Scipio Metellus at the Fair of En'Kara IV

She's a good girl,

 loves her mama

Loves Jesus

 and America too

The Purple Gang had reformed and was again stalking travelers on the roads to the Sardar!

The rumour had sprung up suddenly at the Sardar Fair of En’Kara. The dangerous group of brigands known as the Purple Gang for the strips of purple silk they tied around their left arms when on a raid had terrorized travelers on the roads leading to the Sardar for years, until twenty years ago, Marlenus, Ubar of Ar had enjoyed great sport in hunting down and extirpating the lot of them.

The praetor of the Fair, responsible to the Merchant Guild for the proper running of all aspects of the Fair not under the control of the Initiates was consulting with his under-praeter.

“It is nonsense of course. There have been no reports of extra brigandage on the roads to the Fair, we would have heard. Someone is deliberately spreading the story for reasons of their own. They mean to profit somehow. If the rumor gains too much currency, it could cut into trade and thus into our fees and profits.”

The Under-Praetor was and active and ambitious young man.

“I have made some investigations. The original spreaders of this rumor were people we know are sometimes associated with Scipio Metellus. I suspect that wily old scoundrel has been spreading the story as a way to profit himself.”

The Praetor shook his head. “He and his friends deal muchly at our Fair, there is no way we would profit from this. We must acquit the, what is it you called him?, the old scoundrel this time. It is someone else. He would not spread such rumors just to amuse himself, It is someone else.”

“But then who?” asked the Under-Praetor.

“That is what we must determine.”

*****************

Scipio Metellus was humming a piece of music he had learned long ago from a kajira when he was young. The large slaver felt very pleased with himself. The sun was shining, the day was fine. There was a desirable woman kneeling at his feet; his money chest was bulging with the proceeds from the sale off the finest women from the fall of the city of Aetna. He was trying to decide whether to accept the challenge of his friend Atticus of Ar and try and acquire for himself all the prizes in the coming game of Girl Catch between Tarn Hill City and Tarn Hill Port.

The two mutually dependent cities were trying to set the shipping fees for timber for the coming five years. In the mountains, the men of Tarn Hill City felled and worked fine timbers; on the river, Tarn Hill Port, graded, sold and shipped the timber. Mutually dependent, thus united in mutual contempt, the two towns could not risk war. So ten youths from each city would try to capture and place in their girl pit ten maidens from the other side. The city which first succeeded would be the gain the advantage in the shipping fees. Atticus of Ar had challenged Scipio Metellus of Ko-ro-ba to capture the maidens of the winning and losing cities before they could return to Tarn Hill, where the losing maidens would be enslaved by the victors.

“Of course I know the thing is impossible,” said Atticus. “The day following the contest, the girls will be part of a large caravan for the days trip from the Sardar Fair to the Inn at the Ford, where they will spend the night in the Women’s Keep of the Inn. No one has ever succeeded in stealing one woman, let alone twenty from the Women’s Keep. No one could blame you if you declined the challenge.”

“Plenty of women have been stolen from Inns” rejoined the Ko-ro-ban slaver. “You have done it, I have done it, half the Warriors of Gor have done it. What makes this Inn so special?”

Scipio knew all about the Woman’s Keep at the Inn at the Ford, but he was playing for time before committing to a decision.

“The Women’s Keep at the Inn is an old stone watch tower. It was abandoned a century ago an the Inn was built around the tower. It is four levels and a cellar. The walls are eight feet thick at the bottom and three at the top. The cellar has a separate entrance and does not communicate with the rest of the Tower. There is only one way in and one stairway between levels. There are no secret ways or stairs; people have been searching for at least one hundred years. Are you following so far?”

Scipio nodded as the Slaver of Ar continued.

“The main floor is a common room which is entered from the lobby of the Inn; the paga room is across the lobby in a separate wing. The common room of the Tower at the Inn is only for guards and male companions of Ladies staying at the Inn. A single stairway leads to the second level. This is a common sleeping room for Women who cannot afford better but is still very safe. From the second level a stairway leads to the third level. At the top of the stairs is an iron door. It is barred from the inside by the ladies staying on the third level. The bars are heavy beams of wood that it takes three to four women to lift into place. No one can enter easily, and one or two traitors inside cannot compromise the safety of the others. There is a small eating room and separate sleeping rooms on this level. There is one window, it has an iron shutter that is secured by bolts on the inside and in any case it overlooks rapids.

The fourth floor is more of the same, except more exclusive and expensive. On the night they are there, only the ten Free Maidens from the winning city will be on that floor; along with the ten captives, not yet enslaved, from the losing city. If they had been enslaved they would not be permitted on the fourth level. Indeed, only Free Women may ascend above the first level. There is no way to insinuate any spy or agent into the tower, no way of forcing the doors before rescue arrives.

