Chapter 19

John smiled at the description.

“I shall take that as not being a friend. There is now a vacancy for a Shaman in that tribe if you know of an apprentice that is looking for a post.”

“But, what about the post of Leading Shaman? Are you not automatically taking it over?”

“Certainly not! There is no need for another bully to lord it over shamans. If you want my opinion, dispense with chants, spells, and incantations altogether. You can do the job of Shaman just as effectively without such flummery.”

“Flummery?” The shaman became alarmed at the term.

“Folderols, frippery, furbelow; any word like these. They are unneccessary flamboyant extras that do nothing for the patient except to make him feel frightened. You should aim at making the patient feel secure under your ministrations. A patient that feels good gets better quicker, I find. After all, your task is to help the tribe, not to make them fear you by your pretended magic spells.

I call it my bedside manner. Show confidence and your patient will absorb that confidence. He or she will also view you as a valued friend. Providing a good service with the right attitude on display is good for everyone, especially if you can get the local herbalist to work with you as your assistant. Much of your success, you should be aware, is due to the herbs and potions you use, so if the herbalist can make improvements to these drugs, both of you will see the benefits of cooperation.”

“You give me much to think on, Shaman. I will talk it over with our herbalist, as I see considerable worth in such cooperation.”

He said nothing about spells and similar incantations, for old traditions are hard to shake off, but the seeds of change had been sown in his mind.

The group moved on to the next tribe, where the welcome was not encouraging, but by this time John was walking on his own with little need for a rest, as most of the pain had departed. They were allowed time to rest and take water before moving on, but John asked if there was any interesting news to be had. The local Shaman shrugged, but said that an expected visitor had gone missing.

“Who is lost?” John enquired.

“The son of the Chief of another tribe. We were expecting him to come with a couple of surplus females, but none of them have appeared. A messenger from his father came looking for him.”

“A Chief’s son? There was a Shaman that I heard who talked of a Chief’s son being killed by stripies. Perhaps that was your missing man.”

“Could be. The Chief will be sad, but it means nothing to us. Was there any word of the females?”

“I understood the Shaman took them in hand, but he was on a long journey and gave them to another man. From then on, who knows?”

The local Shaman shrugged again; apparently his favourite response.

“They are gone, so no point in being concerned about their future. They were orphans, after all, so no-one to mourn them.”

John offered, “Our tribe is glad to accept orphans. We train them over the years to become useful to our tribe.”

“But that means years of feeding them with no immediate return; a waste of food and effort.”

“That all depends on your viewpoint. Do you have any orphans you need rid of?”

“Actually, three of them: a boy and two girls, all around twelve summers. The Chief dumped them on me for some reason; perhaps to encourage me to dispose of them. Do you want them? You can take them today, if you want.”

John pretended reluctance. “How about you show them to me, and I can see if they are worth feeding and training until they are adults? They may not fit my standards.”

John was taken to the Shaman’s hut. There, the children’s duties were in collecting and stacking in the hut firewood from the surrounding woods, some of it for the Chief’s hut, and breaking open some of the dry wood to get tinder material from inside. The tinder was packed within large dried leaves and tied into a compact bundle for the Shaman to give to the hunters and warriors when they went out on their duties for the tribe. These fire bundles made it easy to start a campfire at the end of a day.

John commented, “You have made good use of your little helpers, my friend. Do you feed them well, to help them to grow?”

“They get fed according to what wood they gather and how many bags of tinder they create. They soon learned to work hard.”

“Do you give them any useful learning, like weather lore or poisonous plants to avoid?”

“They learn that by themselves, or by talking with other children.”

“Ah, I see,” John remarked. “You are liable to lose them to a poison plant or in bad weather, if they are not made aware. We teach our own children all sorts of things, in order for them to be useful members of our tribe when they grow up. This is a disappointing start to our discussions.”

The Shaman grunted, non-committedly.

