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There was a whimpering and a scuffling from behind me, and, to my astonishment, one of the guardsman of the palace, the tiny silver mask blazed across the left temple of his helmet, flung Ost, the conspirator, yoked and sniveling, to the foot of the throne. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #93)

"Bring in Ost!" ordered the Tatrix. I thought Dorna the Proud stirred uneasily in the curule chair. She smoothed the silver folds of her robes with a nervous hand, gloved in silver. There was a whimpering and a scuffling from behind me, and, to my astonishment, one of the guardsman of the palace, the tiny silver mask blazed across the left temple of his helmet, flung Ost, the conspirator, yoked and sniveling, to the foot of the throne. Ost's yoke was much lighter than mine but, as he was a smaller man, the weight might have been as much for him. "Kneel to the Tatrix," commanded Thorn, who still retained the whip. Ost, squealing with fear, tried to rise, but could not lift the yoke. - (Outlaw of Gor)