A collar, with two guide chains, one on each side, was fastened on his neck.
"Kill the spy," said a man.
"No," said Aurelion. "We will take him to the magistrates."
The double gate was unlocked by Strabo, who had recovered his keys. Four men made ready to conduct Clitus Vitellius from the tavern.
"It is the heavy galleys for spies," said one man.
"Better to kill him now," said a man.
"No," said Aurelion, "conduct him to the magistrates. They will have much sport with him before he is chained to a bench."
The heavy galleys were round ships, large ships, which usually carried bulk goods, such as lumber and stone. It was usually impractical to employ free oarsmen on such ships.
Clitus Vitellius looked once more upon me. I saw that he was securely chained.
I approached him. "Ho, Clitus Vitellius," I said. "It seems you now wear chains like a slave."
He did not speak tome.
"You will soon be slave in the heavy galleys," I said. I posed before him, as a slave girl, opening my silk. Men laughed. "Look well, Master," I said, "for there are few girls in the rowing holds." I turned before him, and again faced him. "Do not forget Yata, Master," I said. "Remember it was she who put you in chains, who puts you upon the bench of the galleys!"
He regarded me, not speaking.
I went to him and, suddenly, with all my might, slapped him. He scarcely moved.
"The vengeance of a girl," I said, "is not a light thing."
"Neither," said he, looking at me, "is the vengeance of a warrior."
I shrank back, frightened.
"Take him away," said Aurelion.
Clitus Vitellius was conducted from the tavern.
"You did well, Slave Girl," said Aurelion.
"Thank you, Master," I said. Then, suddenly, I knelt before him. I had rendered great service to the state of Cos. "Free me, Master," I begged.
"Bring a whip," said Aurelion to Strabo.
"No, please, Master!" I cried.
"Put her at the slave ring," said Aurelion, "and give her ten lashes, and then throw her a pastry. She has done well."
"I shall, Aurelion," said Strabo.
In moments I knelt at the slave ring, my small wrists crossed and bound to it, the silk pulled away from me, down about my calves. I was struck ten times, and then released. A pastry was thrown to the floor before me. "You did well, Slave Girl," said Strabo. "Thank you, Master," I whispered. I reached for the pastry. The whip stayed my hand. "Forgive me, Master," I said. I took the pastry in my mouth.
"Chain her in the kennels," said Aurelion.
On my hands and knees, as a punished slave girl, holding the pastry in my mouth, I crawled from the floor to the kennels, followed by Strabo. There, at the concrete wall, on my blankets, I lay down. The chain and collar was fastened on my neck. Strabo left. I took the pastry in my hands, and began to eat it. What a fool I had been to beg my freedom. I had only to look in a mirror to see that I would never be free on Gor. I lay in the darkness of the long kennel, on my blankets, in my place, chained by the neck. I was a Gorean slave girl. Then I cried out with anguish, weeping, and hurled the pastry from me. I pounded at the concrete beneath the blankets. I wept. I had betrayed Clitus Vitellius, my master!
Strabo, accompanied by Narla, approached me. He poked me with a whip. "Be quiet," he said. She carried a lamp. She was eating the pastry which I had discarded. Strabo unlocked the collar on my neck. "There is a sailor here," said he, "who is drunk, from the Cords of Tharna, who is calling for you."
"Yes, Master," I said.
I recalled the fellow who had had the red-haired girl who had bested me in combat on the wharf. I had said to him that I could please him more than she. He had now, apparently, come to the Chatka and Curla, calling for me.
"Please do not make me serve," I begged.
"Narla," said he, "will help you ready yourself. Be quick."
"Do you want some pastry?" asked Narla holding a piece out to me.
"No," I said. I looked up at Strabo. "I betrayed Clitus Vitellius of Ar," I wept.
"You did well," he said. "Now hurry."
"Please, Master!" I begged.
He struck down with the lash and I cried out in pain. "I hurry!" I wept. "I hurry!"
I fled from the kennel, followed by Narla, to the room of preparation.
I could hear the fellow on the floor calling for me.
21
A Convoy Departs From The Harbor Of Telnus; I Appear On The Cargo Manifest Of One Of Its Ships
I scarcely noticed as my wrists were braceleted behind my back. I wore a brief, yellow slave tunic, of closely woven rep-cloth. I stood near the gate of the Chatka and Curla.
"Come, Yata," said Strabo, taking his direction toward the wharves.
I, barefoot, braceleted, head down, followed him.
I knew now that I truly loved Clitus Vitellius of Ar. Yet to my misery I had betrayed him. How I would if I could have undone that deed. How I would if I could have tried to pit my small strength against the heavy oar which he would now draw. I would if I could have changed places with him. Better that I, if I could, be chained to a bench, an oarsman slave, than he. I, a worthless slave girl, in her vanity and pettiness, had laid low not a warrior, but my own beloved. What mattered it that he cared naught for me, that I was but rude collar meat in his mighty hands? It mattered nothing. I loved him more deeply than I realized one could love. He had stirred such emotion, such rage, such hatred, in me that I would not have believed it possible. I had lived for my vengeance, dreaming of it, and, when I had attained it, I found it only misery and ashes, and unspeakable anguish, for it had cost me my very self, he whom I loved, Clitus Vitellius of the city of Ar.
The men in the tavern, and the girls, too, had been pleased that I had designated Clitus Vitellius. How excited and pleased all had been. "You did well," they assured me. I had been thrown a pastry. But, alone with myself, I wept with misery.
I had not known I could so love. I would have given all to undo that deed.
He had not treated me well, but it did not matter. All that mattered was that I loved him.
Yet I had betrayed him.
How small a thing it was that he had sported with me and then, in his simple cruelty, given me to a peasant. Did I not know I was a slave girl? What did I expect? To be treated as a free woman? How vast a thing, how vicious and disproportionate it was that I, a mere slave girl, for so small a fault, if fault it was, had sentenced him to the tortures of the galleys.
I had done well! I cried out in anguish. I loved him. I loved him!
I should have served him in the tavern, and then kissed him farewell, surrendering him to his glory and freedom, I remaining behind, forgotten, a girl whom once he had owned and discarded. I could then have known him free.
Would it not have been enough?
But I had betrayed him, he whom I loved.
Strabo turned and looked at me.
"Forgive me, Master," I said. I had moaned with anguish.
We continued on our way toward the wharves.
The night I had betrayed Clitus Vitellius I had been beaten. I had failed miserably to please the drunken sailor.
Twice later, too, on ensuing nights, I had been beaten. "You seem to be worthless as a paga girl," had said Aurelion of Cos, my master.
"Forgive me, Master," I had said.
"It is perhaps time," said he, "to return you to Ar."
I could now smell fish and salt, for we were quite near the wharves. Between buildings I could see galleys at their moorings. We descended toward the wharves.
I no longer wore the black, enameled, belled collar, and snide ring, of the Chatka and Curla.
I heard men shouting, and saw them running. There seemed excitement below.
I now wore a ship collar, of locked steel, gray, with its destination tag. The tag, I had been told, read: "Send me to the Lady Elicia of Ar, of Six Towers."