"Do you think she will fight the understanding of herself as rightfully a slave?” asked Peisistratus.
"Probably,” said Cabot.
"You are not interested in claiming her?"
"No,” said Cabot.
"Here is your lodging,” said Peisistratus, pausing on a step, leading up to the small villa set aside for Cabot's use, nestled in the side of a hill.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"Agamemnon awaits your answer,” said Peisistratus, looking upward, after Cabot.
"He will have it soon,” said Cabot, ascending the stairs.
"Cabot!” called Peisistratus.
Cabot turned, and looked down. “Yes?"
"I shall call for you at the fifth Ahn,” said Peisistratus.
"The arena?” asked Cabot.
"Our presence is required,” said Peisistratus.
"I understand,” said Cabot.
"It will not be pretty,” said Peisistratus.
"I understand,” said Cabot.
Chapter, the Twenty-First:
WHAT OCCURRED IN THE ARENA
Cabot and Peisistratus were ushered into a cage, mounted on a middle tier of the encircling seats.
"We can see well from here,” said Peisistratus.
The cage door was locked behind them.
Cabot was in a simple tunic and sandals. He had left the robes, the strings of rubies, behind, in the villa assigned to him.
"Why are we caged?” inquired Cabot.
"Perhaps because we are animals,” said Peisistratus, “and our hosts feel it is fitting. Perhaps to prevent you, should you be so inclined, from interfering in the festivities. Perhaps to protect you, lest some here be displeased with your testimony at the trial."
"But you, too, are caged,” said Cabot.
"I, too, am an animal,” said Peisistratus, “from the Kur view. And would it not be demeaning to you, beloved of Agamemnon, to be caged alone, and I left free?"
"I learned from Agamemnon, in the forest, he the metal larl, or within it, somehow, or controlling it, somehow, that you are his human."
"Shall we speak in English?” inquired Peisistratus.
"Certainly,” said Cabot, in English.
"I am my own human,” said Peisistratus.
"Does Agamemnon know that?"
"No,” said Peisistratus. Then he pointed to an entryway, high in the tiers, across the arena, with its sand. “That is Lord Arcesilaus,” he said.
There were flags and banners about, and the tiers were muchly filled.
"There are venders about,” said Cabot, “seemingly selling treats."
"Do not ask their nature,” advised Peisistratus.
"Very well,” said Cabot.
"Can you hear the music?” asked Peisistratus.
Several of the Kurii in the tiers were moving oddly, some swaying.
"I think so,” said Cabot, straining. “But it sounds not like music, but rather like throbbings, like the wind in the forest, like rushing streams, subtle, distant, sometimes cries, as of seized, frightened animals, such things."
"And much is indecipherable, resembling nothing comprehensible to you?"
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"The throbbings, the beatings,” said Peisistratus, “suggest the beating of the Kur heart, and then the movements of wind and water suggest the suddenness of vision, and the circulation of hastened blood, and the squeals, the lamentations, the shrieks, the moans, may recall war, and the hunt. But much of it, I fear, is simply unintelligible to a human, and much literally offensive to our hearing. The rhythms are only partially shared with us. Perhaps it is configured to a nervous system, or diverse hereditary coils. How much is cultural, and how much is indexed to a different physiology, to a different hearing, a different speech, even a different sense of touch, is difficult to tell."
"It has stopped, hasn't it?” asked Cabot.
Peisistratus lifted his head. “Yes,” he said. “They are ready to begin."
There was suddenly a pounding of drums, mighty drums.
"Ai!” cried Cabot, startled.
"That is not difficult to hear, is it?” smiled Peisistratus.
There were twelve such drums, each with two drummers, in the first tier of the arena.
"No,” said Cabot.
"There are twelve drums,” said Peisistratus. “And there are twelve digits on the two forepaws of the Kur."
"Each has two drummers,” said Cabot.
"The Kur has two eyes,” said Peisistratus. “Hands and eyes."
"I thought Kur music was silent, or almost so."
"Certainly not silent to the hearing of the Kur,” said Peisistratus. “But the drums may not even be understood as music. Those are arena drums, but there are also drums of war, of signaling, of formation, and so on."
Cabot's blood began to race.
Peisistratus, too, was effected by the beating.
"It seems humans and Kurii share drums,” said Cabot.
"Drums,” said Peisistratus, “speak to the blood, to the heart. They speak of the beat and insistence of life."
"They are used on Gor to marshal and control tarn cavalries, and set the cadence of the wing beat, of the flight,” said Cabot.
"Certainly,” said Peisistratus.
"Is the sound not too loud for Kurii?” asked Cabot.
"Apparently not,” said Peisistratus. “Nor is the crash of thunder, the rolling of waves, the breaking of ice in a frozen river, the tumbling of the avalanche, the eruption of the volcano."
"One gathers its loudness is stimulating."
"Yes, and the rhythms,” said Peisistratus.
"They speak of blood, and life, and excitement,” said Cabot.
"They have their drums,” said Peisistratus, “and we have ours, as well."
"Yes,” said Cabot, “of war, and the march, sometimes to measure the stroke of oars, occasionally to signal the opening and closing of markets, of gates, and such."
"There are subtle drums, too, demanding, insistent, maddening, exciting, sensuous drums, of course,” said Peisistratus.
"True,” said Cabot.
This was presumably an allusion to the use of drums, together with other instruments, we may suppose, in slave dance, a form of dance in which a type of human female, the female slave, helpless and vulnerable, as all female slaves, ornamented, and beautifully if scarcely clothed, dances her beauty, hoping to be found pleasing by masters. If she is not, she knows she may be whipped, perhaps slain.
The drums were suddenly silent.
One could now hear Kurii, moving in the tiers, eager, expectant.
"It begins?” asked Cabot.
"Yes,” said Peisistratus.
"It is here that Lord Pyrrhus will attest his innocence against Agamemnon, Kur to Kur."
"Yes."
"Lord Pyrrhus is large and powerful,” said Cabot. “Agamemnon must be courageous indeed to face such a foe."
"Doubtless,” said Peisistratus. “Would you like me to purchase you a treat?"
"No,” said Cabot.
"Look,” said Peisistratus, pointing to the sand, several feet below.
There a Kur was bent under a large piece of meat, which he deposited in the center of the arena. He then exited, and the meat lay there, a mound, in the sun.
Cabot grasped the bars, angrily.
"It is tarsk,” said Peisistratus.
Cabot released the bars.
At that moment, on opposite sides of the arena, from gates at the level of the sand, there emerged two large sleen.
"They are starving,” said Peisistratus.
Both animals seemed to rush toward the meat. One reached it first, and thrust his muzzle into it, tearing it, ripping out gluts of meat, and gorging them, but then the other sleen was upon it, and the two animals rolled in the sand, in a frenzy of snapping, and clawing, and in moments the jaws of each were bloody, and gouts of fur had been torn from the pelt of each, and then, suddenly, one had the throat of the other, and tore it open, and then, as the torn animal crouched down bleeding, and subsided, and rolled to its side, the victor busied himself with the meat.