The High Castes
The Warriors
"I am of the Caste of Warriors, and it is in our codes that the only death fit for a man is that in battle…" — Priest-Kings of Gor, page 14.
The Fifth High Caste
The Gorean Warrior is placed fifth among the High Castes. The Caste of Warrior, whose color is scarlet, includes infantry, tharlarion cavalry, and tarnsmen. They have the strictest set of Caste Codes on Gor. Members of this Caste comprise the military branch of Gorean Government, up to an including a Ubar, although not the City Administrator (please refer to the Gorean government and politics pages for more information on this).
"We are going to the Chamber of the Council," he said. I followed him.
The Chamber of the Council is the room in which the elected representatives of the High Castes of Ko-ro-ba hold their meetings. Each city has such a chamber. It was in the widest of cylinders, and the ceiling was at least six times the height of the normal living level. The ceiling was lit as if by stars, and the walls were of five colors, applied laterally, beginning from the bottom — white, blue, yellow, green, and red, caste colors. Benches of stone, on which the members of the Council sat, rose in five monumental tiers about the walls, one tier for each of the High Castes. These tiers shared the color of that portion of the wall behind them, the caste colors.
The tier nearest the floor, which denoted some preferential status, the white tier, was occupied by Initiates, Interpreters of the Will of Priest-Kings. In order, the ascending tiers, blue, yellow, green, and red, were occupied by representatives of the Scribes, Builders, Physicians, and Warriors.
I was pleased to note that my own caste, that of the Warriors, was accorded the least status; if I had had my will, the warriors would not have been a High Caste. On the other hand, I objected to the Initiates being in the place of honor, as it seemed to me that they, even more than the Warriors, were nonproductive members of society. For the Warriors, at least, one could say that they afforded protection to the city. But for the Initiates one could say very little, perhaps only that they provided some comfort for ills and plagues largely of their own manufacture.
In the center of the amphitheater was a throne of office, and on this throne, in his robe of state — a plain brown garment, the humblest cloth in the hall — sat my father, Administrator of Ko-ro-ba, once Ubar, War Chieftain of the city. At his feet lay a helmet, shield, spear, and sword. — Tarnsman of Gor, pages 61-62.
The Making of a Warrior
Please note that Tarl Cabot is the rare case of one of modern Earth to not only be able to claim a Home Stone, but to be pledged into one of the High Castes, namely, the Warrior Caste. His purpose — and fate — was at the intervention of the Priest-Kings. Tarl may well be the Warrior of the myths (refer to the Myths and Legends page) that came to Gor to save the Priest-Kings.
"Come forward, Tarl Cabot," said my father, and I stood before his throne of office, feeling the eyes of everyone in the chamber on me. Behind me stood the Older Tarl. I had noted that those blue Viking eyes showed almost no evidence if the previous night. I hated him, briefly.
The Older Tarl was speaking. "I, Tarl, Swordsman of Ko-ro-ba, give my word that this man is fit to become a member of the High Caste of Warriors."
My father answered him, speaking in ritual phrases. "No tower in Ko-ro-ba is stronger than the word of Tarl, this Swordman of our city. I, Matthew Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, accept his word."
Then, beginning with the lowest tier, each member of the Council spoke in succession, giving his name and pronouncing that he, too, accepted the word of the blond swordsman. When they had finished, my father invested me with the arms which had lain before the throne. About my shoulder he slung the steel sword, fastened on my left arm the round shield, placed in my right hand the spear, and slowly lowered the helmet on my head.
"Will you keep the Code of the Warrior?" asked my father.
"Yes," I said, "I will keep the Code."
"What is your Home Stone?" asked my father.
Sensing what was wanted, I replied, "My Home Stone is the Home Stone of Ko-ro-ba."
"Is it to that city that you pledge your life, your honor, your sword?" asked my father.
"Yes," I said.
"Then," said my father, placing his hands solemnly on my shoulders, "in virtue of my authority as Administrator of this city and in the presence of the Council of High Castes, I declare you to be a Warrior of Ko-ro-ba."
My father was smiling. I removed my helmet, feeling proud as I heard the approval of the Council, both in voice and by Gorean applause, the quick, repeated striking of the left shoulder with the palm of the right hand. Aside from candidates for the status of Warrior, none of my caste was permitted to enter the Council armed. Had they been armed, my caste brothers would have struck their spear blades on their shields. As it was, they smote their shoulders in the civilian manner, more exuberantly perhaps than was compatible with the decorum of that weighty chamber. Somehow I had the feeling they were genuinely proud of me, though I had no idea why. I had surely done nothing to warrant their commendation. — Tarnsman of Gor, pages 62-63."Flee!" she said.
"I am of the Warriors," I said.
"But you may die," she said.
"That is acknowledged in the codes," I said.
"What are the codes?" she asked.
"They are nothing, and everything," I said. "They are a bit of noise, and the steel of the heart. They are meaningless, and all significant. They are the difference. Without the codes men would be Kurii."
"Kurii?" she asked.
"Beasts, such as ice beasts, and worse," I said. "Beasts such as the face you saw in the sky." — Beasts of Gor, page 340."What is it to be a warrior?" she asked.
"It is to keep the codes," I said. "You may think that to be a warrior is to be large, or strong, and to be skilled with weapons, to have a blade at your hip, to know the grasp of the spear, to wear the scarlet, to know the fitting of the iron helm upon one's countenance, but these things are not truly needful; they are not, truly, what makes one man a warrior and another not. Many men are strong, and large, and skilled with weapons. Any man might, if he dared, don the scarlet and gird himself with weapons. Any man might place upon his brow the helm of iron. But it is not the scarlet, not the steel, not the helm of iron which makes the warrior."
She looked up at me.
"It is the codes," I said. — Beasts of Gor, page 340.
Caste Membership and Occupations
Gorean caste lines largely follow birth and occupation, though not always. Those born of a mixed-caste companionship, retain the caste of their father.
So, now we have an argument — proof of women being in the Warrior Caste!
Step off the glow of thinking you have one-up on the men who say women cannot be Warriors.
Both are correct.
Women can and are of the Warrior Caste. However, such does not make them Warriors. There is a difference.
