The Captain

CHAPTER 31

Flora walked unsteadily down the hall, almost unable to keep her balance.

She was not with a guard, and on a leash, as a slave is often taken to the room of a guest, whom she is to serve. Rather she had just been told the room, and sent on her way.

Bitter tears ran down her cheeks.

How joyous she had been, but moments before.

“I have a surprise for you,” had said Julian, of the Aurelianii, to his friend. “Behold! I have had her brought from Varna, and boarded, and trained, to some extent, on the summer world, and thence brought to Vellmer, now a more knowledgeable slave.”

She had thought, for a moment, when she had entered, as the eyes of the barbarian giant had first looked upon her, that there had been recognition, and elation, on that often fierce countenance which she had hoped to soften with kindness, or at least with some tiny bit of consideration or regard for her, but, almost instantly, his visage, as though he had forced himself to recollect what despicable thing it was that hurried to kneel before him, the fragile, delicate slave flower in its hands, became cold and hard, cold like the wintry sheathing of dark rivers, deeply flowing, hard like stone in the month of Igon.

She had knelt, her emotions in tumult, stirred, a chaos of joy, confusion, and pain. It was he who had been her master on Varna, and now, it seemed, still was, for it was before him that she had been signaled to kneel. She remembered him even from Terennia, and the first time he had looked upon her, a look that had stripped away her dark, judicial robes, and all she wore, and had been, revealing the naked, vulnerable slave beneath. She had seized the railing behind which she stood, that she might not fall. She had fought in herself the instantaneous, almost overwhelming desire to hurry to him, to kneel and perform obeisance. How startled she had been with these feelings, how furious with herself!

Let her mother, the judge, proceed with the prosecution of the fellow!

But he had survived in the arena, and had later obtained his freedom.

Through a complex set of circumstances she, who had been an officer of the very court which had condemned him to the arena, her mother the very judge who had pronounced the sentence, had become his slave.

She dared not meet his eyes, so fierce they were upon her.

On the ill-fated Alaria, kneeling at his feet in the darkness, not even knowing it was he, she had become, technically, and legally, a slave. But he, at that time, had unaccountably treated her well and not enforced her bondage. Indeed, in a vital matter, pertaining to his plan to escape the Alaria, he had trusted her word, that she would remain silent, on this word refusing to subject her to the efficient indignities of the gag. But she had broken this word, betraying him and his party, calling out, alerting enemies. Shortly thereafter they had become separated, but each, in their own way, in different capsules, had managed to escape the Alaria. She had later, on Varna, come again into this possession. This time he had not seen fit to show her indulgence but had had her branded and tagged. She now wore on her thigh a mark in virtue of which there would be no mistaking what she was, a mark which would be recognized throughout galaxies.

“I thought you would be pleased,” said Julian.

“She is a faithless, treacherous, lying slave,” said Otto.

“Please, no, Master,” she had whispered.

“She is well curved,” said Julian.

“So are millions on thousands of worlds,” said Otto.

“I love you, Master. I want to serve you,” she whispered.

“Surely she is exquisite,” said Julian.

“As are innumerable others, all for one price or another,” said Otto.

“She bears the slave flower, to offer it to you,” said Julian.

“She is a collared slut,” said Otto. “She will offer it to whomsoever her master decides.”

“I think she would offer it to you,” said Julian.

“She is worthless,” said Otto.

“She might bring a decent price in a market,” said Julian.

“Perhaps,” said Otto.

There was little doubt as to this.

The slave’s handlers, who had prepared her for presentation to her master, had left little of her beauty to the imagination. Her breasts strained against the mockery of a skimpy bandeau of scarlet silk. A narrow, black, cloth cord was put twice, snugly, about her waist, and knotted, with a slip knot, at the left hip. This cord supported two narrow rectangles of scarlet silk. It also supplied a means whereby, if it were removed, she might be bound. Such features are not unusual in slave garments. A common variation on such a theme is a leather thong wound several times about the left ankle, and tied there. Is it an attractive decoration? Certainly, but it may also serve, with similar decorative appeal, as a bond. Her dark hair was bound back with a scarlet ribbon. On her neck there was a close-fitting, steel slave collar.

“Is your name ‘Flora’?” asked Julian, kindly.

