Dunes of Gor Chapter Three

Chapter Three: The Virgin Bell

Afrid, the market stall owner in the souq, regarded the two girls with the polite expression of a man who knew exactly what they were up to.

“The figs look lovely and juicy this morning, don’t they Jaleesa?” said Serafina as she squeezed one.

“Oh, yes, they look so juicy and fresh,” agreed Jaleesa as she pretended not to notice the row of ka-la-na bottles that Afrid had on display alongside his fruit and vegetables.

“We’ll definitely take half a stone of the figs, and while we’re here, a full stone of your dates, and some spices. Cumin, pepper and cinnamon.” Serafina made an obvious display of scrutinising the vegetables in detail. “A selection of bak-la-va, too. I do so love bak-la-va.”

“So many women do,” said Afrid with a smile as he picked out the items the girls chose. “I have never known a woman not to have a sweet tooth.”

“Was there anything else?” said Serafina as she turned to look at her sister. Jaleesa pretended to think hard as if there was something else, if only she could remember…

“Oh, yes! Serafina! The present for your beloved, Faramond. You nearly forgot!”

“How silly of me. I’ll forget my own name at this rate,” she confided in friendly tones, with a soft, musical laugh, to Afrid who simply smiled and nodded. “He is such a fine man, of such a fine house and father has asked him to call on me tomorrow. We will be walking together in our garden, talking about the flowers that grow there. I am so looking forward to seeing him. I was going to give him a gift, so, perhaps… let me think… perhaps a bottle of your ka-la-na… yes, what a marvellous idea! A bottle of ka-la-na that I can present to him as a…”

“I’m not selling you ka-la-na, Serafina Shahzad,” said Afrid, firmly but politely.

“But it’s not for me…” she began.

“It’s not for her,” added Jaleesa.

Afrid leaned forward to regard the girls in their haiks, veils and hijabs. “Do you take me for a fool? Do you think you are the first skittish girls to pretend to buy ka-la-na as a present for a brother or suitor? Away with you, and do not presume to insult my intelligence again, you mere slips of girls, not even yet companioned for the first time.”

“But…”

“The Priest Kings frown on un-companioned girls drinking ka-la-na. It is not respectable. The wine turns devout maidens into careless and irresponsible females of low virtue. Better you spend your evening perfecting your curtsies and embroidery skills for men to admire.”

“Afrid, please…” Serafina put on her most appealing voice. “We would only have a single small cup each…”

“No. Men such as I must guard you against your own innate wickedness, Serafina and Jaleesa Shahzad. I will not be party to your wickedness. Do you want me to tell your father about this conversation?”

The girls walked away, defeated, Serafina in particular feeling very frustrated. “The Priest Kings don’t care if I drink ka-la-na,” she sighed. “Why should they! It’s ridiculous to think they would. They’re Gods! Why would Gods care about such trivial things?”

“They are all knowing though,” said Jaleesa, “and who are we to question their wishes?”

“It’s just men, always men, who divine and tell us the words of the Priest Kings. It’s not fair!” 

The souq was but one of many market places within the walled city of Tor. Its narrow alleys and passageways were lined with alcove style businesses set into buildings more than four stories high, constructed in the main from wooden beams and mud bricks. The buildings were smooth and bleak, with occasional narrow windows, set high on the walls, well above street level, and none of the windows were wide enough to permit the passage of a man’s body. The centre of each street was a common, open gutter which collected waste, which a man or woman must be careful not to step into. 

As the girls walked, they were accompanied by the soft jingle of bells for it was the custom in Tor for young maidens of free companionship age to be belled. Other men and women would therefore know their status in Tor’s society, and perhaps a man might make enquiries as to the woman’s pedigree and family, so that he could present himself one day to the father of the family and make clear his qualities as a potential suitor. 

Serafina resented being belled, and therefore Daan had Ghadir ensure she wore a bell each morning when she left the house. Sadly, Daan did not trust his daughter, and so the bell was locked with small delicate clasps around his daughter’s left foot, so that she could not remove it. As was the fashion in Tor, he also insisted that his daughters walked gracefully and didn’t for example dash about the streets of Tor as they sometimes did on the estate. Their ankles beneath their long haiks were therefore tethered with light walking ribbons restricting their pace. The knots were signature knots and would be closely inspected upon the girls’ return. Woe betide them if the knots were no longer the original ones! This too, Serafina found annoying. The tethering meant she was forced to take short, graceful steps wherever she went.

