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I
still could not understand.
I was frightened, because it had been the language, or rather like the
language, of my chief captor, and perhaps others of his group. On the other
hand, I was encouraged because it seemed to me then that these individuals, if
they spoke the same language, must possess the technological skills to return
me to my native world.
Yet it was hard to believe.
The men I now noted, held as I was, did not carry pistols and rifles, or even
small weapons, such as my captor had had, or the wands, or silver tubes, which
had been carried by the men from the silverish ship. Rather, to my surprise,
even amusement, they wore at their sides small swords. Two, over their backs,
had slung something like a bow, except that it had a handle, much like a
rifle.
Four of the others actually carried spears. The spears were large, with curved
bronze heads. They seemed heavy. I could not have thrown one.
The men, saving the one called Targo, wore tunics, with helmets. They looked
rather frightening. The opening in the helmets reminded me vaguely of a "Y".
The swords they carried in scabbards slung over their left shoulder. They wore
heavy sandals, laced with thick straps, more than a foot up their leg. Several
of them, besides the small swords, carried a knife as well, this attached to a
leather belt. They wore pouches also at the belt.
I was relieved that these men, apparently so primitive, could not be of the
same group as my former captors, with their sophisticated equipment. But I was
also apprehensive for, by the same token, surely men such as these did not
have the technological capabilities essential for flights between worlds.
These men, surely, could not, themselves, return me to Earth.
I had fallen in with them, however, and would have to make the best of it.
I was rescued, and that was the important thing. There were doubtless men on
this world who did possess the capabilities for space flight and I would make
inquiries and contact them. With my riches, I could pay well for my
transportation back to Earth. The important thing was that I was now safe,
that
I had been rescued.
I noted the wagon. It was also scarred in several places, as though it had
been struck with sharp objects. In places the wood was splintered. I wondered
where the draft animals, presumably oxen, were, who would draw the heavy
wagon. I
further noted that the boards of the wagon, besides being struck and
splintered
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in certain places, were, in other places, darkened, as though by smoke.
Further, looking more closely I could see that the paint on the wagon, which
was red, had cracked and blistered considerably. It was reasonably clear that
the wagon had been afire, or had come through a fire.
As I mentioned, over the wagon, its cover, of blue and yellow silk, was torn.
Further, as I could see now, it had been burned at the edges and was, in
another area, stained with smoke and rain. It then occurred to me that Targo
had seemed haggard, apprehensive, and that, although he seemed to be the sort
of man who might be vain about his appearance, judging from the earrings, the
sandals, the robe, the rings that he had not kept up his appearance. I did not
event think him the sort who would be likely to walk, but his sandals, with
the pearled straps, with certain of the pearls missing, were stained with
dust. I recalled, too, how apprehensive the men had been, when I had
approached them, how they had examined the hill, the fields about, as though
they feared I might not be alone.
Targo was running.
They had been attacked.
There were some objects in the wagon, some chests and boxes.
I looked to the girls near the front of the wagon, immeshed in the harness.
There were nineteen of them, ten on one side of the wagon tongue, and nine on
the other.
They were naked.
I looked at them, irritably, and stunned. They were incredibly beautiful. I
regarded myself as a fantastically beautiful woman, one among perhaps tens of
thousands. I had even modeled. But here, to my amazement, and fury, I saw that
at least eleven of these girls were unquestionably, clearly, more beautiful
than
I. On Earth I had never met a woman, personally, whom I had regarded as my
superior in beauty. Here, uncomprehensively, but obviously, there were at
least eleven.
I was puzzled how there could be so many in this one small place. I was
shaken.
But, I told myself, I am more than their equal in intelligence, and in riches,
and in taste, and sophistication. They were doubtless simple barbarians. I
felt pity for them. I hated them! I hated them! They looked on me as I had
looked on other women, on Earth, casually, unthreatened. They looked on me as
I had looked on plainer women, unimportant women, not to be taken account of,
not to be considered seriously as a rival, simply as my inferiors of beauty.
I could not remember ever having not been the most beautiful woman in any room
I
had entered. How I had relished the admiration of the men, the intake of their
breath, their pleasure, their furtive glances, the irritation of the other
women! And these women looked upon me, daring to, as I had upon those others.
They regarded me curiously, I could see, but more importantly, I had seen, to
my fury, that when I received their instantaneous appraisal, that which one
woman gives always to another when first they meet, as natural and unconscious
as a glance, that they had, at least to their own satisfaction, found
themselves superior to me! To Elinor Brinton! I had seen that if I was to
count with them I
would have to have qualities other than my beauty to comment me to them, as if
I
were a plain girl, who must cultivate other qualities, who must struggle to be
pleasing, rather than a beauty, whom others must strive to please! The haughty
bitches! I was superior to them all! I was more beautiful! I was more rich! I
hated them! I hated them!
But the important thing was that I was rescued, that I could soon buy my way
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