At that time I did not realize how unwise was such a question. Happily, at least at that time, the Lady Bina lacked many of the habits, dispositions, and responses of the Gorean free woman.
“Certainly,” she said. “I am proposing myself to be Ubara of Ar.”
“I see,” I said. “Is Master Grendel to be informed of this?”
“No,” she said. “He might not approve.”
I did not doubt that.
“You will leave in the morning,” she said, “at dawn, as though on a common errand. Indeed, I will give you two tarsk-bits and you may later purchase some larmas which we may press for breakfast.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
In that way, I supposed, my true mission, that of import, might be judiciously veiled.
“Now,” she said, “relieve yourself, and we will chain you for the night.”
“I need not be chained, Mistress,” I said. “I will not run away.” Indeed, where would one run? By noon I had little doubt but what I would be returned, bound, on a leash, to the house of Epicrates.
“I suppose not,” she said. “But the Lady Delia has told me that a slut like you belongs on a chain.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
I knew that males commonly kept their girls chained at night, usually to the foot of their couch, where they might be conveniently at hand, if desired in the night. In larger houses, girls were sometimes slept in their cages, perhaps to help them keep in mind that they are animals, and thus suitably caged.
The Lady Bina, perhaps on the advice of the Lady Delia, chained me so that my mat would lie across the threshold, at the height of the stairs. My left ankle was chained on one side of the portal and my right wrist on the other side. In this way an intruder would have to pass me, indeed, step over me, and, in this passage, would be likely to be discovered. The left ankle is the ankle most commonly chained, probably because most masters are right-handed. Too, it is the ankle most often fitted with bells or an ankle ring, presumably for the same reason. And I was right handed. Master Grendel slept on the roof. Were I a slaver, or a raider, I do not think I would have cared to have my tarn alight in his vicinity.
Master Grendel, as the Lady Bina apparently was not, was well aware of the possible jeopardy in which an unguarded free woman might find herself on Gor. Too, she had no Home Stone, no family, no clan, no caste.
I wondered if the beast was aware of how beautiful the Lady Bina actually was, how attractive she might prove to a human male. Probably not, I thought. She was not of his kind. He, a beast, would be unaware of such things.
The next day, about the Seventh Ahn, miserable and sore, walking stiffly, I had returned to the second floor of the house of Epicrates.
“What is wrong?” asked Master Grendel.
“Put the larmas here,” said the Lady Bina. “Is there change?”
“A tarsk-bit,” I said.
“You are improving in your bargaining,” said the Lady Bina.
“I did not let them know I had two,” I said.
“Excellent,” she said. “She is clever,” she said to the beast.
One learns such things.
“Why are you bruised?” asked the beast.
“No matter,” said the Lady Bina.
“No,” said the beast. “Why?”
I looked to the Lady Bina, frightened.
“You may speak, Allison,” she said.
“Soldiers,” I said.
I had not been within a hundred paces of the Central Cylinder when a lowered spear had blocked my way.
I had made clear my business, that I was to deliver a message to the Ubar, or to some high officer, who might then convey it to him, and the note was then taken from me by an officer, not of high rank, perhaps the commander of a ten, who read it, laughed uproariously, slapped his thigh, and then, to my unease, shared it with others, while I knelt.
It, and its bearer, were obviously the cause of much amusement.
“Is there an answer, Master?” I had asked.
“Yes,” he said, and availed himself of a marking stick, and wrote something on the back of the note.
Still kneeling, I took the note.
“Thank you, Master,” I said.
“Is your ‘Mistress’ free?” asked the officer.
I fear he thought some jest was afoot, perhaps sprung from the humor of some fellow officer.
“Certainly Master,” I said.
Surely a mistress would be free.
“We will give you something for her then,” he said. Then to four of his subordinates, he said, “Seize and spread her wrists and ankles and belly her.”
“Master?” I said.
“This,” said he, “is for your Mistress.”
He then, and some others, with feet and spear butts, belabored a slave.
I wept with misery.
“Here is one for your Mistress!” said a fellow.
“And here is another!” said another fellow.
“And another!” said yet another.
“Aii!” I cried. “Please no, Masters! Please, no, Masters!”
Then I was released, and lay before them, on the stones, sobbing, and bruised, a beaten slave.
One may not, of course, strike a free woman. They are not to be struck. They are to be held immune from such corporeal indignities. They are free. Indeed, there are penalties for such things. On the other hand, I then learned, and later confirmed, that a slave may stand proxy for a Mistress’s punishment.
Supposedly this is disconcerting to the free woman, and she much suffers, being outraged, scandalized, and humiliated at her subjection to this vicarious chastisement.
The Lady Bina, however, who knew little of Gorean culture, failed to detect the insult intended, and bore up well under the ordeal.
“I do not think anything is broken,” said the beast.
“No,” I said.
When a slave is beaten the point is usually to correct her behavior, or improve her, not to injure or maim her.
Still they had not been gentle.
“It is past the Seventh Ahn, Allison,” said the Lady Bina. “Did you dally, flirting about the stalls and shops?”
“No, Mistress,” I said. I had been pleased, incidentally, that I had seen nothing of the offensive Metal Worker, for whom I had looked, the better to avoid him, of course. Certainly I would not have wished him to see me as I was then, stiff and aching, miserable and bruised.
“Four larmas for a tarsk-bit, especially in the morning, is quite a good buy,” said the Lady Bina.
“I did smile at the stallsmen,” I said.
“Excellent,” said the Lady Bina. “Men are such manipulable weaklings.”
“Some men,” said the beast.
“Squeeze the larmas,” said the Lady Bina. “There are biscuits, and honey breads, in the pantry.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I said.
“Wait,” said the beast. “There was a response to the note?” he said.
“Written on its back,” I said.
“It will not be important,” said the Lady Bina.
The large paw, five-digited, like a human hand, was thrust toward me, and I withdrew the note from my tunic, and, head down, handed it to the beast.
