“Few men know,” she said, “the secrets even free women confide to the silence and secrecy of their pillows.”
“But it was surely foolish,” I said.
“I did not expect to be a fugitive,” she said. “I thought the power of Talena in Ar was secure. Ar was beaten and downtrodden, confused and set against herself, cleverly divided so that she would be helpless before her foes. We did not anticipate the return of the great Marlenus.”
“Most who could recognize you,” I said, “might be unwise to return to Ar, having prices on their own heads, as Seremides.”
“They might well win their own amnesty,” she said, “were they to deliver a fugitive more sought than themselves. Such things are negotiable, through intermediaries.”
“Seremides,” I said, “is on board.”
“No!” she said.
“Under the name Rutilius of Ar,” I said.
“He must never see me!” she whispered. “He must never know I am on board!”
“Who?” I asked.
“I,” she said, “of course, the Lady Flavia!”
“The Lady Flavia,” I said, “is not on board.”
She looked up at me.
“A slave, Alcinoe, is on board,” I said.
“As you wish,” she said.
“Do you enjoy having this conversation on your knees?” I asked.
“It is appropriate, is it not,” she asked, “as I am a slave, before a free man.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I see,” she said.
“I am permitting you to keep your knees closed,” I said.
“Master is kind,” she said. “What if I should wish to open them, before you?” she asked.
“Do not do so,” I said.
“I see,” she said.
I recalled that she had claimed that I had raped her.
“Seremides,” I said, “knows you are on board.”
“No!” she cried, in misery. “Surely you did not tell him!”
“Stay on your knees,” I warned her.
“No,” I said, “I did not tell him. Why should I tell him? Better, surely, that it be I alone who should bring you before Marlenus.”
“You would bring me before Marlenus?” she said.
“Who would not?” I asked.
“Might I not prove a pleasing slave, Master?” she asked, tears in her eyes.
“One does not know,” I said.
“Alcinoe would do much to please her master,” she whispered.
“Speak louder, slave,” I said.
“Alcinoe would do much to please her master,” she said.
“That is only fitting for a slave,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“For the bounty on your head, pretty
“Surely not!” she said. Well had I stung the beauty’s vanity.
“Well, perhaps,” I said, “as much as yours would be beyond that of a typical copper-tarsk girl, a pot girl, a kettle-and-mat girl.”
“I thought my beauty too great for that of a female slave,” she said.
“But now,” I said, “you are more familiar with that of female slaves.”
“But I am beautiful!” she wept.
“I doubt that you would bring gold off the block,” I said, “but I think you would bring silver.”
“Surely I am beautiful!” she said.
“Yes,” I said, “you are beautiful, you are a lovely slave.”
“Am I not attractive?” she asked.
I did not tell her of the nights I had dreamed of having her, collared, in my arms.
“I have had better chained at my slave ring,” I said.
“You have had others chained at your ring?”
“Now and then,” I said.
“And how would you chain me,” she asked, “by throat or ankle?”
“As it might please me, on one night or another,” I said.
“And such is the master,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“I have never been at the foot of a man’s couch,” she said.
“In the beginning,” I said, “you would be slept on the flooring itself, or a mat.”
“Not on furs?”
“No,” I said.
“I would be slept as a low slave?”
“Of course.”
“Do you find me attractive?” she asked.
“Few slaves are without interest,” I said.
“I would like to be attractive to you,” she said.
“More attractive than a sack of gold?”
“I would scarcely dare hope so much,” she said.
“Master,” she said.
“Yes,” I said.
“If you did not know who I was, and you saw me on the block, naked, exhibited, posed, fearing the whip, writhing on command, might you not find me of interest, and bid for me, and hope to take me home-I, only a slave, on your chain?”
I recalled that she had lowered her veil before me, in Ar, I, only a common soldier, and more than once. However far above me she was then, I was now thousands of times higher than she, for she was now slave.
“Perhaps,” I said, “provided I could get you cheaply enough.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “Seremides does not really know I am on board.”
“He knows,” I said.
“How do you know Seremides knows I am on board?” she asked.
“Some days after having been brought on board,” I said, “I was interrogated by ship’s officers. Seremides was amongst them. Your name, Alcinoe, came up, given the contretemps of the cell. Seremides mentioned that he had seen you, and that you looked well in your collar.”
“Do I look well in my collar?” she asked, bitterly.
“What woman does not?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “We are females, the properties of men.”
“He suggested,” I said, “that you be given to him.”
“I see,” she said, shuddering.
“But, it seems,” I said, “that his request has not been granted, at least as yet.”
“He refused to abet my escape from Ar,” she said. “The mounting ladder was jerked away from me. I was left behind, abandoned.”
“Now, of course,” I said, “things are different. Now, a sack of gold might be tied about your neck, as you might be led, naked and bound, leashed, to the impaling pole, the sack to be cut from your neck and given to Seremides, as you are lifted, striving not to move, into public view.”
