Conspirators of Gor (86 page)

The men, too, of course, muchly resented this deprivation. In time I had little doubt that many would prove to be dangerously frustrated. Gorean men tended to be strong, energetic, ambitious, possessive, impatient, and sexually aggressive. Often little more than honor stood between a Gorean free woman and a chain. The needs of such males, of course, often ignored by, and perhaps not even understood by, Gorean free women, at least in their intensity, were muchly assuaged by the presence of kajirae in their midst, available in the markets, the slave houses, the taverns, and so on. The man whose sexual needs are well satisfied tends to be content, and he who is content is commonly happy, and he who is happy has no need to disrupt his society, hurt others, or prey on his fellows. I have no doubt that the presence of kajirae in Gorean society has much to do not only with its naturalness, for men desire slaves and slaves long for masters, but also with its general harmony, security, and stability.

Too, I have little doubt that the kajira, like the colorful buildings and soaring bridges, the spacious parks and wide boulevards, adds to the charm of Gor. See her, lovely, collared, half-clad, and graceful, bearing her burdens, shopping, hurrying home to her master! She is radiant. She is owned. It is little wonder that many cities, as they might boast of the might of their draft tharlarion, the stamina of their saddle tharlarion, the swiftness of their kaiila, the tenacity and prowess of their hunting sleen, boast of the beauty of their slaves. When foreign ambassadors are in a city masters are particularly encouraged to parade their slaves. When embassies are exchanged with enemy municipalities the banquets are almost always served by naked slaves. For example, if those of Ar visit Treve, the banquet will almost certainly be served by stripped women once of Ar, now in the collar of Trevan masters, which courtesy is returned, of course, should those of Treve visit Ar, where the free men of Treve will be served by stripped women once of Treve, now in the collars of their masters, men of Ar. This is not as insulting as it might be thought, as Gorean men are generally agreed that women are women, and slaves are slaves. What does it matter in what city a woman wears her collar? She is a slave.

As one from a different world, a grayer, more dismal, more crowded, more polluted world, a mass world of homogenized humanity, a world in which excellence is suspect, and must be concealed, a world of cunning and greed, of envy and duplicity, of hatred and fanaticism, a world alien to honor, a world without Home Stones, I have been much impressed by the Gorean pride in person and achievement. Here human magnificence is prized, provided it be well used and honestly earned. Goreans are wary of the Priest-Kings, but, on the whole, leave them to their devices in the Sardar. Let the gods live their lives; let men live theirs.

I was sure that the Kurii did not realize the possible consequences which might attend denying kajirae to Gorean males, men accustomed, almost from the ceremony of citizenship, when they are allowed to hold and kiss the Home Stone, to having such conveniences inexpensively at hand.

Late one night four fellows, with a lamp, broke into the slave quarters. They shook the cages, dragged them about, rattled the bars, but, lacking tools, they could not open them. Some of the girls thrust their arms through the bars, to have them covered with kisses, or pressed their face to the bars, and gripped the bars, that the force of the kisses received might not force them back into the cage. I tried to make myself small in the cage, and shrank back, as men reached through the bars. I had marks on my ankle and one wrist, where they had been grasped. I had a bruise on my left cheek when it had been pulled forward against the bars, by the hair. Then Kurii rushed into the area and the men fled. Two were captured, and put under the snake. Neither died.

“Kajirae,” said Nora, “gather about.”

We hurried to kneel in her presence, in the slave quarters. She had just returned from the halls.

