then held her helplessly, tightly, back, against him. She squirmed, and made tiny, helpless noises. She was barefoot, and nicely tunicked and collared. Her hands were braceleted before her, closely together. Slaves are often kept braceleted, or chained, bound or such, for no other reason than that they are slaves. “Do not struggle, well-formed beauty,” whispered Cabot, and she, commanded, was instantly quiet, not daring to move in the slightest.

"You may use her, if you wish!” called a merry voice. “Feel free to make her squeak and sob, and cry out!"

"Peisistratus!” cried Cabot, and released the slave. “Corinna!” he said, now recognizing her. But the slave was now kneeling, head down, shuddering, trying to overcome her terror at having been seized.

"We thought we might find you here!” said Archon.

Peisistratus and Archon, and others, rushed forward, to seize Cabot's hand, to embrace him, to weep with gladness at this reunion.

"We feared for you,” said Peisistratus.

"And I for you, and others,” said Cabot. “I see Kurii outside the gate. Are you prisoners?"

"Weaponed prisoners?” laughed Archon.

"They are our Kurii,” said Peisistratus.

"Yes,” said Cabot. “I see! Some I know!"

Ramar, the sleen, lay outside the gate, watching the arrivals, contesting the entry of none. The female slaves edged through the gate, knowing they must enter, but did their best to keep as much distance as was possible between themselves and the huge, watchful, six-legged, viperlike carnivore. The female slaves who were familiar with Gorean civilization were particularly wary of the sleen. They knew they were such as might be hunted by them, and torn to pieces by them, or might be apprehended by them, and then returned by them, being driven, herded, mercilessly, relentlessly, back to the mercies of dreaded, waiting masters. Too, it is one thing for a female slave to enter through such a gate, in the presence of such a watchman, if set there for such a duty, and quite another to exit through the gate. Similarly a verr might be admitted to a verr pen by a guard sleen, but would not be permitted to leave it, except in the company of a herdsman.

Here, in this camp, as on Gor, slaves would well know themselves slaves. They would be kept and managed with perfection. It is the Gorean way.

"We have brought stores with us, abundant supplies, even wine, and paga,” said Peisistratus. He then clapped his hands together, sharply, joyfully. “Get busy, you worthless pot girls, you tarsk-bit sluts, prepare a feast, a mighty feast!"

"Yes, Master!” they cried, and hurried to the crates, and stores, which had been brought into the camp.

Cabot thought that not one of the slaves would have gone for less than a silver tarsk. He knew no slaver, even a Tenalion of Ar, who would not have been pleased to have them on a slaver's necklace.

"What has happened?” cried Cabot. “How are Kurii here? Are they not all slain?"

Just then he glimpsed Cestiphon, the killer human, and Cestiphon's four beauties, neck-roped.

How different they were now!

No longer were they filthy, crouched, and slovenly.

Now they were washed, and brushed and combed, and walked erectly, and beautifully, if fearfully. They approached abreast and, responding to a curt, sharply issued verbal command, they knelt, as one, in line, hands identically placed on their thighs, heads lifted, to the same angle. At another word they half knelt, half lay, the left leg beautifully extended, a common posture for exhibiting brands, but, Cabot noted, they were not yet slave-marked, and at another word they sat down, knees partly flexed, hands on their knees, heads lifted. Another word released them from their discipline and they gratefully reclined, as they would.

"They are learning,” said Peisistratus. “I have been helping Cestiphon improve their value. Soon, I think we can take them off the neck rope. Soon, I suspect, they will be ready for pretty brands and nice, close-fitting metal collars."

"I see they are still naked,” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said Peisistratus. “They are still essentially primates. As they grow in bondage and learn how beautiful and desirable they are, and how men see them, they will strive zealously for as little as the shielding of a slave strip."

Modesty, though officially not permitted to a female slave, as they are animals, is often important to them. Whereas they think nothing of being bared before their master, who may keep them in no more than a collar, it is quite another thing to be nude in public, on the streets, in a market, and such. One can well imagine their shame, their consternation, to be, say, on the streets, where they might be seen by strangers, and, in particular, might fall beneath the contemptuous gaze of free women, their eyes flashing in disgust and fury over their veiling. In any event, a skimpy, rent, castoff tunic may be more precious to a slave than a vast, expensive wardrobe to her free sister. Whether a slave is permitted clothing or not, and, if so, its extent and nature, is not up to the slave, of course, but her master. She cannot own as little as a slave strip. She can own nothing. It is she who is owned. A slave's desire for clothing, and her hope that it will be permitted to her, even a slave strip, gives her master additional control over her. Some think this is quite as effective as the whip.

