"Hold," said a soldier, his spear held across his body, behind the barrier. Mincon uttered a password. The barrier was opened. It was a relief to walk freely. Some two hundred yards down the street we could see another segment of the crowd, it, too, doubtless, waiting behind some barrier. We then, in a few Ehn, passed that barrier, and then another.
To one side, when we crossed the first of these second two barriers, there was a great pile of objects. In it were such things as furniture, cushions, rugs, wall hangings, tapestries, bolts of cloth, robes, clothes, chests, coffers, utensils, vessels, and plates. A soldier went to the pile and emptied a pillow-case out at its foot. I supposed that its spillage, a short, clattering rain of goblets, would scarcely be noticed in such an accumulation. Yet, doubtless, in just such a way had that mountain of artifacts been constructed. It was more than ten feet high. It was cheap booty, probably on the whole to be sold by contract to dealers.
"Look!" said Boabissia, pointing ahead and to our left, as we crossed an intersection, that beyond the third barrier.
There, some fifty yards away, kneeling, huddled together against the brick wall of a public building, the wall composed of the flat, narrow bricks common in southern Gorean architecture, was a group of some one hundred to one hundred and fifty females. They were naked. They were chained together by the neck. They were in the keeping of two soldiers, with whips.
"More booty," said Mincon.
"Slaves!" said Boabissia disparagingly, in disgust.
"Or to be slaves," said Mincon.
"Oh," said Boabissia, frightened.
"Surely they are slaves," I said.
"Many," said Mincon, "are the women, and daughters, of those who were adherents of Cos in Torcadino. They, thus, have been apprehended for branding and bondage."
"I see," I said.
"Their seizure lists were prepared weeks ago," he said.
"Of course," I said. An action of the sort now accomplished in Torcadino, in which judicious selections and discriminations are to be made among the civilian populace, necessitates a sensitive preparation.
We were now closer to the women.
One of them stood but, immediately, the lash fell upon her, and she returned to her knees, sobbing. "Hands on thighs," called the soldier, "spread your knees, back straight, chin up!" He pushed up her chin with the coiled whip. She looked straight ahead, tears streaming down her face. "You will be struck twice more," he said. She cried out in misery, twice, each time shaken, each time almost thrown forward on her belly to the pavement. The blows were perfunctory, but, I suppose, to the one who receives them, they seemed intensely personal and meaningful. "Position," said the soldier. She resumed the position to which she had been earlier commanded, promptly and exactly. In her eyes now, with their tears, there was also fear and contrition. Now that we were closer I could see that the women were all on a single chain, fastened on it by side-loops, of the same chain, secured with sturdy padlocks. It is a simple, practical, inexpensive arrangement. On the upper portion of their left breasts there were numbers written.
"Oh!" said a bound girl, being brought to the group.
"Oh!" said Boabissia, at the same time. She had turned about, from watching the disciplining of the neck-chained girl, and struck against the new girl. "Clumsy slave!" cried Boabissia, angrily. Twice then, angrily, she struck the new girl with the sides of her small fists. The new girl was, by the solider in whose custody she was, thrust rudely to the pavement before Boabissia, his hand in her hair, forcing her head down to Boabissia's sandals. "Beg forgiveness!" he said.
"Forgive me! Forgive me!" wept the new girl.
" "Forgive me, what?" asked the soldier, tightening his grip in her hair. "Forgive me, Mistress!" wept the new girl, her head down, her back bent forward, her small hands twisting helplessly in the cords that held them behind her back. "Clumsy slave!" scolded Boabissia.
"Forgive me, Mistress," wept the girl. As far as I could see the new girl was not a slave. She was, at least, neither branded nor collared. On the other hand, doubtless she was destined to soon receive those lovely adornments proclamatory of the uncompromising condition of Gorean bondage, those adornments which so enhance the beauty of a woman, those adornments significatory that all institutional niceties pertinent to her bondage have been properly and legally completed. Accordingly, the fellow was doubtless being quite merciful, and helpful, to the female. He was preparing her, in a small way, not for what it would be her role in life, but for what in her new life would be her total and uncompromising actuality.
"Kiss her feet," said the soldier.
Obediently the frightened girl kissed Boabissia's feet, desperately, fervently. "Clumsy slave," said Boabissia, angrily.
"Please forgive me, Mistress," wept the girl.
The soldier drew up her head and bent her backwards, before Boabissia. "Shall I kill her for you? he asked. I saw the girl had a number, like the others, written on the upper portion of her left breast, I gathered that he had been sent to pick her up, and to mark her with that number. It had to do with records.
"No," said Boabissia. "That will not be necessary."
The soldier pulled the girl up straight, and released her hair. She remained kneeling before us, her head down. "Thank you, Mistress," she whispered. "Sir," said the soldier, suddenly straightening his body.
"Lift you head and throw your hair behind your back, girl," said the officer, newly arrived, come up from the side, with a backing board and sheaf of papers. "Put your head back as far as it will go," Immediately the girl complied. The officer then, there being no impediments now to his vision, checked the number on her left breast. He then referred to his papers, turning some over. "Name, female?" he asked the girl.
She began to shudder.
"Speak up, quickly, while you still have one," he said.
The soldier kicked her.
"Euphrosyne, Lady of Torcadino," she gasped.
"Family, and caste?" he inquired.
"Daughter of the matron Aglaia, Lady of Torcadino," she said, "of the Myrtos lineage, she high in the trade of spices, Confirmation Treasurer of the Spice Council of Torcadino, She of the Merchants."
"Ah, yes," said the officer. "I believe your mother is already on the chain." The girl looked about, wildly. Doubtless she would have covered her breasts, and nakedness, if she could have. What a foolish gesture in one who was soon to be a slave.
"I do not know if you will see her again, or not," he said, "except perhaps at a distance. Too, fraternization may not be permitted between slaves.
"I am not a slave," she moaned.
"Now," he said, for a moment or two more you may think of yourself as Euphrosyne, as your mother was hitherto permitted for a time to think of herself as Aglaia. In a time, of course, you may receive new names. "Euphrosyne' is a name a bit too fine, I think, for a slave. You will probably soon become something else, perhaps a «Puta or a "Sita." In the meantime, you are, for our purposes, and for your own purposes, Four-three-seven. That is your capture name, and you will think of yourself only as that. You may not inquire as to the former names of others nor reveal to them, even if they should ask, your own. Similarly, you may not make inquiries pertaining to such things as their families, stations and castes, nor reveal to others, even if asked, any such information pertaining to yourself. You are merely, and simply the captive Four-three-seven. Your mother, incidentally, is Two-six-one. You are now to think of her, as she is now to think of herself, as only that. She was more important than you, and thus has an earlier number."