Ubara of Gor Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: The Secret History

“Matias, beloved!” cried the Lady Saffia in anguish as she ran on soft bare feet across the shingle towards the Cosian admiral who in his defeat was preparing to surrender his sword to Brinn. Lady Saffia got perhaps halfway across the beach in her tear stained desire to reach the loving arms of her Free Companion before she was pulled up short by an Askari who seized her left arm. She stood there crying, unable to join her beloved for one last embrace.

Matias looked sullen as he handed his sword in its scabbard to Brinn’s outstretched hands and gazed wistfully at the woman he had risked everything to rescue. “My men deserve mercy,” he said, even as he knew he was unlikely to share that mercy personally. “Will you accord them caste respect?”

Brinn took the sword and passed it to one of his surviving Captains – the man called Geralt that I had noticed Chloe seemed particularly fond of and often fluttered obvious eyelashes at whenever she could. He in turn tended to favour her company it seemed, so something was going on there and it was obviously the man Chloe had alluded to on the Larl. I would ask Chloe about him when I had the chance. “Your men will be spared,” said Brinn. Spared, but unlikely to remain free, I thought. They would undoubtedly be marched in chains across the coast and sold as labourers in Schendi. Those who survived the arduous march (and not all could expect to survive a forced march in this searing heat) would spend the last of their days digging entrenchments and clearing parts of the rain forest outside of the city walls where there was an inexhaustible need for slave muscle. Gor is a harsh and cruel world for men as well as for women, and often it is men not women who suffer the worst.

“I could not have anticipated your sorcery when I formulated my tactics,” said Matias. “Without it though we would have won.”

“I think you would have,” admitted Brinn, “but sadly for you history is written by the victorious. Bards will sing again of the glory of my name. They will in turn perhaps compose a solemn epitaph to yours.”

“I have one request,” said Matias. “My woman – the Lady Saffia. May I have one last embrace? I ask this as a caste brother?”

“No,” said Brinn. “You may try to spare her the shameful fate of slavery by snapping her neck. I cannot permit that. The woman is now part of my plunder.”

“You are a cruel man, Brinn of the Sardar.”

“It has been said.” Brinn glanced round as he heard the crunch of shingle as Yishana approached. She clutched her torn gown firmly to her breast with her left hand as her eyes stared with hatred at Matias.

“Sleen!” she hissed. “Oh, but I have waited so many years for this reckoning.” The men had permitted Yishana to approach and pass through their lines without comment, but I could see from the expressions of the allied force that none of them had any respect for the Ubara any longer. She had fled when battle began. Men do not forget things like that. Although she didn’t know it yet, so consumed was she with thoughts of vengeance, her own future seemed as precarious to my mind as that of Matias. Of her once formidable Askari force there were perhaps 17 able bodied men still standing and twice that in wounded. None of them would quickly forget the way she had hurried away from the battle line like a scared girl.

“You have won, Lady,” said Matias. He looked tired now. “Gloat if you will.”

“That is not enough, Matias of Telnus. Today on this beach I shall enact my blood vengeance against you. Today I will kill you with my own hands.” She drew a knife from a sheath at her side. She held it in her right hand, blade pointing downwards. “You are a powerful man in Cos, Matias, and that formidable rise to power began over twenty years ago in the burning halls of the Valconni mansion. Do you deny it?”

Matias gazed at Yishana with bemusement as he heard that name. “The Valconnis plotted against the Ubar. When you play for such high stakes you either win or you lose. But why should the Valconni family be any concern of yours? You're not even Cosian.”

“Because I am a Valconni. I am Cosian. Do you remember a small child, a girl, a daughter to the Valconnis?”

“Yes, I do. I remember her very well. What of her?”

“Did you ever wonder what happened to her? Did you perhaps think she died in the fires you ordered your men to light?”

“No, I know what happened to her. She became a slave and grew up to be a slave in my household where she works to this day. She warms the furs of one of my captains that your men killed.”

“What are you talking about? “ snarled Yishana. “The Valconni daughter stands before you now, ready to cut your miserable throat open. I am Yishana Valconni, last of my line.”

The admiral stared at her for a moment and then he began to laugh, much to Yishana’s disdain. “Oh, now I see where all this hatred comes from. Tell me, tan skinned woman who resembles the people of the Tahari, why do you think you are the daughter of the Cosian Valconnis? Your name is Yishana?”

“Yes. Yishana Valconni.”

“Interesting. More interesting than you can possibly imagine. The Valconni daughter was called Elena. She has blonde hair and she is your age now, maybe a year or two older. She cleans in my house, along with the other slaves. The Valconnis had no other daughters, of that I assure you.”

“Liar!” Yishana took another couple of steps forward. “I am Yishana Valconni! I was rescued from my burning home when I was four years old by Kerim Shah! You stole my birthright from me!”

“I certainly hope you are the Yishana of the Valconni estate,” said Matias with a degree of mirth. “There was indeed a young girl of four years age called Yishana in that house. She was a slave herself, the daughter of a beautiful slave mother who had in turn been birthed by her own beautiful slave mother. If you are the Yishana of House Valconni then you have been bred from a long line of slaves, my dear. Did you not ever know that?”

Yishana’s face grew even more furious as she spat out the word ‘liar’ again, but as I gazed around the faces of the men assembled on the beach I could see they were paying a good deal of attention to what the Cosian admiral was now saying.

