Chapter 10

“Of course. Every adult should be able to come to the defence of the tribe, in an emergency. We don’t have a police force or an army to call on.” His face lit up. “!I just realised what these are, and I didn’t before. Hey, this is great.”

“Great in what way?” Vickie was unsure what he meant.

“Our memories, Vickie. Slowly, our memories are starting to recover. Very slowly, I admit, but really happening. Sheila has remembered things I haven’t, and vice versa, so you might recall other things, and between us we can piece together what happened to us, assuming we have enough memories to find.”

“I see. That could be interesting. But John, if we can’t go back, what good will remembering what happened to us be? We can’t do anything about it.”

“Perhaps not, but if we can remember facts and processes from before, we can introduce new things to this society to help them: things like making soap, and making moccasins, and better spears, and antiseptic plant drugs, and whatever. Anything you can think of like that, Vickie, will be of help.”

“You mean, things like paper-making?”

“Exactly, and we can start writing things down for our descendents to make use of.”

Sheila jumped in, “Are you serious about your paper-making suggestion, Vickie?”

“Why, yes. I learned that as a child at school. It was great fun, making a watery solution of fibres and using a wire lattice to lift out the sheet of fibres which dried out into paper. Oh, damn. No metal, thus no wire for doing that.”

John laughed at her dismay.

“Vickie, you simply convert what you need into the available materials. Wire frame? Make it with animal sinew or tough plant fibres. You glue the ends to the wooden frame, and hey presto, a wire-style frame for paper making. So all you have to do is find the fibres to use for your process. Anything that can be bashed into string thin tiny fibres would do. What was used firs?”

“Cloth rags, then later it was wood pulp. As wood is just stiff plant fibre, any plant that has tough fibres would do. I think some special grass was used at one time, one that grows in seaside sand dunes.”

Vickie nodded, her memory confirming what John had said.

“I agree with your assessment, John dear. We should be able to adapt to the available materials. If Sheila is as good about plants as she claims, she should be able to point out the plants we need.”

Sheila said nothing, and John was looking around.

He remarked,”Where is Raka? I wanted to introduce her to you, Vickie. She is an interesting character, as Numa found out.”

Numa scowled at that reference, but told John, “She went back into the dark with an oil lamp. You can just see occasional burst of light from there when she turns in this direction.”

John took a glance, but could see nothing, until there was a brief flash of light, then a loud exclamation which he could hear above the general hubbub of the cave’s inhabitants.

He burst out, “What was that? Has Raka fallen or something?”

As the other women peered round, John stepped out smartly to go to where Raka was, to check on her.

He hurried into the darkened area, able to see enough from reflections from the walls to make his way to her. He found her staring at one wall, open-mouthed.

“What’s up, Raka? Are you all right?”

She turned and said, “Oh, it is you, John. Look what is here!” and pointed.

He took a glance at the wall, and got the shock of his life. There on the wall was an image, and not just a stone-age sketch. It was map, seemingly drawn by a mapmaker of his own time and place.

Okay, it was not in colour, being carved in stone, but all the symbols were recognisable if you knew what these markings represented. He touched Raka’s should to get her attention and indicated that he wanted to borrow the lamp. She handed it to him, and he held it closer to the wall map in front of him. It was clear enough for him to see what it was.

It was a map of this vicinity, centred on the cave.

The boundaries of the map appeared to be the streams and one river in the area. Within that boundary were marked the symbols for tree, the wavy lines of streams, and even the clearing outside could be discerned.

He was amazed, to the extent of not knowing what to think for a little while. Finally he was forced into a momentous decision, that the cave was not as natural as he had assumed. At least part of it must have some connection with the place he had come from. Dammit, perhaps the whole cave was a construct of his time and linked to this location at the same time. How else could a map of his time be emblazoned on a wall inside this cave?

There was no doubt it was aimed at him, for who else would be expected to be wandering back here in the dark, with a light? Raka was unusual in that respect. He himself would eventually have come back here, just to explore the limits of the cave, but Raka got here first.

The poor girl had no idea what this image was; just a vast expanse of squiggles and symbols of many kinds. He thought he should give her some explanation.

“Raka, my dear, this wonderful discovery of yours is a picture of what the world is like outside this cave; but the world as you would see it from above, like a bird. Call it a birds’ eye view of the ground.”

“These inscribed signs mean something?”

“Indeed they do, Raka. They are a picture from my time, written on the rock face instead of paper or hide. Paper is an artificial hide for writing on.”

“Is this what the outside looks like from above?”

“It is, but not as it is now just as it was when someone inscribed this picture, or map, on the walls.”

“But when did they come in here to do this work? It must have taken a long, long, time to make.” Raka was having difficulty accepting this.

