Outcast of Gor Chapter Ten

 

I rode slowly across the meadow, pressing with my knees and spurred heels as Kulai had told me to do.

 

“Good, Roland of Newark, good.” She smiled at me each time I looked at her, and that smile could only mean one thing. This morning she had evidently tied the same ribbon bow in her hair as before, signalling to men in the know that she was interested in someone. 

 

“You’re a good teacher,” I said. I was able to manage a slow canter on my tharlarion, but even so, there was a long secondary rein that looped from the beast to Kulai who held it loosely in her hand. Mishka trotted her tharlarion to my other side, ready to ride ahead of me if my mount bolted.

 

Behind us, keeping a discrete distance of perhaps thirty yards, rode two of Stannis’s cavalrymen, on guard duty. This area was supposed to be safe, as it lay well behind the current battle lines, but Stannis was not taking any chances when the huntresses set out to patrol the countryside. Free Women are precious and not to be put at risk. 

 

I was riding a tharlarion across the meadow lands of Gor. Who would have thought that possible?

 

Kulai enjoyed spending time with me, as did Mishka, but with Kulai it was far more personal. I didn’t know how to respond to her friendship, for I sensed what she wanted. She wanted me to notice the courtship ribbon and make some sign of affection back. But I had no intention of remaining in this camp much longer. I would leave with Rolfe and the others in a day or two. Rolfe wanted to make contact with the Argentum company that was recruiting warriors, to serve in a mercenary shield wall. There was one a day or two’s march from here. Rolfe was infantry, and this was a cavalry troop. He didn’t fit in here.

 

“Have you ever been Free Companioned?” Kulai asked me. The Gorean Free Companionship resembles marriage on Earth, except that it has a finite term of a single year, after which the couple are obliged to renew their vows of companionship, or ultimately separate. It is possible, therefore, for a man to have gone through several companionships in his time.

 

“No.” 

 

“Why not?”

 

“Things are different in New York,” I said. “Free Companionship there is for an extended term. It Is considered a more serious proposition.”

 

“Oh.” Kulai rode alongside me. “You have not met the right woman, then.” She looked hopefully at me.

 

“Perhaps not.”

 

“A good companion would support her man,” explained Kulai. “She would defer to him, of course, but she would also be a strength to him. She would be a woman he could turn to for advice in uncertain times. And she would be proud of her man. So proud! She would defend his good name and never do anything to undermine him.”

 

Oh, Kulai. I’m leaving soon. Please try to understand we won’t see each other again after that. There is no future in yearning after me. I will free Felicity and then she and I will be Free Companioned and live our lives together, however long it may take me to find a way back to Argentum and that backstreet paga tavern.

 

“Such a woman would be a fine catch,” I agreed. “Perhaps one day.”

 

“Perhaps sometimes we do not see what is good for us, even when that something stands before us in plain sight.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

We rode on

 

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Yesterday, after meeting with Livinnia, I had returned to the slave enclosure, bearing the padlock with the seal of the House of Assante. The kennel master didn’t seem pleased to see me, but when he saw the padlock, he had to defer accordingly.

 

I found Kelsee kneeling in obeisance before two other slaves who were chained to the same post.

 

Obeisance, in this case, meant Kelsee was kneeling in tower, bending forward with her forehead touching the ground, and the palms of her hands flat on the grass. The two slaves regarded her with amusement as they struck at her thighs with a long stick.

 

“Stupid girl,” said one. “Your sula position was pathetic. You are pathetic. Must we whip your thighs because you are so worthless to your master?”

 

“NADU! NOW!” I snapped. Instantly, both girls hurried to comply. I was a free man. They knelt before me in nadu, quivering, for they could sense they had done something wrong, but they didn’t know what that might be.

 

When I saw Kelsee rising into nadu as well, I swiftly told her to relax. She looked scared, even though I was here to protect her. 

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing to my slave?!” I roared. The girls both shrank back, terrified of me, now.

 

“Please, Master, whatever we have done, we beg forgiveness,” said a dark haired girl. She pressed her forehead and the palms of her hands to the ground before me.

 

“Kimi begs forgiveness, Master,” cried the second girl chained to Kelsee’s post. She also pressed her forehead and palms to the ground.

