Chapter 6

“I had not looked that far ahead, Gereda. Come and you can meet Gerva.”

He led the younger man up the grass slope to the cave mouth. Before they had got even halfway, there was a cluster of women at the cave mouth to greet them. One was Gerva, and at the sight of her brother, she squealed in delight.

“Gereda! You are here! Welcome, big brother; did you come looking for me?”

“Gerva, my sweet little girl! Yes, I came searching for you, but John had already rescued you, he tells me.”

“Yes, my man saved me, Gomla and Gimla from the men who stole us. John is a wonderful man, and he has made me a woman.”

“He made you a woman? Ah, yes, I had heard that you were now his woman. How do you feel about him? What has he made you do?”

“Gereda, I am now ONE of the Chief’s women. He is special, is our Chief: he knows how to make a woman happy in the furs, and in his tribe a woman is as important as a man.”

Gereda looked annoyed. “Don’t be silly, Gerva. How can a woman be as important as a man?”

She turned his question on its head.

“Gereda, how can a woman NOT be as important as a man? Why should one be more important than the other? Can a man produce children without a woman? Who makes most of the meals? Who does most of the work in a tribe? Women!”

“This has always been the way, girl. Men have their own tasks and women have their tasks.”

“So? One man is a hunter, another is a shaman, another is a chief. One woman is a cook, another is a clothes maker, another is a child-rearer. All those are positions within a tribe, so why cannot all adults be equal to each other? That is what Chief John says.”

Gereda switched his attention to John, asking, “This is how you run your tribe? Giving equal status to all?”

Gomla jumped in to defend John. “Not quite, Gereda. All start as equal, but some earn greater status by what they do for the tribe; in what they do to help the tribe. Note that I did not say ‘for the chief’ or ‘for the elders’, who are all men by tradition. It is what is good for the TRIBE is what matters to Chief John. If you want to join our tribe, you have to accept this new rule, big brother of Gerva.”

Gerva beamed at what Gomla had said.

The shocked young man was forced to swiftly reconsider all his ideas on tribal tradition and its values. His understanding had just been undermined by his younger sister, who had become a woman, and attained a maturity he had never suspected. His expectations in life had never been very high, particularly since his parents had died from the coughing illness and left him responsible for Gerva.

His world had just been turned upside down.

He thought back to the Farfarers, and his girl back there. He could not marry her until he had earned the bride price set by the Chief. Was there a bride price in this tribe? He asked.

“Chief, is there a set bride price in this tribe?”

“A bride price? What is that?”

“It is a price you have to pay to the Chief to get his permission to marry your chosen woman.”

“What? A tax on marriage? Ridiculous! That is an unforgivable imposition on a young couple.”

“So, you don’t have any bride price in your tribe? If I bring my woman here, I can marry her without any payment?”

“Naturally. You have a chosen woman?”

“Yes. Back at the tribe. I will have to sneak in and smuggle her out again, if we can get past her parents.”

“Do her parents not object to the bride price you mention?”

“Not really. They think it is a symbol of how valuable their daughter is.”

“Really? Despite the fact that she is only valuable to the Chief, and they get nothing?”

“They don’t see it that way; after all, it is traditional.”

“But how long has it been traditional? How long has a rule or a tax to be in force before it becomes a tribal tradition and is therefore unquestioned?” John demanded.

Gereda was unsure of his facts. “Nothing to do with me, Chief. That is just how I found it.”

John was incensed at this injustice.

“It is time that such a so-called tradition was overthrown.”

“Perhaps, but how do you go about doing that? I am only one man, and not important at all.”

“Do you not have a tribal meeting where grievances are aired and discussed?”

“Meetings are only between the Chief and the Elders, including the shaman. No-one else has a say in decisions. That is the tradition.”

“Tradition again. How does tradition get changed then?”

“It doesn’t; that is why it is tradition.”

“Quite a set-up. The Chief and his male cronies set up rules that benefit them, then they become tradition; and tradition cannot be changed, as there is no mechanism to enact change. That sounds ripe for revolution, if there is no way to make changes without violence.”

“But there is a procedure for change. A Chief can be challenged to battle, and the winner becomes Chief.”

“I see. That seems to be a general tradition for all patriarchal tribes: violent overthrow of a Chief. What if the Elders and Shaman overrule the new Chief, and tell him the traditions must be upheld?”

