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 Love BetweenHere are relevant references from the Books where Love Between is mentioned. I make no pronouncements on these matters, but report them as I find them. Arrive at your own conclusions. I wish you well, Fogaban Click a heading to jump down to that listing. Main Headings Love Between Castes Love Between Cities Love Between Citizens and Ruler Love Between Companions Love Between Family Love Between Free Women and Slaves Love Between Kurii Love Between Men Love Between Slaves Love Between Slaves and Free Women Love Between the Men of Tyros and the Women of Hura
There is little love lost between Physicians and Initiates, even as is the case between Scribes and Initiates. Little love is lost betwixt the castes of warriors and assassins. Little love is lost between the Scribes and Merchants. The Scribes is a high caste and the Merchants is the richest caste. Each therefore regards itself as superior to the other, and each, then, would be reluctant to seem to lower itself before the other. Little love was lost between the higher castes and the lower castes.
The captains muttered angrily. It did not bode well for Port Kar that the Ubar of Tyros should voyage to Cos. More than ever it now seemed possible, or probable, that the two island Ubarates might well be conspiring against Port Kar. Why else should there be a meeting of the two Ubars? Generally, there was almost as little love lost between them as between them and the Ubars of Port Kar. "Even so," said Callimachus, "do you think that he, a warrior of Ar, a captain, will simply disguise himself and hurry off to a rendezvous in Victoria? He is surely aware that many in Victoria bear those of Ar little love. He will be suspicious." "Where lies your allegiance?" asked he. "I am of Port Kar," I said. "There is no love lost between Ar and Port Kar," he said. "We are at least at war with Cos," I said. "Is Treve a city?" Ellen asked. "Yes," said Laura. "And little love is lost between those of Treve and this city." "What is the name of this city?" asked Ellen. "You do not know?" "No." "Ar," said Laura. One of the fellows started up a song, and it was taken up by the others, a song of Cos, a rowing song, from which island Ubarate derived Peisistratus and some three or four of his fellows. The song, however, was well known, certainly on Tyros and Tabor, named for its shape, and in other places. Cabot had heard it in Port Kar, but attributed there judiciously to another origin, as little love was lost between Cos and Port Kar.
In the fields little love was lost where the house of Yamada was concerned. His mercilessly imposed tyranny, wrought by the edge of the sword, was keenly resented.
"Let there be made a feast," decreed Thurnus. There was a cheer. "But first. Thurnus, my love," said Melina, speaking now from the doorway of their hut, "let us drink to the victory of the night." There was silence. She carried a metal goblet, and, slowly, in stately fashion, descended the steps to the ground, approaching Thurnus. She lifted the cup to him. "Drink, noble Thurnus, my love," said she to him. "I bring you the brew of victory." Suddenly I realized what must be her plan. Melina was a shrewd, clever woman. She had counted on Bran Loort and his young men defeating Thurnus. Yet, in the event they did not manage this, she had purchased a powder from Tup Ladletender, the peddler. Had Bran Loort been victorious she had promised me to him. But, too, I had been promised to Tup Ladletender, in exchange for the powder, were it successful. In each plan Dina, the slave girl, had been the bauble with which to bring about her will. Had Bran Loort been successful, I would have been his. Ladletender's powder would then be unnecessary, and would be returned to him. If Bran Loort was unsuccessful, then the way would be clear to use Ladletender's powder, and I. of course, Bran Loort defeated, could then be straightforwardly tendered in payment for it. The plans, sharp alternatives, excluded one another; their common element was I, as payment. Melina had planned well. "Drink, my love," said Melina, lifting the cup to Thurnus. "Drink to your victory, and mine." Thurnus took the cup. I tried to cry out, but could not. I struggled in the stock. My eyes were wild over the heavy gagging that had been inflicted upon me. None looked upon me. I struggled in the stock. I tried to scream. I could utter no sound. I wore a Gorean gag. Do not drink it, Master!" I wanted to scream, "It is poisoned! Do not drink! It is poison!" "Drink, my love," said Melina. I could utter no sound. I wore a Gorean gag. Thurnus lifted the cup to his lips. He paused. "Drink," urged Melina. "It is our common victory," said Thurnus. "Yes, my love," said Melina. "Drink first, Companion," said Thurnus. Melina seemed startled. Then she said, "It is first your victory, then mine, my love." Thurnus smiled. "Drink you first, my love," she urged. "My love," smiled Thurnus, "drink you first." "First, you," said she. "Drink," said Thurnus. His voice was not pleasant. Melina's face went white. "Drink," said Thurnus. She reached forth, hands shaking, to take the cup. "I shall hold the cup," said Thurnus. "Drink." "No," said she. She put her head down. "It is poison." Thurnus smiled. Then he put his head back, and drained the cup. she then, to her pleasure, well understands his dominance over her; then her slavery is truly brought home to her; even among free lovers, I have heard, the man, in the fullness of his heat, often laughs at the woman's illusion of freedom and seizes her to him as a slave;
