Chapter 32

The men reached ground level, and looked at each other before speaking to John again, acutely aware of the large and sharp knife still in his hand.

“Sir,” the leader, Tambo, started. “We are confused.” John glowered at them, and demanded, “Give me the truth, man. I can’t wait here all day while you prevaricate. You are both soldiers, by your bearing and general fitness, but you stink! When did you last wash?”

“First, sir, are you a soldier or not? That determines how much we can say about ourselves.”

“Truthfully, I WAS a soldier, but I departed from my army a long while ago. I am a normally peaceful man, leading my tribes in their development. Does that help you?”

“You mean, you were a deserter?” the man’s reaction was almost an appeal.

“Not quite, Tambo. My departure was on amicable terms, but I was finished with warfare for the time being. Killing is not the best solution to a disagreement. Unfortunately, warfare has reared its ugly head in this area, and I am preparing my warriors to resist any incursions. I will not have armies rampaging over the land where I live!” Tambo’s head jerked back at these words. “Armies? More than one?” John nodded. “Yes, There is one army to the south of here that has been encroaching on tribal territories a fair distance from our area, and now an opposing army in the north is gathering to repel them with some force. What I need to know is, from which of these armies have you come?”

“Our military is the only army we know of; the one to the south.”

“I see. That does not tell me what you are doing here, though. Explain yourselves, while I skin these pelts.” John ignored them and set about removing the attractive pelts from the dead stripies. The men’s attention was drawn back to these fierce predators that had been killed so rapidly and efficiently by this one man; this professional soldier, for that is how they saw him. No matter what he said to the contrary, they could see that he was a trained and competent soldier, probably an officer due to his decisiveness with them. He was a man who expected to be obeyed. They gave in.

“Sir, we are deserters from the army to the south. Several groups have vanished while out on missions, and we were afraid that they were being ambushed. We thought our unit was next to be sent out, so we decided to abscond for our own safety.”

“Several groups disappeared?” John asked. “Was one of them on the coast?”

“Yes, sir. That unit vanished entirely; not a shred of evidence of what happened to them.”

“I can tell you about that unit. They captured a merchant ship, then set about raiding up the coast to capture slaves for selling. They met a fishing village that was prepared for an attack, and arising from that, the entire unit is dead, to a man; no survivors. Your other units I cannot explain; perhaps they deserted.” The men stared at John and his casual indifference to the fate of a military unit from their army. He gave no indication that he was concerned for the future: this must be a man of power, given that he was not overly concerned over an army threatening his tribe. John decided to twist the screw tighter.

“I am also advised that your army’s leaders are squabbling over their next move. Some want to advance; others want to retreat; some want simply to return home. There is an old adage that a house divided against itself cannot stand. The same applies to armies: this one is destined to collapse into chaos.”

“What should we do, sir? Keep running away from them? What direction is best? And will that other army kill us if we meet it?” John placed a curved forefinger on his chin, in a pensive gesture. “That is difficult to determine, men. If they simply see you as army deserters, them might just kill you, or torture you first, to extract as much information as possible about your army and its units. Alternatively, they might welcome you into their ranks, but I wouldn’t count on that option!”

“So where could we go, to be safe? With your tribe?”

“Sorry, but no. My tribe is very particular about who gets to join, and you lads do not fit the criteria for acceptance. You have a few possible options. One is to move to one side, rather than straight ahead; the other is to contact some of your old comrades and pass on what you now know. It is up to yourselves, really.” By now John had skinned the three stripies nearby, and recovered the quarrels from the bodies. Now he turned to go back to the other one, for its pelt. The men stopped him for a moment, to ask, “Is the meat of these beasts edible? I assume you are not taking it?” John grimaced. “Edible if you don’t mind the terrible taste of the meat. Yuck!”

“Oh.” The men were unhappy at abandoning all the meat, but John’s reaction had put them off. John suggested, “You could simply hide in the trees you were in, and try spearing some of the scavengers that will turn up. I cannot guarantee the meat will taste any better, but ... perhaps.” He dug into his carry pouch, produced a bar of soap and handed it over.

