blood of this young officer was doubtless as high as that of the imperial house itself.
How incredible it was that one such as he would be aboard this vessel.
Tears formed in the eyes of several of the men in the tiers.
With a gesture the young officer put the company at ease.
The young officer then, as would be in accord with the protocols of the service, saluted the captain, who smartly returned this greeting.
He then took his seat, beside the captain.
At this point Pulendius emerged from behind the tiers, opposite the main door, followed by four pairs of gladiators. These were powerful men, clad in brief leather, with their hair fastened back, their bodies oiled.
“There is to be an exhibition,” said the minor officer.
The gladiators, two pairs armed with blunt spears, two pairs with wooden swords, began to exercise and stretch in the tiny arena.
Some of the women inadvertently gasped, seeing the rippling of such muscles, the movements of the mighty thighs. Doubtless most had seen fighters before, but it is not likely they had seen them at this proximity.
The officer of the court looked about for a particular gladiator, he who had been the bodyguard of Pulendius, he who had been behind him and to the right.
He was nowhere in view.
Then, after a moment he, with his fellow, appeared, both at the opening in the tiers, through which Pulendius and the others had but recently emerged.
They, as was the business of such fellows, surveyed the crowd. She sat very straight, in “same garb,” with the “frame-and-curtain,” making certain that she did not look at him, or, at least, not obviously. Her interest, he must clearly understand, was on the ring. See her as a common slave, would he? Let him see her now, as she really was, a high creature, one far above him, one immeasurably above him, a woman of Terennia, one even of the blood itself!
But, of course, she looked back to see if he might be looking at her, and, as one might expect, what should happen to be the case but that, to her embarrassment, their eyes met. Swiftly then, blushing, she looked away.
At least she was in “same garb,” and in the “frame-and-curtain”! But she knew, too, that she had been before him not simply, in “same garb,” and in the “frame-and-curtain,” but in those other garments, too, those to which we earlier alluded. She could now feel them, in all their filmy, sensuous softness, on her body. She was wearing them before him. Of course, he could not see them, but she knew they were there, and that she had them on, before a man. The nature of these garments was doubtless quite innocent, but scarcely so from the point of view of a woman from Terennia. For a woman of Terennia, of her class, the garments which she now wore went well beyond the merely daring, and doubtless beyond even the perimeters of the scandalous. They were soft and sensuous, and provocative. They were the sort of thing which only a woman who should be a slave would wear. They were emphatically indecent. She could feel her breasts straining against the soft, filmy silken bonds which constrained them, she was scarcely aware of the so-brief tiny thing which enclosed her lower body, with its sweet nether intimacies, so light it was. These two garments, the brassiere and the panties, as we may think of them, not inaccurately, had both been, of course, purchased at the ship’s shop. It had required great courage for her to buy them. Had the salesgirl not looked at her askance, or had she imagined it? None, of course, would know that she had purchased them, only herself. Did the salesgirl wear such things? Had there been anything strange, or disapproving, in her expressions, in her tone of voice? Did the salesgirl, herself, wear such things, she wondered. They would be her secret, of course, her secret from all the world. She would never dare to show them to Tuvo Ausonius. He would be unwilling to let such a woman in his bed. Such a woman is rather such that she is to be chained at the foot of a bed.
He could not know, of course, that she wore such garments under the “same garb,” under the “frame and curtain.”
But she knew.
Hotly she regretted wearing such things.
Oh, she had put them on and off a dozen times in the privacy of her cabin, sometimes even daring to look at herself in the mirror. But surely the image could not be hers. Surely she could not be that lithe, graceful, curvaceous creature in the mirror. She had decided at last not to wear such things to the entertainment, but, when she had tried them on again, just for the last time, as she told herself, she realized suddenly, to her consternation, the time, and that, if she were to assure herself of a seat, she must best be on her way. Having no choice then she had put on the “same garb,” and the “frame-and-curtain,” over them, and hurried out.
How handsome was the bodyguard, how strong he seemed, how small she seemed, compared to him.
Then she sat straight on the tier. She was now pleased to have worn the intimate garments. No one could see them. And they were comfortable. That was a good reason to wear them. And no one could see them. Thus no one could ever guess what sort of woman she was, secretly.
The bodyguard was not far from her, over to her left, where one opening was in the tiers, that opposite the other, nearer the door.
Again their eyes met.
“Where is your collar?” he asked.
She stiffened, and pretended not to hear. He was referring, doubtless, to the necklace she had worn the night before. It would not go with the “same garb” and the “frame-and-curtain,” of course. Too, it was a necklace. It was not a collar. Collars were for slaves. He must know that.
The minor officer glared at the gladiator, but the gladiator met his gaze squarely, and not pleasantly, and the minor officer looked away.
The woman in the pantsuit leaned over to the officer of the court, and nodded her head, subtly, indicatively, toward the gladiator. “He finds you attractive,” she whispered confidingly, delightedly.
“‘Attractive’?” asked the officer of the court.
“Yes,” said her companion.
“I am of Terennia,” said the officer of the court. “I do not even understand such matters.”
“Very attractive,” whispered her companion.
“I am not in the least interested,” said the officer of the court.
“Why are you blushing?” asked her companion.
“I am not,” insisted the officer of the court, her skin aflame.
“He wants you,” whispered her companion.
“He is an illiterate brute,” said the officer of the court.
“He looks at you as though you were a common slave,” said her companion.
“Perhaps he will buy me,” said the officer of the court, acidly.
“And what man would not, if he could afford you?” said the woman.
The officer of the court did not deign to respond to this remark. The very thought of it, she, for sale!
“But perhaps he would merely bind and gag you, and carry you off,” she said.
“Perhaps,” said the officer of the court.
“He wants you,” she said.
“Let him want me then, in vain,” said the officer of the court.
“You might not speak so proudly,” she said, “if you were on your knees before him, naked, your
hands tied behind your back.”
“Please,” protested the officer of the court.
“And you would be made his slave,” she said.
The officer of the court trembled.
“And you would serve him well,” she said.
“Please,” said the officer of the court.
“He would see to it,” she said.
At this point the young naval officer was looking about the stands, and, to her pleasure, their eyes met. This gave her the much-desired opportunity to escape the humiliating embarrassments of her conversation with her companion on the tiers. The young officer would surely remember her from the captain’s table, the preceding evening. He would recall, too, the bit of purple accenting her sheath, which, so subtly, but nonetheless clearly,
