Chapter 40

The former captive wondered, “Why would they be asked to attack their own men, sir? It does not make sense, surely!”

“It does to me, dear lady. Armies can be very nasty at times, just to make things happen the way they want them to happen.”

“But what could they want to happen, if they were killing their own men?”

“It is a weird military mindset that sacrificing a few men for a greater win later is worth doing. I would guess that they wanted to have the men die, apparently killed by the locals objecting to a food tribute. When the leaders have that excuse implemented, then they can attack the locals anywhere, with the claim that they are simply avenging their own slaughtered men. It would have no validity in truth, but there would be no-one to prove otherwise.

I think that the men tasked with this murderous attack didn’t like the thought of killing their colleagues, and went rogue instead. Killing and enslaving locals was fine by their peculiar reasoning, but killing their own colleagues was what they could not stomach. Odd type of reasoning, but believable all the same.”

“Thank you for explaining it, sir. It had me confused, I can tell you.”

John asked her, “That name you heard, Tarben? Are you certain that was the name; nothing similar to it, that you accepted as Tarben?”

“No, sir. It was unusual, as few of our men have names ending in -en, so it stuck in my mind.”

“That is good. I will take that for any future action I can take against the man, for he sounds a terrible person to be any sort of leader.

Pardon me if I don’t ask your name, but if ever I am asked about my source, I will be able to say, “I don’t know the person who heard it!”

“Thank you, sir. I will be happy to remain in the background; as long as you have the information and can act on it.”

“I will do my best for you I promise.”

“You don’t have to sir, for all these men are dead, and I am looked after in this village. I even have a man who is interested in me. Like me, he isn’t pretty, but he is a good man; and that is what counts.”

John patted her on the shoulder in farewell, and moved off. She went back into the shadows of the village. He never met her again.

He thought for a while as he made his way back to the cave. He now had two pieces of information to pass on to Awabee: The tale of an armed fleet off the coast somewhere, and the real fact of an invader leader who had tried to get his soldiers to kill a smaller group of soldiers to get an excuse to attack the natives more ferociously.

It was a fact which he was certain was true, but what reason would the leader have for causing a massacre, first of a few of his own men, then of a larger number of local inhabitants? Was he simply bloodthirsty, or was this a ploy to force his fellow leaders to get on with slaughtering the locals? What advantage would that give him as a result?

All John could imagine was a power play among leaders. If the man could start such a conflict, this would presumably undermine another leader or leaders who wanted more cooperation with the locals. Cooperation brings advantages such as food supplies, and even recruits if you were lucky. But conflict brings with it promotions and opportunities for further improvements in power. This Tarben obviously wanted to gain more power or promotion, or both. So far, there was no indication of his present level in the army structure. For that matter, the timing might mean that he was one of the fatal casualties of the recent attack on the leaders conference. Is it worth passing on his name to Duke Drago? Is it too soon to do so?

Would one of these snippets be sufficient to show willing, and if so, which one? Do we need to reinforce the idea of a land and sea military force; or is it better to sow discord by passing on the story of the attempt to instigate a massacre?

Toying with the two, he eventually came to the conclusion that as the massacre plan was much earlier, that could be passed on as a second or third hand story, with few details except the name Tarben. Let them investigate that one, John exulted to himself.

Now, how to pass on the message? He didn’t want to send one of his own tribe into harm’s way, in case the invaders tried to force more information out of the messenger, and he didn’t fancy fobbing off that threat to a member of another tribe like the fisherfolk.

He was still undecided about that question when he was greeted by a guard near the cave.

“Hello, High Chief! You are not as alert as you usually are; are you feeling all right?”

“Oh, hello, Gimla. I am physically okay; just absorbed in a question I cannot yet resolve. Forget it; I should be in a better mood to greet the rest of my family, mustn’t I?”

“That is so, my husband. Don’t think you can pass me without a kiss at a minimum!”

John smiled at her enthusiasm and kissed her sweet lips, fondling a breast as he did so. His eyebrows rose slightly.

“Are your breasts growing, my love?”

“Just a little, John. My pregnancy is not far enough along for me to be much bigger in the breasts, but it is nice to have you notice, with so many breasts to play with in the family.”

“No pregnancy sickness?”

“None; I am fortunate that way.”

“Well, I had better get up to the cave before Numa sends an army to collect me!”

Gimla giggled, and raised her spear as she shouted, “High Chief John has arrived!”

This caused a commotion as various wives came to the cave entrance to see him trudge up the slope. He was welcomed by them all, with Numa in the lead, demanding her due as both first wife and Chief of the tribe.

