'Nothing,' I said.
He looked down at the free woman, Lady Cara, of Venna, kneeling beside the desk. 'I need contentment,' he said.
She straightened herself, with a tiny sound of chain.
'You may leave, Captain,' he said.
'Sir,' I said.
'Yes?' he said.
'Recently; on the Genesian Road, north of Torcadino, there was an attack on a portion of the Cosian supply trains, a massacre. Were your men responsible for that?'
'No,' he said.
'Do you know what party, or parties, were?' I asked.
'No,' he said. 'But it was done by mercenaries,' I said.
'Doubtless,' he said.
I then turned about and went toward the door. 'Oh!' said Lady Cara. I heard the sounds of her chains. At the door, turning, I saw her on her feet, naked, in her chains, being held closely against him, looking up into his eyes. Then he threw her on her belly on the desk, on the papers, and the various documents of state. I then took my leave.
16 A Night in the Semnium
I turned in the blankets, brought by soldiers, on the tiles of the vestibule of the Semnium. There were perhaps two hundred people, many of them civilians, being housed there this night. Near me, a free female, one of those to be counted among the spoils of Torcadino, was chained on one of the client's marble benches, one of several serving on such benches, women who, one after the other, in turn, were replaced by others.
I was troubled. I wished to go to Ar, but I had my own business there. I did not think I needed a mercenary's coins to buy my way there. Too, as an unknown fellow, it seemed I might be able to enter her gates without great difficulty. Letters of safety, aside from the difficulties they might involve me with Cosian sentries or outposts, which might be considerable, would presumably not be needed by everyone entering Ar. To be sure, if I wished to enter the presence of the first minister, or the high general, they might be of some use, but the letters for them, sealed with the sign of the silver tarn, might do as well. Besides, if I chose not to deliver these letters, who would know the difference. Others may have defaulted, for some reason or another, in this, or a similar mission. The officer, at any rate, seemed not, as yet, at least, to have received replies to such missives.
The woman on the bench, groaning and ravished, on her belly on it, clutching it, her legs chained on either side of it, was now alone. She lay on the cool marble, clutching it. 'Master, Master!' she had wept. Nearby, to her right, and my right, only feet way, almost at our elbows, some sitting, some lying down, crowded together, chained, huddled, in the half darkness, illuminated by a tiny lamp on the wall, against one wall of the Semnium, was a large group of choice free women, probably gathered here as the cream of Torcadino's free flesh loot, doubtless to be distributed as gifts in the near future. Most would doubtless go to high officers and agents. Some on the other hand, I supposed, perhaps lesser beauties, might receive a different disposition, being bestowed perhaps on local civilian supporters or given as good-will emoluments to suppliers and contractors.
Nearby, Hurtha and Boabissia were asleep. Mincon, apparently a trusted agent of his captain, had quarters, or business, elsewhere. His Tula he had taken with him. Feiqa was now far to the left, against the far wall, chained there by the ankle with a number of other slaves. They did not wish to mix the slaves and the free females. From her collar there was suspended a small rectangle of cardboard. This was attached to the collar by a small, closed-looped string. This is first put through a hole in the cardboard and drawn through itself, fastening it to the cardboard; it is then passed under or over the collar, the cardboard thrust through it, and then pulled down, snugly, about the collar, the cardboard now dangling from it. On the cardboard there was a number, matching a number on a similar piece of cardboard now in my wallet. By means of this tag I would claim her in the morning.
I wondered why the officer had not, as yet, received any replies to his messages. Perhaps, of course, the message had gotten through. Perhaps it was only that the recipients did not deign to reply, or that their replies, perhaps, had been intercepted.
The woman on the bench moaned, holding it. Elsewhere I saw another woman being removed from a similar bench, and being returned to the common chain.
I wondered if some of these women had been here before, perhaps as clients, or petitioners or even witnesses. I supposed so. It seemed likely.
A new female was brought to the further bench. She was sat upon it, straddling it. Her ankles were chained together beneath it. Her wrists were similarly secured, the length of chain running under the heavy, fixed-position marble bench. She was then, by the hair, drawn forward, to lie upon her belly on the cool marble.
All of these women, I suspected, had been in the Semnium before, in one fashion or another, or for one purpose or another, if only to meet friends or to examine and admire the interior appointments and mosaics. It is, after all, one of Torcadino's great buildings. But doubtless none of them had ever before been here in their present capacity, casual love meat set forth for the delectation of passers-by, or even of the idle or curious.
A new woman was being brought to the common chain now, to a place quite near me. She was a dark- haired, sweetly bodied beauty. On her neck was a hempen leash. Her hands were tied behind her back. In a moment she wore a heavy collar, and was on the chain. Her leash was then unknotted, and, with a quick, whiplike motion, as she winced, jerked away from her. Her hands, too, then, were freed. She was now on the chain, and no different from the others.
The woman on the bench near to me whimpered. She moved her body a little on the cool marble, piteously, clutching it with her hands, her legs chained on either side of the smooth, inflexible expanse.
The woman who had just been added to the chain rubbed her wrists. Apparently she had not been tied gently. I wondered if she, a free woman, not yet a slave, had dared to express less than total deference before a man, or if she were important.
'Mother,' whispered a voice, from among the other captives, 'is it you?' 'Is it you?' whispered the new woman, startled, wildly, turning about. 'Yes,' said the other. 'Yes!'
'Daughter!' she whispered.
The other, with a movement of chain, crawling, emerged from the other captives. They embraced, on their knees, weeping.
'Be quiet,' said another woman, whispering. 'Do you want us to be beaten?' 'Mother! Mother!' wept the girl. 'Daughter!' wept the woman.
'Be quiet,' said the other woman.
'Are we permitted to speak?' asked the daughter, fearfully.
'We have not been told we may not speak,' said another woman. 'But I would not be too loud about it. Do not draw attention to yourselves.'
'I do not even know if I may speak to you or not,' sobbed the girl.
'We are women,' said her mother. 'If men do not wish us to speak, they will tell us, with their whips.'
'Mother, mother,' wept the girl, holding her.
'I had thought you might have escaped,' said the older woman.
'No,' said the girl. 'The collar is on my neck.'
'Who are you?' asked the mother.
'437,' whispered the girl. 'Who are you?'
'I am 261,' she said. She then drew back, holding her daughter at arm's length. 'You see?' she said. 'You may read it upon my breast.'
'As you may read mine upon mine,' said the daughter.
They then again embraced, sobbing, on their knees.
'What has become of us?' sobbed the girl.
'It is a common fate for women,' she said.