“Why would they do that, Chief John?”

“Because they benefit as much as the Chief from the status quo: from the way things are now.”

“Status quo? What is that, please? I have never heard of that term.”

“Oh. It comes from another language entirely, just as the word status does. Ignore it.”

“But, Chief: How would the Elders and Shaman benefit?”

John told him, “Old-style politics: they are probably getting a cut of the income from such taxes. Why else would they always support the Chief? I bet that is what happens.”

“Now that I think about it, the Chief always gets backed by the Elders and the Shaman, in every dispute. You believe they are getting a share of the bride price payments?”

“I can’t envisage any other reason for always agreeing with the Chief.” John was clear about that; it seemed so obvious to him, but his knowledge of politics was greater than theirs.

Gereda was thoughtful. “It makes a lot of sense, now that I look back on it. None of the Elders struck me as altruistic; they were always keen on what would suit themselves. Getting a cut of the payments would be the sort of route they would take for their own benefit. Yes, I go along with you, Chief, but how do we counteract such a setup?”

John grinned. “How about accusing the Chief of keeping all the payments to himself, instead of using it to benefit the tribe?”

Gereda could not see the logic in that. “I don’t think that will work. The Chief just has to say that some of it goes to the Elders, so that will prove he IS actually sharing it out.”

John pointed out, “That would show that he was sharing it with them, but them only, and in secret. Why didn’t the Elders tell the tribe this was happening, and why they were keeping it in their own hands? The Chief’s admission simply compounds the problem for him. He is admitting that the elite get everything and the tribe gets nothing. Would you like to admit to such a state of affairs, Gereda, if you were the Chief?”

The man’s smile lit up his face. “Say, that is devilishly astute! Do you think we can make that happen?”

“Provided the Chief is as self-centred as I believe, then yes. If he was clever, he would say that what goes to the Elders is payment for their wise counsel to the Chief. The trick is to spring it on him when he is not prepared for the question. You need an occasion where the Chief is in front of the whole tribe, and bring it up unexpectedly. With a bit of luck, he will react without thinking too deeply, just to fend off the accusation against him.”

“An occasion, eh? How about a visit to the Farfarers tribe by the Chief of another tribe: that is to say, YOU, John?”

John was unprepared for this confrontation, and declared, “Why on Earth should I make a visit to your old tribe?”

“What if I went back, telling them that I met you on my travels, and suggested you visit? It would be a sensible idea, don’t you think?”

“You think I should just walk into the Farfarers tribal camp, on my own, unprotected?”

“John, you are not really unprotected. Your crossbow is a powerful talisman, and an effective weapon.”

“Nice thought, Gereda, but if I was attacked by a large group of warriors, I would not have the time to defend myself properly, and would be overwhelmed in the end.”

Gereda took on that objection, and amended his plan.

“The girls tell me you have been training them in weapons handling. How about they became an honour guard for you, all equipped with spears and clearly trained in how to use them?”

John was taken with this concept, and smiled, but it presented a timing problem.

“It would certainly be a shock: an honour guard of women. However, the ladies are at an early stage in weapons handling. They need a lot more practice to take on such a complicated procedure. They would need to be confident in facing up to former tribesmen as members of another tribe, and they would need special training in what an honour guard actually does for a Chief. It all takes time, Gereda.”

“Chief, I am not suggesting you do this tomorrow. It would be normal for me to have travelled a long way to find you, establish good relations, and then negotiate with you, in order to arrange a visit.”

“Okay, you have the basis for a plan, Gereda. Speak to Numa about it, for it would need at least four girls, possibly six, trained to act as a guard of honour.”

Smiling, Gereda went off to consult with John’s Chief Wife. After he had gone, Gerva sidled up to John, who raised an eyebrow in query. She spoke.

“What is Gereda up to, Chief?”

“He has plans to retrieve his girlfriend from the tribe, and he wants me to make an official visit, Chief to Chief, as a distraction. According to what he says, there is a bride price that every man has to pay to the Chief, in order to have permission to take a wife. Sounds to me more like a tax scam.”

“What is tax, John, and what is a scam?”

“Tax is when the leaders of a large group impose a payment on the population, to pay for central services provided to the population. A tax may, or may not, be applied as promised. Sometimes, the tax is not justified, but the facts are usually hard to prove. A scam is a word for a trick imposed on a person or group of people, normally leaving them worse off.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t know anything about that. It sounds like what men do to one another to avoid a fight. A man will promise the other man something, merely to get away, while not intending to fulfil that promise.”

