The Space Barbarians

by Mack Reynolds

  Robert sighed. “Very well, John. I shall approach him and represent you. However—”

  John said quickly, “He is over here in the tent.” He began to lead the way, his hand on the other’s arm, urgently. “He is in good mood. Perhaps… perhaps this time. Robert, offer him twenty horses, twenty cattle.”

  Robert looked at him in irritation. “You do not have twenty horses, John.”

  John said, “Don of the Claries is indebted to me. He will loan me the balance.”

  Robert was scowling unhappily. “I realize that you have twice saved the Clark clannsman’s life in raid, but he is a fellow phyletic. One does not take reward for such action when the other is a phyletic. It is not against the bann, but it is not seemly.”

  John sighed impatience and despair. “He is my blood companion. We are not kyn, but we have taken the oath of comradeship. All that is mine is his, and vice versa.”

  Robert grunted sourly. “The proof is there before us that he has the worst of the bargain, since you evidently won’t have anything in short order. Twenty horses! Two would be generous.” He added gruffly. “Don’t the Thompsons steal enough of our horses and cattle in their raids, that you have to offer them forty head, in all, in return for a lass? What is wrong with an Aberdeen lass? Why not have me approach the sachem of the Clarks or Fieldings? For two horses you could steal any girl in Aberdeen, you who are Raid Cacique of the Hawks before you have thirty years.”

  John shut his eyes in despair but said nothing and still hurried his chief along.

  They entered the tent, and John whispered, “There, up against the bar.” He dropped behind and let the sachem precede him.

  Robert, Sachem Of the Hawks, approached Will, Sachem (it the Thompsons, and said, “May the bards sing your exploits, Will of the Thompsons.”

  The other nodded. “And yours, Sachem of the Hawks.”

  “I would have a word with you.”

  John hurried over to the other side of the extensive tent and jerked his head at four Hawk clannsmen seated at a table. They looked up at him in half-drunken irritation.

  He said urgently, “The two sachems wish to confer. Robert speaks in my behalf.”

  The story was one with which his fellow clannsmen were familiar. Two of them looked at him in commiseration as they came to their feet. The other two, further gone in their cups, merely stumbled away, heading for the bar and alcoholic oblivion.

  The two sachems took chairs, and John stood anxiously to one side, not too near, though still able to hear. They ignored him. It was not against the bann for him to stand there as they talked, but it was mildly unseemly.

  Robert said formally, “I say the praises of my clannsman John of the Hawks.”

  But Will of the Thompsons raised a hand and shook his head. “I know your plea, but we need go no further. It is an impossible plea.”

  Robert said doggedly, “He is a young man, in his prime. Already, the bards have sung his exploits a dozen times and over.”

  “I know,” Will said wryly. “One time my name was involved. I was shamed.”

  Robert said quickly, “But all was resolved between our clanns at the next meeting of the Dail.”

  “I hold no bitterness. It would be against the bann for me to do so. However, the Claim Thompson would never consent to the stealing of Alice by a Hawk.”

  “He is already raid cacique of his clann, though still a comparative youth. He is highly regarded by the Keepers of the Faith and the bedels, since six times he has counted coup, rather than shed the blood. He offers twenty horses, twenty head of cattle.”

  “Twenty!” Will blurted, taken aback.

  The other nodded in disgust. “Given the opportunity, he would undoubtedly strip the clann of its little wealth for this single lass.”

  Will of the Thompsons looked over at the obviously miserable John but still shook his head. “I myself would be in favor, honorable Sachem of the Hawks. However, though I am sachem and my voice is respected in our clann musters, as you know, my vote is but one, and the great majority of the Thompsons, who have suffered much down through the years, have refused to become kyn to the Hawks through marriage. True kyn, we would not be of course, but still kyn through marriage. The Thompsons refuse to consider that one of theirs would produce Hawk clannsmen who would one day raid their herds and kill their clannsmen.”

