It seemed he knew me.
I did not acknowledge this.
Tajima looked at me, puzzled. He had heard me referred to as Bosk of Port Kar, in the pavilion of Lord Nishida, but he knew me, primarily, surely, as Tarl Cabot, a tarnsman. I gathered he knew little or nothing of Bosk of Port Kar, or of the port itself.
“I accorded you an opportunity,” I said, “to come forth from the stable, disarmed, and depart in peace.”
“Surely it was a ruse,” he said.
“But you did not come forth,” I said.
“It seems the slave has value, after all,” he smiled.
“Every pretty slave has value,” I said. “This one might be worth as much as a silver tarsk.”
A tremor coursed the body of the slave. A man was conjecturing what might be her sales price, what might bring her into the hands of anyone, anyone whomsoever, who possessed the requisite coin or coins.
“Two,” suggested Licinius.
There are few things which so convince a woman that she is a slave, as to hear her value candidly discussed, in terms of prices, markets, and such. She then has a better sense of what she is worth, as what she is, as a collar property, to masters. A free woman, of course, is priceless, and thus, in a sense, without value. A slave, on the other hand, is not priceless, and thus has an actual value, a particular value, usually what men will pay for her. Slave girls, in their vanity, for they, as other women, are vain creatures, often compete on the slave block, each trying to bring a price higher than the others. Also, of course, there is a supposition that the higher the price the wealthier the master, and thus, hopefully, the easier and more comfortable will be the girl’s bondage. On the other hand, it is not unoften the case that the girl so purchased will find herself expected to do the work of, and supply the pleasure of, several slaves. It is not unusual, too, when a slave is introduced into a house, no matter what her purchase price may have been, that she will be bound and whipped, this to let her know that in that house she is truly a slave, and no more than a slave. Often, interestingly, the plainer girls purchased by the less well-fixed masters enjoy a bondage which, though strict and absolutely uncompromising, as is the Gorean way, might be the envy of many slaves who went for higher prices. The slave is grateful for the master, and the master is grateful for the slave. The relationship of female slave and male master, though one established, sanctioned, and enforced by law, is founded obviously on one common in nature, that of, so to speak, the conquered, possessed female and the conquering, possessing male. Indeed, legal bondage is an institutionalization of, and an enhancement of, a natural relationship, the male who, in a very real sense, owns, and the female who, in a very real sense, is owned, as much as a bow or spear. The rightfulness and naturalness of the relationship, so sanctioned by nature, and a thousand generations of selection, often leads to love. It is not unknown, accordingly, for a master and slave to discover, one day, and often sooner than later, that they are in love, that they are now love master and love slave. Let him beware now that he does not become easy with his girl. Indeed, she does not wish that, for her love for him is that of a slave.
“Surely you were not serious, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima. “This man would have slain Lord Nishida, he fled, he brought foes to our camp, he is a spy, he fought against us!”
“You would have permitted me to depart?” said Licinius.
“Yes,” I said.
“Surely not!” exclaimed Tajima.
“If so,” said Licinius, “I beg the sword, its quickness, its mercy!”
“No,” said Tajima.
“Will the knife do?” I asked Licinius.
“Surely!” he cried, gratefully.
“Never!” said Tajima. “What are you doing?” he said.
I had slashed away the straps binding the ankles of Licinius, and he struggled to his feet.
“Into the trees,” I instructed him, indicating the direction.
Gratefully he turned, stumbling toward the woods.
“Wait for the Ashigaru,” said Tajima.
“I dislike ugly deaths,” I said to him.
“Tajima’s hand was on the hilt of his gently curved sword.
“Would you draw against me?” I asked.
“No,” said Tajima. He removed his hand from the hilt of the sword.
I knew he did not fear to do so, even though he were newer to the roads of war than I. I was pleased he was unwilling to do so. How mighty, I thought, are the bonds of friendship. How sturdy stands, too, the banner of honor, even in the tempest, even on trembling ground.
“I must report this to Lord Nishida,” said Tajima.
“I know,” I said.
“Make it last,” said Tajima. “Let it be a thousand cuts. Perhaps Lord Nishida will be satisfied.”
“It is I who must be satisfied,” I said.
“He is your prisoner,” granted Tajima.
I then, the knife still in hand, followed Licinius into the darkness of the woods. He had not run, but was waiting for me.
“Thank you, Warrior,” he said. “Be swift, if you would.”
“You are unarmed,” I informed him. “You are far from villages, even huts. And you know not their locations, or your directions. There are larls in the woods but, hopefully, they are now well fed, and sleeping. You are without weapons and supplies. Many are the dangers in the forest. I do not expect you to survive.”
“What are you doing?” he asked, wonderingly.
“I am cutting you free,” I said.
“Free?” he whispered.
“Others will think you slain in the woods,” I said. “By the time they search for a body, you should be well away.”
He moved his arms, and rubbed his wrists.
“You would have let me depart in peace?” he said. “Truly?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“I gave you my word,” I said.
“I do not understand,” he said.
“It is called honor,” I said. “Now, begone, quickly!”
“I will survive,” he said.
“Perhaps,” I said.
He then turned and disappeared into the darkness, between the trees.
In a few moments I had returned to Tajima, Pertinax, and the slave.
“Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima, “your knife is not bloody.”
“It seems not,” I said, and sheathed it.
“Perhaps you broke his back or neck, or strangled him,” said Tajima.
“Perhaps,” I said.
“I will send Ashigaru to recover the body,” he said.
“Have them wait until morning,” I said.
“Lord Nishida will not be pleased,” said Tajima.
“Have them wait until morning,” I said.
“Very well, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima.
I then turned to the slave, who was still kneeling, slimly erect, hands down on thighs, head up, in nadu. She had not been given permission to break position.
“You were spared,” I said to her. “You could have had your throat cut, and been thrust from the saddle to the forests below, shortly after the flight had begun, as soon as it became clear there was no obvious pursuit. You were extra weight for the tarn to carry and would thus reduce its speed and shorten its range.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, not daring to look at me.
“But you were spared.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Though only a slave,” I said.
“Yes, Master.”
I did not tell her that now, too, another had been spared.
“You must clearly understand,” I said, “that you needed not have been spared.”
She gasped, in sudden terror.
“No,” I said, “slave.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
Her situation, of course, had been unusual, for, after the first few moments of her flight, she would have been little more than a hampering burden to the fugitive, and yet he had not disposed of her. She was fortunate. Licinius Lysias had spared her. I had spared him.