“The Gods have a sense of humour it seems,” said Matias as he looked upon Yishana. “All this time you’ve been unaware that you were born a slave? The Valconnis as I recall allowed the young girl to be a play friend for their own daughter. You were permitted the run of the house and grounds while you were such a small child, oblivious to your future status in life. Years later of course once you had passed puberty a very different fate would have been in store for you. Your thigh would be branded and you would be taught the skills you would need in your future life. The irony here is I have inadvertently spared you from decades of slavery it seems. You should thank me.”

“He lies!” screamed Yishana as she turned to face the men. “Can’t you see he lies? He’s doing this to try and drive a wedge between us? To try and somehow save his own wretched life!”

“I have no hope for that,” said Matias. “I know my fate and I know there is no escaping it. No clever words or deceits will save me now. And so I tell the truth, Yishana the slave girl. You were born of slaves and you are legally a slave. That is who you are.”

“I will kill you now for that,” screamed Yishana as she raised the knife in her right hand, but before she could strike a blow she heard Tijani call out the word, ‘hold’ and she felt him seize her wrist, prise the fingers apart and pluck the blade from her hand with ease. Furious, enraged, Yishana turned round to face the man who had dared to disarm her, and in doing so she raised both hands, permitting the torn front of her gown to slip, exposing her left breast.

“Shameful,” said Tijani as he stared at her semi-nakedness. “Cover yourself, woman! At once!”

Yishana flinched, seeing all the eyes on the beach gazing at her shame. She quickly stepped back, flushing red and pulled the torn gown back over her chest. She no longer had a weapon of course, so now she gripped her gown together with both hands.

“Give me back my knife!” shouted Yishana.

“I think not,” said Tijani as he gazed at the finely wrought blade. “Surely you know that slaves are not permitted weapons?”

“I am not a slave! I am Yishana, Ubara of the Black Coast!”

“You are by your own admission then a slave,” said Matias, “for I tell you that the Yishana you claim to be is a slave girl that belonged to house Valconni. Technically then as I seized their assets, you now belong to me. How poetic. You are my slave girl. You may kneel before your Master.”

“These are just words that he speaks,” cried Yishana to the men on the beach. She walked a few steps forward, still clutching her torn robe about her upper body. “Empty words without substance! Don’t listen to him! He is our enemy! He seeks to divide us! You know me – I am the living avatar of the Goddess Nakeisha, she who is the wind rider. A Goddess would never inhabit the body of a slave girl.”

“True,” said Tijani with a smile. “Very true, so in that case show us some evidence that the Goddess still blesses you and we will know the Cosian admiral lies. Just a single sign will suffice, Yishana. Something to demonstrate the Goddess’s grace within you.” Tijani knew I think that Yishana no longer had any such grace, and possibly he suspected she never did. He is far less superstitious than the average Gorean, and he knew that by demanding a sign from Yishana she would be powerless to provide it.

“I… I cannot… just yet… not yet...” Yishana began to realise the trap that Tijani had just set for her. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t feel the Goddess today, and she knew this was the worst possible time for anyone to demand a sign from her. “In time I will, but...”

“How unfortunate,” said Tijani as he crossed his arms. “Perhaps you no longer have the grace of the Goddess after all? Perhaps she now knows what you have always been? A slave girl?”

“I am Yishana! Yishana is Captain of the Larl of the Thassa!”

“A ship that now lies scattered as so many burnt beams across this beach.”

“I am still a captain. You are a member of my crew. You are honour bound to obey me,” said Yishana. “As do you all!” she said to the Askaris. None of them seemed very impressed.

“In that case, if you are indeed a free woman, and if you are my captain, then I invoke the age old right of challenge that is common amongst the pirate brotherhood. I challenge Yishana, Ubara of the Black Coast to a death match for the captaincy,” he announced to a stunned reception on the beach. “We will fight, Yishana, and the winner takes all. It will be knives. No doubt your Goddess will be with you in the fight.”

“No! Stop!” I had to act now. I could see from Yishana’s stunned face that she was terrified by the prospect of meeting Tijani with a drawn blade. Kerim Shah would have wanted me to save her life through any way I could. “You can't fight her, Master,” I said to Tijani, “for Captain Matias is right when he says Yishana is a slave. Here,” I thrust my hand into the pouch that I had taken from Kerim’s body and I produced a folded piece of aged paper that I thrust into Tijani’s hands. “Kerim Shah had always kept this in secret. It is the legal paper noting that Yishana was born a slave. It is dated from her birth and bears the stamp of the slavers of Telnus, witnessed on the estate of Valconni when she was born to her slave mother. Kerim Shah chose to hide this fact from her after they fled to the black coast. He loved her as a daughter. Please don’t fight her, Master, she is just a slave who didn’t know until today that she has always been a legal slave.”

“Is it genuine?” asked Brinn.

“It certainly isn’t a forgery of any kind,” said Tijani as he carefully read the aged paper. “It definitely details a slave baby being born on the estate at the time Yishana claims to have been born there, and the baby is named Yishana. She is of partial Taharian ancestry, which would certainly match Yishana's skin colouring.”

“No…” cried Yishana in growing horror. “I am not a slave! I am not a slave! These are lies!”

“Hush, Mistress,” I said gently. “Let the men determine this.” I felt sorry for the woman. This must be an awful, terrible thing to discover about yourself. To have all this time believed you were born to the Cosian aristocracy and then to discover in actual fact you have always been a common slave. It would take her a long time to come to terms with this. Technically of course she was guilty of masquerading as a free woman all her adult life, but I do not think anyone would judge her harshly on that score. She was after all truly ignorant of her actual status. Of course now that she knew the truth she would be held responsible for anything she said or did from this point on.