“Here, take this as a present. It is soap, for washing yourselves clean. You stink so much that most beasts will steer clear of you. Wash with this soap, then rinse it all off afterwards, otherwise you will smell strongly of soap. That can be just as off-putting to the animals as your body odour.” With that, John loaded himself with the rolled pelts, and moved back to his last kill; where he started skinning it next. By the time he had finished, the two men had gone out of sight, presumably back the way they had come. John wondered if they had encountered the Farfarers in their travels. He rolled the final pelt, and next set about putting together a narrow man-pushed travois for the pelts. He could keep that on the move without too much effort till he got to the tribe. The pelts were not too heavy, but they were bulky; too much to carry safely. Once he was ready, he set off, pushing the bar of the travois, his spear tied on top of the rolled pelts, and his crossbow slung on his back. He had to stop for a rest a couple of times, but eventually reached the Farfarers entrance, and the guards on duty. He was at once recognised when he lifted his face to their sight.

“Ah, it is you, High Chief John. Can we give you a hand with that burden?” John gladly allowed them to take over, while they admired the pelts. While still rolled, they were clearly stripie furs, and that merited congratulations.

“That is amazing, Chief. Did you kill the entire pack by yourself, or did you have help?”

“On my own, unfortunately. I was lucky, for they were distracted by two smelly men that interested them. The men were treed during the whole encounter. Did the men happen to come by here?”

“No, sir. We have not had any strange men today. Anything you want to say about them?”

“They are deserters from the army down south of here. I would say, keep them out, for they would be nothing but trouble.”

“Thank you, Chief John. We will remember your advice, and pass it on to the next team on duty.” John accepted an offer from a young man standing nearby, of assistance with the pelts, and walked to the Chief’s hut with his teenage helper behind him. He rapped on the door jamb with his knuckle, and Maranga came to the door.

“Yes, what can I ... John!” That ended with him being dragged inside for a hug and kiss. He tried to extricate himself so that he could explain about his load outside, and she relented enough to listen to him.

“I killed a pack of stripies on the way here, so I brought the pelts along with me. There is a lad outside, holding them. Can you have someone see about curing them to preserve them, Maranga?”

“What do you think I am – Chief or something?” she laughed. “Of course I can deal with that. Do you want the pelts for taking back to your tribe?”

“Gosh, no. You can have them, to enhance your position as Chief, Maranga.” That got him another kiss, and a whispered “You have another child on the way, darling. It has been confirmed by the local medicine woman. I am actually going to be a mother!”

“A word of warning, Maranga: Any sign of problems, get in touch. Pregnancy can be more difficult for an older woman’s first baby, but we have a text on childbirth now, that we can refer to if you have any unusual symptoms.”

“Thank you, John. I will keep that in mind. Now let me see about these pelts.” She gave a shout to another hut, and a woman came out. Maranga ordered, “See to the pelts that this lad is carrying. They need to be cured. High Chief John killed them and has donated them to me as Chief.”

“Yes, Chief. I will see to it.” The woman gestured to the teenager to carry the rolls of pelt with her to the people who did the curing. Maranga next told John, “Brando has more bows prepared for you. He would like to know how many more you need for the present, as he wants to start training an archery squad here.” John smiled. “I actually have enough for now, as I am training an attack force and we have enough bows to equip them. That means there is no rush for more, so if Brando has volunteers to learn the bow and arrow, tell him he can go ahead. I take it no-one in this tribe has skill with the bow?”

“Experience, yes, a couple have that, but skill? I would not say so.”

“I suspected as much. I presume Brando is the most adept one.”

“Yes. He is so impressed at the capabilities of the weapon that he wants to equip all our warriors with them.”