The girls explored the familiar stalls of the souq, their eyes scanning anxiously for any sign of merchants selling ka-la-na. Like the other women in the souq, Serafina and Jaleesa wore the haik – a single piece body covering that went over their already modest garments. It covered them from head to ankles with just a strip of gauze around the eyes to see through. Concealed like this they could be any girl. Slaves too walked around in similar garments, though their masters had belled them with multiple sensuous bells that chimed enticingly, very, very different from the single pleasant chime of the virgin bells that free women such as Serafina and Jaleesa wore. Slaves too often had ankle chains to measure and control their stride. Unlike the walking ribbons that Serafina wore, the slave chains could not easily be removed. 

Within the walls of their home, the girls were not required to wear the haiks, and they could request that their bells too were removed, though Daan often insisted they keep them.

“It helps me know where you are at all times. When I hear that virgin bell jingling its clear single chime, I know one of you is probably up to some mischief.”

Perhaps as a punishment for her rudeness to the son of House Sharn, Daan had ordered that his eldest daughter should wear the virgin bell whenever she left her private rooms. “If you wish to remain an unaccompanied virgin, then the bell shall let men know that is what you are,” he had explained.

Now Serafina couldn’t sneak anywhere, and it meant she couldn’t even climb her secret tree house without the overseer of the male slave work gang hearing her. Her options and freedom around the house and grounds were much reduced.

The girls passed all manner of stalls laden with goods for sale. Embroidered cloths, silks, rugs, silver, gold jewellery, mirrors, perfumes, hides, skins, exotic feathers, precious woods, tools, needles, worked leather goods, salt, nuts and spices, jungle birds tethered to wooden perches, weapons, rough woods, sheets of tin and copper, Bazi tea, wool from the bounding Hurt, beaded whips, and blocks of pressed dates sold by the stone. But what they were after was more elusive – the fine imported wines from the north.

“Please, Sir, it is my father’s birthday and I would like to buy him a small bottle of fine ka-la-na,” said Serafina as she approached a new market trader. He sniffed, heard the virgin bell ringing as Serafina approached and concluded she was not companioned. “Away with you, child! Find yourself a man to whom you may be meek and demure in his presence. Then if you are a dutiful companion, pleasing him greatly, you may in time petition him for a small glass of ka-la-na. But I shall not sell it to you while you remain in girlhood.”

No matter their age, women in Tor were considered technically adolescent children until their first companionship. It was a frustrating custom for Serafina. 

“No one is going to sell us Ka-la-na,” said Jaleesa who by now was getting bored with the attempts. “Let us buy some cool sherbet flavoured water and drink it near the fountains in the square instead.”

Serafina pouted under her haik. She twisted her left foot and heard the horrible bell chime a single note. Why did she have to be belled! It wasn’t fair. 

“All right, but let’s walk down Brand Street.”

Jaleesa frowned under her haik. “That’s not a good idea. The slavers don’t like us going there.”

“They won’t know. Slaves wear haiks too. We might be passing slaves for all they know.”

“They will hear our virgin bells, Serafina. They will chase us away with sticks.”

“Not if we buy some slave bells and tie them with ribbons around our ankles,” she said slyly. “Then we’ll sound like passing slaves. Oh come on, it’s thrilling to see the slave markets!”

Free women were strongly discouraged from passing through the slave markets of Tor, and un-companioned girls even more so. But anything that was forbidden acted as a daring challenge as far as Serafina was concerned. “Please, Jaleesa. Please.”

Against her better judgement, Jaleesa accompanied her sister to a market stall where they bought two clasps of slaves bells and a single brass key that worked for both. The stall owner regarded them suspiciously, but there was no reason to suspect the bells were intended for anything other than the ankles of slaves that they owned. But once the girls were out of sight, they ducked into a narrow side street and, while one of them acted as look out, the other reached down, lifted the long hem of her haik and quickly fixed the slave bells to her left ankle. The circlet closed with a sharp click. Now the single chime was disguised by the sensual ringing of the multi-belled anklet. Then they swapped over and it was Jaleesa’s turn to place bells on her ankle. 