“Do you want them, or not? I can get other children to do this work, from families that have too many children to cope with.”

“Oh, I suppose I can take them on, to see if they can be changed. My wife can be responsible for them until we get home to our tribe. It is time she did something useful for me apart from the sex.”

The Shaman grinned at John, nodding his head enthusiastically.

“You know about women, Shaman John. They have their uses, eh?”

John pretended to agree, and called to the youngsters.

“Children! Get yourselves together for a journey. You are going with me and my women to a new tribe.”

The youngsters jumped to the task, not interested in anything except survival by obeying. The girls grabbed what clothes they had, and their makeshift dolls. The boy also had a doll equivalent, a bulkier one that he had carved from soft wood. It looked like a mother figure. John reckoned it was to help him remember his own dead mother, and felt a tear in his own eye. He remembered losing his own mother when he was a teenager; it was hard to take such a loss, and even worse if you were younger and more dependent on her.

Gruffly, he told the trio, “Follow me, and I will take you to your new temporary mothers; ladies that are with me.”

The children brightened up at this thought of a mother or even mothers, and gladly followed John back to the edge of the tribe where the others were waiting, having filled their water pouches after drinking their fill of fresh water from the stream.

Feelia opened her eyes wide and beamed. “Children! For us, John?”

John said to her and the others, “Orphans, unwanted by the tribe. We are taking them with us, to join our tribe if they can fit in.”

This got him a number of surprised looks, but John turned and bade goodbye to the local Shaman.

“Good-bye, my friend. I hope you fare well in the future.”

“Good luck with these little monsters, Shaman; you’ll need it.”

They set off without another word, and John stopped all conversation until they were far enough away along the trail to take a break. He leaned the bi-cycle against a tree before speaking.

“Ladies – and children, who should know they are welcome into our tribe – these children are orphans who were being used by the Shaman as effectively slave labour, without education or nurturing. I had to save them; I am sure you’ll agree.”

Jean placed a hand on his good arm.

“John, my husband, I would not have expected otherwise. You are a good man, and I think you will be a good father to our children, mine and those of your other wives. Feelia and Deelia, now, I can see that they feel the same about taking on these orphans, AND, the two older orphans we have already rescued. We musn’t forget them.” She looked around at them all, then concentrated on the orphan trio.

“Children, when we get to our tribe, you will have lots of mothers to cuddle you and love you: including you, young man. I can see you miss your mother; it is obvious, and I am pleased that you want to remember her. A mother is someone special, but so also is a loving father. For our journey, regard my husband John as your father for now. We will determine who your future mother and father will be when we get home, but you WILL have a mother and father for you to love and be loved by. That is the kind of tribe we have.”

John was astounded at how much Jean had changed from the uptight rule-bound FBI agent that had turned up so unexpectedly. Since accepting that she was stuck here, becoming his wife, and being injected with his nanites and suffused with his pheromones, she was now a new woman. She had become a fully-fledged part of their tribe, defending their ways and promoting them as well.

“Jean, thank you for your words of comfort for the children. I endorse them. Now, as my shoulder is feeling much better, why don’t we give the new children a ride on the basket? There is room enough for all three, and we can move much faster that way. The other two are rested.”

Jean saw the help that would bring in speeding their travel. She commandeered the boy first.

“Now, my boy ... Whatever is your name? You and the two girls have not been introduced by your names.”

The boy slowly thought about his name and said, “I am Rosano. The girls are Jana and Soma. I don’t know if they are sisters or what; we don’t get to talk much.”

Jean sighed. “A typical slave scenario; treat them as objects, not as people.”

She turned to speak to John, then changed her mind and swung her arms open wide to indicate the whole group for her speech.

“Ladies and gentleman, may I introduce you to three important people travelling with us? This young man is named Rosano. The two girls are Jana and Soma. Perhaps, girls, you would tell us which of you is which, to assist us in identifying you as individuals of note?”

