This account ignited protest, and an angry muttering, amongst some of the men, perhaps mercenaries, and perhaps some regulars, lost from their units, unable to rejoin them. Tears coursed down the cheeks of more than one man.
“Well,” said the newcomer, “you doubtless know as well of the proscription lists and the flight, where possible, of hundreds of traitors and collaborators from Glorious Ar. Many fled toward the coast, to arrive at length, as many soldiers, as well, haggard and starving, destitute, in Brundisium. Indeed, some of you here may have been amongst such unfortunate, needful wretches, then only scattered refugees.”
Some fellows exchanged glances.
“But if so, as you are here, if you are men, welcome, and rejoice, for it is your good fortune, as that of your fellows, armsmen or not, to have sold your swords north. Riches and glory await you!”
This aroused the attention of the men, all of the men, visibly.
“But many lovely free women of Ar,” he said, “profiteers, traitresses, collaborators, conspirators, betrayers of their Home Stones, fleeing, taken in hand, had their hair cropped and were collared.”
There was assent amongst the men, and laughter.
“And many of the most beautiful of these,” he said, “will kneel to you in Tarncamp, and fear only that you will not find them pleasing.”
“Of high caste?” asked a fellow.
“Many,” said the newcomer, “for what women, if not of high caste, would be in a position to secure coin and power by serving the enemy, to reveal secrets, to supply information, to corner, manage, and horde goods, to wheedle concessions and arrange clandestine sources of supply and private markets, to profit from the occupation?”
I supposed there would always be such, in any city.
Women of lower caste could do little more than consort with the enemy. From what I had heard there were few of the lower castes on the proscription lists. Perhaps they were less important, or less visible, or would be less readily denounced, being less hated. Or perhaps they had less to offer the enemy, and thus were of less interest to them. Or perhaps they were stronger than their betters, more willing to suffer and wait, and endure.
“And so,” said the newcomer, “women who once would not have consented to speak to you through the curtains of their palanquins, women who would have scorned you in Ar, who held themselves so superior, who would have regarded you as less than the dust beneath their slippers, now, if sufficiently beautiful, naked and collared, will carry buckets of hot water to your baths.”
“Excellent,” said a fellow.
Many of those women, I supposed, would have been apprehended by fellow fugitives and sold in Brundisium.
One would make a coin where one could, and, I suppose, the making of some coins, more than others, can be exceedingly pleasant.
I supposed few such women were sold as virgins.
“But,” said the newcomer, examining us, recently, rudely disembarked from the vessel, examining us as a Gorean examines slaves, “I do not find your own cargo inferior.”
The girl next to me, Eighteen, trembled.
Some of the slaves brought from the forest shrugged. They were tunicked. Why, I wondered, should they be so superior? I supposed they might well have been brought to the beach, earlier, as we, in no more than collars and chains.
As the burdens were arranged, I soon realized why our hands had not been tied behind our backs. I put my hands up, over my head, and steadied the box. It was not heavy. In the house, I had been taught to balance and carry objects in this fashion, generally bundles or baskets. A corollary of this manner of carrying an object is it immobilizes the hands and accentuates the figure, rather like the fastening of a girl’s hands behind the back of her neck.
Most of the heavier objects would be slung from the poles brought by the tunicked slaves. Many others would be borne on the backs of the armsmen.
There was no longer any sign of the ship.
I supposed it was returning to Brundisium. Perhaps it would first manage a rendezvous with the second ship, but I did not know.
Interestingly the two large boxes, which had been covered with canvas on the open deck, concerning which the mariners had been so careful, were consigned to four men each, who managed them, each box, by lashings and two poles. They were transported rather in the fashion of a palanquin.
“Gently, gently!” warned the newcomer.
One of the boxes wavered, and he rushed to it, steadying it. As the box