“Perhaps you should kneel while the men make a careful determination, Mistress,” I said kindly. “It would be better that way.”

“No! I am not a slave!”

“Mistress, it is unlikely that anyone will blame you for thinking you were a free woman until now, but from this point on they will hold you responsible for what you say and do. You know how men are. Please, Mistress, do as they say.”

“Kneel, girl,” said Brinn without any sympathy in his voice. “We will tell you when you may rise.” Brinn had uncompromising views on legally enslaved women.

Yishana glanced to her left and right. Brinn’s men were now either side of her. She turned to find her Askaris, but they scowled in disapproval and made no attempt to defend her honour. They had seen her flee the battle. One of Brinn's men regarded her and then spat on the shingle.

“Please Mistress…” I took Yishana by the hand and helped her to kneel. I could feel her hand shaking as I did so. “The judgement may be in your favour. Just let the men decide. Do not antagonise them.”

Yishana was in shock I think as she knelt on the shingle. She knelt in tower on account of the fact that she still thought she was free, and of course because in her gown it was impossible to part the knees while kneeling. There is a practical reason after all why tower is the default kneeling position for free women who wear sheath like gowns.

“I can’t see any reason to doubt the Cosian’s claims. This document was carried by Kerim Shah from the time he fled Telnus, and Kerim Shah was Yishana’s self appointed guardian. There is no reason for him to have carried it unless it referred to her,” suggested Brinn.

“I agree,” said Tijani. “And she does not deny being Yishana, or being born on the estate. It would be another matter entirely if she did.”

“Did you ever suspect you might be a slave?” asked Brinn of Yishana.

“No, of course not!” snapped Yishana in defiance. “Why should I?”

“Perhaps because secretly you have the desires of a slave?” suggested Brinn with a smile.

“No.” Yishana blushed red and looked away. “How dare you! We are allies!”

“And I told you several nights ago that I do not ally with women. It is not in my nature.”

“I am not a slave, Brinn... I do not have slave feelings...” Yishana's voice was breaking now. She looked terrified, and well she might. She was alone on this beach with many men who now only saw her as a woman.

“Kerim Shah never hinted that you might have been born a slave?”

“No! Why would he! I don’t know what that paper is, but it can’t relate to me! It can't!”

“And yet you claim to be Yishana who was born on the Valconni estate twenty five years ago?”

“Yes…”

“Does this look like a forgery to you?” asked Brinn, showing the time aged paper to the girl who knelt on the shoreline.

“No…” Whispered Yishana. “But it must be another Yishana that it refers to.”

“Two Yishanas born on the very same day? And why would the Valconni lord give the same name to both a slave and his daughter? Such a thing would shame his daughter. There is also the matter of the same birth date. This is your birth date, yes?”

Yishana stared at her birth date inscribed on the old paper. A stifled sob came from her throat.

“Answer me, woman, when you are asked a question.”

“It is my birth date...”

“How do you explain that?” demanded Brinn.

“I…I can’t… but there must be an explanation…”

“There is. You are a slave, Yishana. Does any man here dispute this ruling?” asked Brinn as he waved the paper in a semi-circle so that all the men could see it. No one spoke to object in any way.

“Then by the power invested in me as a captain, I pronounce you slave, Yishana. I pronounce that you have always been a slave.”

“No…” tears sprang from her eyes as she tried to get up, but the hands of several men pressed her back down by her shoulders.

“Do not rise without permission, slave,” said Brinn. He seemed satisfied by the outcome for he had seen Yishana’s secret needs laid bare in her cabin just a few days ago. “The question now is, to whom do you belong?”

“Technically Matias of Telnus,” suggested Tijani as he considered the matter. “I assume you were granted the former Valconni property as a reward for your action in support of your Ubar that night?” he asked Matias.

“That is correct. They forfeited their lands, slaves and assets to me. It was indeed the beginning of my rise to power.”

“So then, Yishana is your property.”

“So it seems,” agreed Matias.

“No!” screamed Yishana as she buried her face to the shingle in terror. I tried to comfort her as best I could, kneeling beside her, but it was for the men to decide now.

“And now you are our prisoner, so I suppose your property belongs to us,” suggested Tijani.

“She is yours, along with my sword,” agreed Matias.

“Excellent.” Tijani walked slowly towards Yishana. He gazed down at her and then said to me, “put her with the other girls, Emma.”

I nodded and took hold of Yishana's right wrist. I was no longer calling her Mistress. “You need to stand now, girl.”

The sense of shock meant I had little resistance from the former Ubara. She rose to her feet, her body trembling as I prised her hands away from the torn front of her gown. Yishana squeezed her eyes shut and refused to look at anyone as I peeled the gown away from her body. Several of the men expressed their appreciation of the fully naked Yishana by striking their left shoulders in the time honoured method of Gorean applause. I then bundled up the torn gown and cast it away. Yishana would not be wearing such things any more, and it was hardly likely that Cassandra would want to claim it.

Yishana's head was down as I walked her past Brinn's men, past her former Askaris who one by one turned their backs on her as she went by. I led her past the standing figure of the Lady Saffia Luna Josefina Alejandra of Telnus who turned and hissed the word “Slave!” at Yishana as she walked with tears in her eyes. Saffia bent down and gathered up a handful of loose shingle and then, straightening up, threw the shingle at Yishana's back, hissing the word, “Slave!” once more.

Yishana felt the shingle strike her and she instinctively turned round to face her assailant.

