Part 2 (2/2)

”I had thought the better of you,” said Ho-Hak. ”I had thought you were of the warriors.”

I could not speak to him.

”I see now,” said Ho-Hak, ”you are indeed of Port Kar.”

I could not raises my head, so shamed I was. It seemed I could never lift my head again.

”Do you beg to be a slave?” asked Ho-hak. The question cruel, but fair.

I looked at Ho-Hak, tears in my eyes. I saw only contempt on that broad, calm face.

I lowered my head. ”Yes,” I said. ”I beg to be a slave.”

There was a great laugh from those gathered about, and, too, in those peals of merriment I heard the laugh of he who wore the headband of the pearls of the Vosk sorp, and most bitter to me of all, the laugh of contempt of the girl who stood beside me, her thigh at my cheek.

”Slave,” said Ho-Hak.

”Yes,” said I, ”a”Master.” The word came bitterly to me. But a Gorean slave addresses all free men as Master, all free women as Mistress, though, of course, normally but one would own him.

There was further laughter.

”Perhaps now,” said Ho-Hak, ”we shall throw you to the tharlarion.”

I put down my head.

There was more laughter.

To me, at that moment, it seemed I cared not whether they chose to throw me to the tharlarion or not. It seemed to me that I had lost what might be more precious than my life itself. How could I face myself, or anyone? I had chosen ignominious bondage to the freedom of honorable death.

I was sick. I was shamed. It was true that they might now throw me to tharlarion. According to Gorean custom a slave is an animal, and may be disposed of as an animal, in whatever way the master might wish, whenever he might please. But I was sick, and I was shamed, and I could not now, somehow, care. I had chosen ignominious bondage to the freedom of honorable death.

”Is there anyone who wants this slave?” I heard Ho-Hak asking.

”Give him to me, Ho-Hak,” I heard. It was the clear, ringing voice of the girl who stood beside me.

There was a great laughter, and rich in that humiliating thunder was the snort of the fellow who wore the headband, that formed of the pearls of the Vosk sorp.

Strangely I felt small and nothing beside the girl, only chattel. How straight she stood, each inch of her body alive and splendid in her vigor and freedom.

And how worthless and miserable was the beast, the slave, that knelt, naked and bound, at her feet.

”He is yours,” I heard Ho-Hak say.

I burned with shame.

”Bring the past of rence!” cried the girl. ”Unbind his ankles. Take these ropes from his neck.”

A woman left the group to bring some rence paste, and two men removed the marsh vine from my neck and ankles. My wrists were still bound behind my back.

In a moment the woman had returned with a double handful of wet rence paste.

When fried, on flat stones it makes a kind of cake, sprinkled with rence seeds.

”Open you mouth, Slave,” said the girl.

I did so and, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of those watching, she forced the wet past into my mouth.

”Eat it,” she said. ”Swallow it.”

Painfully, almost retching, I did so.

”You have been fed my your Mistress,” she said.

”I have been fed by my Mistress,” I said.

”What is your name, Slave?” asked she.

”Tarl,” said I.

She struck me savagely across the mouth, flinging my head to one side.

”A slave has no name,” she said.

”I have no name,” I said.

She walked about me. ”Your back is broad,” she said. ”You are strong, but stupid.” She laughed. ”I shall call you Bosk,” she said.

The Bosk is a large, horned, shambling ruminant of the Gorean plains. It is herded below the Gorean equator by the Wagon Peoples, but there are Bosk herds on ranches in the north as well, and peasants often keep some of the animals.

”I am Bosk,” I said.

There was laughter.

”My Bosk!” she laughed.

”I should have thought,” said he with the headband, formed of the pearls of the Vosk sorp, ”that you might have preferred a man for a slave, one who is proud and does not fear death.”

The girl thrust her hands into my hair and threw back my head. Then she spat in my face. ”Coward and slave!” she hissed.

I dropped my head. It was true what she had said. I had feared death. I had chosen slavery. I could not be a true man. I had lost myself.

”You are worthy only to be the slave of a woman,” said Ho-Hak.

”Do you know what I am going to do with you?” asked the girl.

”No,” I said.

<script>