Slaver of Gor - Chapter Thirteen

 

 

“Are we enemies now?”

 

The dinner had broken up in due course. We stood away from the other officers, gazing out over the camp at the three moons of Gor that hung in the night sky. 

 

“I suppose we are, yes,” said Cornelius as he looked down at me in the torch light. “You are a free woman of Argentum, and I am a warrior of Corcyrus. These things are set and we cannot change them.”

 

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” I said softly.

 

“That is not your choice, Amicia. Only the Priest Kings can change our fate.”

 

“It was a surprise to see you tonight. I almost turned back, earlier, when an officer told me your name. I didn’t want to see you again. Not after…”

 

“And I had no idea I would ever see you again, Lady, let alone in an army camp. But here we are.”

 

“Here we are,” I agreed. It was a warm night and I had, after all, drunk a glass of wine towards the end of the meal. I now held a second glass, and was supposed to make polite conversation with the various Corcyrians, but had not yet moved on from their commanding officer. 

 

“Why are you so determined to fight us?” I asked.

 

“Because it is my duty, and because I will win.”

 

“You can’t win. Our soldiers are superior to yours. Everyone knows that.”

 

“Then in a couple of days’ time I suppose I will be kneeling naked and chained in your camp, and you can tell me you were right,” said Cornelius. “If I don’t die fighting, of course.” He touched my arm lightly. “A word of advice, Amicia. I am going to win. Leave here tomorrow morning. Take your wagon, but abandon your slaves and equipment to allow yourself speed. Head for Samnium or Brundisium with your head start, and seek caste sanctuary as a refugee.”

 

“Are you insane?” I drank some of my wine. “Why would I do that?”

 

“Because otherwise you will become the spoils of war when your army is defeated.”

 

“Spoils of war?” I regarded him.

 

“Do you want me to lead you naked, and tethered to my stirrup, through the gates of Corcyrus?”

 

“Would you do that?” I imagined myself for a moment, naked, a leash fastening my collar to the stirrup of Cornelius Piu’s tharlarion, as he marched me in triumph through his city gates. Perhaps there would be a brand on my thigh. Perhaps not. 

 

“Of course. You are a beautiful woman. Men fight wars for rich prizes such as you. If I didn’t, some other man would.”

 

“Men fight wars for honour,” I said.

 

Cornelius laughed. “So they say. So they say. I wish I could see your face again, Amicia.”

 

“That is impossible.” I gazed round, seeing the other men mingle and converse as the kajirae served more wine. “Plainly impossible.”

 

Cornelius nodded. “I remember your lips. Those lovely lips.”

 

“Beast,” I said with a soft smile. 

 

“I still remember that first day when I found myself lost in that city quarter. And the words you spoke to me…”

 

“Standing there, Sir, you are either giving out leaflets, advertising some bawdy play, or you are hopelessly lost,” I said softly.

 

“You remember the words, too.”

 

“Yes.” I gazed up at him.

 

“Why did you cross the street to offer help, that day?”

 

“I thought you were handsome, and I was slightly amused by the way you looked so bewildered. It was charming, I suppose. I didn’t know you were Corcyrian, of course. I wouldn’t have spoken to you, so, if I had.”

 

“You were aiding the enemy, Lady Amicia.”

 

“We were not enemies then.”

 

“No. Corcyrus was a defeated city. Argentum no longer had any reason to fear it.”

 

“I suppose.” I sipped some of my wine. “It was many years ago. We shouldn’t have met again.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“We have changed. Look at you, Cornelius. You command an army. And I… I am a successful business woman now. We are not the same people we once were.”   

 

“Time hasn’t changed you much, Amicia.”

 

“You have a free companion now?”

 

“I do. A gracious and respectable Lady. Her name is Tianna.”

 

“I don’t want to know her name. In fact I don’t want to know anything about her.”

 

“Of course. That could have been you, Amicia.”

 

“How could it have been me? You left Argentum.”

 

“I offered to free companion you when my tour of duty was up.”

 

“You never offered that.”

 

“I did. Surely you remember?”

 

“I think I would remember if you offered me free companionship. You didn’t. I gave myself to you, you took advantage of my youth, and then you left.”

 

“Amicia, you must remember the words I spoke to you. If you waited…”

 

“You never said anything of the kind!” I grew angry now. Why did he choose to lie like that? Did he think he might make me doubt my own memory?

 

“You told me it was impossible.”

 

“I said nothing of the sort! You never asked!”

 

“And I say I did. Amicia, we had that conversation.”