  His voice slightly huffy, Robert said, “At each Dail, the deeds of violence of the year are wiped out by honorable consultation and balancing of accounts between the sachems. Why else should there be such an office as sachem? Since the misty years, indeed since the coming of the Holy Inverness Ark, the Keepers of the Faith have thus secured us. If such were not the bann, the vendettas would soon accumulate to such degree that all Caledonia would be depopulated. How is it, then, that the Clann Thompson refuses an honorable offer to have one of its unwed lasses stolen by a clannsman of the Hawks?”

  There was an apologetic aspect in the other’s face as he looked over at the anxious young clannsman in question, but he continued to shake his head. “It is not against the bann,” he said stubbornly. “Although all accounts are now balanced and we carry no blood feud with you, it is still up to us to decide, and the vote has been against it.”

  Robert snapped, “And the lass? I understand she is still unwed, though very comely. Why is it that the lass has not shown her preference for some clannsman of your Phylum of Caithness? Could it be that she wishes to be stolen by John?”

  Will looked at him coldly. “Do you think us so shameless in Caithness that we allow a lass to make such decisions?”

  “It is not a matter of being shameless. As all men know, though the full membership of a clann must needs decide by vote to whom a lass will become bride, still the lass is invariably consulted and her wishes almost always abided.

  Will took a deep breath. “I am sorry for John of the Hawks and bear him no ill will, but the Clann Thompson refuses to allow him to steal Alice for his bride.”

  Robert glowered at him in frustration. Finally he said, “As sachem, undoubtedly you are also a Keeper of the Faith. I ask that you look into the Holy books. All that is there, all about the holy chromosomes, the sacred nature of which has been lost to us since the misty years, urges that the clanns mix their blood. So it is that Hawk cannot marry Hawk, nor Thompson marry Thompson. Although it is not against the bann to marry within the phylum, so long as you steal your bride from another clann, still the Holy books urge that brides be stolen from other towns, so that the blood be even more widely mixed. Such is the teaching of the chromosomes, although we know not what chromosomes may be.”

  Will sighed, shook his head and came to his feet. “May the bards sing your exploits, Robert of the Hawks. However, it is impossible. There is not a family in the Clann Thompson but has lost close kyn to the raiding Hawks. Too much violence has transpired between us. And now, with all respect to the Sachem of the Hawks”—he looked over at John—“and to its raid cacique, I will repair to the bar and continue to enjoy the hospitality of Aberdeen.”

  He turned his back and walked away.

  Robert got up, approached John and put a hand on his shoulder. “I tried.”

  John nodded. He turned away and left the tent.

  He knew where to find her. The women of the Phylum of Caithness were famed for their handwoven textiles and, at each meeting of the Dail, erected several booths for bartering.

  Alice of the Thompsons must have seen him approaching even before he spotted her, since when he came up her face was already slightly flushed, as became a good lass being looked upon by the man who loved her.

  As he came up, she kept her eyes lowered and said, “May I interest you in this kilt material, Clannsman of the Hawks?”

  John said, “Ten years, Alice.”

  She put down the material and looked up, her own misery a reflection of his. “You appear well, John of the Hawks. The Holy has seen fit to preserve you through the, year since the last Dail, even though now you are
a raid cacique and subject to much danger.”

  “Yes,” he said. “And you look… well, Alice of the Thompsons.” He held his silence for a long time, merely looking at her. Finally, “I have had Robert, sachem of our clann, speak in my behalf to Will.”

  She said nothing but lowered her eyes again to the bolts of material on the improvised counter before them. One of her small hands went out and picked meaninglessly at a thread.

  He said, “It was as always before.”

  “I know.” Then suddenly, in a rush, “John, why do you not choose a lass of Aberdeen? It is hopeless. My people pride themselves on their sense of revengement. Even the bann does not prevent them from carrying spite beyond the assembly of the Dail.”

  He said, “And why do you not choose from among the young clannsmen of Caithness who clamor for the right to steal you as a bride?”

  There was no answer, but her flush had reappeared.

  A Thompson clannsman approached, his hand negligently on the hilt of his claidheammor, which was uncalled for at this, a meeting of the Dail of the Loch Confederation.