“No!” I said to her sharply. “That is not an option any more, Yishana. She is a free woman. She may speak to you as she pleases.” I didn't personally think that the Lady Saffia would remain free for very long, but at the moment she was protected by that lofty status.

“Don't look at me, slave!” hissed Saffia.

I led Yishana back up the slope of the beach to where Chloe stood with the other slaves before she might earn herself a whipping. I tried to be as gentle as I could with Yishana, for I knew how very traumatic this must seem to her now.

“Don't worry. I suspect Lady Saffia will be in a collar too before the night falls and then she will speak a little more respectfully to you.” I was looking forward to that as things are always awkward for slaves when there is a free woman in the group. Having Cassandra here would be bad enough.

Now Matias turned his attention back to Brinn and Tijani. He looked up for perhaps the last time at the sun that was now beginning its slow decline towards evening. “You will accord me the right to a warrior's death?” he asked Brinn.

“Is that what you want?” asked Brinn.

“I would make a poor quarry slave,” said Matias after a while. “I have lived too long a life to eke out a few additional years digging earthworks, chopping trees or quarrying stone. Give me the ending that you yourself would desire.” Matias dropped to his knees and lowered his head.

Brinn was silent as he drew his sword and with three hard chops in quick succession, decapitated Matias there on the sand. There was a loud piercing scream from the Lady Saffia as she saw her Free Companion brutally executed before her very eyes.

I sat down on the shingle as Chloe placed a numb and traumatised Yishana in amongst the other slaves. One of the men who had survived alongside Tijani was Simon, and now would come the inevitable reckoning. With the execution of Matias complete, Brinn now turned his attention to his former 'brother'.

Brinn marched towards Simon with death in his eyes.

“I told you what I would do if I ever saw you again, Simon,” said Brinn in a cold rage. “You betrayed an oath of friendship, you stole Emma from me, and then you compounded your sins by serving a woman who captured and humiliated my sister. Now you'll pay the price. Draw a sword. You and I will settle this with steel.”

Tijani strode forward to join Simon. “We have just won a great victory, Brinn,” he said, trying to calm matters. “Now is not the time to start bickering amongst ourselves.”

“It is all right,” said Simon to his friend. “Brinn and I need to speak, and Brinn has every right to be angry with me. I have wronged him greatly.” To my great surprise, Simon went and found a short sword and picked it up. This was practically suicide for Simon wouldn't last ten seconds against Brinn in a straight sword fight. He then presented the sword to Brinn, hilt first. “I did you a great wrong, one that I will never be able to atone for. I know now that the most important thing to be Gorean is to have honour, and my misguided love and lust for Emma robbed me of any semblance of honour. I do not expect forgiveness nor do I deserve it. For the record, I renounce any claim I once had to Emma. She is yours, handed over freely without coercion. I know I cannot be around Emma and still maintain any honour, for she drives me to reckless actions in order to possess her. But I want you to know that I did one thing for you – I kept Cassandra safe from harm and most importantly free. I did everything in my power to protect your sister, Brinn. It was the least I could do for you. I would have stood with a blade in my hand between her and anyone who tried to collar her. That is the absolute truth that I speak to you now. But I know it is not enough. Take this sword and end things between us. I offer you my life in payment of the debt. Do what you feel is right and just.”

For a moment I thought that these words might have moved Brinn, and that he would grudgingly pardon Simon and leave him alive, but then Brinn actually took the sword from Simon and cast it away into the sea, and then he said, “very well. I'll make it quick as I did with Matias.”

“No!” The voice was Cassandra's as she pushed imperiously through the line of Brinn's men. No one dared to stand in the way of Brinn's sister. “You cannot kill Simon, brother, because if you do so you will be killing my Free Companion to be.” She turned to face Simon who seemed to be as surprised by this statement as we all were. “If you will take me as your Free Companion, that is, Simon. Forgive my boldness, perhaps unbefitting a free woman of the Sardar, but I owe you my life and freedom. I am yours if you find me pleasing. If you feel I am not worthy of your companionship, then spurn me and I shall live as best I can with the burning shame.” She lowered her eyes and awaited his decision. Simon was clearly astonished by this 'what the fuck' moment and all his earlier romantic illusions of Cassandra seemed to come to the fore. She suddenly seemed to be everything he had hoped I might be – the chaste elf maiden from Lord of the Rings who saw him as a hero.

Before Brinn could get his thoughts together, Simon bent down on one knee before Cassandra and replied, “I claim you as my Free Companion. We will drink the wines of companionship here on this beach and seal the pact for a year and perhaps in perpetuity.”

“And I will then stand by my man and share any danger that presents itself,” Cassandra said as she then took three steps to stand before Simon, facing Brinn’s sword with her own body.

To be honest, I never expected that.

“My congratulations, Simon, on your impending Free Companionship with the Lady Cassandra,” said Tijani as he walked beside the earth-man. “Are you happy?”

“Very happy,” said Simon. “Cassandra is an incredible woman. She upholds the virtues that all other free women aspire to. There is such sensitive poetry in her soul. She is grace personified. Did you know she can play the flute?”

Tijani looked impressed. “I did not know that, friend Simon. The flute, you say? A desirable trait in a woman.” It was sometimes very difficult to tell whether Tijani was actually being sarcastic as he was a true master of the poker face.

“We have something like Free Companionship on Earth. It is a custom called marriage but it does not need to be renewed annually.”

“That seems to me foolish. What if you grow bored of your companion by the end of the year?”

“Well, on Earth a man and a woman are supposed to be together for life.”

