Civitatis Ar, Plus!

Avenues / Streets / Districts

Wall Road

When I came to the west gate I knelt before a citizen. "Master," I said, "may I accompany you through the gate?"
"No," he said.
I rose to my feet, and looked behind me.
Then I approached the gate more closely. The security here seemed unusually strict today. I did not understand this. Wagons were being inspected even to the point of prying up the lids of boxes and slitting open sacks. I saw a slave girl who was hooded stopped and unhooded, and examined carefully. Then she was rehooded and, on her leash, in the company of a master, allowed to proceed.
I walked boldly, nonchalantly, toward the gate.
Then I was stopped, crossed spears before me. "Forgive me, Master," I said, bowing my head, and quickly moving back, then turning away.
A few yards from the gate I stopped and turned again, and looked at it. Tears sprang into my eyes.
I then fled north for a few blocks on the Wall Road, and then turned right, east, to make my way back to Emerald. I saw no sign of the sleen or the crowd on Emerald. In this fashion I had doubled back on my trail. I hoped this might confuse the sleen. I continued to walk north on Emerald. The streets, I noticed, everywhere, had apparently not been swept down and washed. That injunction against their cleaning had apparently not been confined to a given district. It seemed to have been citywide in its scope.
I was bewildered, and confused and miserable. I did not know if I had eluded the sleen or not. I did not know what to do. I was afraid to return to the agency and afraid not to return to it. My trails would presumably be particularly rich and numerous in that vicinity. Certainly I left that building in the morning and returned to it in the evening. On the other hand, if I did not return to it, I did not know, then, what I should do. I could not leave the city and, if I remained within it, it seemed obvious that I must be apprehended, if not by the sleen then by free citizens, probably guardsmen. I did not think it would be difficult for them to do so. I would stand out. I was garbed as what I was, a slave, and my collar, which I could not remove, clearly identified me. Indeed, as soon as it became dark I would become suspect as a runaway slave. Slave girls, with the exception of coin girls, lure girls for taverns, and such, are generally not permitted to walk unaccompanied about the streets of a city after dark. I did not have the common garb of such slaves, such as the bell and coin box chained about my neck, of the coin girl, or the tavern silk, with its advertising, of a tavern's lure girl. My absence from my kennel would presumably be reported by midnight, the twentieth hour of the Gorean day. By morning guardsmen would be alerted to be on the lookout for me. How, too, could I live in the city? I might try to live by begging and scavenging garbage for a time as do those vagrant free women sometimes called she-urts, but I being collared, could never pass for one. The she-urts often wear tunics almost as short as those of slaves. This is supposedly to make it easier for them to flee from guardsmen. On the other hand the guardsman usually ignore them. Sometimes they will catch one and bind her helplessly, just to let her know that she can be caught, if men wish. These she-urts have their gangs and territories. I had little doubt but what they might set upon me and bind me, and turn me over to guardsmen, hoping for some small reward. I, being a slave, could hope for no mercy from them. They would hate and despise me. As low as they might be they were a thousand times higher than I. They were free women. Once or twice a year, particularly when there are complaints, or they are becoming nuisances, many of them will be rounded up and taken before a praetor. Their sentence is almost invariably slavery. Interestingly, once branded and in the collar, and knowing themselves helpless and under suitable male discipline, it is said they become joyful and content. It is almost as if they had adopted their mode of life and slavelike costumes because, in some part of themselves, perhaps some deep, hidden part, they were begging men to take them and make them slaves. They thought they hated men but they were, in fact, only begging to be put at their feet.
"Hold slave!" called a voice. "Do not look back! To the wall! Not so close! Back further! Now lean forward, putting the palms of your hands against the wall. Spread your feet, widely. More widely!"
Swiftly, frightened, I complied. Then I felt his foot kick my feet yet farther apart.
I was helpless, leaning against the wall, my feet, very widely, terribly uncomfortably, apart. My own weight held my hands against the wall. If I were to remove a hand from the wall I would fall against it; from such a position, so awkward and helpless, it is difficult to regain one's balance quickly and smoothly. In such a position one is much at the mercy of the one behind them.
"Oh!" I said.
He swiftly determined that I was unarmed. To be sure, this is not a difficult determination to make when one is in a slave tunic.
"Oh!" I cried.
"You are not wearing the iron belt," he said.
"No, Master," I said.
"You may kneel," he said.
I struggled to the wall, and then turned and knelt before him. He was a guardsman.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Tiffany," I said, "of Feast Slaves, of the Enterprises of Aemilianus, the Plaza of Tarns."
I dared not lie to him. He could check my collar. I carried my identification about with me. It was locked on my neck.
He crouched down before me and took my wrists in his right hand, holding them together. He then, with his left hand, pulled my head back. He checked the collar. I had not thought he would have done so. I was now especially pleased I had not tried to lie to him. Had I done so I suspected I would immediately, on such suspicious grounds, after a summary beating, have been braceleted and leashed.
He rose to his feet.
"You are a long way from the Plaza of Tarns," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"What are you doing here, alone?" he asked, not unkindly.
"Walking, Master," I said.
"You are not in the iron belt," he said.
"No, Master," I said.
"You are far north on Emerald," he said. "You are not now on Hermadius or the avenue of the Central Cylinder."
"No, Master," I said.
"I advise you to stay away from the lesser-known streets in this area," he said. "I would stay on Emerald or return south. These are not strolling areas for pretty slave girls, particularly for those not in the belt."
"Yes, Master," I said. "Thank you, Master."  KAJIRA OF GOR-, (19) Pages 315-318

