Swordsmen of Gor

Chapter Twenty-Nine WE EMERGE FROM THE FOREST

I heard the cries of joy from forward, and knew the scouts, if not others, had now emerged from the forest, and beheld, in the morning sun, sparkling below in the valley, the winding Alexandra.

Men rushed forward.

Slaves crowded, as they could, to the sides of the wagons, on their tethers, striving to understand the commotion.

Saru, in her wagon, precariously in her shackles, stood up, trying to peer ahead.

I heard more shouts now, and was sure the first wagons had emerged from the forest.

I saw Sumomo and Hana, shading their eyes, emerge from the portal on their closed wagon and, standing on its small porch, strain to see what might be the cause of the ebullition.

Tharlarion, down the long line, lifted their heads, distended their nostrils, and bellowed. They could smell the water, perhaps the verdant grazing near the river.

Pertinax was with me.

Knowing that we should reach the Alexandra in the late morning we had freed Cecily and Jane.

“Master!” cried Cecily, elated.

“Heel us,” I snapped.

Dutifully the girls fell in behind us, on our left.

No matter how indulgent or permissive one is with slaves, they must never be permitted to forget they are slaves. If necessary, they may be whipped, to remind them. Indeed, some masters feel that a slave should be occasionally whipped, if only to help them keep in mind that they are slaves. To be sure, given Gorean discipline, a slave is seldom likely to be in any doubt about the matter. Certain prosaic regularities contribute to this purpose, that the slave will commonly kneel upon entering the master’s presence, that she may speak only when having the master’s permission to do so, that she must often kneel and kiss the whip or switch in the morning, that she may not clothe herself without his permission, that she may not take food before the master, that she may not leave the domicile without his permission, and she must give an account of her intentions before leaving and an account of her activities upon returning, and so on. Many such things remind her of her bondage. Too, one must not forget what occurs at her master’s slave ring.

“I will relish a bathing in the river,” said Pertinax.

“I did not know barbarians were fastidious,” I remarked.

I feared all on the march, with the exception of the contract women and Saru were the much the worse for the past few days.

“May we bathe, Master?” asked Cecily.

“You will be better off to seek oils and a heated tub,” I said. “The river will be cold.”

Too, I thought the slaves should soon be better garmented, for in spite of the late summer, so to speak, it was now fall, and the weather, with the season, must soon chill.

The march had certainly been cold enough and miserable enough, even for the men.

“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman!” called Tajima, hurrying beside the wagons, toward us. He, with the cavalry, had come ahead, days ago.

We bowed to one another. He was uncomfortable, I had gathered, with the clasping of hands, even the mariner’s grip, wrist to wrist. Much varies from culture to culture.

But, clearly, he was pleased to see me, and I him.

He looked at Pertinax.

“Say ‘Tal’,” I said to Pertinax.

“Tal,” said Pertinax.

“Tal,” said Tajima, pleasantly. There is an order to such things, and Tajima, correctly or incorrectly, regarded himself as senior to Pertinax, who was a mere barbarian. That he had addressed me first, rather than I him, was appropriate, given that I was his captain, so to speak, with respect to the cavalry. I occasionally erred in these rituals, but these lapses tended to be accepted with good grace, being attributed to my innocent lack of couth, and that no affront was intended. Amongst those who know what they are doing in such waters things can become subtly tense. I sometimes sensed that social duels were in progress which were simply beyond my comprehension.

“Look,” whispered Pertinax.

Both he and Tajima bowed as Nodachi passed, going forward.

“I did not know he was with the march,” I said. Certainly I had not seen him.

“He was not with the march, but behind it,” said Tajima. “He followed the march, to protect its rear.”

“I see,” I said.

“You are all very filthy,” said Tajima.

Cecily and Jane lowered their heads. The female slave is expected to keep herself neat, well-groomed, clean, combed, brushed, and so forth. She is, after all, not a free woman. Too, she is usually expected to keep herself at her “block measurements,” namely the measurements she was sold at. Accordingly, regimens of diet and exercise may be forced upon her. Again, she is a slave, not a free woman. Much may be concealed beneath the “Robes of Concealment,” but a slave tunic conceals almost nothing.

“How is Sumomo?” asked Tajima.

“I think you will find her clean and dry, and nasty, as usual,” I said.

“Excellent,” said Tajima.

“How excellent?” I asked.

“I can continue to think of her as fit for the collar.”

“I see,” I said.

“But come along,” he said. “See the river camp.”

“We will spend the winter there,” I said.

“No,” said Tajima.

“I do not understand,” I said.

“Come along,” he said.

We moved toward the head of the column, it now arrested, as most of the drovers, and others, had abandoned the wagons to hurry forward, to see at last before them a vista, and not the gloomy, enclosing walls of a seemingly endless corridor of trees.

“What is it, Master? What is it?” called a slave to a passing guard, but then she cried out in fear, turned her back, crouched down, and covered her head with her hands and arms, and was struck several times with his switch.

“Curiosity,” said the guard, “is not becoming in a kajira.”

“Yes, Master,” she wept. “Forgive me, Master!”

It is well known hat kajirae are amongst the most curious of beasts. How eager they are to be informed, to be brought up to date, to learn the latest! They will beg, wheedle, scratch, and scramble for the tiniest particle of news. The girl who knows something the others do not is as a Ubara in the slave quarters. How she is pressed! How all hang upon her superior, sly glances, her least, carefully rationed word!

How pleasant it is sometimes to frustrate them, and see them pout and squirm in ignorance, tears in their eyes. In this way, too, of course, they may be reminded that they are no more than slaves.

We came then, at last, to an opening in the trees, and stood upon a rise, from which a road led gently downward through the valley toward the river.

There were more than four or five hundred men there, come forward from the column.

I could see Lord Nishida and his guard making their way down toward the river. Some from the shore, and the structures there, were climbing to meet them.

The sky was very blue, and cloudless.

In it, being exercised, were several tarns.

The river, broad and apparently navigable, lay some pasang or so in the distance.

“That is the Alexandra,” I said.

“Yes,” said Tajima.

Its width could not begin to approximate that of the Vosk, in much of Vosk’s length, but it was wide, wide enough, some hundred yards or so in width.

“It is very beautiful,” said Cecily.

She, I fear, had not yet accustomed herself to the beauties of a natural world, but still thought in terms of another world, a grayer world, a more tragic world, a world in which, incredibly, pollutants and poisons were routinely discharged into the atmosphere, into the very air its creatures, large and small, innocent and guilty alike, must breathe. But it was true, I supposed, the vista was indeed beautiful.

“Quarters have been prepared for you, near the shore, near the cots,” said Tajima.

Orders were being given, behind us, by various wagon masters, and drovers, Pani, mercenaries, and all, began to withdraw to the wagons. In a few Ehn the tharlarion would again grunt and bellow, and the wagons would again trundle forward, and now downward.

“What is that large building, that structure near the shore?” I asked.

It seemed large enough to house an insula. It must have been seven or eight stories high.

“Beyond that,” said Tajima, “though you cannot see them, are several galleys.”

“But what is the large structure?” I asked.

“You do not know?” inquired Tajima.

“No,” I said.

“That,” said Tajima, “is the ship of Tersites.”