“He is a good man. It is useful to have him on your side. Talking about sides, I have encountered several men from the invader army in the last few days. One was a spy, that I have sent back with false information, and the other two were deserters that I met not far from here; from the same army. I told them a few things about the strong army gathering to oppose their army. I am hoping that either they will take that back, to alert their friends, or spread it around as they wander. Either way, it suits my own planning.” Maranga stared at him and demanded, “What ARE you planning?”

“Oh, an attack on the invaders army, but just ignore that, my darling. It is unimportant to a tribal Chief.”

“You mean the opposing army has something to do with you?”

“Not quite. My attack is connected with the rumours I am spreading about the opposing army. It is a long, complicated, story, so let’s just leave it be. I am more interested in what you have been up to in my absence.” Maranga grinned. “Mostly fending off Brando with his ideas for improvements. He is quite taken with the possible uses of the wheel. He wants to talk with you about some of his experiments.”

“Experiments next? What has the man been doing?”

Unfortunately he has been listening to you. Every time you two get together, you talk about making things. The wheel is what excites him most.”

“I thought he already knew about the wheel?”

“About its existence, yes, but not about what you could do with a wheel. He thought a wheel would make dragging a barrier at the tribe’s entrance a lot easier.”

“That would be the case, provided you had the wheel in the right position, and a decent axle for it to run on.”

“Axles, next!” She sighed dramatically. “I’ll leave it to you men with your new ideas, to sort things out. Sorting out people in the tribe is much simpler, from my point of view.”

“Okay. I’ll take a walk over to his workshop when you and I have finished our chat. Tell me, how is Bertha getting on?”

“She comes and she goes, but generally she is coping well now. Knowing that her older daughters are safe has taken a burden off her shoulders. She just has to take a trip to visit them every so often, just to reassure herself that it is real. Then she comes back here to have me tell her that the Shaman is really dead and will never come back. Marla, our main tribal healer, tells me there is a lingering idea of magic associated with Shamans, so Bertha was worried that his malign spirit would still be around. I told her that I was certain that an evil person’s spirit was dragged to a dark hole and imprisoned forever, guarded by the Earth Mother.” John was relieved that there was no longer an underlying psychological illness.

“I had better go and have a chat with Brando, to see what he has been working on; if that is all right with you, my love.”

“Go on; you won’t be happy until you have talked mechanisms.” John headed in the direction of Brando’s workshop, nodding to a few people he recognised on the way there. They treated him with the respect due to the spouse of the Chief, but he was still surprised that his face was so well known. At Brando’s workshop, he was welcomed profusely.

“John! Great to see you again. I have so many things I want to show you, and get your opinion on.”

“Yes, Chief Maranga was telling me you have been experimenting.” Brando started to show John round, pointing out a number of half-built or fully-built devices, including a range of bows and a selection of arrows in a variety of woods and feathering. He paused where there were several wheels laid out.

“I certainly have been experimenting, especially with the wheel concept. I hadn’t realised it has so many possible uses. Just as a simple wheel for, say, a travois, it can be thick or thin, and the results from that variation are different! For example, if the wheel is too narrow, it is susceptible to breaking; it is just not robust enough for that task. However, if it is too wide, it is less effective in doing its job; too much rubbing between the woods used. I also found that if the wheel is wide, it is difficult to get it to move left or right.”

John nodded his understanding. “I can appreciate that, Brando. You want the minimum contact with the ground, and a wide wheel, almost a roller, has too much contact with the ground, so less effective at turning aside. It prefers to go straight on.”

“I get you. The trick must be to select a thickness that is robust, but without much contact with the ground. That sounds damn difficult.”

“Not really,” said John. “Have you noticed some large round nuts or hard fruit, in a ball shape?”

“Yes. So?”

“Try boring a hole through the centre, as a test example, and you will find that while it is fairly robust, very little of the edge touches the ground. Do the same in wood, but to a larger size: a big ball, about two hands across. That should give you a strong wheel, and the ability to swivel to left or right with ease.”