“That is also a trick, but merely a subterfuge, like making an enemy group think you are taking your forces to a certain spot, while you take them to a different spot instead, to give you a better advantage. I would call such tricks strategy. A scam usually costs the victim some payment that they get nothing for. Your example is more like a scam, except that no payment is involved, and the man tricked can get back at the one who fooled him. Scams normally leave the scammer free, not being findable afterwards.”

“Thank you, my man. Can I come to your furs tonight, John?”

“Numa is the one who will say yes or no, Gerva, much as I would like that. Ask her, please.”

“I like what you do to me in the furs, John; that is why I would like to be with you again. It has nothing to do with my brother being here. Do you intend to let him join our tribe?”

“Much depends on whether he can accept that men and women are equal partners, but he made a suggestion to me that sounded like he was accepting of equality after thinking about it.”

Numa came running up to them. “John, Gerva’s brother says he wants you to visit the Farfarers Chief, and take a guard of spear bearers with you. What is the point of that?”

“Several different aspects, my love. One, we will be a major distraction, especially with female warriors guarding me. Two, the Chief can be asked a question about taxes, while his attention is on me. Three, Gereda wants to collect his woman and bring her back with us. Four, if the occasion merits, I might challenge the Chief to battle. If I win, I take over his tribe. Is that enough reasons?”

“And some! But have you thought that us girls might be recognised? I want to suggest that we wear something that will disguise our features. If all us girls look identical, we will not be recognised at all.”

John guffawed at an image in his mind. “You are not all the same size and shape either, my dear girl, but if you all wear the same tunics and a mask of some kind, it will indeed be difficult to identify you at all. After all, they won’t expect to see you as part of another tribe, and certainly not as warriors. Another tribe means other people, not the ones who left earlier.

What do you mean by facial coverings? Masks? Animal masks, perhaps?”

“I hadn’t thought that far, but any kind of mask, as long as our eyes can see clearly out of the mask, and we can breathe easily. It might be a human face carved out of light and easily shaped wood, as long as it was held securely in place, probably tied on with leather thongs. I think the mask should have a top part to it, to prevent the mask slipping down the face. The top part would make it stay on the head. Maybe the top part could be made with feathers sticking up, to make us appear taller?”

“I like your thinking, Numa. Why don’t you girls kick the idea around, for you know what materials are available, and what craft techniques you could use to manufacture the masks?”

“Me? You want me to be responsible for the masks?”

“Of course. You girls have talents that most men would not deign to learn. You are used to making things for family use, so why not masks? Just make sure that the expression looks ferocious, frightening, eh?”

Numa looked at her husband’s face, seeing the belief in her. She pulled herself up taller.

“Yes, husband. We will devise something suitable, but I wondered if you could devise longer spears that would appear more threatening? We might each have two spears: a short one for close fighting, and a long one for keeping enemies and animals at bay.”

“I like your thinking, Numa. I would be delighted to do so, but the difficulty is finding long straight wood to make them out of. You don’t have bamboo here, do you?”

“Bamboo? I have never heard the name. What does it look like?”

“It is a member of the grass family, but has strong woody stalks that grow straight up and these are hollow. That would be the best wood for making long spears.”

She furrowed her brows with thought. She worried at it, then came out with, “There is a wood such as you describe, that is used for making containers for water and such. Ihe stalks have a barrier inside at intervals, and if cut just below two barriers, then it becomes an open-topped container right away. You need very sharp knives of obsidian to cut through it. This is about the thickness of a hand, so too wide for a spear shaft, but perhaps there are thinner versions. We would need to look around, near where the thicker stuff is found, because all kinds of ... bamboo, you called it ... normally would like the same kind of growing places.”

John was interested. “These containers: if you cut below one joint, and above the next joint going up, you would get a sealed unit. You then would be able to make a couple of small holes through the top joint, almost a hand apart, and you would have a carrying container for water. You simply need a couple of wooden plugs to seal the holes.”

Numa wanted to understand his reasoning.

“Why two holes in the top? I would have thought one was enough.”

John smiled at the question. It allowed him to teach some basic hydraulics.