  He said, “Do you then speak to an unwed lass of the Thomspons, clannsman of the Hawks?”

  John looked at him emptily. “Only in passing, Clannsman,” he said. “No disrespect of the Clann Thompson is intended.” He turned and walked away, Alice looking after his tall, straight figure in misery.

  As he went, John heard the voice of one of the older Thompson women tending the booths. She was exclaiming, “But it is ridiculous. Someone has stolen from the bolt of Thompson kilt material! How could it be? The material is useless to any save a Thompson clannsman, and certainly a Thompson could never steal from a fellow clannsman. It is against the bann.”

  Another voice said, “You must have mislaid it. As you say, it is useless except to us Thompsons. Besides, stealing at a Dail is unheard of.”

  He headed for one of the men’s tents. John of the Hawks was not much of a drinking man, as Caledonian drinking men went, but he could think of nothing else for the immediate moment.

  However, the conch sounded then, and a crier went by calling, “The assembly of the Dail convenes! The Dail convenes!”

  John reversed his direction and headed for the temporary amphitheaterlike stands where the sachems and caciques were to be seated. His report on the spaceship from Beyond was sure to be early on the schedule, and he would have to be there with Robert of the Fieldings.

  On his way he saw Don of the Clarks and said to him from the side of his mouth, “You got it, eh?”

  Don grinned at him.

  John said, “Nobody spotted you? Nobody at all?”

  Don shook his head. “I took no chances. What a cry would have gone up, under the circumstances. The Keepers of the Faith would have howled for my kilts.”

  John grunted. He said, “Now the problem is to get someone who will sew them for us. Someone capable of keeping her mouth shut.”

  In mild indignation, Don said, “Sally, of course! My wife is a lass who is game for ought. And besides, she knows your woe and is as indebted to you as I am myself. It would be unseemly for her not to offer her services.”

  “She will not feel shamed? I would not shame the lass.”

  “Certainly not! It is a lark. Besides, no one will ever know.”

  “All right,” John said. “And the sooner the better. We would not want some sharp minded Thompson to think out the theft to its obvious conclusion.”

  Aberdeen did not possess a hall large enough to seat the assembled sachems and caciques of the Loch Confederation. Few towns in the confederation did. As an alternative, they had built a wooden stand on the heath outside the city walls. A half moon in shape, it reared six tiers of seats in height. Each sachem sat with his caciques, whose number differed in each clann. The office of sachem was permanent, in that the man elected to the position held the office for life, unless removed by majority vote, and upon his death, a new sachem was chosen. A cacique, however, was raised up to his position through deeds of merit or special abilities, and his chieftainship died with him.

  As Raid Cacique of the Hawks, John sat with his sachem, Robert, the agricultural cacique, the two caciques of the herds and the hunting cacique. Other clanns numbered more caciques, sometimes having as many as three raid caciques alone. It made no difference in the voting. Each clann had one vote, no matter the size or the number of its representatives to the Dail.

  When all were seated, phyla by phyla, Bertram of the Fowlers, eldest of all the bedels, open the meeting by saying the praise to the Holy. When he was through, he left the amphitheater and retreated to the ranks of the bedels and Keepers of the Faith, who stood nearest of all to the assembly of chiefs, even before the sagamores. Beyond the sagamores were the full clannsmen and behind them, the women. Children and clannless ones were not allowed to participate in the Dail.

  Thomas of the Polks, eldest of all sachems in the Loch Confederation, came to his feet and walked in dignity to the amphitheater’s center. He looked up at his fellow chiefs.

  “If there is no word of protest, the first matter to come before the Dail will be that of the strangers from Beyond. Since their advent was first here in Aberdeen, a decade and more past, I shall turn the rostrum over to Robert of the Hawks, senior sachem of the Aberdeen Phylum, if there is no word of protest.”

  He stood a moment in silence. No one spoke. Thomas of the Polks returned to his place on the lowest level of seats.

  Robert of the Hawks rose and took the speaker’s stand. He said, “If there is no word of protest, I shall call upon John, Raid Cacique of the Hawks, to address you, since he, of all the clannsmen of Aberdeen, has dealt most with the men from Beyond. If there is no word of protest.”