 

I turned away, furious. It was bad enough that he had used me and then left me, but to now make me think I was responsible! That I was at fault, or that my memory was somehow poor!

 

He caught up with me and placed his hand on my arm. “Whatever you think happened all those years ago is irrelevant now, Amicia. What is important is what is going to happen in the next couple of days, and I warn you again, use those days to get far away from here.”

 

“I thank you for your unwanted advice,” I said in a low hiss, “but now unhand me.”

 

He did so and I walked to where I saw our commander talking to one of the Corcyrian staff officers. 

 

“You will excuse me, Sir, but I feel I should leave.”

 

“Oh?” Gistin Androcles regarded me. “But the evening is still young, Lady.”

 

“I grow tired and the wine was rich. With your permission?”

 

I could see the commander wanted me to stay a little longer, either wishing to show me off still to the Corcyrians, or because he himself enjoyed the presence of a Lady at his dinner table, but he acceded to my request and ordered an officer to escort me back to my tent.

 

I said nothing as an officer appeared. Seeing Cornelius tonight had been an unexpected shock, and one that brought back unhappy memories. And how could he lie like that! He had used me and then left me. There had been no offer of companionship!

 

Not that I would have accepted it in any event. He was Corcyrian and I was of Argentum. Such things are frowned upon. I hadn’t even spoken of him to my father. My father would not have approved, and my mother would have beaten me with a switch for even kissing the man.

 

“Lady?” asked the officer politely as he waited with his helmet in the crook of his left arm. 

 

“Yes.” I began walking, focussed on nothing more than my misery that evening. I had been foolish, young, and inexperienced in the conniving ways of men. How I hated men! I had thought that a warrior might have had some honour. He had used me! I had said no that night. I had struggled, conscious of my virtue. I knew it was wrong, but then I had thought he loved me, thought he would stay with me if I pleased him that one way. How he must have laughed during that long ride back to Corcyrus. He had sported with a foolish, young Argentum Lady and it would make for a good story at the mess table.   

 

I had lost my virtue. I cried myself to sleep for months after that. I didn’t dare tell my mother. I pretended I was still glana, and I made excuses why I didn’t want to court various men she suggested to me – men from good families and castes that she felt might make a suitable match. I threw myself into my work, and only years later when I was independent and strong did I reveal the truth about myself to men who showed an interest in me. Some of them backed away when they learnt I was no longer glana, but surprisingly, perhaps, many of them didn’t. Glana or metaglana, I was still desirable as a potential companion.  

 

Many warriors had retired to their tents, but a few were still sitting in groups around camp fires. I could see their faces from the glow of the flames, and the way they watched a small, skirted figure thread her way through the main thoroughfares of the encampment. The officer by my side held a lantern on a pole, denoting his rank. Discipline amongst warriors is very good, and so I had no fear at all that anyone would disrespect me while an officer was present. 

 

“Good night to you, Lady,” called a man by a fire. A few other men raised cups as I passed by. There were no ribald remarks. 

 

On a whim, I turned to one group and curtsied. “You have my gratitude and admiration, Sirs, for what you will be asked to do. The gracious women of Argentum know their menfolk will never fail them.”

 

There were cheers from the men, and I think my words helped them with the ordeals they would soon face. Men need to know that their sacrifice has a purpose, else why do they fight?

 

“It was good of you to say that, Lady,” said the officer as we rounded a corner. 

 

“It was nothing,” I replied. “Any woman would have done the same.”

 

“When we fight tomorrow, or the day after, or whenever it will be, I will tie your scrap of silk to the pommel of my sword,” said the officer. I turned, in surprise.

 

“Yes, Lady. It is dark, so I forgive you for not recognising me. Captain Cato Triarius, of the Twelfth, at your service.” He bowed before me. When I didn’t say anything, he added, “you presented me with your silk favour at the gates of Argentum.”

 

“Of course.” I had forgotten his name. I had forgotten him. “Forgive me, Sir. As you say, it is dark.”

 

“I recognised your name when it was spoken. I was at the table,” said Cato.

 

Of course I hadn’t recognised him. My attention had been focussed on Cornelius. “I am a demure woman, Sir, I did not make eye contact with many people at the table.”

 

“Only with the Corcyrian commander,” he said softly, though there was an edge to his voice.

 

“A favour to our commander,” I said. “He asked me to.”

 

“Of course. Why else would you speak so long with Commander Piu.”

