Witness of Gor

28

“Is this the Lady Constanzia?” asked the fellow behind the high desk, looking down upon us.

“Yes, your honor,” said the pit master.

“Bring her forward,” he said. He was, as I understood it, an officer in the business court, that under the jurisdiction of the commercial praetor, subject, ultimately, to the high council.

The Lady Constanzia, clad in new, rich, ornate robes of concealment, fully hooded and veiled, was conducted forward, between two guards, from the pits. There were also, in the lofty, circular, sunlit room, the light coming through high, narrow windows, dust motes visible within it, two guards of the court. A broad, scarlet marbled circle was before the high desk of the praetor’s officer, and the Lady Constanzia was conducted to its center, the guards then withdrawing, moving back, several feet, leaving her there, alone, on the circle. She seemed small there, even tiny, before the high desk. The pit master, as indicated, was also in the room. I, too, was there. Indeed, it was I who, in my office as keeper for the state of the free woman, had led her here, she leashed and back-bracleted on the way. Though it might be thought demeaning to a free woman to be in the keeping of a slave, it was also thought to be less compromising to her modesty than to be led by a male. Having such in the keeping of a female, too, of course, is likely to be safer than entrusting them to a male who, after all, particularly if irritated of provoked, might be tempted to do far more to her than compromise her modesty. The slave, too, of course, is much more subject to supervision and control than a free man. She may, for example, for any lapse, or putative lapse, be easily put to punishment. Within the entrance to the court the Lady Constanzia had been freed of the leash and bracelets. One of the guards had inserted these within his pouch. I knelt back, and to the side, on the left side of the room, as one would face the desk. I wore a clean, modest tunic. My hair had been washed and brushed. It had also been tied back, behind my head. In this fashion it was perhaps less distractive, less luxurious and slavelike. But it also, of course, accented my collar.

To the left of the praetor’s officer, to our right, as we faced him, below him, on the floor level, on a bench, behind a table, was a court’s clerk.

“You are the Lady Constanzia, of the city of Besnit?” inquired the praetor’s officer.

“I am,” she said.

“You have been the object of ransom capture,” said the praetor’s officer.

“Yes your honor,” she said.

He then addressed himself to the court’s clerk. “There is no difficulty as to the matter of her identity?” he asked.

“No, your honor,” said the clerk. “Her fingerprints tally with those taken shortly after her delivery to Treve by the abductors.”

“Have the agents of the redemptor accepted her as the Lady Constanzia?” inquired the praetor’s officer.

“They have, your honor,” said the clerk.

“In virtue of interrogations and such?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“There is the matter of the slipper.”

“It is here,” said the clerk. He produced a tiny, jeweled, muchly embroidered slipper. It might have cost more than many slaves.

The praetor’s officer nodded to the clerk and carried the slipper to the Lady Constanzia, who took it in her hands, and looked upon it.

“Do you recognize it?” asked the praetor’s officer.

“Yes, your honor,” she said. “It is mine.”

“It matches with that brought by the agent of the redemptor?” asked the praetor’s officer.

“Yes, your honor,” said the clerk. He then took it back from the Lady Constanzia and returned to his desk.

“The court of the commercial praetor of the high city of Treve,” said the praetor’s officer,” accepts the prisoner as the Lady Constanzia of Besnit.”

The clerk made a notation on his records.

“You are now within the custody of the court of the commercial praetor of Treve,” said the officer.

“I understand, your honor,” she said.

“There is also the matter of the necklace,” said the praetor’s officer.

The clerk then produced, holding it out, a large, impressive necklace, with many strands, containing many stones. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Do you recognize the necklace?” asked the praetor’s officer.

“It seems to be that which I selected in the shop of the jeweler in Besnit, before my abduction,” she said.

“It is,” he said.

“Yes, your honor,” she said.

“And was it not to obtain such a thing that you went to the jeweler’s shop?”

“It was, your honor,” she said.

“Were you not careless of your safety?” he asked.

“Yes, your honor,” she said.

“It was not wise, was it?” he asked.

“No, your honor.”

“And then you were captured?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Why did you enter the shop?” he asked.

“To obtain such a thing, or things,” she said. “I wanted such things.”

“But you were rich.”

“I wanted more,” she said.

“Such greed,” he said, “is unbecoming in a free woman.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“It would be more appropriate,” he said, “in a slave girl.”

“Yes, your honor,” she said.

“Destroy the necklace,” said the praetor’s officer to the clerk.

“Your honor!” cried the Lady Constanzia.

“It is paste,” said the praetor’s officer.

We watched as the clerk struck a fire-maker, one used to melt wax for seals, and set the flame to the necklace. The flames sped from paste stone to paste stone, and the whole was then dropped to the side, flickering and smoldering.

“Such things are seldom used in ransom captures,” said the praetor’s officer. “They are usually used in luring of free women by slavers.”

We watched smoke curl upward from the necklace.

