Witness of Gor

26

“You have eaten nothing!” I chided the Lady Constanzia. She lay in the white sliplike garment, that undergarment resembling a slave tunic, on the mat in her cell, her knees drawn up. Her eyes were red with weeping. She stared outward, though I think she was looking at nothing. I did not even know if she had heard me.

I had returned from my duties in the cell of the peasant, following the pit master back to his quarters. It was late, the same night as the raid of the intruders.

A messenger had been awaiting the return of the pit master. His missive had been delayed, given the disruptions in the city, and those in the pits.

“I will never see him again!” said the Lady Constanzia.

“Eat,” I said.

‘No,” she said.

“Do you wish me whipped, that you have not fed?” I asked.

“Take it to the other girls,” she said. “None will know.”

I put the plate to one side. My fellow pit slaves would be glad to get it. It was better than their common fare in the pits. They would fall on their knees about the pan, seizing what they could from it.

“I bring you word,” I said, “which has but recently been received.”

“Is it word from him?” she asked, looking up.

“Alas, no,” I said. “But it should make you happy. It is good news for you, indeed.”

“What?” she asked, in misery.

“Your ransom has been paid,” I said. “The agreed-upon amounts have been lodged with the business council, the entire matter attested to by the commercial praetor. I saw the orders, and the seals.”

“You cannot read,” she said.

“I could not read the orders,” I said, “but I saw them, and the seals.”

The orders, bearing the seals, had been delivered to the pit master.

“Rejoice!” I said. “Your sojourn here, in this damp, dismal place, in this cell, behind these bars will soon be done. You will soon be returned to your native city and your accustomed mode of life.”

She put her head down on the mat, and sobbed.

“Do not cry,” I said. “This is what you have longed for, this is what you have waited for, this is what you have lived for, what you have hungered for, your freedom, your liberty!”

She wept.

“What is wrong?” I asked.

“Better a chain in a poor man’s kitchen,” she said.

“What?” I said.

She looked up at me. “You know I am not a free woman,” she said.

“You are a free woman!” I assured her. “You must be!”

“Why?” she asked.

I did not know what to respond to her.

“I want to be helpless,” she said. “I want to be owned!”

“Lady Constanzia!” I protested.

“Do you not understand?” she asked. “I want, with all that I am, with everything that I am, to love and serve, holding back nothing, ever! I want to give all!”

I was silent.

“Surely you understand these things, Janice,” she said.

“I am only a collared slave,” I said. “I have no choice in such matters!”

“Fortunate Janice!” she wept.

“Hist!” I said. “I think I hear the approach of the guard. Hasten! Don the robes of concealment!”

“No,” she wept.

“You must!” I said.

“No,” she said. “Whip me, if you wish, as a slave.”

The guard’s footsteps came closer.

I seized up her robes of concealment and flung them over her as though they might have been bedclothes.

I then knelt before her, putting my hands out. “Please, Master!” I said. “Here is a free woman! She is not clothed. All is well. I will soon leave the cell! Please do not look. Please do not compromise her modesty!”

But he did look, a little, particularly were one ankle emerged from beneath the robes.

But then he took his way away, continuing with his rounds.

“Thank you, Master,” I said.

“Those were the happiest days of my life,” said the Lady Constanzia, “with him, in his power, in a collar and the rags of a slave.”

I kissed her, trying to comfort her.

“I will never see him again. I will never see him again,” she wept.

I picked up the plate, with the untouched food, and left the cell, locking it behind me.