He would have preferred to go on horseback. But these shaggy, long-headed ponies had never been ridden, and it would take too long to break one. He walked. When they neared a settlement, he and Withucar got onto their chariots, set their teeth against the jouncing, and arrived in what this era took for dignity.
On the whole, though – even after what followed – Lockridge admitted he’d seldom had more fun. His pet recreation had always been to backpack into some wilderness area; now he could do it with Withucar’s liege men to carry the load. When they reached people, they were hospitably received, and he was fascinated to observe details that weren’t recorded in his diaglossa. (Which, gradually, he was ceasing to need, as repeated usage imprinted speech and customs on his natural memory.) In Battle Ax camps, rough ceremony was followed by feasting. The ancient agricultural villages were a little wary at first: not scared, however, for they hadn’t had many clashes with the immigrants, the land being wide and thinly settled. They would begin with elaborate rituals. But they were apt to end with a celebration that would have raised twentieth-century eyebrows.
The message Lockridge bore was simple. The veritable Goddess had established Herself in Avildaro. She was not, as some had said, the enemy of Sun and Fire; rather, She was Mother, Wife, and Daughter to the male gods. The Powers desired Their children to be united as They Themselves were. To that end, the first of a series of councils would be held at Avildaro this midwinter, to discuss ways and means. All headmen were invited. Lockridge didn’t add, ‘Or else.’ That would have been both antagonizing and unnecessary.
Some of what he saw and heard repelled him. But we’ll fix that, he promised himself. Mostly, he enjoyed the people. He couldn’t even call them less sophisticated than his own. Albeit tenuously, they had broad contacts: in the case of the Battle Ax tribes, as far as southern Russia. Their politics were almost as complicated as the twentieth century’s, on a smaller scale, and untainted by ideology; their mores were a good deal subtler; if ignorant of physics, historiography, or that pseudo-science called economics, they were wise in the ways of earth, sky, and humankind.
His route took him by a holy hill which would become Viborg, over country more fertile than what he had seen in the future; north to the surf and wide strands of the Skaw; southward again along the Limfjord. A small beginning. Yet he needed almost a month. The heaths were blossoming in purple and gold, sunrise saw hoarfrost and the leaves had begun to turn color, before he reached Avildaro again.
That was on a day when the wind came brawling off the western sea, light and cloud shadow raced each other across the world, waves marched on the bay and on the puddles from last night’s rain. The forest tossed and shouted; stubblefields lay yellow and the meadow grass had become hay. A flight of storks went under the sun, Egypt bound. The air was chill, with smells of salt, smoke, and horses.
Lockridge’s party had been seen from afar. He rode through the Yutho encampment among lusty cheers, onto the no man’s land between it and the village. No Tenil Orugaray were out to welcome him.
Except Auri. She came on jubilant feet, calling to him over and over. He made his driver stop, swept her up and hugged her. ‘Yes, little one, I am fine, we had no trouble, of course I am glad to see you but I do have to tell the Goddess my story first—’ He would have liked to give her a lift, but the chariot scarcely had room. She danced beside the wheels the whole way.
At the Long House, trouble touched her. ‘I will abide in my home, Lynx,’ she said, and hastened off.
Withucar stared after her and scratched his beard. ‘A good bit of flesh, yon,’ he said. ‘How is she with a man?’
‘She’s a maiden,’ Lockridge answered curtly.
‘Eh?’ Dismounting, the Yutho gaped. ‘Can’t be. Not among the Sea People.’
Lockridge explained what had happened.
‘We-e-ell,’ the chief murmured. ‘Well, well. But surely you’re not afraid of her?’
‘No. I’m too busy.’ Lockridge snapped his mouth shut.
‘Ah, yes.’ Withucar signed himself, though he also grinned. ‘You are favored of the Goddess.’ That was no longer cause for undue reverence, after he and the American had tramped the hills, hallooed after deer, cursed rain and unstartable campfires, and faced possible death together. ‘This Auri,’ he said. ‘I’ve liked her looks erenow, but took without thought that she was yours. She does nuzzle up to you every chance.’
