by Bev Allen
“Makes you feel small does it? An insignificant thing in all this vastness?”
Lucien had not really considered it in detail before, but this made a lot of sense and he nodded, shame faced.
“And you just can’t stand the idea of something bigger, wiser or cleverer than you?”
“No,” Lucien protested.
There was another long silence, which made him wriggle uncomfortably and Jon seemed to expect him to fill it, so eventually spoke.
“At home and at school I didn’t fit in. My … my father doesn’t like me much. I’m not sure why, I’ve never known. He always seems to be waiting for me to be something, but I can never work out what it is.”
He gazed sadly into the fire.
“I do love this land,” he said. “I know you probably don’t believe me anymore, but I only felt happy when I was out in the woods. It was the only place I felt I belonged. I thought if I could do it all the time, maybe …”
He ran down, unsure of what to say next.
“Maybe you’d be completely in control of your own life for once?”
“Something like that,” Lucien admitted. “Be happy most of the time, instead of just occasionally.”
“You can’t control any of this, son,” Jon said kindly. “You can be a part of it and protect it or you can destroy it, but you can’t take charge of it and make it run according to your needs.”
Lucien nodded; he just had a tough lesson on the subject.
“You need to decide what it is you want to do here,” Jon continued. “Because as far as I’m concerned there’s no middle ground. You either want to be a part of caring for this land, its people, its animals and its trees, or you want to be a part of those who want to ruin it.”
Lucien sat and gazed around at the trees reflected in the water, listened to the sounds of birds shouting their territorial claims and the softer sounds of fish breaking the surface and, somewhere close by, a small animal moving through the undergrowth.
The smell of wood smoke combined with the faint herbal fragrance of Jon’s tea, and his head went down.
“I want to be a part of this,” he whispered. “I need to be a part of it. I don’t think I knew really knew why before, not really, but I do want it. And not to spoil it, but to protect it.”
Jon watched him for a while, long enough for his lack of response to bother Lucien and make him look up apprehensively. What he saw made him drop his head back down again. Jon was far from mollified, far from it.
“Assuming for the moment I’m prepared to accept everything you have just said, we will move on to the next stage of our talk.”
His voice was stern enough to make Lucien shoot him a wary look. While they had been talking Jon had finished his tea and had stripped the leaves and twigs from a selection of supple lengths of young willow. He carefully considered each one, swiping the air with it experimentally. Most he put on the fire, but a couple he laid down beside him.
“Everyone needs to learn to obey rules and accept orders, my lad,” he said. “I have to obey those of the Tribal Liaison Guild and carry out The Grand Master’s instructions. You have to obey TLG rules as well and carry out my orders.”
Lucien opened his mouth to say something, but Jon stalled him.
“Don’t give me that bollocks about not liking being told what to do. I don’t give a damn whether you like it or not, you’re going to learn to do it! A Tribal Liaison Officer is not only a good woodsman, he is also a good policeman and he has to have a certain morality. A sound knowledge of what is right and what is wrong. It seems to me your education in this field has been sadly lacking. I’ve no doubt you’ve been brought up to have little or no respect for anything or anyone- it’s an attitude that would serve you well in your father’s world, but you chose to become a Guild apprentice.”
“I’m not like Dad!” Lucien protested. “I’m not!”
“Then prove it,” Jon said. “You can learn here, with me, or you can learn the hard way. Back at the Settlement washing dishes for your food or hoeing fields on a correction farm.”
He took out his half of Lucien’s indenture papers and Lucien’s half and held them over the fire.
The warmth from the embers began to melt the wax and red drips started to form around the edge of seals ready to fall into the fire.
“Choose which path you want to go down,” Jon ordered.
Lucien gasped at the smell of paper crisping in the heat.
“No!” he shouted in horror as one corner turned black and began to smoke.
“Sure?” Jon demanded.
“Yes!” Lucien yelled, nearly hoarse with anxiety.
A tiny flame appeared.
“Please!” Lucien begged in anguish.
Jon snuffed the small blaze between calloused fingers, smiling grimly.
“Very well,” he said. “But there are going to be a few changes. My master had a very firm hand with indiscipline or disrespect. I used to think it was too firm on occasions, but lately I’ve come to understand his way of thinking.”
He picked up one of the switches he had made and Lucien felt slightly sick. He had a good idea what was about to happen, but to his surprise Jon consigned it to the fire.
“This is your final warning,” he said as he picked up another and flicked it in the air. “Out of line one more time, either by directly defying me or by pretending it isn’t disobedience ... and don’t come the innocent with me, Lucien, you know you’ve pulled that stunt. This fiasco being the last in the line. Do it again and I will take my belt to your backside.”
He threw the last switch on to the fire.
“Be thankful,” he advised. “My master would’ve warmed my behind with one of those if I’d been half the bloody little pest you’ve been. Go and get some water before I change my mind.”
Lucien grabbed the canteen and ran.
Chapter 11
They stayed a couple more days until Lucien had fully regained his lost condition. Jon filled the time with instruction on poisonous plants and making the boy begin to learn the TLG rules by heart.
