“No,” said Marlenus. “You are an outlaw.”
“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman! I am a woman!”
“No,” said Marlenus. “You have only a body of a woman. inside your body you are a man.” “No!” she wept. “No! Inside I am a woman! I am woman!” “Is it true?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes, yes!” wept Verna.
“You acknowledge yourself a female then,” asked Marlenus, “within as well as without.” “Yes,” cried Verna. “I am a female!” “Completely?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes,” cried Verna, “I am completely a female.”
“And not a man as well?” pressed Marlenus.
“I am completely and only a female,” wept Verna.
“Then,” said Marlenus, “it seems we should not hamstring you as an outlaw.” Verna’s body shuddered with relief. She shook in the arms of her captors. But they did not release her.
“Then,” said Marlenus, “you may be hamstrung for being an escaped slave girl.” Terror sprang anew into Verna’s eyes.
It was true. The second penalty for an escaping girl, one who has fled before, is not uncommonly hamstringing. I had seem hamstrung girls, begging, piteous in the streets of Ar. It was not a pleasant sight.
“Hamstring the slave,” said Marlenus.
“Master!” screamed Verna. “Master!”
Marlenus hand indicated that the knife, poised, hesitate. The words that she had spoken stunned us, all save Marlenus. She had called him Master.
The huntsmen held the slave.
“Please, Master!” wept Verna. “Do not hurt me! Do not hurt me!”
“The slave begs for mercy,” said one of the huntsmen.
“Is this true?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes, Master,” wept Verna. “I am yours. I am your girl. I am your slave. I beg for mercy. I beg for mercy, Master!” “Release her,” said Marlenus. The huntsmen resheathed his sleen knife. The others released the girl. She knelt on the ground, her head down, her hair forward, her shoulders and body shaking, trembling with terror.
The other girls, too, were frightened. Verna’s girls, in their panther skins, chained by their right ankle. Hura, and Mira, too, were shaken.
Verna had been shattered. Her pride, her obstinacy were gone.
She looked up at Marlenus, as a slave girl looks to the eyes of a master. She knew then she was his.
Without being told, she went to the collar, lying in the dirt, which Marlenus had cast aside. Trembling, she picked it up and knelt before Marlenus. She handed him the collar. There were tears in her eyes.
Marlenus wiped the collar on his sleeve. A length of binding cord was brought. Verna knelt back on her heels. She lifted her arms to Marlenus, wrists crossed. She lowered her head between her arms.
“I submit myself,” she said.
The collar was locked on her throat. Her hands were tied.
She lowered her bound wrists and lifted her head to Marlenus. “I am your girl,” she said, “Master.” Marlenus turned to a subordinate. “Have her cleaned and combed,” he said. “And perfume her.” She put down her head.
“Then put her in yellow pleasure silk,” he said, “fresh silk, and place bells on her left ankle.” “Yes, Ubar,” said the man.
Marlenus was regarding the slave who knelt before him, her head down. “And have her ears pierced,” said Marlenus, “and fix in them earrings of gold, large ones.” “Yes, Ubar,” said the man.
The slave, conquered, did not so much as lift her head. It would be done to her, what her master wished.
“And tonight,” said Marlenus, “when she is sent to my tent, see that she wears lipstick.” “It will be done as you say, Ubar,” said the man. He looked down at Verna. “Come with me, Girl,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said, and was led away.
I recalled the flaminium, in the grip of Marlenus.
“These other slaves,” said Marlenus, indicating Verna’s former girls, “take them away.” Frightened, on their chain, they were herded away. There was not one of them but what knew that what had happened to Verna might have happened to any one of them. I suspected that each of them would be very conscious that night of the ring locked on their right ankle, and the chain that fastened them to the two stakes.
“May we leave, Ubar?” asked Hura.
Marlenus looked upon Hura and Mira. They were very conscious that they were women that stood among men.
“Yes,” said Marlenus.
The two women, in their brief skins, hurried to the gate, which was opened to let them pass. Outside, the panther girls were waiting for them. Hura, Mira, and Hura’s band swiftly disappeared in the forest.