“Raka, think of the cave being in two places at the same time: here and back in my old world. The person or persons who made this picture did it back there, and somehow the picture appears here as well. No-one needed to be here to draw it on the wall. It was simply moved to here, much as I and Sheila were moved to here.” He refrained from mentioning Vickie for now. Why complicate matters?

She stammered, “A magic picture, John? But what is it for?”

Bowing to the inevitable, he agreed, “Yes, you could call it a magic picture, Raka. We can use it to study what is at a greater distance form the cave, and it can be used to teach people about where this cave exists in the surrounding forest.”

“So this picture knows more about what is far off, than we do? That is magic indeed.”

“Not quite, my love. This is like a picture you might draw of an animal you saw at a distance. Your picture doesn’t know more; it is simply a record of what was there at that time. In the same way, a map shows how someone saw the land when he saw it at a certain time. The land might still be the same, or the land may have changed, or the river may have slightly altered its course. It is therefore an accurate picture of the land at that time., but a map can only represent what the situation was at the time it was drawn.”

“I see what you mean, John. It is a magic picture, but only magic in what it show of the land at a particular time. Does it change as the river changes?”

“The map does not change, just as the rock does not change, Raka. It is just rock with markings. Nothing will change.” then he paused and said carefully, “Nothing will change, I think; but if this is a result of something happening back where I came from, perhaps they have the ability to effect alterations: I just don’t know. Let’s just treat it as a wonder that we have discovered, and make use of it for ourselves.”

John, you are full of wonders, so I will accept what you say. I will temporarily abandon my search for a fairly flat surface for drawing on. Who knows what I might find instead!”

She took his hand and they walked back towards the better-lit part of the cave.

Talking with Numa later, he asked her who should be with him in the furs tonight.

She did not need much thought to reply, “You must demonstrate to your Vickie that you are now married to her, ceremony or not. Sheila should be missed out tonight, so as not to allow Vickie to feel jealous, but Raka is due a turn of your rod plunger. She was a little disturbed by what she found in the dark of the cave. You must show it ñ the image on the wall ñ to me before long, so I am aware of this ëmap’ thing. I must deprive myself also, so that you can show Gerva your loving. Can you manage these three?”

“I will do my best, Numa. Vickie may demand a lot from me, so we will see how that goes.”

As it turned out, Vickie was pathetically eager for sex with her John, and hardly noticed when he explained that after her, he had to make love to Raka and the young Gerva. She was more concerned with confirming that John’s loving was unchanged and still satisfied her needs.

When she finally lay back in the comfy furs, she sighed with relief, “That was fine, John. You are still as I remembered. I was worried that with all the changes, you had changed too.”

“I do my best, Vickie, dear. Now, over here is Raka, who insisted on marrying me recently. She could do with some physical reassurance; and then there is Gerva, who is a younger teen and wants to be sure that she can make me happy. Numa organised things this way. The pattern will be different on other days, so there will be nights you won’t be with me; but my love for you will burn just as brightly.”

“But you had forgotten me before I arrived,” she accused.

“Yes, but I had forgotten almost everything, my love. I had no idea whether I was single, married, or had children. Remembering my lovely and loving partner was just part of that overall failure, courtesy of whoever sent us here.”

“Well, I have you now, John. I don’t intend to lose you again.”

He kissed her to show his feelings, and apologised for having to share his love.

“Raka awaits, love. Stay with us if you would like. You can give her tips if you want to. The girls here are just learning there is more than just rear entry sex.”

“That could be interesting. We have never shared with any other woman before, I am certain, even if my memory can’t confirm that as a fact.”

“I know what you mean; feelings tell you things that your memory refuses to say. Ah, here is Raka. Time to get to know each other.”

He reached out to the naked teen who knelt beside him and asked him, meekly, “Is it all right, John? I didn’t know, with your new wife here.”

“Raka, it is fine. I have explained to Vickie, and as she is older and more experienced in the ways of women, she might be able to advise you on pleasuring a man, so she will stay with us for now.”

“Yes, John my husband. I am sorry, Vickie. I am not usually shy, but with a new woman who has had long knowledge of John, I am not so sure of myself. I will listen carefully to your advice, elder sister.”

Vickie smiled in the gloom. “You are welcome, sister.”

John was woken out of a sound sleep in the pile of three women, by a shout from the guard at the entrance just after dawn.

“Chief! You need to be here!”

John pushed aside his wives in his rush to get up, and grabbed his tunic to throw it on as fast as he could. In moments he was at the front, where Gomla was pointing out for him some activity down at the stream.

She whispered to him, “There are a group of men down there, gathering at the edge of the forest. I think they are wanderers, by the look of them, with spears, and that is not good news!”

John ës gaze took in the scene, and he swiftly came to the same conclusion. He scuttled back to collect his crossbow and bolts, and was back in moments, kneeling down to get a good stance for firing.