“Matters outside grow ugly,” said Nora. “I fear we are safe, if at all, only in our cages. Altercations take place betwixt men and the beasts. No killing is done yet, for the men lack weapons. They insult the beasts. Happily, few of the beasts understand little other than impatience and disgruntlement. Otherwise heads might be torn away. As it is, several arms and legs have been broken, and men have been swept aside, dashed into walls. There is grumbling. I think the beasts do not understand what is wrong. The men hunger, but not for food, for slaves. They are starving men of slaves, and slaves of masters. It is a punitive thing emanating somehow from the high Kurii, those of golden chains. It affects the beasts, as well, restrictions and refusals. This began, I fear, with the high Kur, Lucius, and now, it seems, a prisoner who was to have been executed escaped, and two Kurii were killed outside the Cave. It is suspected collusion took place. Was the escape abetted? Are there traitors in the Cave? It seems all must suffer. Ela, much of this you know, but I now bring you more dreadful news.”

“Mistress?” said Chloe.

Nora seemed unable to continue. She looked about herself, as though fearful that the walls might hear, and speak what heard.

“Please, Mistress,” said Jane.

“It is said,” said Nora, “that there is a conspiracy of men within the Cave to thwart the projects of the hirsute masters.”

I suddenly became very frightened.

“It has been long suspected by the high Kurii,” she said. “Random executions have been contemplated.”

“May I speak, Mistress?” I said.

“All of you, while we are alone,” she said, “have such a permission.” I recalled Nora had not been so generous, before she had found herself at the slave ring of Kleomenes. On a chain many a woman has been softened, and improved. It is hard to be an imitation man on a chain.

“What is different now?” I asked. “Why is it now said that such a conspiracy exists?”

“There is an informer,” she said.

A gasp escaped us.

“It seems pressures were great,” said Nora. “Scrutiny becomes intense. What move could be made? What could be done? The least movement, the least breath of air, might not escape vigilance. How much was already known to the golden chains? Perhaps the net was already flung. Perhaps the cords were inexorably being drawn tight. It must have seemed only a matter of time, and perhaps a very little time, before the plot and its participants would be exposed. Who would be the first to save himself at the expense of others?”

“Who was the informer?” asked Jane.

“Desmond, Desmond of Harfax,” said Nora.

“No!” I cried.

“It seems so,” said Nora.

“It cannot be!” I said.

“It is his name which is spoken,” said Nora.

I recalled that Desmond of Harfax had once said to me, “It is clear how at least one might survive.”

“How?” I had asked.

“By betraying the rest,” he had said.

Chapter Forty-Seven

A double guard, though it was daylight, had been placed at the mouth of the Cave. It was thus, in effect, sealed.

It had been announced, yesterday, that all conspirators had twenty Ahn in which to surrender themselves, before their names would be revealed to the high Kurii by Desmond of Harfax, who, in full nobility, had come forward voluntarily to perform his bounden duty to his superiors.

He had apparently made the stipulation that he would reveal the names of the conspirators only to Agamemnon himself, thus assuring himself that all would be done fully and properly, without any confusion or mistake, and, also, naturally, one supposes, that he, Desmond of Harfax, would then be recognized personally by a grateful Agamemnon as the informant, and would, thus, be certain to receive his proper reward.

The twenty allotted Ahn, of course, had now passed without incident. Certainly no one had come forward, surrendering himself to the golden chains.

“Free person!” cried Nora.

The kajirae in the slave quarters went immediately to first obeisance position. I did not even know who had entered.

“Allison,” said a woman’s voice, one I well recognized, but had not heard for months.

“Mistress,” I said, looking up, seeing the Lady Bina. It was clear she was free, but she was not well robed. It was different from Ar, and even from the more casual robing of the trail. The robe, I suspected, was of a single layer. It was brown, soiled, and ragged at the hem. It suggested the garment of a Peasant woman, who might work in the fields. Normally the Lady Bina was fastidious with respect to her garmenture. It came midway on her calves. She had fashioned for herself, from similar material, a hood, and veil. The veil was loose about her lower face, more a token of veiling than anything else. The Lady Bina, I supposed as much from vanity as impatience with some of the cultural niceties expected of the Gorean free woman, had always been lax in veiling. I again realized how exquisitely beautiful she was. I thought she might be in jeopardy, particularly now, if she were to traverse the halls alone. But she was not alone. A Kur was behind her. I realized with a start, though I should have expected it, that the Lady Bina was a prisoner.