“Ah. That could be interesting. I would need a wood that carves easily, and does not split in lines.”

“Another possibility is to make the wheel in two pieces: identical half wheels. Make one half, then lay it down on another slice of wood; draw round the first one with burnt wood from the fire, then you can cut the second to match the first. You put them together to make a complete wheel, and fix them together with side straps fixed across the joint, held on with dowels. That plan is for where you can’t carve a whole large wheel with the available wood.”

“Good grief! You could make massive wheels that way; though why anyone would want such large wheels, I hate to think.” John smiled, and explained, If you make a box to hold things, and position it above the axle, the big wheels take a terrific load through the wheels, and with a couple of long handles coming out from the box, a man or an animal can pull quite a heavy load.”

“But you would have to fix the box securely, and the axle rotates between the wheels ... oh, the bottom of the box can be made with fixed wheels that the axle goes through, keeping the whole thing together. Brilliant!” Then his face fell. “Wouldn’t it be inclined to tip over, either front or backwards?”

“That is why you need the poles sticking out at the front, Brando. The person or animal would keep the cart box parallel with the ground, but when you are unloading it, you can release the shafts and let the box tip over and release the cargo. But a simpler device is a wheelbarrow. That requires a single wheel at the front, on an axle between two spokes. The spokes continue back into a box to hold things, and two handles sticking out backwards for a person to hold it steady. It is also easier to steer, with just one wheel that you can tilt to the side where you want to turn. It is different for two or more wheels.”

“Is there no other way of keeping a cart stable, John? It seems to me there must be a way.”

“You could make it a four-wheeled cart, using a longer box and two axles, but that only works if the track is wide enough for the two sets of wheels, and also you need to work out how to turn the direction of the wheels so that the cart can turn corners. You might have to put in a pair of circular pads above the front axle, to connect the axle to the box but allow the axle to turn. One plate should have a hole in the centre, and the other have a matching peg. That allows the one plate to turn on the other one.” Brando had a funny look on his face. “Interesting concept. It is almost as if you have seen such a thing.”

“I have seen pictures, Brando. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, and it is true at times.”

“You are talking about symbols on a rock face?”

“Not really. Such drawings are hard to make, unless you paint them, and then there are likely to wear away with bad weather. I am talking out the equivalent of the inside of tree bark.” Brando was not convinced. “But surely such bark is just as poor if exposed to the elements, and in addition it is flammable. That seems to be a worse choice.”

“Brando, all choices are a balance between various possibilities and needs. You can draw on bark more quickly that you can make a permanent record on rock, and it can also be carried with you. It can be rolled and protected from weather. Rock pictures are stuck in one place for ever.” A light went on in Brando’s eyes. “Like choosing which wood to use for bows or for arrows! Wood that is easy to carve might be too supple for the job of passing on power; while one that is perfect for firing arrows might be too easy to break after a little use. You choose between the various options to get the best overall material.”

“Exactly. It is the same with how you scribe a record for the future.”

“High Chief, you are always fascinating to talk with; your mind has many clever ideas within it.”

“So has yours, Brando. The difference is purely in the amount of background knowledge held. I have been blessed with much knowledge from my teachers.”

“Then you have become a teacher, yourself.” John dissembled, “Merely passing on what might be useful, Brando. I leave it to people like you to turn my musings into practical devices.” Brando turned this over in his head, and saw the argument. He nodded to himself.

“High Chief, must I continue to look for better wood for making bows, or should I keep to what I am using now, for simplicity’s sake?”

“What a question ... I think for deliveries to both tribes for now, keep with what already works. That should not stop you trying new woods until you find one that exceeds the power of the present one. You should always try to improve on what you know, without discarding what you already know works for you. That is how you make advances in technology.”

Brando absorbed this dictum, and decided to apply it generally.

“Yes, sir. I will do that.”

“Thanks, Brando. I should advise you to arm and train as many of your warriors as possible in the effective use of the bow and arrow. There is a possibility of an army coming this way, so it is best to be prepared.”

