Выбрать главу

“We named you ‘Janice’, as I recall,” said the leader to me.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Janice, Master,” I said.

“Look up, Janice,” he said.

I looked up.

“You are prettier then I had remembered,” he said.

“Thank you, Master,” I said.

“She is in a tunic,” observed the leader to the pit master.

The pit master looked up.

“You show unusual consideration for pit slaves,” said the leader.

“Sometimes, perhaps,” said the pit master.

“But with respect to her duties here, in connection with this prisoner,” said the leader, “she is to be bare-breasted, and is to be given, at most, a string and slave strip.”

“It will be as you wish,” said the pit master.

“And, tonight,” said the leader, “see that she is thoroughly washed and combed, and made-up, and perfumed, and silked, and send her to my quarters.”

“It will be as you wish,” said the pit master.

16

The doors to his quarters, double doors, were opened before me, each by a deferential slave girl, her head down. They were briefly silked.

I had approached down a long, carpeted corridor. Flanking me, but a just a little behind, were two guards.

I wore rich silks, which muchly covered me. These were not altogether unlike the free woman’s robes of concealment but the materials were not so inflexible and ornate. Far softer they were. Too, I had been veiled. The veil that I had been granted, however, was not of the sort commonly adorning free woman, heavy and opaque, but was of light silk. Beneath it the lineaments of my features might be subtly discerned. The girl who was to be introduced into his apartments was not a free woman, but a meticulously adorned, exquisitely veiled slave.

I could see him within, reclining on a divan.

“Welcome, my dear,” he called, and, with a gesture, invited me within.

The two slave girls closed the doors behind me, and slipped away. I was not followed into the room by the guards. I would suppose that they turned about, and returned to their duties, perhaps by the outer doors, those at the end of the hall.

Before the divan, but a bit to the right, as I faced it, was a low table, on which there were beverages and fruits, and tiny bowls and plates, filled with an assortment of viands. I felt momentarily giddy with the smell of the roasted meats, the breads and pastry.

We were not wholly alone in the room together for, to my right, back, near the divan, but not so close to it as the table, sitting on cushions, cross-legged, were three musicians.

I approached the figure on the divan, which wore longing robes and knelt before him, my head down.

“Kneel with your knees close,” he said, kindly. This seemed fitting, as I was dressed.

I closed my knees. I kept my head down.

He must have given some signal to the musicians, for they began to play, softly, in the background.

‘You may serve,” he said.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

I then began, in the manners of this world, as I had learned them in the pens, to serve, deferentially, self-effacingly, proffering drink and food, sensitive to, and obedient to, his least inclination, his least word or glance. How different these things were from the provender of the pens, of the pits! There was no gruel here, no dried mush, no pellets. And I had not been fed since morning. I hated the silken veil then, despite its beauty, for it sealed my lips from food. I would have preferred, I assure you, primitivisms more typical of this world, such as the barbaric banquets of soldiers and guards, in which we must serve naked. There, at least, we might kneel and whimper, begging food. There, at least, we might hope, at least if we were found sufficiently pleasing, to be fed by hand or thrown scraps. But here I was ravening, and I dared not speak.

He dropped a tiny bone, sucked free of meat, onto a small, golden plate.

“You serve well, Earth woman,” he said.

I handed him, at his gesture, a glistening napkin and he touched it to his lips.

I felt almost faint with hunger.

But these men, of course, do not spoil their slaves.

At his indication I held forth the tiny golden finger bowl, and he dipped his fingers within it, and then dried them on the napkin.

I replaced the finger bowl and the napkin on the small table. I then knelt before him.

The music was very soft, unobtrusive, in the background. The melodies of this world tend to be barbarically sensuous.

I sensed his eyes upon me, but did not look up.

The room was a large, rich room with a smoothly tiled, glossy floor. Small rugs and cushions were here and there. There were numerous, rich hangings. In places slender pillars rose to graceful arches. At the walls, at places, there were ornate chests. Some screens with open grillwork were to one side. There were some side portals, with beaded hangings. It was through one of these that the slave girls had slipped away. In the left, rear part of the room there was a window. Outside it I could see lights in some of the tower buildings of the city. There was also an entryway in the back part of the room to what seemed to be an open porch. I could see more lights through this aperture, in the distance. Some of those lights, I think, may have been on the walls of the city itself.

I kept my head down.

I was well aware of myself as a slave.

I could see the coverings, and cushions, at the foot of the divan.

The music was subtle, insistent.

I lifted my eyes, pleadingly, to the male, who was to me, though I belonged to the state, in this time and place, as Master.

“You may speak,” he said.

I held the veil more closely about my features, as thought this might the better conceal me. But, of course, as I instantly realized, this was foolish. I had seen it in the mirror. My features, my lips, could be discerned within it. It did seem to provide me with some protection from his gaze, but its actual effect, of course, was primarily symbolic, that there was a veil. If anything my gesture might, for an instant, have rendered my features more visible to him. I quickly lowered my hands, the veil, as it were, adjusted.

“I am hungry, Master,” I said.

“Does the Earth woman beg food?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” I said.

He let me remain kneeling before him, my head down.

I could hear the music.

In it were reflected the nature and values of a complex civilization.

“Stand,” said he, “and go there, and face me.”

He pointed to a place on the glossy tiles, some feet before the divan.

“Remove your veil,” he said.

I obeyed, standing before him, a few feet before him. I removed the veil first from my features, opening it, and brushing it to the sides, and then, with almost the same gesture, I lifted it and put it back, behind me. It was then upon me, behind my neck, and before, resting over my shoulders. This veil, like many of the veils on this world, was quite large. It was some six feet in length and three or four feet in width. It was designed in such a way that it might be, if the wearer wishes, wrapped about the entire head, shoulders, and upper body. A smaller veil may be used, of course, with hooded robes of concealment. It is bound or pinned about the face, within the hood. Many robes of concealment are hooded. The hood may be either an integral part of the garment or an independent accessory. There is an entire lore of veils, having to do with their nature, opacity, style, coverage, and such, as with fans on my old world, in former centuries, much may be done with them by a clever woman. In typical, modest veiling, that called for by most properties, only the eyes and the upper part of the bridge of the nose are exposed. It was in that way that I had been veiled in my serving. When I had parted my veil, and brushed it back, and put it behind me, I could hear, in the music to my right, in a ripple of interest and approval, of delight and excitement, the musician’s reaction. I lifted and brushed back my hair, freeing it. I adjusted it, too, with a toss of my head. Perhaps it was a vain gesture. One of the musicians chuckled.