I tried to pull my wrists away, angrily. I could not, of course, free myself. I hated men, and their strength.
Targo himself had now grown more and more irritable.
'Let me go!' I cried. 'Let me go!'
But I could not free myself.
Once again Targo tried to speak to me, patiently, slowly. I could tell that he was growing furious.
He was a fool, such a tiresome fool. They were all fools. None of them seemed to understand English. One, at least, of the men on the black ship had spoken English. I had heard him converse with the large man. There must be many, then, on this world, many!
I was tired of Targo.
'I do not understand you,' I told him, sounding out each word, with great contempt and coldness. Then I looked away, loftily. I had put him in his place. He said something to a subordinate.
Instantly I was stripped before him.
I screamed. The girls at the wagon tongue laughed.
'Kajira!' cried one of the men, pointing at my thigh.
Every inch of me blushed red. 'Kajira!' laughed Targo. 'Kajira!' laughed the others. I heard the girls at the wagon tongue laughing, and clapping their hands.
Tears were running out of Targo's eyes, tiny in the fat of his face. Then, suddenly, he seemed angry.
He spoke again, sharply.
I was thrown forward on my face and stomach on the grass. The two men who had been holding my wrists continued to do so, but they held them apart and over my head, pressed down to the grass. Two other men came and held my ankles apart, they, too, pressed down to the grass.
'Lana!' cried Targo.
One of the other men went to the wagon tongue. I could not see what he did there. But I heard a girl laugh. In a moment she had left the wagon tongue and was standing somewhere behind me.
I had been a spoiled, pampered child. The governesses and nurses who had raised me had scolded me, and frequently, but they had never struck me. They would have been dismissed immediately. In all my life I could not remember ever having been struck.
Then I was whipped.
The girl struck, with her small fierce strength, again and again, over and over, viscously, fiercely, as hard as she could, again and again. I cried out, and screamed and sobbed, and struggled. The handful of slender leather straps was merciless. I bit at the grass. I could not breathe. I could not see for tears. Again and again! 'Please stop!' I cried. But then I could cry out no longer. There was only the grass and the tears and the pain of the straps, striking again and again.
I suppose the beating lasted normally for only a few seconds, surely not for more than a minute.
Targo said something to the girl, Lana, and the stinging rain of leather stopped.
The two men at my ankles released them. The two men who held my wrists pulled me up to my knees. I must have been in shock. I could not focus my eyes. I heard the girls laughing at the wagon tongue. I threw up on the grass. The men pulled me away from where I had vomited and another, from behind, holding my hair, pushed my face down to the ground, to the clean grass, and, turning my head, wiped the vomit from my mouth and chin.
Then I was pulled again up and placed, on my knees, the men holding my wrists, before Targo.
I looked up at him.
I saw that he now held my clothing in one hand. I scarcely recognized it. He was looking down at me. In his other hand I saw, dangling, the handful of straps with which I had been beaten. The girl was now being returned by one of the men to her position at the wagon tongue. The entire back of my body, my legs, my arms, my shoulders, was afire. I could not take my eyes from the straps. The two men released my wrists.
'Kajira,' said Targo.
He lifted the straps.
I shook. I thrust my head to the grass at his feet.
I took his sandal in my hands and pressed my lips down on his foot, kissing it. I heard laughter from the girls.
He must not have me beaten again!
I must please him.
I kissed his foot again, trembling, sobbing. He must be pleased with me, he must be pleased with me!
I sobbed, raising my head and looking after him.
I was seized from behind by the two men who had held my wrists. I watched Targo's retreating back. I did not dare call out to him. he was no longer interested in me. The two men dragged me to the wagon tongue.
There were ten girls on one side, nine on the other.
I saw the girl who had beaten me, Lana, some position ahead of me. I noted, suddenly, that she was harnessed. There were buckled straps on her wrists, fastening her in place. And about her body, in a broad loop, passing over her left shoulder and across her right hip, was a wide, heavy leather strap, which was bolted into the wagon tongue. The other girls were similarly fastened. Buckled straps were placed on her wrists, fastening her in place. And about her body, in a broad loop, passing over her left shoulder and across her right hip, was a wide, heavy leather strap, which was bolted into the wagon tongue. The other girls were similarly fastened. Buckled straps were placed on my wrists. Over my shoulder, about my body, was passed a heavy loop of leather. I sobbed. I seemed scarcely able to stand. My legs trembled. The entire back of my body stung terribly. I tasted my tears.
