Players of Gor

15 What Occurred in the Camp of Boots Tarsk-Bit

"Here he is!" cried Boots. "We have caught him for you!"

Lecchio and Chino held my arms.

In a moment, led by Boots, running, puffing, at the side of them, with a swirl of dust from the paws of the tharlarion, they were in the camp, the riders.

"Sleen! Sleen!" I cried to those of the troupe of Boots Tarsk-Bit.

The tharlarions now swirled about me.

I shook Chino and Lecchio violently in the swirling dust, my head down, almost dislodging them from me. But they retained their grip.

"Hold him! Hold him!" cried the Lady Yanina. "Do not let him escape!"

"Have no fear! He is in the keeping of Boots Tarsk-Bit," called Boots, "actor, promoter, entrepreneur and friend to noble citizens of Brundisium!" he then approached me, carrying manacles. "It is you who are the sleen," he said. Then he said to Chino and Lecchio, "Pull the sleen's hands behind him!" this was done, and the manacles were snapped on me. Chino and Lecchio, however, continued to hold my arms. Petrucchio, with the great wooden sword he used in playing the parts of the "Captain," stood resolutely by. Publius Andronicus stood near, a look of great satisfaction on his face. The player stood a bit away, his arms folded, dispassionately observing the proceedings.

Rowena, Lady Telitsia and Bina knelt in terror to one side, slaves, fearful in the presence of free persons, trembling in the face of this sudden invasion of the camp. Besides her collar, which was Boots's, to whom she belonged, Bina wore a slave bracelet. It had been put on her wrist by the player, whose bracelet it was, signifying that her use was his.

I pulled at the manacles. "Do not attempt to free yourself, fool," said Boots. "You have been manacled by Boots Tarsk-Bit!"

"Well done, friend to Brundisium!" cried Lady Yanina.

Boots bowed low to the Lady Yanina and then, beaming, handed her the key to the manacles. She seized it, laughing, and lifted it, in triumph, showing it to her men.

"I thought you might return here!" she said to me, in triumph, brandishing the key at me. "Flaminius did not think so! He is looking elsewhere! He is scouring the countryside! 'He would not be so much a fool as to return there, he laughed at me. But I am more clever than he, a thousand times more clever! I thought that just for such a reason y ou would dare to return here, the one place most would be sure you would not go! I was right! I begged men and tharlarion from Belnar! Almost against his better judgment he granted them to me. We rode here, in all haste. My judgment is vindicated! Let Flaminius writhe in envy! It is I who was right! It is I who am triumphant! You are my prisoner, my prisoner alone, Bosk of Port Kar, the prisoner of the Lady Yanina!" Again she brandished the key at me, I looking up at her, she on the tharlarion. Then, laughing, she dropped the key triumphantly into the bosom of her garment.

"Your face is naked," I said.

"Stand away from him!" she cried. Then she drew forth a coiled whip from beside her saddle and struck me with it twice.

"Your legs look well," I said.

Again she struck me, and then again.

"I note that you have not yet been permitted footwear," I said. Her feet, bare in the stirrups of the saddle, were dark with dirt, as were her lower legs, from her ride. Her legs did indeed look well, covered with dust though they might be, shapely against the leather of the saddle, and the thick, scaled hide of the tharlarion. The skirt she had been permitted was almost slave short and was cut at the sides. She had not been permitted sleeves in the garment. She was attractive. Probably most men would have wanted to clean her up a bit before using her. It was interesting to conjecture what she might look like washed and combed, and perfumed, and put in a bit of slave silk, and appropriately collared, of course. The skirt she wore, though it came high on her thighs, and was cut at the sides, had a very high waist, its belting cord cinched just under her breasts. Yes, altogether it was a fetching ensemble. Men who had an eye for women must have designed it and she, doubtless, had been given no choice but to wear it. It was opaque, of course. That was surely a concession to her status, that of the free woman. If I came to own her I thought I might give her a similar garment, but one of diaphanous silk. Too, I might shorten it a bit. The inmates of such garment, incidentally, suitable collared, of course, also look well bedecked with barbaric Gorean slave jewelry. Some women, in the beginning, object strenuously to such jewelry, but soon they are begging for it. Her hair, I noted, was loose. This was also doubtless meaningful. Slaves must often wear their hair in such a fashion.

She struck me twice more with the whip, wheeling about on the tharlarion.

"Your hair is loose," I observed.

"Sleen! Sleen!" she screamed.

Again and again the whip fell. I closed my eyes, that I not be blinded. I was pleased she did not have a man's strength. Then, sweating, angrily, she replaced the whip at the side of her saddle.

I grinned at her. Yes, she would look well, properly attired, or properly unattired, cringing at my feet in a collar, knowing that her least discrepancy from the absolute perfections of slave service would instantly bring upon down her the stroke of the five-stranded slave lash, or worse.

"Laugh, fool!" she cried. "It is you who are in manacles! It is you who are my prisoner!"

I looked up at her, not speaking.

"You were the cause of my reduction in rank," she cried. "You were the cause of my loss of status in Brundisium, my descent from favor in the eyes of my Ubar, Belnar, the reason I have been denied the right to conceal my features, my right as a free female, the reason I have been placed in brief, shameful garments, forcing me to make clear to men my femaleness, the reason I may not bind my hair, but must wear it as though it might be that of a slave, but that is all finished now. Now all changes! No, fool, you will be the reason not only for my restoration to privilege and station in Brundisium, the reason for my new rise to favor in the court, in the eyes of Belnar, my Ubar, but the cause, as well, of my attaining there, in the palace and in the service of my Ubar and the state, new heights of prestige, status and power! Let Flaminius weep with envy! I shall be a thousand times higher than he!"

