“You are a lady,” said Julian.
“As much as I may be now,” she said.
“You are rich,” he said.
“There is wealth in my family,” she said. “But such things are meaningless to me now.”
“Your family are gold merchants,” said Julian. He did not say this approvingly. Like many of the high aristocracy he had a contempt for business and trade.
“Since yesterday iron and leather mean more to me,” she said.
“I do not understand,” said Julian.
“I have looked into the eyes of a master,” she said. “And now I know that I can only be happy in obedience, and in selfless love and service.”
“I do not understand,” said Julian.
“I now know that I can only be fully happy as a total slave.”
Julian looked down at her.
“I have learned myself,” she said. “I have looked into the eyes of a master. I am now a devotee of Dira.”
She then put her head down, to the feet of Otto, and kissed them.
“I would be yours,” she said.
“Do you understand what you are saying?” asked Julian.
She lifted her eyes to those of Otto.
Would he permit her to straighten her body, to kneel upright before him?
He did so.
“You do not understand what you are doing,” said Julian to the kneeling figure.
“Shall I open my robes?” she asked Otto.
“No,” said Otto.
“The collar,” said Julian, angrily, “is for thieves, debtors, criminals, barbarians.”
“No,” she said.
“It is for low women,” he said.
“No,” she said. “It is for women.”
“It is for those women who are unfortunate enough to find themselves put in it.”
“No,” she said.
“Women live in terror of the collar!”
“I do not,” she said.
“It is for those women who deserve it,” he said, “those for whom it is appropriate!”
“And for what woman is it not appropriate?” she asked.
“You beg the collar?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” she said, looking up at Otto. “I beg the collar!”
“Have you considered,” asked Otto, “what it might be, to be done with as masters please, to be bought and sold?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You are crying,” said Julian to her.
“Do you think you would have but one master?” asked Otto.
“I would expect, over time,” she said, “to have many masters. I would try to serve them well.”
“Doubtless, at times,” said Otto, “you would regret your decision, and find yourself terrified.”
“Yes,” she said, “and I would know myself helpless.”
This was she, or course, whom we had met the preceding day, she of the embroidered leel, who, having angered Otto, had been cuffed, who had had the leel torn down, to her hips, who had been forced, her hands held, to kneel down before him, as though she, though a fashionably dressed free woman, might be no more than a slave.
“You would belong to him?” asked Julian.
“Yes,” she said.
“Perhaps I would use you to breed slaves,” said Otto.
“Then that would be the will of my master,” she said.
“Perhaps I could try you out, and see how you are,” said Otto.
“I am untrained!” she said.
“You seem intelligent,” said Otto. “Perhaps you could learn.”
“I would apply myself with the greatest diligence!” she said.
Otto turned away from her and he, and Julian, walked a few paces, toward the edge of the plaza.
Behind them they heard a sob, and, turning, they saw the small figure, forlorn, behind them, still kneeling.
“If you wish,” said Otto, “you may follow me.”
With a cry of joy she sprang to her feet and, clutching the torn leel about her, hurried after them.
“Perhaps, on the way,” said Otto, “we might pass a slaver’s house.”
“There are some,” said Julian. “Papers could be prepared, the proper signatures affixed, and such.”
Julian turned to the woman, who was following them, a few paces behind, to the left.
“You understand,” he said, “that once such a thing is done, it is done?”
“Yes,” she said.
“You could even be purchased to serve in your own house,” he said, “and would be there then no more than any other slave.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I think the whole thing, though impeccably legal, is best handled quickly and quietly,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said Otto. “I think that that would be best for her.”
“You are concerned with her?”
“Certainly,” said Otto. “She is a free woman.”
“But later?”
“Then such things would not matter,” said Otto. “Then she would be only a slave.”
They continued on their way.
“What are your plans?” asked Otto.
“I am going to return to one of my family’s villas,” said Julian, “and there await word with respect to your commission.”
“The matter is being deliberated?” asked Otto.
“I suppose so,” said Julian.
“When will we hear?” asked Otto.
“I do not know when, or if, we will hear,” said Julian.
“You have enemies in the palace?” asked Otto.
“It would seem so,” said Julian.
“Iaachus?” asked Otto.
“Perhaps,” said Julian.
“The royal family?” asked Otto.
“I think that is quite likely,” said Julian.
“They fear you?”
“I think so,” said Julian.
“Are their fears justified?” asked Otto.
Julian turned about, and addressed the woman at their heels. “Lag back,” he said.
She slowed her pace until there were several feet between her and the pair she followed.
“Yes,” said Julian, irritably, to Otto.
Otto then turned about, and motioned that the woman should join them. When she did so, Otto put her before them, and they followed her, one on each side, she in the place of honor, a free woman.
“I do not think I should be here, before you,” she whispered.
“You are a free woman,” said Otto. “It is the place of honor. Precede us.”
“You might even remember, afterwards, if you care to,” said Julian, “how you were once such that you preceded free men.”
“I do not know where to go, where to turn,” she said.
“I will direct you,” said Julian.
She turned about.
They continued on their way. They kept to better streets. Afterward they could return to the port, more conveniently, through a poorer district.
“Turn right, here,” said Julian.
CHAPTER 17
“Send the slave, Flora, forward,” said the connoisseur.
The girl, whose house name was Flora, hurried forward, to kneel on the tiles before the connoisseur, her head down, to the tiles, the palms of her hands upon them, performing obeisance.
Following her forward were two leather-clad men, one on each side of her, who took their station on each side of her, and a little to the back. These were the keeper, or warder, of her corridor, and one of the trainers, to whose lot she had been assigned.
The connoisseur looked from the papers, attached to the clipboard he held, to the girl, and then back to the board.
“She has been whipped only three times,” said the connoisseur.
“Yes,” said the trainer, “the instructional whipping, once when I felt she did not obey quickly enough, only two strokes, and once because it pleased me to do so.”