"THE WARLADY OF DULARN"
2567 A.D.!
By Jerome Bigge
Chapter Nine
"The `quality' of the `sluts' has improved around here!" my friend Lars now smiled as we were served our dinner in the slave shed. Our treatment was not much different than that of any farm animal, except that we were kept chained up while they were not. I had been informed by the other slaves that slaves were better "treated" here on the Queen's estates than elsewhere in Trelan- dar. And that Trelandar had "laws" that other countries didn't! We were worked hard, but we were not "abused". Keri saw to that. She was of the Scribes, not of the Warrioresses as I had thought. We all thought highly of Keri Colter as unlike all the rest, she treated us like human beings, not as slaves are usually "treated" in this era. I think we "worked harder" for Keri than for Cassie or anyone else. And unlike the others, she wasn't fearful of us. Keri often moving among us without concern as to what we might be able to do to her, something that the other overseers never did.
"Carol!" I breathed, softly, reaching out to her. Her hazel eyes now filled with tears as she clung to me. I flinched as she touched the whip marks where the overseer had struck me earlier. I recalled what Cassie had said about a slave girl sometimes be- ing "given" to us for the night if we "did good work". I hoped it would not be my Carol. I don't think I could have "stood" it.
"You've been whipped!" Carol sobbed, clinging to me, naked but for that strip of cloth about her hips that concealed little! Slaves are sometimes kept naked except when free women are about. It is done more to break your spirit than anything else, I think. A kind of "sexual harassment" that the girl can do nothing about! Carol told me that it "bothered" her even though she was now used to be "looked at" by men while doing her "dancing" at the HUTCH.
"Cassie swings a `mean whip'," I smiled back at my brownette delight. The lash marks would heal. Carol nodded, pressed her warm sweet lips to mine. To hold Carol in your arms is to "want" her. That is the "sort" of a woman she is. Another slave girl, whom I recognized as Sandi, now serving dinner to the other men. Apparently Lady Tirana had decided to "keep" her here despite the "price" on her head for having killed her master there in Trella. Sandi had told Keri the "tale", what had been "done" to her then. There are ways of causing a woman much pain without marking her.
"I fear what they might `do' to you," Carol said softly.
"How are you being treated?" I asked, concerned for her.
"Like a woman who men find `attractive'," Carol smiled, leaving the "rest of it" left "unsaid" just then. I had little "doubts" however that she had been "touched" and "teased" a lot.
"You don't have any contraceptive protection," I told her.
"I've been `implanted'," Carol now then smiled back at me.
"It is time to leave, mistress," Sandi said to my wife. Slave girls call their "first girl" by that "title". Carol kissed me again, briefly for a second "hugging me" before getting to her feet. I looked upon her beauty and felt "desire" for her.
"Fine looking woman," Lars Debolt smiled as Carol and Sandi left. Female slaves are often quite closely supervised. I nod- ded, ashamed of myself now for the thoughts I had entertained about my wife. "I understand she beat Tirana in a `match' too." I nodded, gave him a smile, started spooning my oatmeal into my mouth with my fingers. Felt the tug of my collar as the chain drew tight. I did not think slaves ever now escaped Lady Tirana. On the other hand I did not think escape was all that impossible. With "leadership", stolen weapons, "much" might be done, I mused. A ship of some sort would be "necessary". Some one to sail her. I glanced at Lars, and recalled that he had once been a "bosun".
"That new auburn," he smiled. "She's a true `delight'." I had to stop and "think" for a second before I realized he was talking about Sandi. I supposed that she was. She wasn't in my opinion the "woman" that Carol was, but she was "attractive" in her own right, and doubtlessly she could "pleasure" a man plenty! Both had been of course "collared sluts", women who now were nothing but "vessels of pleasure" as one of the guards had said.
"Their collars are lighter than ours," I smiled, easing mine. It was a length of strap iron, hammered about my neck with a ring for the chain. Simple but crude. Doubtlessly effective.
"They are women," he smiled. "They have `value', we don't." He was a handsome man, dark blond hair, sort of a "Viking" type. His own birthplace was one of the islands to the north of Dularn.