“Is there a timescale for this, sir?”

“No, nothing definite; just near future. If my plans come to fruition, there may be nothing to fear, but I would rather that both the tribes were trained in fighting with weapons, both men and women.”

“I shall take that as a general instruction, High Chief John, if you don’t mind. Do I take it that Chief Maranga knows?”

“Not as specific as that, Brando. If she asks, tell her that I gave you advice that you are following; that is all you should say. I don’t want her worrying unnecessarily. Training the warriors in your weapons in a natural thing to do; I am just asking for it to be speeded up, okay?”

“That suits me fine, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not directly. Is there any word on finding a new site for the camp?”

“I had a couple of men out checking various possibilities, High Chief, and nothing nearby fits exactly.”

“Well, going back to our discussion, is there any of the possibilities that will do, near enough to be acceptable?”

“Sorry, I should have thought of that. I’ll go back over their reports and see if we can select a site with enough essentials to fit our needs as a tribe.”

“Good man. I’ll leave it to you to work that out and tell Chief Maranga what conclusions you have come to.”

“Thank you, sir.” John said farewell to Brando, and took himself on a tour of the village, to check on the new defences. He was pleased to see that they were in place and the locals were using the temporary bridges over the defensive trenches. He asked the few locals he met, whether they had their spears in their hut, ready to repel intruders, and he was shown that they did in fact have them ready. He was pleased, and showed it in his congratulations. Finally, he got back to Maranga, to report his findings and see what she wanted of him. He stepped into her hut to pass on what he had found and seen and heard. She was happy with his good report, and that he and Brando were working well together.

“Brando is a good man,” she concluded. “His wife Garma speaks well of him. If only you were able to be as attentive to me, as Brando is to Garma; but you cannot be here all the time.” John told her, “The call of duty affects both of us, my darling wife. We just have to live with it.”

“Well, I would like to live with you a little more, John. Let’s try it out before you have to go back to your tribe. Pretend I am not already pregnant.” She grinned cheekily, as if she was a young teen instead of a mature woman.

“You have convinced me, my wife” John replied. “Can we be undisturbed for a while?”

“Certainly. If I close the door, that means do not disturb me.” John hurried to shut the door, and proceeded to demonstrate to her that his love was undiminished. Maranga was delighted and volubly satisfied with his ministrations, and they were lying back in the afterglow of lovemaking when there came a sharp knock at the door.

“Damn!” exclaimed Maranga. “I told them what the closed door meant, unless it was important. John, go see what they want, while I get dressed in my Chiefly garb. I can’t show up naked!” John climbed to his feet and strode over to the door. Calling through it, he demanded, “The Chief wants to know what you are here for!” A hesitant male voice offered, “Sir, the gate guard have two young men there, looking for the army that is coming against the invaders. Can you or the Chief sort them out, please?” John was staggered that such an occurrence was happening already. He did not expect representations to the anti-invader army for a while yet. He replied, “The Chief asks me to go speak to them, as she is still indisposed. I’ll be out in a minute.” He rushed back to Maranga, and whispered, “Army business. I said you asked me to go deal with it. I’ll report to you later, darling.” He slung on his clothing and armed himself before opening the door and exiting. A guard was standing there, spear in hand, and gave John what was intended to be a salute. John wondered who had introduced the salute, and simply acknowledged it and said, “Let’s go, my warrior.” The pair hurried to the front gate, and John thanked the Earth Mother that they hadn’t appeared at the back gate of the camp. That would have been awkward, to explain that the army was in the direction they had come from. Arriving at the main gate, John saw that two more guards were holding the visitors at the barricade, without opening it; quite correctly. His warrior called out to them, “High Chief John is here!” The guards closed in on the visitors, to show their efficiency. One said to them, “This is High Chief John, who is visiting. You are honoured that he is willing to speak to you.” John sidled round the end of the barricade, noticing how effective it seemed to be. The two visiting men looked alarmed at his approach, and one burst out, “Sir, we were sent by our tribe to get in contact with the army that is advancing to fight the invaders. They want to know what they can do to help, but they are afraid of what damage will be done to our tribe in the fighting. It is a terrible problem, but we are already suffering from the depredations of the invaders. They keep stealing our food, and our women, and they are trying to get our young men to join their army.”

