Border, Breed Nor Birth

by James A. Cox

Baghdad."

  "But how did you recognize me?" Homer said.

  The Amenokal said in reproof, "But verily, your name is on all lips.The Roumi have branded you common criminal. You are to be seized onsight and great reward will be given he who delivers you to theauthorities." He spoke without inflection, and Crawford could readneither support nor animosity--nor greed for the reward offered by ElHassan's enemies. He gathered the impression that the Tuareg chief wasplaying his cards close to his chest.

  "And what else do they say?"

  The elderly Melchizedek went on slowly, "They say that El Hassan is intruth a renegade citizen of a far away Roumi land and that he attemptsto build a great confederation in North Africa for his own gain."

  One of the others chuckled and said, "The Roumi on the magicalinstrument are indeed great liars as all can see."

  Homer looked at him questioningly.

  The other said, laughing, "Who has ever heard of a black Roumi? Andyou, O El Hassan, are as black as a Bela."

  The Amenokal finished off the mystery of Crawford's recognition."Know, El Hassan, that whilst you were here before, one of the slavesthat served you for pay shamelessly looked upon your face in theprivacy of your tent. It was this slave who recognized your face whenthe Roumi presented it on the magic instrument, calling upon all mento see you and to brand you enemy."

  So that was it. The Reunited Nations, and probably all the rest, hadused their radio and TV stations to broadcast a warning and offer areward for Homer and his followers. Old Sven was losing no time. Thiswasn't so good. A Tuareg owes allegiance to no one beyond clan, tribeand confederation. All others are outside the pale and any advantage,monetary or otherwise, to be gained by exploiting a stranger is wellwithin desert mores.

  He might as well bring it to the point. Crawford said evenly, "And Ihave entered your camp alone except for two followers. Your people aremany. So why, O Amenokal, have you not seized me for the reward theRoumi offer?"

  * * * * *

  There was a moment of silence and Homer Crawford sensed that thesub-chieftains had leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for theirleader's words. Possibly they, too, could not understand.

  The Tuareg leader finished his tea.

  "Because, El Hassan, we yet have not heard the message which the Roumiare so anxious that you not be allowed to bring the men of the desert.The Roumi are great liars, and great thieves, as each man knows. Inthe memory of those still living, they have stolen of the bedouin androbbed him of land and wealth. So now we would hear of what you say,before we decide."

  "Spoken like a true Amenokal, a veritable Suliman ben Davud," Homersaid with a heartiness he could only partly feel. At least they wereopen to persuasion.

  For a long moment he stared down at the rug upon which they sat, asthough deep in contemplation.

  "These words I speak will be truly difficult to hear and accept, O menof the veil," he said at last. "For I speak of great change, and noman loves change in the way of his life."

  "Speak, El Hassan," Melchizedek said flatly. "Great change iseverywhere upon us, as each man knows, and none can tell how tomaintain the ways of our fathers."

  "We can fight," one of the younger men growled.

  The Amenokal turned to him and grunted scorn. "And would you fightagainst the weapons of the djinn and afrit, O Guemama? Know that in myyouth I was distant witness to the explosion of a great weapon whichthe accursed Franzawi discharged south of Reggan. Know, that thissingle explosion, my sister's son, could with ease have destroyed thetotal of all the tribesmen of the Ahaggar, had they been gathered."

  "And the Roumi have many such weapons," Crawford added gently.

  The eyes of the tribal headmen came back to him.

  "As each man knows," Crawford continued, "change is upon the world. Nomatter how strongly one wills to continue the traditions of hisfathers, change is upon us all. And he who would press against thesand storm, rather than drifting with it, lasts not long."

  One of the subchiefs growled, "We Tuareg love not change, El Hassan."

  Crawford turned to him. "That is why I and my viziers have spent longhours in _ekhwan_, in great council, devoted to the problems of theTuareg and how they can best fit into the new Africa that everywhereawakes."

