Too, I believe the men of the camp had little time to ponder their courses of action.
It was natural that many of them should have leapt to my pursuit.
I fled through the thickets. I heard men crashing through the brush behind me. I did not know how many followed. I suspect that of the seventy or eighty men in the camp twenty or more had immediately plunged after me, perhaps even more. Surely, too, attention was drawn to that end of the camp near which I had been first seen. It was there that men would have peered into the darkness, there that they would have been marshaled into more organized defensive groups or more organized search parties.
"Stop!" I heard. "Stand! Stand!"
I ran, stumbling, striking branches and brush away from me. My robes were torn.
The crashing in the brush behind me grew louder.
No more swiftly could I run. It was not merely that I was encumbered by the robes. I knew that I could not, in any case, outrun the men. They were stronger and swifter than I. I was only a girl. Nature, whatever might be her reasons, had not fitted me to outrun males. I was frightened suddenly that it had not been her intention that women escape men. Then I realized how foolish this was, to so personalize nature, to ascribe to the cruel, blind processes of the world deliberate intentions. Rather it had been the selections of nature which had determined this. Women who had escaped men would have been lost to the gene pool. Caught women would have been led back to the caves, to suffer the indignities of impregnation by their captors, being forced to reproduce their kind. Similar considerations may have a bearing on the smaller size and strength of women. Yet matters are far more complicated than these considerations suggest. For, in the intricacies, and interplay of both natural and sexual selection, not merely a swiftness, a size and strength would have been selected for in women but an entire set of genetic dispositions; it seems inconsistent to suppose that evolution would select only for the outside of an animal and not for its inside as well, that only matters such as external configuration would have a bearing on its survival or desirability and not its dispositions to respond in certain ways. Surely the same evolution which has selected for the fangs of the lion and the speed of the gazelle has selected as well for the disposition to hunt and the disposition to flight, that has selected for the strength of the male and the weakness of the female has selected as well for the disposition to conquer and the disposition to surrender. We are, to a large extent, one supposes, the products of environments, but it is well to remember that the maximum, shaping environments in which our nature was stabilized and forged are ancient ones; the sense in which environment determines endowment is the sense in which it determines which endowments are to be perpetuated.
With misery I suddenly realized my genetic heritage was that of a type which could be caught by men.
The hands of a man seized me.
"Hold, Lady," said he.
I gasped, and shook, held in his arms.
"Why have you fled, Lady Sabina?" asked he. "It is dangerous." Then he called out, "I have her."
I tried to escape, but I was held fast.
In a moment several more men were about me. He who had held me then released me. I stood, captured, in their midst. I did not speak. I averted my head.
"Is it the Lady Sabina?" asked a voice.
"Face me," said a voice.
I did not face him, but kept my head averted. I felt hands put on my shoulders.
Firmly I was turned to face the speaker. "Lift your head," he said. "To the moonlight."
I kept my head down, but he, with his hand, lifted my head up, that the moonlight might fall upon my veiled face.
I saw that it was the captain, or camp's leader. Suddenly I realized he should not have pursued me. He should have remained in the camp.
He studied what he could see of my eyes in the uncertain moonlight, shattered, through the branches of the forest. He backed away, and studied the robes I wore. Then he said, "Who are you?"
I did not speak. If I had spoken he would instantly have detected my accent, my faltering Gorean, and would have marked me as a barbarian girl.
"You are not the Lady Sabina," he said. "Who are you?"
I kept silent.
"Do you flee an unwanted companionship?" he asked. "Was your retinue ambushed? Do you flee outlaws?"
Again I did not respond.
"Do you flee slavers?" he asked. "We are honest men," he said. "We are not slavers." He regarded me. "You are safe with us," he said.
Moonlight filtered through the branches.
"Who are you?" he said.
I again did not respond. This time he seemed angry.
"Do you choose to be face-stripped before men?" he asked.
I shook my head, negatively.
His hands were at the first veil, the street veil.
"Well?" he asked.
I did not answer.
I felt the veil lifted away from my face. "Remove your gloves," he said.
I slipped the gloves from my hands. He took them and threw them to my feet.
My hands felt the night air.
"Speak," he said.
When I did not respond to him, he pulled away the house veil. The men crowded more closely about. The flesh of my face was now concealed from the direct vision of the strong males by only three veils, the pride veil, the veil of the citizeness and the sheer fifth, or last, veil. Already, in stripping me of the house veil, outrage had been done to me. It was as though the privacy and intimacy of my house had been violated. It was as though they had invaded my house and taken my dress from me, forcing me to stand before them in my slip.
"Who are you?" asked the man again. How could I tell him who I was? My master had not even given me a name.
"The pride veil will be next, if you do not speak," said the man.
I wondered what these men would do with me if they discovered I was not even a free woman. I forced the thought from my mind. Free men do not take it lightly that a Kajira would dare to don the garments of a free woman. This is regarded as an extremely serious offense, fit to be followed by terrible punishments. It can be worth the life of one to do so. I began to tremble.
The pride veil was ripped from me. It was as though my slip had, been torn away by the invaders in my house.
The lineaments of my face could now be detected beneath the veil of the citizeness. The last veil, in its sheerness, and transparency, is little more than a token.
"Perhaps now, dear Lady," said the captain, "you will choose to speak, choose to reveal your name and city, and your business in this vicinity so late in the night?"
I dared not speak. I turned my head to the side, with a wild sob, as the veil of the citizeness was torn away. I wore now only the last veil. It was as though in my own home an almost final shield of modesty had been taken from me, leaving me only a bit of wide-strung netting, inviting the ripping hand of a master.
The hand of the man reached to the last veil. His hand hesitated. "Perhaps she is free?" asked one of the men.
"Perhaps," said the captain. He lowered his hand.
"She is quite pretty to be free," observed one of the men. Some assent was given to this.
"Let us hope, for your sake, my dear," said the captain, "that you are free."
I lowered my head.
"Consider yourself my prisoner, Lady," said the man. He felt my forearms, detecting that I was right handed. I felt a loop of leather put about my right wrist and drawn tight. It was a double loop, drawn through itself, and tightened.
The other end of the closed loop, about a foot from my hand, was taken in the grasp of a soldier. My captor then turned about and began to return to the camp. He was followed by his men. I was led, wrist-thonged, with them.
I had been captured.
In a few minutes we approached the camp. I was carried across the stream, into the camp area. Many were the torches, much was the confusion we encountered there.