Biographical details are tedious, so suffice it to say that I was a bright child, fairly large for my age, and was given a creditable upbringing by an aunt who furnished everything that a child might need, with the possible exception of love. "Father," I said. He straightened and turned to face me across that simple, strange room. It was impossible to tell if he had wept. He looked at me with sadness in his eyes, and his rather stern features seemed for a moment to be tender. Looking into his eyes, I realized, with an incomprehensible suddenness and a joy that still bewilders me, that someone existed who loved me. As we fought, the men of Ar, fighting brilliantly for their city, their honor and loved ones, pushed back the men of Pa-Kur again and again, but from the interior of the cylinder swarmed more men of the Assassin. "But my father," said Vika, "whose slave she was, and who was of the Caste of Physicians of Treve, loved her very much and asked her to be his Free Companion." Vika laughed softly. "For three years she refused him," she said. "Why?" I asked. "Because she loved him," said Vika, "and did not wish him to take for his Free Companion only a lowly Passion Slave." "He must have loved you very much, after your mother died," I said. "Yes," said Vika, "I suppose so - but he was a fool." "Why do you say that?" I asked. "He followed me into the Sardar, to try and save me," she said. "He must have been a very brave man," I said. She rolled away from me and stared at the wall. After a time she spoke, her words cruel with contempt. "He was a pompous little fool," she said, "and afraid even of the cry of a larl." She sniffed. Suddenly she rolled back to face me. "How," she asked, "could my mother have loved him? He was only a fat, pompous little fool." "Perhaps he was kind to her," I suggested, "- when others were not." "Why would anyone be kind to a Passion Slave?" asked Vika. I shrugged. "For the Passion Slave," she said, "it is the belled ankle, perfume, the whip and the furs of love." "Perhaps he was kind to her," I suggested again, "- when others were not." "I don't understand," said Vika. "Perhaps," I said, "he cared for her and spoke to her and was gentle - and loved her." "Yes," I said. I shook my head and wiped my eyes. I still held the memory of the lonely, beautiful woman whom I had known so briefly in my childhood, who in those short years had so loved me. Inwardly I cursed the Mul-Torch that had brought tears to the eyes of a Warrior of Ko-ro-ba. "Why did she not remain on Gor?" I asked. "It frightened her," said Misk, "and your father asked that she be allowed to return to Earth, for loving her he wished her to be happy and also perhaps he wanted you to know something of his old world."
One of the women did come up beside the wagon with a switch and struck Feiqa in fury three times. Feiqa, on her rope, moving, shrank small before her, trying to cover her face and body. There is little love lost between free women and slaves, particularly in these times. The Lady Constanzia, now that I was gagged, loosened the leash at the ring, so that my head was no longer bound back tightly to the ring. I might now sit at the ring, or kneel near it, or even lie beneath it. A woman behaving in this fashion and accordingly being suspected of the collar, of trying desperately to conceal her femininity by this ruse, may be remanded to free women for an examination. If a brand is found the woman will be stripped and bound by the free women, switched liberally, for there is little love lost between free women and slaves, and then turned over to magistrates, to be returned to the mercies of her master. Little love is lost betwixt free women and slaves, in either direction. Little love is lost between the free woman and the slave. Little love is lost between free women and kajirae.
"He was first in the rings," said Lucullus. "We loved him." I think little love was lost between the iron-chain Kurii and the golden- or silver-chain Kurii. "She is Kur. She professes herself mine, and, indeed, from long ago, that she has long been smitten with helpless love for me, even, secretly, from the steel world of Agamemnon."
I dropped my head, acknowledging the bond he had acknowledged. My heart felt grateful to the stern, fierce warrior, though he had been in the past days harsh and strange, half drunk with hatred for Turia. I did not know if the Kamchak I had known would ever live again. I feared that part of him - perhaps that part I had loved best - had died the night of the raid, when he had entered the wagon of Kutaituchik. Little love was lost, I gathered, between Hci and Canka. "By the love you bear Canka," I said, "ride after him. Go out to meet him. Find him. Tell him what has occurred. I assure you he knows nothing of it. This was done now, indeed, I do not doubt, because he had left the camp." "There is no doubt about it," said the lieutenant. "He remembers him. He knows him." "He should," said the leader of the strangers. "He once, on a hunting expedition, saved Gito from brigands who were torturing him. He took him, half dead, burned, defaced, into his own house, showered him with gifts, improved his fortunes, treated him as a kinsman. He loved few and trusted few, as he loved and trusted Gito." Seremides grinned, stepped back, drew his blade, and set himself, easily, his body swaying a little, with the movement of the vessel. His galley scraped a little against ours. I saw no love for him across the rail. "We have spared the holding of Temmu," said Tyrtaios, "from the rain of burning arrows, because of our love for our wayward, misguided servitor, the glorious, honorable Temmu." It was easy to understand the reluctance of Yamada to destroy, or attempt to destroy, a fortress, castle, and holding as large and beautiful, and as nigh inaccessible and impregnable as that of Lord Temmu. It had remained secure and undefiled even in the darkest days of the war, even before trapped Pani had mysteriously vanished from a beach several pasangs to the north. "It is the word of my lord, and yours, Lord Yamada Shogun of the Islands," said Tyrtaios, "that peace, amity, harmony, and love, be between us, fully and forever." Little love was lost between Pertinax and Tajima. Whereas I had little love for the vain, smug, supercilious Sumomo, I certainly would have had no wish for her to be put to some prolonged, horrid death of the sort which might be contrived by Lord Yamada's torturers and executioners.