“In the house they call me that, Master,” said the slave.

“Is it your name?” asked Julian.

“My name,” she said, “or even if I am permitted a name, is up to my master.”

She looked at Otto.

But he turned away from her.

“Look upon her, my friend,” urged Julian.

“Thank you, my friend,” said Otto, “for having seen to it that she has received some training. That will doubtless improve her price.”

“Have you not been permitted in this room,” asked Julian of the slave, “to offer the slave flower to your master?”

“Yes, Master,” she said, gratefully.

“Look upon her,” urged Julian.

Otto turned in the chair to regard the slave kneeling before him.

There were tears in her eyes.

“Please, Master,” she said, lifting the flower delicately, timidly, to Otto, “accept my slave flower.”

“It is worth less than that of a pig or dog,” snarled Otto.

She put her head down. “It is true that I am only a slave, Master,” she said.

“Keep it well in mind,” said Otto.

“Yes, Master,” she sobbed.

Julian lifted his hand to summon a guard, who would conduct the slave back to her quarters.

“Wait!” said Otto, suddenly, menacingly.

The slave looked up, frightened. Julian turned to him, puzzled. The guard hesitated to approach.

“There is now one in the house who should be well known to you,” said Otto.

“Master?” she asked.

“Do you remember the Alaria,” he asked, “and the supper at the captain’s table, with Pulendius, and others?”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“And surely you remember the purpose of your journey on the Alaria?”

“Of course, Master,” she said uneasily. It had been to take her to Miton, where she was to be wedded. The marriage had been arranged with great attention to detail. Genealogies had been checked, credentials and records had been examined, biographies had been scrutinized, and the earnings, and likely future earnings, of the prospective groom had been calculated with care. The marriage had been arranged largely through the offices of the girl’s mother and her friend, the mayor, of the small city on Terennia, which was, for the district, a juristic center. Both the girl’s mother and the mayor hoped, too, to profit significantly from so favorable an alliance, soon following the girl to the first provincial quadrant, and perhaps even, later, the first imperial quadrant. Pictorials had been exchanged. The prospective groom was, of course, a same, as was the prospective bride, a matter which was of great consequence to the mother and her friend, the mayor. That was almost as important as the prospective groom’s position and income. With respect to the latter, he was, at the time, a level-four civil servant in the financial division of the first provincial quadrant. The marriage was calculatedly favorable, too, on the count of genealogy, as the prospective groom was of the 103rd degree of the Ausonii, and the bride of the 105th degree of the Auresii. The prospective bride’s name was Tribonius Auresius, and the prospective groom’s name was Tuvo Ausonius. The marriage did not take place, of course, as the Alaria, as it may be recalled, failed to enter orbit at Miton, having perhaps encountered some mishap en route.

“Two sames are currently under arrest in this house,” said Otto. “Perhaps rumors of this have reached you.”

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“But, too, we may regard them as guests,” said Otto.

“Master?” she asked.

“One is a female, whose name, as related, is simply ‘Sesella’,” said Otto.

“Yes, Master,” said the slave.

“The other is a male, whose name is Tuvo Ausonius,” said Otto.

“Tuvo Ausonius!” cried the slave.

“I see the name is meaningful to you,” said Otto.

“You remember something of this matter, too, do you not?” Otto inquired of Julian.

“Yes,” said Julian. “I do.”

“I was to wed him!” cried the slave. “He was my fiancé. I was his betrothed!”

“You were a free woman,” said Otto.

“Certainly, Master,” said the slave.

“What are you now?” asked Otto.

“A slave,” she said.

“And do you not think it is fitting that a guest be shown hospitality in a house?”

“Oh, no, no, Master!” she cried. “Please, no, Master!”

“Oh?” asked Otto.

“I hate him!” she cried. “It was an arranged marriage! I wanted nothing of it! It was the doing of my mother and another! I hated him! I despised him! I intended to make his life miserable, even to ruin him!”

“Surely you do not think that he is interested in wedding you now, do you?” asked Otto.

“No, Master,” she said, “for I am now a slave, no more than an animal.”

Otto regarded her.

“No, no, Master!” she cried.

“What is the room of Tuvo Ausonius?” asked Otto of Julian.

He was told.

“How is it reached?” asked Otto.

He was informed.

“You have heard?” asked Otto.