The tower has a peaked roof, so a Tarn cannot be landed upon it; the fourth level’s window overlooks a courtyard which will be full of Warriors. There is no way to get the twenty women you see in front of you out of the Tower at the Inn at the Ford.”

“An interesting problem,” mused Scipio Metellus of Ko-ro-ba. “I doubt I would be interested anyway.”

“Just as well,” said Atticus of Ar. “The warriors of Tarn Hill would pursue relentlessly anyone who succeeded in carrying off the prizes of the Girl Catch.”

“But not anyone who subsequently purchased the enslaved females after,” pointed out Metellus.

The two men, with the red-haired slave at their feet resumed watching the ten maidens of Tarn Hill City displayed as prizes. At the far end of the field, the ten maidens of Tarn Hill Port were similarly displayed.

Scipio watched as the unveiled beauties took turns advancing to the front of the platform. A girl he had not noticed before was to the fore when he went into a reverie of youth.

She had the same snub nose as a slave he had owned as a young man. The curve of her jaw, and the lines of her figure, as far as he could tell were similar as well.

Her name had been Irene; she pronounced it in the Greek way from the Slave World: I-ree-nee. It had been her name as woman on Earth which she wore as a slave name on Gor. One of her masters had loved the musicality of it, and subsequent masters had not changed it.

Scipio Metellus was a young man travelling about Gor. He was a noticing man, and he learned interesting things wherever he went. That summer he was working on the wharfs of the island Ubarate of Cos, loading and unloading ships. He was a big man and he found the work easy. Because he was good at leading and organizing, he was soon the leader of a group of stevedores who were in demand for the speed and care with which they handled cargo. Scipio insisted on honesty in his group which increased the esteem in which they were held.

At a game of kaissa in paga tavern, Scipio had won Irene from the tavern owner and the long Cosian summer had become an idyll for the pair. Man and woman, master and slave, the big stevedore and the tall curvy girl had known true contentment. She was his love slave; he her love master. He sang her the songs of Gor, she sang him the songs of Earth. They harmonized, his bass and her alto together. They could not have been happier.

But Scipio was young and restless. He felt he had learned and experienced all Cos had to offer and it was time to move on. When he was bargaining with a ship owner for passage to Victoria, a man disembarking had seen Irene and offered Scipio a carved ivory belt buckle, like a cowboy buckle in trade for Irene.

Scipio like to travel light and the buckle was worth many times what Irene was. So he made the trade. As the ship sailed away, Scipio was resplendent in his new belt and buckle and Irene cried on the docks. Her new owner cuffed her and dragged her away.

On that voyage, Scipio made the acquaintance of merchant of Cos, who was impressed by his belt buckle. They fell into conversation, and it was the beginning of Scipio’s successful career as an adventuring merchant of slaves. He had learned in his travels the types that were most in demand in various cities. He knew what affected supply, and what affected prices. His audacity allowed him to carry off many incredible coups. He was famous as a judge of girl-flesh and unparallel, except perhaps by Trakker of Ar, the famous slave theoretician as a trainer. One who could spot and take unpromising looking material and turn her into a most coveted property.

But still sometimes, he hummed or sang the songs of Earth.

He looked at the girl from Tarn Hill City, the one who resembled Irene, and said to Atticus, “When I capture all of them, all the prizes from the contest, will you sell them for me in Ar?”

Atticus nodded. “I know it is impossible for you to acquire them; and I look forward very much to finding out how you will make it happen.”

The two men clasped forearms, and walked off, followed by the red-haired slim young slave.

She’s a good girl

Loves her llama

Loves cheezits

 And asparagus too.

The red-haired slave was having the time of her life. She had come into Scipio’s possession at the fall of the city of Aetna. There she had known only a few narrow streets in the quarter of the craftsmen. Her father was a potter, she had not even known the wider streets and plazas of her own city.

But here at the fair, there were so many sights, and sounds and smells. The gorgeous smells from the food boots, so different from the roast vulo and lentils that was the daily diet of the poor of Aetna. And when her master stopped by the kitchens and eating tent of Andre the Baker, she almost swooned. While her master was deep in talk with Andre himself, she was allowed to eat almost a half of a sausage roll, the well spiced meat encased in the flakiest of pastry she was in extasy.

They stopped to listen to a group who was singing the songs of the Tahari. They had followed a group of devout pilgrims led in chants to the Priest-Kings led by Initiates. Beaker, the red-haired slave, was as bored then as she had been when she was dragged to services as a free girl.

The singers from the Tahari were better. Their songs soared and dipped, the music matching the lyrics. They sang of the terrors of thirst and the joys of finding water, “water sweeter than Kalana wine, more satisfying than Paga, more beautiful than women.”

Her master sung along quietly, so as not to disturb the other listeners. Beaker was amazed at how well his voice sounded.