They did not remain long in the vicinity of the camp of Marlenus, Ubar of Ar. ”Think, Ubar,” I said, “that I choose to return to my ship soon, at the banks of the Laurius.” “You are welcome to leave when you wish,” said Marlenus, “but enjoy my hospitality another day.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Do we not have a game on the board?” “Yes,” I smiled. “We do.” I had almost forgotten the game we had scarcely begun, before we had heard the cry at the gate, heralding Hura’s return of an escaped slave girl.
At the entrance to Marlenus’ tent, I stopped.
Marlenus looked at me.
“Ubar,” said I, “if the girl Verna had not cried out for mercy, if she had not wept and yielded herself, completely and utterly, to you as slave, would you have truly done what you threatened?” “I do not understand,” said Marlenus.
“Would you truly have hamstrung her?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Marlenus. “I am a Ubar.”
“When you leave,” said Marlenus, regarding the board, “it is my wish that you go to your ship.” It was his move.
“That is my intention,” I said.
“It is not my wish,” said Marlenus, “that you fare forth to an exchange point to set free a former citizen of Ar.” “I understand,” I said.
“I, as her former Ubar, will treat of that business,” said Marlenus. She had much shamed him. I did not envy the girl, Talena.
“What is your intention with regard to her?” I asked.
“She will be kept in Ar,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
Marlenus looked up. “Put her from your mind,” he said. “She is unworthy of a free man.” I nodded. It was true what he had said. Talena, once the beautiful daughter of a great Ubar, shamed and disowned, was now nothing. No longer did she have family. No longer did she have position, wealth and power. She was now nothing. She now had only her beauty, and that wore a brand. Even if she were freed, she would not, in virtue of the disownment, have a caste. The lowest peasant wench on Gor, secure in her caste rights, would be far above her. Talena, once the marvelous and beautiful Talena, was now nothing. She was nothing, nothing.
No longer was she a desirable match. No longer was she acceptable, no longer was she suitable.
She was nothing.
Marlenus and I, Goreans, sat across the board from one another.
“A slave, said a man, standing outside the tent.
“Send her in,” said Marlenus, studying the board. I looked up.
Verna was stunningly beautiful. Her hair, long and blond, was loosed and combed back. she wore a bit of yellow pleasure silk, very short and diaphanous. It clung to her, sweet with her breathing. On her left ankle, locked, were slave bells. I caught the scent of her perfume, a delicate Torian scent, feminine. She wore lipstick. She carried wine.
She was one of the most beautiful female slaves I had ever seen.
Marlenus lifted his head and regarded her. Her breathing quickened. “Put down the wine,” said Marlenus, “and step before us.” The girl did so.
“Lift your hair away from your ears,” said Marlenus, “and turn your head from side to side.” Verna displayed the earrings, large and gold, which had been fastened in her ears.
They were beautiful.
“Remove the silk,” said Marlenus, ”and face us.”
The slave did so.
She stood beautifully. She did not stand as might have Cara, or another girl, who had well known the touch of a man, but she did stand as though owned. The resistance was gone from her shoulders and diaphragm. Even the palms of her hands, naturally now fell at her thighs, her left palm over her brand. She had not been taught to stand in this fashion. The difference, subtle and interesting, had been accomplished in the enslavement of the afternoon… Now, naturally, unaware of it, she stood as a slave girl. She knew now she stood before the man who was her complete master, open to him, his slave. She stood as a slave, because she now knew herself as a slave, and this knowledge was reflected, inevitably, in her stance. It was natural that she now stand as a slave. She was a slave.
“Turn,” said Marlenus.
Verna did so, gracefully, obediently. She stood, facing away from us. “You see?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes,” I said.
Verna knew that she was beautiful. Moreover, she knew that her beauty was now being surveyed, candidly, by two free men. I could sense, in her breathing, and her carriage, that this excited her. It may well have excited her, for she was a mere slave, and belonged to one of the men present. A girl in a collar, as it is said, is not permitted inhibitions.