Birth right into a caste does not preclude that person of being permitted to practice the caste craft. Additionally — roleplayers take note — just because a woman is a specific caste does not mean she was allowed to practice certain things within the craft. For example, a woman of the Metal Workers would not be permitted to work iron, but might be permitted to pain the iron, transport and market it. Women of the Physicians caste are not permitted to full practice until they have borne two children.
It can be safely assumed that women were not allowed to practice the craft of the Warriors. Too, perhaps because of the woman's inability to perform caste craft, Gorean law may preclude she be lowered in caste. There is no evidence in the books of this predicament arising. There is, however, a quote from Mercenaries which quite matter-of-factly puts to rest that women of the Warrior Caste are … neither warrior, nor allowed to bear arms as a warrior, nor wear insignia of a warrior.
Some cite the woman in the Tahari as an example of a woman in the Caste of Warriors. That is in error and a self-serving judgment. However, the tribes of the Tahari do not follow the caste system. If one does not follow the caste system, then there is no caste. Castes are cultural and there simply are those cultures within Gor that have neither a caste nor a clan sociological system.
"Caste, commonly, though not invariably, is a matter of birth. One may, too, be received into a caste by investment. Normally mating takes place among caste members, but if the mating is of mixed caste, the woman may elect to retain caste, which is commonly done, or be received into the caste of the male companion. Caste membership of the children born of such a union is a function of the caste of the father. Similar considerations, in certain cities, hold of citizenship. " — Slave Girl of Gor, page 213.
"The caste structure," said my father patiently, with perhaps the trace of a smile on his face, "is relatively immobile, but not frozen, and depends on more than birth. For example, if a child in his schooling shows that he can raise caste, as the expression is, he is permitted to do so. But similarly, if a child does not show the aptitude expected of his caste, whether it be, say, that of a physician or warrior, he is lowered in caste." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 42.
"The women of a given caste, it should he noted, often do not engage in caste work. For example, a woman in the Metalworker does not, commonly, work at the forgot nor is a woman of the Builders likely to be found supervising the construction of fortifications. Caste membership, for Goreans, is generally a simple matter of birth, it is not connected necessarily with the performance of certain skills, nor the attainment of given level of proficiency in such skills. To be sure, certain skills tend to be associated traditionally with certain castes, a fact which is clearly indicated in caste titles, such as the Leatherworkers, the Metalworkers, the Singers, and the Peasants. A notable exception to the generalization that women of a given caste normally do not engage in caste work is the caste of Physicians, whose women are commonly trained, as are the boys, in the practice of medicine. Even the Physicians, however, normally do not admit their women to full Practice until they have borne two children." — Fighting Slave of Gor, pages 209-210.
"It is said on Gor that only slaves, Outlaws and Priest-Kings, rumored to be the rulers of Gor, reputed to live in the remote Sardar Mountains, are without caste. This saying, however, it might be pointed out, as Gorean recognize, is not strictly true. For example, some individuals have lost caste, or been deprived of caste; some individuals have been born outside of castes; certain occupations are not traditionally associated with caste, such as gardening, domestic service and herding, and, indeed, there are, entire cultures and peoples on Gor to whom caste is unknown. Similarly, caste lines tend sometimes to be vague, and the relation between castes and sub castes. Slavers, for example, sometimes think of themselves as being of the Merchants, and sometimes as being a separate caste. They do have their own colors, blue and yellow, those of the Merchants being white and gold. Too, are the bargemen of the Southern Cartius a caste or not? They think of themselves as such, but many do not see the matter in the same light." — Fighting Slave of Gor, pages 210-211.
"For one thing she was not of the warriors and was thus not entitled to this badge of station; indeed, her wearing it, as she was a mere female, would be a joke to outsiders and an embarrassment to the men; it would belittle its significance for them, making it shameful and meaningless. The insignia of men, like male garments, become empty mockeries when permitted to women. This type of thing leads eventually both to the demasculinization of men and the defeminization of females, a perversion of nature disapproved of generally, correctly or incorrectly, by Goreans." — Mercenaries of Gor, page 56.
The Training of a Warrior
The training of a Warrior is a long, exhaustive process that begins when he is a child, and continues for the rest of his life. It is something taken seriously by the Warrior; his life, that of his family, his Home Stone, depends on his training, his ability to face the battles.
"Warriors often train with weighted shields; to lift such a device in battle, receive blow after blow upon it, bearing up under them, makes the arm desperately sore and tired. In the early Ahn of a battle, the most common cause of casualties is the simply inability to lift, control and maneuver the shield. There is a great temptation to lower it, to ease the pain of the screaming muscles. — Renegades of Gor, page 331.
The War Schools
Within the high cities of Gor are those schools of war, which provide training for the warrior as well. These schools, naturally, contain an extensive library containing histories of famous battles, war strategies, et al. One such writing, a collection of anonymous analyses, or field diaries upon the battlefield, is known as The Diaries.
"His campaigns were studied in all the war schools of the high cities. I knew him from scrolls I had studied years ago in Ko-ro-ba, and from volumes in my library in Port Kar, such as the commentaries of Minicius and the anonymous analyses of 'The Diaries,' sometimes attributed to the military historian, Carl Commenius, of Argentum, rumored to have once been a mercenary himself." — Mercenaries of Gor, pages 31-32.
"You pretend to simplicity," I said. "Yet you quote from the Diaries." These were the field diaries attributed by many to Carl Commenius, of Argentum. The reference would be clear to Marcus, a trained warrior. — Magicians of Gor, page 188.
Honor and the Warrior
Honor. Something that all free Goreans demand and respect, but this is especially true of the Warrior, and much of that honor is gained through the victory of battles and wars… not to mention the exhileration it brings to the heart and soul of the warrior. The code of honor among warriors is known as the 97th Aphorism.
