“Drusus Rencius is a renegade, Lady,” said Ligurious. “Do not fear. He
“Drusus Rencius is a renegade, Lady,” said Ligurious. “Do not fear. He now serves only himself and silver.” I inclined my head to Drusus Rencius. He was a dark-haired, tall, supple, lean, long-muscled, large-handed man. He had gray eyes. He had strong, regular features. In him I sensed a powerful intelligence. “Lady,” said he, bowing before me. He seemed quiet, and deferential. But there was within him, I did not doubt, that which was Gorean. He would know what to do with a woman. “He is to be your personal guard,” said Ligurious. “A bodyguard?” I inquired. “Yes, Lady,” said Ligurious. I looked at the tall, spare man. He carried a helmet in the crook of his left arm. It was polished but, clearly, it had seen war. The hilt of the sword in his scabbard, at his left hip, too, was worn. It was marked, too, with the stains of oil and sweat. His livery, too, though clean, was plain. It bore the insignia of Corcyrus and of his standing in the guards, that of the third rank, the first rank to which authority is delegated. His skills with the sword, I suppose, had been what had called him to the attention of Ligurious. These, perhaps, had seemed to qualify him for his new assignment. To be a proper guard for a Tatrix, however, surely involved more than being quick with a sword. There were matters of appearances to be considered. I felt a bit irritated with the fellow. I would put him in his place. “The guard for a Tatrix,” I said to Ligurious, “must be more resplendent.” “See to it,” said he to Drusus Rencius. “As you wish,” responded Drusus Rencius. Ligurious had then left. Drusus Rencius looked down at me. He seemed very large and strong. I felt very small and weak. “What is wrong?” I asked, angrily. “It is nothing,” he said. “What!” I demanded. “It is only that I had expected, from what I have heard, that Lady Sheila would be somewhat different than I find her.” “Oh?” I said. He continued to look at me. “In what way?” I asked. “I had expected Lady Sheila to seem more of a Tatrix,” he said, “whereas you seem to me to be something quite different.” “What?” I asked. “Forgive me, Lady,” he smiled. “If I answered you truthfully I would fear that I might be impaled.” “Speak,” I said. He smiled. “You may speak with impunity,” I said. “What is it that I seem to be to you?” “A female slave,” he said. “Oh!” I cried, in fury. “Does Lady Sheila often go unveiled?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “A Tatrix has no secrets from her people. It is good for her people to be able to look upon their Tatrix!” “As Lady Sheila wishes,” he said, bowing. “May I now withdraw?” “Yes!” I said. He had seen me without my veil. I felt almost naked before him, almost as though I might truly be a slave. “I shall be at your call,” he said. He then withdrew. -- source link