The men started to advance up the slope, so John called out, “STOP!”

The bunch faltered for a moment, and looked to one man for guidance. Getting no instruction to obey the shout, they continued their advance. John noted who it was that seemed to be in charge, and added in his loudest voice, “WHO IS YOUR LEADER?”

Again, it was the same man who they looked towards, so that gave John his target. When there was no response except a further advance, John took the initiative, and fired a bolt into the body of the leader.

The man staggered back, looked surprised, then collapsed on the grass and did not move except for the odd dying twitch. John watched to see what would happen next.

There was a shocked and panicked murmur among the men, then some quick discussion which John watched carefully. They seemed to be choosing a replacement leader, and as soon as one had been agreed on, he issued an instruction and they began to move again.

Taking this as an invitation, John repeated his attack against the new leader, and this one also collapsed, this time screaming in pain at the belly shot which John had delivered.

There was more confusion, as before, for no-one was sure what weapon had caused the collapse of the two men. They recognised that something had flashed towards them and hit their leader, but had no idea what the missile could have been. There was no long arrow or spear sticking out of either body.

As they began to argue among themselves, for no-one seemed to want to take over, John assumed the initiative again.

“RIGHT! WHO’S NEXT TO DIE?”

This caused an immediate retreat to the trees, as nobody wanted to die. Probably they hoped that someone else would volunteer to take charge, if the fool wanted to take the risk: being leader seemed to be a fatal elevation in these circumstances.

John waited to see what they would decide, and ignored a hurried discussion behind him. He had to concentrate on what he was facing on behalf of the tribe.

It took them a long while, but eventually one man stood out bravely from the trees and called out, “We want to talk.”

John made a strategic decision. He called back, “Meet me halfway between the stream and the cave. Bring no weapons.”

The man laid down his spear and started to move up the slope. John took off his bolt belt and laid down his crossbow, but made sure his dagger was tucked into his tunic, out of sight.

He stood up and ambled slowly down the grass towards the man, acting as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Behaving as if everything was under your control was a weapon in itself.

He arrived at the spot, and looked down at the shorter man. He instructed, “We will stand, for this should not take long. What do you want here? This is the territory of our tribe, and you were not invited.”

The man went to speak, stopped and gathered his courage to begin the negotiation.

“We are passing through, and found your place. Give us some supplies, and we will pass on.”

John glared at him haughtily.

“No. You were not passing through. You were attempting to attack, and this not a friendly act. You have invaded our territory and thus have no guest rights. Leave and we will not destroy you.”

The man was startled by this blatant assertiveness, then recovered.

“We are many, so you cannot resist us. Your women will suffer if you do.”

John laughed at him.

“Wanderer, you overestimate your group’s power and underestimate that of this tribe. You had better stop threatening us, and leave. You are beginning to annoy me.”

“Your power? We have not seen any of it except your magic flying stones. You are alone against us.” He happened to gaze over John’s shoulder at the cave, and immediately stiffened, then his face went white under the dirt on it.

John had no inkling of what had happened, but took advantage of the man’s obvious fear.

“I presume you carry a knife with you, always. Will you show me yours, and I will show you mine?”

Curious at this change of tack, the man pulled out his flint knife, and held it threateningly. John reached into his own tunic and extracted his survival knife with it’s long sharp blade.

The man gaped at this large and frightening weapon, then gulped at what he was facing. The comparison was revealing.

John announced, “I think I have had enough of this. It is time to conclude our debate. Do you have any captives with you? If I allow you to leave without destroying you, you must abandon your captives to us. We could use some extra slaves; unless you want to volunteer to be our slaves? You will be able to move away faster, unencumbered by these captives. Which is it?”

The man tried to bluster.

“How do you know we have captives, or how many?”

“Wanderers always collect captives, as we all know. I don’t need to be aware of the number, for I shall ask them if all were released, and if they say not all, or if some were killed instead of being released, then I shall have my warriors chase after you and kill you all. It is as simple as that. Do you want to live, die or become slaves? It is your decision.”

John kept his face determinedly haughty, behaving if all this was as he expected to be, and that his threat was real. As he watched the man, the new drum at the cave started to beat, and the cave made the deep sound stronger and more reverberating. John kept his face from betraying any surprise, and the delegate asked, “What is that noise?”

John shrugged as if it was unimportant.

“Oh, that is our war drum. It summons our tribal army, from wherever they happen to be at this time, in preparation to fight. The drum carries its message a long way, and more warriors will be arriving all the time, not that we need them all to deal with your small band of ruffians.

You have outstayed your welcome, wanderer, not that you were welcome in the first place. Will you agree to my terms, and leave, with your captives left behind?”

The man gulped, looked again up at the cave, and nodded.

“We will agree, if you guarantee not to come after us.”