 

“This is my fucking slave!” I seized the first girl by her hair – she who had been holding the stick - and pressed her face down into the dirt. There was suddenly a wild commotion around me as all the other slaves, tethered by chains to the other slave posts, shrank back in fear. I was aware of men moving swiftly into the compound to see what the problem was; the kennel master among them.

 

“Please Master,” begged Kelsee. “Please don’t. It will only make things worse for me, when you’re gone.”

 

“Worse?” I looked around. Slaves were shrinking back in terror from me in all directions. And then the kennel master was bearing down on me as I held one of his girls, face down into the dirt.

 

“Don’t fucking start,” I said, as I released the girl and pointed a warning finger at the kennel master. I can look scary when I’m angry. I spent several years as a child growing up in a former mining town in Wales, with an English accent. It toughens you up. “Back off! Now!”

 

The men separated, such that the kennel master was now facing me, and two of his men were flanking me on either side. They looked ready for a fight, but the kennel master waved them back.

 

“Has this slave offended you?” asked the kennel master. He watched me closely. He had no idea what Livinnia had said to me earlier that day. Was I now a favoured man in this camp? Would he have to tread carefully? Did I have some new status that he wasn’t aware of? 

 

“Your slaves have been bullying my slave,” I said. I realised as soon as I said that how stupid and ridiculous that would sound to men of Gor. And yes, the kennel master laughed, as did his men.

 

“They are slaves,” he said. “There is always a pecking order in the kennels. Your girl is obviously weaker than my girls.” He gazed at her. “And she lacks a brand. It is cruel to leave a girl unbranded. Other slaves will resent her and her life will be made miserable in the kennels. Too, a girl without a brand can never fully embrace her slavery in the way a marked girl can. The brand is often the tipping point that breaks her resistance and allows her to come to terms with the lit fires in her slave belly. You are cruel to refuse her that. You have a lot to learn about owning a slave.” 

 

“Please Master,” Kelsee pressed her face to my thigh and begged piteously. “It will be worse for me later.” I could see many girls glaring now at Kelsee, blaming her for my intervention. There were no friendly faces gazing at her. Every girl seemed to be thinking, just wait until your master is gone, little crying slut. 

 

“I’m taking her out of this place,” I said.

 

The kennel master grinned and folded his arms. “You can do so, but then you will both leave this camp. Stannis Assante requires privately owned girls to be kennelled.”

 

“What’s going on, Kelsee?” I asked.

 

“Master, I’m the lowest girl here because I do not have a brand. They say I’m worth so little that I’m not even worth the cost of branding.”

 

“That’s what this is about?” I gazed round at the other slaves. I understood how futile it was to threaten them. It would be like threatening a pack of cats. They would slink away and cower before me, but once I was gone they would set upon Kelsee again, only worse than before. “She lacks a brand because I haven’t branded her yet, that is all.”

 

The slaves said nothing. They just regarded Kelsee, waiting until I might leave her alone again. 

 

Kelsee began crying, and I felt wretched hearing her weep. 

 

“Please, mistresses,” she begged to the other slaves. And then she dropped back into obeisance before them, hoping it might satisfy them. “I submit before you. I offer no defiance. I am a low slave.” 

 

The slaves said nothing to me. Whenever I looked at one, she quickly lowered her head submissively, respectfully, for I was a free man, but when I looked away at another girl, the slave would raise her eyes and gaze sternly at Kelsee again. This was an impossible situation. I was making things worse for Kelsee by causing a scene like this. 

 

Back on Earth she had been one of the Heathers at school. With Felicity Emery and Paige Bannon, she had been a popular influencer, and girls would strive to earn her approval. But back then she had the advantages of wealth, family connections, and beauty. When she wanted something, the other girls at her school had strived to please her, afraid of what her disapproval might mean to their social standing. Here on Gor she owned nothing, and her family counted for nothing. And as for beauty? Well, Stannis Assante did not bother to own plain looking slaves. Here, in this kennel pen, Kelsee’s beauty was about average, at best. I counted at least three girls who were far more beautiful than her. Here, in this kennel pen, she was just an ordinary kajira.

