Caste of Bakers
Here are relevant references from the Books where the Caste of Bakers 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,
I stayed four days in the rooms above the shop of Dina of Turia. There I dyed my hair black and exchanged the robes of the merchant for the yellow and brown tunic of the Bakers, to which caste her father and two brothers had belonged.
Downstairs the wooden screens that had separated the shop from the street had been splintered apart; the counter had been broken and the ovens ruined, their oval domes shattered, their iron doors twisted from their hinges; even the top stones on the two grain mills had been thrown to the floor and broken.
At one time, I gathered from Dina, her father's shop had been the most famed of the baking shops of Turia, most of which are owned by Saphrar of Turia, whose interests range widely, though operated naturally, as Gorean custom would require, by members of the Caste of Bakers. Her father had refused to sell the shop to Saphrar's agents, and take his employment under the merchant. Shortly thereafter some seven or eight ruffians, armed with clubs and iron bars, had attacked the shop, destroying its equipment. In attempting to defend against this attack both her father and her two older brothers had been beaten to death. Her mother had died shortly thereafter of shock. Dina had lived for a time on the savings of the family, but had then taken them, sewn in the lining of her robes, and purchased a place on a caravan wagon bound for Ar, which caravan had been ambushed by Kassars, in which raid she herself, of course, had fallen into their hands.
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 237
I knew, though I did not speak of it with her, that she was willingly risking her life to shelter me in her native city. Indeed, it is possible I might have died the first night in Turia had it not been that Dina had seen me, followed me and in my time of need boldly stood forth as my ally. In thinking of her I realized how foolish are certain of the Gorean prejudices with respect to the matter of caste. The Caste of Bakers is not regarded as a high caste, to which one looks for nobility and such; and yet her father and her brothers, outnumbered, had fought and died for their tiny shop; and this courageous girl, with a valor I might not have expected of many warriors, weaponless, alone and friendless, had immediately, asking nothing in return, leaped to my aid, giving me the protection of her home, and her silence, placing at my disposal her knowledge of the city and whatever resources might be hers to command.
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 239
Beneath the unbelted tunic of the Bakers, slung under my left arm, its lineaments concealed largely by a short brown cloak worn over the left shoulder, there hung my sword and with it, the quiva.
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 243
"There is a certain resemblance between yourself and my friend Tarl Cabot," Harold was saying, "save that your swordplay is decidedly inferior to his. Also he was of the caste of warriors and would not permit himself to be seen on his funeral pyre in the robes of so low a caste as that of the Bakers. Moreover, his hair was red like a larl from the sun - whereas yours is a rather common and, if I may say so, a rather uninspired black."
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 245
I knew that while the Tuchuks remained in Turia there would be in all the city no woman more safe than lovely Dina, she only of the Caste of Bakers.
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 252
She laughed. "Foolish warrior," she chided, "I am only the daughter of a baker."
"He was a noble and valiant man," I said.
"Thank you," said she.
"And his daughter, too," I said, "is a noble and valiant woman and beautiful."
Nomads of Gor Book 4 Page 336
Less impressive perhaps but even more essential to the operation of the House were its kitchens, its laundries, commissaries and storerooms; its medical facilities, in which dental care is also provided; its corridors of rooms for staff members, all of whom live in the House; its library, its records and files; its cubicles for Smiths, Bakers, Cosmeticians, Bleachers, Dyers, Weavers and Leather Workers; its wardrobe and jewelry chambers; its tarncots, two of them, opening by means of vast portals to tarn perches fixed in the side of the cylinder; its training rooms, both for slaves and for guards, and for those learning the trade of the slaver; recreation rooms for the staff; eating places; and, of course, various pens, kennels and retention facilities; as well as a chamber in which slaves are processed, collared and branded; deliveries to the House of Cernus, both of foodstuffs and materials, and slaves, are frequent; it is not unusual that a hundred slaves be received in a given day; the total number of slaves in the house at any one time, a shifting population, of course, tends to be between four and six thousand.