“That guarantee assumes you leave behind, unharmed, all your captives. Try not to bump into any of our warriors as you leave; that could be dangerous.”

The man grudgingly accepted,

“Yes.”

John told him, “Then leave before the drum stops.”

“What if the drum stops?”

“That is the signal to attack, and I would then not hold out much hope for your survival.”

The man turned and scurried off to the trees, where his colleagues were waiting anxiously, casting glances at the cave.

John turned and walked slowly back up the slope, ignoring the men at the tree line, and lifting his eyes as he did so. This told him what had happened, and why the man had capitulated so quickly.

At the entrance to the cave was a long line of dark-coated warriors, each standing at attention, throwing spear grounded and pointing straight up. All were wearing masks with the fierce faces painted on, yet they were entirely silent and foreboding. They looked terrifying to any observer and that deliberate silence added to the overall impression of military power. He wondered who had organised this display of might. They looked great to John.

He continued walking upwards, and the two central warriors smartly stepped aside to create an opening for him to pass through. He went through with a pause, and the warriors stepped back into place with a sound.

John told the drummer, “Keep the drumbeat going, good and steady, for I told them that stopping was the signal to attack them. We shouldn’t need to attack, if all goes well.”

The drummer was Numa, so she kept up her drumbeat. “Tell Noma what is to happen; I need to concentrate on this.”

John asked aloud, “Noma?”

One of the warriors answered without moving, “Yes, my man?”

“The wanderers should be releasing their captives to us, in exchange for us not obliterating the wanderer band. Keep everyone standing as they are until the captives appear, then send a squad of three down to collect them, while the rest of you watch for any dirty tricks from the wanderers. You are doing great, girls; keep it up.”

John went inside and looked for adults not acting as warriors. There were not many, younger teenagers, and these were guarding the children. John realised that even Feelia and Deelia must be among the warrior line, and was even more impressed. He was amazed that so many masks had been ready for use.

He called to the young boys to come to him, and hunkered down to speak at their level.

“Boys, we may have visitors shortly, and they may need help, things like food and water, and a place to rest. Will you help the adults in any way you can, in fetching and carrying like a good warrior should?”

The delighted boys called out, “Yes, Chief! We will.”

John told them, “As soon as you see adults bringing in people, ask your adults what you should do to help. Tell them you are John’s junior squad.”

The boys went back to where they had been, but talking about what they might be asked to do. Some of the older ones were already checking what water was ready to be given out to visitors, and asking what food should be gathered for the newcomers. The surprised adults in charge glanced at John, who nodded to tell them that was fine.

Preparations got underway, and within a few minutes more a group of shocked-looking people, adults and children, were started to stream on to the grass on this side of the stream. A few of the more attentive ex-captives scooped up some water as they passed the stream then helped others in poorer condition to clamber up the slope.

Now, three of the warriors peeled off from the line and marched steadily in vertical file down one side of the clearing, checking for any lurkers in the trees as they did so. Finding none, they reached the freed captives and urged them up the slope, gesturing strongly with their spears and trying to only speak in gruff voices where words were necessary.

John told Numa he was going back to check that all had been freed, and walked towards the refugees. Reaching the first few, who seemed in better condition, he asked, “Have all the prisoners been freed? Are you sure of it?”

The released men ñ the first and strongest were all men ñ confirmed his assumption.

“Yes, we have all been freed. How did you do it? We were to be sold as slaves, they told us. They said you wanted us as slaves, but you are not acting that way.”

“The wanderers met a stronger force; that is all. Go up to the cave, where you will get help, food and water. Decide who will speak for your group, and I will talk to him later.”

John hurried down the slope, crossbow on his back, and looked to see who might need a helping hand. He noticed there were no old people, just young adults plus many children, and concluded that the group were the survivors of some raid.

He saw a bunch of pre-teen youngsters milling about at the water, the older ones carrying the younger ones across, piggy-back. He approved of this cooperative action, and as soon as the children were on dry land again, he told the older ones to take a hand of a younger one one to help him or her up the slope to the cave.

“Help is there for you: grown-ups who will care for you, children. My warriors are there to guard you from the bad men. I, your Chief, have spoken.”

The children were quick to react to the orders of this powerful Chief, and hurried to do as they had been told.

John observed a straggler, a hobbling teenage girl trying to cross the stream, tears streaming from her eyes. She was bruised about the face, and John marvelled at her fortitude in distress.

“Allow me to help, miss,” he begged, for he saw that she was afraid of men. “My wives would berate me if I failed to help you.”

The girl brightened at his words, and gave him a shy smile. “Thank you”, she murmured. It was all she dared say.

John asked if she was the last, and when she nodded that it was so, he offered an arm for her to hold herself upright as she started up the grassy slope. She accepted this assistance, for her foot was swollen, whether with an injury or infection he could not guess.