She looked up at me.
“It is nothing,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“I wish you well, slave girl,” I said.
“I wish you well, Mistress,” she said.
“Hurry,” I said.
I backed away. I saw her put down her head and bite at the fruit.
“Hurry,” I whispered.
I heard a whip crack, several yards away. I jerked back, wincing, frightened. It was a very frightening sound. It is particularly frightening when one understands something of what the whip can do to one.
The first line of captives was now on its feet.
I saw the free woman with whom I had entertained converse lift her head.
Again the whip cracked.
The second line of captives was now on its feet.
“Your first step will be taken with the left foot,” they were informed by a worker. “You will keep your eyes fixed forward. You will not look to the right or to the left.”
At the whip’s suggestion the third, and then the forth, and then the fifth, and then the sixth, rose to its feet.
I hurried away.
The whip cracked again, and the seventh line rose. The free woman was in that line.
“Your first step is taken with the left foot,” I heard. “You will keep your eyes fixed forward. You will not look to the right or to the left.”
I thought it would be more merciful if they hooded the women.
Again and again the whip cracked, as line after line of the captives, with a rattle of chains and shackles, rose to its feet.
I moved back by the doors of the warehouses.
Now all the lines were on their feet.
Workers with whips coursed the lines, snarling, adjusting posture, lifting chins with whips. Whips cracked, and more than one lash was laid upon a startled beauty who then strove zealously, instantaneously, to be found acceptable. In more than one case the very lash which had struck a captive was pressed to her lips that she must fervently kiss it in gratitude.
“Straighten your bodies!” “Suck in your guts!” “Put your shoulders back!” “More!” “Lift your chins!” “Higher!”
The lines were inspected.
They now stood well.
The captives must be beautiful. They must not dishonor the city in which they had the honor to be chained.
There was the barking of orders.
Again the whip cracked.
The lines then began to leave the docking area, in order, beginning with the line farthest to my right.
I picked out the free woman from the lines. She did not look back. She, like the others, kept her eyes fixed forward-absolutely. Woe betide the captive who might glance as little as an iota to the left or right.
How much more merciful, I thought, if they would just hood the women. It is hard to be blindfolded by, gagged by, or bound by, the “Master’s will,” In being “blindfolded by the Master’s will” one must keep one’s eyes closed. I had, just shortly before, been so “blindfolded.” In being “gagged by the Master’s will,” one may not speak, even to request permission to speak. In being “bound by the Master’s will,” one must keep one’s limbs in the prescribed position, as though they were actually so bound, or so metal-clasped, or chained. There are several familiar versions of this. In one the slave crosses her wrists before her body and must retain the position until freed by “the Master’s will.” In another she kneels, her head down, and clasps her hands behind her back. If she is right handed, she clasps her right wrist with her left hand. If she is left handed, she clasps her left wrist with her right hand. Another common version of this sort of “binding” is to put the slave on her belly and have her cross her wrists and her ankles. It is thus as though she were bound hand and foot. She remains this way, as in all these cases, perhaps for hours, until she is freed “by the Master’s will.” A very unpleasant application of this technique is to put a slave in the sun and spread eagle her “by the Master’s will.” One then smears her face, and body, and hair, with honey and leaves her there, her presence being soon noted by a large variety of unpleasant insects. This is, of course, a punishment. After such a bout with thousands of tiny, swarming, crawling visitors, sometimes almost obscuring her, the slave is much improved. The more merciful master, of course, literally stakes the slave out, binding her wrists and ankles widely apart, to the four stakes, before applying the honey. In either case, the girl will be much improved. Even the threat of this sort of punishment, it might be noted, is likely to be effective. And this slave a good deal of unpleasantness all around, and some honey, as well. To be sure, for the threat to be effective, the girl must understand quite clearly, and will understand quite clearly, that the threat is not an idle one. If she entertains any doubts on that score, the master will see to it that they are soon satisfied.
It was workers, not guards, I noted, who prowled the lines, whip in hand. It seemed those of this city, in these remote, isolated precincts, did not fear the theft of these curvaceous prizes. How secure they think themselves, I thought.
The lines would be marched though the city to the pens. I doubted that they would be far. I supposed the captives in their march must endure scrutiny from men, and abuse from free women. Too, children can be very cruel, running out with switches, pelting them with pebbles, and such. This is not prevented for these captives are, in a sense, women of the enemy, and, in any event, will soon become mere slaves.
I looked about the docking area, now empty.
I had never seen the face of the fellow who had stood behind me in the crowd, and who had grasped me by the arms, from behind, after I had tricked the free woman. In the crowd he had been behind me; I had feared to look upon him directly, for he was a free man; later, near the line, again behind me, he had ordered me to keep my eyes closed; then later he had bundled his cloak about my head; then I had later again beenordered to keep my eyes closed, until he had withdrawn. I reddened, looking back to where he had hoisted me upon him, and then, later, put me down to the stones, the cloak wrapped about my head. Yes, I had been well punished. I had been put to his purposes under the very eyes of the free woman. Worse, he had not chosen to be merciful with me. He had made me display myself before her as the helpless slave I could be made to be. Yes, he had made me kick and squeak before her! To what a sweet spectacle she had been treated! But did she also, I wondered, look on in awe and fear, watching me not only kick and squeak, but moan, and wriggle, and writhe, and clutch at him, a spasmodic thrall, a mastered slave, considering that, in some other time and place, it might be she herself who would find herself so responding, so gasping, so eager, so pleading, so helpless, so mastered, in the arms of a man? I had been well used. And tonight I must confess what I had done in the matter of the free woman to the pit master, how I had tricked her, how I had obtained information which my superiors, for whatever reason, had not seen fit to vouchsafe to me. I shuddered. But I had no rational alternative. The failure to confess might mean far worse punishment, perhaps even my death. I would throw myself on my belly before him, kissing his feet, a terrified, contrite slave, begging for mercy. I looked about. The fellow who had put me to his purposes, in whose arms I had been little more than a spasmodic doll, leaping to his touch, could recognize me. I could not, of course, recognize him. This gave him much the advantage over me. I might look into the eyes of many a man, I thought, and not know if he were the one or not. I might look into the eyes of many a man, I thought, wondering if he were the one in whose arms I had leaped so obediently, in whose arms I had been so had. I then quickly hurried back over the bridge to the terrace, to fetch the Lady Constanzia.