Magicians of Gor (16 page)

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 (pg. 91) 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 (pg. 92) 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.

(pg. 93) “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, was kneeling to his right.

At the front of the platform, after a pause, Myron began to speak. He spoke in a

clear, strong, resounding voice. His accent was Cosian, of course, but it was a

high-caste Cosian accent, intelligible to all. Too, he spoke deliberately, and

slowly. “I bring greetings,” said he, “from my ubar, your friend, Lurius of

Jad.” He then turned to Talena, who stood somewhat behind him, the hand of

Seremides on her arm, as though to supply her with perhaps much-needed kindly

support in these trying moments. “First,” said Myron, “I bring greetings from

Lurius of Jad to Talena of Ar, daughter of Marlenus of Ar, Ubar of Ubars!”

Talena inclined her head, accepting these greetings.

“Hail Cos!” cried a fellow in the crowd.

Myron now turned to the crowd.

The impressiveness of greeting Talena first, I had no doubt, had its

significance. Also, I noted that she was being accepted as the daughter of

Marlenus of Ar by Cos, in spite of the fact that Marlenus had disowned her. In

accepting her as the daughter of Marlenus, of course, Cos had made it reasonably

clear (pg. 94) that they would not be likely to challenge any claims she, or

others on her behalf, might make with respect to the succession in Ar. Also,

though I did not think Lurius of Jad himself would have approved of Marlenus

being spoken of as the ubar of ubars, as he perhaps thought that he himself

might better deserve that title, the reference seemed a judicious one on the

part of Myron. It was a clear appeal to patriotic sentiment in Ar. And,

naturally, this sort of reference to Marlenus would scarcely be expected to

tarnish the image of Talena, who was thus implicitly being characterized as the

daughter of the ubar of ubars.

“And greetings, too,” called Myron, “to our friends and brothers, the noble

people of Ar!”

The crowd looked at one another.

“Today,” said Myron, “you are free!”

“Hail Cos! Hail Ar!” cried a fellow in the crowd.

“The tyrant, our common enemy,” cried Myron, gesturing to Gnieus Lelius, “has

been defeated!”

“Kill him!” cried men in the crowd.

“To the walls with him!” cried a fellow.

“Fetch an impaling spear!” cried another.

“Peace, friendship, joy and love,” called Myron, “to out brothers in Ar!”

One of the members of the High Council, presumably its executive officer, who

would have had been directly subordinate to Gnieus Lelius, the regent, in a

civilian capacity, as Seremides would have been in a military capacity, stepped

forth to respond to Myron, but he was warned back by Seremides. “I speak on

behalf of Talena of Ar, daughter of Marlenus of Ar, Ubar of Ubars,” called

Seremides. “She, in her own name, and of the name of the people and Home Stone

of Ar, gives thanks to our friends and brothers of Cos, for the delivery of her

city from the tyranny of Gnieus Lelius and for the liberation of her people!”

At this point, doubtless by a prearranged signal, the great bars of the Central

Cylinder began to ring, and, in moments, so, too, did the other bars about the

city, near and far. But it seemed, too, then, for a time, one could scarcely

hear the bars, so loud, so unrestrained, so wild, so grateful, so elated and

tumultuous, were the cheers of the crowd.

“Hail Cos! Hail Ar!” we heard.

The cries seemed deafening.

On the platform Myron then, and the fellows with him, now reached into the

second package, seizing out handfuls of coins, even silver tarsks, and showered

them into the crowd. Men seized them as they could. Taurentians stepped back

from the (pg. 95) crowd’s perimeter. No longer was there danger of seething,

ignitable surgency. I noted that while Myron and his fellows scattered these

coins about, Seremides, waving to the crowd, and Talena, lifting her hand, too,

and the High Council, withdrew from the surface of the platform. Also, almost

unnoticed a squad of fellows from Cos ascended to the platform. The head of

Gnieus Lelius was pushed down to the platform. A chain, about two feet Gorean in

length, was put on his neck and attached to the short chain on his neck he could

not stand upright, but must, rather, remain bent over, deeply, from the waist. A

Taurentian then freed his neck of the heavy collar with the radiating chains, by

means of which the children had conducted him to the height of the platform.

Gnieus Lelius, then, former regent of Ar, in the motley rags suitable to a

comedic mime, his ankles shackled, his upper body wrapped in chains, bent far

over, held in this fashion by the short chain between his neck and ankles,

trying to keep his balance, taking short steps, was dragged by Cosians from the

platform on the leash. He fell twice in my view, after which incidents he was

struck by spear butts and pulled rudely again to his feet, to be again hastened,

with more blows, on his way south on the Avenue of the Central Cylinder. Some in

the crowd, seeing him as he passed, so clad, so hobbled, so helpless, so

conducted, pointed and roared with mirth; others cried out hatred and insults,

shrieked imprecations upon him, spat upon him, and tried to strike him. “Fool!”

cried some. “Buffoon!” cried some. “Tyrant! Tyrant!” cried others. Dressing

Gnieus Lelius in the garments of a comedic mime, in effect, a fool, a buffoon,

seemed to me a politic decision on the part of the party of treachery in Ar.

This would almost certainly preclude not only his return to power, if he should

manage to regain his freedom, but even the formation of a party that might favor

this. Indeed, even his closest supporters were inclined to grant his dupery.

Too, the party of treachery must have realized that many in Ar would know, or

surely eventually come to understand, that Gnieus Lelius, whatever might have

been his faults as a leader in a time of crisis, was a far cry from a tyrant. If

anything, his faults had been on the lines of tolerance, compromise and

permissiveness, policies which had allowed Cos and her partisans to operate

almost unopposed in the city, policies which had allowed Ar to be taken from

him, and from herself. No, they would be likely to say to themselves, he was not

a tyrant, but, indeed, he was perhaps a fool.

“Tyrant! Tyrant!” cried men.

Lurius of Jad, of course, would know that Gnieus Lelius was not a tyrant.

“Tyrant!” cried men. “Tyrant!”

I looked after Gnieus Lelius.

I assumed he would be taken to Cos.

Perhaps he would eventually adorn the court of Lurius of Jad, as a chained fool.