Assent to this was added, also, by others.
"Do you deny this?" I asked her.
She was silent.
"She is a slave," said a man.
"Let her testimony be taken under torture," said another.
The testimony of slaves is commonly taken under torture in Gorean law courts. "Let us find a rack," said another.
The girl turned white. Perhaps when she was a free woman she had seen girls on the rack, though, of course, they would have been mere slaves.
"I drank from the high bowl," she said.
"Although you are a slave?" I said.
"Yes," she said.
"Why?" I asked.
"I was thirsty," she said.
"Speak truthfully," I said.
"I was thirsty!" she said.
"Thirst may be quenched at the lower bowl as well," I said.
She looked at me, angrily.
"Perhaps you forgot?" I said. "You were, after all, recently a free woman." She did not answer.
I did not seriously consider the possibility, of course, that she might have forgotten the matter. Too, slaves are not permitted to forget such things. It is up to them to remember them. Too, obviously one could claim to have forgotten the most elementary duties, tokens of respect, and such. Accordingly, forgetfulness does not excuse the commission of such acts. A slave seldom forgets them more than once. The whip is an excellent mnemonic device. I did, of course, wish to accord her the recourse of pretending to forgetfulness, if she cared to take advantage of it. It might serve to mitigate the wrath of the men about, at least somewhat. After all, she did not seem to realize that her life was in danger.
She threw a look at the other girls.
"You did not forget then," I said. "And you must have known that free men were about. Your act then was intended as some sort of provocation, or insult, or insolency or challenge?"
"She knew herself observed," said a fellow, "and then with intent, and deliberation, drank from the third level."
"My master would permit it!" she cried.
"That is probably true," laughed a fellow, contemptuously.
"Kneel, errant slave," I said.
She knelt, in terror.
I looked down at her, and pointed the first two fingers of my right hand to the ground, and then opened them. "You do not know the meaning of that sign?" I asked.
"No," she said, trembling.
"Her master is indeed weak," said a fellow.
I supposed her master must be a low-drive male.
"Spread your knees, widely," said another.
Frightened, the girl complied.
"Take her in hand," I said.
A fellow on either side of her then held her, each by a lifted wrist.
I looked at the other girls.
They, too, at my glance, knelt with their knees spread, widely.
"See!" said the one in silk. "My master has silked me!" He has put me in silk, as the slave I am! Do not hurt me! I am only a silked slave! That is all I have been given to wear. He is a man, a man!" The first girl in line, one of the three clad in the wool of the bounding hurt, did not dare to meet my eyes but drew the hem of her tunic up and back, higher on her legs, that more of her beauty might be bared. She, too, did not wish to face the wrath of masters. The other two in the wool of the bounding hurt quickly followed her example. They then all adjusted their tunics further in one way or another, one pulling down a bit on the «V» at her neck, the others pushing up the sleeves of their tunics to reveal more of their gracefully curved upper arms.
"Slaves!" chided the girl before me. She saw herself losing her grip upon them. "And what are you? I inquired.
"A slave!" she said.
I regarded her.
"a€”Master," she added.
"It is a serious thing you are charged with," I said.
She looked at me, angrily.
"You have drunk," I said, "from the wrong level of a fountain."
"What difference does it make," she asked, "what bowl of a fountain I drank from? It is a small thing!"
Anger coursed through the men present.
"It is not a small thing," I said. "Such things are symbols of rank and hierarchy, of difference and distance. They like at the foundation of a natural society, one in accord with the aristocracy of nature, a society in which there are places for both heroes and slaves. They speak of ordered arrangements. All are not the same. All are not leveled, nor must they pretend to be. Such a flat, crushed world, without difference and meaning, lies to the ruled and makes liars of the rulers. It imposes fraud upon one and hypocrisy upon the other. In an unnatural world, the same, as all cannot be the best, there is no alternative, if all are to be the same, then to reduce the best to the level of the worst, at least in pretense. Do you not think the intelligent, the strong, the aggressive, even the evil, will rule, under whatever forms are convenient? The larl, as a larl, must survey verr, or sleen will tend them, pretending to be themselves verr."
She looked up at me.
"You did not truly think it a small thing," I said, "otherwise you would not have done it."
She struggled a little, but could not, of course, free herself from the grip of the men. then, under my stern gaze, she again spread her knees, so that they were again in the position, precisely, in which I had instructed her to have them.
"You challenged the men of Ar," I said. "But you did not expect the challenge to be accepted. You expected them to yield to their defeat, perhaps pretending not to notice it."
She struggled again a bit, and was then again as she was before.
"But it has been noticed," I said.
"I saw girls drinking from the high bowls last month!" she said.
"That was last month," I said.
"You cannot punish me!" she cried. "You are not my masters!"
"Any free person can punish an errant slave girl," I said. "Surely you do not think that her behavior fails to be subject to supervision and correction as soon as she is out of her master's sight?"
"Take me to my master!" she begged. "Let him punish me, if he wishes to do so!"
"We will attend to the matter," I said.
"No!" she wept.
I looked at the others. "And you, too," I suggested, "are errant slaves."
"No, Master!" they wept. "No, Master!"
"You cannot seriously intend to punish me!" said Filomela. "I was a free woman!"
"That is where most slaves come from," I said. I turned to the other slaves. "Were you not all once free women?" I asked.
"Yes, Master!" they said.
"But I was of high caste!" said Filomela.
"What was your caste?" I asked.
"The Builders!" she said.
"But you are not now of the Builders, or of any other caste, are you?" I asked. "No," she said.
"What are you?"
"A slave," she said.
"Accordingly," I said, "you may be punished as what you are, a slave."
Suddenly she laughed, in hysterical relief.
"What is wrong?" I asked.
"It is a joke!" she said. "It is a game you are playing, to turn about and trick these fools, to humiliate these defeated, bedraggled beasts!"
"I do not understand," I said.
"You, and your fellow, are of Cos," she said. "I see it on your armbands! It is your business to pacify the men of Ar, to keep them down, to suppress them, to keep them helpless, futile, confused, domesticated, tamed, subdued! Surely you have your orders to that effect. You can succeed in this, Ar is defeated. She is helpless. She is crushed. The entire might of Cos backs your authority! Grind down the men of Ar, as you should. Continue to keep them, as they have been kept, intimidated herds of prisoners incarcerated in their own city, encouraged to view the wretchedness of their lot as the evidence of some new triumph. And it is your intention to use me to help you in this, by permitting me to insult them, by permitting me to mock their manhood, to reduce their virility. Of course! I now understand! So now disband this rabble and release me!"
She made as though to rise.
"Remain on your knees, slave girl," I said.
"You must let me go, you must order my release, you must take me from these brutes, you must scold them, speak to them of laws and such, or something, anything!" she cried. "Defend me, us! I demand it! Release me! You must! I beg it! The men of Ar have been defeated! No longer are they men! No longer are they mighty and masters! They are now nothing, they are all weaklings! You are of Cos! You must keep them that way! It is important to you to keep them that way! Arrest them if they dare think again of pride and manhood, tangle them in rulings, trip them with laws, lie to them, confuse them, put them in prison, do not let them understand themselves, or become themselves, if necessary, put them to the sword! Burn Ar! Destroy it! Salt its ashes! Do you not understand how dangerous might probe to be manhood in Ar? You must not permit it! And you can use women like us to help you in your schemes, protecting us, and using us to diminish men! Let us be your allies in the conquest and subjugation of Ar! Surely you understand me? You are of Cos! You are of Cos!"