“Of the male?” echoed the Helda, afrown in lack of understanding. “For what reason would the male feel gratitude?”
“For such a reason,” said I, looking upon the male where he lay beside the warrior, upon one elbow, his head bowed by the defeat he had sustained. “Should this male have attempted with me what he attempted with this warrior, his blood would now be spread upon the floor cloth, staining it as he would have stained my honor. Males must ever attempt the use of warriors, to attain what ends they desire, caring naught for the warrior herself, merely for their desires. Once was I, too, used so cruelly, not for pleasure alone, only to serve the purpose of a male. The need of a warrior burns strong within her, difficult to deny, yet would I have denied it to see myself revenged upon this male. Give thanks to this warrior, male, that you retain what life is in you.”
The male looked upon me with pain in his eyes, knowing I spoke the truth the warrior beside him, a young Harra by the brown of her thrust-up clan covering, also gazed upon me, her frown much like that of the Helda beside me.
“You, too, were done so, war leader?” said she, shock and a good deal of indignation in her voice. “How might such a thing be possible?”
“All is as Mida wills it,” I shrugged, beyond the need for further explanations. “It was Mida’s will that I learn the soul-destroying agony of service to a male. The touch of this male gave you greater pleasure than any male before him, did it not?”
“Indeed,” nodded the warrior, sitting upon the floor cloth and turning her head to regard the male. “Never have I been made to feel such—abandon.”
“The thought will come that it would cause no harm to experience such again,” said I, without bitterness. “It is this, the desire to know such—abandon—again, which closes the warrior in a trap. You have surely engaged in trading for the Harra. Would you trade the freedom of the forests, the life of a warrior, to follow this male and serve his every need, to insure that this abandon would be yours forever?”
“Never!” gasped the Harra, shock and horror strong upon her, her agitation sending her to her feet and from the male. He, now deeply afrown, stared up at the manner in which she took herself from him, the disgust to be seen upon her face much like a blow delivered him.
“And yet this is the sole manner in which males and warriors might dwell together,” said I, pleased to see that those warriors who had earlier condemned the Harra, now stood themselves the closer in support of her. “A male must ever be served by the female he chooses, his word alone to be obeyed, his wishes alone to be seen to. Pleasure alone cannot compensate for the loss a warrior must endure, the loss of the life she has ever known. Should you wish the life of a slave-woman, seek again the arms of a male.”
“Would such a fate truly be so terrible?” asked the male, gazing upon the Harra. “To see to the needs of a man is a natural thing for a woman, the thing all women were made for. In turn would I defend your life with mine, hunt for you, feed and clothe you, give you my children to bear. We would each of us serve the other in our own way, and thus would we find happiness together. I see a great loveliness within you, wench, and when I succeed in escaping the chains of this place, it would please me to take you with me.”
“You are able to give deep pleasure, male,” said the Harra, her tone as sober as the dark of her eyes. “Such a thing would lure me greatly, and yet— Should it be my will to hunt the forests in your stead, to stand with naked blade before those who would challenge me, to leave what daughters I bear in the care of others and ride to battle with the sisters of my clan—how then would stand your views?”
“Such things would be totally unacceptable as well as unnecessary,” scoffed the male, rising to his feet to look down upon the warrior. “What need is there for you to hunt when I would do the thing? And how might a man look upon himself, should he allow his wench to stand protection for him? As for the matter of riding to battle—are my sons to be bereft of their mother and I bereft of my woman, due solely to the whim of others to spill blood? A woman’s place is by her hearth, not roving about forests and battlefields.”
“And not a word of standing together,” said I, seeing the shudder of horror touching the Harra, the disbelief and revulsion upon the faces of the others. “The sword of a warrior is unwelcome beside that of a male, the will of a warrior naught beside his. Do you wonder now, that the females of such as these are slaves? To use a male is great pleasure, to speak with him a waste of breath. Never will they see the thing through eyes other than their own.”
“In what other way is a man to see?” demanded the male, turning his anger upon me. “Though I now be chained here as a slave, I have not forever been a slave, nor shall I continue so forever. I am a man intending to be free, a man who wishes to see his woman safely beside him, a man who wishes what danger there is to fall upon his shoulders rather than hers. Is this so wrong?”
“And should your concept of safety destroy this female you profess to care for?” I countered, left hand upon sword hilt, anger in my voice. “Should she swear upon her life sign that the safety of your hearth would cause her to waste away, would you then release her? Would you return to her the freedom of the forests, or would you merely assure her that she would soon grow used to naught save caring for your dwelling and serving your needs? Would you release her, male?”
“I—would find it difficult,” said the male, his anger covered well by confusion and hurt. “It is difficult to believe such a thing would destroy a woman. I feel you speak through conviction brought about by experience, an experience painful to look back upon. Was it truly necessary to swear such a thing before you were released by the man who had claimed you?”
“I was not released,” I spat, then took greater control of my anger. The male before me was not the one who had refused to see my agony, the one who had seen no more than his own desires. That was another male, one for whom I had given away my soul. The male before me backed a pace, seeing that in my eyes which caused him to brace, as though against expected attack; therefore did I shake my head. “I was not released,” said I again, “yet the matter is not one to be discussed with males and captives. As this male is so eager to serve warriors, take him to the chamber of slaves and see that he receives the sthuvad drug. It is my command that he is to be used in no other way.”
“At once, war leader,” said one of the warriors, then did she and another force the male from the chamber at sword point. Twice did he look back, each time at the Harra, yet she, as a warrior, gazed musingly upon the sleeping forms of the remaining slave males, considering their possible use in place of the first male. She, I was sure, would not again heed the words of a male, nor allow him her use and her soul.
“In what way may we aid you, war leader?” said the Helda, not having left her place at my right arm. “Do you wish us to summon any of those who brought you here?”
“You may summon them all when once I have fed,” said I, turning to face her. “How much of the darkness remains before us?”
“It is less than two hind to Mida’s first light,” said the Helda, her eyes upon me. “Provender may be found upon those platforms against the far wall. It is only city-folk provender, yet is it— War leader! I do not understand what has occurred! Your wound, which I saw with my own eyes, is no more!”
“Calm yourself,” said I, placing my hand upon her shoulder to still the upset so plain in her eyes. “Were you not told that I ride in Mida’s cause, doing her bidding? It was her hand which healed my wound, so that I might continue her work undisturbed by distractions. Surely you understand the necessity for such?”
“Indeed, war leader, indeed do I understand,” said she, hastily yet very still beneath my hand. “Might I be allowed the honor of fetching your provender?”