think of herself as a slave. Perhaps she thought of herself as wholly other than the others, as though she might be free, and they mere slaves. Did she think to put herself on the free side of the immeasurable chasm that separated persons and citizens from properties and beasts? Such things, doubtless, would make her resented amongst her chain sisters, but, too, they would not seem to me indications of madness, and certainly not, if there were any ground for possible airs or pretensions.
The gowned slave put her hand behind my head, holding it in place, and thrust the small bowl to my lips.
“Feed, barbarian she-tarsk,” she said.
I choked a little, and I felt some of the gruel run beside my mouth.
“There,” she said, “it is done,” and drew the bowl away.
I recalled the quick, superficial descent of the bowl into the feeding trough. The bowl was small, of plain, unglazed, baked clay, and was chipped, and there had been very little in it, presumably by the gowned slave’s intent, and part of what there was had been removed with the bowl.
She stood up, and, with her finger, several times, wiped some gruel from the bowl, which adhered to her finger, which she would then suck away. Then she turned away to return the bowl somewhere outside.
I was still very hungry.
“We saw, Laura!” said one of the slaves.
“You were not well fed,” said another.
“Call the guard, and complain,” said another.
“No,” I said, “he is a master.” I did not wish to be lashed.
“We will back you,” said another girl. “Call out!”
“No,” I said.
“Then we will do so,” said another.
“Pretty Ubara then will be stripped and lashed, tied in the doorway,” said another.
“It will not be the first time,” laughed another.
“No,” I said, “do not do so! Please do not do so!”
“What is going on?” said the guard, entering, holding the gowned slave roughly by one arm. She seemed small and distraught beside him, so held.
“Ubara did not feed the barbarian!” said a girl.
“No, she ate her food!” said another.
“Speak!” said the guard, shaking the miserable gowned slave by the arm, almost causing her to lose her footing.
“I fed her well, as commanded!” said the gowned slave, frightened. “A full bowl, as commanded! I did not eat her food.”
So, I thought, beauty, for all your having possibly been of high caste or whatever, and for all your pretensions and superiorities, you are now only a frightened slave, and a liar.
The guard dragged the gowned slave before me. “Speak,” he said to me. It was clear he held the beautiful, olive-skinned slave in contempt. To him, I saw, she was no more than another slave, and perhaps one that was less than pleasing. I did not think he would find her stripping and lashing amiss. Perhaps it was he who had put her in the gown, to signal her out for envy and derision. It is the masters, of course, who decide whether or not a slave is to be clothed, and, if clothed, how, and to what extent. Such small things, as many others, help the slave to keep well in mind that she is a slave.
“I was fed, Master,” I said. “I am content.”
Several of the slaves in the kennel cried out in protest. The gowned slave, her arm released, regarded me with surprise, and then, as the guard withdrew, with contempt.
“You did not inform on me,” she said.
“No,” I said.
“You were afraid to do so,” she said.
“No,” I said.
“Why did you not have her beaten?” asked a girl.
“She was afraid,” snarled the gowned slave.
“No!” I said.
“Then why?” asked another slave.
“The whip hurts,” I said.
The gowned slave, her face contorted with fury, bent toward me. “You are a fool,” she whispered. “I owe you nothing!”
“I expect nothing, and want nothing, from such as you,” I said.
“From such as I?” she said.
“You may or may not have been born to high caste,” I said, “but I see little of high caste about you. You may be beautiful, but you are small, petty, cruel, pretentious, self-centered, and a liar, and most obviously, now a slave.”
“Silence, slave!” she hissed.
“A slave may speak so to a slave,” I said.
“I am not a slave!” she cried.
“Slave!” I said.
The gowned slave then threw herself upon me, screaming, striking, biting, and scratching, and the other slaves about leapt to their feet, and rushed toward us, to protect me, and, as they seized her, the gowned slave had seized my hair, and shook my head, violently, and