Frightened by the guardsman's warning, and not wishing to retrace my steps on Emerald I turned to my left, to take a side street to the Wall Road, which I assumed would be safe. Surely the Wall Road, which followed the interior circuit of Ar's walls, was only some four or five blocks west. But I could not reach it directly. I took one street into another, and then another, and the streets seemed to be becoming narrower and more dingy. It was hot in the afternoon now and there were few people abroad on them. In a few Ehn I became confused, and suddenly came to realize that I was lost. I did not know the streets by name in this area and even had I been able to read the signs, there were none written here on the corners of the buildings. I was no longer fully certain even, with the shadows, the narrowness of the streets, their many turnings, of my general orientation. I could not even. because of the twistings of the streets, walk in a given straight direction. I saw a youth lounging against a wall. I put my head up and walked past him.
After a few yards I looked back. He was watching me, but he had not moved. I hurried on. I made the only turn I could, right; at the end of the street.
In a few moments, I rejoiced. I could see the wall, beyond the end of the street. This street, too, was wider than the others. It was bright and hot. It seemed deserted. Happily I hurried forward.  KAJIRA OF GOR-, (19) Page 319

Before me was a wall, with a. high wooden gate. It must surround the courtyard of some private house. Buildings hemmed me in. There was no way through or around the buildings. There was no opening here to the Wall Road, which must, judging from the proximity of the wall, be only forty or fifty yards behind the building.  KAJIRA OF GOR-, (19) Pages 323-324

The other girls were in no doubt as to the route home. They did not even proceed to the Wall Road. They retreated on the street a bit, and then went south and east for a few streets, and then, suddenly, turning right, we found ourselves on Emerald. This was the route, I took it, which had been followed by Hassan, the sleen, and the others. Moving south on Emerald we came, after about an Ahn, to the Plaza of Tarns. In a few moments, then, we had re-entered the agency.
"You are just in time," said the doorkeeper to us.
We lined up, single-file, at his counter. There was a cup and a pitcher of Bazi tea on the counter. Bazi tea is a common beverage on Gor. Many Goreans are fond of it. I was last in line. He took our disks from the out-board and hung them, one by one, in their places, on the in-board.  KAJIRA OF GOR-, (19) Page 332

"We are coming to the Wall Road," said Marcus. This is the longest road, or street, in Ar. It follows the interior circumference of the wall. It is not only a convenience to citizens but it enables troops to be moved rapidly from point to point in the defenses.  MAGICIANS OF GOR-, (25) Page 112