“It feels exciting, doesn’t it?” said Serafina, as she hugged her sister, holding the small brass key to the pair of ankle bells in her right hand.

“A bit. This is very bad of us.”

“Yes! But now we can walk down Brand Street and see all the excitement!”

And so they did, hesitantly at first, but then more boldly, indistinguishable from actual slaves in dark black haiks who came and went, their ankle bells chiming as they passed.

They walked slowly, arm in arm, pointing out shop fronts with whips and chains and steel collars for sale, and other establishments where girls stood in recessed alcoves, posing enticingly to customers, some of the girls clothed, but others near naked, being assessed by men. Not all the girls were Taharian, but most were. They passed a café in which, peering through the round windows, they saw men seated, smoking from bubble pipes, laughing, drinking strong liquor from small cups, while kajirae in gossamer harem pants and cheap bauble jewellery, and nothing else, danced for the pleasure of the men in the sand pits. The girls’ eyes widened as they saw one man rise, take hold of the slender wrist of a dancer and lead her away to a curtained alcove.

“Do you think he is going to…” asked Jaleesa.

“Yes. I think he is! Can you imagine?!” 

The girls peered and watched, holding their hands together as nerves overtook them.

“Look at her!” exclaimed Serafina. “The way she dances for the men! How shameful!” The dancer was a slim but wide hipped girl who gyrated with her belly before the low set tables in the café. This one was naked except for a belt and two long strips of silk hanging across her front and back. Both strips of silk reached down almost to her ankles. 

“This is what men like,” said Jaleesa. “I have heard them talking about it in the stables.”

“Come.” Serafina took her sister’s right hand and led her away, deeper into Brand Street, the slave bells fastened about their left ankles jingling with each step they took. They passed various shops where metal workers placed the tips of brands in furnaces to heat the irons to a white hot state while a girl squirmed in terror, tied tightly to a branding rack. The sisters couldn’t bear to stand and watch what might happen and so they hurried on, passing several more cafés, each one more impressive than the last. One café occupied the corner of an intersection, and Serafina saw a narrow alley leading to an open courtyard doorway belonging to the café.   

“Look! Look!” She pointed to the wide doorway, big enough to drive a wagon through. Her sister watched as a man carried a box of bottles through the gateway. Serafina led her protesting sister to the side of the open doorway and together they peered round it. Just as they did, two slaves, unmistakeable as slaves because of the erotic jingling of their slave bells, passed through the doorway, almost colliding with Serafina, as they left the courtyard belonging to the café. 

“Stupid girl!” said one of the slaves in her black haik. She slapped at Serafina, not knowing she was a free woman. “Out of my way, you sluts.” The girls pushed past the sisters, moving back down the alleyway in the direction which the sisters had come. 

Serafina and Jaleesa held their breath for a few moments and then began to giggle. “They thought we were slaves!” laughed Serafina softly. She moved her leg and heard the slave bells jingle so sensuously. “This disguise really does fool anyone.”

“We should go now, Serafina,” said Jaleesa, anxiously. “We could get cool sherbet water and sit by the fountains.” 

“Didn’t you see? Didn’t you see that man carry a crate of bottles into the storeroom over there?” She pointed through the arched entrance of the courtyard in the side alley. Across the courtyard they could clearly see the man placing the crate down next to some others. Then, straightening up, he walked back into the courtyard, turned left and headed through a back door into the café. As they continued to watch, another slave girl in a black haik, bells jingling, passed the sisters and entered the courtyard. She ignored the open storeroom and headed into the rear of the café. 

“Jaleesa! We only have to cross that courtyard, hurry into the storeroom, and we can steal a bottle of ka-la-na! We can hide it under our haiks and just walk back out again. You saw how slaves are coming and going with no one paying them any attention.”

“We can’t go in there!” said Jaleesa in alarm.

“Yes we can. It will only take a couple of ehn and then we’ll hurry home with a bottle of ka-la-na! We’ll be in and out of that storeroom before you know it. Nothing can go wrong!”