Outcast of Gor Chapter Thirty Five

“I’m just processing that,” I said. “Where I come from, a mother would be grateful that a man had saved her daughter’s life.”

 

The Tatrix was about a foot shorter than me. Her robes were bright, rich, and very expensive. She looked regal as she regarded me, with her rat like First Minister, Laskar Tagaris, standing close by her side. He seemed to frown each time I spoke, as if no matter what I said, he didn’t think it was appropriate speech to be directed at his regal Tatrix.

 

“There is still time to have him killed, your Grace. With all due respect, I have a couple of men on standby. They are professional stranglers from Schendi. It will be quick and relatively painless.”

 

The Tatrix brushed aside the suggestion with a languid sweep of her left hand.

 

“My rule is built on the principles of honour,” she said. “Without honour, my rule means nothing to my people. Already they talk in the markets and the paga taverns of what occurred in the gardens of Caphius. Word has spread. Men ask who this man was, and where he is now. They know he was taken by guardsmen. They enquire after his well-being. They ask whether he is to be honoured.”

 

“Idle chatter,” suggested Laskar Tagaris. “The babbling of inconsequential fools. They will soon grow distracted by other news. With your permission, your Grace, I have already arranged a number of topical issues that my agents are poised to spread like wildfire through the paga taverns. Paid tongues will quickly wag with alacrity! Within a couple of days the simple rabble will be obsessed by these new matters, forgetting what transpired in the market and gardens of Caphius a week ago.”

 

“They are not a rabble, First Minister Laskar. They are my beloved people that I am sworn to serve and protect.”

 

“Apologies, your Grace. I of course meant ‘rabble’ in a complimentary and affectionate manner. I adore them as much as you do.”

 

“I’m sure you do,” she remarked, turning back to me. “My daughter’s name is Laetitia Mercator,” she said. “That is the name of the girl whose life you saved in the market of Caphius.”

 

She pronounced the name luh-tish-uh. The syllables sounded lovely, coming from her lips. Her veils, as I observed earlier, were the lighter house veils, and through them it was possible to view the subtle lines of her face, if not the fine details. There remained an air of mystery to the woman. I of course had seen her features from a great distance when she spoke to the crowd gathered at the marble steps of her palace so many nights ago, but it is a very different matter to view a woman’s face close up, close enough to seize and bind her. 

 

“You’re welcome,” I said. “So why does everyone now want me dead?”

 

I saw Laskar Tagaris frown at me again.    

 

“I believe the movements of my daughter were tracked and observed,” said the Tatrix, as she casually ignored my question. “Agents of another power – almost certainly Argentum – knew she was venturing into the market of Caphius that day to gaze upon the captured Free Women of Isurium. It was natural, I suppose, that she would want to share in our day of joy and mock the captives. The tarnsman that you shot and killed was a city tarnsman, one Vito Amulius – previously of good standing, but now, it transpires, beset by gambling debt. He was paid to abduct my daughter in broad daylight and carry her swiftly from the city, where she would no doubt be used to blackmail me to acquiescence. To ensure her safety, I would be ordered to submit to the authority of Argentum.”

 

“I see,” I said. That made sense. It certainly explained both motive and how the tarnsman was able to patrol the sky above the market place without raising suspicion. It would be his patrol route for the day. “You have considered the possibility that at least one other man was involved?” I said. “A man with authority for the duty roster that day would have had to assign Vito Amulius the patrol route above the market and gardens of Caphius. It couldn’t have been coincidence that he was in the right place at the right time.”

 

I saw the First Minister roll his eyes at me. “Do you think I do not know that?” he remarked. “Several men have been taken into custody and are assisting me with my enquiries. It was the very first thing I considered.”

 

I bet they are, I thought – helping you with your enquiries.

 

“We also have the Free Companion of Vito Amulius – the Lady Aphonia of Amulius. She is being interrogated at length, after which she will be enslaved.”

