“Master!” protested a slave.
“There is nothing special about high-caste slaves,” I said. “They are often purchased to be put to lowly duties, and thrash at the slave ring.”
“I wonder if any of these slaves are hot,” said Alcinoe. I thought this was an interesting remark, considering that Alcinoe, at least as far as I knew, was white silk.
“If they are not now,” I said, “they will soon become so, in the hands of masters.”
“Please, Master,” protested one of the slaves.
“As your beauty, while remarkable,” I said, “does not seem all that unusual for slaves, I am supposing that there is another reason for your hooding.”
“Master?” said one of the slaves.
“It is perhaps to conceal identities,” I said. “Perhaps, say, in Ar, there is a bounty, for your return.”
I heard a rattling of chain.
This reaction told me much of what I wanted to know. Hundreds of high-caste women, associated with the party of treason, must have fled Ar, many of whom, far from its Home Stone, might, as had the former Lady Flavia of Ar, fallen into bondage. Many may have had their hair shorn and begged retreating soldiers, of Tyros and Cos, and of the free companies, to take them with them, not as inconvenient, troublesome free women, but as begging, complaisant slaves. Others who had accompanied the retreat as free women might have found themselves eventually sold in the western ports, in particular, in Brundisium, where the Pani seem to have purchased most of their slaves for the voyage. The Pani, of course, would not have realized, in most cases, that there were bounties in the offing, and, had they realized it, they were, apparently, not much interested in such things. They were apparently more interested in what might be done with the women on the far side of Thassa. It was something there that they wanted them for. And, I supposed, not all of the women, and perhaps only a few, might be wanted in Ar. Of the women who had spoken, only two had had an accent which suggested Ar. Accordingly, it seemed clear to me that there must be a different purpose behind the hooding. Alcinoe, for example, whose identity might have been suspected by more than one fellow on the ship, had not been hooded. Too, if the Pani had any interest in bounties, and such, the last thing they would have done would be to transport such women far from Ar. The Pani wanted beauty, not gold, of which it seemed they had a good deal.
So why then, I asked myself, would these women, those of a particular group, housed in the Venna keeping area, have been hooded?
“Well,” I said to Alcinoe, looking about, “what do you think?”
“Perhaps, Master,” said Alcinoe, “they were not hooded for beauty, but, rather, to conceal their plainness.”
“Master!” protested several of the slaves.
“Beat her, Master!” urged one.
“These are obviously beautiful slaves,” I said, “high-grade merchandise, which would bring good coin off the block, but, as you have suggested, I see no particular reason for their hooding.”
“Surely,” said Alcinoe, “several of the other slaves, of the Venna keeping area, never hooded, are every bit as beautiful.”
“Yes,” I said.
I could remember that from the deck.
“And doubtless some of the Kasra keeping area, as well,” she added.
“Yes,” I said.
I could remember several of them, as well.
Alcinoe, I thought, was fetching in the Kasra tunic, what there was of it.
“Bring the lamp,” I said to Alcinoe.
“Hold position,” I said to the slaves.
“Perhaps we should leave, Master,” said Alcinoe. “I think the men have left the outer area.”
I looked about.
“Follow me,” I said.
In the special area, that devoted to the slaves who would be brought hooded to the upper deck, there were twenty slaves, as I determined, arranged in five rows of four each. I went toward the back of
the special area, on the right.
Each slave was in position.
“Perhaps we should hurry, Master,” said Alcinoe.
“Follow me,” I said.
Alcinoe followed, with the lamp.
“Master?” said Alcinoe.
“I have not well examined this last row of slaves,” I said.
I began with the one farthest to the right, drawing her head back, by the hair, that I might examine her features in the light of the lamp.
“She is nice, is she not?” I said to Alcinoe.
“Perhaps,” said Alcinoe.
I released the girl’s hair, that she might return to position.
I similarly examined the next two girls.
“Lovely,” I said of each.
Of the first Alcinoe suggested that her value might be improved, if she could play the lyre. Of the second, Alcinoe wondered if slavers might be more interested in her, if she could dance.
“Can you dance?” I asked the girl.
“The flower dance of the free maiden,” she said, frightened, her head held back, by the hair.
“Then you do not know the dances of begging slaves,” I said.
“No, Master,” she said. Such dances are often taught to the snapping of a whip.
“After you are in the hands of a master,” I said, “you may beg to learn such dances.”
“Master?” she said.
“To be more pleasing,” I said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I wondered if Alcinoe could learn slave dance. I thought so. Such dance is instinctual in a woman. I had little doubt that many lives had been saved, after the fall of a city, by a naked captive’s supplicatory writhings before its conquerors.
We came then to the last slave, on her chain.
Oddly, she cried out in fear, broke position, and bent over, shuddering, covering herself, as she could, with her hands.
“Bring the lamp closer,” I said to Alcinoe.
By the hair, I drew up the head of the slave, and she, interestingly, tried to turn to the side, and, neglecting her body, covered her face with her hands.
To be sure, many women fear face stripping more than body stripping. The face, after all, with its subtleties of expression, is uniquely personal, particularly revelatory, and especially revealing. A woman’s face, exquisite, delicate, and beautiful, commonly so different from that of a man, unveiled, is vulnerable and defenseless, a window into her emotions and thoughts, into her heart and needs, a window that puts her ever the more helplessly in a man’s power. A saying has it, bare the face, bare the woman. Another well-known saying is, remove the veil of a free woman and look upon the face of a slave. So it is no wonder that the free woman is concerned with her veiling. But this was a slave. Slaves are not permitted to conceal their faces. Their faces must be naked, and all are to be free to look upon them. Would it not be absurd to veil a verr, or kaiila? Such an inhibition seldom lasts past a girl’s first switching. And soon a slave, the vain creature that she is, delights as shamelessly in the exhibition of her features as of her form. And perhaps more so. It is the whole of her, after all, marvelous and wondrous, that is collared.
So why would this slave have attempted to conceal her face?
“Position,” I said to her, soothingly.
She then knelt.
“Split your knees,” I said to her gently.