"I recalled, too, the games of war. They, too, in their awesomeness, must not be forgotten. Why is it that some men seek wars, traveling to the ends of the earth to find them? It is because they have a taste for such things. It is because there, where others fear to tread, they find themselves most alive. He who has been on the field of battle knows the misery, the terror, the tenseness, the racing of the blood, the pounding of the heart, the exhilaration, the meaningfulness. In what other arena, and for what lesser stakes, can so much of man be summoned forth, man with his brutality, his cruelty, his mercilessness, his ruthlessness, his terribleness, these ancient virtues, and man with his devotion, his comraderie, his fellowship, his courage, his discipline, his glory? In what other endeavor is man, in his frailty and strength, in his terribleness and nobility, so fully manifested? What is the meaning of war to the warrior? Sure it is not merely to be found in the beholding of flaming cities and the treading of bloody fields. Surely it is not merely to be found in silver plate and golden vessels, nor even in women lying naked in their chains, huddled together, trembling, in the mud, knowing that they are now properties and must please. It is rather, I think, primarily, the contest, and that for which all is risked, victory." — Magicians of Gor, pages 131-132.
"Honor," I said, "has many voices, and many songs."
He looked down at me, startled. "That is a saying of warriors," he said. "It is from the codes. It is a long time since I have heard it. I had almost forgotten it. Where did you, a slave, hear it?" — Witness of Gor, page 711."The 97th Aphorism in the Codes I was taught," I said, "is in the form of a riddle: "What is invisible but more beautiful than diamonds?"
"And the answer?" inquired Labienus.
"That which is silent but deafens thunder."
The men regarded one another.
"And what is that?" asked Labienus.
"The same," said I, "as that which depresses no scale but is weightier than gold."
"And what is that?" asked Labienus.
"Honor," I said.
"He is of the Warriors," said a man. — Vagabonds of Gor, pages 305-306.
On Suicide and the Warrior
Quite simply, it's not done. A warrior neither ends his own life by suicide, nor aids another in suicide. To a warrior, the only honorable death is in battle. It has been seen in virtual chat rooms where a warrior will commit suicide, or help a sword brother in doing such. That is simply NOT the Gorean way; it goes against the Caste Codes.
"The warrior does not kill himself or aid others in the doing of it. It is not in the codes." — Vagabonds of Gor, page 446.
"I am of the Caste of Warriors, and it is in our codes that the only death fit for a man is that in battle…" — Priest-Kings of Gor, page 14.
"The warrior does not kill himself or aid others in the doing of it. It is not in the codes." — Vagabonds of Gor, page 446.
Friend or Foe
Although it is said universally on Gor that the word for stranger is the same word for enemy, determining who is truly foe or friend is often left to the warrior. However, the warrior is not one to waste breath on words.
"… the first thing a Gorean warrior is likely to do to the stranger in his tent is kill him, the second is to find out who he is." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 167.
Sword Brothers
Amongst those of the Warriors, there is a comraderie, a brotherhood, amongst those in which blood has been shed by another of the caste, known as being a sword brother.
"Do not harm him," said Kazrak. "He is my sword brother, Tarl of Bristol." Kazrak's remark was in accord with the strange warrior codes of Gor, codes which were as natural to him as the air he breathed, and codes which I, in the Chamber of the Council of Ko-ro-ba, had sworn to uphold. One who has shed your blood, or whose blood you have shed, becomes your sword brother, unless you formally repudiate the blood on your weapons. It is part of the kinship of Gorean warriors regardless of what city it is to which they owe their allegiance. It is a matter of caste, an expression of respect for those who share their station and profession, having nothing to do with cities or Home Stones. — Tarnsman of Gor, page 119.
Sword-Right; the Kajira Canjellne
It is true that Warriors fight in wars, in battles, between cities and strongholds and geographical zones for those things political. However, one of the major reasons a warrior fights… is for that of the slave girl. Slave challenge, or canjellne, follows the strict rules of the codes, the challenger deferring the weapon of choice to the challenged. When a slave girl is thusly won, she is considered owned by sword right.
"I like this girl," said the warrior. "Yield her to me!"
"No," I said.
"Yield her or I will have my tharlarion trample you," he snapped, "or would you prefer to be spitted on my lance?"
"You know the codes," I said evenly. "If you want her, you must challenge for her and meet me with the weapon of my choice."
The warrior's face clouded, but only for an instant. He threw back his fine head and laughed, his teeth white in his bushy beard. "Done!" he cried, fastening his lance in its saddle sheath and slipping from the back of the tharlarion. "I challenge you for her!"
"The sword," I said.
"Agreed," he said. — Tarnsman of Gor, page 117."Tarl of Bristol," I said. "And this is my woman, whom I claim by sword-right." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 120.
He pointed to me. He spoke. The bearded man again spoke harshly, waving his arm, ordering the newcomer away. The newcomer laughed. The bearded man said something, gesturing to me. The tone of his voice was disparaging. I felt angry. The newcomer looked more closely at me. He spoke to me, calling across the grass. The word he spoke I had heard before. The other man had said it to me after I had been beaten, when he had prodded me with the spear, before I had again knelt, though then struck and beaten, before the men, shortly before the dagger had been put to my throat. Tossing my head I knelt, the chain dangling from my collar before my body, to the grass. I knelt back on my heels, my back very straight, my hands on my thighs, my head high, looking straight ahead. I thrust my shoulders back, my breasts forward. I did not neglect the placement of my knees; I opened them as widely as I could, as I knew the men wanted. I knelt before them again in that most elegant and helpless position in which men may place a woman, that position I was later to learn was that of the Gorean pleasure slave.
The newcomer now spoke decisively. The bearded man and the other retorted angrily. The newcomer, as I saw out of the corner of my eye, was pointing to me. He was grinning. I trembled and shuddered. He was demanding me! He was telling them to give me to him! The bold beast! How I hated him, and how pleased I was! The men laughed. I was frightened. They were two, and he one! He should flee! He should run for his life! I knelt, chained.
"Kajira canjellne!" said the newcomer. Though he indicated me peremptorily with his spear, it was at the two other men that he looked. He did not now take his eyes from them.
The bearded man looked angry. "Kajira canjellne," he acknowledged. "Kajira canjellne," said the other man, too, soberly.
The newcomer then moved back a few paces. He crouched down. He picked up a stalk of grass, and began to chew on it.
