The Chieftan

How different these people were, how different from those of her home world, how different from those of Terennia!

“See her!” laughed Pulendius, once more taking his seat.

“Please,” she protested.

Pulendius threw back his head, draining his bowl of kana. He had had perhaps too much to drink.

“We bring a virgin to Miton!” said Pulendius, who was a vulgar fellow.

He turned his bowl upside down on the tablecloth and seized up a napkin. “But soon!” he cried.

To be sure, she, a member of a high class, even a minor patrician, was indeed, at that time, a virgin.

She looked up, embarrassed, at the gladiator, the bodyguard, he still at his post behind, and to the right, of Pulendius.

Yes, he was regarding her, and as though she might be in a slaver’s house, and with that same subtle contempt as before.

How she hated him!

And then she was afraid, and a mad thought, meaningless, and absurd, coursed through her mind. “I do not want to be whipped,” she thought. Then, swiftly, confusedly, she dismissed this thought, so mad, so absurd.

Many women of Terennia were virgins, or “superiors,” as the phrase was on Terennia, particularly those of the educated, upper classes, sexuality being regarded as demeaning to women. Too, of course, marriage, and childbearing, and such things, were also frowned upon on that world, at least, again, among the women of the upper classes. What rational creature would wish to burden itself with such matters? The union between the officer of the court and the official, Tuvo Ausonius, we might note, had, accordingly, been arranged without a great deal of publicity, indeed, one might even say it had been arranged somewhat surreptitiously. But there could be a point in such things, you see, as embarrassing or regrettable as they might be, if they resulted in one’s, or someone’s, social, economic or professional advancement.

“But then!” had cried Pulendius.

And then he brought down his fist, wrapped in the napkin, heavily on the delicate, brittle, transparent bowl, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

The officer of the court shuddered, and blushed, and, doubtless heated by the kana, her senses reeling, almost swooned. This reaction may seem regrettably feminine, but one must consider the entirety of the circumstances, the power of Pulendius, the might of the men behind him, the laughter of those at the table, the heating of the kana, the fearful uneasiness in her own body, the sudden awareness, not for the first time, of its smallness and slightness, its softness and vulnerability, its great difference from that of men, and then the force of that massive fist striking down, shattering the bowl. In that moment much was conveyed to her on both a physical and a symbolic level. But I do not think we need to think of this reaction on her part, that she was then almost overcome, that she was then so shaken, that she almost swooned, as being regrettably feminine. That would be, after all, to adopt the values of Terennia, or of certain of its classes, and we wish to retain a neutrality in such matters, merely recounting what occurred, allowing the reader, should he feel the desire to do so, and should he feel entitled to do so, to form his own judgments on such matters. So we shall merely think of her reaction as being feminine, simply feminine, which it was, deeply, genuinely, authentically. Its explanation, moreover, most simply, was that she was a woman, and thus, for better or for worse, subject to such feelings and reactions. For such as she they were quite natural. Indeed, it would have been their denial, hitherto insisted upon in her culture, or in her class, which would have been unnatural, ‘unnatural’ in no pejorative sense, necessarily, but merely, even, in the quite neutral sense of being simply contrary to nature, for better or for worse. Among women, many of whom were less feminine than she, she had often felt an outcast, distrusting and fearing certain feelings in herself. She had never had the courage to be herself, what she truly was, a woman, something marvelous, and quite different from a man. She had always tried to deny and hide her womanhood, but it was there, and profoundly so, always. Certain changes would occur in her life which would have a considerable effect on such matters, which would, indeed, reverse, for better or for worse, these postures or policies. She would find herself eventually in situations, and in a condition, in which her womanhood could be, and, indeed, would have to be, fully expressed, a condition in which it was not only totally liberated, but in which it must be honestly and openly, and, indeed, fully, expressed, totally expressed, in which it was literally forbidden to her to deny it, in the least or most trivial fashion. Indeed, to her dismay, and joy, she would eventually find herself in situations, and in a condition, in which she must be herself, even choicelessly so, totally, whatever might be the consequences, for better or for worse.

“It is growing late,” said the captain.

Those about the table then rose up, bidding one another the joys of the evening.

“Is there kana left?” called Pulendius to the bearer of the kana flask.

“Yes, milord,” she responded.

He snapped his fingers, and she hurried to his place.

The officer of the court trembled, thrilled to see the woman obeying.

“Are you all right?” asked the young naval officer.

“Yes,” she said.

Pulendius took the flask from the pourer of kana and offered it to the guard on his left.

“No, milord,” said the guard.

Pulendius then offered the flask to the guard on his right.

“Thank you, milord. No, milord,” said that guard.

“Perhaps tomorrow night, after the contest?” said Pulendius.

“Yes, perhaps, milord,” said the guard.

“Your hounds are well trained,” said a man.

Pulendius himself then drank from the flask, and then put it down, a bit unsteadily, on the table.

Two or three of the women came about the table to where the officer of the court had risen and gently kissed her, wishing her much happiness. The officer of the court responded in kind, but stiffly, formally, self-consciously. She was, after all, from Terennia.

The bodyguard to Pulendius’s right, looking upon her, decided that she was not worth a collar.

Another woman wished her well.

How stiff she was, how self-conscious.

On Terennia, you see, physical contact, the touching of one human being by another, was frowned upon, at least by members of her class.

How stiff she was, indeed, how self-conscious.

Yet, as he continued to regard her, he sensed in her, or thought he sensed in her, a significant latent sexuality, a powerful sexuality now almost entirely suppressed, one straining against cruel, grievous constraints, one such that, if it were ever released, could never again be subject to management, one which, if released, she would find uncontrollable, one at the mercy of which she would then find herself, its prisoner and victim.

Another of the women gave the officer of the court a gentle kiss.

Yes, he thought, she might not prove to be entirely without interest.

But then he dismissed such thoughts, for she was of the honestori, and even a minor patrician.

One did not think of such in a collar, at least not on any world with which he was familiar.

Still, he thought he had a score to settle with her, and she might look well in one.

“Good night, my dear,” said Pulendius.

“Sir,” she said.

Pulendius then left, a little unsteadily. She watched him exit the lounge, at one point supported by the guard at his right. She was familiar with Pulendius, of course. Who would not be, in her sector of Terennia?

He was fabulously rich, of course, with his enterprises, his lands, tilled by some four thousand coloni. He had much power. He must have many enemies. Guards were almost always with him, large, alert, agile men, skilled, ruthless men, gladiators, it was said.

She looked back, down at the tablecloth, at crumbs there, at crumpled napkins, at rings of kana