Mercenaries of Gor

18 The Treasure Road

"Way! Make way!" called the driver. He sat on the wagon box, some yard or so below, and separated from, the high railed wagon bed, serving, with its benches, as the passenger area. The wheels of the cart were narrow, and some seven feet in height. There were two of them. They were treaded with strips of metal. The cart was drawn by a bipedalian tharlarion, a slighter breed than, but related to, and swifter than, the common shock tharlarion used generally by the lancers of the Gorean heavy cavalry.

"Rich tarsks," snarled a fellow on the road, moving to the side.

"Make way!" called the driver, cracking his whip. The arrival of the cart was announced as well by the jangling of two bells, affixed to projections on its sides, before the wheels. Then we were through the group of refugees, and moving swiftly again.

"I think little treasure moves these days upon this road," said Hurtha. "You are doubtless right," I said, "and the traffic, it seems, flows toward Ar." "Will the Cosians take this route?" asked Hurtha.

"Probably," I said. "It is the most direct route between Torcadino and Ar." I glanced at Boabissia. She was standing at the front of the cart, grasping the front rail, looking forward. Her hair and dress were blown backward in the wind. "Look," I said to Hurtha. "See the soldier by the road, there?"

"Yes," he said, turning about to get a better look. "That is another uniform of Ar," I said.

"That is comforting news," said the fellow to my right. We had seen few such uniforms lately.

"Are you going to Ar?" asked the small fellow sitting across from me. It was he who had the thin mustache.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you have papers?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Oh," he said, smiling.

"Why?" I asked.

"I assume Ar will not accommodate all the refugees who may seek asylum there," he said. "It is hard to see how she could. Doubtless papers, or letters, might be needed."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Such might be worth their weight in gold," he speculated.

"Perhaps," I said.

He leaned forward, confidentially. "Are you carrying valuables?" he whispered. "No," I said. My left hand, I fear, moved, as though to touch the sheath beside me. Then I checked the movement.

"It is just as well," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Do you see the fellow at the end of your bench?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "Why?"

He covered the right side of his mouth with his open hand. "That is Ephialtes," he whispered, "the notorious thief of Torcadino. Beware of him."

"My thanks," I said. It is always good to have such warnings.

The fellow nodded, and sat back on the bench, leaning back against the railing. I resolved that I must watch out for the fellow at the end of the bench, Ephialtes. I was grateful to the fellow across the way for pointing this out to me.

In the back of the cart there was a place for baggage. It was there, in that section, behind that railing, that I had put Feiqa. This was appropriate, as she was property. She was in chains. I did not fear that she would attempt to escape. But it is good, from time to time, to so secure your girls. Just as they are subject to the whip, so, too, are they subject to chains. I rose to my feet and went to stand beside Boabissia.

"Greetings," she said.

"Greetings," I said to her.

"I cannot wait to see Ar," she said.

"If you are standing here, hoping for a first glimpse of Ar," I said, "you are a few days to early."

"I cannot wait to get to Ar," she said.

"Look," I said, gesturing to the side of the road with my head.

"Female slaves," she said, noting them, as we sped past. They were off the road, on the grass, in various attitudes of rest.

"They could give them clothing," she said.

"The day is warm," I said. "Too, such women are often marched naked to save their tunics, that they may not be soiled with dirt and sweat."

The girls were chained together by the neck. Some of them watched us as we passed. Then they were behind us.

"Normally, many more slaves are transported on this road," I said. "We have actually seen very few."

"What will I find in Ar?" asked Boabissia. She fingered the copper disk at her neck.

"I do not know," I said.

"I think I may have a great inheritance," she said. "Perhaps I shall find that I own vast estates, that funds in trust have been left for me, that I am of noble family, that I am one of the richest and most powerful women of Ar!"

"Why should you think such things? I asked.

"Do you think them impossible," she asked, turning to me.

"No," I said. "I do not think they would be impossible."