The bearded man approached me. From within his tunic he drew forth two lengths of slender, braided black leather, each about eighteen inches long. He crouched behind me. He jerked my wrists behind my back, crossed them, and bound them, tightly. He then crossed my ankles, and, too, bound them, tightly as well. I could feel the braided leather, deep in my wrists and ankles. I winced, helpless. Then, holding me by the hair with his left hand, from behind, I felt a heavy key, which he must have removed from his tunic, thrust deeply into the large collar lock, below my left ear. The heavy collar, with its lock, pushed into the left side of my neck. The key turned. I heard the bolt click back. It made a heavy sound. It must have been a thick, heavy bolt. He dropped the key to the grass and, with both hands, jerking it, opened the collar. He dropped it, with the depending chain, to the grass. I was freed of the collar! I looked at the collar. It was the first time I had seen it. As I had surmised, it matched the chain. It was heavy, circular, of black iron, hinged, efficient, practical, frightening. It bore a staple and stout loop. One link of the chain was fastened about the loop. The loop was circular, and about two and one half inches in width.
I was free of the collar! But I was bound helplessly. I pulled futilely at my bonds. The bearded man lifted me lightly in his arms. My weight was as if nothing to him. He faced the stranger, who still crouched a few yards away.
"Kajira canjellne?" asked the bearded man. It was as though he were giving the stranger an opportunity to withdraw. Perhaps a mistake had been made. Perhaps there had been a misunderstanding?
The stranger, crouching in the grass, his shield beside him, the butt of the spear in the grass, the weapon upright, its point against the sky, nodded. There had been no mistake. "Kajira canjellne," he said, simply.
The other man angrily went to a place in the grass, to one side. There, angrily, with the blade of his spear, he traced and dug a circle in the earth. It was some ten feet in diameter. The bearded man then threw me over his shoulder, and carried me to the circle. I was hurled to its center. I lay on my side, bound. The men spoke together, as though clarifying arrangements. They did not speak long. I struggled to my knees. I knelt in the circle.
The stranger, now, stood. He donned his helmet. He slipped his shield on his arm, adjusting straps. He slid the short blade at his left hip some inches from the sheath, and slipped it back in, lifting and dropping it in the sheath. It was loose. He took his spear in his right hand. It had a long, heavy shaft, some two inches in width, some seven feet in length; the head of the weapon, including its socket and penetrating rivets, was some twenty inches in length; the killing edges of the blade began about two inches from the bottom of the socket, which reinforced the blade, tapering with the blade, double-edged, to within eight inches of its point; the blade was bronze; it was broad at the bottom, tapering to its point; given the stoutness of the weapon, the lesser gravity of this world, and the strength of the man who wielded it, I suspected it would have considerable penetrating power; I doubted that the shields they carried, though stout, could turn its full stroke, if taken frontally; I had little doubt such a weapon might thrust a quarter of its length through the body of a man, and perhaps half its length or more through the slighter, softer body of a mere girl; I looked upon the spear; it was so mighty; I feared it.
The two men who were my captors conferred briefly among themselves. He who was not the bearded man then stepped forward, his shield on his arm, his spear in hand. He stood separated from the stranger by some forty feet. I observed them. They stood, not moving, each clad in scarlet, each helmeted, each similarly armed. They stood in the grass. Neither looked at me. I was forgotten. I knelt in the circle. I tried to free myself. I could not. I knelt in the circle. The wind moved the grass. The clouds shifted in the blue sky. For a long time, neither man moved. Then, suddenly, the stranger, laughing, lifted his spear and struck its butt into the ground. "Kajira canjellne!" he laughed.
I could not believe it. He seemed elated. He was pleased with the prospect of war. How terrible he was! How proud, how magnificent he seemed! I thought I knew then, with horror, the nature of men.
"Kajira canjellne!" said the other man.
Warily they began to circle one another. I waited, kneeling, frightened, nude and bound, in the circle. I watched the men warily circling one another. I pulled at my bonds. I was helpless. Suddenly, as though by common accord, each crying out, each uttering a savage cry, they hurled themselves at one another. It was the ritual of the spear casting.
The spear of him who was one of my captors seemed to leap upward and away, caroming from the oblique, lifted surface of the stranger's shield. The spear, caroming from the shield, flew more than a hundred feet away, dropping in the grass, where it stood fixed, remote and useless, the butt of its shaft pointing to the sky. The stranger's spear had penetrated the shield of he who was one of my captors, and the stranger, bracing the shaft between his arm and body, had lifted his opponent's shield and turned, throwing it and his opponent, who had not the time to slip from the shield straps, to the ground at his feet. The stranger's blade, now, loosed from its sheath, under the opponent's helmet, lay at his throat.
But the stranger did not strike. He severed the shield straps of the opponent's shield, freeing his arm from them. He stepped back. He cast his own shield aside, into the grass. He stood waiting, blade drawn. The other man got his legs under him and leaped to his feet. He was enraged. The blade in his sheath leaped forth. He charged the other, the stranger, and swiftly did the two engage. I knelt terrified. I shuddered with horror. They were not human, as I understood human beings. They were warriors and beasts. I cried out with fear. I had always had a fear of steel blades, even knives. Now I knelt bound and nude, helpless, utterly exposed and vulnerable, in the vicinity of fierce men, skilled and strong, who with intent and menace, with edged, bared steel, addressed themselves to the savageries of war. They fought. I watched, wide-eyed, bound. Furious, sharp, was the precision of their combat. They were not feet from me. I moaned. Backward and forward, swiftly, did they move in their grim contest.
I wondered at what manner of men they might be, surely like none I had hitherto known. Why did they not flee in terror from such blades? Why did they not flee? But they met one another, and did battle. How I feared, and still fear, such men! How could a woman but kneel trembling before such a man?
One man wheeled back, grunting, turning, and fell to his knees in the grass, and then fell, turning, to his side, lying upon his shoulder, doubled, hunched in pain, bleeding, his hands at his belly, his blade lost in the grass. The stranger stepped back from him, his blade bloody. He stood regarding the other man, the bearded man. The bearded man lifted his shield and raised his spear. "Kajira canjellne!" he said.