And there were slave girls everywhere! Beaker had seen few slaves in the streets of her poor quarter of Aetna. There were few in that quarter to begin with, and her mother had shielded her as best she could. Beaker had not been allowed to go past the corner where the local Paga tavern stood. The girls were sometimes displayed outside, barely clad or even naked. They were much more volumptous than Beaker, as her girlfriends had teased her. She was likely safe from enslavement they had told her.

Well all the women of Aetna had fallen slave, and it was she of all of them who walked at the heels of the fabulous Scipio Metellus.

After the singing, Scipio had placed a silver tarsk in the bag of the pretty slave who went among the crowd collecting for the singers. A whole silver tarsk! That was more than her father had made for some of his best and most artistic pots!  And just for singers! Her master was truly a great man. He had made the pretty slave doing the collecting squeal too, when he had pinched her bum. Half-naked girls pinched in public, on the lanes of the Fair. Being a slave at the Fair was certainly different than being a free girl in a poor quarter of Aetna.

A whole silver tarsk! That was probably more than she was worth. And her master gave it away just for the pleasure of listening to some music. She was certainly in a new world.

Next she knelt next to master while he watched the sale of some girls from a low platform. Some were branded and displayed themselves well, Beaker was amazed at how brazen they were! She was sure she could never move like that!

The girls, mostly sold for small sums, Beaker was amazed at how cheap even a beautiful woman could be.

“When you are trained, you will sell for more than those slaves did,” her master said to her.

“I will make sure of that. But don’t get puffed up and proud, you are nothing but a slave slut. It is my training that will give you value.”

A slave slut. That is what her mother had called those few slaves seen in their quarter. Sluts, worthless, immeasurably below a free woman. A slave slut, that is what she was now; and mother too, she supposed, the last she had seen of her mother was her mother being dragged off by soldiers of Vesuvium who had conquered her city.

Scipio Metellus straighten the chain that hung from her collar, between her breasts, and ended in the handle of the leash in her master’s hand.

“Always be conscious of your appearance, always be looking attractive for the men.”

“Yes, Master.” Beaker looked at the chain between her breasts. Each link was curved, so the chain lay flot on her body. She knew from talking to her friend who was a blacksmith’s daughter that such chains were more difficult to make and were more expensive. She realized with a shock that the chain holding her was likely more expensive than she was. She stuck out her chest and swayed her hips, to make herself appear more expensive. She was learning her slavery, and the looks she drew excited her. She made sure that the piece of silk tied around her hips did not totally cover her red crotch. She was a slave; she desired to please; it was her duty to be completely pleasing.

Master seemed to be going places at random. He stopped at a shop that sold spices and purchased a little bag of powder after a quiet conversation with the owner. He talked to a captain of warriors and a seller of silks. He watched a troupe of acrobats and conversed quietly with them. He seemed to know everyone, and everyone was happy to see him. Beaker noticed how popular he was; wherever Scipio Metellus went, even Initiates seemed to follow him. There was one watching whenever he stopped.

The crowning event of Beaker’s day was when Master took her to the theatre. Such entertainments had always been beyond the means of a potter and his family. They sat in a box close to the stage with a merchant and three Free Ladies he was escorting. They all seemed to know Master.

One of the Free Ladies looked right at her and sniffed.

“You are heeled by a new slave today, I see. Another naked slut. How you dare.”

“There are different standards at the Fair,” Scipio replied. Many women are sold naked at the Fair, in leass than this slave is wearing.”

“Sluts, unfit to be around Free Women.”

“Many were Free Women before they were collared. I have made many women exchange her robes of concealment for a collar and a wisp of silk.”

The Free Woman stepped back, “No one may be enslaved at the Fair. It is the Law of the Priest-Kings.”

Then the play began and they watched the first act of the “The Ubara’s Dilemma”.  Beaker was enthralled.

At the first interval, Scipio Metellus engaged the two older Free women in conversation as the merchant escorted the one who had commented on Beaker for some ice. The Free Women seemed to be rejecting some proposal of her Master’s. Maybe he was negotiating to buy the Third Woman once the Fair was over? Master could be very persuasive.

The second act began. Beaker knelt, her chin on the rail of the box as the action unfolded. At one point, Master slowly ran one finger gently down her spine from her neck down to the base of her butt. She stiffened, then almost melted. The younger Free Woman sniffed. Beaker wondered if they would one day be chain sisters. She loved her chain sister, Gold Key, but did not think that she would like this one.

At the second interval, The Free Ladies conversed in low tones with Scipio while the merchant again tried to gain the favor of the younger one. Beaker could not hear her Master’s conversation, but now he seemed to have the upper hand as the two Free Ladies bargained with him. They seemed to reach an agreement just as the merchant and the third woman returned.

Beaker wondered what was agreed and what the price was.