"I was traveling, though only a baby, with a great caravan," she said. "Does that not bespeak station and wealth?"

I shrugged. "I do not know," I said.

"I think it possible," she said.

"Yes," I said. "It is possible, surely." "Look at those poor women," said Boabissia. We were now passing, they had been coming towards us, three sturdy lasses under the herd stick of a brawny male. They were bent almost double under towering burdens of branches and sticks, bound together in fagots. They were moving in single file. They were tied together, a rope on their necks. They looked up as the fee cart passed them. The male waved to our driver, who returned the salute.

"Such a fate might have been yours," I said, "had we attempted to reach Ar across country."

"They are slaves?" she asked.

"Of course," I said.

"Oh," she said, "then it does not matter."

"I had not anticipated the possibility of buying passage on a fee cart," I said. "I did not know any would still be running. Else I would not even have considered traveling across country, at least with a free woman."

"We are making excellent time," she said.

"Yes," I said. "In a few days we should reach Ar."

"Is it a beautiful city?" she asked.

"Yes," I told her.

"I am certain," said Boabissia, happily, fingering the small copper disk at her neck, "that I am of lofty birth, and high station. I cannot wait until I get to Ar, to claim my glory and wealth!"

I did not respond.

"There is no telling, what with interest rates on the Street of Coins, the maturation of notes, and such, to what heights my fortune, in these several years, may have soared."

I did not respond.

"I may be one of the noblest, richest and most powerful women in Ar," she said. "Perhaps," I said.

We then passed a cage wagon. There were some five female slaves within it, in rag tunics. Two of them held the bars of the cage, watching us, as we passed. "They are probably on their way to a market, somewhere," I said. "Feiqa is looking well lately," said Boabissia, somewhat critically. "Yes, I think so," I said.

"What are you doing with her at night?" asked Boabissia.

"I do not know," I said. "I suppose the usual things masters do with slaves." "I see," said Boabissia. "I spoke to her this morning."

"Oh?" I said.

"Yes," said Boabissia. "She seems frightened of me."

"You are a free woman," I told her.

"She did not dare even to look into my eyes," she said.

"Perhaps she feared to be thought too forward or bold, looking into the eyes of a free woman," I said.

"Perhaps," said Boabissia. "Is she so timid with you?"

"Sometimes," I said.

"I do not think you have beaten her much lately," said Boabissia.

"No," I said.

"Why not?" asked Boabissia.

"She is now pretty well trained." I said.

" "Trained, " said Boabissia.

"Yes," I said, "ideally, once a girl is trained, suitably trained, of course, there is not likely to be much call for beating her. She may also, of course," I said, "be beaten at the master's pleasure, for any reason or for no reason." "Of course," said Boabissia. "She is a slave."

"Too, some masters feel that a girl should be whipped once in a while, if only to help her keep clearly in mind that she is still a slave. Such whippings, occasionally administered, are thought to by many to have a salutary effect on her."

"Of course," said Boabissia. "One must be strict with slaves."

"To be sure," I said, "a skilled, diligent slave is seldom beaten." "Perhaps," said Boabissia, "but I think it is still good for them to feel the whip once in a while."

"Perhaps you are right." I said.

"If I were a man," she said, "I would be merciless with them." I was silent.

"I would teach them their sex, and quickly, and no two ways about it," she said. "It is perhaps fortunate for them that you are not a man," I said.

"Perhaps," she laughed.

"You are not a man," I said.

"I know," she said.

"Do you?" I asked.

"Of course," she said.

"You are a beautiful young woman," I said.

She blushed, even with the wind against her face.

"Perhaps you should hope, and desperately," I said, "that you never fall slave." "Why," she asked.

"Because perhaps you might fall into the hands of a fellow who might be as rigorous and strict with you, as you would be, or as you seem to claim you would be, had you a female such as yourself in your power, and you were a man." "But I am a free woman."

"Feiqa was once free," I said.

"Not really," she said.

"Oh," I asked.