The man began to adjust the strap on my body.
Near me, across from me, a short girl, with dark hair, very red lips, and bright dark eyes, smiled at me.
'Ute,' repeated the short, dark-haired girl, pointing to herself. Then she again pointed at me. 'La?' she asked.
I saw that the girls harnessed at the wagon tongue wore, on their left thighs, the same make that I wore on mine.
I jerked at the straps on my wrists. I was secured.
'Ute,' repeated the short, dark-haired girl, pointing at herself. Then she again pointed at me. 'La?' she inquired.
The man cinched the strap on my body. It was snug. Then he stepped away from me. I was harnessed.
'La?' persisted the dark-haired girl, pointing at me with her strapped hand. 'La?'
'Elinor,' I whispered.
'EL-in-or,' she repeated, smiling. Then, facing the other girls, she pointed at me. 'El-in-or,' she said, pleased. She seemed delighted.
For some reason, I was utterly grateful, that this short, lovely girl should be pleased by my name.
Most of the other girls merely turned, and regarded me, not much interested. The girl, Lana, who had beaten me, did not even turn. Her head was in the air. Another girl, a tall, blondish girl, some two positions ahead of me and on my left, smiled, 'Inge,' she said, indicating herself.
I smiled.
Targo was now crying out orders. He was looking about, apprehensively. One of his men shouted. The girls leaned forward into the traces, pulling at the wagon. Two of his men thrust at the rear wheels.
The wagon began to move.
I leaned against the leather strap, pretending to pull. They did not need me to pull the wagon. They had pulled it before. I dug my feet into the grass, as though straining. I grunted a little, to add to the effect.
Ute, at my right, cast a glance, an unpleasant one. Her little body was straining at the strap.
I did not care.
I cried out with pain, and humiliation, as the switch struck my body. Ute laughed.
I threw all my weight against the strap, sobbing, pushing with all my might. The wagon was moving now.
In a minute or so I saw the girl Lana switched, as I had been, below the small of the back. She cried out with humiliation and pain, left with a stinging red stripe. The other girls, I among them, laughed. I gathered Lana was not popular. I was pleased that she, too, had been switched. She was a slacker! Why should the rest of us pull of her? Was she better than we?
'Har-ta!' cried Targo. 'Har-ta!'
'Har-ta!' cried the men about us.
The girls began to push harder. We strained, to increase the speed of the wagon. From time to time the men would thrust, too, at the wheels.
We cried out with pain as two of the men, about the sides, one on each side, encouraged us with their switches.
We could pull no harder. And yet we were struck. I dared not protest. The wagon lumbered over the grassy fields.
Targo walked beside us. I would have thought he would have ridden in the wagon, but he did not. He wanted it as light as it could be, even though it meant he, the leader, must walk. How I dreaded it when he would cry 'Har-ta!' for then we would be switched again.
I sobbed in the straps, under the switch.
But I was Elinor Brinton, of park Avenue, of Earth! She had been rich, beautiful, smartly attired, tasteful, sophisticated; she had been well educated and traveled; she had been decisive, confident; she had carried her wealth and her beauty with A©lan; and she had deserved her position in society; it had been rightfully hers, for she had been gifted, high-order, superbly intelligent individual, an altogether superior person! She deserved everything that she had had! Whatever she had had she should have had, for she was that kind of person! That was the kind of person she was!
I glanced at Ute.
She regarded me, unpleasantly. She had not forgotten that I had shirked. She looked away, disgusted.
I was angry. I did not care. Who was she? A fool! On such a world as this it was every girl for herself! Every girl for herself!
'Har-ta!' cried Targo.
'Har-ta!' cried the men about us.
We cried out again, stung by the switches. I threw my full weight against the leather, digging my feet into the grass.
I sobbed.