  He held silence for a moment, but no one spoke. Robert of the Hawks returned to his place, and John stepped out.

  It was the first time he had ever spoken at the assembly of the Dail, and John of the Hawks was a man of action, not of words. However, he looked up at them, all the most prominent men of the confederation, and said loudly, “I am of the opinion that these men from Beyond must be destroyed.”

  A sachem from Dumbarton called, “We do not ask your opinions, John of the Hawks. At least, not at this stage. We want solely facts.”

  John flushed and began to retort, but Thomas of the Polks said evenly, “He is correct. Tell us all that has transpired, and then we shall each have our word, they who would speak, and we shall each of us vote upon the course of action. If we reach agreement, then it shall be put to the vote of the total assembly, to ratify or not. Such is the way of the Dail, as each man knows. But now, John of the Hawks, tell us all of the men from Beyond.”

  And so he did, in detail, omitting not even such shameful things as the occasions upon which he had eavesdropped upon the strangers. Omitting not even that he had been stripped of his arms and made a woman of by the men from Beyond, who had left so that he had no way of clearing his name and the name of his clann by taking his revengement.

  He told everything of his experiences with the men of the exploratory ship Golden Hind and then took up his more recent expedition to the Revelation. There were stirrings of disbelief when he described the strange behavior of the clannsmen of Nairn, particularly those who had consented to tike the soma.

  He was interrupted here, which was unseemly but not difficult to comprehend in view of the startling nature of his disclosures.

  A sachem of the Edin Phylum called, “But you claim that this guru of the strangers, this self-named holy man, cured all of the black pox. Surely there is no illness on all Caledonia more fearsome than the pox. If such be their powers, why then did you begin your declamation with a demand that they be raided and destroyed? Surely the Holy smiles upon them.”

  John answered by turning and shouting to the Hawk contingent of clannsmen. “Robert of the Fieldings!”

  Robert came forth and walked toward them. He wore the kilt of a field worker, rather than that of the Fieldings, which was pas
sing strange at an assembly of the Dail. At a Dail, a clannsman was inclined to clothe himself in his proud best. Nor did Robert wear claidheammor or even skean.

  He was at his ease as he joined John of the Hawks, even though he was a simple clannsman before the ranking chiefs of his confederation and before the teeming thousands of the adult members, men and women, of the assembly.

  He smiled at John and, his voice mild but still carrying, said, “I am no longer Robert of the Fieldings but simply Robert, now that I have joined with the Lord Krishna.”

  A shocked hush fell.

  John, who had been through it all before, said, “You have renounced your clan and become a clannless one?”

  “There are no clanns before the Shrine of Kalkin. All humankind is one great clann. All are my brothers.”

  Thomas of the Polks, even his great dignity shaken by the unbelievable, came to his feet and began to speak.

  However, he was interrupted by the sounding of the conch and a crier shouting, “Strangers come! It is the men from Beyond!

  Chapter Three

  The newcomers could not have staged a better entrance had it been rehearsed. The craft, which later they named a skimmer, settled to the ground gently, between the amphitheater stand and the rows of bedels and sagamores.

  A sigh went through the great assembly, for all there knew that such a craft could not possibly float through the air, as they witnessed. Obviously, some great power, un-known on all Caledonia, was involved, and these from Beyond controlled powers unbeknown to the holiest bedel or Keeper of the Faith.

  Many eyes turned to the ranks of bedels, one for each clann represented at the Dail, But the faces of the bedels were blank; indeed, some went beyond blankness. Their expressions were of despair, for what can a speaker of a faith do when confronted by an obviously greater faith?

  The craft came to a halt, and an entry port appeared where there had seemed but a wall of metal. An orange robed figure issued forth, then turned to assist another behind him.

  John of the Hawks, standing side by side with Robert, once the most fearsome raider of the Clann Fielding, remained impassionate. He had not expected the others to arrive quite so soon, but he had known that the confrontation was inevitable.