 

I glanced about me. I had no idea where in the camp we were. Cato had led me to some quiet area of the camp where supply tents were pitched. I wasn’t sure that this was the most appropriate route to take to reach the slaver encampment. 

 

“He is the enemy,” I said. “It was a disagreeable task, but I did my duty.”

 

In the glow of the lamp light I could see Cato smile. 

 

“They say we will fight tomorrow, or the day after. As I carry your favour, Lady, and as I may die for Argentum, I would consider it a blessing before the battle to receive a kiss from you, if I may be so bold?”

 

My blood chilled a little. It was quiet here. We were alone, and I had no idea where here actually was.

 

“You have my silk,” I said, sweetly. “That, surely, is favour enough?”

 

“It is a small thing to ask, Lady, as you have favoured me. Let me fight our enemies, knowing I have received the most precious reward imaginable – the soft, grateful, kiss of a free woman.”

 

“I recall you kissed me at the city gates,” I said, making light of the matter.

“I kissed your veils, Lady. Please, allow me to see your actual lips. Let them inspire me to bravery tomorrow.”

 

“I do not think…”

 

“I see.” Cato took a step back. He turned his face away. He looked angry. “It was just a frivolous game then. A game of favours between ladies who sought to bestow their silks on men they thought they might never see again.”

 

“Captain, please, it is late, and I am…”

 

“I shall conduct you to your tent, Lady. Do not fear. My discipline is good.”

 

I walked cautiously beside him as Cato escorted me back to the main thoroughfare and on to the slaver encampment. Only when I saw the signal lamps of the encampment did I feel a sense of relief. Cato bid me farewell, without looking at me, as he then turned and walked back to the officer’s tents. I hurried through the space between the tarn wire poles, nodding to the slaver men who stood guard there, and didn’t stop until I reached my own tent, safely. 

 

My tent was empty when I entered it, though the evening lamps had been lit, bathing the interior in a warm glow. 

 

“Beth?” I looked around. “Beth? Are you here?” There was no reply. I crossed over to a side table where there was a flask of wine and a goblet set out for me. I poured some wine, drank it quickly, and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been quite an evening. But where was Beth? Was she serving somewhere? Tywin might have commanded her to serve food and drink at a slaver table. It was my own fault for returning earlier than expected. Beth would have assumed I would be gone for at least another ahn or two. 

 

I emerged from the mouth of the tent, holding a second goblet of wine. The night was warm and still, with hardly a breeze after the torrents of rain we had endured. Tomorrow the mud would dry, and that might mean conflict. The signs were we would be in for good weather, and men like to fight in good weather.

 

Cornelius’s words troubled me. It was expected of course that men in his position should bluff and swagger, but his private words seemed to me to be a genuine warning, for my ears only. What he said went beyond simple confidence. He felt sure he was going to win, and on the battlefield, with our dispositions being what they were, that certainty was puzzling. What did he know that we didn’t? Because the Cornelius that I had known was never a fool. He was happy to fight us, and he believed he had the advantage. 

 

Yes, that troubled me.

 

I gazed up at the stars, nursing my goblet of wine. I felt tired already. It had been a stressful evening. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. Where was Beth? I needed her to undress me. I wanted her to brush my hair and massage my temples. She did it so well. 

 

Thirty paces away I could see the flat bed girl wagon. I crossed over there and saw that the striped tarpaulin had been raised over the girls for the night. Quietly, I lifted one side of the tarp and looked inside. I allowed my eyes to grow accustomed to the moonlight, and saw the sleeping bodies of six girls, their ankles chained to the central rail. The first of my stock. All six were good acquisitions, with a probable net worth of maybe four and a half silver tarsks between them. Although I had come out here to escape the masked women of the Pudoris Concilio, I could also expect to turn a good profit on the women I had bought. Business is always good during wartime. 

 

A girl stirred in the wagon, sensing perhaps that she was being spied upon. I saw her eyes open and she looked in my direction. I said nothing. Why should I. I was her mistress. The girl looked away and lay her head down on her arms, perhaps hoping I would be gone when she next looked up. 

 

They are slaves and I am free. 

 

I lowered the side of the striped tarpaulin and couldn’t help but yawn again. Perhaps I would look in on Julian before returning to my tent. He would, by now, be chained beneath my wagon, lying on the grass with a blanket for comfort. Yes, it would be nice to gaze on him for a few moments. 

 

My wagon lay ten short paces from the girl wagon, and as I approached, I saw a figure lying between the spoked wheels. My slave. My strong, brute of a silk slave.

 

“Julian,” I whispered, and saw him stir. There was a sliding clink of steel chain from his collar.