“Yes, Master,” said the slave, dismayed.

“You are sent to him,” said Otto. “And take with you the slave flower. It is to be offered to Tuvo Ausonius.”

“No, no!” she wept.

“Go,” said Otto.

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

***

Flora walked unsteadily down the hall, almost unable to keep her balance.

She was not with a guard, and on a leash, as a slave is often taken to the room of a guest, whom she is to serve. Rather she had just been told the room, and sent on her way.

Bitter tears ran down her cheeks.

She stopped, to put one hand against a wall, to steady herself.

She feared she might fall.

She saw a guard before one door, and she counted the doors to that door. No, that was not the door. There were two sames under arrest in the house. That must be the room in which the other same, the woman was. Neither, she understood, was below, secured in cells. The guard was watching her approach. She feared she was not walking well. He must, of course, over the years, have seen thousands of slaves. She had heard the guards refer to her as “a pretty one.” She was confident she would bring a better price than many, though, of course, not so good a price as many others. He was watching her approach. She tried to walk well. She did not wish to risk being struck. She had, of course, in her bondage, grown accustomed to men looking at her, watching her, considering her, speculating openly on what it might be to own her, to have her, theirs, in their arms.

When she reached the guard, before passing him, she would kneel, and bow her head.

She did so.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Lift your head. Straighten your back. Do not rise,” he said.

He walked about her.

Then, again before her, he looked at her, in detail.

It pleased her to kneel before men.

“You carry the slave flower,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“You may continue on your way,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

She looked at the door he guarded. Behind it was one of the sames in custody, the woman.

In a moment she had rounded a corner and was no longer in sight of the guard.

I hate Tuvo Ausonius, she thought. Rather would I be thrown to guards, to be put to the tiles, to serve for fear of my very life, each to tear a petal from the slave flower, than to be touched by one such as Tuvo Ausonius.

But then she thought, suddenly, wildly, that she might master Tuvo Ausonius, manipulate him, govern him, overcome him with misery and guilt. Was he not a same? Might she not take advantage of that complex, subtle, pervasive conditioning program used on the “same” planets to deprive men of their manhood, that program so gradually instituted and promulgated, bit by bit, rule by rule, law by law, that many did not even realize it existed, that program designed not so much to challenge healthy, natural modalities of human existence as to preclude its victims from even understanding that they existed? Yes, she thought wildly to herself, there is nothing to fear. He is already demeaned, degraded, and debased, and conquered. I need not fear him. His entire world has prepared him for defeat. There is no doubt that I will be victorious!

She looked wildly about. No guard was in this corridor. There were various rooms. They would be, presumably, mostly empty, mostly unlocked. In some there must be wardrobes, or chests, containing garments. Surely guests must come to this holding upon occasion. Some must surely be free women, perhaps sisters, or relatives, of one degree or another, of the master of the house! Or perhaps there might be garments of sufficient opacity and modesty as to be mistaken for, or which would serve as, the garments of a free woman. If slaves were to serve at suppers at which free women were present, they might well be attired decorously. Surely, at such suppers, they would not serve naked, save for their collars. There must be something, somewhere!

It was in the third room that she found a chest which contained suitable robes, white, even sleeved. Too, there were hose, and even shoes, small, soft, colored, delicately embroidered. Too, there were scarves which might encircle her throat, useful in concealing a steel collar.

She thrust the slave flower in her belt, that formed from the twice-turned black cloth cord.

She then turned her attention to the chest.

It was seemingly a different woman who emerged from the room, after first carefully looking to the left and right.

Doubtless there would be a guard at the door, but the door was about the next corner, across the structure, its room well separated from that of the other same, doubtless that there might be no communication between them.

She did not think the guard would take her for a free woman. Indeed, it was altogether probably that he would recognize her. Thus, in greeting him, she must kneel. She trusted that Tuvo Ausonius would not know she had done so.

The guard, when she turned the comer of the corridor, looked up, and leapt to his feet, from the chair, having mistaken her, naturally enough, under the circumstances, for a free woman. Then, as she approached, he regarded her closely. She knelt down a few feet from him, primarily because she feared to prolong his doubt as to her status, which might irritate him, but also because she wanted to be further from the door. She lowered her head.

He stepped to her.