Startled, the youngsters looked at each other, and one took on the lead role.

“My name is Soma, and I am ... twelve summers old, I think. This is my sister, Jana. We were born on the same day but I was born first, so I am older than her.”

Jean declared excitedly, “Twins! But clearly not identical twins. You are what we call fraternal twins, girls.”

Soma asked in confusion, “What is the difference, Mother?”

Being called Mother knocked Jean out of mental balance, but she stammered, “You have the same mother and father, but you came from two separate eggs inside your mother. People have eggs, just as birds do, but they stay inside the woman until the child is born. Identical twins come from only one egg that splits as it grows, and so are essentially the same. That is why they look identical, a word which means ‘exactly the same’. You look different because you came from two seperate eggs, but you are still close sisters, and so you are special wonders. Never forget how special you are.”

This brought a smile to the faces of both girls: they were different but special.

Jana contributed, “Mother died when we were born. Daddy, our father, thought it was our fault that she died, so he never showed us much love, except when he forgot it for a little while and cuddled us to him. Then last year he fell from a tree and was killed when he landed on his head, the adults said. That is why we are orphans.”

John told them, “You girls are what your Daddy had left of your mother, so he should have loved you for that reason alone. It is sad that he didn’t see that simple fact; that you are special girls, worthy of love. You will always be special girls to us, even when you grow up and become women.”

Jean was about to lift the youngsters into the basket, but remembered their other rescues.

“Now, Rosano, Soma and Jana, I have to introduce you to two other orphans. These two lovely young ladies are named Keela and Rava. They are much older than you, for they are women aged fourteen, whereas you three are just twelve, I think I was told. Ten summers plus two summers, is that right?”

She stared in enquiry at the trio, and got nods in reply, then volubly, “Yes, we are twelve, Mother,” announced Soma on behalf of all three. She aded, “Rosano is a little younger than us, but still is twelve summers.”

Jean declared, “Excellent! Now, just before we hoist you up for a fun ride, I have two important names myself, that can be used to speak with me. One is Mother and the other is Jean. Children get to call me Mother as a special treat, but grown-ups have to call me Jean; the poor souls. Mother is much more important.

This man, who is my husband, has lots and lots of names, depending on where he is and who he is speaking to. You will get to hear them all, eventually. Most important is Father, for he has children back at the tribe. They will get to call him by the friendly and family version of that, which is Daddy. Among grown-ups, he is either Chief – the leader of a tribe – or Shaman – the magic man of the tribe, or in some cases High Chief, which means he is responsible for helping look after several tribes. To me as my husband, he is just John, as I get to drop all his fancy titles when chatting with him.

So you see he is different things in different tribes. For now, you get to call him Father.”

With that over, she showed them the machine that had been trundled along the trail beside them.

“This is a transportation device, a carrying thing, and today we are going to transport three special people in the basket, one behind the other. Who gets the front place, looking ahead and facing the way we are going?”

The three glanced at each other, unsure of what being in the basket would mean. The girls settled on Rosano, and nominated him. He looked scared as he was hoisted by Jean and Deelia into the front section of the long basket. He became slightly less worried once Jana was tucked in behind him and held onto him, and then Soma was placed in the final third of the basket, holding on to Jana for stability. Rosano began to feel responsible for the girls, as he knew a man should.

Feelia and Deelia took on the role of side supporters and started the bi-cycle moving forward. The youngsters gripped the sides tightly, afraid they would be shaken off, but Feelia and Deelia whispered words of quiet certainty.

“You will be safe there, children.”

Within a short time, the youngsters were enjoying the new sensations of speed and motion. The speed was just a few extra miles per hour, yet for someone whose idea of speed was a brisk walk, this was fast. They got a feeling of danger, but danger that was under the control of the adults.

After a couple of miles, the girls wanted a chance at being at the front, so the machine was halted and the girls moved one place forward and Rosano took the rear position. He found he liked holding Soma in front of him.