 

“Mistress.” He whispered too. The night air seemed to have the quality of a library, urging us both to hushed words, if words had to be spoken at all.

 

“Are you comfortable? Do you require water?” I crouched on my heels and peered at him beneath the bed of the wagon frame. 

 

“My mistress is kind to ask,” he said as he turned round to look at me. 

 

“A good mistress looks after her slave,” I said. “You are an investment.” I smiled softly in the moonlight, though my smile was hidden beneath my veils. “And I can be kind at times, if my slave is obedient.” I paused. “I have not forgotten your insolent kiss, though.”

 

“It was not meant to be insolent.”

 

“But insolent it was. Tell me, have you ever kissed a woman like that before?”

 

“Mistress knows I have,” he said.

 

“What kind of woman?”

 

“I think mistress knows what kind of woman.”

 

“Why did you, then, kiss me that way?”

 

“Because I knew mistress would like it. A silk slave should give his mistress pleasure.”

 

“You were wrong. I did not like it.”

 

“Then I was wrong, and I shall not kiss her like that again.”

 

There was silence. We gazed at one another for a while, not saying anything at all. Slowly, I reached for a key from a hidden pocket in my gown. I was silent as I set the key in the padlock that secured Julian’s collar to the chain. With a click, I freed him. 

 

“Come with me. Quietly.”

 

There was no one about. It was late. I felt a burning need.

 

Julian rose like a wild beast and followed me to the tent. Inside I told him to close the flap and tie it secure. When he had done that, he turned to regard me in the soft glow of the lamps that hung from the ceiling of the canvas. 

 

“Julian, you will…” before I could say anything more, he placed a finger to his lips and motioned me to silence. I did so. I stood there as he walked towards me. I stood there as he paced slowly around me. And then I felt his hand remove the pins of my veils. The fabric fell to the floor. I felt his hand loosen the pins from my hair, letting the dark locks tumble down about my shoulders. 

 

I found myself breathing heavily, profoundly so.

 

And then his hands were on the multitude of clasps, hooks and bows at the back of my gown. He was well versed by now in loosening them, and he did so quickly, with little regard for their delicacy. Soon his rough hands were on my bare skin, and I felt breathless with exhilaration. I stood before him, fabric pooled around my ankles, naked, except for a mid-thigh length slip of under silk. 

 

And then he stood before me and kissed me.

 

When he was finished with that kiss, my body was left shaking. 

 

“I told you never to…”

 

He placed his finger to my lips again. I was to be quiet. The walls of my tent were thin canvas. Nothing more. 

 

“Go to your bed and lie on your back,” he whispered into my ear as he kissed and nibbled at the lobe.

 

I found myself incapable of speech, so excited was I now. I went to my bed, knees trembling and lay down on my back. My breasts rose and fell with my laboured breathing. My arms were flat, by my side. Julian removed his loin cloth and let it fall to the ground. He stood over the bed with his erection clearly visible in the lamp light. 

 

I cried out softly as I felt his hands slide the silk hem of my under garment up past my thighs, up past my hips, baring me to his touch. It had been a soft cry, but it had been a sound. 

 

Julian responded by folding a piece of cloth and, opening my mouth with his fingers, thrusting it inside, before I could object. I lay there now, my mouth full, stifling any cries. 

 

“You will not remove the gag, Mistress,” he said quietly.

 

Gag! He had gagged me! I was furious! 

 

I was also terribly excited. I mumbled something – little more than a soft mewl. And then he parted my thighs. I knew I was already wet. The kiss had done that to me. 

 

I was gagged, on my bed, on my back, with my thighs parted! 

 

How dare he! 

 

I knew what I should do. I should rise up, spit out the gag, command him to whipping position, and mark his back red.

 

But I did none of those things. I lay there and felt him press his penis against the lips of my sex. I felt his left hand on the flat of my stomach as he readied himself. He smiled and stroked, with his right hand, the short curls of hair about my sex. 

 

And then he pushed slowly into me. I arched my back and cried out, but through the gag it was just the sound of a quiet mewl. And then he was inside me – hard inside me, rigid, forceful, and I felt his hands take my wrists and hold them either side of my head. I felt him grip those wrists tightly. 

 

“Mistress will not climax unless I permit it,” he said as he gazed down into my eyes. “If mistress thinks she is dangerously close, she will mewl in her gag three times and I will pause to allow her to recover herself. This will be a long night for her.” He smiled in the lamp light. “I intend to take my time…”