I looked back again. Quietly, implacably, he was following.

I had little doubt he would await his chance.

"Well, Tuka," said Aulus, looking down at me. "You are not dallying now." "No, Master," I said.

"One might almost think you were anxious to reach the camp," he said. "Yes, Master," I said.

27 The Pen; Outside the Pen

I lay in the center of the pen.

I was trembling, but here I think I was safe.

I had feared they might not have a pen here, but only a chain, perhaps stretched between trees, that we might be attached to, by the ankle or neck. Such a thing, though it might have its guard, might be more easily approached. The pen was some forty feet square, and some seven feet in height. It had an open roofing of bars, supported by hollow metal posts, and bars, too, covered now with sand, floored it. It could be assembled, fastened together with plates, bolts and chains, and similarly disassembled, and transported in wagons. Mercenaries, following the demands of their business, the exigencies of their trade, frequently move their camps. Though the wagons could doubtless be drawn by tharlarion, if speed were necessary, the harnesses I had seen on the covered harness racks, near the wagons, were not made for tharlarion. They were made for women. Girls, thus, and perhaps some stripped free women among them, would draw the wagons. Doubtless drovers would be with them on the road, with their whips, should they be tempted to lag in their zeal. There were only some twenty or so women penned with me now. Many, perhaps a hundred or more, were doubtless spending the night in the tents of soldiers, signed out to them for the night. There was one gate to our pen. It was secured with two locks, padlocks, and chains. It was guarded by two men.

I rolled over, in the soft sand, lying within the dark blanket.

How pleased I was that there was such a pen.

Here I was safe, I was sure.

I had no doubt of the menace and intent of he who had followed us back to the camp of Pietro Vacchi. He had been making his way, meaningfully, the blade in its sheath, toward Venna, and the black chain. It had been his intent, sooner or later, in one way or another, to renew his acquaintance with a certain slave, one who had once betrayed him. then he had recognized her on the road. He had then immediately changed his route. Did they really think he had not known his way to Brundisium, a native of Brundisium, and such a man? Did they really think he had returned to the camp only to make a fresh start in the morning? No, he had been following us for a purpose, and it had to do with a slave, one he was determined to bring within the reach of his hand, and blade. Had I had any doubt he had recognized me on the road, and that that had been responsible for his change of direction, that doubt had been dispelled in the camp. When I had knelt before a post, my hands behind me, chained back about the post, a helmet beside me, set in the sand, like a vessel, into which ostraka would be placed, men had come to look upon me. They had come to see if they thought it worth their while, in the spending of their evening, to wait about for a time, to see me dance, and then, perhaps, if they were pleased, to drop an ostrakan into the helmet. Among them came he whom I most feared. I strained forward, trying to kiss at his legs, but the chain on my wrists, pulling against the back of the post, held me back. I then realized that he had selected the place where he had stood with care. He had judged the distance with cruel exactness. It was such that I would try to reach him, desperately, to kiss him, to placate him. It was also such that I would be unable to do so. I had looked up into his eyes, and then, in terror, had put down my head. He had then left me, and another man had come to look upon me. I had danced that night between campfires, for the mercenaries. He had not chosen to watch. It seems, once again, that he would take suitable precautions, not be softened, that the iron of his intent be neither diminished nor imperiled, that there be no possible weakening of his terrible resolve.

I turned to my back, within the blanket. It was a very dark night. I could scarcely see the bars, it was so dark.