I hurried forward, to the Wall Road.
A gigantic breach, over four hundred yards in width, had been made in the wall. The bottom of the breach was still some forty or fifty feet high. The edges of is tapered up to the height of the wall on each side, in this area, some hundred to a hundred and twenty feet Gorean above the pavement. The breach swarmed with human beings. Stone after stone was being tumbled down from the walls, to the outside of the city. These, I had heard, on the other side, were being lifted to wagons and carted away. On the walls were not only men of Ar, and male youth, but women and girls, as well.
I stood on the Wall Road, back near Harness Street. Here I was about a hundred feet back from the wall. In moment or two Marcus was again beside me, and Phoebe behind him, on his left. The girl normally heels a right-handed master on the left, that she not encumber the movements of the weapon hand.  MAGICIANS OF GOR-, (25) Page 117

We continued to regard the work on the walls.
Here and there upon the walls, among those working, were silked flute girls, sometimes sitting cross-legged on flat stones, rather even with or even below the heads of workers, sometimes perched cross-legged on large stones, above the heads of workers, sometimes moving about among the workers, sometimes strolling, playing, at other times turning and dancing. Some were also on the lower level, even on the Wall Road.
"Many of the flute girls seem pretty," said Marcus.
"Yes," I said. To be sure, we were rather far from them.
"It is a joke of Lurius of Jad, I gather," said Marcus, "that the walls of Ar should be torn down to the music of flute girls."
"I would think so," I said.
"What an extreme insult," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"You will note," he said, "that many of the girls sit cross-legged."
"Yes," I said.
"They should be beaten," he said.
"Yes," I said.
On Gor men sit cross-legged, not women. The Gorean female, whether free or slave, whether of low caste or high caste, kneels. This posture on the part of a woman, aping that of men, is a provocation. I had seen panther girls in the north, in their desire to repudiate their own nature, and in their envy of men, adopt such a posture. To be sure, such women, reduced to slavery, quickly learn to kneel and usually, considering their new status, with their knees widely apart. The cross-legged posture of several of the flute girls was undoubtedly an insolence, intended as a further insult to the citizens of Ar.
"Why is it that the men do not punish them?" asked Marcus.
"I do not know," I said.
"Perhaps they are afraid to," he said.
"I think rather it had to do with the new day in Ar, and the new understandings."
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Officially," I said, "the music of the flute girls is supposed to make the work more pleasant."
"Who believes that?" asked Marcus.
"Many may pretend to, or even manage to convince themselves of it," I said.
"What of the provocative posture?" asked Marcus. "Surely the insult of that is clear enough to anyone."
"It is supposedly a time of freedom," I said. "Thus why should a good fellow of Ar object if a flute girl sits in a given fashion? Is not everyone to be permitted anything?"
"No," said Marcus, "freedom is for the free. Others are to be kept in line, and exactly so. Society depends on divisions and order, each element stabilized perfectly in it harmonious relationship with all others."
"You do not believe, then," I asked, "that everyone is the same, or must be supposed to be such, despite all evidence to the contrary, and that society thrives best as a disordered struggle?"
Marcus looked at me, startled.
"No," I said. "I see that you do not."
"Do you believe such?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Not any more."
We returned our attention to the wall.  MAGICIANS OF GOR-, (25) Pages 118-119