“Flora,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“I prefer slave garb on a slave,” he said. “It is more fitting.”

“If we are permitted clothing,” she said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I am sent to the prisoner,” she said.

“Never have I seen a slave so clad sent to a prisoner,” he smiled.

She said nothing.

“But then he is a same,” said the guard.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

She went to the door, while the guard resumed his post, the chair a few feet from the door.

At the door she trembled, just for a moment, for she was a slave, of course, truly, and her charade had not been commanded by her master. Indeed, it had been undertaken without his knowledge. Her hand shook, and she thought, for a moment, to knock softly, even timidly, at the door, as befitted a helpless, vulnerable slave who had been sent to a guest, to be as though his until morning. But then, suddenly, angry with the thought of Tuvo Ausonius, and contemptuous of him, she struck the door clearly, decisively.

In a moment the door was opened.

She was taken aback a bit, for he who opened the door was not precisely what she had expected to find. Oh, it was Tuvo Ausonius all right, or bore at least some resemblance to him. That could be told from the pictorials. But those had displayed something seemingly inhibited, deceitful, venal, petulant, sullen, hypocritical, weak. The fellow who had opened the door was not only considerably larger than herself, and above average height for a male of the empire, but, more importantly, carried himself, and seemed such, as one would not expect of a same. She feared for an instant that he might not be a same, but a man, one of those creatures in the presence of which a woman could be only a woman. But, reassuringly, he wore same garb. She wished, suddenly, that she had been able to avail herself of same garb, but none, not surprisingly, had been in the rooms she had investigated.

“Tuvo Ausonius?” she brought herself to ask.

“Yes,” he said.

He looked beyond her.

Had he expected another? Had he hoped for another? This angered her.

“May I come in?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

She thrust past him, and closed the door, firmly, behind her. She noted, to her satisfaction, that the door was thick. She did not think that, given the thickness of the portal, for those of the empire’s upper classes tend to be fond of their privacy, and the position of the guard, down the hall, they would be likely to be overheard. Tuvo Ausonius seemed surprised that she had closed the door herself.

In the center of the room she turned to face him.

“What is wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Perhaps you hoped for a different visitor?” she said.

“‘Visitor’?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Do you not recognize me?” she asked.

“For what purpose have you come?” he asked.

“I am a free woman!” she said.

“I see,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“Surely you recognize me?” she asked.

“I am sorry,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I do not. Should I?”

“I am the free woman, Tribonius Auresius!” she announced.

“I do not think so,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “You are too pretty.”

“‘Pretty’?” she cried. “Shame, shame!”

“You are a same?” he asked.

“Certainly!” she said. “And you, too, are a same!”

“You are not dressed as a same,” he said.

“That is not important,” she said.

“Tribonius Auresius,” he said, “was aboard the Alaria. It never reached Miton.”

“Nonetheless, I am she!” she said.

“The Alaria,” he said, “I have heard it recently rumored, fell to a barbarian fleet. Distress calls supposedly made that clear. Debris was also supposedly indicative. If there were any pretty prisoners taken, they were doubtless made slaves.”

“Shame!” she cried. “You cannot even begin to think of a woman in such terms, even hypothetically, even in the wildest stretches of your imagination! You are a same! Such a horrifying, terrifying fate for a woman could not even occur to you!”

“I doubt that you are Tribonius Auresius,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“You are not she,” he said. “You are far more desirable, far more exciting and beautiful than she.”

“Watch your language!” she cried. “But you saw the pictorials!”

“They were of a rather plain, snobbish little slut,” he said, “but one who, perhaps, had some promise.”

“Wicked man!” she cried.

“You escaped the Alaria?” he asked.

“Yes!” she said.

“And kept your freedom?”

“Yes!” she said.

“And still retain it?”

“Of course,” she said.

“What is the name of the mother of Tribonius Auresius?” he asked.

He was told. It was “Cualella.”

He then asked a number of complex questions, pertaining to various matters, matters the answers to which would be likely to be known only to themselves.

“I am Tribonius Auresius!” said she, at the conclusion of this inquiry.

“Your identity is established beyond doubt,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“And what would be the purpose of attempting to deceive you with respect to such a matter?” she asked.

“I can conceive of no such purpose,” he said. “But I am not clear as to what you are doing here, here in this house, here in this room.”

