Vagabonds of Gor

36 The Walls of Brundisium

"There," I said, "look there."

"Yes," said Marcus.

"Those," I said to Ina, "are the walls of Brundisium."

"I did not know it was so large a city," she said.

"It is one of the major coastal ports south of the delta," I said.

"See the many tents about the walls, to the north," said Marcus.

"Probably mostly those of the Cosians' expeditionary force in the north," I said, "that with which we traveled, south of the Vosk. They may be releasing fellows, or reassigning them. Brundisium is not to be blamed for not being able, or willing, to quarter so many within her walls."

"No," said Marcus.

We were dressed much as might be impoverished itinerants, in clothes we had picked up, here and there, in traveling southwest from the delta. Our share of coins from the brigands had facilitated these acquisitions. Marcus had given the Cosian uniform to one of the fellows in the hut. Some of the others took clothing from the brigands, which we had removed from them. Some other things, too, were in the hut. Many of our former group, however, had begun their journey, at least, in the uniforms of Ar. By now, hopefully, several of them had reached safety.

Marcus and I, with Ina, had made our way to Brundisium. There were three major reasons for coming to Brundisium. It lay in the direction which would probably be the least dangerous for us, given our desire to escape from the vicinity of the delta. Surely it would be an unexpected route for fugitives from the delta. To be sure, we must keep Marcus relatively quiet, for his accent, that of Ar's Station, would surely suggest that of Ar to folks who were alert to such things. That Ina, on the other hand, had such an accent would not be likely to attract undue attention, as she was a female, and clearly in our keeping. The folks in this area would, by now, given the fall of Ar's Station, and the general success of Cos on the continent, be familiar with such accents in females. To be sure, most of the females encountered with such accents in this area would be likely to be in collars, already serving masters, or perhaps in transit, say, chained in slave wagons or being marched nude in coffles, or in temporary holding areas, on chains or in slave cages or slave pens, awaiting their sale or alternative disposition, such things. Secondly, one might then, presumably with relative safety, take a roundabout route to territories allied with or friendly to Ar, perhaps even going by way of Corcyrus or Argentum. Thirdly, and principally, I hoped to find my friend, Ephialtes, the sutler, in, or near, Brundisium, for he had been traveling with the expeditionary force. I wished to contact him for various reasons, among them the fact that he should be holding certain funds for me. After I had assured myself of the relative safety of Marcus and Ina, of course, it was my intention to venture to Torcadino, where I hoped to be able to convey intelligence of the affairs in the north to Dietrich of Tarnburg.

"It is beautiful!" said Ina.

"It is a lovely city, in a lovely setting," I said. One could see the harbor and, of course, beyond, gleaming Thassa, the sea.

I looked down at Ina.

She wore a sleeveless, calf-length brown dress, woven of the wool of the bounding hurt. This was, in spite of the lack of sleeves, clearly the garment of a free woman. That could be told by such things as its quality, length, sturdiness and opacity. It did not, for example, as might have rep cloth, a light, clinging fabric often used for slave garments, make obvious the lineaments of its occupant's figure. But, too, it was surely the sort of garment that would be likely to be worn only by a woman of the lower castes. It was a simple, plain, everyday work garment. I did, in spite of such features as its sturdiness and opacity, find it attractive on her. It was, of course, save sandals, all she wore.

"I cannot wear this!" she had cried, looking at it, shaking it out, when I had thrown it to her.

"Why not?" I had asked, genuinely puzzled. She was, at that time, in a belly cord and slave strips.

"Impossible!" she said.

"It is the garment of a free woman," I had said.

"It is a lower-caste garment!" she said. "I am of high caste!" Ina was, I had learned, of the Builders, one of the five high castes on Gor, the others being the Initiates, Physicians, Scribes and Warriors.

"I do not understand," I said. "You are delighted to be placed in slave strips, to be thigh-stripped and bare-breasted, and you would not mind, I gather, being inserted into a scandalous ta-teera, a revealing camisk or a brief, stunning slave tunic, such things, and you object to an almost full-length, modest garment of this sort."

"Certainly," she said.

"I do not understand," I said.

"These things are much different," she said.

"How?" I asked.