When Ute and I had been alone I had fallen before her, begging her forgiveness with tears for how I had treated her so long before. She had smiled, and lifted me to my feet. There had been tears in her eyes. "Hurry to your work, Slave," she had said. She had then kissed me. I sprang to my feet and ran to my work, overcome with affection for her. She had forgiven me! I loved her! Ute, only of the leather workers, was the kindest, most generous, most loving girl I had ever known. I was ravenously hungry. I had little doubt that Ute would have saved me a roll from the feeding pan. I loved her! She would also, however, have a full roster of work for me to perform this day. She played no favorites. I was one of her girls. She would treat me no differently than the others. I loved her! We kissed one another good-bye. "I love you, El-in-or," had said Inge. "I love you, too, Inge," I had wept. "I love you, El-in-or," had said Rena. "I, too, love you," I had said. "I wish you all well." "I love you, Judy," she said, suddenly. "I love you, too, Elicia," I said. I embraced her, holding her, her arms bound behind her. We kissed. "I wish you well," she said, "Slave." "I wish you well, too, Slave," I said. "That is good," I said. "Why is Thistle yoked?" "It pleased me, Master," said Thimble, first girl. There was little love lost between the girls. The females of the red savages, with their laughter and catcalls, in particular, would not have made the lovely slave's ordeal any easier. Too, that a given girl has been beaten, and has thus, presumably, failed to be fully pleasing in some way, makes her an object of contempt and ridicule among other girls. Little love is lost, commonly, between competitive slave girls. Girls commonly like seeing other girls being beaten, whom they think are too proud, or whom they don't like. It is almost a holiday in the slave quarters when a high slave is to be whipped, particularly if she is then to be reduced to the status of a common girl. Constanzia knelt before me, I kneeling, too. "It is he, Janice!" she said. "I am a slave! I am his slave! I am happy! I am so happy! I love you, Janice!" She bent toward me, joyfully. I took her in my arms and kissed her. "I am happy for you!" I said. "I love you, too!" He kept the folds of his hood drawn carefully about his face. No love was lost between herself and Tutina. She had hated Tutina from the first, even from the moment she had first seen her at the opera, so long ago, probably because she had seemed simple, stupid and so beautiful, but, more likely, as she was, in fact, neither simple nor stupid, because she was beautiful and was with the young man. Too, Tutina now held authority over her. Tutina wore the talmit, and was to her and, indeed, to several others, it seemed, "first girl." And that authority was exercised over her charges, and particularly over her, it seemed, with a malicious pleasure. She, as the others, had learned to fear her switch. As I had anticipated, Drusus Andronicus had not informed her of my contemptible indiscretion, my petty attempt to interest and ensnare him. Why should he have informed her? My master had been wrong. Paula knew nothing of what I had done. She would never learn. Things would be as before, save that I now cared for her a thousand times more than in the past. I had not lost my friend. I had found her. She would never learn what I had done. My heart flooded with relief, with gladness, with my love for her. Drusus Andronicus, doubtless in view of the innocuous nature, the prosaic sociality, of this meeting, had brought a slave with him, who knelt unobtrusively, to be sure, but a bit closer to him than I would have supposed customary, Paula. She smiled at me, from time to time. I loved her. How pleased I was that she knew nothing of my attempt to seduce Drusus Andronicus.
Little love is lost betwixt free women and slaves, in either direction. That would have been unwise on her part. No love was lost between her and the beauteous Lady Bina, but that was no excuse for an impropriety in this matter, however inadvertent or slight. I gathered that there was little love lost between the slave and the free woman.
I gathered that Hura, and her girls, proud panther women, were not popular among the men. Moreover, I gathered that they feared the men, as well as hated them. Little love or respect was lost between them. They were strange allies, the men of Tyros, the women of Hura. |       
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