“Surely you are overjoyed to see me,” she said, “your fiancée, your betrothed.”

“Doubtless,” he said.

“I was traveling in these mountains,” she said, “and sought, and was granted, hospitality, and subsequently, in pleasant converse, our relationship emerged. At that time I did not know you were here. Our host, in his graciousness, has permitted me to visit you.”

“That is surely exceedingly kind on his part,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“Though not a same, he is a gentleman,” she said.

“Perhaps we might avail ourselves of this opportunity to renew our relationship.”

“As sames?” she said.

“What could be more appropriate?” he asked.

“True,” she said.

“I must admit,” he said, “I was somewhat put off by the somewhat calculating and mercenary nature of the arrangements connected with our prospective relationship.”

“One cannot be too careful,” she said, “when patricians are involved.”

“I was not overly pleased,” he said, “that you were only of the 105th degree of the Auresii.”

“Surely the 105th degree of the Auresii is comparable to, or superior to, that of the 103rd degree of the Ausonii,” she said.

“Scarcely,” he said.

She reddened, angrily.

“It is true,” he said.

“Perhaps,” she said.

“I gathered,” he said, “that you had certain anticipations of the nature of our relationship, and desired to impose certain conditions upon it.”

“Of course,” she said.

“Absolute superiority of the woman?” he asked.

“At the very least,” she said. “It must be remembered that, even though we are both sames, that we women must protect ourselves, as we are smaller and weaker than you.”

“A husband has no rights which he may enforce?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

“Not unless we permit it,” she said.

“Everything is up to the woman,” he said.

“Of course,” she said.

“It is all on your own terms,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“What of nature?” he asked.

“We have improved on nature,” she said.

“I wonder,” he said.

“As a same, you are not permitted to wonder about such things,” she said. “It is forbidden to wonder about them.”

“But what if they are absurd?” he asked.

“It is forbidden to ask such questions,” she said. “Remember that you are a same!”

“Perhaps you would now like me to kneel before you, and beg your hand in marriage,” he said.

“Certainly, if you wish,” she said.

“That would be entirely appropriate?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she said.

“I was not truly eager for the marriage,” he said.

“What?” she said.

“But I thought it might be construed as a portion of my duty to the empire,” he said.

“Your duty!” she cried.

“Yes,” he said.

“Well, I was not eager for it either!” she said.

“Why then did you agree to the matter?” he asked.

“These things were arranged by my mother and another,” she said.

“Why did you agree to them?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

She regarded him, angrily.

“Why?”

“It was to my advantage!” she said.

“You are a mercenary little thing,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“I hate you!” she said. “Even on the Alaria I hated you.”

“It seems your feelings were somewhat ambivalent, ranging between disgust and greed,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“I despised you.”

“And do you think I would have held you in high esteem, one only of the Auresii?”

“Knave!” she said.

“What sort of relationship would we have had?” he asked.

“It would have been on my terms,” she said. “I assure you of that!”

“You do hate me, don’t you?” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Why?” he asked.

“You are a weakling!” she said.

“And doubtless you would punish me for that?”

“Yes,” she said, “I would have made you suffer! I was even considering ruining you!”

“Would you not then have ruined yourself, as well?”

“No!” she said. “I could have taken what I could from you, and then contracted other marriages.”

“You are materialistic, indeed,” he said.

She looked at him, in fury.

“Therefore, what has happened to you is surely not inappropriate.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly.

“Do you wish to discuss our possible marriage further?” he asked.

“If you wish,” she said, uncertainly.

“You are a free woman,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“And you would consider proposing yourself as a marital partner to a free man?”

“Certainly,” she said.

“Even to me,” he said.

“Possibly,” she said.

“Do you know the penalties for a slave girl who lies?” he asked.

“How could I know such things?” she whispered.

“I thought you might have heard,” he said.

“She would be severely punished,” she said.

“That is my understanding, as well,” he said.

“Such things are of no interest to me,” she said.

“I thought they might be.”

“No,” she said.

“You are Tribonius Auresius, of Terennia, where you are an officer of a court?”

“Yes!” she said.

“You are Tribonius Auresius, a free woman, one of the honestori, even of the patricians?”