Numa kissed and cuddled him, saying, “You can tell me your story later, after you have kissed your other wives who all want to welcome you home. By the way, there is a trader visiting us. I sent him to the Farfarers first of all, then he will come back here.”

Traders! John felt the cartoon lightbulb go on over his head. Traders go round visiting all the tribes, so a trader can take a message to the invader camp. They would probably have to give him an inducement ñ a free pair of moccasins, for example; but that would be worth it to get the message through safely.

The threat of an armed fleet somewhere out to sea; that could wait until later, if additional pressure on the invaders was required. It helps to have prepared material to send.

John put that aside for now, as he wanted to get back to the store room and discover what else was inside it. If the packers were the terrorist group, as he suspected, then he would not be surprised to find more weapons of one sort or another. The question was, would the weapons be basic, such as bows and arrows, or high tech explosive material such as guns and bombs. The high-tech stuff would be negative in the long term, for the multiplier effect was only possible with basic weapons. High tech would not be reproducible, whereas bows and arrows would be, albeit in locally-sourced materials. I didn’t think we would be given sprung metal bows, but who knows? I might be wrong; those idiots got other things wrong, so why not that as well? We wouldn’t know all the answers until the room was emptied.

He went over to Numa for permission to go to the store room again. She looked at him askance.

“John my love, you need to adjust your priorities. Your wives need attention; more than simply a kiss and cuddle. You need to talk to them, and find out how they are feeling, and any item that causes them anxiety. Most of them have no major tasks, so they can feel abandoned if you don’t show them your true love.”

“But many of them were part of our attack group, and they did well,” he remonstrated.

“But did you tell all, individually? With women, it makes a difference.”

Taking this instruction to heart John made his way around the tribe, finding each of his wives in turn, and telling each of them that he wanted to know how there were feeling; was there something he could do for her, and generally cuddling and kissing to show how he himself was feeling towards her.

Several admitted to having pregnancy sickness, so John asked when it had started, with what frequency was it hitting her, and was it lessening through time? He did his best to commiserate with these girls. He was puzzled that they still had this problem, for he assumed the medical nanites would help; then it struck him. Pregnancy sickness was normal for many women as their bodies adjusted to pregnancy. It was not an ailment as such and so not in the category for nanite assistance.

Eventually John was able to make a short visit to the store room prior to mealtime. He hurried back onto the darkness with his oil lamp, and opened the door with his knife.

With plenty of light inside, he sidled past things that he had seen already, looking for new discoveries. Quickly he found a stash of gardening tools standing in open wooden boxes: a large number of spades, digging forks, shovels, tree branch loppers for up to two inch thick branches. There was also a two-handed saw for cutting thicker branches and smaller trees and a couple of axes.

To one side were several shelves hosting a fair number of missiles. At first, John assumed these were rockets for the LAW-80 he had hidden on the headland near the fisher village, but then he found three Milan-ER missile launchers. The missiles, when he checked their markings, were for the Milan launchers.

That settled the question. Only the terrorist group would be supplying such high-tech weapons. Could he have any concept of their use here, by himself or anyone else? The only possibility that he could imagine would be the merchants with their large vessels: if they had a conflict with any organisation that had similar large ships. He would have a chat with them at some point. He knew that the designation Milan-ER, meant extra range; in his memory, that meant up to 3000 metres. Now that he thought about that, 3,000 metres meant they could bombard a shore installation, or a close-packed army on the shore, from a ship near the land.

It was something to consider later.

Behind the gardening tools and equipment was an armoury, mostly semi-automatic rifles, and box upon box of ammunition; he could only guess at the total. There was also a gun cleaning kit, and boxes of combat knives on the shelves, but sitting on the floor were several large plastic crates with a label on the front.

Squatting down, he could read the label: Chlorine dioxide. He recognised the chemical, for he knew them as water purification tablets, such as he had used on SAS missions where water supplies would be less than optimal. This was a long-term supply, apparently. He could have done with them when he first arrived here. Why stick them at the back of the store, along with all these rifles and ammunition. If it was intended that he should forcibly take control of the local communities, then once again such weapons and ammunition should have been at the front of the store room.

Then it struck him. It was another example of the terrorists not thinking straight. They had decided what their priories were: guns and ammunition, and water purification tablets, and then stuck them inside first. It did not appear to have penetrated their skulls that what goes in first is last to come out. The missile launchers must have been an afterthought, or had come into their hands, so were shoved into the store.

Well, the weapons and ammunition can stay here for the foreseeable future he decided, unless there was an emergency that needed such massive firepower. The water purification tablets are worth bringing out for use if we have any doubts about the water in the stream. No use dumping the tablets in the stream; just collect the water, then add the tablets as appropriate. Vickie, Sheila and Jean can together make an assessment of water quality. The original inhabitants wouldn’t be able to tell, except by whether not the water tastes correct, and even then there was nothing they could do about it. Now we can.