A few more miles, and it was another switch for the second girl to be at the front, now the most exciting spot. At the next mealbreak, they all were glad to take a potty break as well. Jean now ordered that they walk for a while, for practice. John was by now back to almost normal, so he was walking well and keeping his eyes open for danger. At one point he heard what sounded like stripies attacking prey, so he advised everyone to move quietly and do not speak for a while. There did not seem to be any immeditate threat, but it made sense not to invite danger.

Arriving at another tribe, the group simply indicated that they were passing through, and were granted fresh water supplies and a quick bite to eat. John formally thanked them on behalf of his group, and they left without further comment.

Eventually they arrived at a split in the trail where they could take a direct route to the cave, or another longer route passing the fisher village. John anticipated taking the direct route, but Jean announced that she would like to see the village that supplied their fish, and where John had met the merchants on the Big Ship. All five orphans had never seen the sea, so they asked if they could go that way.

“Walking or riding?” he asked them, thinking that the almost-teens might like to ride again. The youngsters, though, saw a certain logic behind the question, and Soma suggested, “What if we rode for a little while, then walked the last part of the way to the fisher village, like we did that all the time and were not carried like babies?”

“Good suggestion,” declared John. “That is a clever thought. We don’t want to show off how we can use the machine to carry children, or all the children of the village will want a ride. We would never get away!”

He suddenly thought to himself, “That is amazing!These kids have had so many problems, yet can still see the solution to a problem before it happens. They are clever kids, so should be worth teaching.”

Jean had observed the same thing.

“Soma, that is very observant of you. Are you others as clever as her?”

Jana admitted, “Soma and myself are similar in that way, seeing the way people might react. I don’t know about Rosano.”

Rosano declared, “I don’t know if I am clever or not. How do you know if you are clever?”

Feelia told him, “Learning easily is a good sign. If you have trouble taking in new knowledge, you are not so clever, but if you find it easy, you are clever. That is what it boils down to. Have you learned a lot, Rosano?”

“I have had to. The Shaman would not feed us unless we managed to collect enough dry wood and make many kindling bags. That meant finding where we could get dry wood, so I worked out that underneath trees or bushes would be the best places to look, and to get kindling you need to find wood that had already rotted and dried, so that you can break it open easily to get to the soft dry stuff inside. The Shaman didn’t tell us how to do it, just what we had to collect, so we had to work it out by ourselves. Is that a sign of being clever?”

John smiled as he told the boy, “Working things out by yourself is indeed being clever, Rosano, but there are many ways of being clever. Some involve working with numbers, others working with people, another is making things if you can see how things and materials work, and so on. People can be clever in some ways and not in others; some have abilities in many ways. We have been trying to find out who among our tribe is good at art: making images of things that you can see by using colours on a fairly flat surface, or shaping wood or stone into an image. I noticed your doll looks like a mother. Did you make it, and is it meant to remind you of your own mother?”

“Not exactly, Father. I remember her for her comforting arms holding me safe, then at some time she was no long there. I don’t know what happened, just that she was gone. I thought it would be nice to make a thing like a doll that would look like my idea of a mother, and have that to keep my memories of her alive. Do you think it looks like a mother, as you say?”

“For a twelve-year-old boy, it is wonderful, Rosano.”

“Oh. I didn’t make it now. I carved it several years ago, using bits of flint that I found near the Maker’s work place. I tried holding the bit of flint, but it was awkward to use, so I stuck it into a short branch that had a cut in it, and used wood sap to hold it in position as best I could.

That didn’t work well, as the sap was too hard to hold the flint in place, so I softened it at the campfire, but some of it dripped down and landed among the black sticks...”

John helped him out, “The charcoal; that is what we call wood that has been burnt black.”

“Thanks, Father. I tried to hook out with another stick the melted sap that dropped on the charcoal, and I found that the sap that got mixed with charcoal made a stickier material, and I used that to fix the flint into the wood branch. This time, it stuck better when it cooled.