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“Normally,” he said, “one might expect those of the patricians to wear some token of their blood, a purple ribbon, even a thread somewhere. Have you such a token?”

“I did not so garb myself,” she said.

“Even though traveling?”

“No,” she said. “Do you have such a token about you?”

“I normally do not wear the color,” he said. “I find it does not fit well with same garb, and that it sometimes tends to evoke resentment or envy.”

“The lower orders are subject to such faults,” she said.

“‘The lower orders’?”

“Yes.”

“I admire your ensemble,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said.

“They are clearly the garments of a free woman.”

“Of course,” she said.

“As I understand it, a slave girl who dares to don such garments without the authorization of the master may be severely punished, even slain.”

She turned white.

“To be sure, sometimes a master will order his slave to wear such garments, perhaps because, for some reason, he wishes to keep her true status a secret.”

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, yes,” she said.

“You are trembling,” he said.

“I think that I will be leaving now,” she said.

“You will remain,” he said.

“Please, Person Ausonius!” she said.

“It is fortunate that you are not a slave girl,” he said, “for a slave girl’s addressing a free person by his name in that manner can be cause for severe discipline.”

“Do not forget that you are a same!” she said.

“You are a free woman, are you not, even of the patricians?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes!”

“Your shoes are pretty,” he said, “Remove them.”

She looked at him, agonized, but she dared not disobey such a direct order, as she was a slave.

“Very well,” she said.

“No,” he said, “not there, there.”

She rose from the bed, on which she had sat, and sat on the floor, beside the bed.

“Now the hose,” he said.

He watched. Her legs were shapely.

“Now rise,” he said. “Come here.”

She stood small, trembling, before him.

He put his hands to the scarf, at her throat. He very gently unwrapped it, revealing the slave collar.

“Master!” she moaned, falling to her knees.

“Do you really think I cannot tell a slave, when I see one?” he asked. “How she moves, the nature of her body, little things, of which she is not even aware.”

“You are a same!” she wept, looking up at him.

“No,” he said. “In my arms I have held a slave. I can no longer be a same. I have tasted slave meat.”

“Forgive me, Master!” she wept.

“Do you think I do not know why a slave is sent to a man’s room?” he asked.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

“So,” said he, looking down upon her, “this is what has become of my former betrothed, my former fiancée, the proud, mercenary, materialistic little snip, Tribonius Auresius.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, fearfully.

“The collar looks well on you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I do not truly have a name,” she said. “In this house I am called ‘Flora’.”

“An excellent name for a slave,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“It will do,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said.

“Surely your master did not tell you to appear before me in the garments of a free woman.”

“No, Master,” she said.

“Remove them,” he said.

She hastened to rid herself of the garments of the free woman, and then there knelt before him the same slave who, earlier, had knelt before her master, she in the narrow bandeau, she of the black, twice-turned cloth cord, the bits of silk. She even, with acute self-consciousness, realizing how this must accentuate the beauty of her figure, in misery, replaced the scarlet hair ribbon.

“Aii,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“But what is that flower in your belt?” he asked.

“The slave flower,” she said, “which I have been ordered to offer to you.”

“Your master thinks so little of you?” he asked.

“Yes, Master!” she wept.

“Place the flower on the foot of the bed,” he said. “Remove your garments completely. Remain kneeling.”

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

“In the corner of the room, there,” he said, pointing, “there is a slave whip. Crawl to it, on all fours, and fetch it, bring it back to me in your teeth.”

The slave complied.

He took the whip from her and put it on the bed, by the flower.

“Lift your wrists, crossed,” he said.

In a moment her wrists were lashed together. He then tied them to the ring at the foot of the bed, a common feature in many bedrooms in the empire.

She then knelt at the foot of the bed, her wrists tied before her, to the ring.

“You thought to make a fool of me,” he said. “I do not care for that.”

He picked up the whip, and shook out the blades.

“I am of the Auresii!” she said.

“Are you?” he asked.

“No, no!” she said. “I am only a slave girl!”

“You came to this room under false pretenses,” he said. “You dared to garb yourself without authorization in the garments of a free woman. You pretended to be free, to be the free woman, Tribonius Auresius, once my fiancée. Your speech was insolent. Many were the lies that passed your deceitful lips. By recourse to insidious psychological devices you attempted to bend me to your will. Though an animal you dared to speak of marriage. You addressed me by my name, soiling it, by putting it on the lips of a slave.”