They were listed in a fat little book with very small print.
“I was saving this until we were snowed in come winter,” Jon told a sulky Lucien. “But I think you need to know them right now.”
All rebellion was crushed by laying a significant hand on his belt buckle and while Lucien was not totally convinced he would do it, he was not quite prepared to take the risk.
His reward for obedience was when Jon took him in the gathering dusk to watch forest cat cubs playing in the fading light of day. Three fat fluffy babies stalked each other, tumbling and pouncing outside their concealed den.
He and Jon slipped silently away as their mother, alert for any hint of danger, returned to give them their supper.
The journey back down the river was swift, as the current was with them and Lucien had learnt enough paddling skills to be a help, not a hindrance. He was not enthusiastic about their quick progress, as he was not sure what he was going to say to Vlic.
Floating down the river, preoccupied by unpleasant thoughts of humility, it took a while for what he was hearing to penetrate his head. Somewhere behind the sounds of the paddles in the water, the wind in the trees and the cries of birds overhead, was a deeper, alien noise.
He strained his ears to hear it and turned enquiringly to Jon, who seemed oblivious.
Again he caught the sound, an urgent demanding tone and this time he said, “Listen!”
Jon stopped paddling and waited. From far down the river the wind bore the faintest timbre, a steady low throbbing.
“Bloody hell!” Jon exclaimed. “War drums!”
Lucien caught a crab and nearly toppled them, but Jon held them steady and began to dig his paddle into the water with deep even strokes, powering them on towards the village.
As the urgent summons became louder and louder, Lucien matched him stroke for stroke as Jon raised the rate. Suddenly he stopped and the rapid chan
ge of pace threw Lucien forward into the bottom of the boat. When he stopped swearing and pulled himself up, Jon had turned the canoe, pointing its nose straight to the bank.
“What the hell …” Lucien exclaimed. “We’re a mile off at least.”
“I know!” Jon responded. “But if a war party has come down by canoe, they’ll be drawn up under the bluffs and it will certainly be guarded. We’ll leave this here and go on foot.”
This made a great deal of sense and Lucien gathered up his bow and arrows and prepared to follow Jon through the trees.
He had trouble matching the pace; only his long stride made it possible to keep up.
Jon took them from the bank and deep into the forest, skirting the edges of the village to approach it from the landward side.
As the trees became less thick, they dropped to their stomachs and crawled through the undergrowth, drawn ever onwards by the demand of the throbbing drums.
As they got nearer, the sound seemed to fill every conceivable space, subduing any rustle or snap of breaking twig that might have announced their presence.
Finally they came to a fallen log and were able to peer over it and see what happened below them.
“Bears!” Jon said softly.
Lucien looked down on to the central clearing in the village and could see two gatherings of men facing each other.
On one side were the Forest Cat; he could make out the painted shields and saw held aloft on two poles one of the deerskins from the men’s house, the image of the hunting cat glaring balefully out and the eyes flashed as the sun caught the shine of burnished gold.
Every man was armed with a lance or a long handled axe. War clubs or short axes hung from their belts and even from a distance Lucien could read their body language. They were armed, spoiling for a fight and very dangerous.
Facing Iesgood was a force of near equal strength. They seemed to favour the spear over the long axe and most of them carried a short sword rather than a war club, but they appeared similar to Lucien. The main difference was the golden brown bear on their shields and the lack of any war banner.
“Wait here,” Jon ordered, getting to his feet.
“No!” Lucien protested.
Jon took his shoulder and held it firmly.
“Listen to me,” he said, urgently. “You don’t understand what’s going on down there and you could do a lot of harm. Stay here until I call for you. No matter what you see or think you see.”
“But …”
“Do as you are told!” Jon commanded. “Those are my orders and you’re to obey them. Understood?”
Reluctantly Lucien nodded and watched in trepidation as Jon marched down to where the two hostile bands faced each other.
Without a moment’s hesitation he strode between them and stood in the centre all alone.
Fear and a terrible anxiety hit Lucien like a hammer blow and he was suddenly elated and embarrassed at the affection he found he had for Jon. It had crept up on him when he had not being paying attention.
He thought he probably loved his mother and he was equally certain he probably did not love his unfathomable father; he certainly had no respect for either of them. If he thought about it at all, affectionate contempt was about the kindest emotion he felt, but frustrated fury was the more common one. In Jon he had discovered someone he could respect and whose approval was important to him.
There was no desire to see him removed from this life. Certainly not now, when he only just discovered what it was he really wanted to be and found someone who could help him achieve his goal.
Orders be damned, he edged forward, keeping as low to the ground as he could.
He was still out of ear shot, but he could see the angry gestures Iesgood and his opposite number exchanged and Jon move to stand between them. Dimly it crossed Lucien’s mind this all might have something to do with Jon’s other role as policeman, but he was too anxious to give it a great deal of thought.
Feeling sick with worry, Lucien took the chance of a swift run to the protection of the nearest cabin wall.