"`M.P.S.'" I smiled back, remember a book I had once read.
"What was that?" he asked, seeing me smile in return.
"Members of the Privileged Sex," I explained to him.
"I do not `envy' women," Lars smiled, regarding me.
"There was a time when they had it `better'," I said.
"We know `little' of that era but legend," he smiled back.
"There is `Lorraine'," I pointed out, curious to see what he thought of the famous Warlady of California. Most of the slaves here seemed to think rather "highly" of her, which surprised me.
"A very `intelligent' woman, `good' with a sword too," Lars smiled. "Probably even better than your wife," he laughed a bit. "Looks a lot like Lady Tirana, although Tirana's better looking."
"You are `of the Warriors'," Lady Tirana said to me as I stood there before her with the others. Her eyes glittering into mine through the netting of her veil, her features shaded from the sun by a broad brimmed hat. The high born noble "Ladies" of California do not consider being "suntanned" as "proper" for one of their ilk. One speaks of their "fair white skins"; of a love- ly "pale" Lady. It was a pleasant morning, the sun warm, the birds singing away. I was "of the Warriors". Lars had said so. The fact that I lacked the "caste mark" meant nothing. Keri, the major domo was standing there just to one side of Tirana. She also wore a broad brimmed hat to protect her eyes from the sun, a green silken open "V" necked blouse, a leather skirt to the knee. The sort of attire worn by the Californian woman of "quality", if not of the "nobility" as was her grandmother, Lady Tirana Grey- son. I saw Cassie standing there, tanned as any slave girl in her halter and shorts, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. A guardswoman some yards away leaning back against a shady tree. Such women are not "Warrioresses" as such, but are much like one. She had a compound bow, one of Lorraine's new design, beside her. Such a weapon can shoot an arrow completely right through a man.
"I am," I said to her, Carol standing there silently behind her. Her shift well betrayed the "delights" of her sexy figure. The provocative and sensual Kathi standing next to her, the pair making me glad that I was a man so I might enjoy "seeing" such. We male slaves used to talk a lot about Kathi. What we'd like to "do" to her. It was perhaps just as well that she was never giv- en to us. She was a "tease", a true "slut" in every sense of the word. Only the fact that she was Lady Tirana's allowed her to get "away" with some of the stuff that she "pulled" with people!
"Are you `good' with a sword?" Lady Tirana then asked me.
"My wife is `better'," I answered her back in level tones.
"She is no longer `your wife'," Tirana then reminded me. Enslavement "legally dissolved" our marital relationship, I knew.
"That is your `opinion'," I replied to the black clad Lady. I believed in "death do we part", and I knew that Carol did too! I didn't give a "damn" about what the laws of this era "claimed"!
"She has not been `faithful' to you," Lady Tirana teased me.
"What she `did' was not of her own `free will'," I answered.
"I think you are `of the Warriors'," Tirana now smiled back. Keri's eyes were like dark coals as they looked into mine then. She was a "classy" woman who some said looked like Janet Rogers. I believe Janet was a bit shorter however, although I'm not sure.
"I am `of the Warriors'," I answered, my right hand suddenly holding the front of her dress, her own dagger in my left pressed up against the vulnerable softness of her throat. She had been "careless". I recalled my D.I. He would have proud of me then.
"Bob!" Carol breathed softly, her hazel eyes wide with fear. And I think "something else" too. I have never struck Carol, or ever done anything to her that might even "imply" that I might. I think that in a way women "respond" to "men of violence" in a way that they do not "respond" to men who they do not think "vio- lent". It is, I think, why all women find "Warriors" attractive. Lorraine believes it also explains why so many wives will "stay" with a husband who beats them. I suspect that she may be right. There is in most women an "instinct" to submit to a strong male.
"I trust I did not `winkle' your dress," I said to Tirana, slipping her dagger back into the sheath at her hip, releasing her. Tirana stepping back, her dark eyes glowing hot into mine!