I think the mercenaries had found me pleasing. Surely they had responded well to the dance, and the helmet had been filled with ostraka. It had not started well, for I had been hampered by terror, but soon, as I recalled my earlier beating by Aulus, and knew I might be again whipped if I did not do well, and as I reassured myself that within the camp I would presumably be safe, and as I saw the men, and I knew they wished pleasure, and that it was within my power to give it to them, and abundantly, and must do so, to the best of my power. I began to lose my terror and then, at last, I think. I danced well. "Superb!" I heard cry. Far then I was from the shy, introverted girl of the library, she who had scarcely dared to admit, even to herself, even in the concealments of her most secret heart, that in her belly lurked the dispositions and nature of a pleasure slave! But now, openly, and whether she willed it or not, she was that very slave. "Superb!" cried another man. I danced, barefoot in the sand, naked, in my collar, my body illuminated redly in the light of the fires. I was joyful, a woman! How powerful, and grand, were the men! How I wanted to please them, and knew that I must. They did not fear, or object to, masculine power. They delighted in it, reveled in it. It ennobled and exalted them. It made them great! It made them glorious! And had they not been such men, how could I have been such a woman?

It was very dark out.

Afterwards when the five ostraka had been drawn something of my fears had returned. I had even begged two of the fellows not to take me far from the fires, but, dragged by the hair, bent over, I had followed them. Then I had served them in the darkness, between tents. Once, my hands over my head, I had felt the tent ropes. Once, when I had bent over one fellow, I had lifted my head, in terror, thinking I might have heard a sound, but, it seems, I had not. I had then again addressed myself to my labors. After I had served five men I had been conducted to the tent of Pietro Vacchi. He, among the others, had watched me dance. Indeed, I had danced my beauty particularly to him, more than once, as he was the captain of these men, and his ruggedness and strength, his entire demeanor, that of a master, stirred my belly. I could not flee from him. But in a moment I would not have wanted to. He was a true master, and, in moments, licking and kissing, squirming, moaning, crying out with gratitude, I was helpless in his grasp. When he had left me I had lain on the rug, looking after him in disbelief. What a slave such men made us! I had lain on my back, the chain on my neck, my fingernails scratching at the rug. When I had seen him standing near me again I had gone to my belly and pressed my lips fervently to his feet. "Master!" I had wept. He then took me by the upper arms and, with a sound of chain, lifted me, and flung me back, again to the rug. "Oh yes, Master!" I had cried out, again, in gratitude.

One of the girls near me stirred in her sleep. "Let me serve you, let me serve you," she was moaning, in her dreams.

I, however, for one, was now pleased to be behind the bars of the pen. Something of my original terror had returned when Pietro Vacchi had led me to the exit of his tent and pointed the way, through the darkness, to the pen. I had bellied, and begged, for a guard. "Do you wish another whipping?" he had inquired. "No, Master!" I said. He had, it seems, taken note of my beating on the Vitkel Aria. Too, I was sure the marks on me attested to it. I rose to my feet, to creep, frightened, in the direction he had indicated. "Wait," he said, as an afterthought. "Wait." I was only too willing to dally. "You have heard of the other girl?" he asked. "Master?" I asked. "Guard," he called, "escort this young lady to her quarters." "Yes, Captain," he said. Pietro Vacchi then returned to his tent. The guard was behind me. "Lesha!" he said. Immediately, responsive to this command, I flung my wrists behind me, separated by some two inches, and lifted my chin, my head turned to the left. I felt slave bracelets flung, snapping shut, on my wrists. I was braceleted. In another moment I was leashed. "Precede me," said the guard. I went before him. In a moment we were among the trees, on a path. "Oh!" I said, softly. The guard had begun to caress me. In another moment or two he stopped me with the leash, in the darkness. "May I speak, Master?" I asked. "No," he said. He was through with me quickly. Then I was dragged to my feet and conducted, again, toward the pens. I though I saw a movement in the darkness, but I was not certain. "What is it?" asked the guard, uneasily. "Nothing, Master," I said. If I had truly detected something, as perhaps I had between the tents, the tiny sound, or now, perhaps, a movement in the darkness, subtle, almost unnoticeable, I had little doubt as to what might be its source. But he had not, in either case, struck in the darkness. He had had no interest, it seemed, in killing the soldier, or the guard. It was not him he wanted. He would continue, it seemed, to bide his time. in a few moments, however, happily, I was released into the pen. "Blankets are at the side," he said. "You may take only one." Yes, Master," I said. "May I speak?" "No," he said.