“It was kept on me until I came to this city, which I now learn, by your words, is Treve,” she said. “I thought it a joke, that I should be made to wear it, that all might see me in it, and realize how it had been used in my abduction, and that I wore it, such a rich thing, but, captive, could not profit from it.”

“The joke,” said the praetor’s officer, “was richer then you understood.”

“Yes, your honor,” she whispered.

“Do you know the identity of your redemptor?” asked the praetor’s officer.

“Yes, your honor,” she said. “They are my brothers.”

“Do you recall,” he asked, “when you were first in your house, and mistress of your enterprises, a certain matter of business, from more than three years ago, conducted with the house of William, in Harfax?”

“Your honor?” she asked.

“There was the cashing of letters of credit in Besnit, from the house of William, in Harfax, letters the House of William had drawn on the street of coins in Brundisium, to be used in the purchase of ingots in Esalinus, these to be melted down in Besnit and there, in Besnit, to be formed into the wares for which she is famous, thence to be sent to the house of William, for resale though the house of William to the shops of Harfax and elsewhere, even as far away as the Market of Semris, Corcyrus, Argentum, Torcadino, and Ar.”

The Lady Constanzia put down her head.

“The gold was fairly purchased at competitive prices,” said the praetor’s officer. “And the wares were made under the supervision of your house, and according to your specifications. But the wares were mismarked. Their gold content was not that agreed upon. The wares were muchly debased from the original agreements. Your house made an excellent profit on the matter, retaining the extra gold for your own coffers. Testimony from a metal worker, one traveling from Besnit to Brundisium, one who had been engaged in the manufacture of the wares in Besnit, seeing such articles in Harfax, and noting them marked as they were, in a way he knew false, alerted the house of William. They had not hitherto conducted tests, as the reputation of your house, prior to your accession as mistress of its enterprises, had been faultless. The wares were recalled and remarked. Much did the reputation of the house of William suffer. In time the street of coins in Brundisium demand repayment of its loans. The house of William was in jeopardy. Only two years later did it manage to recoup its losses, and to rebuild its fortunes. You may suspect that much bad blood then existed between your house and that of William, in Harfax.”

“Yes, your honor,” she said.

“Do you know now,” asked the praetor’s officer, “who your redemptor is?”

“Surely,” she said. “My brothers.”

“No,” he said.

“I do not understand,” she said, puzzled.

“It was naturally intended that your brothers, your won house, should be your redemptor,” said the praetor’s officer. “Naturally it was with such a redemption in mind that you were abducted for ransom.”

“They are not the redemptor?” she asked.

“Surely you were aware of delays in the matter of your ransom,” said the praetor’s officer.

“Yes, your honor,” she said.

“Your brothers refused to pay,” said the praetor’s officer. “Indeed, from their point of view, why should they? They were now first in their house, and master of its fortunes. If you were to return they would be reduced, again, to second.”

Lady Constanzia looked up at him.

“Their sense of honor seems to be equivalent to your own,” he said. “They would seem to be the fit brothers of such a sister, and you the fit sister of such brothers.”

“Why, then,” she asked, “is my redemptor?”

“Kneel,” said he, “prisoner.”

The Lady Constanzia knelt in the center of the scarlet circle.

“Your redemptor,” said he, “is the house of William, in Harfax.”

She looked up at him, started.

“An oath, it seems, was sworn,” said the praetor’s officer. “This oath was sworn upon the honor of the house of William, in Harfax. It was in this oath sworn that you were to be brought to the house of William as a slave, and put naked and in chains at the feet of the master of the house. Your disposition will be in accord with the provisions of this oath.”

She trembled, kneeling on the scarlet circle.

“Do you not wish to leap up, and try to escape?” asked the praetor’s officer. “Do you not wish to protest, to cry out, to beg for mercy? Do you not wish to bemoan your fate, to tear your clothing?”

“No, your honor,” she said.

“What have you to say?” he asked, puzzled.

“I will attempt to serve my master to the best of my abilities,” she said.

“I can guarantee it,” said the praetor’s officer. Then he lifted certain papers on his desk. “It is to be done in this fashion,” he said to the clerk. “She is to be stripped and branded, and put in a holding collar. She is also to be gagged, for her words, her please, her remonstrations or such, will be of no avail, nor will they be of interest to those of the house of William, in Harfax. Let them not then be disturbed by them. She is then to be placed in an outer robe of concealment, the outer robe only, but also hooded and veiled. Then, hands bound behind her, on a rope, at the tenth Ahn, she is to be brought to this place. Here she will be deliveredinto the hands not of an agent of the house of William but into the hands of one of that house itself, the youngest and least of that house, who has come to Treve for this purpose, to acquire her, to whom she is to be given as a slave.”

The clerk nodded, and, lifting his hand, summoned the guards of the court. They lifted up the Lady Constanzia who, it seemed, could scarcely rise unaided. Each guard then took one of her arms. The Lady Constanzia threw a wild glance toward me, over her shoulder, but she could do little more, as the guards held her arms. I lifted my hand to her. She was then conducted from the chamber. There were tears in my eyes. I did not rise, of course, for I had not received permission to do so.