Assassin of Gor Book 5 Pages 111 - 112
The baker had tied the sack about her neck, with a baker's knot, fastened behind the back of her neck.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Page 65
Then they parted, to let her pass, but in such a way that she must walk in one direction. Then, flanking her, and preventing her from going anywhere but where they wished, they escorted her to the shop of the bakers. Later I saw her returning. The note, on its string, was no longer about her neck. But now, about her neck, tied with the baker's knot, fastened behind the back of her neck, was a sack of two loaves of Sa-Tarna bread. She was escorted by the dock workers to the very foot of the gangplank of the Tesephone.
Hunters of Gor Book 8 Pages 66 - 67
"I lived in Ar for a year," she said. "Not far from my apartments there was a pastry shop. Marvelous smells used to come from the shop. In the evening, when the shop was closing, slave girls, in their brief tunics and collars, would come and kneel down, near the hinged opening to the open-air counter. The baker, who was a kind-hearted man, would sometimes come out and, from a flat sheet, throw them unsold pastries."
Blood Brothers of Gor Book 18 Page 33
Irritatingly enough the same street is sometimes known by different names to different people. It is fairly common, for example, for a given street to be commonly known by one name at one end of it and another name at the other end of it, and perhaps by even another name or two, or three, along its length. For example, at one end people might think of it as the street where Vaskon, the leather worker, has his shop, and at the other end people will think of it as the street where Milo the Baker has his pastry shop.
Kajira of Gor Book 19 Page 318
"Look at that fellow," said Marcus, indicating a baker striding by. The fellow fixed a fearless gaze upon us.
"He is only one man," I said.
"There is something different in Ar these days," he said.
"He is only one man," I said.
"Who walks proudly," said Marcus.
"He will not walk so proudly if he is beaten by a Cosian patrol," I said.
"In any event," said Marcus, "the power of the Initiates is certainly less now than before in the city."
Magicians of Gor Book 25 Page 209
I did note, however, the brown and black of the Bakers, the black and gray of the Metal Worker, the brown of the Peasants, and several others.
Mariners of Gor Book 30 Page 504
"But," said Eve, "if we are of low caste, of the Metal Workers, the Cloth Workers, the Workers in Wood, the Leather Workers, the Bakers, the Tarnsters, or such, we would have to be placed lower at the tables."
Conspirators of Gor Book 31 Page 26
I smelled fresh bread. Almost all bread on Gor is fresh, as it is frequently baked. There is very little in the way of packaging, transportation, storage, shelving, and such. Indeed, it is frequently eaten shortly after emerging from the oven. On my former world I had never eaten fresh bread. Only on Gor had I learned how marvelous is the taste of fresh bread. The common Gorean loaf is flat and circular, and is divided, if divided, into either four or eight slices.
I turned. "Master!" I said, happily, instantly kneeling.
It was Leander, the Baker.
As I passed this way every day or two, or every two or three days, I knew some of the shopkeepers by appearance and name. I was sometimes called to their feet and questioned with respect to what was current in the city. The taverns, in their way, rather like the markets, provide a clearing house for reports and rumors, for facts and lies, for information and misinformation, and the paga girls, by default, so to speak, are likely to be amongst the best informed sources of information and misinformation in the city.
So I knelt before Leander, hoping for a roll or bit of bread, and told him the latest gossip and rumors, the freshest scandals and stories, which had circulated amongst the patrons of the Golden Chain.
I had knelt before Leander of Port Kar, the Baker. I had tried to delight and flatter him, hoping to be fed.
"I am not a thief, Master," I said. "Look upon a slave! I am not so bold! I would not dare to steal anything, even an olive or grape!"
"There are crumbs about your mouth," he said, wiping a finger across my lips and then running the finger over his tongue. "You stole a pastry from the baker," he said, "with honey!"
"No, Master," I said, "I was given the pastry by Master Leander. He is not far from here. He may be asked."
This was true, but I trusted that Master Leander would not in fact be asked. He was a jolly fellow, and I feared he might think it a delightful joke to feign ignorance of the entire matter.