"look upon her," I said. "Does not impalement in this case seem a waste of slut?"
Lady Claudia, a free woman, gasped, so spoken of. Yes, too, she shuddered with pleasure in her chains, realizing that she had been found worthy by a man to have so familiar, vulgar, and exciting an expression, and doubtlessly appropriately, applied to her.
"The question," said Aemilianus, "is not so much the suitability of the female for "helpless-slut' status as one of justice."
"I determined then in the cell," I said, "to take action, not merely, of course, for her sake, but for mine as well, as I could not know for certain what you would eventually decide in my case, nor could I count on being released from a burning citadel by Cosians. After all, they might not take more interest in their enemies' criminals, and such, than in their enemies themselves. Also, Lady Claudia was to be well fed that morning, and so this put sustenance in my way, of which I took advantage. Indeed, I perhaps ate better than any in Ar's Station that morning.
"Your action on behalf of Lady Claudia," he said, "was very nearly successful. Had it not been for the timely arrival of our friend Calliodorus, and certain mysterious others, she might now be in the chains of Cosians rather than in those of Ar's Station. But, as it turned out, Calliodorus, and others, did arrive, and she did not escape. We are prepared to overlook your attempt to abet her escape, serious though this is, in view of your action on the wall, and elsewhere."
"My position on the matter, however," I said, "has not changed." Lady Claudia rose to her knees, and turned, to face me, wildly. The former Lady Publia, the nameless, chained slave lying on her belly, on the deck, turned her head to look at me. Aemilianus' s slave, Shirley, too, regarded me, her eyes wide, frightened. Men stepped back a little, uneasily. More than one loosened the blade in his sheath.
"Do you approve of treason?" asked Aemilianus.
"Not generally," I said.
"Perhaps you approve of it, however," he asked, "in this specific case, in the case of the Lady Claudia?"
"Not at all," I said.
"Surely a polity, even if it be one of pirates, if it is to survive, if it is to protect itself, must establish some forms of justice and law within its own precincts?"
"One would suppose so," I said.
"Even if it is of the rack and spear." "I would suppose so," I said.
"By what title then would you presume to interfere, by that of the sword?" "Please, noble sir," wept the Lady Claudia. "Risk nothing for me, a traitress! You have too much imperiled yourself already on my behalf, so unworthy an object!"
"Were you given permission to speak?" I asked her.
She was silent, startled. She was, after all, a free woman.
"I have no intention of imperiling myself on your behalf," I informed her. She did not speak, confused.
"She looks well in slave chains, does she not?" I asked Aemilianus. "Yes," he said. She was a dream in such chains, and their meaning. It lacked only that she should wear them truly, as a slave."
"The men of Ar's Station," I said, "I would suppose, have no particular interest, personally, in impaling this female."
Several of the men laughed.
"On the high spear of public, legal impalement, of course," I added. There was more laughter.
The Lady Claudia shuddered, understanding what it might be to be at the mercy of men.
I turned to Aemilianus. "What do those of Ar's Station value most highly," I asked, "their justicea€”or their honor?"
Several of the men cried out, angrily. Lest some not understand their fury, let it be said, simply, that they were Goreans. Several hands grasped the hilts of swords.
"Their honor," said Aemilianus, quietly.
"I am not of Ar's Station," I said, "and I have little love for her. Indeed, I do not see why I should, as I was not well treated within her walls. But yet I have served her, and perhaps well. Is that not so?"
"It is so," said Aemilianus. "Indeed, had you not held the wall as long as you did, and the gate, and had you not aided in the evacuation of the landing, and had you not, with others, held the walkway until it could be destroyed behind you, I think there would be few of us here now who would be alive today." "Then perhaps you will not think the less of me if I ask a boon," I said.
"You will not assure us it was nothing?" smiled Aemilianus.
"Was it nothing?" I asked.
"No," he smiled. "It was not nothing."
"I ask a boon then," I said.
"I am surprised that you would do so," he said.
"Think of me then as a mercenary," I said, "and I am speaking of my pay." "We did not contract for your services," he said.
"I know," I said. "This is a matter of honor."
"Speak," I said.
"I ask the commutation of the sentence of impalement in the case of the Lady Claudia of Ar's Station."
"You do not ask for her freedom?" he asked.
"Of course not," I said. "She is guilty."
"You have no objection then," he said, "in view of her guilt, if a terrible and grievous penalty is inflicted upon her?"
"Of course no," I said.
"Even a fate "worse than death'?" he smiled.
"Who speaks of it so?" I asked.
"Do not some free women speak of it so?" he asked.
"And are not those the very women who first bare their breasts to conquerors and beg the privilege of licking their feet?"
"Perhaps, upon occasion," said Aemilianus.
"If it were truly a fate worse then death," I said, "or even so unfortunate a lot, it seems it would be very hard to understand their happiness, their emotional fulfillments, their ecstasies, their willingness to die for their masters."
"Perhaps then," he said, "for all its demands and duties, it is not truly a fate worse then death."
"Perhaps not," I said, "else, after a time, they would not love it so." "Perhaps those who would foolishly call it so do so only in their attempts to dissuade themselves from their desperate fascination with it, and longing for it."
"Perhaps," I said.
"At any rate," he smiled, "let them not make pronouncements on such matters until they have had some experience of that of which they speak, until they have had for a time, so to speak, the collar on their own necks." "Yet," I said, "slavery is a most serious matter."
"It is," he granted.
Gorean slavery is categorical and absolute. The slave is a property, an animal. She is incapable of doing anything to alter, change or affect her status. She is owned by the master, and owes him all. She can be bought and sold. She must serve with perfection.
Aemilianus looked at the Lady Claudia. "Do you understand the nature of our discourse, of that of which we speak?"
"Yes," she said.
"Good," he said.
She looked at him.
"Claudia, Lady of Ar's Station, free woman," he said, sternly.
She, kneeling before him, regarded him.
"Put your head to the deck," he said.
Men gasped, to see a free woman perform this act. More than one, I am sure, wanted to seize her.
"Lift your head," said Aemilianus.
She did so.
"You have been found guilty of treason," he said, "and sentenced to impalement. By the power that was vested in me I did this. By the same power, I now rescind the sentence of impalement."
"Commander!" she cried, tears in her eyes.
"Do you expect to escape punishment?" he asked.
She put down her head, shuddering.
"Do you know the sort of chains you wear?" he asked.
"Slave chains," she said.
"They look well on you," he said.
She did not speak.
Then, suddenly, in a moment, as of panic, seemingly unable to help herself, she tried the chains, those on her wrists, trying to slip them from her wrists, then jerking them, but they held her well.