"No," she said. "I spoke to Feiqa the other day. I asked her if she was a natural slave. Do you know what she said?"

"No," I said.

"She said, " "Yes.

"I think it true," I said.

"Is it true that she begged bondage," asked Boabissia, "that she chose slavery of her own free will?"

"Yes," I said.

"What a fool," said Boabissia.

"Perhaps," I said. To be sure, such a decision should not be made lightly. Such a decision may be made of one's own free will, but it cannot be revoked by one's own free will, for, after it is made, one is then helpless to alter or influence one's new condition in any way.

"You do not think so?" asked Boabissia.

"No," I said. "Why not?" asked Boabissia.

"Suppose some women were natural slaves," I said.

"Some wicked, low women?" asked Boabissia.

"If you like," I said.

"Continue," she said.

"If some women are natural slaves, and know this in their hearts," I said, "would you prefer that they conceal this from the world? Do such lies please you? Do you commend them, truly? Would you advise these women to indulge in deceit, to rejoice in the practice of hypocrisy? What do you say to their needs? Are these of no importance, because they may not appeal to you, personally? Do you encourage them to deprivation? Do you really prescribe for them in their tumult and yearning larger and larger, and more and more bitter, does of frustration? Must everyone be as you think perhaps you yourself should be, as you desperately command yourself to be? What do you fear? What accounts for your hostility, your venomous resentment? Would you truly keep them from their natural fulfillment?"

"I suppose not," said Boabissia, "if they are truly such things."

"Yet, there are some I have heard of," I said, "who might deny a natural slave her bondage, even by law, no matter what might be the mental, emotional and physical damage of this."

"That is absurd," said Boabissia. "Slavery is fitting, morally and legally, for the natural slave, of course. No one in their right mind could conceive of denying that."

"For natural slaves?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

"A wench such as Feiqa?" I said.

"Of course," said Boabissia.

"In such a case then," I said, "if Feiqa is a natural slave, it might be fitting, don't you think, that she acknowledged this, and then entered humbly upon her authentic reality?"

"Yes," said Boabissia, "as she is such a slut,"

"Perhaps you think it was even morally incumbent upon her, given what she was, to have done so?" I asked.

"I think it was fitting, that it was fully appropriate," said Boabissia, uneasily, "but I do not think it was her actual duty to have done so."

"Then you might see her act, considering all that is involved, the bold confession, the loss of status, the stern nature of bondage, the now belonging helplessly and totally to a master, how free women will now treat her and look upon her, as the act of a very brave woman," I said.

"Or of a very desperate one," said Boabissia, "perhaps one who has fought with herself for so long and so painfully that at last she can stand it no longer, and in piteous surrender and relief flings herself to the feet of a man, where she belongs."

"Perhaps," I said.

"Such a fate is appropriate for natural slaves," said Boabissia scornfully. "The sooner they get the collars on their necks the better."

"The better?" I asked.

"The better for themselves, the better for men, the beasts, and the better for noble free women, whom they can then no longer pretend to be like."

"I am glad to hear you say that," I said.

"Oh?" asked Boabissia.

"Yes," I said, "for all women are natural slaves."

"No!" said Boabissia. "No!"

"And no woman," I said, "can be completely fulfilled unless she understands this, accepts it and behaves accordingly."

"No!" said Boabissia. "No! No!"

"It is just a theory," I said.

Boabissia clung to the rail, gasping. Her hands were white on the rail. She was trembling.

"Are you all right," I asked.

"Yes," she whispered, her head down, clinging to the rail. I could not help thinking how lovely a collar would look upon her throat.

She looked up. "It is only a theory, is it not?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

She shook, clinging to the rail.

"To be sure," I said, "it may be a true theory." She did not respond. I then, seeing that she was distressed, returned to my seat. After a time, she returned to, too, to her place on the bench. She did not meet my eyes, then, nor those of Hurtha, nor, I think, of any of the other men in the cart.