“There is an informer,” she said.
A gasp escaped us.
“It seems pressures were great,” said Nora. “Scrutiny becomes intense. What move could be made? What could be done? The least movement, the least breath of air, might not escape vigilance. How much was already known to the golden chains? Perhaps the net was already flung. Perhaps the cords were inexorably being drawn tight. It must have seemed only a matter of time, and perhaps a very little time, before the plot and its participants would be exposed. Who would be the first to save himself at the expense of others?”
“Who was the informer?” asked Jane.
“Desmond, Desmond of Harfax,” said Nora.
“No!” I cried.
“It seems so,” said Nora.
“It cannot be!” I said.
“It is his name which is spoken,” said Nora.
I recalled that Desmond of Harfax had once said to me, “It is clear how at least one might survive.”
“How?” I had asked.
“By betraying the rest,” he had said.
Chapter Forty-Seven
A double guard, though it was daylight, had been placed at the mouth of the Cave. It was thus, in effect, sealed.
It had been announced, yesterday, that all conspirators had twenty Ahn in which to surrender themselves, before their names would be revealed to the high Kurii by Desmond of Harfax, who, in full nobility, had come forward voluntarily to perform his bounden duty to his superiors.
He had apparently made the stipulation that he would reveal the names of the conspirators only to Agamemnon himself, thus assuring himself that all would be done fully and properly, without any confusion or mistake, and, also, naturally, one supposes, that he, Desmond of Harfax, would then be recognized personally by a grateful Agamemnon as the informant, and would, thus, be certain to receive his proper reward.
The twenty allotted Ahn, of course, had now passed without incident. Certainly no one had come forward, surrendering himself to the golden chains.
“Free person!” cried Nora.
The kajirae in the slave quarters went immediately to first obeisance position. I did not even know who had entered.
“Allison,” said a woman’s voice, one I well recognized, but had not heard for months.
“Mistress,” I said, looking up, seeing the Lady Bina. It was clear she was free, but she was not well robed. It was different from Ar, and even from the more casual robing of the trail. The robe, I suspected, was of a single layer. It was brown, soiled, and ragged at the hem. It suggested the garment of a Peasant woman, who might work in the fields. Normally the Lady Bina was fastidious with respect to her garmenture. It came midway on her calves. She had fashioned for herself, from similar material, a hood, and veil. The veil was loose about her lower face, more a token of veiling than anything else. The Lady Bina, I supposed as much from vanity as impatience with some of the cultural niceties expected of the Gorean free woman, had always been lax in veiling. I again realized how exquisitely beautiful she was. I thought she might be in jeopardy, particularly now, if she were to traverse the halls alone. But she was not alone. A Kur was behind her. I realized with a start, though I should have expected it, that the Lady Bina was a prisoner.
“You are to come with me, Allison,” she said. “We are to witness the deposition of Desmond of Harfax.”
“I do not wish to do so,” I said.
“I am sorry,” she said.
“Why are we to do so?” I asked.
“They want witnesses who are not free men,” she said. “One of them might be implicated. We are chosen, I suppose, because he was in the employ of myself and Grendel, and you were in his keeping.”
The Lady Bina turned to the other kajirae in the room. “You may rise,” she said.
The beast with her turned toward the door.
“We are to go outside, Allison,” she said. “Desmond of Harfax is to be led down the hall shortly, to the Audience Chamber of Agamemnon. We are to follow.”
She preceded the Kur from the room, and I followed her, a bit behind, on the left, as befitted a slave. She was free. I would heel her.
Outside the door to the slave quarters the Kur stopped, and we, with him, stopped, and waited there. I knelt, and the Lady Bina stood. There were several men in the corridor, mostly along the sides. There were a few Kurii, too.
I saw the Lady Bina looked upon.
Surely it would have been better had she been clad in the Robes of Concealment. Many of the men, as far as I know, had never seen her before. I am sure many did not know what to make of her. Should there not be a collar on her neck? If there was, it would be concealed by the casual veiling she had arranged. But she was not camisked. Could she be free? It would seem so, for the comparative amplitude of her garmenture, but, too, it did not seem all that much, and it was fairly obvious that her robe was thin, and of but a single layer. Too, she was beautiful, surely slave beautiful, that beautiful. When men look upon such beauty it is natural for them to think, as well, of chains and the block.
I kept my head muchly down, and my knees closely together. Even so, I did not doubt but what, collared and camisked, and despite the proximity of the Lady Bina, I did not escape my share of attention.
The way the men were about, and near the sides of the hall, looking back down the hall, toward the direction from which Desmond of Harfax might approach, I was uneasy. It was too much like a gantlet. Almost none of those men, of course, had been at that perilous meeting called so long ago by Desmond of Harfax, at which, I, too, had been in attendance. I was sure they were no part of Master Desmond’s party. Yet, too, I sensed hostility amongst them. Goreans do not look lightly upon treachery. Too, even if they were not of Master Desmond’s party, most might have been sympathetic to any band of men who, in the face of the Kurii, might have dared to secretly enleague themselves. Certainly there was much disgruntlement in the Cave amongst the humans, and, as nearly as I could determine, amongst several of the Kurii as well. The new regulations chafed all.
Amongst the men I did see two who had been at the meeting, Trachinos and Akesinos.
I found it hard to believe that Desmond of Harfax would have betrayed his fellows. He had seemed to suspect that someone might do so. If this were inevitable, I supposed he thought the survivor might as well be he. How then could one blame him in such circumstances? Would not the rational agent seize such an opportunity before it was seized by another? Should he not be praised for his initiative, and astuteness? Yet I was muchly discountenanced by his decision. It did not seem like the Master Desmond I had thought I had known. I saw him now as tarnished. I had feared I was unworthy to be the slave of so fine a master. Now I did not even wish to belong to him. Had he not behaved as I might have expected a man not of Gor, but of Earth, cunning, self-seeking, and devoid of honor, to behave? Of Gor, was he not more of Earth than Gor?
I looked up, as I heard a ripple of awareness about me. Leaning forward I saw, approaching, Desmond of Harfax, followed by two Kurii, who occasionally bared their fangs threateningly, and growled, as men started to surge closer to their charge. Desmond was smiling, which seemed the more to anger the men about. He did not seem to notice frowns, and raised fists, nor did he see fit to respond to hissed insults, as he passed.
When he came to our place he paused and saluted the Lady Bina, who did not, as far as I know, return his salutation. I put my head down, as I did not want to look upon him. I felt my world had collapsed. What, now, could be believed? What, now, could remain in its place?
“Traitor!” I heard, and I looked up to see a shape from the side, Akesinos, hurling himself upon Desmond of Harfax, his hands clutching for his throat. In a moment, scuffling, they were rolling in the hall. “Stop, you fool!” said Desmond of Harfax. “Let me alone! You will spoil all!” I do not think this was picked up by the translators. Trachinos pulled Akesinos bodily from Desmond of Harfax. “Run,” said Desmond of Harfax to Akesinos. “Mix with the others!”