Then my flint worked better for carving, and I found some wood soft enough to cut into, and thick enough to make the mother shape. That is how I got my mother figure made. I liked it a lot, and still do.”

“So do I, Rosano. It is truly a work of art, especially as you made it when so young. We will see if you have a talent for making art, and if so you will have a career in our tribe.”

Rosano grinned broadly at the thought of having a career ahead of him, rather than simply surviving. In the last year or so, survival was uppermost in his mind.

The two girls admittted that they had got Rosano to make their dolls, and they were pleased with Rosano for making them.

Soma said, “I know that dolls are supposed to be for smaller children, but with no mother or father to care for us, the dolls were something for us to hold with love. Was that wrong?”

Jean was quick to reassure them.

“No, girls, you did the right thing. If you don’t have close relatives to give love to, your dolls deserve to replace them until you get new parents or a husband to love. I had my parents while I was away from home, but my childhood doll stayed with me and I cuddled it when I missed my Mum and Dad.”

Soma smiled at Jean, saying, “Thank you, Mother. You are a nice woman.”

John declared to the young people, “She is. We all try to be nice to each other, even if we don’t always succeed. Now, we had best get on our way if you want to see the sea before we get back home.”

Having taken the route that led to the fisher village, the youngsters had fun riding in the basket, with Rosano even falling asleep as they moved along a more even and sandy section of the track. John noted the smell of salt water ahead, and told Jean that they were near the coast, so she gave Rosano a shake to rouse him.

“Time to wake and prepare to walk, Rosano. Soma, Jana, are you ready to walk?”

All three agreed they were ready to get down to their feet, and the bi-cycle was tilted to one side and the children assisted to the ground. The stretched their limbs after the long time seated in the basket, but being young they were soon striding along while the older and healthier orphans took over balancing and pushing the machine along the track. They were pleased they could achieve this task, and the reduced weight on top made it easier for them. John checked that the rifles were still securely attached to the sides, and took his crossbow off to wear as a sign of him as a hunter.

They were heard by the child guards as they were emerging from the forest, and the local children were soon greeting John as an old friend.

“Chief John! Welcome back to the village. Who are these people you bring with you?”

“These are ladies from my village, and some new younger friends that we gathered on the way home. These two young women are Keela and Rava. Now you can say hello to the children: Rosano, Soma and Jana. The adults from my tribe will get introduced in the village to the Chief.”

The youngsters clustered round the three new children, telling them about the village and the fisher tribe that lived in it.

“You are lucky to be with Chief John. He is a powerful man with all sorts of magic knowledge.”

John reproved them. “Don’t make me out to be a magician, children. You know I have just learned more things than you do.”

The tallest boy looked crestfallen. “Awe, we was just being nice, letting them know you were a good man, Chief.”

“That’s all right, then, but don’t brag about my magic. It is best not to brag, as a good practice.”

“Yes, Chief.”

The youngster detailed two younger children, girls, to report back to the village about the visitors, then he and another boy acted as escorts for the party of visitors. He confided to Rosano, “I am training to be a fisherman. What do you plan to do when you are a man?”

Rosano thought for a minute, then admitted, “I am not sure, but Chief John thinks I might become a maker of art. Do you have such a person?”

“Not officially, but someone in the village makes pictures out of things like shells and stones, that sort of stuff. He is clever that way. I don’t know how he does it.”

“Perhaps he will show me; I am starting to learn. It will be a long time before I am a man.”

The two chatted as they walked, and Rosano learned about talking with children he did not know. It was strange at first, but he soon adapted, asking the other boy what a fisherman was. That set him off, and the rest of the way to the village was all about fish and boats and lines and hooks. Rosano was quite overwhelmed with information, but reckoned it was worth knowing.

The party arrived at the village, to be greeted by Mabana the Shaman, obviously looking forward to meeting John again. He clasped John in a strong hug.

