She would have, thus, protected the honor of the Ubar.
Marlenus and his men disappeared into the forest.
I looked at the uprooted, strewn logs of the palisade, scattered on the stones by Marlenus’ men. “Thurnock,” I said, “gather these logs, those from the stockade, and with them build a beacon.” He looked at me. His eyes were sad. “There will be none to see it,” he said, “but I will build it. I will build a beacon the light of which will be seen fifty pasangs at sea.” I did not know why I would build such a beacon. There would be few to see it on Gor. And none, ever, would see it on the planet Earth. And if some should see it, who should understand it? I myself did not know why I built it or what its flames might mean.
I turned to Sheera.
“You did well in the stockade,” I said. “You are free.”
I had already, the night preceding, on the Tesephone, freed Vinca, the red-haired girl, and the two paga slaves, the dark-haired one, and the blond one, who had assisted her.
They would be given gold, and conducted in honor and safety to their cities. “Very well,” she said. There were tears in her eyes. She had known I would free her.
“A cripple,” I said, “had no need of a beautiful slave.”
She kissed my arm. “I care for you,” she said, “sweet Bosk of Port Kar.” “Is it your wish to remain with me?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No,” she smiled.
I nodded.
“No, sweet Bosk,” she said. “It is not because you are crippled.”
I looked at her, puzzled.
“Men,” she laughed, “understand so little.” She put down her head. “Men are fools,” she said, “and women are greater fools for they love them.” “Remain with me then,” I said.
“It was not my name you cried out,” she said, tears in her eyes, “when you lay in fever in the cabin of the Tesephone.” I looked out to sea.
“I wish you well, sweet Bosk of Port Kar,’ said she.
“I wish you well, Sheera,” said I. I felt her kiss my hand, and then she went to Thurnock, that he might remove her collar, that she, like Verna, might disappear into the forest. Marlenus had said that the wind on the beach was cold, and had stung his eyes. Too, it stung my eyes.
“Rim,” said I.
“Captain,” said he.
“You are captain of the Rhoda,” I said. “Weigh anchor with the tide.” “I will, Captain,” said he.
“You know what you are to do?” I asked.
“Yes,” said he. “I will sell those in the hold, the men of Tyros who crewed the Rhoda and Tesephone, in Port Kar.” “Is there nothing else?” I asked.
He grinned. “Yes,” said he. “We shall, first, journey up the Laurius to Laura. We will have business with one named Hesius of Laura, who sent paga slaves and drugged wine to our camp. I shall burn the tavern. His women will find themselves in our chains. We shall bring them to Port Kar and dispose of them there in the slave markets.” “Good,” I said.
“And Hesius himself?” he asked.
“His strong box,” I said, “must be seized. Distribute its contents to the poor of Laura.” “And Hesius himself?” asked Rim.
“Strip him and leave him poor and penniless in Laura.” I said. “he will serve our purposed well in telling and retelling, for a coin, the story of the vengeance of those of Port Kar.” “Our ships should be safe thereafter in Laura,” said Rim.
“I expect so,” I said.
“I must attend to arrangements,” said Rim.
“Be about your duties” said I, “Captain.”
Rim, followed by Cara, turned about and went to a longboat.
Verna’s women, one by one, were now taking leave of those of my men, whom they had served.
They, some weeping, some turning about, tears in their eyes, lifting their hands, bade crewmen farewell.
The men stood on the sand and watched them depart. Some lifted their hands to them.
Then suddenly one girl turned from the forest and fled to a crewman, kneeling before him, back on her heels, head down, arms extended, wrists crossed as though for binding. He gestured that she should rise and get into a longboat. She did so, his slave.
To my amazement, one after another of the girls than ran down the beach. Each, before he who had touched her, knelt before him, making herself his and his alone.
She, too, was ordered to a longboat, abruptly, as one commands a slave. In the forest Verna would wait for her women, until she understood they were not coming.
I then understood her wisdom as I had not before. She had known the touch of a man, and such a man as Marlenus. She had feared his touch, and, even in parting, would not permit him to so much as place his hand on hers. In Verna, as in others, two natures warred, that to surrender and that to be free. These matters are complex, and much remains speculative. Goreans, in their simplistic fashion, often contend, categorically, that man is naturally free and woman s naturally slave. But even for them the issues are more complex than these simple formulations would suggest. For Example, there is no higher person, nor one more respected, than the Gorean free woman. Even a slaver who has captured a free woman often treats her with great solicitude until she is branded. Then his behavior toward her is immediately and utterly transformed. She is then merely an animal, and treated as such. Goreans do believe, however, that every woman has a natural master or set of masters, with respect to whom she could not help but be a complete and passionate slave girl. These men occur in her dreams and fantasies. She lives in terror that she might meet one in real life. Further, of course, if a girl should be enslaved, her slavery is supported by the entire Gorean culture. There are hundreds of thousands of women who are also slaves. In such a situation, with no escape, a girl has no choice but to make the best of her bondage. Further, in the Gorean view, female slavery is a societal institution which enables the females, as most Earth societies would not, to exhibit, in a reinforcing environment, her biological nature. It provides a rich soil in which the flower of her beauty and nature, and its submission to a man, may thrive.
The Goreans, do not believe, incidentally, that the human being is a simple function of the independent variables of his environment. They have never endorsed the “hollow body” theory of human beings, in which a human being is regarded as being essentially a product of externalities. They recognize the human being has a genetic endowment which may not be, scientifically, canceled out in favor of the predilection of theories developed by men incompetent in physiology. For example, it would not occur to a Gorean to speak of the “role” of a female sparrow feeding her young or the “role” of a lion in providing meat for its cubs. Goreans do not see the world in terms of metaphors taken from the artificialities of the theater. It is certain, of course, that certain genetic endowments have been selected by environmental considerations, and, in this sense, the environment is a significant factor. The teeth of the lion have had much to do with the fleetness of the antelopes.