"Where is the Lady Bina?” asked Cabot.

"In the palace,” said Peisistratus.

"With Agamemnon?” said Cabot.

"We do not think Agamemnon is any longer in the palace,” said Peisistratus.

"Where is he?"

"We do not know,” said Peisistratus.

"What has happened? How is it that you are here?” asked Cabot. “I understand nothing."

"Much has happened,” said Archon.

"The loyalists,” said Peisistratus, “acted."

"The world was invaded,” said Peisistratus. “Those forces which attacked the world, after the defeat of the fleet, and seemed to withdraw, only drew back to turn about and, when not expected, renew more vigorously the attack which, before, had been little more than a feint."

"The world has fallen?” said Cabot.

"Agamemnon has fallen, not the world,” said a Kur.

"Lord Arcesilaus is the Twelfth face of the Nameless One,” said Peisistratus, “Theocrat of the World."

"I understand nothing of this,” said Cabot. “I thought our Kurii were to sacrifice themselves for the life of Arcesilaus."

"They were prepared to do so,” said Archon. “It was what we expected."

"What happened?” asked Cabot.

"Our Kurii were unarmed, as you recall. Thus, in the presence of Lord Arcesilaus, who was chained, and was still weak from wounds, standing on the steps of the palace, begging them to neglect him and renew the struggle, they must petition the loyalists to fire upon them."

"And they refused to do so?” said Cabot.

"No,” said Peisistratus. “They are Kur. They petitioned the loyalists to destroy them where they stood, in honor, before the protesting, pleading Lord Arcesilaus. The loyalists saw that Lord Arcesilaus did not wish to have his life purchased at such a cost. This was Kur. They saw, too, that our forces were prepared to give their lives for Lord Arcesilaus, and this, too, was Kur."

"What then must be the might and worthiness of a cause so served, by adherents and partisans of such nobility?” said Archon.

"The treachery of the amnesty betrayal still rankled with many,” said a Kur, “for that was not Kur."

"Too,” said another, “the luring of Lord Grendel into an ambush, with odds of more than twenty to one, was not pleasing to many. It is one thing for a Kur to challenge a Kur, Kur to Kur, as in the rings. It is quite another for what are in effect no more than armed brigands, concealing themselves like vermin amongst beasts, to suddenly, unexpectedly, rise up to slay a single, unarmed foe, one not set for battle."

"It is not Kur,” said another Kur.

"No,” agreed another.

"Our forces,” said a Kur, “waited, surrounded by loyalists, rung in tiers about us."

"We were prepared to die,” said another Kur.

"Fight!” cried Arcesilaus.

We did not move.

"Then he cried, ‘Down with Agamemnon!’”

"The great voice of Agamemnon then rang out,” said a Kur. “'Kill them, kill them all!’”

"'Fire!'” called out Lucullus, high captain to Agamemnon, who stood near Arcesilaus, amongst his many guards and jailers. “'Fire!'” cried Crassus, as well, high lieutenant to Agamemnon.

"The weapons were leveled,” said a Kur. “But then there was a hesitation."

"And in that moment of hesitation, that one moment of hesitation,” said another Kur, “we triumphed."

"'Fire, fire, fire!’ called Agamemnon,” said another Kur, “but none fired, and it became clear, moment by moment, that none would do so."

"A voice then from somewhere amongst the loyalists,” said a Kur, “we do not know who it was, cried out, ‘Hail Lord Arcesilaus, Twelfth Face of the Nameless One, Theocrat of the World!’”

"This cry,” said another, “was taken up by a thousand voices. Guards beside Lord Arcesilaus raised their weapons to slay him, but they were burned alive beside him. A hundred weapons began to fire. The steps of the palace were gouged with flame, chips of stone showered aflight, exploding from the steps, dark lines of flame laced them, the very air was smoking and burning, and Lucullus and Crassus, and several others, those who could, fled in rout back to the shelter of the palace."

"The palace, then,” said a Kur, “was invested."

"The chains of Lord Arcesilaus were struck off, and he was carried to the habitats, that he might be treated,” said another.

"Rejoicing took place,” said another.

"Insurrectionists and loyalists embraced, crying out with joy,” said another.

