craned her neck. She could still see, I thought, very little. The close-fitting steel collar was lovely on her throat. The collar, with its lock, muchly enhances a woman's beauty.
In a moment a large bipedialian saddle tharlarion, in golden panoply, its nails polished, its scales brushed bright, wheeled to a halt before the standard bearers. Behind it came several other tharlarion, resplendent, too, but lesser in size and panoply, with riders. Myron, or he who was acting on his behalf, then, by means of a dismounting stirrup, not the foot stirrup, the rider's weight lowering it, descended to the ground. It was curious to see him, as I had heard much of him. He was a tall man, in a golden helmet, plumed, too, in gold, and a golden cloak. He was personally armed with the common gladius, the short sword, the most common infantry weapon on Ar, and a dagger. In a saddle sheath, remaining there, was a longer weapon, a two-handed scimitar, the two- handed scimitarus, useful for reaching other riders on tharlarion. There was no lance in the saddle boot. He removed his helmet and handed it to one of his fellows. He seemed a handsome fellow, with long hair. I recalled he had once been under the influence of the beautiful slave, Lucilina, even to the point of consulting her in matters of state. She had been privy to many secrets. Indeed, her influence over the polemarkos had been feared, and her favor had been courted even by free men. Her word or glance might mean the difference between advancement and neglect, between honor and disgrace. Then Dietrich of Tarnburg had arranged for her to be kidnapped and brought to him, stripped. He had soon arranged for her to be emptied of all sensitive information. He had then renamed her 'Luchita, an excellent name for a slave and quite different from the prestigious name 'Lucilina, which might have graced a free woman. He had then given her to one of his lowest soldiers, as a work and pleasure slave. The last time I had seen her had been in Brundisium, among the slaves belonging to various mercenaries, men of the company of a fellow who was then identifying himself as Edgar, of Tarnwald. I did not know where this Edgar, of Tarnwald, now was, nor his men. I suspected that by now Myron had come to understand, and to his chagrin, how he had been the pliant dupe of a female, and even one who was a slave. I did not think it likely that this would happen again. He now doubtless had a much better idea of the utilities and purposes of females.
Myron, now, as I suppose it was Myron, with two fellows behind him, each bearing a package, ascended the platform.
Seremides approached him and, drawing his sword from its sheath, extended it to him, hilt first.
'Myron does not accept his sword!' said a man.
Myron, indeed, with a magnanimous gesture, had demurred to accept the weapons of Seremides, the high general of Ar. Seremides now sheathed the sword.
'Hail Cos! Hail Ar!' whispered a fellow.
The crowd then hushed as Seremides extended his hand to Talena and conducted her before Myron, her head down.
'Poor Talena,' whispered a man.
The daughters of conquered ubars often grace the triumphs of victorious generals. This may be done in many ways. Sometimes they are marched naked at their stirrups, in chains; sometimes they are marched similarly but among slaves holding other loot, golden vessels, and such; sometimes they are displayed on wagons, or rolling platforms, caged with she-verr or she-tarsks, and so on. Almost always they will be publicly and ceremoniously enslaved, either before or after the triumph, either in their own city or in the city of the conqueror. Myron, however, bowed low before Talena, in this perhaps saluting the loftiness and honorableness of her status, that of the free female.
'I do not understand,' said Marcus.
'Wait,' I said.
'Will he not now strip her and have her put in chains?' asked Marcus.
'Watch,' I said.
'She will be in his tent, as one of his women, before nightfall,' he said. 'Watch,' I said.
'To be sure,' he said, 'perhaps she will be kept for the pleasure gardens of Lurius of Jad, or the kennels if his house slaves, if she was not beautiful enough for his pleasure gardens.'
'Watch a moment,' I said.
Talena, as I knew, was an exquisitely beautiful female, with that olive skin, and dark eyes and hair. I did not doubt but what she was worthy of a ubar's pleasure gardens, and even if, all things considered, she was not quite of that quality, she would still, undoubtedly, find herself there. Allowances are often made for special women, former enemies, and such, and I had little doubt that an allowance of one sort or another would be made for a ubar's daughter, or one taken to be such. It must be remembered, too, that the contents of a pleasure garden are not necessarily always viewed in only one light. For example, such a garden may contain women who are, in a sense, primarily trophies. Surely Talena might count, say, from the standpoint of a Lurius of Jad, as such a trophy. Indeed, some men, collectors, use their gardens mainly for housing their collections, say, of different types of women, selected perhaps primarily with an eye to illustrating, and exhibiting, various forms of female beauty, or, indeed, even for their unique or rare brands.
Myron then turned about to one of the two fellows who had ascended the ramp with him, each of which held a package.
'What is in the package?' asked a man.
'A slave collar, slave bracelets, shackles, such things,' said a man.
'No, look!' said a man.
'Ai!' said Marcus.
Myron, from the package held by one of the two fellows who had ascended the ramp with him, drew forth a shimmering veil. He shook this out and displayed it to the crowd.
'It is the veil of a free woman!' said a man.
Myron handed this to Talena, who accepted it.
'I do not understand,' said Marcus.
'It will be all she will be given,' said a man, angrily.
'A Cosian joke,' said another, 'then to be removed from her when they wish.'
'Cosian sleen,' said a man.
'We must fight,' said another.
'We cannot fight,' said another. 'It is hopeless.'
Another fellow moaned.
Myron then, however, from the same package, drew forth a set of the ornate robes of concealment, displaying these to the crowd, as he had done with the veil. These, too, he then delivered to Talena.
'Why are they giving her such garments?' asked a man.
'They are Cosian garments,' said a man.
'Perhaps it is that Lurius of Jad is to be the first to look upon her fully, in his pleasure chambers,' said a man.
'Woe is Talena,' whispered a man.
'Woe is us, woe is Ar!' said another.
'We must fight,' said the man, again.
'No, it is hopeless!' said the other.
'No, see!' said another. 'He again bows before her. Myron, the polemarkos, bows before our Talena!'
Talena then bowed her head, too, as though shyly, gratefully, before the polemarkos.
'She accepts his respects!' said a man.
'It seems she now wishes to withdraw,' said a man.
'Poor modest little Talena!' said another.
To be sure, it seemed that Talena now, overcome with modesty, clutching the garments to her gratefully with one hand and with the other seeming to try to pull down the white robes, to more cover her bared feet, wished to leave the platform.
The hand of Seremides however gently stayed her.
'Modest Talena!' exclaimed a man.
'She is not a slave,' said another, glaring angrily at Phoebe who, frightened, in her slave tunic, pressed herself more closely against Marcus.
'Myron will speak,' said a man.
The polemarkos, or him I took to be he, then advanced to the front of the platform. Gnieus Lelius, chained,