"How is it that you follow a woman?" I asked one of the men.

"We follow the orders of Belnar," he said.

"I see," I said. Women, although they may occasionally function as artifacts, or symbols, or mystical objects, or something along these lines, seldom release the following instinct in men. Men, accordingly, do not on the whole, care to follow them. In doing so they generally feel uncomfortable. It makes them uneasy. They sense the absurdity, the unnaturalness, of the relationship. It is thus that normal men commonly follow women only unwillingly, and only with reservations, usually also only within an artificial context or within the confines of a misguided, choiceless or naive institution, where their discipline may be relied upon. Their compliance with orders in such a situation cannot help but be more critical, more skeptical. Their activities tend then to be performed with less confidence, and more hesitantly. This often produces serious consequences to the efficiency of their actions. It is interesting to note that even women seldom care to follow women, particularly in critical situations. The male, biologically, for better or for worse, appears to be the natural leader. In the perversion of nature, of course, anything may occur. It is ironic that certain leaders will place women over subordinates, for one reason or another, whom they would never accept as their own leaders. Most men, of course, find it easier to inflict inconvenience and pain on others than on themselves.

I looked up at the Lady Yanina. How small and soft, and luscious, she was. How absurd then, and how unnatural, seemed her position of power, temporary though it might be, over these men. how envious she seemed of men, particularly of her rival, Flaminius. How she was straining to seem a leader, how she must have studied what she took to be its lessons well, how she must have firmly resolved to act that role with determination. Perhaps if she did it well she could fool men; perhaps, if she did it well, she would be accepted almost as though she were a real leader, a true leader. Perhaps, if she did it well, no one would notice that she was really only a small, soft, shapely, lovely creature, one whose natural destiny would be found quite elsewhere than in the saddle of a tharlarion, at the head of troops.

"You are a despicable sleen," she said to me.

"Doubtless," I said. There was probably much in what she said. I regarded her. How absurd that she could be in power over these men. They were soldiers. She should be put in her place, the place of the female, kneeling and serving. Perhaps on e day someone would put her there, and she would then come to understand finally and profoundly what she was, a female.

"Smile, if you will, for whatever secret reason, fool," she said, "but it is you who wear the manacles, you who are held in irons at my stirrup."

"It would seem so," I said.

"You are my key to power," she said.

How insolent she was, how arrogant.

"Because of you," she said, "my fortunes will be made in Brundisium! Because of you I will climb there to hitherto undreamed of heights!"

"Perhaps," I said.

"It is I who am victorious," she said. "It is I who am triumphant!"

I recalled she had whipped me.

She turned to one of her men, he whom I had taken, apparently rightly, to be her immediate subordinate. "Put a chain on his neck," she said.

"We anticipated that one of your astuteness might not be deceived by the trickery of the fugitive," said Boots, "that you might suspect his bold return to this camp. Accordingly, we seized him and held him for you."

"Our thanks, actor," she said. "Have no fear. You will be rewarded."

Her man unlooped a chain.

"But moreover," said Boots, "we have arranged things in such a way as to enhance your triumph."

"How is that?" she asked, curious.

"That your prisoner, whom I gather is important to you, may be presented with drama, with flair, nothing so common, so mundane and predictable, as being led in like a pet tarsk."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked, interested.

"I envisage a feast," said Boots, "a triumphal feast."

"No," I said, "no!"

"Hold him," suggested Boots, apprehensively, to Chino and Lecchio. They again seized my arms.

"Anyone," said Boots, "could lead him in on a chain. That fellow Flaminius did it that way, as I recall."

"yes," said the Lady Yanina. Indeed, she had been brought in on a chain by Flaminius at the same time, marched at the stirrup of one of his men, barefoot, her wrists bound behind her, wearing only a sack, that which had been her common garment in the camp, that in which I had put her long ago for my amusement, that which had once contained Sa-Tarna flour. It must have been a difficult moment for the proud Lady Yanina, to have been so returned to her city.

"Imagine this," cried Boots, expansively, with a great gesture, his eyes lighting up, "an incredible banquet, a glorious feast, a feast of victory, a triumphal feast, the most abundant and delicate viands, the finest of entertainment, and then, at the climax of this great feast, you bring forth a great locked trunk! You open it! Within it there is a slave sack! You untie this slave sack! You have its occupant drawn forth. He is helpless and in chains. You display him to the crowd! He is your prisoner! He is your prize! You give him then to your Ubar! It is your moment of triumph!"

"Yes," she cried. "Yes!"

"No!" I cried. "Never! Never! No such triumph for you! No such humiliation for me!" I shook Chino and Lecchio about, fiercely, throwing them even from their feet, but they clung, tenaciously, desperately, like sleen, to my arms. Then, in their grip, still in place, held now again below her, she in the high saddle of the tharlarion, I looked up at the Lady Yanina. She was smiling.

"Never!" I cried.

She did not respond.

"Do not subject me to such humiliation," I said.

She did not respond.

"How can you even think of such a thing," I asked.

She smiled.

"Please, no," I said.

"Bring the slave sack," she said.