“I see. Well here on Gor you will find companionship different, and at the end of the year you are free to find another free woman if you prefer. They say Free Companionship is a noble and significant moment for any man to strive for. The union of love between man and woman in Free Companionship has been written about for centuries by poets and now you will experience it for yourself in all its manifold glory. I wish you well.”

“Thank you, Tijani. Have you ever been free companioned?”

“Me?” he looked surprised by the question. “Certainly not. I enjoy good quality sex too much. Be well, Simon, be well,” and with that he clapped his hand on Simon's shoulder and returned to where Brinn was talking in serious tones with his sister who appeared resolute in her decision.

“Brinn, there is still the matter of the Lady Saffia,” said Tijani.,

“Ah, yes.” Brinn nodded and regarded he where she stood under the watchful gaze of two of Brinn’s warriors. She looked nervous as to her fate.

“Lady Saffia,” said Brinn. “How are you this day?”

“Wretched,” said Saffia in a pleading tone. “You executed my beloved! His head lies separate from his body! You murdered him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” said Brinn without emotion. “But otherwise?”

“Otherwise?! I am dressed in tatters and rags, I am barefoot as a peasant girl might be, I have not been permitted a veil, and these ugly brutes of men insist I wait here for your pleasure!”

“For my pleasure?” said Brinn with a smile.

“I… I mean… wait here for your decision as to my fate. It was a hasty choice of words. Sir, I appeal to your mercy. I am not your enemy. Cos is not your enemy. Please escort me in dignity back to Telnus and I will see that you are amply rewarded.”

“You think I will be welcome sailing to the harbour of Telnus in a Port Kar ram-ship? Leaving aside the fact that I decapitated one of their admirals?”

“Well… perhaps then to a city that is neutral where you may supply me with a loan of sufficient funds so that I may complete my return home in reasonable comfort. I will of course repay your generosity many fold once I am safe. I appeal to your good nature as a gentleman.”

“I see.” Brinn gazed at her legs, the lower half of which were clearly visible under the torn skirt which fell to her knees. “You have very lovely calves, Lady Saffia.”

“Oh!” She blushed. “Please, Sir, I would appeal to you not to look at my calves. These are circumstances beyond my control, otherwise I assure you my calves would never be so shamefully displayed. I will seek to rectify the situation as soon as I am permitted to find other more suitable garments.”

Brinn nodded. “Perhaps you might like to beg me for a collar?”

“What? No! How dare you, Sir! Of course not! Why would I do that?” The Lady Saffia took a step backwards, but firm hands pressed her a step forward again.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” mused Brinn. “I may have been mistaken of course. It has happened once or twice before in my life. But you have risen in my admiration, Lady Saffia. Truly you have.”

“I have?” Her expression brightened considerably.

“Indeed. There are few free women who choose death before the shame of slavery. If you would kneel now with your head and neck forward as your beloved did?”

Saffia screamed and tried to bolt, but the men held her firmly once again. Brinn seemed absolutely serious about this, and I was suddenly reminded of his stupid caste codes by which a warrior had to either enslave or kill women who belonged to his enemies.

“Please! No!” Saffia struggled in the hands of the men. I felt sure she would beg for a collar now – women always did, but before she could say those words I heard Cassandra speak loudly and concisely.

“No. She is not to be enslaved or killed. She will remain a free woman.”

Brinn stared at his sister as Cassandra approached the warriors and motioned for them to release Saffia, which after a nod from Brinn they did.

“Why?” asked Brinn. His hand left the hilt of his scabbarded sword.

“Really, Brinn, surely you understand that if I am to be Free Companioned in the coming days I will need a chaste, free, hand maiden to accompany me and carry the flowers of companionship, laying them before my feet as I walk to the betrothal. A slave cannot touch those flowers. Back in the Sardar there would be many fine women of good breeding to choose from, but here on this sticky, humid, insect-infested beach I find the choice considerably limited. The Lady Saffia will therefore have to remain free.”

“I see. Well,” he turned back to the woman who seemed to be hyper ventilating with shock, “this does seem to be your lucky day, Lady. Tell me, do you wish to stand as Cassandra's hand maiden?”

“Yes! Yes! Please, yes! Yes!”

“Then it seems you will not be enslaved after all. My congratulations.” And with a final scowl Brinn stomped his way back up the beach.

The warm sun was setting on the horizon as I knelt beside Yishana trying to soothe the way she was feeling right now. She lay on her belly across a log with her wrists tied in front of her and her thighs spread apart with the log itself seemingly straddled. Her ankles were tightly secured meaning she could do little but rub her belly against the rough bark. In the case of her left leg she couldn’t even do that as it was lashed tightly in placed in multiple locations so as to make the thigh in particular rigid and immovable. Nearby hot coals were heating up a branding iron.

“Please, Emma… please…” begged Yishana as she knew the metal was being heated to white hot.

“It’s going to happen, Yishana. It happens to us all. Be brave. There will be pain, but when the brand heals it will enhance your beauty.”

“I’ll be a slave!” she cried.

“You’ve always been a slave. Now the brand will simply make it obvious.”

“You’ve got to talk to Brinn! Please – tell him not to do this!”

“I think you over estimate my influence with Brinn. He would not listen and if I continued to plead your case he would get annoyed and I would be whipped. I fear the whip. I do not wish to feel it again.”

“I could be a slave without a brand,” wept Yishana. “It sometimes happens..”

“Not in this case. Brinn is old fashioned in such matters.”

“Is she ready?” asked Tijani.