‘We’re friends,’ Lockridge said with rising irritation. ‘Were she a man, we would be oath-brothers. Any hurt done her is done me, and I’ll take revenge.’
‘Oh, yes, yes. Still, you’d not wish her left single forever, would you?’
Lockridge could only shake his head.
‘And she is the inheritor of the old headman here; and you say the curse is off her – hm.’
Well, Lockridge thought with an odd sinking, that may turn out the best answer to her problem.
He couldn’t keep her long in mind, though. Storm waited.
In the presence of Hu and Withucar, she greeted him formally, and seemed only half to listen to his report. He was soon dismissed. However, she had given him a smile and said an English word: ‘Tonight.’
After that, and the easy comradeship of his past weeks, he didn’t want to spend the day among the Tenil Orugaray. They had changed from the merry folk he knew before, into a bewildered and sullen occupied country. A gap had opened between him and them; he was Her agent, and She had chosen to reveal some of Her more terrible aspects. He could have visited the Yuthoaz … but no, he would see their slaves. Auri? Well, that had become a rather difficult relationship. He hiked off alone. The sacred pool on the forest edge probably wasn’t too cold for him to wash off his journey’s grime.
He should have been happy. But something had gone sour. He chewed it over as the miles went past. Surely the peaceful unification of the two races was a good goal. And the Battle Ax men weren’t bad by nature; just sort of overbearing. Like untrained boys. That was it. They needed the fear of the Lord thrown into them. Specifically, they needed a respect for the humanity of the aborigines. At present, they were merely adding the Moon Goddess to their pantheon, with nothing except Her command to keep them from making booty of the Sea People. And no entire culture had ever respected another which gave no good account of itself in battle.
Progress, Lockridge thought sadly. Will man be any different, four thousand years from now? We white Americans may have robbed the Indian, but because he fought back, we’re proud of any Indian blood we may have. The Negro we plain despised, till my very own decades, when at last he stood up and slugged it out for his rights.
Maybe John and Mary’s people don’t have to have their noses rubbed in blood before they can honor a stranger. I like to think so. But how do we get from here to there?
Maybe that’s my job. To lay one single brick for their house.
Only how? The Yuthoaz know perfectly well they would’ve beaten the Tenil Orugaray if the gods hadn’t taken a hand. They’re here now, by Storm’s invitation, because they make better warriors. It’s fine to call a council and set up a king. But how do we escape a kingdom made up of master and serf?
Does Storm even want to?
No! Stop that!
He had been so lost in his brown study that he was almost to the pool before he saw what was going on. And they – seven young men and a girl from the village – were so intent that they hadn’t seen him coming.
She was stretched on the boulder from which tools were cast as offerings. While his companions stood by with mistletoe in their hands, the seventh man raised a flint knife above her breast.
‘What the hell!’ Lockridge bellowed.
He dashed toward them. They scattered back. When they saw who he was, fear turned them less than human, they groveled on the earth while the girl came piecemeal from her trance.
Lockridge controlled his stomach and said in his deepest voice: ‘By Her name, I demand confession of your misdeeds.’
&n
bsp; He got it, in stammerings and pleadings. Some of the details were left out, but he could fill those in for himself.
‘Goddess’ was no good translation of the word for what She was in this culture. The Japanese kami came nearer: any supernatural being, from this rock, or the tree whose pardon one asked before felling it, to the vast vague Powers that dominated the elements. Dominated, not controlled. There was no formal theology, no separation of the magical and the divine; all things had some mystical strength. He, Lockridge, had a frightful amount. Withucar could be his friend, but that was because Withucar did not expect the magic to be unleashed against himself. Auri, less fortunate, had no one at all who felt easy in her presence.
These of the kindly Tenil Orugaray saw their country invaded by Her will. They could have escaped to Flanders or England, as some had already done, but the instinct of homeland was too deep in them. Instead, they would try to raise powers against Her. They had heard tales of human sacrifice among the inland people, and knew those inlanders were still free—
‘Go home, Lockridge said. ‘I call no ill down on you. I will not tell Her about this. Better times are coming. That I swear.’
