I heard the tenth bar sound.
It was the tenth Ahn.
The tenth sounding of the bar still lingered over the city when a side door in the chamber opened and the court’s clerk, with a folder and papers, entered. He spread those upon the table, that which was, as we were situated, to the right of the currently unoccupied desk of the praetor’s officer. He had the fellow who had entered but shortly before conferred briefly over these papers. There wee, it seemed, two sets of such papers. They were, it seemed, in order. I did not doubt but what one set was papers of the court, stamped with the sign of the court, and certified with the signature of a praetor’s officer, if not the praetor himself. On copies of these papers the fellow who had but recently entered scribbled his signature. He put one copy within his robes. The other set of papers, which had been examined, and in places compared with the first set, was different. It was left open now on the table. In its original form it had been folded and narrow, and tied with a ribbon. The ribbon was blue and yellow.
The court’s clerk then went to the side portal. “Bring for the slave,” he called.
A guard of the court entered, leading a small female figure on a rope. She was in at least the outer robe of a free woman, apparently the same ornate, colorful, expensive robe that had been worn that morning. From the fall of the robe on her body I suspected that she was naked beneath it. The robe by which she was led was tied about her neck. I could see beneath the hem of the robe that her feet were bare, slave bare. The robe did have its attached hood, and her features were modestly veiled. Her head was down. About the robes and hood, and veil, holding them in quite tightly against her neck, was a collar. It was a simple collar and I supposed it was a temporary collar, a holding collar. Its engraving was probably no more than some simple legend, such as “If found, return me to the pens of Treve.” Beneath the veil, as I recalled, she was to be gagged. I did not doubt but what she was, and, in the manner of the men of this world, quite effectively. Her words, her pleas, her cries, her remonstrations, or such, as I recalled, would not only be of no avail, but were not even of interest to those of the house of William, in Harfax. Let them not then be disturbed by them. Behind the small figure, rather in the background, was a second guard of the court. The fellow who had but recently entered, in such agitation, so angrily, who had considered, and signed, papers at the desk of the clerk, had, at the call of the clerk to the guard, turned his back and walked through, and outside, the scarlet circle, that before the high desk. He was now some feet on our side of the circle. The small female figure was led to the center of the circle. This time, however, she did not face the desk, but faced the fellow on the other side of the circle. Her head was down. His back was turned. The guard who had led her forward now untied the rope from her neck and withdrew. He went to stand with the other guard, to the far side of the clerk’s table. Their presence was thus unobtrusive. The hands of the small female figure were behind her. I assumed they were tied there. She was now standing alone, in the center of the circle, her head down. She looked very small there. Sunlight fell upon her through the high narrow windows.
“The slave,” said the court’s clerk.
Angrily, with a swirl of robes, the man turned about and came to the edge of the circle. “I own you!” he cried, his voice thick with rage. It seemed she suddenly trembled, and might look up, but he cried out. “Do not dare to look upon me, you worthless slut, you now-nameless slave!”
The fellow mad an angry gesture to the clerk. The clerk summoned forward one of the guards, he who had led the slave into the chamber. The fellow came forward and produced, from his belt, a small key. It was the key, I assumed, to the holding collar. The clerk then looked to the fellow at the edge of the circle. That fellow indicated that the slave was to be turned about, and she was, rudely, so that now, standing, she faced the portal though which she had been introduced into the room. I saw that her hands were now, indeed, tied behind her back, fastened there with binding fiber. The fellow then came forward. He then removed from his pouch a collar and handed it to the clerk. The clerk looked at it. He thrust it before the slave, that she might see it. But then, perhaps because he thought that she, in her distress, her fear, was in no condition to pursue it, he said, “The legend on the collar reads, ‘I am the slave of Henry, of the house of William, in Harfax.’” He then handed the collar back to the fellow who, from his previous angry announcement of ownership of the slave, I gathered must be this very Henry, he referred to the collar, he of the house of William, in Harfax. He would also be, as I recalled, from the words of the praetor’s officer this morning, the youngest and least of that house.
Henry, from behind, above the holding collar, put the collar about the neck of the slave. He did not do this gently. Such collars, too, as it was a common collar, of the sort most frequently found in the north, fit closely. I, Fina, and the others, wore such collars. So, too, I recalled, did Dorna. I assumed most of this city did. He jerked the collar back, firmly. It must have been tight as it had, pinned beneath it, the cloth of the outer robe of concealment, the hood of that garment, and the veil. He pulled it back, again, firmly, and I heard the click of the collar’s closure. It is clear-decisive-meaningful-sound.
There is no mistaking it. The girl will not forget it. She has been collared. She may hear that sound even in her dreams, and awaken, and touch her throat, and, half asleep, stirring, ascertain its sure presence. Yes, it is there, and on her. And she cannot remove it. She is in a slave collar, in the collar of her master.
Inadvertently, without really thinking of it, my hand strayed to my own collar.
I kissed my finger tips and pressed them to my collar.
I envied girls their private masters.
I belonged to the state of Treve.
The pit master briefly glanced down at me.
Frightened, I returned my hands, palms down, to my thighs. I straightened my body. I looked straight ahead. My knees were slightly spread, enough to show that I was a pleasure slave, but were closely enough placed to accord with the decorum of the praetor’s court. I was pleased to understand that the pit master would choose to ignore my slight indiscretion. No one but a frustrated free woman would denounce, or punish, a girl for loving her collar.
I was relieved.
I would not be punished for breaking position.
We then, he and I, the pit master and one of his pit slaves, returned our attention to the floor.
The slave was now in two collars, the holding collar and, just above it, the identification collar, that by means of which she can be identified, as belonging to a particular individual. As soon as the identification collar was in place, the guard of the court removed the holding collar. There had been no moment, then, when the slave had not been in at least one collar. Henry, as we shall speak of him, now adjusted the identification collar on the slave, moving it about, and pressing it down, until it was in place, the lock at the back of the neck.
He then regarded her, in his collar. He then stepped back, away from her.
“You may turn about,” he said. “Keep your head down.” She obeyed and he, for his part, went back to the edge of the scarlet circle, rather on our side of it. She was then standing in the center of the circle, rather as she had before, save, of course, that she now wore not a temporary collar, a holding collar, but the collar of her master.