by Fogaban
Caste of Vintners
Here are relevant references from the Books where the Caste of Vintners is mentioned.
It is not meant to be anything other than the facts of the matter. Arrive at your own conclusions.
I wish you well,
Fogaban
"Game!" I heard, an answering cry, and a fat fellow, of the Caste of Vintners, puffing and bright eyed, wearing a white tunic with a representation in green cloth of leaves about the collar and down the sleeves of the garment, stepped forth from a doorway.
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Page 29
I am an admirer of skills, of efficiencies of various sorts. I admire the skill of the leather worker with his needle, that of the potter's strong hands, that of the vintner with his wines, that of warriors with their weapons.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 47
"I am Philebus, a vintner, of Torcadino," said the man.
Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 244
"Next," said a Taurentian. "You, there, what is your business in Ar?"
"I am a vintner," said the fellow before me. "I was put out of Torcadino. I have relatives in Ar. It is my intention to seek caste asylum in Ar."
"Have you papers?" asked the Taurentian.
"I have documents certifying my caste standing," he said. He then produced some papers from his pack.
Mercenaries of Gor Book 21 Page 252
"Ah, Ellen!" called the portly vat master, one of the caste of vintners. "One can scarcely scrape the bottom of the vat! These loafing tarsks drink like desert kaiila! Hurry to the sutlers! Tell them to trundle a new cask to the vat of Callimachus!"
Ellen stood there, clutching her pitcher. She regarded the vintner with dismay.
She did not want to make her way to the sutlers for that way took her into the darkness, and into the tented areas, closer to the walls of the city. Too, if she went directly, it might take her near the crates containing the strange beasts that had terrorized her, even within their confinements.
"Hurry!" said the vintner. "Do not just stand there! Run!"
"Yes, Master!" cried Ellen, frightened.
"Stop!" he cried.
"Master?" inquired Ellen.
"Leave the pitcher, stupid girl!" he called.
Confused, frightened, she put the pitcher on the bench near the vat, where others already reposed.
She suddenly fled to Callimachus, the vintner, the vat master, and fell to her knees before him. "Might not another slave, a swifter slave, a more beautiful slave, better accomplish this errand, Master?" she inquired.
Prize of Gor Book 27 Page 409
And, in the end, she supposed, Brundisium, in turn, might decide that this benevolence might be best exacted of her merchant caste, and particularly of those dealing in wines. But here, again, these were not concerns for such as she, a slave.
Prize of Gor Book 27 Page 410