 

“Assuming you find her guilty of something?” I said, hopefully correcting him.

 

“No. She will be enslaved, regardless. Let her fate be a warning to other men who care for their Free Companions, and who foolishly consider the offer of gold for treason to their Home Stone.”

 

“He is just trying to help, First Minister,” said the Tatrix.

 

“He can help more by submitting his throat to the skilled hands of one of my professional stranglers,” suggested Laskar Tagaris.

 

“We’ve been through this,” said the Tatrix. “There will be no strangling, here or elsewhere.” 

 

“Why does he want me dead?” I asked.

 

“We have, since the attack in the market place, installed tarn wire around the open spaces of the palace,” remarked the Tatrix to me. “You may have seen the strands through your windows. My First Minster has insisted upon it, though I fear it displays weakness on the part of the city, and weakness, or at least fear and apprehension, on the part of me.”

 

“Better that than the abduction of your daughter, your Grace,” said the First Minister.

 

“She is guarded well now,” said the Tatrix. “She is virtually a prisoner in the palace. And oh, how she complains day and night about it. She misses her friends.”

 

“Forgive me, your Grace, but that does not concern me. I am only concerned about her safety; less so her accessibility to social lunches in expensive cafes.”

 

“I am grateful for your loyalty, First Minister,” said Aliyyah, turning back to face him. “You have been a strong rock since the war began.”

 

“Everything I do, I do for you, your Grace, whether you approve of it or not.”

 

“He can be over protective of me,” said the Tatrix, Aliyyah Mercator, as she turned back to face me. 

 

“And he thinks I’m some threat to you?”

 

“Of course not. You are a barbarian, aren’t you?”

 

“No.” I crossed my arms. “I am an outlaw.”

 

“So it seems. But I think you are also a barbarian. It explains why you do not… understand.”

 

“Understand what?”

 

“See.” She turned back to her First Minister. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand.”

 

“Once he does know, you will regret not permitting me to have him strangled. I assure you it will only take a few moments, if you would perhaps allow me?”

 

“I must rule with honour. If I do not have honour, my people will spurn me. I will swiftly be deposed. Some things cannot be ignored. I am more than a mother. I have to be more than a mother, for the sake of my people.”

 

The First Minister nodded, sadly. He seemed to understand, even if he did wish to break the codes of honour on his Tatrix’s behalf. He seemed to me to be the kind of man who would be willing to shoulder the blame for such things.

 

“You are rested? You are well?” asked the Tatrix of me.

 

“Considering I nearly died, yes. With all due respect, your Grace, are you going to answer any of my questions? What happened to me in that cell? Where are the men who attacked me? The last thing I remember, I was being hanged by the neck. And I am concerned I’ve been in a coma for six days. I have slaves. I don’t know what has happened to them while I’ve been asleep, healing in your fluid tank. One of my slave girls was left, abandoned, in the ruins of the market place.”

 

“It is good that you are a man who cares for the well-being of his slaves.” There seemed to be a tinge of sadness to her voice now. And then she turned back to Tagaris. “Let us do this, First Minister.”

 

“For the last time, your Grace, please do not do this. There are alternatives.”

 

“I must be strong. I am a Tatrix.”

 

This was all very weird. 

 

“Come with me, outlaw.” The Tatrix motioned and I dutifully followed her through the open doorway. To the side of the corridor I observed two massive black men clad in simple loin cloths. They both had shaved heads and tribal scars. They smiled at me as I passed them by.

 

“The stranglers of Schendi?” I remarked to no one in particular.

 

“Yes,” said Tagaris, as he motioned for them to stand down. 

 

Now, two armed guardsmen followed us. They wore red tunics and carried short swords at their belts. A precaution that the concerned First Minister had no doubt insisted upon. I glanced briefly at the Tatrix, and she nodded. “He is paranoid for my safety.”

 

I was led then to another room. The Tatrix knocked softly, twice, with the knuckles of her right hand, and then, without waiting for a reply she opened the door. Two other guards stood outside that door. They too were armed. 