“You are to come with me, Allison,” she said. “We are to witness the deposition of Desmond of Harfax.”

“I do not wish to do so,” I said.

“I am sorry,” she said.

“Why are we to do so?” I asked.

“They want witnesses who are not free men,” she said. “One of them might be implicated. We are chosen, I suppose, because he was in the employ of myself and Grendel, and you were in his keeping.”

The Lady Bina turned to the other kajirae in the room. “You may rise,” she said.

The beast with her turned toward the door.

“We are to go outside, Allison,” she said. “Desmond of Harfax is to be led down the hall shortly, to the Audience Chamber of Agamemnon. We are to follow.”

She preceded the Kur from the room, and I followed her, a bit behind, on the left, as befitted a slave. She was free. I would heel her.

Outside the door to the slave quarters the Kur stopped, and we, with him, stopped, and waited there. I knelt, and the Lady Bina stood. There were several men in the corridor, mostly along the sides. There were a few Kurii, too.

I saw the Lady Bina looked upon.

Surely it would have been better had she been clad in the Robes of Concealment. Many of the men, as far as I know, had never seen her before. I am sure many did not know what to make of her. Should there not be a collar on her neck? If there was, it would be concealed by the casual veiling she had arranged. But she was not camisked. Could she be free? It would seem so, for the comparative amplitude of her garmenture, but, too, it did not seem all that much, and it was fairly obvious that her robe was thin, and of but a single layer. Too, she was beautiful, surely slave beautiful, that beautiful. When men look upon such beauty it is natural for them to think, as well, of chains and the block.

I kept my head muchly down, and my knees closely together. Even so, I did not doubt but what, collared and camisked, and despite the proximity of the Lady Bina, I did not escape my share of attention.

The way the men were about, and near the sides of the hall, looking back down the hall, toward the direction from which Desmond of Harfax might approach, I was uneasy. It was too much like a gantlet. Almost none of those men, of course, had been at that perilous meeting called so long ago by Desmond of Harfax, at which, I, too, had been in attendance. I was sure they were no part of Master Desmond’s party. Yet, too, I sensed hostility amongst them. Goreans do not look lightly upon treachery. Too, even if they were not of Master Desmond’s party, most might have been sympathetic to any band of men who, in the face of the Kurii, might have dared to secretly enleague themselves. Certainly there was much disgruntlement in the Cave amongst the humans, and, as nearly as I could determine, amongst several of the Kurii as well. The new regulations chafed all.

Amongst the men I did see two who had been at the meeting, Trachinos and Akesinos.

I found it hard to believe that Desmond of Harfax would have betrayed his fellows. He had seemed to suspect that someone might do so. If this were inevitable, I supposed he thought the survivor might as well be he. How then could one blame him in such circumstances? Would not the rational agent seize such an opportunity before it was seized by another? Should he not be praised for his initiative, and astuteness? Yet I was muchly discountenanced by his decision. It did not seem like the Master Desmond I had thought I had known. I saw him now as tarnished. I had feared I was unworthy to be the slave of so fine a master. Now I did not even wish to belong to him. Had he not behaved as I might have expected a man not of Gor, but of Earth, cunning, self-seeking, and devoid of honor, to behave? Of Gor, was he not more of Earth than Gor?

I looked up, as I heard a ripple of awareness about me. Leaning forward I saw, approaching, Desmond of Harfax, followed by two Kurii, who occasionally bared their fangs threateningly, and growled, as men started to surge closer to their charge. Desmond was smiling, which seemed the more to anger the men about. He did not seem to notice frowns, and raised fists, nor did he see fit to respond to hissed insults, as he passed.

When he came to our place he paused and saluted the Lady Bina, who did not, as far as I know, return his salutation. I put my head down, as I did not want to look upon him. I felt my world had collapsed. What, now, could be believed? What, now, could remain in its place?