He looked to see how the closed crate opened and resealed to prevent deterioration of the contents, and shortly had it open. Inside there were plastic bags of tablets, which meant that degradation of the chemical was unlikely to happen. He took out one pack for discussion with the ladies, then resealed the crate. According to the description on the pack, there were enough tablets inside to treat 90 litres of water. At that rate, the tablets would last quite a while, but not for long term use, so they would have to be careful about when they used them.

It occurred to him that the medical nanites should be able to counteract biological contamination of any sort, so perhaps it might be wide to offer them for use by the Farfarers tribe until the nanites spread through that tribe. John suddenly wondered whether the people who dosed him with the nanites were aware of the spreading effects. Mind you, the people producing the nanites that were being used by the terrorist cell, may not have been asked about long term effects on a population. In fact, if the terrorists had simply misappropriated the nanites, just as they did with the time machine, they most likely did not consider what effects there might be beyond their representative in the stone age. Such a scenario fitted in with what he now knew about them.

To John, long term effects were a game changer for the human population, for the nanites would spread by their own volition, and neither John nor anyone else had any means to control the spread. This would mean that many fewer people would die early from diseases and other avoidable ailments. He had no idea whether the medical nanites could assist with the healing of injuries, but he didn’t intend to test it out!

Another unanswerable question was whether the nanites could help with mental disorders. It might depend on the nanites seeing the problem as one which they were designed for, or not.

He gave up on his exploring and cogitating, and, after picking up the package of Chlorine dioxide tablets, made his way back to the daylit cave front.

He was met by Numa, who was waiting for him.

“John, come with me. We must talk.”

Curious, John went with her to her private section allocated to the Chief. She got him to sit, and told him, “Your latest recruit from your time has succumbed to your pheromones and wants to marry you, my love. Is this what you should do, or do have other plans for her, such as a concubine? After all, she was not very accommodating at first, wanting to return to her own time. It is impossible, as you have told me, but she did not show willing until your pheromones affected her.”

John spread his hands. “Everything you have just said is correct, my love, but I have to consider Jean’s well-being for the future. To leave her unsatisfied would be a form of torture ñ of the mind instead of the body. Again, a position as concubine tells her she is less than my wives, and you have seen that those girls that were at first concubines were changed to wives with your approval. From that past experience, I think we are forced into accepting her as a wife, and try to make her feel she is welcome, notwithstanding her earlier reluctance.”

“Very well. I agree that it is the only solution to avoid her feeling bad about us. You can speak to her later. There is another person, Harmo, a man from the ship rescues wanting to speak with you ñ or rather ëspeak with the Shaman”, so I think it is a shaman question: have fun with it!”

John was directed to the man, and adopted his Shaman persona.

“I understand you needed to talk to me about something, Harmo. How can I help?”

“Shaman, when I was a simple tribesman, I respected the earth Mother; did everything I could to keep her on side, but then these pirates arrived, and she did nothing to protect me in any way! I was devastated that I should be ignored. Can you explain what happened? Did I do something wrong? Is there no Earth Mother? Or does she not care about us? It is so overwhelming.”

John stared at the man with a feeling of compassion. This was a genuinely good person, seeking answers to a standard philosophy question. John knew what he had to say.

“As a Shaman, I have travelled across the boundaries between universes, between light and dark, between death and life, between the future and the past, between what is right and what is wrong, and the Earth Mother has spoken to me at times. She has given me some wisdom.

Tell me, my friend: Do you think the Earth Mother should control your every action, and everyone else’s actions? Think about that for a moment.”

The man did so, and was shocked.

“No, she cannot do that, for we would be mere slaves.”

“Exactly. So if she interferes with your day-to-day life, it is not much better, is it?”

“I suppose so.”

“That very thing is what you were expecting her to do. You must look at life in the longer term, as she does. The Earth Mother gives you a beautiful and productive world in which to live, and for every other thinking person to live and make their own decisions in life. We should be grateful, but not every human being is grateful for what they have around them; some always want more than what they already have.

It is up to all of us; you and them, to behave well towards each other. Now, if you don’t behave, is it her fault?”

“No, I agree with that reasoning.”

“So the same applies to the marauders not behaving well towards others. The Earth Mother however works in a subtle way, my friend. You and all the intended slaves were freed, and all the pirates were killed. That is justice, is it not?”

His eyes lit up. “You think the Earth Mother arranged for that to happen?”