They crawled off. When they had gotten some distance, they ran. Lockridge sprang into the pool and washed himself savagely.
He did not return till after sunset. The weather had thickened, a rack of clouds blew from the sea, bringing cold and an early dusk. None were abroad in the village, and skins across the doorways shut him out.
Whatever his feelings, a man must eat, and Lockridge was bumming off the house which had been Echegon’s. He walked into a stillness. Smoke stung his eyes, shadows filled the corners and crowded close around the wan flicker in the firepit. Auri’s kin sat as if waiting for him: her mother the widow, who tonight reminded him of that woman who sheltered him from Istar’s hounds; her few remaining small half brothers; her aunt and uncle, plain fisher folk who watched him out of an absolute withdrawal; their own children, some asleep, some so far grown that they were still awake to cower from him. ‘Where is Auri?’ Lockridge asked.
Her mother pointed to a dais. Wheaten hair spilled across the deerskin blanket. ‘She wore herself out weeping. Must I rouse her?’
‘No.’ Lockridge looked from face to shut and careful face. ‘What is the matter?’
‘Surely you know,’ her mother said, without even accusing him.
‘I don’t. Tell me!’ The fire jumped momentarily high, so its light played over Auri’s form. She slept with thumb inside fist, like a troubled child. ‘I want to help,’ he groped.
‘Oh. Yes, you were ever her friend. But what’s best for her?’ the mother appealed. ‘We cannot be sure. We are only earth-dwellers.’
‘Nor am I more,’ Lockridge said, and wished they would believe him.
‘Well, then. This afternoon came that Yutho chief called Withucar and asked that she be his … what is their word?’
‘Wife,’ Lockridge said. He remembered that Withucar had three.
‘Yes. His alone. A kind of slave who must do his every bidding. Yet, well, you are wiser than us, and you know this man. He said we would all come under his protection. Is that true? This house has sore need of a guardian.’
Lockridge nodded. Protection has a price, he thought, but didn’t say so.
‘Auri refused him,’ the mother said wearily. ‘He answered that the Goddess had told him he could have her. Then she grew wild, and cried out for you. We calmed her a little and sought the Long House. The Goddess saw us, after a wait, and commanded Auri to join with Withucar. But they do such things differently among the Yuthoaz. It may not be until certain rites have taken place. So we brought her home. She raved of killing herself, or taking a boat alone – that would be the same thing – but at last she slept. What do you think?’
‘I will speak to the Goddess,’ Lockridge said unevenly.
‘Thank you, I do not know myself what is best. She would be unfree with him, but are we not unfree already? And The Storm has commanded. Yet Auri could never gladly spend her life in such narrow streams. Perhaps you can tell her it’s best.’
‘Or get her released,’ Lockridge said. ‘I will go at once.’
‘Do you not first wish food?’
‘No, I am not hungry.’ He dropped the curtain behind him.
The village was very dark. He must fumble his way to the Long House. The Yutho sentries let him through without argument.
Inside, the globes still glowed. Storm sat alone at the control board of a psychocomputer. In this heated place she wore a very brief tunic, but he looked upon her without desire. She turned about, laughed, and stretched. ‘So soon, Malcolm? Well, I’m tired of extrapolating trends. The data are mostly guesswork anyhow.’
‘Look,’ he began, ‘we’ve got to talk.’
Her mirth went away and she sat quite still.
‘We’re goin’ about this project wrong,’ he said. ‘I figured the original people here would get reconciled to the new arrangements. But instead, while I was away, things went from bad to worse.’
‘You certainly can switch moods in a hurry,’ she said, chill of tone. ‘Be more specific. You mean that friction between the tribes has increased. What did you expect? What am I supposed to do, disown my good Yutho allies?’
‘No, just take them down a peg or two.’
