One seemed to be exhorting his fellows to such an endeavor.
Cabot admired him.
And slew him.
He put another arrow to the string.
Then, suddenly, and Cabot had not seen it, another of the Kurii spun about and rolled in the dust, scratching at it, an arrow through its neck.
Cabot lowered his weapon.
Another Kur fell.
Nicely done, thought Cabot. And you hung Lita's garland nicely on the tree as well. You have been practicing, clearly.
At this point those Kurii who had remained in the field broke and ran, two more felled before they had cover, one by Cabot and another by his unseen cohort.
A Kur cheer rose from the small citadel.
"Ah, friend Cabot,” said Grendel, “you have taught your superiors that a human may be something to be reckoned with."
"They are not my superiors,” said Cabot, “and perhaps we have taught them that two humans may be something to be reckoned with."
Lord Grendel grimaced, and it may have been a smile. “Perhaps,” he said.
Chapter, the Fortieth:
WHAT OCCURRED IN THE EVENING
"Please, Master, please!” wept the slave.
"What is it?” asked Cabot.
"Surely Master knows what I need, and must have!” she said.
The slave had been freed from the tree, and the bracelets, and the leash, and had been put to work, preparing a meal, and a small camp for Cabot and Lord Grendel.
Obviously she had been in torment, and would have preferred to serve otherwise than in the domestic capacities then assigned to her.
Certainly she tried to put herself frequently before Cabot, and had even brushed against him piteously, more than once, but he had simply thrust her away, that she might continue her labors, gathering wood, fetching water, arranging beddings of grass, and preparing their small meal. Cabot had then fed her by hand, she in primary slave position, and with her knees spread, as she was that sort of slave. He also, in hand-feeding her, had required that she keep her hands, palms down, firmly, on her thighs. He ignored her plaintive whimperings.
It was now after the meal, and she had tidied the camp, smoothed the beddings, and such.
She now knelt in the vicinity of her master, but to one side, and back, in a place he had indicated. In this way she would be close at hand, and thus easily summonable, but her presence would be unobtrusive, outside the purview of her master, who, it seemed, might not now care to look upon her.
Had she been banished from his sight, if not from his convenience?
It is not unusual, incidentally, to put a slave in the background, so to speak, in a place from whence she may be easily brought to serve, but, too, where her presence will not intrude on the attention of free persons. Free women often insist on this. Indeed, when free women are present, at a supper, or such, the slave is likely to be demurely, modestly, clothed, even in an ankle-length gown. To be sure, she is denied gloves, her arms are commonly bare, and the collar must be clearly visible. Free women insist on that. If only men are present, matters are likely to be arranged differently, and proceed differently. For example, the slave is likely to be clothed differently, if clothed.
She strove, biting her lip, not to whimper, for her master might not care for it. Had he not put her outside the circle of his purview? Too, she did not wish to be cuffed. Yet she was sure she would soon be able to resist no longer, and would inevitably utter the soft, pleading need noise of a stressed slave, even though it might bring not the master's mercy, but the lashing of his belt.
Cabot, of course, had not been, nor it is likely any man would have been, unaware of her restlessness, her scarcely controlled agitation, her attempts, those of a slave, to call herself to his attention.
Masters, you see, do not necessarily object to such discomfitures in their slaves. Muchly thereby are their lovely bellies well heated.
He turned to regard her.
She looked at him, wildly, piteously.
She struggled to keep the palms of her hands down on her thighs. Clearly she would have preferred to turn them, so that her small, soft palms would be exposed to her master, in a slave's mute appeal.
"Perhaps I shall bracelet you for the night,” said Cabot.
"Master?” she said.
"With your hands before you, so you will be comfortable,” he said, “lying down, with your hands fastened about a small tree."
Tears streaked her cheeks.
"What is wrong?” he asked.
She put herself to her belly, before him, sobbing.
"Did you enjoy being braceleted to the tree,” he asked, “neck leashed to it, unable to speak, gagged?"
"You touched me,” she said, “when I was helpless, and could not resist! Then you left me to writhe in need!"
"It is a common way to heat a slave,” said Cabot, “to make her helpless, and then touch her, and then leave her, indefinitely, if need be, until her needs master her, until she is the piteous victim of her own nature."
She placed her cheek against his right foot.
"Then,” he said, “they pull against their bonds, but, of course, are helpless to free themselves, and, if ungagged, they commonly call out, piteously, begging for usage, and even for so small a kindness as a caress."
"I beg usage,” she said.
"Even for the least of caresses?"
"Yes, Master!"
"Strange,” said he, “for a woman of Earth."
"I am no longer a woman of Earth,” she said. “Surely you know what has been done to me! Despise me, if you must, but is it not you who has made me like this?"
"If I have done anything here,” he said, “it is no more than to release what was already within you, waiting, longing, begging to be freed. Have you not consulted your dreams, your fantasies? And I do not despise a woman for her vitality and health, nor for her awakened sensitivities and needs. Only a lunatic or fool would do that. One might as well despise her for the circulation of her blood, the beating of her heart. No, I do not despise you. Rather, I rejoice, as would any true man, to see you so alive, and needful."
"I need a man,” she said. “A master!"
"A master?"
"Yes, a master!"
"Why?"
"Because I am a woman, a slave!"
"I see,” he said.
"A slave begs use,” she said.
"Earth seems now far behind you,” he said.
"Yes, Master!"
"You sound like a mere slave girl,” he said.
"It is what I now am!” she said.
"And anything in addition?"
"No, Master,” she said, “only that!"
"I like you like this,” he said.
She whimpered, piteously.
"I wonder if you know how beautiful you are in your need, how helpless and beautiful."
"Please content me, Master,” she said.
"Perhaps,” he said.
She moaned.
"Please,” she said, “please!"
"It seems the slave fires rage in your belly,” he said.
"Please, Master,” she protested.
"Do they?” he asked.
"Yes!” she said.
"What?” he asked.
"The slave fires rage in my belly!” she wept.
"You admit it?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Interesting,” he said.
"Please, Master!” she said.
"You are collared, are you not?” he asked.
"Yes, Master! Yes, Master!” she wept.
"And whose collar do you wear?"
"Yours, yours, Master!” she cried.
"It is on you well, is it not?” he asked.
"Yes, Master!” she said.
"It is close-fitting, is it not?"
"Yes, Master!"
"It is locked on you, is it not?"
"Yes, Master!"
"Can you slip it?” he asked.
"No, Master!” she said.
She, bellied, began to kiss his feet, piteously.
"I need your touch, Master,” she said. “I need you, my master! I need you with all the desperation with which a slave needs her master!"