"But then terror seized all,” said another, “for locks were blown and swarming into the world, to the rolling of drums and the blast of war horns, from a hundred ports, were warriors from the world which Agamemnon had menaced, and whose fleet, so beautifully generaled, had decimated ours."

"All seemed lost,” said a Kur.

"Surely, surprised, taken unawares, all would be slain by that fleet's general,” said another.

"The world had fallen!"

"No quarter would be given, no mercy shown!"

"But it was not to be,” said another Kur. “When it was clear that Agamemnon was no longer in power, that this reversal had come about, the enemy put up its arms, for their foe, you see, was not we, the folk, but he who had been the misleader and tyrant of the folk, Lord Agamemnon. Their war, it seems, was not with us, at all, but with our common foe, Lord Agamemnon."

"The great general, their formidable leader, one of the fiercest and most formidable in all the many steel worlds, ordered his banner furled, the drums and war horns silenced."

"Fraternization took place, and rejoicing,” said another Kur, “but the palace remained apart, invested."

"What is the name of this foreign general, so adept, so feared, so renowned and terrible?” asked Cabot.

"Zarendargar,” said a Kur.

"It is said he asked for you,” said a Kur.

"Do you know him?” asked a Kur.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"How can that be?” asked a Kur.

"Once,” said Cabot, “long ago, in another place, far away, we shared paga."

"When the palace was forced,” said another Kur, “it was found empty."

"Many secret passages were located, which led from the palace,” said another.

"Thus, Agamemnon, and many of his adherents, escaped."

"Twice,” said a Kur, “the world was again in jeopardy, for minions of Agamemnon were surprised in the planting of mighty charges, which, if detonated, would have opened the world to the outside."

"He would destroy the world, rather than have it no longer his,” said Cabot.

"But even his own Kurii, elsewhere in a dozen places, surrendered themselves, and the charges which had been committed to them, rather than perform so hideous and monstrous a deed."

"It would not be Kur,” said a Kur.

"I am pleased,” said Cabot.

"But Agamemnon himself,” said a Kur, “would prefer the forfeiture of a world to the loss of a throne."

"Perhaps even to the least diminution of his power,” said another.

"Such a deed, the destruction of a world, would be his last, grand act,” said a Kur, “a fitting conclusion to his reign."

"Even were such a charge detonated,” said a Kur, “it would not necessarily entail the end of the world."

"No,” said another. “Certainly meteoritic impacts have been anticipated, and prepared for."

"Agamemnon is gone?” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said a Kur.

"Where might he be?” asked Cabot.

"We do not know,” said a Kur.

"Where is Flavion?” asked Cabot.

"The scout?"

"The traitor?"

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"We do not know,” said another.

"In hiding,” said another.

"He cannot be found,” said another.

"I know one who can find him,” said Cabot.

"You have been called for, by Zarendargar, currently the military governor of the world,” said a Kur.

"You should proceed to him, at once,” said another.

"Surely you will do so,” said Peisistratus.

"Convey to him my regards,” said Cabot. “I have something to attend to first."

"But he is governor, he is Zarendargar!” exclaimed a Kur.

"He will understand,” said Cabot. “We have shared paga."

"What will you be about?” asked Archon.

"I think I will go hunting,” said Cabot.

"Perhaps Lord Grendel might like to join you in your hunt?” said Peisistratus.

"I would prefer not to risk him,” said Cabot.

"The hunt will be dangerous?” asked Peisistratus.

"I think so,” said Cabot.

"I am sure he would wish to accompany you,” said Peisistratus.

"Perhaps,” said Cabot.

"Lord Grendel is in the palace,” said a Kur, “assisting in the reorganization and distribution of power."

"Do not inform him of my absence,” said Cabot.

"As you wish,” said Peisistratus, reluctantly.

"Put up a discipline post, somewhere aside, in the camp,” said Cabot, “to which a slave might be tied."

"Excellent,” said Peisistratus. “It will be good for our girls to see such a post."

"You have in mind a particular slave?” asked Archon.

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"It might serve for any of them,” said Archon.

"Certainly,” said Cabot.

"You will not leave until the morning,” said Peisistratus.

"No,” said Cabot.

"Tonight,” said Peisistratus, “we feast."

"In the Gorean manner, I trust,” said Cabot.

"Certainly,” smiled Peisistratus.

"I have not seen Corinna dance since the pleasure cylinder,” said Cabot.

"If she does not dance well,” said Peisistratus, “she will be thrown no food."