“She is as ready as any woman can be when it is time for her to receive a brand, Master.” In truth I don't think any girl can ever feel ready to be branded.

Tijani nodded and gazed down at the helpless figure of his former captain. She writhed in her tight binding fibre bonds to what little extent was possible. Her left thigh however didn’t move so much as a fraction of an inch. This is where the brand would be placed and it was important that the flesh remain still during the searing heat of the iron so that the brand would be clean and sharp. This is for the girl’s own good really. Whether the brand is neat or sloppy the girl will still feel the pain, but afterwards the girl will always prefer that she is marked with a neat pretty brand. It enhances her attractiveness to men and can add value to her auction price.

“Tijani…” Yishana hoped I think to plead with the man.

“Emma, tell this girl how she should address me if she wishes to avoid a beating.”

“You call all men master, girl,” I said. It was important that Yishana understood this because the punishments for disobedience are severe.

“Please… Master…” the word was hard for her to say, but say it she did, “please do not brand me…”

“After all this time when you’ve deceived men as to your true status, I think it’s more important than ever that your body is marked so there will be no confusion ever again. You understand you are already legally a slave, that you have always been a legal slave and that you are also in fact a natural slave, and so this brand changes nothing about you, it only serves to make clear to masters and mistresses what you are?”

“I can’t be a slave… you must see that…”

“I see a lovely slave who simply needs training and strict discipline, both of which she will receive in abundance. You will learn to be pleasing, girl, and you will learn to crawl to men and beg their touch.”

Tears began to well in Yishana’s eyes it seems as Tijani picked up the branding iron by its insulated wooden handle. The tip was white hot and ended in a small cursive symbol much like the letter ‘k’. It was the common kef brand, the one that I wore on my own thigh. It is a pretty brand and I can understand why men love to see it on the upper thigh of a girl.

“In my quiet moments I sometimes think back to our time on the Larl of the Thassa,” said Tijani as he approached the terrified writhing figure of Yishana. “I remember in particular a delicious slave, new to her collar, nervous, unskilled but in my opinion possessing a lot of potential. Her name was Mina. Do you remember her at all?”

“Mina..” Yishana trembled in her bindings. Why was Tijani mentioning Mina now, she must have thought. “I don’t recall the girl. We have owned so many girls.”

“True. This one is special to me though. You bought her while we were in port in Asperiche as I recall. You had gone into the town on some mysterious business by the time she was delivered to us and displayed for use on the chain wharf. I put her to good use myself in one of the pens. Do you know why?”

“No…” whispered Yishana even more fearfully than before.

“You’re going to think this ridiculous of course, but, well, she reminded me a little of you, and I liked the thought of using a girl that resembled in many ways the mistress of the ship. It almost felt like using you yourself in the straw. I can tell you that now. I used her as a substitute for the proud, haughty Yishana of the Black Coast. The truth is I lusted after you from that first day when you freed me from the rowing deck. You had that effect on me.”

Yishana swallowed hard and couldn't meet his gaze. “If this Mina was put out for use then I suppose you were entitled to do so.”

“Yes. And I did use her, like the slave she was. She hadn’t been branded yet. I discovered that while we coupled together in the straw. She had no experience with men either.”

“I suppose she was frigid and displeasing then,” said Yishana with a tremor to her voice.

“Unskilled, yes, but certainly not frigid. I could tell as I used her that she was a natural slave, perfect for the collar. She just needs some training from us.”

“You say that as if she is still a slave on the Larl. I recall she escaped?”

“So we all thought. Emma arranged a distraction and she slipped away before you even returned to the ship. I recall she had been troublesome the night before and had been tightly bound with binding fibre for a time. When she escaped there were still visible marks from the binding fibre on her wrists.”

“So?”

“So, after she escape, and when you returned from your mysterious interlude, I saw exactly the same binding fibre marks on your wrists, Mina.”

“I... I am not Mina…”

Tijani laughed. “ I have known for some time, Mina. I don't know what possessed you to play the part of a slave in Asperiche, but I suspect it was to do with sexual desires that were largely unfulfilled when you believed yourself to be free. I could give you that name, you know. You’re a slave. I can give you any name I wish. Would you like to be Mina again. Pretty little Mina?”

And there and then the once formidable Ubara of the Black Coast began to cry, great floods of tears as her shameful secret was a secret no more.

“So tell me again how wrong it is for a natural slave who goes so far as to pretend to be a slave on board her own ship shouldn’t be branded. You craved this many months ago as a daring interlude, and now you can have what you were brazen enough to seek out in private.”

“It was a mistake!” she sobbed. “I was confused! I know now that I don't want to be a slave! Please, Master, have mercy!”

“Who begs for mercy?”

“Yishana, the Ubara of the Black Coast,” she sobbed.

“Does she beg to be free?”

“Yes! Yishana begs to be free!”

“It is said that only a slave begs to be freed. You are a slave and now everyone will see that you are a slave.”

Yishana screamed as the white hot iron touched her flesh. Tijani held it there for a few seconds letting it burn deep into the fat of her thigh, forming a perfect letter k in her flesh. He allowed the brand to settle and then carefully he withdrew the tip to leave a perfect mark that would never disappear.

“I name you Mina,” he said.