 

The Tatrix, Tagaris, and myself entered this other room. The guardsmen were ordered to wait outside. What was to occur now was not for their eyes, it seemed.

 

Inside, the room was opulently furnished, as one might expect from a palace chamber. Standing beside a small, barred window, standing like some important prisoner, constrained in a velvet lined cage, was a young woman. She had red hair and rich, pouting, lips. Incredibly, she wore no veils! None at all! I was literally shocked. Her face, her features – they were all exposed to my gaze. I knew instantly that this was the girl whose life I had saved in the market place. The girl whom I had briefly held in my arms as terror consumed her body. She seemed scared, terrified, even as she saw me enter.

 

“Daughter, it is time,” said the Tatrix. She motioned for the door to be closed from the corridor outside. 

 

“Mother,” wept the girl. Her hands were shaking.

 

“This is my daughter,” said the Tatrix, and there was a trace of controlled anguish to her voice, as if she was now having to do something that greatly distressed her. “This is the girl who owes you her life.”

“Lady,” I said, inclining my head for a moment. The girl was the daughter of a Tatrix, and so deserving of some respect. 

 

“So soon,” wept the girl, as she gazed at her mother. “I thought perhaps…”

 

“It is time,” said her mother. “Do not dishonour your family. Do not dishonour your city.”

 

The girl walked slowly towards me. She then knelt in tower and extended her arms towards me, crossing her wrists together as she lowered her gaze. “I am Lady Laetitia of the House of Mercator. I submit my wrists before you for binding.”

 

“What is this?” I looked round at the First Minister and he Tatrix. The First Minister picked up a length of soft white cord from a low table and handed it to me. It was suitable for binding the wrists of a Free Woman. “I don’t understand.”

 

“You are to bind her wrists,” said the First Minister, bitterly.

 

“Why?” I held the cord in my right hand.

 

“It is your right.”

 

“Will someone please explain to me what is going on?” I turned to regard the Tatrix. “Why do you want me to tie your daughter up?”

 

“He is a barbarian,” said the Tatrix. “Only a barbarian wouldn’t understand.”

 

“If a man saves the life of a woman – a woman to whom he owes no debt or obligation – that man may then claim the woman as his own. Her life is in a sense now his. You own this Lady. Or rather, you have a claim to this Lady. That is the custom of Corcyrus, and of many other cities. She submits herself to you. You respond by binding her wrists.”

 

“Wait. Is this what you’ve all been alluding to? Is this why men tried to kill me? Because I have some claim on the daughter of the Tatrix?”

 

“The men did not act under my orders,” said the Tatrix, “Nor the orders of my First Minister. They did what they thought might spare me distress. They were wrong to do so. They are being dealt with, accordingly.”

 

It began to seem much clearer to me now. I looked at the young girl, kneeling before me on the floor, her head lowered, her wrists crossed in submission. She was terrified of me, and understandably so. By Gorean custom, by the custom of the city, I could now make her my slave girl. The daughter of the Tatrix would be my slave girl!

 

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” I said. “But the people in the city witnessed what I did, and they have been demanding to know whether the Tatrix will honour her debts to that man?”

 

The Tatrix didn’t look at me. “I am doing what is expected of me.”

 

“Have there been demands ion my behalf? Surely not. No one knows or cares who I am.”

 

The First Minister cleared his throat. “There have been some demands from the caste of Slavers. A troublesome Lady Herminia, in particular, seems concerned for your well-being. Word has spread throughout the city.”

 

They couldn’t just cut my throat and throw me into a river now. Too many people were demanding that I be freed and given my right as a free man. And Herminia had organised the protest through her caste structure? She had done that for me? I began to understand just how powerful the loyalty to caste was on Gor. 

 

I grew silently angry. It seemed to me that only the intervention of my assumed caste had spared me the hangman’s noose. I still didn’t know the full details of what had occurred in the cell after I had passed out – and perhaps I never would - but evidently my life had been spared at the final moment. 