"Kajira canjellne," said the stranger. He went to extricate his spear from the penetrated shield of the man with whom, but moments before, he had shared the sport of war. The fallen foe lay doubled in the grass; his lower lip was bloody; he tore it with his teeth, holding it, that, in his pain, he might make no sound. His hands were clutched in the scarlet of his wet tunic, bunching it, at the hall-severed belt. The grass was bloody about him. The stranger bent to lift the penetrated shield, that he might remove from it his bronze-headed weapon. In that instant the bearded man, crying out savagely, rushed upon him, his spear raised.
Before I could respond in horror or my body move the stranger had reacted, rolling to the side and, in an instant, regaining his feet, assuming an on-guard position. As my cry of misery escaped my lips the thrust of the bearded man's spear had passed to the left of the stranger's helmet. The stranger had not remained at the vicinity of the shield with its penetrating spear, but had abandoned it. For the first time now the stranger did not seem pleased. The bearded man's spear had thrust into the grass. Its head and a foot of its shaft had been driven into the turf. He faced the stranger now, sword drawn. The instant he had missed the thrust he had left the weapon, spinning and unsheathing his sword. The bearded man was white-faced. But the stranger had not rushed upon him. He waited, in the on-guard position. He gestured with his blade, indicating that now they might do battle.
With a cry of rage the bearded man rushed upon him, thrusting with his shield, his sword flat and low. The stranger was not there. Twice more the bearded man charged, and each time the stranger seemed not to be at the point of in-tended impact. The fourth time the stranger was behind him and on his left. The stranger's sword was at his left armpit. The bearded man stood very still, white-faced. The stranger's sword moved. The stranger stepped back. The bearded man's shield slipped from his arm. The straps which had held the shield to his upper arm had been severed. The shield fell on its edge to the grass, and then tipped and rocked, then was still, large, rounded, concave inner surface tilted, facing the sky. I could see the severed straps.
The two men faced one another. Then did they engage.
I then realized, as I had not before, the skill of the stranger. Earlier he had matched himself, for a time, evenly with the first opponent. In a swift, though measured fashion, he had exercised himself, sharply and well, respecting his foe, not permitting the foe to understand his full power with the blade, the devastating and subtle skill which now seemed to lend terrible flight to the rapid steel. I saw the wounded man, now on an elbow, watching, with horror. He had not even been slain. Lying in the bloodied grass, he realized he had been permitted to live. It was with humiliating skill that the stranger toyed with the stumbling, white-faced bearded man, he who had, minutes before, been preparing to cut my throat. Bound, kneeling in the circle, it was with sudden, frightening elation that I realized the stranger was the master of the other two. Four times was he within the other's guard, his blade at breast or throat, and did not finish him. He moved the bearded man into a position where his fallen, discarded shield lay behind him. With a cry he forced back the bearded man, who fell, stumbling in the shield, backward, and then lay on the grass before the stranger, the stranger's blade at his throat. The stranger, in contempt, then stepped back. The bearded man scrambled to his feet. The stranger stood back, in the on-guard position.
The bearded man took his blade and hurled it into the grass. It sank to the hilt. He stood regarding the stranger. The stranger slipped his own blade back in the sheath. The bearded man loosened his dagger belt, dropping the belt and weapon to the grass. Then he walked, slowly, to his fellow, and similarly removed his dagger belt. The man held his bloodied tunic to his wound, to stanch the flow of blood. The bearded man lifted the other man to his feet, and, together, the bearded man supporting the other, they left the field.
The stranger stood watching them go. He watched them until, they disappeared in the distance. He removed his spear from the shield which it had penetrated. He thrust it, upright, butt down, in the turf. It was like a standard. He sat his shield by it. Then he turned to face me. I knelt within the wide circle, torn by the blade of a spear in the turf. I was naked. I was bound helplessly. It was an alien world. He began to approach me, slowly. I was terrified. Then he stood before me. — Slave Girl of Gor, pages 20-26.Then the stranger had arrived. "Kajira canjellne!" he had said. I had been released of the chain and collar. A circle had been drawn in the turf. Bound, I had been thrown to it. Kneeling, I had watched men fight. I now, naked and bound, carrying his shield, followed him who had been victorious. — Slave Girl of Gor, page 31.
Caste Codes
Each caste has a set of ethical teachings, or Caste Codes, which constitute, in simplicity, a list of rules of conduct to which all caste members are held. Some of these teachings are in the form of sayings, profound or otherwise; some mere riddles. Though not stated as laws, in the Gorean world most of what is ethically correct is also legally correct. Naturally there would be those predicaments where the discussion of ethical and legal are quite diverse, as in the case (third quote) of the rape of two slave women. Often, caste codes have more to do with a man's personal honor and integrity. In simpler terms, each set of codes of a caste determine a behavior with a particular interest the specialty of its caste members.
"The Code of the Warrior was, in general, characterized by a rudimentary chivalry, emphasizing loyalty to the Pride Chiefs and the Home Stone. It was harsh, but with a certain gallantry, a sense of humor that I could respect. A man could do worse than live by such a code." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 41.
There are, of course, instances where a warrior is so consumed by his codes, that he becomes quite the megalomanic — as in the instance of Marlenus.
"I was once as young and brave as you," he said, "and perhaps as foolish - yes, perhaps as foolish." The eyes of Marlenus stared over my head, into the darkness outside. "I risked my life a thousand times and gave the years of my youth to the vision of Ar and its empire, that there might be on all Gor but one language, but one commerce, but one set of codes, that the highways and passes might be safe, that the peasants might cultivate their fields in peace, that there might be but one Council to decide matters of policy, that there might be but one supreme city to unite the cylinders of a hundred severed, hostile cities - and all this you have destroyed." Marlenus looked down at me. "What can you, a simple tarnsman, know of these things?" he asked. "But I, Marlenus, though a warrior, was more than a warrior, always more than a warrior. Where others could see no more than the codes of their castes, where others could sense no call of duty beyond that of their Home Stone, I dared to dream the dream of Ar - that there might be an end to meaningless warfare, bloodshed, and terror, an end to the anxiety and peril, the retribution and cruelty that cloud our lives - I dreamed that there might arise from the ashes of the conquests of Ar a new world, a world of honor and law, of power and justice." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 155.
Specific Codes Mentioned
Following are various subjects within the warrior codes that have been mentioned in the books.
• 97th Aphorism
The code of honor among warriors.