-------------------------------------

“And so I would like to propose a toast to my good friend; the gracious, most wonderful friend I could possibly have; a beautiful, kind soul who saved me from unspeakable shame through the goodness of her heart – the chaste and noble Lady Cassandra.” The Lady Saffia raised her small goblet of wine in obvious appreciation to her saviour as everyone drank to Cassandra's health and upcoming Free Companionship. I was serving, as were Chloe and the new girl Mina – the former Ubara of the Black Coast. Brinn sat with Tijani who in turn sat with Simon who in turn Brinn pretended wasn’t there. Brinn’s senior Captain, Geralt, was also in attendance and he only had to so much as move a hand towards his goblet for Chloe to hurry over and ask him whether he wished a top up. The girl obviously liked the Master and I could see why as he was strong with broad shoulders, short dark hair and what would be referred to on Earth as designer stubble but on Gor was the inevitable consequence of a lack of Gillette razor blades. You’re a lot less likely to maintain a strict shaving routine each morning if you have to resort to a sharpened knife at your throat.

“I wish to thank her also for the honour of being her hand maiden in the upcoming ceremony tomorrow night. I will bear her flowers of free companionship with pride and may the Priest Kings themselves bless her union with the noble Simon.”

Tijani and Geralt enthusiastically struck their left shoulders in appreciation for the sentiments, and grudgingly Brinn did the same though he was the first to stop and retrieve his wine goblet. Cassandra offered Brinn an amused smile as if to say, it doesn’t really matter if you approve, brother of mine, I have decided I want Simon, and what I want in life, I will always have.

We were serving a third course now of finely chopped fish on green leaves plucked from the cliff top. Mina served this course, her body moving stiffly in pain from the fresh brand that marked her left thigh. It was swollen and covered with a dressing and would continue to hurt throughout the night and most of tomorrow. Saffia of course was very pleased to see her former captor now enslaved with a collar around her throat. She in turn had been lucky enough to have been spared by the unexpected intervention of Cassandra. Her delight was marred only by the fact that she still wore her one tatty gown with the hemline that had been cut away just below her knees. She had made several polite requests to Cassandra to borrow one of the gowns Brinn had brought along for his sister on board his ship, but Cassandra had pretended not to hear. And so despite being free, Saffia was forced to endure her calves being on display. At least while she knelt in tower they were less obvious to the casual eye, but I could see it distressed her.

“Thank you for that kind toast,” said Cassandra without looking at Saffia in the slightest. “Simon is a good man, and he shall be a good Free Companion to me, I am sure. There comes a time in every woman's life when she looks to a man for companionship and love, and Simon will be that man. It is no secret that he preserved my dignity during the long months when I was a helpless captive on board the Larl of the Thassa. I would of course have taken my own life before submitting to any indignities, but the bravery of Simon ensured that wasn't necessary. Bravery takes many forms, and I wish you all to raise your glasses now and acknowledge his.” Cassandra looked in particular at Brinn who sighed and raised his goblet once again, though he certainly didn't look happy about it.

“To Simon of London,” said the free men and women around the table, although Brinn's contribution was somewhat muted and insincere. The table had been set up under a fluttering pagoda of sail canvas stretched out on four poles to protect us all from the direct rays of the sun during the day time. It wasn't really necessary during the evening, but it provided a pleasant atmosphere to the dining area.

“My brother will now say a few kind words about Simon, my beloved, my betrothed. Brother, if you will?” said Cassandra sweetly.

Brinn seemed to cough into his wine. He looked up and gritted his teeth. Searching for some words, Brinn finally spoke. “Simon, in all the years I have known him, is a man who respects free women.”

Cassandra gazed hard at Brinn and after a few seconds Brinn reluctantly added, “and he is training hard to become a first rate physician in his adopted caste.”

“Bravo, Simon,” said Tijani, thinking perhaps to end that awkward moment. “One of the high castes of Gor! But I would expect nothing less of the beloved of the Lady Cassandra,” he said with a broad grin.

“Thank you, brother,” said Cassandra sweetly. “Those were fine heartfelt words.”

“I did my best,” muttered Brinn as he turned again to his wine goblet, gazed at me and tapped the rim by way of an instruction. I moved towards my master and refilled the goblet.

“And now perhaps my beloved can say a few words?” suggested Cassandra as she lay her hand softly on the back of Simon's.

“Of course.” Simon smiled to everyone who sat at the table. “I have actually written a few words in advance...” He produced a couple of sheets of folded paper that prompted a rolling of the eyes from Brinn. “I should begin perhaps by addressing the elephant in the room...” as Simon said that he noticed the Gorean men and women looking puzzled. “Sorry, it's an Earth saying. It refers to when there is an elephant in the corner of the room and no one can bring themselves to be the first to admit it is there.”

“What is an elephant?” enquired Tijani.

“Ah yes, another Earth reference... an elephant is a very large plant-eating mammal with a prehensile trunk, long curved ivory tusks, and large ears, native to hot climates.”

“How is it then that no one remarks it is there in the room, and how large are the doorways on Earth that it is able to enter in the first place?”

“It's, ah, well, the elephant isn't actually in the room.”

“Then surely it is hardly surprising that no one mentions it?” Tijani looked puzzled.

“It's a saying, a bit like on Gor we say 'only a fool frees a slave'.”

“Ah! That we all agree on,” said Tijani with a grin, nodding to Brinn who simply grunted and drank some more wine. He didn't seem particularly talkative this evening.

“I think we're all agreed on that, Sir,” said Lady Saffia, keen to make friends within the group that very nearly enslaved her earlier in the day. “I would have little respect for a man who freed a slave. Let them remain in their collars where they belong. The little sluts! Do you not agree, my dear friend, Lady Cassandra?”

“Indeed.” Again Cassandra didn't deign to look at Saffia.

