Yes, I thought, shuddering, men were the masters.
The officer and his companions, that small retinue, then left the terrace.
Shortly after the departure of the officer and his retinue I think the terrace, previously muchly cleared, must have been reopened, for I had scarcely closed my eyes, sitting at the wall, when I felt hands fumbling at the lock gag, opening it. “Are you all right?” begged the Lady Constanzia. Her eyes were wide with fear. “Yes,” I said. Her companion, the scarlet-clad fellow, had removed his cloak. It muchly wound about his arm, constituting in its way, it seemed, an improvised shield. Strangers in this city are not permitted to carry weapons. He wiped the lock gag on his cloak and returned it to his pouch. I was pleased to see it disappear therein. I then began, for no reason I understood, to tremble. The Lady Constanzia kissed me. “They would not let us come to the terrace,” she said. “You are sure you are all right?” “Yes,” I said. The Lady Constanzia freed the leash from the ring. It then hung loose within the ring. The scarlet-clad fellow turned her about and took her in his arms. She lifted her lips to his. How soft she was in his arms! How she melted to him! She was then, surely, as a slave girl in the arms of her master. I was startled. How could this be? Was she not a free woman? Did she not know better? Had she not been taught? Had she no pride? But I saw her now, before me, as a slave girl in the arms of her master. “I love you, my master!” she whispered. He then crushed her to him. He sobbed. “Master?” she asked. He then, forcibly, put her from him. “It is nothing,” he said. She then knelt, as delicately, and naturally, as any slave. He seemed overcome by emotion. “Master?” she asked, again.
“Curse honor!” he wept, suddenly.
I am sure that neither of us understood his outburst.
“When will I see you again, Master?” she asked.
He looked down upon her, tears in his eyes. His fists were clenched.
“Master?” she asked.
“I do not own you!” he cried. “You belong to another!”
She looked up at him, puzzled.
“You are merchandise!” he wept. “You are mere property!”
“Yes, Master?” she said, puzzled.
“I must remember that!” he cried.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Your sort, and better, may be purchased in any market,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“Why then,” he demanded, “do I feel as I do?”
“How is it that Master feels?” she begged.
“I fear I have grown fond of a slave,” he said.
“Cannot one grow fond of a slave, even of so small an unimportant a thing?” she asked.
“Curse the codes!” he cried.
“When shall we see one another again, Master?” she asked.
“Never!” he wept.
She looked at him, aghast. She almost rose to her feet, but she stayed kneeling. I gathered that he had seen to it, in the time they had had together, that she had received training. He had her under discipline, which is suitable, as he thought her a slave.
“Never,” he whispered, looking down at the stones.
“If I have displeased Master,” she said, in agony, “I will endeavor to improve my behavior!”
“I have dallied overlong in the city,” he said. “The extension granted to me, the last for which I might apply, expires tomorrow at sundown. I must, by then, conclude my business, and take transport for the foothills.”
“No!” she wept.
He then put his cloak about him, and turned about, and strode rapidly away.
“Master!” she called after him, in agony. “Master!”
After he had disappeared, taking his way through one of the buildings to the left, the Lady Constanzia collapsed to the stones of the terrace, weeping.
Her fat, though she was a free woman, was not that different, in conjectured, from that of many slaves. They could not go their own ways. They were bought and sold, and handed about, and taken here and there. I recalled a slave who had wanted desperately to serve and please a fellow, he whose whip she had first kissed. But her feelings, only those of a slave, had been unimportant. She had been sold from that house. She had been carried far away. She now served here. The case, I thought, was not really so different with the Lady Constanzia, as she was a prisoner. She could not go where she wished. Her disposition, too, as in the case of a slave, was in the hands of others. In the case of a slave, of course, the disposition is in the hands of the master. It is he with whom one must deal, if one wishes to acquire the woman. She is his to keep or sell, as he pleases. The average man of this world would no more think of stealing a slave within his own city, or a host city, one which has extended the courtesy of its walls, then he would of any other act of illicit and dishonorable brigandage. There is sometimes a double frustration involved in these things, that of the slave whose master will not sell her to one to whom she wishes to belong, and that of the fellow who wishes to own her, to whom she will not be sold, for one reason or another, perhaps for spite, perhaps because the owner wishes to keep her for himself, perhaps because the would-be purchaser cannot meet the owner’s price. The key to understanding these matters, of course, is to understand, simply, and clearly, that the female is an article of property, that she is owned. In the case of the Lady Constanzia, as she was a free woman, her disposition was, I supposed, in the hands of certain officials of Treve. I almost wished that the Lady Constanzia was a slave, and had a private master, that the scarlet-clad figure might have approached her master with the intent of negotiation her purchase. But perhaps his funds, even in such a case, would not have sufficed for her purchase? Perhaps his funds, those still at his disposal, were required for the discharge of his business here? And he would not steal her, it seemed. No, that would not be honorable. She did not belong to him. He could no more bring himself to steal her than he could have brought himself to steal a silver vessel, a golden plate, from a house in which he had been accepted as a guest. It was little wonder, then, that he, torn by desire and love, in bitter rage, cursed the strictures of honor. By the men of this world we are highly prized. They hunt us down and capture us, and make us serve them, and keep us for themselves. We are treasures to them. They will kill for us. But few of them, it seems, no matter how exquisite we are, no matter how beautiful we are, will compromise their honor for us. And I do not object to this for, without honor, how could they be men, and, if they were not men, true men, how could they be fit and perfect masters for us?
In time, red-eyed, the Lady Constanzia rose to her feet, unsteadily. She took the leash, pulling it from the ring.
“I am sorry,” I said to her.
“We had a wonderful day,” she said. “We did everything we saw everything.”
“I am sorry,” I said.
“I’m sorry we put the lock gag on you,” she said, “but we thought it best. We would not have wanted you to furnish information to others, about who I was with, where we might have gone, and such. I did not want to risk being summoned in early. You understand. We did not want to risk you spoiling our holiday.”
I nodded.
I recalled the frustration of the intruder who had been unable to question me because of the lock gag. I recalled the look in his eyes, and the readying of the sword, but he had not struck me. He had flung me, rather, angrily to the side. I had lain there, terrified. But I had survived. None of the slaves had been put to the sword. Our collars, it seemed, had saved us. This is not that unusual, incidentally. In the sacking of a city, salves, like other domestic animals, other valuables, and such, are often saved, while free folk may be put to the sword. Indeed, sometimes free women, I have heard, take the collars from their own girls, putting them about their own necks, that they may increase their chances of survival. They often then, self-collared, knot a rag about their hips, to conceal that they have no brand, and hurry into the streets, to surrender, as a slave, to one of the conquerors. Sometimes their girls pursue them, to point them out to the conquerors. Sometimes they subdue their former mistresses, remove the cloth at their hips, and bind them, and lead them on ropes to the conquerors.