"What is the 97th Aphorism in the Codes?" inquired Labienus.
"My scrolls may not be those of Ar," I said. To be sure, the scrolls should be, at least among the high cities, in virtue of conventions held at the Sardar Fairs, particularly the Fair of En'Kara, much in agreement.
"Will you speak?" asked Labienus.
"Remove the female," I said.
"He is a Warrior," said one of the men.
One of the men lifted the bound Ina in his arms, one hand behind the back of her knees, and the other behind her back, and carried her from where we were gathered. In a few moments he returned.
"The female is now out of earshot?" inquired Labienus, staring ahead.
"Yes," said the fellow, "and she will stay where I left her, on her back, as I tied her hair about the base of a stout shrub."
"The 97th Aphorism in the Codes I was taught," I said, "is in the form of a riddle: "What is invisible but more beautiful than diamonds?"
"And the answer?" inquired Labienus.
"That which is silent but deafens thunder."
The men regarded one another.
"And what is that?" asked Labienus.
"The same," said I, "as that which depresses no scale but is weightier than gold."
"And what is that?" asked Labienus.
"Honor," I said. — Vagabonds of Gor, pages 305-306.
• Challenge of Battle
"You have lifted a weapon against me," he said. "My codes permit me to kill you." — Outlaw of Gor, page 14.
"You have drawn a weapon against me," I said.
"You are of the warriors?" said the fellow. He wavered. He, too, knew the codes. — Magicians of Gor, page 129.
• Death
"I am of the Caste of Warriors, and it is in our codes that the only death fit for a man is that in battle, but I can no longer believe that this is true, for the man I met once on the road to Ko-ro-ba died well, and taught me that all wisdom and truth does not lie in my own codes." — Priest-Kings of Gor, page 14.
• Each Man a Ubar
"Within the circle of each man's sword," say the codes of the warrior, "therein is each man a Ubar." — Marauders of Gor, page 10.
• Flags
"Even warriors long sometimes for the sight of their own flags, atop friendly walls, for the courtyards of their keeps, for the hearths of their halls. Thus admit the Codes." — Blood Brothers of Gor, page 306.
• Honor
"Honor," I said, "has many voices, and many songs."
He looked down at me, startled. "That is a saying of warriors," he said. "It is from the codes. It is a long time since I have heard it. I had almost forgotten it. Where did you, a slave, hear it?" — Witness of Gor, page 711.
• The Making of a Warrior
"Flee!" she said.
"I am of the Warriors," I said.
"But you may die," she said.
"That is acknowledged in the codes," I said.
"What are the codes?" she asked.
"They are nothing, and everything," I said. "They are a bit of noise, and the steel of the heart. They are meaningless, and all significant. They are the difference. Without the codes men would be Kurii."
"Kurii?" she asked.
"Beasts, such as ice beasts, and worse," I said. "Beasts such as the face you saw in the sky." — Beasts of Gor, page 340."What is it to be a warrior?" she asked.
"It is to keep the codes," I said. "You may think that to be a warrior is to be large, or strong, and to be skilled with weapons, to have a blade at your hip, to know the grasp of the spear, to wear the scarlet, to know the fitting of the iron helm upon one's countenance, but these things are not truly needful; they are not, truly, what makes one man a warrior and another not. Many men are strong, and large, and skilled with weapons. Any man might, if he dared, don the scarlet and gird himself with weapons. Any man might place upon his brow the helm of iron. But it is not the scarlet, not the steel, not the helm of iron which makes the warrior."
She looked up at me.
"It is the codes," I said. — Beasts of Gor, page 340.
• Manhood
He who cannot think is not a man, so saith the codes. Yet neither, too, they continue, is he who can only think. — Vagabonds of Gor, page 65.
• On a Warrior's Life Threatened by a Female
In the codes of the Warrior — and the codes of all of Gor — a free man whose life was threatened by a female, has the right to slay such woman.
"I order you to protect me," she said, never taking her eyes from the ground.
"I do not take orders from the daughter of the Ubar of Ar," I said.
"You must take me with you," she said, eyes still downcast.
"Why?" I asked. After all, according to the rude codes of Gor, I owed her nothing; indeed, considering her attempt on my life, which had been foiled only by the fortuitous net of Nar's web, I would have been within my rights to slay her, abandoning her body to the water lizards. Naturally, I was not looking at things from precisely the Gorean point of view, but she would have no way of knowing that. How could she know that I would not treat her as — according to the rough justice of Gor — she deserved? — Tarnsman of Gor, page 92.
• Pledge of a Warrior
"Come forward, Tarl Cabot," said my father, and I stood before his throne of office, feeling the eyes of everyone in the chamber on me. Behind me stood the Older Tarl. I had noted that those blue Viking eyes showed almost no evidence if the previous night. I hated him, briefly.
The Older Tarl was speaking. "I, Tarl, Swordsman of Ko-ro-ba, give my word that this man is fit to become a member of the High Caste of Warriors."
My father answered him, speaking in ritual phrases. "No tower in Ko-ro-ba is stronger than the word of Tarl, this Swordman of our city. I, Matthew Cabot of Ko-ro-ba, accept his word."
Then, beginning with the lowest tier, each member of the Council spoke in succession, giving his name and pronouncing that he, too, accepted the word of the blond swordsman. When they had finished, my father invested me with the arms which had lain before the throne. About my shoulder he slung the steel sword, fastened on my left arm the round shield, placed in my right hand the spear, and slowly lowered the helmet on my head.
"Will you keep the Code of the Warrior?" asked my father.
"Yes," I said, "I will keep the Code."
"What is your Home Stone?" asked my father.
Sensing what was wanted, I replied, "My Home Stone is the Home Stone of Ko-ro-ba."
"Is it to that city that you pledge your life, your honor, your sword?" asked my father.
"Yes," I said.
"Then," said my father, placing his hands solemnly on my shoulders, "in virtue of my authority as Administrator of this city and in the presence of the Council of High Castes, I declare you to be a Warrior of Ko-ro-ba."