 

“Masters do not interfere in the internal squabbling of kajirae,” said the kennel master. “Tell your girl to obey them, and I will ensure there is no serious damage done to her.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

 

“Please Master,” sobbed Kelsee. “Let me submit to them. I fear them.”

 

I looked at the slaves again and as soon as I did they all submitted to me instantly. But I knew what they would do when I left. What could I do? They were the property of Stannis Assante. I couldn’t threaten to harm his slaves, just because my girl was lowest in the pecking order of the kennel due to her lack of a brand. 

 

“Your girl is inciting unrest in my kennel, with her unmarked thigh,” said the kennel master. “She should be branded.  A kennel in Argentum would not even accept her until you kissed her thigh with the iron. Look around you – the other slaves don’t like her. Do something about it.”

 

“I will brand her in my own good time, not before.”

 

“If your girl continues to disrupt the smooth running of my kennel, I will have to bring the matter to the attention of Stannis Assante. He will not be pleased. Does he even know you have brought an unmarked slave into his camp?”

 

“He doesn’t care,” I said, adapting Livinnia’s words earlier. “He has better thing to occupy his time.”

 

“She is a disruption,” he said, pointing to Kelsee. “Put a brand on her thigh! We have a metal worker. What is wrong with you?”

 

I handed the new padlock to the kennel master. I had opened it with my key. “Change Kelsee’s padlock. I want to watch you do it. She is not going to serve in the camp tonight, or any other night, without my permission.”

 

The girls surrounding Kelsee seemed to harden their gaze at her as I said that. 

 

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I rode alongside Kulai and Mishka through the sun kissed meadowlands. I remained troubled in my thoughts, for I knew that Kelsee would be suffering in the kennel pen while I enjoyed myself, learning to ride. The only saving grace was that her period of torment was limited each day. During the evening, the other slaves would be busy preparing themselves with silks and cosmetics, and then they would spend the night itself serving the warriors in the camp. Come morning they would sleep through the early part of the day while Kelsee in turn was wide awake. The only time she had to fear was from midday through to late sunset. 

 

I felt powerless once again, for I couldn’t challenge the way Gorean men run their slave kennels. Everything the kennel master said to me was perfectly normal for Gor. Free men did not involve themselves in the disputes of slave girls, nor did they interfere in the pecking order of the kennels, except perhaps to appoint a First Girl. Beyond that, slaves were left to police themselves. 

 

There was a thicket of trees to my right. It was too small to be termed woodland, for it probably only constituted an acre of ground, but it was dense enough to provide concealment for any enemies in the vicinity. Mishka had, however, assured me that the Corcyrian lines were far from here, and any lone stragglers would do well to avoid contact with what appeared to be five light cavalry. 

 

“How does it feel to be in the saddle?” asked Mishka. She rode to my left. She held her light bow with an arrow knocked the bow string in case she sighted game. One of the functions of light cavalry is also to forage for fresh meat during the day. I watched as she sighted something in the grass. She raised the bow, drew back the string and let fly with an arrow. I saw something small – rabbit shaped – struck instantly.

 

“Something else for the pot,” she said with a smile. “The men may mock our ways, but they are always eager to see what we bring back for supper.”

 

“Oh, yes, then they are so kind and friendly,” laughed Kulai. “Please, kind huntress, can you spare a leg of tabuk for our camp fire? The ribbons you wear in your hair are so pretty.”

 

The tabuk is similar to the Earth antelope, and the sweet meat is delicious when roasted over a campfire. Mishka had already shot a tabuk, and its body was trussed and dragged behind the tharlarion of one of the male riders. From Mishka’s saddle swung several dead rabbits. 

 

We were pacing along the side of the woodland, Mishka watching the meadow grass to my left, when suddenly a second tabuk appeared, startled, in the tree line, a mere thirty yards from me. It had emerged, perhaps not sensing the cavalry patrol until we were suddenly there in front of it. Rashakk, my tharlarion, reacted instinctively with the tabuk so close. It roared, raised itself up for a moment, prompting me to almost fall, and then, lacking firm control, it sped after the frightened tabuk. Before I knew where I was, my tharlarion had plunged into the thicket of trees. 

