“I have been found of interest by others,” I said.
“Oh?” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “Master.”
“Why are you standing,” he suddenly said, angrily. “Kneel, put your head to the dirt!”
Instantly, I knelt, my head to the dirt. How pleased I was!
“You should be lashed!” he said.
“You do not own me,” I said. “You do not own me!”
He rose up, angrily, and kicked dirt upon me, and turned away. I remained as I was. I recalled that it had been my knees and not those of Tula or Mila which had been forced apart by the boot-like sandal of Genserich, leader of the captors, or his seeming lieutenant, Aeson. I knew I was slave enough to be of interest to a man. I have made him squirm, I thought. I have made him cry out. I have made him sweat. Let him be restless. Let him turn and roll angrily in his sleep. Let him see if he can cast from his thoughts the image of a certain dark-haired, collared barbarian. It was for her, was it not, that he essayed the dangers of the forest. Surely there was no simple diversion in this. He may not even have been authorized to leave Shipcamp. Were there not Pani guards set at the perimeters to prevent such departures? He may have followed me even from Brundisium. He may have sought me in Tarncamp, and then, later, encountered me in Shipcamp. How arrogant the masters are, I thought. So we are nothing to them, are we! Are we truly to suppose that one slave is no different to them from another? Do they think slaves are unable to recognize interest, heat, passion, desire, possessiveness, need, drive, the lust to own, to collar, and master? Emotions, I was sure, despite any denials which might be proffered, had seethed within him. Had I not glimpsed, be it only for a moment, the eruption of his interest, scarcely controlled, hinting at the volcano of his wanting? Now, scornful Master, I thought, I have power. I am near, and you want me, but you cannot have me! At night you will even be on a chain! Now you are mine! I can tease and taunt you as I want, and I need fear nothing from you. Not only was I not his, but he and Axel of Argentum, his fellow, were prisoners here, it seemed, as much as I. He had scorned me. Now it was my opportunity to scorn, and torture, him.
I then became aware, lifting my head a little, that Donna, two guards, and the four prisoners, the Panther Women, Darla, Tuza, Emerald, and Hiza, had returned to the camp. The prisoners were struggling, bent over. Each, on her back, bore a large bundle of firewood. It pleased me to see the proud Panther Women laboring, as might common slaves.
I heard a panther roar, from somewhere in the forest.
“Get up,” said Tula to me.
“I have not been given permission to rise,” I said.
“It is all right,” said Tula. “We are in the keeping of Donna. She is first girl. We may bathe.”
I rose to my feet and looked about, and saw him whom I hated across the camp. I smiled, and tossed my head, and turned away. I am sure he saw me, but he had given no indication of that. I wondered if he were truly indifferent to me. Could that be? Might I be wrong? I did not think so. I thought he wanted me, and could not have me. I was pleased.
I then accompanied Tula to the shore of the Alexandra, where Mila was waiting for us.
Chapter Forty-Two
It was the morning of the day following the capture of the Panther Women, the appearance of the sleen in their camp, my experience with the beast, and its recovery by the sleen master. Too, of course, I had discovered that the sleen master had not been alone, but, to my astonishment and consternation, to my outrage, humiliation, fear, and fury, I now helplessly caught, to my hatred and relief, to my fear, misery, and joy, was accompanied by another, one whom I well knew, even if it were not one by whom I was well known.
How angry I was that he had found me, and how I had longed to see him again, and how I had feared I might never see him again!