“That is very rare amongst slaves,” he said.
“I was purchased with that in mind,” she said, “that I might be presented so to some high and worthy person, perhaps an ally, or guest, of the empire.”
“An interesting forethought,” he said.
“It seems so,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said, “to one such as I?”
“I know not, of course,” she said.
“Of course not,” he said.
“In view of my newness to the collar,” she said, “and the comity with which I am sure you would hold a former free woman of the empire, I would crave your indulgence.”
“In what way?” he asked.
“You are not unfamiliar with the ways of the empire,” she said. “You learned them, at least, on the Narcona. You must have observed the manners of gentlemen, such as our noble officers, Lysis and Corelius. I petition then, though I am naught but a miserable and lowly slave, to be accorded, for moments at least, in view of my antecedents, some respect and civility.”
“You wish to be treated somewhat as though you might be a free woman?” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“At least for a moment?” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Civilitas,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“Not barbaritas,” he said.
“No,” she said.
“You have seen your gentlemen in certain settings, incidentally, not others,” said the barbarian.
“I am sure they are gentlemen,” she said.
“Some gentlemen,” he said, “know well the purposes and uses of slaves. Some gentlemen are cunning, shrewd, dangerous, intelligent, and powerful, superb and uncompromising Masters. The empire, I assure you, in all its wealth, in all its expanse and depth, in all its might and terror, was not founded by, nor enlarged and maintained by, weaklings.”
“Still,” she said.
“You do not wish to be whipped, or used as a pig?”
“No, Master,” she said.
“Though a slave?”
“Though a slave,” she said.
“Some women find it instructive to be used as a pig,” he said.
“Please, Master!” she said.
“What then would you have me do, and how would you have me be?” he asked.
“Be kind,” she said. “Realize my fears, and feelings. Permit me to ascend the surface of the couch, as might be permitted a high or preferred slave, and permit me, too, in deference to my shyness, modesty, and timidity, to conceal myself within the furs, as might a free woman. And then join me there, tenderly and sweetly.”
“I see,” said the barbarian, skeptically.
“Please, Master!” she said.
“How then will you learn your collar?” he said.
“It need not be taught to me tonight,” she said.
“You must learn it,” he said.
“Not tonight, not now,” she said. “Please, please be kind to a lowly, frightened, miserable slave.”
“I am to remove my own robe?” he asked.
“No, no,” she said. “I will do so.”
She rose to her feet, and, going behind him, lifted the long, flowing, white dinner robe from his broad shoulders.
She was uneasy, gazing on the breadth of that back. She resisted the impulse to lean forward, and touch it gently, timidly, with her lips.
No, she thought, no!
How terrible it would be, she thought, to be a slave!
She looked to the side.
The knife, beneath the covers, was close.
She was holding the robe before her, in two hands. She considered casting it down and darting to the knife. It would take a moment to throw back the furs and get her hands on the implement.
He turned to face her.
She must wait!
“Why are you clutching the robe so?” he asked. “You might wrinkle it.”
“Forgive me, Master,” she said.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”
“You may fold the robe and place it in the chest,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said. “Thank you, Master.”
She then folded the robe, went to the chest, opened it, and placed the robe within it, carefully. Uneasily she noted certain articles within the chest, thongs, coils of cord, some lengths of chain, such things. Too, she noted, dully gleaming, reflecting the light of the nearest lamp, slender and attractive, metal slave cuffs. How easily, she thought, and how effectively, a slave might be rendered helpless!
She was facing away from him.
“I plead to be permitted the surface of the couch,” she said.
“Very well,” he said.
“Master is kind to a poor, miserable slave,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he said.
I have won, she thought, elatedly. What a fool he is! How could a simple, crude barbarian, a boor of the fields or forests, from some tiny village or remote farm, but succumb to the wiles and cleverness of a woman of the empire, one of the honestori, one even of the patrician class, even of the senatorial class itself!
“Hold,” he said.
“Master?” she said.
“Turn about,” he said.
She did not think she could run to the couch. She must be patient.
He went to the chest, now behind her, which was still open, and withdrew something from it. It was a short thong.
“Master?” she said, uneasily.
He was now before her.
“Master?” she said.
He bound her wrists together, crossed, before her body, at the center of the thong, and, with its loose ends, tied them about the chain on her neck. Her hands, then, bound closely together, were fastened before her, just below her chin.
She tried to separate her hands, fruitlessly. The chain pulled against the back of her neck.
“Master!” she protested.
The barbarian then lifted her, easily, and threw her, feet away, to the surface of the vast couch, where she tumbled, and rolled amidst the furs.
She scrambled to her knees on the couch. She feared to stand, lest she lose her balance, and fall.
She felt a mighty hand grasp her hair, and jerk her head back. She cried out. She tried to free her hands. The chain shook on her neck, the pendant metal disk, with its three languages, including its pictograph, shook, and rattled against the sturdy links of her collar, the slave necklace. Then she was touched as a slave may be touched. She shrieked with dismay. Her knees moved, wildly. Her body shook. Her fingers twisted. She jerked at the thong and chain holding her hands together, helplessly, at her collar. She could scarcely move. She could not defend the sweet, exposed latitudes of her vulnerable beauty, no more than a slave. Then she was touched, again. Again she shrieked, with dismay, and misery. She wanted to cry out, “Desist! Desist! I am a free woman! I am a free woman!” but she knew she must not do so. Too, she was in the hands of a barbarian. Would such a cry deter a man, any man, from the prey designed for him by nature?
“Civilitas!” she cried. “Civilitas!”
The barbarian then did desist.
“Civilitas!” she wept.
The mighty hand was removed from her hair.
“Free my hands, Master,” she begged. “Free my hands, if not for my sake, for yours! I am bound! So tethered, so helpless, how can I please you? I would touch you. I would hold you! I would caress you! I long for you! I want you! How can I, so bound, please you, and caress you? Free my hands! Free my hands!”
He then reached to her throat, to free her hands.
8
“There!” cried Tuvo Ausonius, pointing.
A blast of fire rushed forth from the rifle of Julian, of the Aureliani, and one of the large beasts spun a dozen feet into the air, twisting, and howling, alit with fire, the darkness of the now heavily clouded night suddenly blinded with light, an incongruous instant of heat and noontide in the cold, bitter darkness.
“Another!” said Tuvo, discharging his own weapon, brought from Venitzia.
In the moment of brightness, the men had seen two of the creatures tearing at, and devouring, one of their own, struck by earlier fire.