 

“Fucking stop, you asshole lizard!” I swore, just before a tree branch struck my head. I was thrown back, falling from my mount. I had just enough sense left to let my body go limp and try to roll as I struck a sloping bed of moss, and I then tumbled down a slight incline to the side of a gentle stream. I lay there dazed, cursing my fucking tabuk-chasing tharlarion. 

 

Moments later there was some thundering of tharlarion feet through the woods. I saw one of the male riders (the one who wasn’t dragging a tabuk carcass behind his mount) give chase to my tharlarion, as a second rider appeared at the top of the slope. It was Kulai. She leaned forward on the pommel of her saddle and gazed down to where I lay on the soft moss. 

 

“Are you hurt?” She looked concerned.

 

“Only my pride. And I’ll be a mass of bruises tonight. Rashakk…”

 

“Kronos has given chase. He will bring Rashakk back.”

 

I lifted myself slightly and felt my body ache as I did so. “Ow!”

 

“You ARE hurt,” said Kulai as she tapped with her knees and made her tharlarion scramble down the gentle slope towards me. 

 

I sat up on my ass, my knees raised in front of me. “Is Mishka laughing?”

 

“Mishka is not laughing. She is concerned. I am concerned.” She regarded me for a moment, seeing how muddy I looked. “It is a little bit funny, though. Your… um…” she looked to the side. I realised that the hem of my tunic was rucked up at the back and she could clearly see my bare buttocks. I quickly pulled the garment back down.

 

“It could happen to anyone.” I raised my arm and saw her lean forward with her own to help me up. “I suppose a huntress wouldn’t fall from her mount?”

 

“There is no chance of that,” she said as she grasped my hand. I quickly gave her a sharp tug and heard her squeal as she was pulled from her tharlarion. She fell neatly into my arms, and what a lovely little baggage she was, squirming, flustered as I held her still.

 

“You were saying, lovely huntress?”

 

“Oh! That is not fair! You pulled me from my saddle!”

 

“Never trust a man’s hand,” I said with a grin.

 

“Oh, I know that now!” she said. The ribbon of courtship bound her hair back. One strand of the ribbon had flopped forward and was brushing her little upturned nose.

 

I brushed the ribbon strand back and touched that cute nose. “Now that I have caught a huntress, I may demand a ransom to let her go.”

 

“Ransom?” She looked at me with amusement. “What ransom would that be?”

 

“A kiss, perhaps?”

 

“The kiss of a Free Woman is a precious thing and not to be bestowed lightly,” she said. “Besides,” she added, “I wear my hair bound with a ribbon. I may not kiss a man while it is so bound.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“It is so,” she confirmed. “This is the ribbon of yearning. A woman of Turia wears it when there is possibly a man of interest to her. She cannot say who that man is, of course, for that would be bold of her, but it indicates there is a man to whom she would not draw her skinning knife and place it at his throat if he was to approach too closely.”

 

“How does that man know he is the one for whom she wears the ribbon of yearning?”

 

“Oh, often the woman gives subtle signals,” she remarked. “I think he will know.”

 

“Some men can miss the obvious.”

 

“That is so. Men are often stupid, like snorting bosk.”

 

“So, a man may not kiss you while your hair is bound by a ribbon?”

 

She nodded. She seemed nervous now.

 

“This ribbon?” I placed my hands on one of the loose strands. It was tied with a slip knot and could be pulled open with a single hand. 

 

She nodded again. She seemed too nervous to speak. 

 

Kelsee had remained in her steel belt since that first night in the camp. Consequently I had not been able to put her to use now for a couple of days. Kulai was a Free Woman. There could be no future for us, but I was aroused enough by her presence in my lap to consider the prospect of kissing her, nothing more. She was actually very pretty. Not as pretty as Mishka, and of course not slave beautiful like Kelsee – no Free Woman could be - but as Rolfe might say, Kulai was a lovely little baggage, and definitely worth kissing. 

 

I gave the ribbon a little tug and saw her long hair fall loosely about her shoulders. Her hair was now unbound, and I held her ribbon of yearning in my left hand. 

 

Kulai gasped. She trembled, but she did not draw her skinning knife. Instead, she offered her lips to me. 

 

“Kulai of Turia will pay the price of her ransom,” she said, softly.