“Welcome back, John. What have you been up to since you left us?”

“A great many things, Mabana, but first I have to introduce you to my companions. This beautiful lady is Jean, my wife. Jean, this strange man is Mabana, esteemed Shaman of this tribe.”

Jean and Mabana said hello. Jean was surprised that John was in such good terms with another Shaman.

John continued, “My accompanying warriors are Feelia and Deelia, who are sisters. They are valued friends as well as competent guards.”

Mabana nodded his respectful greeting to each woman.

Jean said to her husband, “John, does he know about me killing Primo?”

Mabana’s ears pricked up at the name, for he recognised it. John spread his hands in apology as he spoke to Mabana.

“Mabana, I have to report that my meeting with Leading Shaman Primo did not go well. He turned out to be a bully who thought his position was unassailable, and I questioned his ability. While my back was turned, he attacked me with a club, knocking me to the ground, My life was saved by Jean. She killed Primo in defence of me, as a good wife should. I spent several days healing from my injury, but I am now recovered. As a result, there is now no Leading Shaman, and as far as I am concerned, he should not be replaced, as he was not a good man and made our profession a feared and fearful one. It would be best if we all concentrated on being useful Shamans to our tribes, doing good rather than being spouters of doubtful spells and enchantments.”

Mabana listened intently then responded, “You have always spoken sense, John. I no longer depend on spells but concentrate on my treatments, making sure they work well. I will spread your advice to other shamans that I meet.”

“Thank you, old friend. Now let me introduce you to these young ladies that I rescued from Primo’s clutches: Keela and Rava. They are both recently become women, and have not been with a man. They have decided to come with us and join our tribe. The three youngsters are still children, orphaned and ill-used by adults who should have behaved better.

I took them from a shaman who treated them like slaves but was happy to get rid of them. We on the other hand will be glad to treat them as our children. Their names are Rosano, Soma and Jana.”

Mabana knew what John expected, and greeted them all by name, the two young women first then the three youngsters. They were all pleased to be recognised by a Shaman, an important man in any tribe, and beamed in response.

Mabana went on, “John, I should escort you to our headman for the formalities of a Chief meeting a Chief. The rest of your group can go to the campfire and get some food and drink if they need anything. Children always seem to be hungry, I find. I am looking forward to feeding my own children when they arrive.”

“You will be a good father, Mabana. I will go to the Headman and present myself; no need for you to present me, for he has met me before, and I know the way. Instead, please escort my wife and the rest of our group to their meal.”

Jean took his arm. “John, before you do that, let me remove your medical patch from your shoulder, as you claim it is fine.”

He grudgingly agreed and braced himself for the sticky patch to be stripped from his shoulder. Jean tried the edge she had looked under before, and it was still loose, so she gripped that edge and after testing the adhesion remaining, whipped the whole thing off in one swift tug. It came off smoothly, but John yelped at the sudden pain of its removal.

Jean looked at the exposed flesh and told him, “It is fine, John. The skin is looking great; no need for your complaint!”

He apologised for his yelp. “Medical Plasters always bothered me when they were taken off. The anticipation was probably worse than the event.”

John took himself to the Headman’s hut and asked to enter. The Headman saw who was at his doorway and courteously invited John inside.

“Chief John, this is an unexpected pleasure. I didn’t expect you back so soon. Are you here to cut down more large trees?”

“Not today, my friend. My young companions had never seen the sea, so wanted to view it and your village. I thought you would not object. I have left them with Shaman Mabana, to get something to eat. We have been travelling for several days while I was recuperating from an injury, and my wife and I have collected two young women without a tribe to call home, and also three children that I detached from a Shaman who didn’t see them as anything except mouths to feed. We will be feeding them from now on, and teaching them how to become useful adults in our tribe as they grow up.”

“So what about these trees?”

“I will return soon to cut down a few more of these mahogany trees for the sea merchants to collect some time.”