  They stirred in interest now. The Tuareg, once the Scourge of theSahara, the Sons of Shaitan and the Forgotten of Allah, to the Arab,Teda, Moroccan and other fellow inhabitants of North Africa, were ofrecent decades developing a tribal complex. Robbed of theirnomadic-bandit way of life by first the French Camel Corps and laterby the efforts of the Reunited Nations, they were rapidly descendinginto a condition of poverty and defensive bewilderment. Not only werelarge numbers of former bedouin drifting to the area's sedentarycenters, an act beyond contempt within the memory of the elders, butthe best elements of the clans were often deserting Tuareg countrycompletely and defecting to the new industrial centers, the damprojects, the afforestation projects, the new oases irrigated with thesolar-powered pumps.

  "Speak, El Hassan," the Amenokal ordered. And unconsciously, he, too,leaned forward, as did his subchiefs. The Ahaggar Tuareg were reachingfor straws, unconsciously seeking shoulders upon which to lay theirunsolvable problems.

  "Let me, O chiefs of the Tuareg, tell of a once strong tribe ofwarriors and nomads who lived in the far country in which I was born,"Crawford said. The desert man loves a story, a parable, a tale of thestrong men of yesteryear.

  Melchizedek clapped his hands in summons and when a slave appeared,called for _narghileh_ water pipes. When all had been supplied, theyrelaxed, bits in mouths and looked again at Homer Crawford.

  "They were called," he intoned, "the Cheyenne. The Northern Cheyenne,for they had a sister tribe to the South. And on all the plains ofthis great land, a land, verily, as large as all that over which theTuareg confederations now roam, they were the greatest huntsmen, thegreatest warriors. All feared them. They were the lords of all."

  "Ai," breathed one of the older men. "As were the Tuareg before thecoming of the cursed Franzawi and the other Nazrani."

  "But in time," Crawford pursued, "came the new ways to the plains, andthese men who lived largely by the chase began to see the lands fencedin for farmers, began to see large cities erected on what were oncetribal areas, and to see the iron railroads of the new ways begin tospread out over the whole of the territory which once was roamed onlyby the Cheyennes and such nomadic tribes."

  "Ai," a muffled mouth ejected.

  Homer Crawford looked at the younger Targui, Guemama, the Amenokal'snephew. "And so," he said, "they fought."

  "Wallahi!" Guemama breathed.

  Homer Crawford looked about the circle. "Never has tribe fought as didthe Cheyenne. Never has the world seen such warriors, with theexception, of course, of the Ahaggar Tuareg. Never were such raids,never such bravery, never such heroic deeds as were performed by thewarriors of the Cheyennes and their women, and their old people andtheir children. Over and over they defeated the cavalry and theinfantry of the newcomers who would change the old ways and bring thenew to the lands of the Cheyennes."

  The bedouin were staring in fascination, their water pipes forgotten.

  "And then...?" the Amenokal demanded.

  "The new ways taught the enemy how to make guns, and artillery, andfinally Gatling guns, which today we call machine guns. And once abrave warrior might prevail against a common man armed with theweapons of the new ways, and even twice he might. But the numbers ofthe followers of the new ways are as the sands of the Great Erg and intime bravery means nothing."

  "It is even so," someone growled. "They are as the sands of the erg,and they have the weapons of the djinn, as each man knows."

  "And what happened in the end, O El Hassan?"

  His eyes swept them all. "They perished," Homer said. "Today in allthe land where once the Cheyenne pursued the game there is but ahandful of the tribe alive. And they have become nothing people, nolonger warriors, no longer nomads, and the
y are scorned by all forthey are poor, poor, poor. Poor in mind and spirits, and in propertyand they have not been able to adjust to the ways of the new world."

  Air went out of the lungs of the assembled Tuareg.

  The Amenokal looked at him. "This is verily the truth, El Hassan?"

  "My head upon it," Crawford said.

  "And why do you tell us of these Cheyenne, these great warriors of theplains of the land of your birth? The story fails to bring joy tohearts already heavy with the troubles of the Tuareg."

  It was time to play the joker.

  Crawford said carefully, "Because there was no need, O Amenokal of allthe Ahaggar, for the Cheyenne to disappear before the sandstorm of thefuture. They