He looked at them, shaking his head, wildly.
They looked away, as though failing to comprehend his gesture.
At this point, from across the grass, at last, from the place of the last tarn basket, where it had landed some two hundred yards away, cautiously, came Tersius Major. With him were two archers and a strapmaster. He paused at the edge of the camp.
The subcaptain, with a gesture of contempt, waved him forward.
“All is secure?” inquired Tersius Major.
“Yes,” said the subcaptain.
Tersius Major surveyed Portus Canio and his party.
“We meet again,” said Portus Canio. His hands moved, ever so slightly, as though they might consider wrapping themselves about the throat of Tersius Major.
“You will pay, tharlarion of Ar,” said Tersius Major, “for the inconvenience, the humiliation, you have caused me.”
“You are less than an urt of Ar,” said Portus Canio, “for you have betrayed your Home Stone.”
“Not at all,” said the officer. “It is only that his Home Stone is not yours. His is, you see, far more valuable. It is gold.”
“What is going on here?” asked Tersius Major.
“We have conquered,” said the officer. “He who kneels before you is, I take it, first amongst our conspirators.”
“We know nothing of your charges!” said the spokesman.
One of the two sleen lifted its head, and looked about, briefly. Its ears were erected. Its nostrils flared for a moment. And then it put its head down. The other had its head on its paws.
“Where is the lightning?” asked Tersius Major, hesitantly.
“I think it is gone, or most of it,” said the subcaptain. “But some of the metal clouds from which it strikes are there.” He indicated the discarded pistols. “One lightning bolt allegedly lies within the nearest device. One device seems to be missing.”
“We do not know where it is!” said the spokesman. “It is lost, doubtless somewhere in the grass!”
Tersius Major’s eyes went from face to face, from Portus Canio, to Fel Doron, to Selius Arconious, to their other fellow, and thence to the kneeling spokesman, to the sleenmaster, to Mirus, to the wounded man. Eight men. The Cosians had some twenty soldiers at the wagon. Two tarns, unattended, with their baskets, were in the fields.
Then the eyes of Tersius Major glittered on the kneeling slave, tunicked, bound, the remainder of the rope leash, which had been slashed by Mirus’s blade, still on her neck.
“Greetings, little Ellen,” he said.
“Greetings, Master,” said Ellen.
“She is a sleek little beast,” said Tersius Major. “It will be a pleasure to own her.”
“Her disposition will be decided by higher authority,” said the officer. “I may ask for her myself. I think she will be lovely, curled in the furs at my feet.”
“We shall see about that,” said Tersius Major.
“It is not impossible that a praetor may speak for her, even a stratigos or a polemarkos.”
“She is worthy,” said Selius Arconious, “to be kept as no more than a pot girl, or a kettle-and-mat girl, or perhaps as a shaved-headed, hobbled camp slut.”
Ellen flushed, angrily.
“You should look more closely,” said the officer.
Ellen smiled at Selius Arconious, innocently. There was perhaps the flicker of a tiny triumph in her glance.
“One might always strip her, and make an assessment,” said Selius Arconious.
Ellen jerked suddenly, inadvertently, angrily at her bound wrists. She looked up angrily at Selius Arconious. He smiled down at her, benignly. She choked back a sob of frustration. She was in her place, before him, kneeling, helplessly bound, a slave.
“You are a clever fellow,” said the officer.
“Strip her,” said Tersius Major.
“I will not strip the slave here,” said the subcaptain, “for her figure is such that it might distract my men. And by the coasts of Cos, even tunicked, it is such as might drive a man wild.”
He regarded Ellen.
“You will not figure in these matters, the matters of men, pretty little slave girl,” said the officer to Ellen. “No more than a caged tarsk or a tethered kaiila, or any other domestic animal. But do not fear. You will not be forgotten.”
“Yes, Master,” whispered Ellen, in the full understanding of her condition and nature. She would remain kneeling and bound, meaningless, a slave, awaiting her disposition. Men on this world, she had learned, had not relinquished their sovereignty. They had not, on this world, permitted themselves to be deluded into subscribing to practices and institutions which carried within them the pathological seeds of the subversion of nature. The human being is the child of nature. Once he abandons nature he ceases to be human.
“You understand that you are meaningless, do you not?” asked the officer.
“Yes, Master,” said Ellen.
“Such fluff as she,” he said, “is for the entertainment of men, for the sport of men, of masters. That is what they are good for, nothing else.”
Ellen flushed crimson, but her body came alive with femininity. It shuddered with meaning. Each cell in her body seemed to awaken and glow, to tremble with understanding. Each chromosome in her body seemed to quiver with vulnerability, each particle of her body seemed to burn with expectation, with readiness. This is the passion of a slave, she thought. How honestly they speak of us. How truly they speak of us! How do they know these truths? How bold they are to enforce them! Can I not, somehow, hide myself from the truths they see so clearly? No, she thought, in my collar I am not permitted to hide. Yes, yes, she thought, they speak truths, mighty truths, lovely truths, deep truths, incontrovertible truths, precious truths, yes, such as I are indeed for the entertainment of men, for the sport of men, of masters! It is that for which we exist, and desire to exist, the pleasure of men, the entertainment of men, the sport of men, of masters! It is that for which evolution has prepared us! Oh, dark, mysterious, subtle, beloved mighty forces of nature! How the world has so casually shaped our species, with such bountiful, thoughtless beneficence, shaping with wise, terrible, tender hands both men and women, giving us as gifts to one another, that they as masters will not be denied their slaves, and that we as slaves will not be denied our masters! Deny me not my subjection to the mastery, dear masters, for in that cruelty you deny me to myself!
“We must seek out the purloined fortune,” said Tersius Major. “I do not think that Lurius of Jad will be pleased if it is not recovered.”
The officer turned to the sleenmaster. “Prepare to set your sleen to hunt.”
“No!” cried the spokesman, half rising, but thrust down again.
“I will not do so,” said the sleenmaster. “And no other here knows the signals!”
“You had no sleen in the camp,” said the officer. “Thus these are not your sleen. You have rented them. They will then respond to general signals, common to many such rented animals.”
“No, no!” said the sleenmaster. “Signals pertinent to these beasts were conveyed to me at the kennels. None here know them, save I, and I will not set them to hunt.”
“That is surprising,” said the officer, “but easily tested.” He regarded the sleenmaster. “Remove his clothing, as well,” he said, “and we will see if the sleen may be put afoot.”
“No!” cried the sleenmaster. “No! I will do as you bid!”
“No!” cried the spokesman.
The sleen, perhaps recognizing the name of their kind, had lifted their heads.
“Surely you have something to contribute to the solution of this mystery, the whereabouts of Cosian gold, you who are first here,” speculated the officer.
“I know nothing of it, truly!” cried the spokesman. “The others, those, must know!” He looked about, wildly. He pointed to Portus Canio. “He!” he cried.