“When water comes out of the hole, air needs to enter to replace the water. With one hole, the air tries to get in as the water comes out, so the flow is not smooth. The second hole makes it easy for the air to enter, and thus the water flows out smoothly. If you think about it, getting the water in using one hole only, you have the problem in reverse, and the solution is the same.”

“Gosh. That is brilliant! How did you work that out, John?”

“I didn’t; I just knew it when I thought about it. Even the word hydraulics meant nothing to me until I talked about water flow; then I knew that word was about how water and other liquids move. It is most peculiar how my mind is working, Numa.”

“Then I will be happy that some things come to you like that. It is magic, my husband. Be happy with it.”

“The trouble is that it is not magic. It is an understanding of nature, of how water behaves. My mind tells me that someone once said that any advanced technology will be perceived as magic to those who don’t have that technology. I can see how that could be.” He stopped and thought about what he had just said.

“Magic! Demonstrate a new technology and it will be magic to them! I must tell Tarka that idea, to add to his collection of tricks.”

Numa just looked at him in amazement. “You say the funniest things, husband, but I love you all the same.”

“Thank you, Numa. I am equally astonished at how easy I find it to love you and the other girls.”

“On that point, John, can I tell you that I find all your women easy to get along with, much to my surprise. I thought some at least would be awkward sods such as we find back in the other tribe. Based on what I am finding, they can all become your wives when you eventually decide to elevate them to that position.”

“Talking about wives, Numa, when can we expect to eat? I am starting to get hungry.”

“It is all in hand, my hungry husband. Two of the girls are seeing to the cooking. You even have time to take me to our furs, and make me feel happy.”

John chuckled, “That I can manage, Numa.” and took her by the hand. Other members of the family looked on enviously as they stripped to be together. John pondered on how quickly the girls had made his new tunic, using one of the tiger pelts. He wondered what they used for sewing things together; possibly tough grass strips. He switched his mind from technology to lovemaking, which was more fun.

After the evening meal, John arranged for the defence of the cave while he was off to the top of the cliff to look for fires. He left at the first suggestion of twilight. When he at last got to the viewing point, he was disappointed.

In all of the view to the horizon, there was little to see, apart from a faint glow in the direction of the Farfarers tribal site, and a similar faint glow in another direction; probably another tribal encampment. It finally struck him that small campfires were completely obscured by trees. Whilst during daytime a column of smoke might mark a fire, at night there was no indication whatsoever, unless you were close to it.

He cursed his erroneous assumptions, and clambered carefully back down in the direction of the cave. He felt stupid, for he ought to have been able to work this out mentally. This showed that he should not assume that his extra knowledge made him more clever.

Clever is USING your brain effectively, not merely having data to hand when you needed it. Knowing how a weapon works is not the same as being adept at using that weapon. Such technical prowess takes practice and a degree of innate hand-eye coordination to get it right. If he had engaged his brain before climbing the route up the cliff, he could have saved himself a lot of effort.

Come to think of it, he asked himself, why am I so good with the crossbow? I was able to fire it at a target and be very accurate as soon as I came here, but you don’t achieve that ability without a lot a practice.

The only answer he could find was that he had learned how to use it in his previous life before arriving here. He was aware of these occasional flashes of knowledge or ability that he was unaware that he already possessed. These insights gave him some vague hints that he had come from somewhere more advanced that this place; but that was all they were: hints.

He was also confused at arriving here with a crossbow and bolts, but nothing else at all. What was the reason for that? Then there was Sheila, arriving only with a toilet bag which happened to contain two bars of toilet soap. Both the weapon and the soap were useful assets to own in this very basic civilisation, but you don’t anticipate taking over a world with one simple weapon and a couple of bars of soap!

He got to the cave mouth and announced his presence to the girl with the spear.

“Hi, Gimla. It is me, back down again. Anything to report?”

“Nothing, Chief. All is quiet.”

“That is how I like it, Gimla: quiet. Have you been practising your moves with the spear?”

“I have, John. I am getting good at it, if I can say so. Do you want to see me?”

“Not just now, young lady. I will want to see you practising with a mask on your face, to examine how well you perform with that restriction.”

“Oh, yes. Numa was talking abut that, earlier. Sheila asked how we would eat and drink with a mask on, so Numa is working on a design for a mask that leaves the mouth clear for eating and drinking with it still attached. She was talking a bout a mask made of skin that is painted to look like a stripie. Will we have to wear our masks for hours at a time, Chief?”