“I think that the Earth Mother saw an opportunity for you and your fellow captives to be helped, and encouraged it in her own way, for she does not interfere directly. It may not always be possible for her to help things along so splendidly, but when there are occasions she can do so without causing ttoo much disruption, we should be grateful for that touch of love and mercy.

You were not abandoned by her. Your life was uprooted by other men, not by her. She did her bit in subtly trying to rectify the situation. Many died from the pirates’ actions when they attacked villages, it is true, but that was vicious action by stupid men, and was not controlled by the Earth Mother. It is up to us as individuals to do our best to prevent such inhumanity happening; and where it does, try to save the afflicted. We have to act to help the Earth Mother’s benevolent wishes come true.

That is what my Shaman side says to me, and to you.

Does that put you mind at rest, Harmo?”

The man leaned forward and gave John a relieved hug.

“Thank you, Shaman. Your wisdom is indeed great; thank the Earth Mother!”

John patted him on the shoulder. “Go and do your best to enjoy life as a free man. Bring up your children to learn the same truths: man cannot always be depended on, but the Earth Mother should never be imposed upon either. We shouldn’t expect Her to solve problems brought about by man. Man should solve his own problems, if at all possible. Farewell.”

The man took his farewell and departed; a lot happier.

Out of the side of his eye, John spotted Jean standing a few feet away, listening without obviously doing so. He raised an eyebrow to her, and she hurried over to him.

“John, that was brilliant! You would have been great as a psychiatrist, or even a clergyman. You could insert ëGod’ instead of Earth Mother, and it would still fit perfectly!”

John waved this praise aside. “Applied common sense; that is all it was, Jean. Chief Numa tells me you wanted to speak with me.”

“YesÖ wellÖ now that I have thought things over, I have decided that my best option is to allow you to marry me, as I can never get home again.”

John replied sharply, “No. That is not what you mean. If it is you are deluded. You are seriously influenced by my pheromones, and find that you have a need to be with me as a lover and as a wife. Do I tell the truth?”

Her face collapsed as she burst into tears. “No, IÖ IÖ Yes, dammit! I can’t get you out of my head. All I can think about is being with you; I don’t care how. Take me and make love to me, John. I need it.”

He continued to make her face the reality of now.

“It is not as easy as that, Jean, and I don’t want it to be. You will be my wife, and I will respect you just as I do with my other wives. I don’t want to simply have sex with you because you are forced by the pheromones into doing so. You and I are both greater than what nano-technology can make us. We can decide to get married, and make promises about our future partnership, and THEN we can indulge in procreation. You do want to have children, don’t you? I think that comes with the pheromones, but you still have to decide that from your own mental decision.”

She wiped her tears as she took in what he was saying. “So it is not just the pheromones affecting us both? You really do want to make it a proper marriage? I hadn’t expected that. Do your other wives get that kind of treatment?”

“They do. Numa was my first wife, and her younger sister Noma was added, originally because it was a local tradition of this era that a man owned his wife and daughters, and as their parents were now dead, I as their rescuer owned her and her sister when I destroyed their attackers. I turned that expectation of ownership into marriage, and introduced the concept that each person owned themselves, and that men and women should be treated equally as human beings, which is what you and I remember as the perceived normal in our society.

When we rescued three other girls soon afterwards, they informed me they would be treated as non-returnable as they would have been assumed to be already defiled by their kidnappers; and by that label non-marriageable. Numa then suggested taking them as concubines, and they started as that, but before long they were changed to marriage partners. I was not comfortable with concubines being lesser persons.

That is how I have treated them all since; as decent human beings. Vickie was my agreed girlfriend back in our own time, and once we had recognised each other here, marriage was a no-brainer choice.

Sheila was an oddity: back home, she was always sniping at other women and had a reputation as a bitch, for she saw them as competition for finding a man. Her attitude did not help her to find a man, either. Taken out of her environment and with loss of memory- you know what that is like ñ she changed, for there was no longer the same social conditions to encourage that behaviour. She has turned into a lovely and cooperative lady; and she and Vickie are now good friends, looking forward to being mothers together.

My recent wife is Maranga, Chief of the Farfarers Tribe. She had been the Wise Woman of their tribe, and after her brother, Chief Mongo, was killed by a rabid Shaman; well, one way and another, I persuaded her to become Chief, so that her tribe would be well looked after by someone who knew them all and cared about their future. It was she who asked me to give her a baby, but I insisted on marriage first.

I must warn you of another factor in our equation: Chief Mongo’s three surviving daughters had all been raped by the Shaman after he killed their father, elder brother and baby sister, so they were injured and traumatised by the events. We brought them here to recuperate. Rape in local tribal society degrades the victim, traditionally, making them unacceptable for marriage.