He watched in horrid anticipation as the often impassioned conversation continued. The Bear leader said something and Iesgood’s hand went to his war club, but Jon stepped between them and after some angry finger shaking and shouting the two moved apart again.
Iesgood said something and this time the Bear leader went for his weapon and Jon again came between them.
Lucien saw another chance to move closer to the action and, bent double, he made his way to the next cabin where he could make out some of what was being said, or at least the shouted parts.
It seemed mostly to be insults; he heard the word ‘niiffliin’ at least twice and a couple of others he did not understand. The continuous throbbing of the drums was getting on his nerves, making him jumpy. Jon was obviously in danger and he felt he should be doing something to help him.
Suddenly the situation in front of him escalated. Lucien heard the word ‘liar’ clearly and the warriors who had been a silent but watchful audience while their leaders ‘conferred’ reacted, shouting abuse and shaking their weapons at each other.
It was far too dangerous for Jon to be there unprotected and Lucien eased his bow from his back and strung it faster than he ever thought he could. Hands trembling he pulled an arrow from his quiver and fitted the notch into the string.
The scene before him seemed to deteriorate rapidly, there was a huge amount of shouting from all the onlookers and some of them were beating out the drum rhythm on their shields with war clubs.
There was a sudden surge forward and Jon seemed to disappear amongst a sea of angry warriors and Lucien leapt to his feet, bow ready. There was more yelling and wild whooping cries and they parted to show Jon still alive and still standing, but the Bear leader had raised his sword and was taking a step towards Iesgood.
Jon instantly blocked the aggressor’s way, hustling him, standing only inches from his face.
The sword rose and for a second it seemed as if it would fall and take Jon’s head from his shoulders.
Without a moment’s hesitation Lucien rose to his feet and loosed the arrow from his bow.
It soared across the space between them and struck the Bear leader’s shield with a firm decisive thwack!
There was instant and total silence and suddenly Lucien’s world was full of eyes. Everyone, every single person gathered there, was looking at him. It was only then he saw the women and children drawn up on the edges and the Elders watching from the Meeting House.
The drums ceased to throb and Lucien’s mouth went dry and his knees turned to water.
The only person to make a move was Jon. He carefully removed the still quivering arrow from the Bear leader’s shield and then turned and beckoned to Lucien. His expression was unreadable, but something about the single finger calling for his presence made Lucien quake.
Very slowly he made his way to Jon’s side.
“Would you care to explain?” Jon asked softly.
“I thought …” Lucien began.
“I doubt if thought entered into any part of it,” Jon interrupted. “And I asked for an explanation.”
“He was ... I thought ... you were in danger … I … um ...”
Lucien dried up at this point.
The Bear leader was considering the arrow and the damage to his shield. For a man who came close to death at worst and injury at best, he seemed remarkably calm.
“Your cheed, Harabin dheillwer?” he asked, conversationally, giving Lucien a rather kindly glance.
“Regrettably, Dwerek bietriwer,” Jon replied.
Dwerek nodded thoughtfully. “We were all young once,” he remarked. “And perhaps it’s time to stop this discussion, satisfying as it has been.”
His face split in a wide grin.
“You’d have lost this war of words, old friend,” he told Iesgood. “Had not the boy saved you from humiliation.”
“In your more fanciful dreams perhaps,” Iesgood reto
rted with an equally wide grin. “I had hardly begun to fight.”
Dwerek struck his hand on his shield and said.
“Iesgood, bietriwer … we are agreed then? Neither of us is responsible for this crime and neither of us has the girl. We will join forces and seek for who is guilty and then we will do war upon them!”
There was a huge cheer from the assembled warriors and as he and Iesgood shook hands the drums began to beat out again.
Under the cover of all this Jon took Lucien firmly by one ear and led him away.
“Have you any idea what you nearly did?” Jon demanded once they reached the seclusion of the men’s house.
“I thought he was going to kill you,” Lucien replied. “I really did!”
“Did you? And what did you base that assessment on?”
Lucien thought about what he had seen and stuck his bottom lip out.
“It looked as if he was going to kill you,” he growled.
Jon gave him a hard, exasperated look.
“It may have looked that way, but what you were seeing was an old tribal custom,” he explained. “It is a way to take tension out of a possibly dangerous situation, by allowing feelings to be vented in a controlled way. Sometimes things can get a little more heated than is desirable, which is why an outsider is welcome in the middle. As I would’ve told you once the whole thing was over.”
Lucien blushed.
“What did I tell you to do?”
Hoping this was a rhetorical question Lucien avoided answering, only to have his head forced up and the question repeated.
“Stay out of it and do nothing,” he muttered.
“Exactly!” Jon snapped. “But you walked into a situation you knew nothing about despite everything I said.”
“I thought you were in danger,” Lucien explained again.
“Did you indeed? And shooting one of the main protagonists was likely to make me safer.” Jon retorted. “You are a bloody young fool!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” Jon replied grimly, reaching for his belt.
