“What hall have you in mind?” asked Aeacus.
“That of the Placid Sea, or that the Three Moons,” I said.
“Splendid,” he said.
Both halls were small, and pleasant, each appointed with the spare taste, the lack of clutter, the movable, painted screens one expected in such places.
“You will arrange the food, the drink, the service,” said Aeacus.
“Yes,” I said.
“Hail the victory of the exploratory force,” said Aeacus.
“Indeed,” I said.
I saw Seremides, now again across the courtyard. I thought him wise to remain in public places.
“So,” said Aeacus, “until this evening.”
“Yes,” I said, “until this evening.”
We could smell smoke, coming from the village.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Surely you have not forgotten the slaves,” said Aeacus.
“No,” I said.
Many were the savory odors which emerged from behind the screen, from sauces, stews, and soups, rich with shoots, herbs, nuts, spices, vegetables, and peppers, even tarsk and vulo, as well as parsit, crabs, and grunt, emanating from pots brought in from the central kitchens, which served the long tables, outside, the barracks messes, the larger halls, and the smaller halls, such as that of the Three Moons.
“And who will serve us?” asked Leros.
“These,” I said, and, holding them bent over, in leading position, one on my left, one on my right, I produced two slaves, lengthily tunicked, as the Pani seemingly preferred.
“Show them to us,” called one of the fellows.
I then straightened the slaves, and held them upright, each by the hair, standing, half on their tip toes, before the diners.
“Hands at your sides,” I informed the slaves.
“Splendid,” said a fellow.
The diners, at the small tables, some fifteen, those who had held the high watches on the great ship, sitting cross-legged, slapped their left shoulders with their right hands.
Both were beauties.
“First obeisance position,” I informed the slaves.
Both then went to first obeisance position, kneeling, head to the floor, palms of the hands down on the floor, at the sides of their head.
“Speak,” I said.
“It is the hope of this girl,” said the first, “that her service will be found pleasing by masters.”
“It is the hope of this girl,” said the second, “that her service will be found pleasing by masters.”
“Speak,” I said.
“It is the hope of this girl,” said the first, “that if her service is not found pleasing by masters, she will be well punished.”
“It is the hope of this girl,” said the second, “that if her service is not found pleasing by masters, she will be well punished.”
“Kneel up,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” they said.
“Head up,” I told them.
“Yes, Master,” they said.
Sometimes masters have the girls in position keep their heads down, until given permission to raise them.
When the head is up, of course, the girls’ features are well revealed.
They looked straight ahead, kneeling back on heels, back straight, belly in, shoulders back, hands palm down on the thighs.
“Well done, Callias,” said a fellow.
“You must have looked through the kennels early, and well,” said another.
“Pleasant vulos,” said a man.
“Tastas,” said another fellow.
“Master!” said one of the slaves.
“Do you object?” I asked.
“Please, Master,” said the other slave.
“Perhaps you do not care to be so characterized?” I said.
“Consider, Master,” said one of the slaves, and was then, suddenly, silent.
To be sure, a free woman, and particularly one of high station, would be outraged, and surely justifiably, to be so characterized, so familiarly, so intimately, so dismissively. Slaves, of course, as beasts and properties, to be looked upon with relish and objectivity, are accustomed to such appraisals. Indeed, they are indicative of interest and approval. Such things can warm the thighs of a slave. Do they not suggest that the object within her collar has come to the attention of free men? Do they not portend the possibility of eventual caresses, for which she hopes, which she is zealous to earn?
“Dear fellows,” I said, “it is possible these two were once free women. Many slaves were. Thus, your words may not comport with the dignity of ones who were once such.”
There was laughter at the tables.
“Thank you, Master,” said the first slave, uneasily.
“Thank you, Master,” said the second.
“Are you slaves?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” said the first slave.
“Yes, Master,” said the second slave.
“Very well,” I said, “pretty vulos, little tastas, split your knees.”
“Master!” said the slaves.
“Now,” I said.
A murmur of appreciation coursed through the men.
“How do you like them?” I asked.
“Superb,” said a fellow.
“For such meat,” said a fellow, “chains, and the block, were invented.”
“Do you not think they might prove to be ready juicers, both of them hot little collar puddings?”
One of the slaves gasped. And, even in the lamp light, I thought both turned white.
“Yes, yes!” laughed the men. Some pounded their shoulders, others drummed on the small tables before them.
They had been spoken of as though they might be common slaves.
But, to be sure, they were now common slaves.
“They are ship slaves, of course,” I reminded the fellows. “They are not to be put to slave use, without the permission of their owners, the Pani.”
Moans greeted this announcement.
To be sure, the fellows were well aware of the restrictions involved. This was nothing new to them. Such slaves had not been brought from the continent, months away, to instigate rivalries, generate dissension, undermine discipline, raise issues, occasion brawls, if not killings, and foment disruption at the World’s End. The