“Mercy!” she begged.

“There are many counts against you, Flora,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master!” she begged.

“What I do not understand,” he said, “is why you did these things.”

“From what I knew of you, Master,” she wept, “I loathed you. The thought of you disgusted me. My very skin crawled at the thought of your touch.”

“Because you thought me a same, a weakling?”

“Yes!” she said.

“Do you think such things are true?” he asked.

“No, Master,” she said. “I see they are not.”

“But even if they had been true,” he asked, “would they have excused your conduct?”

“No, Master!” she said.

“Is it up to the slave girl whom she will content and serve?” he asked.

“No, Master!” she said.

“It depends on whom?” he asked.

“On the master!” she said.

“Are the feelings of the slave girl of any account?” he asked.

“No, Master!” she said.

“You know these things?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

“And yet you did what you did,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

His eye looked to the slave flower, on the foot of the bed. She followed his eye.

“Punish me,” she said. “I am yours to do with as you will.”

“Do you care for your master?” he asked.

“I love him,” she said.

“A slave can love?” he asked.

“No woman who is not a slave can know what love truly is,” she said.

“I have heard that love makes a slave of a woman,” he said.

“That is why such feelings are forbidden to sames,” she said, “that women not be weakened, not be placed in such chains, not be so enslaved.”

“And yet,” she said, “it is only in such bondage that they are truly themselves, and truly free.”

“Interesting,” he said.

“And think how much more so is this the case when the woman is truly slave, legally, and in all respects.”

“Surely you fear the labors, the terrors, of slavery,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” she said. “For we cannot choose our masters, and are owned, and must serve, unquestioningly. Yet, too, in such a condition, for all its miseries and terrors, we know ourselves the most needful and open to love, the most sexual, the most free, the most ourselves.”

He put aside the ship, and bent down, freeing her wrists.

“You may offer me the slave flower,” he said.

Timidly, confused, she took the flower from the bed, and, kneeling before him, with two hands, lifted it to him.

“I offer you my slave flower, Master,” she said.

“Stand,” he said, “turn about, cross your wrists behind your back.”

Startled, the slave did as she was told.

She felt her hands tied together, not gently, but rudely, tightly, behind her back. One hand still clung to the slave flower. She was tied in such a way that her hands were fastened rather at the center of the black, cloth cord, the ends of which were then brought together before her belly, and tied there, this holding her hands rather at the small of her back.

“Master?” she said.

“You have complied with the orders of your master,” he said. “You have come to my room, and have offered me the slave flower.”

“Master?”

“Perhaps you will come again, sometimes, to the room,” he said, “and will serve me, and I will see to it that you do it well, indeed, with perfection, but now, now I think I will spare you for your master.”

“I do not understand,” she said.

“I do not accept the flower,” he said. “I reject you. I am sending you back to your master.”

“Am I not of interest?” she asked.

“Vixen,” said he, “I am hastening you from the room before I cannot help myself, but throw you to the slave ring.”

“Master!” she cried, joyfully.

“Once, too,” he said, “you were of the honestori, of the empire, and a patrician.”

“But not now!” she said.

“No, not now,” he smiled.

He took the flower from her and thrust it in the cord at her waist. He put the bandeau, the bits of silk, and the ribbon, too, beneath the cord, but at the left hip.

He went to the door and opened it.

She regarded him, wonderingly, gratefully.

“Get out!” he said, hoarsely.

“Master!” she cried.

“Is it necessary to whip you from the room?” he inquired.

“No, Master!” she said.

At the door she stopped, momentarily, and lifted her lips to his cheek, and kissed it, lightly.

“Thank you, Master,” she said.

“Now, shapely slave girl,” he said, “get out!”

“Yes, Master!” she said.

“Oh!” she cried, sped forth into the hall, stung by a slap below the small of the back.

The guard looked up, from his chair, and then rose to his feet.

“She is rejected,” said Tuvo Ausonius to the guard.

“Do you want another?” asked the guard.

“There is one I would like,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

“Who is she?” asked the guard.

“It is not important,” said Tuvo Ausonius, and retired within the room, and shut the door.

Flora hurried past the guard, to return to the lower floor.