‘Malcolm, my dear,’ Storm said more gently, ‘we haven’t come to build a utopia. That’s an impossible task anyway. What we are concerned with is the creation of strength. And that means favoring those who have the potential of being strong. Before you get too self-righteous, ask if the dwellers on Eniwetok will really want to be moved, to make room for your country’s nuclear tests. We can try to minimize the pain we inflict, but someone who refuses to inflict any has no business in this world.’
Lockridge drew back his shoulders and said, ‘Okay, you can outargue me whenever—’
Storm rose. Her look was shameless and enchanting. ‘Especially in one way,’ she said.
‘No, wait, damn it!’ Lockridge protested. ‘Maybe we do have to be bastards, we humans. But not without any qualification. A man’s got to stand by his friends, at least. Auri’s a friend of mine.’
Storm halted. A while she stood motionless, then ran fingers down a night-black lock and said softly, ‘Yes, her. I thought you’d raise the question. Go on.’
‘Well, uh, well, she doesn’t want to be in Withucar’s harem.’
‘Is he a bad man?’
‘No. But—’
‘Do you want her to remain single: knowing how unnatural that makes her here?’
‘No, no, no —’
‘Is anyone else available to her?’
‘Well—’
‘Unless, perhaps, yourself.’ Storm growled.
‘Oh, good God!’ Lockridge said. ‘You know I – you and me—’
‘Don’t set yourself too high, my man. But as for this wench. If the races are to become one, there have to be unions. Marriage is too strong an institution for the Battle Ax people to give up; therefore the Sea People will have to accept it. Auri is the heiress of this community’s leadership, Withucar is as influential as any in his tribe. Both in practice and as an example, nothing better could happen than their marriage. Of course she threw a fit. Are you so ignorant you think she will never console herself? Nor love her children by him? Nor forget you?’
‘Well, though – I mean, she deserves a free choice.’
‘Who is there for her to choose, except you who don’t want her? Nor would it help the purpose if you did. You came in complaining of unhappiness among the villagers. The English are going to be still unhappier after the Norman Conquest. But a few centuries later, there are no Normans. Everyone is an Englishman. For us, here and now, that same process begins with Auri and Withucar. Don’t talk to me about free choice … unless you think every war should only be fought by volunteers.’
Lockridge stood helpless. Storm came to him and put her arms about his neck. ‘I be
lieve Auri, in her childish way, calls you Lynx,’ she murmured. ‘I would like to do that.’
‘Aw – look—’
She rubbed her head on his breast. ‘Let me be childish now and then, with you.’
A Yutho voice called from behind the curtain: ‘Goddess, the lord Hu asks to come in.’
‘Damn!’ Storm whispered. ‘I’ll get rid of him as fast as I can.’ Aloud: ‘Let him enter.’
Spare and lithe in his green uniform, Hu trod in to bow. ‘I beg your forgiveness, brilliance,’ he said. ‘But I was out on an aerial sweep.’
Storm tautened. ‘Well?’
‘Most likely this means nothing. Still, I saw a considerable fleet beating across the North Sea. The lead ship is Iberian, the rest are skin boats. I never heard of such a combination. They’re plainly bound from England to Denmark.’
‘At this season?’ Awareness of Lockridge drained from Storm. She let him go and stood alone in the frigid light.
‘Yes, that’s another paradox, brilliance,’ Hu said. ‘I couldn’t detect advanced equipment. If they have any, it must be negligible. But they will be here in a day or two.’
‘Some Ranger operation? Or a mere local adventure? These are times when the natives themselves look to new things.’ Storm frowned. ‘Best I go glance at them myself.’
She fetched her gravity belt and fastened it about her waist, an energy pistol at the hip. ‘You may as well stay and rest, Malcolm. I won’t be gone long,’ she said and left beside Hu.
For some time Lockridge prowled the hall. The night was noisy with wind, but he heard a thrusting inner silence. And the gods so clumsily and tenderly hacked out of the pillars –did they look at him? Lord, Lord, he thought, what does a guy do when he can’t help somebody who cares for him?
The Corridors of Time Page 18