"As a free captive," she said, "it is appropriate that I wear slave strips or, say, a ta-teera. Thus might my captor amuse and delight himself, and shame and reveal me, and people might look upon me and say, 'What a beautiful, exposed captive! Perhaps she was of high caste, and now look at her. She is now in, say, a ta-teera, or if I were a slave it would quite appropriate for me, too, to wear such things, and I would delight in them, that even so much was granted me, and I, a lowly slave, would not dare to aspire to more!"

"Yes?" I said.

"But as a free woman of high caste," she exclaimed, "to be put in the garment of a free woman of low caste is unthinkable!"

"I see your point," I said.

She flung the garment angrily down.

"What are you doing?" she asked, apprehensively.

"I am removing my belt," I said.

"For what purpose?" she asked.

"You are going to be lashed as you never believed a woman could be lashed," I said.

She sank to her knees. "No," she said, "please."

"Then pick up the garment in your teeth," I said, "and bring it to me, on all fours."

Frightened, she did so.

"Put it here," I said, indicating a place before me.

She did so.

"You may now beg to wear it," I said, doubling my belt.

"I shall of course wear it, if it is my captor's will," she said.

I slapped the belt into my palm, hard.

"I beg to wear the garment!" she said. "I beg it!"

"Put it on," I said.

Swiftly she did so, pulling it over her head, not even rising from her knees.

"Stand," I said.

She did so, frightened, but, with a delightful, typically feminine gesture, adjusted and smoothed down the garment. I have seen slave girls do that even with tiny slave tunics.

"It is not unattractive on you," I said.

"Oh?" she asked, pleased.

"No," I said. "But I suppose it might be more so if it came considerably higher on your thighs."

"Slave short?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, "and perhaps if it had a plunging neckline, one slashed perhaps to your belly."

"And if it were perhaps accented, at the throat, with a close-fitting, steel collar?" she asked.

"Perhaps," I smiled.

"Let me alter it!" she said.

"You will wear as it is, unless ordered to do otherwise," I said.

"Of course, my captor," she said.

"Kneel," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said.

"Kiss my feet," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said.

"Look up," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said. "Whose are you?" I asked.

"Yours, my captor," she said. "Totally?"

"Yes, my captor," she said.

"Do not forget it," I said.

"No, my captor," she said.

I had then turned away from her.

"Will we enter the city?" asked Ina, eagerly.

"I have not decided," I said. "My main objective is to locate my friend, Ephialtes, and I think his wagon, and his goods, would be at the periphery of the encampment." Most of the sutlers' wagons would be in such a location, at least generally. They are sometimes allowed in the camps, during certain Ahn, to deliver or sell goods.

"There is also, I believe, outside Brundisium, a large slave camp," said Marcus.

"I think so," I said. The camp referred to by Marcus had, as I understood it, been in existence near Brundisium for several months, which is a long period for such camps. This had to do, presumably, with the war, and the large numbers of females taken in its prosecution, some thousands from Ar's Station, and its vicinity, alone. Most of the dealers in such camps are wholesalers, looking for cheap buys on excellent females, often bidding on them in lots. The lots are sometimes of mixed value, some including women who are little more than free women, their slave fires not yet ignited, and others which may be captured, needful slaves. One may have to buy ten women to get the two or three one really wants. To be sure, it is likely that all the women, in time, with training, and such, will become superb. All of them, after all, were seen fit to be put in the ropes of masters. It was natural that such a camp would be located at Brundisium. From Brundisium, a major port friendly to Cog, indeed, the port of entry for the Cosian invasion forces, it was convenient to ship loot, females and other loot, to Cos and the islands. I did not doubt that already hundreds of women had passed through the camp, mostly, I supposed, to be shipped or herded to the docks of Brundisium, to be placed on slave ships, chained, their heads and bodies shaved, to be shipped to various destinations. Also, of course, from the camp they could be transported to hundreds of destinations on the continent, for example, Market of Semris, Samnium, Besnit, Harfax, Ko-ro-ba, and elsewhere. Such camps tend not to be placed within the walls of cities. In this fashion, they have more land, obtain cheaper rentals, avoid certain local taxes, and so on. Free women, also, I have heard, object to such camps within the walls, supposedly because of the smells. I frankly doubt that this is the real reason. I think it is rather that they hate female slaves, and are almost insanely jealous of them. Certainly it is understandable that they might not wish to have large numbers of them about, the sight of whom is so exciting to males. The males, of course, may go to the camps, to look at the "stock." And with respect to smells, I do not think the free women, either, would smell as well as they might, if, say, they were kept on straw, chained naked in slave cages.