We saw some children to one side, on the city side of the Wall Road. They had put up a small wall of stones, and they were now pushing it down.
On the wall, in the trough of the breach, we saw four men rolling a heavy stone toward the field side of the wall. A flute gild was parodying, or accompanying, their efforts on the flute, the instrument seeming to strain with them, and then, when they rolled the stone down, she played a skirl of descending notes on the flute, and, spinning about, danced away. The men laughed.
"I have seen enough," said Marcus.
There was suddenly near us, startling us, another skirl of notes on a flute, the common double flute. A flute girl, come apparently from the wall side of the Wall Road, danced tauntingly near us, to our right, and, with the flute, while playing, gestured toward the wall, as though encouraging us to join the others in their labor. I, and Marcus, I am sure, were angry. Not only had we been startled by the sudden, intrusive noise, which the girl must have understood would have been the case, but we resented the insinuation that we might be such as would of our own will join the work on the wall. Did she think we were of Ar, that we were the conquered, the pacified, the confused, and fooled, the verbally manipulate, the innocuous, the predictable, the tamed? She was an exciting brunet, in a short tunic of diaphanous silk. She was slender, and was probably kept on a carefully supervised diet by her master or trainer. Her dark eyes shone with amusement. She pranced before us, playing. She waved the flute again toward the wall.
We regarded her.
She again gestured, playing, toward the wall.
I had little doubt that she assumed from our appearance in this area that we were of Ar.
We did not move.
A gesture of annoyance crossed her lovely features. She played more determinedly, as though we might not understand her intent.
Still we did not move.
Then, angrily, she spun about, dancing, to return to her former post near the wall side of the Wall Road. She was attractive, even insolently so, at the moment, in the diaphanous silk.
"You have not been given permission to withdraw," I said.
She turned about, angrily, holding the flute.
"You are armed," she suddenly said, perhaps then for the first time really noting this homely fact.
"We are not of Ar," I said.
"Oh," she said, standing her ground, trembling a little.
"Are you accustomed to standing in the presence of free men?" I asked.
"I will kneel if it will please you," she said.
"If you do not kneel," I said, "it is possible that I may be displeased."
She regarded me.
"Kneel!" I said.
Swiftly she knelt.
I walked over to her and, taking her by the hair, twisting it, she crying out, turned her about and threw her to her belly on the Wall Road.
She sobbed in anger.
Marcus and I crouched near her.
"Oh!" she said.
"She is not in the iron belt," said Marcus.
"That is a further insult to those of Ar," I said, "that they would put unbelted flute girls among them."
"Yes," growled Marcus.
The tone of his voice, I am sure, did nothing to set our fair prisoner at ease. Flute girls, incidentally, when hired from the master, to entertain and serve at parties, are commonly unbelted, that for the convenience of the guests.
"She is not unattractive," I said.
"Oh!" she said, as I pulled her silk muchly away, tucking it then in and about the slender girdle of silken cord at her waist.
"No," said Marcus. "She is not unattractive."
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
"You have been an insolent slave," I said.
"No," she said. "No!"
"You have not been pleasing," I said.
"You do not own me!" she said. "You are not my master!"
"The discipline of a slave," I said, "may be attended to by any free person, otherwise she might do much what she wished, provided only her master did not learn of it." The legal principle was clear, and had been upheld in several courts, in several cities, including Ar.
I then stood.
"Lash her," I said to Marcus.
"Please no, Master!" she suddenly cried.
I was pleased to note that she, as she was a slave, had now recollected to address free men by the title of ‘Master'.
Marcus used his belt for the business, slipping the knife in its sheath, and his pouch, from it, and handing them to me. He also gave me his over-the-shoulder sword belt as well, that he might not be encumbered.
Then the disciplined slave lay trembling on her belly, her eyes wide, her cheeks tear-stained, her hands beside her head, the tips of her fingers on the stones.  MAGICIANS OF GOR-, (25) Pages 120-122

We then turned about, and left the vicinity of the Wall Road. Near the entrances to Harness Street, off the Wall Road, I turned about.  MAGICIANS OF GOR-, (25) Page 133
 

Kudos to you, Mr. Norman for writing the Gorean series!
A rich, yet utterly simple saga; a world, a time, a people;
those of the Counter-Earth .. the planet .. Gor.
Thank you!

The material presented herein was researched and compiled by me, naia{Saul}.
The material referenced comes from John Norman's Gor Series, The Counter-Earth Saga.
This is a work in process.
Please, do not take, copy, duplicate, or use this work as your own.
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