The Chieftan

there. She saw the napkin which had covered Pulendius’s fist when he had struck down, shattering the delicate bowl.

How vulgar he had been!

Pulendius had his weaknesses, of course. Kana was one, obviously. His zeal for the arena and its sports was doubtless another. She knew he maintained a school for gladiators, a school in which men were trained in the use of weapons, both common and exotic.

The men of Pulendius, as well as Pulendius himself, seemed quite different from most of the men she had known.

How uneasy she felt in their presence. And how disturbing had been certain sensations.

She recalled the guard, he who had been behind Pulendius, and to his right.

Her fingers went uneasily to the golden necklace so closely encircling her throat. The tips of her fingers just touched it, barely, timidly.

She thought again of the guard.

Suddenly, angrily, she snatched up her small white purse and, with both hands, held it closely, tightly, against her.

How the guard had looked upon her!

She had never been looked upon in that fashion before!

How she despised him, how she hated him, that calm, half-naked giant who had dared to look upon her in that fashion.

And he had viewed her with contempt!

“I do not want to be whipped,” she thought, and then again, startled at such a mad thought, she sought to hurry it out of her consciousness.

How dared he to have looked upon her so?

What right had he to do so, he, only an ignorant, illiterate lout, only a beast trained for the arena?

She was of high birth, of the patricians!

“But perhaps he would not regard me as being worthy of being whipped,” she thought, and this thought disturbed her, and frightened her, and then again, such a mad thought, she rejected it, confusedly.

She saw the pourer of kana sorting plates on the table, preparing it for clearing.

“You,” she said.

The pourer of kana looked up, startled.

“Come here,” she said.

The pourer of kana came to where she stood.

“What is your name?” said the officer of the court.

“Janina, milady,” was the response.

“Speak clearly,” snapped the officer of the court.

“Janina, Mistress,” said the girl.

“Are you accustomed to standing in the presence of free persons?” asked the officer of the court.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” said the girl, and swiftly knelt before her.

“Is such a lapse not cause for discipline?” inquired the officer of the court.

“It is the will of the masters, Mistress,” she said. “In deference to the feelings of certain passengers, little attention is to be drawn to my true condition in public.”

“So you pretend to be a servant?”

“I serve, Mistress. But I do not pretend to be a servant. I would not dare to pretend to be so high.”

“I have seen your behavior in the lounge,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.

“In public.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“It is different in private, I take it,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress. In private, the fullness of my slavery is revealed.”

“And what does that mean?”

“That I am a slave, Mistress,” said the girl, trembling.

“And what does a slave do?”

“She strives to please, and obeys,” she said.

“And you can be bought and sold,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You are the sort of animal that can be bought and sold,” said the officer of the court.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.

“You are a pretty animal,” said the officer of the court.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl.

The officer of the court turned about, angrily. Then she turned about, again, to face the pourer of kana. She looked down upon hen angrily.

“You are an exquisite, extraordinarily attractive slave, Janina,” said the officer of the court.

“Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl.

“Such as you,” said the officer of the court, “are suitable for slaves.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the girl.

The officer of the court then, clutching her small, white purse close to her, went to the exit of the lounge.

She turned back at the portal.

The pourer of kana was still on her knees, beside the table.

“You may rise,” said the officer of the court. “Return to your work.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress,” said the girl.

In returning from the lounge to her cabin, unescorted, of course, for she was of Terennia, the officer of the court paused before a giant oval port in the corridor, which looked out on the vastness of the mysterious night, a night in which galaxies drifted, like glowing fragments in a dark sea.

She felt very small and alone in such a night, even with the lit corridor behind her, even with the comfortable, enclosing steel of the ship.

She regarded her image, reflected in the portal.

She moved her hand, brushing back her hair. She was not displeased with what she saw. She did not think she was unattractive. She thought that she would be wasted on Tuvo Ausonius. Yes, she would be wasted on him. But she would make him pay for that. He would suffer. She looked herself over, carefully. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have worn the white, off-the-shoulder sheath, the earrings, the necklace. She had purchased it in a ship’s shop, daringly. On Terennia they did not have such things, or, at least, she had not seen them. There, even a white, belted clingabout was thought to be scandalous. Her mother had been much against that, annoyingly, even fiercely, vociferously so, but she had worn it anyway. She was not accustomed to doing what others wanted. She was accustomed, rather, to doing precisely what she wanted, whatever she wanted, and when she wanted. She regarded her image steadily. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have worn this ensemble this evening. But then she thought not. Had one seen how that oaf, that ignorant, illiterate oaf, that guard, had looked at her? She could not recall ever having been looked at like that by a man before, saving of course by the same fellow, when he, a peasant, had stood in the dock in her mother’s court. She was then well satisfied with her appearance, and the garment. She thought of the poor little creature in the lounge, what was her name, Janina, or some such. She would wear only what men decided, or approved of. The officer of the court continued to regard herself in the mirror of the portal, the stars visible beyond. “How would I be dressed by men,” she wondered, “if I were a slave — or would I be permitted clothing?”

Then, suddenly, she started, gasping, for, behind her, clearly visible in the reflection of the port, was the large form of the guard, he who had been behind Pulendius, and to his right. She spun about and backed against the railing before the port.

The other guard, the other gladiator, was somewhat in the background.