Their mother, Bertha, was also traumatised by the carnage she witnessed. Anyway, the eldest girl, knowing she was no longer an attractive proposition for marriage, asked if I would formally marry her in name only, to protect her from the social stigma. I have reluctantly agreed, but a real marriage instead, and not to happen until she is grown enough to be able to safely bear children. I don’t want one of my girls dying in childbirth; that would be so awful. After they discussed this with their mother, the younger two asked for the same treatment, and received their mother’s blessing. The same proviso applies: not until they are grown up enough to be safe for childbirth.

So you are entering a multi-woman family. You have to be able to live with that circumstance before we marry, or your life will feel miserable.”

“My God! By a quick count you are up to ten women married or going to marry you!”

“You are probably correct: I don’t count them as a group, as that would lessen their importance to me. They are all unique women, deserving of love and respect.”

“And you still want me, as well?”

“As Vickie and Sheila have probably told you, cultural background can be extremely important in cementing a marriage. I am the only choice of a male with a similar cultural background, and that should make it easier for you and I to get along. I hope it can also include love.”

“Kiss me, John. I want to see if your pheromones have converted me fully into a love-struck girl.”

John did so, and their lip lock went on for much longer than he expected. He refused to back off, leaving the decision to Jean.

At last she took her lips from his, saying, “Wow. I liked that.These pheromones are high-powered, John.”

“So it would seem. Fortunately the major effect comes from close propinquity, plus kissing and the sex act, or all the women of the tribe would inevitably be attracted to me, which would not be good for the tribe. You have been close enough for long enough to absorb the effect. It is not of my own making; it was imposed on me. I just enjoy the results.”

“Ah, well, I suppose I had better tell you a little more about me, John. While I don’t have an intact hymen any more, I remain an unsullied virgin; even at my age.”

“But no hymen? How?”

“All my training exercises, among other experiences. Athletics, riding, and the martial arts course I took all did their bit in tearing that piece of flesh. Does that disappoint you, John?”

“Not at all; just as it will be with the raped daughters of Chief Mongo. It is the person I will be making love to, not the virginal body. I intend to get to know these girls over the next few years, so that when I marry them we will feel as if we are long married, but without consummation till then. Medieval European nobility often married off their daughters as children to cement family alliances, and the girls ñ and the boys that were married to ñ had to wait for years until they matured into women, spending the remainder of their childhood among their husband’s family. With these girls, it is voluntary.”

“Aww, that sounds romantic. Are you truly a romantic at heart, John?”

“Vickie says I am, so I suppose she is right. Numa is more pragmatic. Loving a woman is much nicer than simply having sex with her. I expect for us to be together for many years, so being in love is so much more fulfilling.”

“Well, that kiss tells me that I am ready for marriage, and you say you want me; that will do.”

“Welcome to the family, Jean. Please inform Numa that you have agreed to marry me, and have her pass the word around. The bad news is: no engagement party or hen night; no show of presents ñ for there are none ñ and no fancy wedding: just a simple ceremony conducted by the Chief.”

Jean averred, “I get the notion: this is not the good old USA anymore; or even Kansas!”

“It may not even be geographically where the USA will be. Some of the indicators don’t fit for that location; but it may just be that the climate and other conditions in this time are not the same. I started off assuming it was within the US boundaries, because they had access to this cave in their own time but I have no idea where it might have been situated. World War Two nazis fled to South America, so the terrorist cell may have had links to the southern continent. I don’t think any of it matters to us, as all the links to home have now gone.”

Jean must have assumed that he was feeling down, for she leaned forward and gave him a hug, then lifted her face for another kiss. John obliged her, and enjoyed meeting her kiss with his own. It felt right, and so did the breasts that were pushing against him. He had not noticed them as large at all, but now they felt larger. He finally twigged that she had changed from her usual clothing to local leather wear.

“You have changed clothes,” He remarked with surprise. She snorted, “I had been wearing them since I arrived, and it was high time they were washed! And yes, that included my undies, so my breasts are unfettered now. Did you want to feel them?”

John chuckled. “This is a change from the uptight Senior Agent Morris of the FBI! I admit to liking the feel of your breasts against me, Jean, and I would love to play with them, but unfortunately this is not the time. I have more pressing tasks ahead.”

“Aww. You don’t know what you are missing, John,” she teased.

“I have a good idea, and I am missing them already,” he sighed. “But I have to go back and report to Numa, for she had not finished with me.”

“Okay. I am not going away, ever. I can wait.”

John left her and went back to Numa, who was with Vickie and Sheila.