"Shall I kill him?" Cassie asked, her sword gleaming in the sunlight. Tirana shook her head in the negative, waved her back. I noticed that Keri had not drawn hers to "protect" Lady Tirana. I suspected she had "understood" that I meant no harm to Tirana!
"Release him from the chain," Tirana ordered. I saw Cassie "hesitate". She was "afraid of me" now. Tirana took the keys from her, and squatted herself before me, unlocking my shackle!
"Give him your sword," Tirana said to Cassie, drawing hers. Stripping off her veil, her dark eyes burning hotly into my own.
"No, Lady Tirana!" Carol begged, going to her knees, clutch- ing at Tirana's long flowing dress. She wore spike heeled boots, the open leather vest that reminds me so much of one I once knew. Of a woman Carol and I had once known there in Spain a year ago. Lady Tirana and the Countess Miranda de Sanchez del Cortez were much alike despite the fact they lived six hundred years apart!
"I was a `Lady of Swords' many years ago," Tirana said. I nodded, took the sword that Cassie gave me. Keri had drawn Carol back from her grandmother. I wondered if Tirana wished me dead. Keri gave me a smile, standing there, her dark eyes glowing hot!
"I fear I can lay claim to no such `titles'," I smiled back, taking a better grip on the weapon there in my hand. Cassie's sword being a shorter, somewhat "heavier" weapon than Tirana's. A number of men and women now running up, some with drawn swords! All the women on the estate, I might note here, did carry swords. Most Trelandarian women do, there being "incentives" to do so as the "militia law" applies to both sexes, I might note in this ms.
"It is a contest of skill," Lady Tirana said to them in lev- el tones. I thought then of Lorraine. They were, I felt, much alike in many ways. I wouldn't have stood a "chance" against the famous Warlady of California however. But against Lady Tirana???
I felt the sun warm on my shoulders as I faced Lady Tirana. I wanted to keep her facing the sun. Such is a common practice of Warriors. I think Tirana had no "doubts" about my membership in the caste. I was no longer a man of the 20th Century. No longer the "civilized" man that had walked the streets of Seaside so long ago now. The ruins of that city are now far beneath the blue green sea, I understand from one who has knowledge of such.
"It would be wise not to kill me," Lady Tirana informed me.
"I am but a `valueless male slave'," I pointed out to her.
"Your Queen `picked well'," Lady Tirana smiled back at me.
"You doubtlessly `knew' her once," I smiled back, on guard.
"She is a beautiful woman," Tirana said, suddenly attacking. I parried the thrust, which would have driven deep into my shoul- der. Tirana was "good". Perhaps not quite the equal of my wife, but she was most definitely better than any other woman I've met! On the other hand I've had a lot of practice fencing with Carol. She usually "beat" me, but on occasion I did manage to beat her!
"You are `skillful'," Tirana said, trying to circle about. I did not permit her to do so. The sun can be your friend or your enemy. I watched her, sensing her movements, her "stance".
"You are a `Warrioress' Trelandar can be proud of," I said. Meeting her "sudden attack", returning it this time, making her jump back. She was lethal, deadly, a "worthy" opponent, I mused! I could hear the men at arms and their feminine counterparts now talking in low tones, saw Carol and Keri standing there to one side. Tirana had not been a "match" for Carol. Was she for me? Keri watching me closely, and speaking now in low tones to Carol.
Lorraine has written that swordsmanship is more a matter of "skill" than strength. I believe it is true, but not completely. There is also the "issue" of "physical fitness" that comes into play here. One needs a certain degree of "quickness". I was barefooted. Lady Tirana wore high heeled boots as "Ladies" do. I could hear birds singing in the trees. I thought of Lorraine. Of what "she" might "do" in a situation such as this. I did not wish to allow this "match" to "continue". Tirana was "too good"!
I "allowed" Lady Tirana to attack me once again. I parried aside her long slim rapier-like blade, and driving forward before she could jump back placed my point right at her throat! A shud- der going through the brunette as I smiled and lowered my sword.
"He is `of the Warriors'," Lady Tirana spoke. "Chain his woman beside him for the next hour." I gave my sword to Cassie. Took a lovely provocative brownette in my arms and kissed her.