“Ah,” said John. “That is why they have sent you lads; partly to seek help and partly to keep you out of the way of the invader army?”

“I didn’t think of it as that, sir, but that may be why were selected. They couldn’t send women to do the job, of course.” John glowered at them.

“In my tribe, we have women warriors that are as good as men in a fight, young man!”

“W ... women warriors? I have never heard of that.”

“Well, now you have. Additional, the Chief of this tribe is a woman.”

“The Chief is a woman?” he stammered. John said sternly, “You don’t have to repeat everything I say.”

“Sorry, sir. It was just the surprise.”

“You don’t think a woman could be Chief?”

“Umm ... It is not something I have encountered before, sir.”

“Well, there are at least two tribes where the Chief is a woman, so start changing your thinking.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now what exactly do you want?”

“Well, that depends on what we can do for them. Our tribe is willing to negotiate our help. They want to be assured that our tribe will not be harmed when the armies meet.”

“No.” John was adamant. The men were shocked. John explained his position.

“No, I cannot guarantee any such thing, for warfare has so many variables that nothing usually turns out the way you expect it to. Therefore, the army of resistance cannot promise specifics, only a promise to do what they can in that direction. I have been involved in such conflicts,, and know that this is true. I am reckoned as a local representative of the army of resistance, and I have been made aware of what might, or might not be possible as the armies start to interact. You will have to tell your tribe that unfortunate fact. As to what your tribe can do to assist the resistance army, I am not sure what the army will need at the time of the battle. There is a military axiom, that no plan survives contact with the enemy, and that tells you all; things change, and so no guarantees are possible. In general terms, civilians should take themselves away from the site of conflict, so that they don’t get in the way of weapons projected against the opposing forces. What kind of weapons have you seen so far?”

“Just spears and daggers, and a few hand axes. Some of the officers have whips – long rope-like things that hurt when the end hits you. That is what seems to happen, for we have seen invader soldiers being hit with a whip at times.”

“The officers were hitting their own men?” John sounded horrified. “Why would they do that?”

“We are not sure. They may want their soldiers to pass on this nastiness to us locals, or it is some sort of punishment for something; I don’t know what.”

“Are the officers of a different class from the men? I mean, in some way regard themselves as different?”

“Yes. The officers are either from a different tribe or a different race, or something, for they seem to regard their soldiers as lesser beings.”

“Interesting. The soldiers fight because they are forced to; not because they want to?”

“I get that impression, but some clearly enjoy fighting, and don’t need to be punished.”

“These are ones that your tribe needs to target; the bullies. These men are always bad news, so tell your tribe that when the invader forces start to worry about their safety, aim your spears at such bullies. The others will not be such a problem, I suspect, as long as they don’t fear for their safety. Tell them quietly that if there is a fight, they will be safe as long as they don’t attack the tribe. But, listen: you must adhere to this decision. You are making a promise to these men, so you have to keep it.”

“You think the army ... the army of the resistance, that army, will be coming soon?”

“Think, man! I am not the one who decides these things. If your hunters want to attack a herd of prey animals, they don’t work to a timetable. They wait until the herd is in the right position, and the other hunters are all in position to attack; only then will the attack begin. It is the same with warfare: attacks don’t happen until everyone is ready, so there is no pre-arranged timetable. Have patience, and wait for things to happen. You will recognise that major events are happening, so that is when your tribe can do its bit by disposing of the bullies. Now, that is enough for you to understand the situation. You have the overview of things, and you can take that back to your tribe. What is its name, anyway?”

“The Long Reach, sir.”