“Well, good speech, friend Simon,” said Tijani as he raised his goblet of wine. “Perhaps another toast? To the collaring of women and putting them in chains!”

“I haven't actually started yet, Tijani,” said Simon with a pained expression.

“Oh? My apologies.” Tijani sat back down.

Simon cleared his throat. “The elephant in the room here is obviously the mortal insult I have in the past rendered to my good friend Brinn, and it will remain a stain on my honour to my dying day and something I will apologise to him for again and again until hopefully he can find it in himself to forgive me one day.” There was a hopeful tinge to those last words, but if Simon thought they might prompt something conciliatory from Brinn he was very much mistaken. Brinn simply tapped his goblet without looking at Simon and said, “more wine, Emma.” I hurried to do his bidding.

“Well, anyway, a few words concerning my beloved, Cassandra. She is, I think we will all agree, the very template against which free woman are measured for their chastity, virtue, kindness, courtesy, nobleness of spirit and feminine grace. When first we met, I...”

“I'm going to check on the men,” said Brinn suddenly getting up.

“Please Brother,” said Cassandra in a firm but pleasant tone of voice, “we are having dinner together. You know how much this always meant to father and mother. It is tradition. It is honour. Please...”

With a gritting of teeth Brinn sat back down again.

“Yes, well, when first we met,” continued Simon, “I was struck by an elegance and poise so refined I thought I must be blessed by the Priest Kings to be in the presence of such a woman. Her gentle tone of voice, her patience and regard for all living things impressed me deeply. I could list the things she does for the poor and dispossessed in Vonda, but our food would be cold long before I could even scratch the surface of her charitable deeds. Suffice to say the name of Cassandra is hailed by many of its citizens from the young to the old. I have never dared hope until today that this gracious Lady would consent to be my Free Companion. Men are known as lustful beasts I fear, and fine ladies such as these here today have long had to suffer in noble silence as we pursue our pleasures with slave girls, but let me tell you a truth that few of us dare to admit, that no matter how many slaves we have enjoyed, it is only in the arms of a chaste and virtuous free woman that we can truly know love. Lady Cassandra, I pledge you my sword, my life, and companionship.”

The look on Tijani's face right now was priceless. I lowered my head in case he might catch sight of me smiling.

“To the Lady Cassandra,” said Simon as he ended his speech with another toast. “The most gracious flower on the planet Gor!”

The men and women settled down now to the rest of the courses. There was some talk of the battle from Tijani, and how valiantly everyone had fought, and then the Lady Saffia gleefully rounded on the former Ubara of the Black Coast.

“Lady Cassandra,” she remarked in a sparkling voice, “I do believe there is a new slave amongst the serving girls. She seems strangely familiar.”

“Indeed. She is in a collar where she belongs,” said Cassandra, deigning to converse properly with Saffia for the first time.

“How splendid and fitting it is that the little slut discovered she had always been a legal slave. That is what you are isn't it, slave?” She directed her mocking words at Mina who served some small pastries on a silver tray.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Mina, knowing full well the men would have her beaten if she showed the slightest disrespect to a free woman.

“And now you have a brand to match your collar. You disgust me.”

“Yes Mistress,” said Mina quietly.

“I haven't forgotten the indignities you heaped upon me on the Larl, slave. I will make you pay for those. I shall have you whipped every day.”

Tijani looked uncomfortable upon hearing this, but the Lady Saffia was a free woman and so he did not publicly contradict her. His grim set voice spoke volumes though.

“Every day,” hissed Saffia at Mina who looked understandably startled. “You will not have an easy slavery, slut.”

I remained quiet of course, as did Chloe for we both feared angering the Lady ourselves.

“Is that strictly necessary, Lady?” asked Brinn. “A single punishment should suffice.”

“May I remind you that I am a free woman, Brinn. I can do as I please.”

Brinn shrugged. It was true. On Gor free woman have a lot of power provided they do not cross red lines pertaining to sexual conduct and modesty. Men will by nature support them. “That is so, Lady Saffia. You are indeed free.”

“And therefore I will do as I please in respect to this slave. In fact, I find her serving tonight to be clumsy and ill mannered. Once or twice she has looked at me in a manner unbecoming a slave. There are men here. I ask that one of them whips her.”

Brinn grumbled, not liking this any more than Tijani. He had seen Mina try her best. “Must we? I am still digesting the fish course.”

“Yes, do so. I am offended. You are men and therefore obliged to support me.”

Brinn, Simon and Tijani looked at one another as if to say, who's going to do it? Finally Tijani stood up with reluctance. I saw Mina tremble where she knelt.

“Please Mistress, a slave begs mercy,” said Mina.

“Denied,” said Lady Saffia.

Tijani uncoiled the whip at his belt and motioned for Mina to kneel in whipping position. “Are you absolutely sure about this, Lady? The slave will be unable to serve once I've whipped her? She is new to the collar and taking that into account her service this evening has been acceptable.”

“And I say it has not. Slaves need to be disciplined. You need to be uncompromising with them. The other slaves will simply have more work to do without her. Proceed. Whip the slut. She displeases me.”

Tijani nodded, again reluctantly, and gave Mina six hard strokes of the whip. He did so quickly to get the matter over and done with. Mina cried where she knelt, shaking in pain.

“Just six?” enquired Lady Saffia.

Tijani clipped the whip back in place. “Do not push the matter, Lady. I am not in the mood.” There was a hard cold tone to his voice that prompted Lady Saffia to back off and leave it at that. The slave had been whipped after all, and there was always tomorrow to indulge in further punishments.