"Let us proceed," I said. Ina caught her breath.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"I was suddenly frightened," she said.

"Do you wish to be leashed?" I asked. "No," she said.

"Heel," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said.

I turned to regard her. She would follow me, behind and on the left. In this way the sword arm is not likely to be encumbered.

"Captor?" she asked, looking down.

I was looking at her feet. Her feet were small, her ankles lovely. She was now in sandals, as befitted a free woman. Such, of course, could be removed from her. Slaves, for example, are commonly kept barefoot. High slaves, on the other hand, often have sandals, sometimes lovely ones. To be sure, much depends on the terrain, and such. One would not wish even a common slave to cut her feet or roughen them. That slaves are often barefoot says much, incidentally, for the cleanliness of Gorean streets and the usual paucity of litter. Goreans tend to keep their streets very well. The streets are, after all, the streets of their city, and their city is, after all, the place of their Home Stone.

"Captor?" she asked.

"You have lovely ankles," I said.

"Thank you," she said.

"They would look well, as I have hitherto observed," I said, "in shackles."

"Thank you, my captor," she said.

"Do you not think so?" I asked Marcus.

"Yes," he said, "but I, myself, prefer the ankles of slimmer, dark-haired women."

I recalled Port Cos, and the girl, Yakube, whom we had met on the docks there. I had been afraid Marcus, thinking her of Cos, and hating Cos and all things Cosian, would have cut her throat or injured her, but, fortunately, as it had turned out, she had not been of Cos, but from White Water, on the northern shore of the Vosk, east of Tancred's Landing. She was, however, the sort of woman, slim, exquisite, very lightly complexioned, dark-haired, dark-eyed, to whom I had learned that Marcus was almost madly attracted. It seemed he could barely resist such a female, and, of course, in virtue of this, he, who in my opinion tended to be too self-critical anyway, was often furious with himself.

"Yet," I said, "our little Ina is not unattractive."

"No," he said, "she is not unattractive."

I laughed, and Ina blushed, her face, her arms, the lower part of her legs, and feet.

I had, of course, in Gorean generosity, accorded her use to Marcus. And there was little doubt in my mind, given his frequent use of her, that he found her of even considerable interest. To be sure, he was not always gentle with her. She was, after all, a woman of Ar, for which city he now held little love, that city which had abandoned Ar's Station to her fate; too, she was a traitress and such tend, regardless of the side they have betrayed, to be treated with great contempt and severity by Gorean men; thirdly, she had spied for Cos, for which polity he held a profound hatred. Had she actually been of Cos I might have had to protect her from him, lest he kill her. It was little wonder then, these things considered, that the lovely Ina often found herself being rapidly and contemptuously put through her paces by the young warrior, then being used, as it pleased him, with callous, ruthless skill. The usual Gorean taste in women, incidentally, tends to run toward the natural woman, short, well-curved, and such, as opposed, say, to unusually tall, small-breasted women. Ina, for example, short and luscious, was an excellent example of this extremely popular type. On the other hand, Gorean men tend to be fond of large varieties of women. In the markets even the sort of women who fulfill certain unusual commercial stereotypes of beauty on Earth, useful for displaying certain types of clothing, such as certain varieties of high-fashion models, will find their buyers. They, too, look well in chains. On Gor, to speak briefly, beauty is not stereotyped, or, if it is, if one wishes to speak in that fashion, there is a considerable number of such stereotypes, a large number of muchly desired types. Indeed, almost any woman, of any type, would be likely to find herself passionately desired, even fought for, on Gor by many men. But, to be sure, if she is a slave, she would have to serve them well.

"Let us approach the camp of Cos," I said.

"What are you going to do with me, my captor?" asked Ina, frightened.

"Curiosity is not becoming in a captive," I said.

"Yes, my captor," she said. My words, of course, were a play on a common Gorean saying, that curiosity is not becoming in a Kajira.

We then, together, continued on our way, toward Brundisium, in the vicinity of which lay the Cosian camp.

I hoped to arrive by nightfall.