My father was smiling. I removed my helmet, feeling proud as I heard the approval of the Council, both in voice and by Gorean applause, the quick, repeated striking of the left shoulder with the palm of the right hand. Aside from candidates for the status of Warrior, none of my caste was permitted to enter the Council armed. Had they been armed, my caste brothers would have struck their spear blades on their shields. As it was, they smote their shoulders in the civilian manner, more exuberantly perhaps than was compatible with the decorum of that weighty chamber. Somehow I had the feeling they were genuinely proud of me, though I had no idea why. I had surely done nothing to warrant their commendation. — Tarnsman of Gor, pages 62-63."I come on behalf of Lara, who is true Tatrix of Tharna. Sheathe your weapons. No more shed the blood of men of your own city. I ask this in the name of Lara, and of the city of Tharna and its people. And I ask it in the name of the codes of your own caste, for your swords are pledged to the true Tatrix — Lara — not Dorna the Proud!" — Outlaw of Gor, page 231.
"I wondered how it was that Thorn had given his life for this woman. It did not seem it could have been a matter of caste obligation for this obligation had been owed not to Dorna but to Lara. He had broken the codes of his caste to support the treachery of Dorna the Proud." — Outlaw of Gor, page 242.
• Poison
"Poison, I think," said he, "perhaps a subtle toxin, coated on a blade, thus entered into a wound."
"Such is contrary to the codes," I said.
"Poisoned steel," he said.
I said nothing.
"Sullius Maximus," he said, "is in Tyros."
"I would not have thought Sarus of Tyros would have used poisoned steel," I said. Such a device, like the poisoned arrow, was not only against the codes of the warriors, but, generally, was regarded as unworthy of men. Poison was regarded as a woman's weapon. — Marauders of Gor, page 18.
• Quarter (Granting)
"You must learn," Torm had said matter-of-factly, "the history and legends of Gor, its geography and economics, its social structures and customs, such as the caste system and clan groups, the right of placing the Home Stone, the Places of Sanctuary, when quarter is and is not permitted in war, and so on." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 37.
This was the Kur I had come to think of as the eighth Kur. It had been apparently separated from its companions at the time of the massacre of the wagon train and the fight between the soldiers and the savages. I had met it once before, when it had returned to the field to feed. It was that Kur which had been threatening the Waniyanpi, and whose attack I had frustrated. As we had not been similarly armed, it alone, afoot, and I with Grunt, he with an armed crossbow, and as it had not rushed upon me, I had not contested its withdrawal from the field. Such had seemed in accordance with codes to which I had once subscribed, codes which I had never forgotten" — Blood Brothers of Gor, page 459.
• Strength and a Warrior's Limits
In the codes of the warriors, there is a saying: "Be strong, and do as you will. The swords of others will set you your limits." — Marauders of Gor, page 10.
• Submission of a Free Woman
In the codes of the Warrior, the submission of a free female specifies that should a free woman submit to him, he must either accept her as a slave, or slay her. However, accepting her as a slave, does not mean the warrior must accept her for himself; he is within his rights to turn her over to a slaver. Please refer to the free women and slave pages which deal more specifically on this subject.
"I can force you to take me," she said.
"How?" I asked.
"Like this," she responded, kneeling before me, lowering her head and lifting her arms, the wrists crossed. She laughed. "Now you must take me with you or slay me," she said, "and I know that you cannot slay me."
I cursed her, for she took unfair advantage of the Warrior Codes of Gor.
"What is the submission of Talena, the daughter of the Ubar, worth?" I taunted.
"Nothing," she said. "But you must accept it or slay me."
Furious beyond reason, I saw in the grass the discarded slave bracelets, the hood and leading chains.
To Talena's indignation, I snapped the slave bracelets on her wrists, hooded her, and put her on a leading chain.
"If you would be captive," I said, "you will be treated as a captive. I accept your submission, and I intend to enforce it."
I removed the dagger from her sash and placed it in my belt. Angrily I slung both bags of rations about her shoulders. Then I picked up the crossbow and left the glade, dragging after me, none too gently, the hooded, stumbling daughter of the Ubar. Beneath the hood, to my amazement, I heard her laugh. — Tarnsman of Gor, page 109-110.It was the same simple ceremony that Sana had performed before me in the chamber of my father, back at Ko-ro-ba--the submission of the captive female. Without raising her eyes from the ground, the daughter of the Ubar said in a clear, distinct voice: "I submit myself." Later I wished that I had had binding fiber to lash her so innocently proffered wrists. I was speechless for a moment, but then, remembering that harsh Gorean custom required me either to accept the submission or slay the captive, I took her wrists in my hands and said, "I accept your submission." — Tarnsman of Gor, pages 93-94.
"In the codes of the warriors, if a warrior accepts a woman as a slave, it is prescribed that, at least for a time, an amount of time up to his discretion, she be spared. If she should be the least bit displeasing, of course, or should prove recalcitrant in even a tiny way, she may immediately be disposed of. — Players of Gor, pages 16-17.
She belonged to Samos, of course. It had been within the context of his capture rights that she had, as a free woman, of her own free will, pronounced upon herself a formula of enslavement. Automatically then, in virtue of the context, she became his. The law is clear on this. The matter is more subtle when the woman is not within a context of capture rights. Here the matter differs from city to city. In some cities, a woman may not, with legal recognition, submit herself to a specific man as a slave, for in those cities that is interpreted as placing at least a temporary qualification on the condition of slavery which condition, once entered into, all cities agree, is absolute. In such cities, then, the woman makes herself a slave, unconditionally. It is then up to the man in question whether or not he will accept her as his slave. In this matter he will do as he pleases. In any event, she is by then a slave, and only that.
In other cities, and in most cities, on the other hand, a free woman may, with legal tolerance, submit herself as a slave to a specific man. If he refuses her, she is then still free. If he accepts her, she is then, categorically, a slave, and he may do with her as he pleases, even selling her or giving her away, or slaying her, if he wishes. Here we might note a distinction between laws and codes. In the codes of the warriors, if a warrior accepts a woman as a slave, it is prescribed that, at least for a time, an amount of time up to his discretion, she be spared. If she should be the least bit displeasing, of course, or should prove recalcitrant in even a tiny way, she may be immediately disposed of.
