"Go to the hut," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
They then turned away from me, Thurnus and Clitus Vitellius. "I must leave before noon," Clitus Vitellius was saying. "There are four sleen in which I am interested."
"Let us discuss the matter," Thurnus was saying.
They left the training pit. On my hands and knees, miserable, in the hot sand, the rope on my neck, I looked about the training pit, at the rack of whips and ropes, the sleen tethers, the cages, the wooden barrier about the training area, and then, on my hands and knees, made my way through the sand and out of the training area toward the hut of Thurnus, the rope dragging behind me.
I had begun to understand what it would be to be the girl of a peasant.
In the street of the village, I stopped. Feet stood before me. I looked up, miserable, in the dust, the rope hanging from my neck. It was two peasant boys.
"What slave is this?" asked one. He was Bran Loort, leader of the peasant boys, a rugged youth verging into his manhood. He had in him, said some, the makings of a caste leader.
"It is the clever, beautiful slave who eluded us last night in our sport," said his fellow.
"So it is," acknowledged Bran Loort.
"It is said," said the one, "she has been given to Thurnus."
"Then," said Bran Loort, "she will be in the village."
"It seems so," said the other.
"Please, Masters," I said, "do not detain me."
"Let us not detain her," said Bran Loort. They stepped aside, as though I might have been a free woman. Dragging the rope on my neck, on my hands and knees, through the dust of the hot, sunny street, I crawled past them.
How far from me then seemed Judy Thorton, the lovely co-ed.
I thought of the college boys whom I had despised or tolerated, with whom I had been so haughty. How they would have laughed to have seen me now, on a world where there were true men.
In the vicinity of Thurnus's hut, at the side of one of the wagons taken in the raid on the camp of the Lady Sabina, being loaded with supplies and gear, was Clitus Vitellius.
I seized at his knees, weeping. "Keep me. Keep me, Master," I begged.
He looked down at me. It was shortly before noon.
I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "I love you, Master," I wept.
"She does not want to be a peasant's girl," laughed one of the men.
"I love you, Master," I said.
Clitus Vitelllius rook the rope from the ground, which hung from my throat. He held the rope.
"She does not want to be left in Tabuk's. Ford," said one of the men.
"Who can blame her?" asked another.
I looked up at Clitus Vitellius, my hands about his knees, tears in my eyes. He held the rope which was on my neck. "I am your conquered slave," I wept. "Please take me with you."
He put his foot on the rope, pressing it to the ground. Then, beneath his foot, he drew the rope to him. My head was dragged from his knees to the dust at his feet.
I lay before him, helpless.
"You are a slave girl in the village of Tabuk 's Ford," he said. Then he threw the rope to the ground and turned away from me.
I scratched in the dust and wept, beside the wheel of the wagon.
9
Rain
I cut at the soil with the hoe, chopping and loosening the dirt about the roots of the sul plant.
The sun was high overhead. It was hot. There was a peasant's kerchief on my head.
I worked in my master's fields. I was alone. I wore a peasant's tunic. It was white and sleeveless, of the wool of the Hurt. It came high on my thighs. Thurnus had shortened it. His companion, Melina, had taken the Ta-Teera from me and burned it. "Scandalous slave! Scandalous garment!" she had cried. She had then thrown me a peasant tunic, which had fallen to my knees. Thurnus, wanting to see more of my legs, to her anger, had shortened it with shears.
I straightened my body. My back hurt. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.
"You will learn toil, small beauty," he had said when I had knelt before him, among the pilings beneath his hut, my hands tied behind my back, my neck roped to one of the pilings.
I remembered the morning bitterly.
"I am going to Ar with the master," had said Marla, turning before me. "Now who is the most beautiful?" she asked.
"You, Marla," I had said.
"Farewell, Slave," she said, and left me.
I had knelt there beneath the hut of Thurnus, in the Ta-Teera, my hands tied behind my back, my neck roped to one of the pilings.
To another of the pilings four beautiful she-sleen were tethered. They were on short tethers. They were sleek, lovely animals. My master had purchased them. They could not reach me.
Clitus Vitellius and his men milled about.
"I shall miss you," said Eta, kissing me. "I wish you well, Slave," she said.
Lehna, Donna and Chanda came to me, and kissed me, and hugged me. "I wish you well, Slave," they said.
"I wish you well," I said.
Slave Beads stood to one side, looking at me.
"Will you not say farewell to your sister slave?" I asked.
She came to my side, and knelt down beside me. "Yes," she said, tears in her eyes. "We are all slaves," she said. She took me in her arms and kissed me. Slave Beads was no longer the Lady Sabina. She, too, now, was only a slave. "I wish you well, Slave," she said.
"I wish you well, Slave," I said to her.
"Coffle line!" snapped a guard.
Swiftly the girls fell into coffle line. I watched them. I wished I were with them.
Each beauty knew her place.
They did not daily forming the line. They did not wish to be whipped.
Marla led the line. What beautiful legs she had. The girls extended their left wrists, for the rings to be locked upon them. They stood straight, their eyes looking ahead, under discipline. Maria's right foot determined the line. Each girl, with the exception of Maria, the line's leader, aligned her right foot with that of the girl before her in the line. Sometimes a coffle line is drawn in the dirt and the right foot of each girl is placed on it vertically, such that the line besects the ball and heel of each foot.
Clitus Vitellius did not so much as look at me.
The guard, who was the blond soldier, Mirus, whom I found most attractive of the men of Clitus Vitellius, after he himself, unlooped the coffle chain from his shoulder.
The girls stood erect, left arms extended, wrist straight with the arm, their left arms aligned, each at a forty degree angle from her body, right arms at their sides, palms on thighs, ankles closely together, bellies sucked in, chins up.
Marla's wrist was locked in the first wrist ring. She smiled. She was coffled. When the lock snapped on her wrist she placed her chained left wrist at her side, her palm on her left thigh, still looking ahead.
Lehna, who was very beautiful, was the next locked in the coffle. She placed her left wrist at her side, looking ahead.
There are a large variety of coffle arrangements, given mixtures and combinations of materials and bonds, and aesthetic, physical and psychological considerations. Coffle arrangements are seldom random. From the physical point of view, the most common coffles are left-wrist coffles, left-ankle coffles and throat coffles. Left-wrist coffles and throat coffles are useful trekking coffles. The left-ankle coffle and the throat coffle free the hands to carry burdens. Clitus Vitellius still had the wagons stolen from the camp of the Lady Sabina and so his girls did not have to carry the burdens of his camp. Such burdens are often carried by girls in ankle coffle or throat coffle, and are balanced on the head, usually steadied by the right hand.
Donna and Chanda were now added to the coffle. Their left hands, now locked in wrist-rings, lay against their left thighs.
There was another snap of a wrist ring and the chain bore yet another jewel, the lovely, half-stripped Slave Beads.
Last on the chain was Eta. The guard looked at her, and their eyes met, and then he put the chain on her.
I did not know why Eta was last on the chain. I knew the look in the eyes of the guard. He wanted her for his own slave. She looked frightened. He stood behind her for a moment, and she pressed back, putting her head back against his shoulder. Then he moved away from her.