"It was far away," said the pit master, sitting, cross-legged, as he sometimes did, before the chained peasant.

The pit master's legs were small for his upper body, almost bandy. He looked like a boulder of sorts, sitting there in the cell.

It was late, the same night as the raid of the intruders. I had been unable to attend upon the peasant until now, as I had been late returning to the pens. The pit master had waited for me.

"Master is all right," I had said, relievedly, returned by the Lady Constanzia, kneeling before him.

"And I am pleased you live, little Janice," said he, "and you, too, Lady Constanzia."

We were both kneeling before him.

The pit master had been covered with grime and blood. He had been cut about the left shoulder. A b.l.o.o.d.y rag had been knotted about his upper body. His lower body was filthy ac it Seemed that one or more of the tunnels had been flooded to the height of a man's waist, to facilitate the entry of water urts and tharlarion. These had been, I gathered, by noise and fire, herded toward intruders. But now he was clean and clad in a fresh tunic. That he had been wounded would not now be discernible, the blood stanched, the wound dressed, the dressing hidden beneath the tunic. It was not unusual, incidentally, for the pit master to be careful of his appearance when he came to the cell of the peasant. He would often bathe and attire himself in fresh, clean raiment before presenting himself before him.

It seemed strange that he would accord such courtesy and regard, such esteem, almost reverence, to one who was a mere peasant.

"I am finished, Master," I said.

"What is honor?" asked the pit master of the peasant.

The peasant lifted his head, and looked at him, uncomprehendingly.

"Honor," said the pit master.

"I do not know," said the peasant.

"I do not know, either," said the pit master.

"I have heard of it, once, somewhere," said the peasant. "But it was long ago."

"I too, have heard of it," said the pit master, bitterly, "but, too, it was long ago."

"Is it not something for the upper castes?" asked the peasant.

"Perhaps," granted the pit master.

"Then it is not our concern," said the peasant.

"No," said the pit master, bitterly. "It is not our concern."

"Is it time for the planting?" asked the peasant.

"No," said the pit master.

We then left the cell.

TWENTY SIX

"You have eaten nothing!" I chided the Lady Constanzia. She lay in the white sliplike garment, that undergarment resembling a slave tunic, on the mat in her cell, her knees drawn up. Her eyes were red with weeping. She stared outward, though I think she was looking at nothing. I did not even know if she had heard me.

I had returned from my duties in the cell of the peasant, following the pit master back to his quarters. It was late, the same night as the raid of the intruders.

A messenger had been awaiting the return of the pit master. His missive had been delayed, given the disruptions in the city, and those in the pits.

"I will never see him again!" said the Lady Constanzia.

"Eat," I said.

"No," she said.

"Do you wish me whipped, that you have not fed?" I asked.

"Take it to the other girls," she said. "None will know."

I put the plate to one side. My fellow pit slaves would be glad to get it. It was better than their common fare in the pits. They would fall on their knees about the pan, seizing what they could from it.

"I bring you word," I said, "which has but recently been received."

"Is it word from him?" she asked, looking up.

"Alas, no," I said. "But it should make you happy. It is good news for you, indeed."

"What?" she asked, in misery.

"Your ransom has been paid," I said. "The agreed-upon amounts have been lodged with the business council, the entire matter attested to by the commercial praetor. I saw the orders, and the seals."

"You cannot read," she said.

"I could not read the orders," I said, "but I saw them, and the seals."

The orders, bearing the seals, had been delivered to the pit master.

"Rejoice!" I said. "Your sojourn here, in this damp, dismal place, in this cell, behind these bars, will soon be done. You will soon be returned to your native city and your accustomed mode of life."

She put her head down on the mat, and sobbed.

"Do not cry," I said. "This is what you have longed for, this is what you have waited for, this is what you have lived for, what you have hungered for, your freedom, your liberty!"

She wept.

"What is wrong?" I asked.

"Better a chain in a poor man's kitchen," she said.

"What?" I said.

She looked up at me. "You know I am not a free woman," she said.

"You are a free woman!" I a.s.sured her. "You must be!"

"Why?" she asked.

I did not know what to respond to her.

"I want to be helpless," she said. "I want to be owned!"

"Lady Constanzia!" I protested.

"Do you not understand?" she asked. "I want, with all that I am, with everything that I am, to love and serve, holding back nothing, ever! I want to give all!"

I was silent.

"Surely you understand these things, Janice," she said.

"I am only a collared slave," I said. "I have no choice in such matters!"

"Fortunate Janice!" she wept.

"Hist!" I said. "I think I hear the approach of the guard. Hasten! Don the robes of concealment!"

"No," she wept.

"You must!" I said.

"No," she said. "Whip me, if you wish, as a slave."

The guard's footsteps came closer.

I seized up her robes of concealment and flung them over her as though they might have been bedclothes.

I then knelt before her, putting my hands out. "Please, Master!" I said. "Here is a free woman! She is not clothed. All is well. I will soon leave the cell!

Please do not look. Please do not compromise her modesty!"

But he did look, a little, particularly where one ankle emerged from beneath the robes.

But then he took his way away, continuing with his rounds.

"Thank you, Master," I said.

"Those were the happiest days of my life," said the Lady Constanzia, "with him, in his power, in a collar and the rags of a slave."

I kissed her, trying to comfort her.

"I will never see him again. I will never see him again," she wept.

I picked up the plate, with the untouched food, and left the cell, locking it behind me.

TWENTY SEVEN

"May I speak, Master?" I asked.

"Yes," said the pit master.

I was following him in the corridors, on his morning rounds, the day following the events recently recounted.

"The strangers sought an entrance to the tunnels," I said.

"It would seem so," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Who knows?" he said.

"Master knows," I speculated.

"Are you insolent?" he asked, not looking back, continuing to move before me, with those short, irregular steps.

"No, Master," I said. "Forgive me, Master! I beg not to be beaten!"

TWENTY EIGHT

"Is this the Lady Constanzia?" asked the fellow behind the high desk, looking down upon us.

"Yes, your honor," said the pit master.

"Bring her forward," he said. He was, as I understood it, an officer in the business court, that under the jurisdiction of the commercial praetor, subject, ultimately, to the high council.

The Lady Constanzia, clad in new, rich, ornate robes of concealment, fully hooded and veiled, was conducted forward, between two guards, from the pits. There were also, in the lofty, circular, sunlit room, the light coming through high, narrow windows, dust motes visible within it, two guards of the court. A broad, scarlet marble circle was before the high desk of the praetor's officer, and the Lady Constanzia was conducted to its center, the guards then withdrawing, moving back, several feet, leaving her there, alone, on the circle. She seemed small there, even tiny, before the high desk. The pit master, as indicated, was also in the room.

I, too, was there. Indeed, it was I who, in my office as keeper for the state of the free woman, had led her here, she leashed and back-braceleted on the way. Though it might be thought demeaning to a free woman to be in the keeping of a slave, it was also thought to be less compromising to her modesty than to be led by a male. Having such in the keeping of a female, too, of course, is likely to be safer than entrusting them to a male who, after all, particularly if irritated or provoked, might be tempted to do far more to her than compromise her modesty.