 

“I ask you now, what is your price?” said the Tatrix.

 

“My price?” I gazed at her.

 

“Your price. Name it, and it will be paid.”

 

“My price for what, exactly?”

 

“The price you demand to renounce your claim on my daughter.” She held her breath. This was the moment she was hoping might save her daughter. She had hoped I could be bought. That I would spare her daughter from bondage, but of course the price would be high. Surely a mother would pay any price to spare her daughter the abject disgrace of slavery? And a man might easily take advantage of that weakness on the part of a desperate mother. 

 

I gazed down at the girl. All I had to do was bind her wrists and she would be mine.  I would own her. I could leave the palace with the daughter of the Tatrix as my legal slave. 

 

“I have no claim on her,” I said. “To be clear, I renounce my claim on her, if I do have any such claim. I acted to save her life because she was a Free Woman who needed help. I am not the sort of man who takes advantage of that. You don’t owe me anything. Not a single copper tarsk bit.” I gazed down at the young girl. She was barely seventeen or eighteen. “Please rise, Lady, It is not right that you kneel before me. You are a Free Woman, and the daughter of a Tatrix.”

 

She gasped. She looked up at me. She could hardly believe what she heard. I offered her my hand and, uncrossing her wrists, she took it, and rose softly to her feet.

 

“You… don’t ask for anything?” The Tatrix seemed shocked.  The First Minister even more so. “Nothing at all?”

 

“Nothing. She is yours. You have your daughter back. You are under no obligation to me, nor she to me. I am tired of all this. I just want to go home and see my slaves.” I thought of the arms of the sweetly hipped Clara. I suddenly desired her in my chains, on my couch, pleasing me. 

 

“May I ask you to sign some simple papers to that effect?” said Tagaris, quickly. He was obviously concerned I might suddenly have second thoughts. 

 

“Not now,” snapped the Tatrix. “We appear to have an honourable man before us.” 

 

“Even so,” the First Minister tried to smile pleasantly at me, but smiling wasn’t really in his nature. 

 

“I’ll sign whatever papers you like, but you don’t ned them. If anyone asks me, I will tell them I renounced any claim on your daughter.”

 

“I am sorry I suggested strangling you,” said Tagaris.

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“Perhaps not. But even so, what you are doing now benefits the city of Corcyrus. The Tatrix will be stronger with her daughter safe from harm. She will be able to concentrate once more on securing victory against Argentum.”

 

“Good luck with that. It’s not going to be as easy as you think. There is an alarming level of overconfidence in this city, based on a few, admittedly impressive, early victories. But Argentum has a lot of money, and an ally called Ar.”

 

“Oh?” The Tatrix regarded me again. “Ar is weakened.”

 

“Perhaps. But it is in its interests that Argentum remains strong.” I recalled the reason why the forces of Stannis Assante rode with Argentum. The Assantes famously cared nothing for Argentum – it was purely a favour for Ar. 

 

“What is more, Argentum did not come to the aid of Ar when Cos occupied it. Ar will remember that,” said the Tatrix.

 

“Perhaps. It was a long time ago. Practical reality often overrides sentimentality.”

 

“You think we will ultimately lose?” Suggested the Tatrix.

 

“Yes. You stand alone, with no allies. You are weakened from decades of subservience to Argentum. I compliment you on your success to date. It is impressive. I recognise you are an inspirational leader, and you have chosen wisely in the men you delegate authority to on matters of war, but you are simply outnumbered and alone. The end is inevitable.”

 

“Interesting,” said the Tatrix. She walked to her daughter and embraced her softly. The two women held one another for a time while the First Minister regarded me again. 

 

“If you don’t mind, I will have some papers drawn up. The Tatrix trusts you rather more than I do.” He offered me a pleasant smile again, that was really quite unnerving.

 

“I understand. In your position I would probably feel the same way. You really do worry about her, don’t you?”

