Desmond, was to return on all fours to her cage, her silk clenched between her teeth. It would be removed, doubtless, before the cage door would shut behind her. Such cages are tiny, as I understood it, and this encourages the girls, for an additional reason, to be zealous in the alcoves, that they might strive to obtain a private master. Certainly Kalligone had approached Master Desmond without having been summoned. I supposed I should feel sorry for her. Rather, I was pleased that she was back in a cage. I hoped that it was small. In most, as I understood it, a girl can do little more than kneel, or sit or lie down, with her legs drawn closely up. In such constraints a girl is kept well apprised that she is a slave. To be sure, such a cage is luxurious compared to the “slave box,” usually used for punishment. Even the proudest and most recalcitrant of slaves, usually a recent free woman, of high caste, is quickly broken in such a device, and emerges a readied, humbled, and trembling slave, fearful only that she will not be found fully pleasing, and in all ways. In the kitchen, at the eating house of Menon, we had our chains and mats. Menon was a kind man. He was often criticized for being too lenient with his girls. There was, of course, a whip in the kitchen.
“Probably we should return to the wagons,” said Desmond.
“I have failed,” said Astrinax, wearily. “We have offered good fee, but none seem interested in essaying the Voltai, at least as of now.”
“Perhaps it is the season,” said Lykos.
“Wake up, Allison,” said Master Desmond.
“I am not asleep,” I said, acidly, rising to my knees.
I had resolved never to speak to him again, unless, of course, commanded to do so. I was not eager to sustain the attentions of a displeased free person. They tend to be quick with instruments of correction, usually of braided leather.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I said.
“Good,” he said.
“I do not like her tone of voice,” said Lykos. “Beat her.”
“Please, no, Master!” I said, quickly, frightened.
It had been made clear to me, quite clear, in the house of Tenalion, that a slave must speak to free persons as the slave she is. She is not to forget that. She is not a free woman, who might speak in any way she wishes. She is a slave, only that. A sharp or unpleasant word may bring her a lashing. Her voice, as her behavior, as a whole, must show that she is a slave, and knows herself such. She is to speak softly, politely, respectfully, humbly, and clearly, with excellent diction. She is not allowed the mumbling, the indecipherable gibberish, the ambiguities, the false starts and stops, the slovenliness allowed to the free woman. She is to address free persons always in the clear understanding that there is a collar on her neck, that she is subject to discipline, and that it will be inflicted upon her if he is found in any way displeasing.
“Please do not whip me,” I said.
“Is there something wrong?” asked he in whose charge I was.
I looked away.
“Beat her,” said Lykos.
“Please, no!” I said.
“Did she not fail to answer a question?” asked Lykos.
I knew Eve was to report to Lykos. I did not envy her.
“What is wrong?” inquired Master Desmond.
“How do you think I feel,” I asked, “kneeling down, my eyes closed, my head to the floor, my hands behind me, wrists crossed, and then you abandon me.”
“And alcove the girl, Kalligone,” laughed Astrinax.
“You were not abandoned,” said he in whose charge I was. “Astrinax and Lykos were here.”
“And no one cares how you feel, girl,” said Lykos. Again, I did not envy Eve.
“Have you no interest in my body?” I asked he in whose charge I was.
“Of course your body is of some interest,” said he in whose charge I was. “For example, your ankles shackle well. Of greater interest is the whole of you, which I think it might be interesting to own.”
“Master,” I said, uncertainly.
“To own the whole of you,” he said, “as a slave is owned.”
“So completely?” I said.
“Of course,” he said.
“That goes far beyond law,” I said.
“No,” he said. “It is in law, as well, that the whole slave is owned.”
“I see,” I said.
“She needs a beating,” said Lykos.
“Quite possibly,” said he in whose keeping I was.
“No!” I said.
“She is a trim little thing,” said Lykos, “and I suspect, with a bit of proper stimulation, she would be writhingly helpless.”
“Surely not!” I said. To be sure, what did I know of such things? I did sense that if he in whose keeping I was were to touch me, I might cry out helplessly, and, a grateful, shameless slave, press myself piteously to him.
But I hated him!
He had knelt me, eyes closed, head to the floor, wrists crossed behind me, awaiting their pinioning, and then, when I had been released from this custody, I had seen him thrust a stripped, frightened, thonged Kalligone before him to an alcove!
I was quite angry.
How I had been treated!
I resolved to speak as little to Master Desmond thenceforth as possible. I would have to be subtle, of course. The lash is unpleasant. Let him then, over the coming days, puzzle over my coolness, my distance, my aloofness. Surely a free woman could make a man so suffer. Why then might not a slave? Let him try to fathom the mystery of my remoteness, my indifference, my troubling, inexplicable detachment. Perhaps he would then, eventually, regret his treatment of me!
“Allison,” said he in whose charge I was, “I have not been fully satisfied with your behavior, as of late.”
“Please do not whip me,” I said.
“You are hereby sentenced to the modality of the mute slave,” he said. “You are herewith denied permission to speak. You are silenced. You may not, even, in language, beg for permission to speak. As when gagged, one whimper will serve for ‘yes’ and two for ‘no’. Do you understand?”
I looked at him with misery.
I would not even be permitted to speak to Jane or Eve, or even to the Lady Bina or Lord Grendel, unless I was commanded to do so, which commands were highly unlikely of issuance, as free persons tend to be consistent where the discipline of slaves is in question. Indeed, if I were to attempt to circumvent the discipline of Master Desmond by an appeal to Lord Grendel, I had no doubt he would lash me well, and if I were to attempt to appeal to the Lady Bina I was sure she would make inquiries as to what was appropriate under such circumstances, and then, when informed, as custom recommended, would have me lashed as well.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
I whimpered once.
The road here was narrow, and rough.
I looked up, at the stone channel of the aqueduct, some hundred feet over my head.
We had left Venna four days ago.
The first two days Jane, Eve, and I had been chained to the back of the last wagon. This was done by each of us having her hands braceleted before her, and a chain run from the bracelets to a ring on the back of the wagon, three chains, three rings, this permitting us to walk abreast.
On the first day, as we were attached to the wagon, Jane and Eve had been in consternation that I could not speak with them.
“Speak to us!” said Jane. “We are your friends!” I could do little more than shake my head, tears running