It should be noted that this does not place a legal obligation on the warrior. It has to do, rather, with the proprieties of the codes. If a woman not within a clear context of rights, such as capture rights, house rights, or camp rights, should pronounce herself slave, simpliciter, then she is subject to claim. These claims may be explicit, as in branding, binding and collaring, or as in the uttering of a claimancy formula, such as "I own you," "You are mine," or "You are my slave," or implicit, as in, for example, permitting the slave to feed from your hand or follow you. — Players of Gor, page 21.
• Suicide and the Warrior
Simply put, suicide is not an option within the codes of the warrior. It has been seen in virtual chat rooms where a warrior will commit suicide, or help another warrior friend in doing such. That is simply NOT the Gorean way; it goes against the Caste Codes.
"The warrior does not kill himself or aid others in the doing of it. It is not in the codes." — Vagabonds of Gor, page 446.
"I am of the Caste of Warriors, and it is in our codes that the only death fit for a man is that in battle…" — Priest-Kings of Gor, page 14.
"The warrior does not kill himself or aid others in the doing of it. It is not in the codes." — Vagabonds of Gor, page 446.
• Sword Oath
"His hand on the hilt of his sword," said Mira, "and his other hand on the medallion of Ar, his daughter was disowned."
I gasped, stunned.
"Yes," laughed Verna, "according to the codes of the warriors and by the rites of the city of Ar, no longer is Talena kin or daughter of Marlenus of Ar."
I lay, stunned. According to irreversible ceremonies, both of the warriors and of the city of Ar, Talena was no longer the daughter of Marlenus. In her shame she had been put outside his house. She was cut off. In law, and in the eyes of Goreans, Talena was now without family. No longer did she have kin. She was now, in her shame, alone, completely. She was now only slave, that and nothing more. — Hunters of Gor, page 131.
• Sword Brotherhood
"Do not harm him," said Kazrak. "He is my sword brother, Tarl of Bristol." Kazrak's remark was in accord with the strange warrior codes of Gor, codes which were as natural to him as the air he breathed, and codes which I, in the Chamber of the Council of Ko-ro-ba, had sworn to uphold. One who has shed your blood, or whose blood you have shed, becomes your sword brother, unless you formally repudiate the blood on your weapons. It is a part of the kinship of Gorean warriors regardless of what city it is to which they owe their allegiance. It is a matter of caste, an expression of respect for those who share their station and profession, having nothing to do with cities or Home Stones. — Tarnsman of Gor, page 119.
• [A] Time for Steel
"No," said the prisoner, "but there is a time and a place for speaking, as there is a time and a place for steel."
"It is a saying of the warriors," said Borchoff. — Slave Girl of Gor, page 269.
• Ubar's Period of Reign
"Normally the office is surrendered after the passing of the crisis," said my father. "It is part of the Warrior's Code."
"But what if he does not give up the office?" I asked. I had learned enough of Gor by now to know that one could not always count on the Caste Codes being observed.
"Those who do not desire to surrender their power," said my father, "are usually deserted by their men. The offending war chief is simply abandoned, left alone in his palace to be impaled by the citizens of the city he has tried to usurp."
I nodded, imagining a palace, empty save for one man sitting alone on his throne, clad in his robes of state, waiting for the angry people outside the gates to break through and work their wrath.
"But," said my father, "sometimes such a war chief, or Ubar, wins the hearts of his men, and they refuse to withdraw their allegiance."
"What happens then?" I asked.
"He becomes a tyrant," said my father, "and rules until eventually, in one way or another, he is ruthlessly deposed." My father's eyes were hard and seemed fixed in thought. It was not mere political theory he spoke to me. I gathered that he knew of such a man. "Until," he repeated slowly, "he is ruthlessly deposed." — Tarnsman of Gor, page42-43.
• Warrior's Coinage
"Steel is the coinage of the warrior," say the codes. "With it he purchases what pleases him." — Marauders of Gor, page 10.
• Warrior's Companion
"Until you find Talena," he said, "your companion is peril and steel."
It was an old Warrior saying. — Priest-Kings of Gor, page 307.
• Warriors Common Home Stone
"Warriors, it is said in the codes, have a common Home Stone. Its name is battle." — Renegades of Gor, page 343.
• Warriors and Slaves
Had I now become so much the Gorean warrior that I could disregard the feelings of a fellow creature, in particular those of a girl, who must be protected and cared for? Could it be that I had, as the Codes of my Caste recommended, not even considered her, but merely regarded her as a rightless animal, no more than a subject beast, an abject instrument to my interests and pleasures, a slave? — Priest-Kings of Gor, pages 47-48 .
Too, both Marcus and myself were of the warriors, the scarlet caste, and as such were not above taking slaves, Such is not only permitted in the codes, but encouraged by them. "The slave is a joy and a convenience to the warrior." — Magicians of Gor, page 315.
Warriors and Weakness
Weakness, for any reason, physical and especially emotional, are not fitting for a warrior.
"I must try not to be weak in the way of the things I love. It is unbefitting a warrior of Gor." — Tarnsman of Gor, page 190.
Special Note
Because of the differences in publishing the books, depending upon whether published in the U.S. or Europe, depending upon whether a first publishing or a Masquerade Books release, page numbers will often vary. All of my quotes are from original, first-printing U.S. publications (see The Books page for a listing of publishers and dates) with the exception of the following books:
- Tarnsman of Gor (2nd Printing, Balantine)
- Outlaw of Gor (11th Printing, Balantine)
- Priest-Kings of Gor (2nd Printing, Balantine)
- Assassin of Gor (10th Printing, Balantine)
- Raiders of Gor (15th Printing, Balantine)
- Captive of Gor (3rd Printing, Balantine)
Disclaimer
These pages are not written for any specific home, but rather as informational pages for those not able to get ahold of the books and read them yourself. Opinions and commentaries are strictly my own personal views, therefore, if you don't like what you are reading — then don't. The information in these pages is realistic to what is found within the books. Many sites have added information, assuming the existences of certain products and practices, such as willowbark and agrimony for healing, and travel to earth and back for the collection of goods. I've explored the books, the flora, the fauna, and the beasts, and have compiled from those mentioned, the probabilities of certain practices, and what vegetation mentioned in the books is suitable for healing purposes, as well as given practicalities to other sorts of roleplaying assumptions.