It was late in the afternoon. There were many shadows. It was hard to see the tracks. It would soon be night.
Axel held Tiomines back. “No, fellow,” he said.
“You pause,” I said.
“We will camp here,” said Axel. “It is growing dark. The forest is dangerous.”
“Panthers might lurk,” I said.
“And knives, and javelins,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
“It would be most unwise to come upon our friends inadvertently, suddenly,” he said.
“You seem to think they are quite close,” I said.
“Yes,” he said, “can you not smell it?”
“What?” I said.
“A campfire,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mila and I, with dampened cloths were wiping the blood from the head, face, neck, and left shoulder of Darla.
She opened her eyes, suddenly, wildly, and jerked at her cuffed hands, held behind her, the two, narrow, snug, circular restraints attached to her waist chain. Mila and I, alarmed, leaped back. Darla struggled to her feet, crying out with rage, as a storm might rise. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, jerking at the restraints.
“Behold!” called Tuza, from across the site. “The mighty Darla wakes!”
“Remove these chains!” cried Darla.
“Or is it,” said Tuza, approaching, “merely an escaped slave, wandered in from the forest?”
“Release me!” demanded Darla. She struggled wildly in the bracelets, linked to the snug waist chain. Did she not know her efforts were useless? Had she not, often enough, put captured free women, or free women hoping to join her band, in just such impediments, before delivering them naked to buyers? “Where are my garments!” she cried. “Give them to me! I demand to be released! I demand my clothing! Remove these constraints! Give me my weapons! Where are my ornaments?”
“Some are here,” said Tuza, lifting her left arm, with its armlets and several bracelets, while, with her right hand, she lifted and fingered, exhibiting them, the strings of claws which she had looped about her throat.
Darla took an angry stride toward Tuza but, beside herself with rage, had either failed to notice, or had forgotten, the shackles which bound her ankles, and she fell into the dirt, before Tuza.
“Get up,” said Tuza.
Darla struggled to her feet, and stood facing Tuza, shaking with fury.
“I wonder if men would like her,” said Tuza, regarding her former leader.
“She-tarsk!” cried Darla.
“She is still filthy,” said Tuza. “Mila, Vulo, clean her. I find her appearance offensive.”
“Slaves!” cried. Darla. “How dare you touch me?”
Mila and I stepped back.
“Clean her,” said Tuza. “As you might a shackled slave, waiting to be put upon the block.”
Carefully, frightened, with our cloths, dampened in the Alexandra, we wiped away the blood and dirt which adhered to the body of the former leader. We were much afraid to do this, for she was free, and did not wish it. We trusted she would understand that we did not do this of our will, but as slaves. It is common for a slave, in her training, to be taught the bathing of masters, the sponging, the oils, the strigil, the rinsings, the towelings, and such. To be sure, we are also instructed in various ways we may please the master while bathing him, and in the manner of the slave. On the other hand, as I understand it, the matter is commonly quite different with free women. Certainly Darla did not wish to sustain our ministrations. Contact with a slave may be regarded as sullying by a free woman. She is, after all, free. In the case of the bath of a free woman, as I understand it, the slave commonly does little more than prepare the bath, test the temperature, for this may vary from mistress to mistress, place the oils, and such, scent the water, ready the towelings, lay out the after-bath gowns, and such. To be sure, she may assist her in and out of the bath, as well. Whereas I suppose a woman might have a personal serving slave of whom she is fond, being a woman’s serving slave is commonly regarded as the most dreaded of bondages. Most free women despise, and hate, female slaves, and own, and treat them, accordingly. Often they will not allow them to so much as cast a glance on a male. A good female serving slave, of course, particularly one of taste and discretion, may be invaluable to a free woman. There are some free women of the upper castes, wealthy women, who from childhood have never dressed themselves, who do not even know the intricate clasps and closures of the robes of