 

“I do,” he said, simply.

 

“It’s strange, because you strike me as a man who is unencumbered by notions of sentimentality.”

 

“She is the Tatrix of the city. If she falls, the city falls with her. It is that simple.”

 

“But you also care for her, despite your snake-like manner?”

 

“Preposterous. I am First Minister. I merely do what the Tatrix cannot be seen to do.”

 

“I am a good judge of character, First Minister. I think it goes well beyond that.”

 

“I care for no one. I have always made that quite clear. The Tatrix knows that. I remind her frequently in her more sentimental moments. There is no place for sentimentality in my office. Were this Tatrix deposed, I would simply throw my support behind the next Tatrix. She also knows that.”

 

“But you don’t want her deposed?”

 

“It would be inconvenient for a city currently at war. A change of regime is not advisable in such circumstances.”

 

“Nothing more?”

 

“Nothing more.” His expression remained stoic and unreadable. 

 

“She is a woman,” I said.

 

“No, she is a Tatrix. There is a difference. A Tatrix does not have the luxury of allowing herself the mindset or feelings of a woman. She serves her people.”

 

“As a matter of interest, what generally happens to a Tatrix who is deposed by her people?”

 

“Many things,” remarked the First Minister. “None of them particularly pleasant.”

 

“I thought as much. Gor has angry mobs from time to time?”

 

“It does. Men expect much from a woman who occupies a throne. She is a prisoner to her own status. She does well not to disappoint her people in any way, particularly on points of honour. They are far less forgiving than they might be to a male Ubar. It is the role of the First Minister to ensure that the reign of a Tatrix does not suffer such angry mobs. And…” He suddenly frowned, gazing past my shoulder, obviously disapproving of something he could see. I glanced about and saw that the Tatrix stood now beside her daughter. Her hands were at her light house veils. Slowly, gazing at me, she unpinned those veils.

 

“Your Grace…” said First Minister Tagaris, but the Tatrix continued to unpin her veils before me, regardless.

 

“What are you doing?” I said.

 

“You have done me a kindness. You have the right then to view my features, as we stand conversing. Veils are for the presence of strangers. You are no longer a stranger to me.”

 

The women stood together, mother and daughter, both unveiled before me. There was muttering of disapproval from the First Minister, but he had undoubtedly seen this happen before, possibly with high ranking generals. I recalled the rumours I had once heard that this Tatrix had once been a common dock thief in Port Kar. If so, she was only posing as a high born Lady, and the veils did not mean as much to her as they might do to other women. 

 

“You honour me,” I said.

 

“No, outlaw, you honour me.” She turned and kissed her daughter softly on her forehead. “You must go now, Laetitia. I have business to discuss with this man.”

 

Laetitia looked round at me. She was no longer terrified, but there was a look of interest now. I had almost come to own her. I could have owned her. I saw a slight tremor to her features, but she swiftly controlled herself. I had not claimed her. In a sense I had rejected her. How does a woman feel about such a thing? The writer Trakkar has devoted an entire scroll to the complicated feelings a woman experiences when she has narrowly escaped the collar – feelings of relief, but also confusion that she has in a sense been rejected, and for whatever reason, found not suitable for the collar. The feelings are compounded, Trakkar claims, when the woman in question knows the man who might well have been her master, and continues to see him afterwards. 

 

The girl, Laetitia, glanced at me again, her eyes a mystery, her thoughts even more so, as she lingered but a moment before leaving the room. The door closed behind her and there was silence for a moment. The First minister gazed at the Tatrix. They knew each other well enough that they could communicate subtle things by just a glance. And then the Tatrix turned to me again and said, “you are correct about one thing. We will lose this war, as things currently stand. Argentum has made mistakes, but it can afford to make mistakes in the short to medium term.”

 

I may have looked surprised that the Tatrix of Corcyrus dared to admit this to me. 

 

“Let me explain to you the only way Corcyrus can possibly win.”