Chapter 26

John described the position of the smudge, which was now partly obscured by bad weather. “Can you see it?”

“Damn! There is a storm cloud getting in the way. No, we’ll have to wait until that storm moves on. It may have just been the early part of that storm creeping over the mountains.”

“Hmmm...” John was less certain about the cloud. “Isn’t the prevailing wind from the sea at this side and towards the mountains?”

“Well of course, but ... oh, I see what you mean. The storm shouldn’t be heading this way, just staying where it is or going more away from us. Odd.”

John remarked, “So is it a storm, or something else?”

“Oh ... you mean, an explosive mountain? I have heard tales of them, but always that they are away in the distance, too far to see. They don’t bother us here.”

“So, no visions about a smoking mountain, Cormoro?”

“Was I supposed to have? I have no idea about what they are, so I have nothing for my visions to be based on. Can you tell me what a smoking or explosive mountain is? Do you know something about them?”

John told him, “Sit down and I’ll explain about volcanoes, my friend.”

Cormoro made himself comfortable on the grass, and John expounded, “Imagine a fountain of water, shooting up from the ground. Now think of it as a fountain of rock that is so hot it runs like water and can kill you a blink of the eye; it is that hot.”

“Rock that is liquid? Can you get such a thing?”

“You can, but only deep down under the ground; deeper down a distance farther than you can walk along the ground surface in many days: that deep.”

“But if it is buried so deep, why isn’t it cold? It doesn’t make sense for it to be extremely hot.”

John sighed. It looked like he had to give a basic geology lesson.

“Let me tell you an important tale of how the whole world began, Coromoro. At first there was only the sun and a cloud of dust and rocks surrounding it. Our world, and others, came together by rocks and dust falling into each other, more and more over a long, long, period of time, and all the while that the world became larger, the resulting gravity – the power that pulls you down to the ground – became larger. That increasingly strong downward pull meant all the rock pressed down towards the centre of the world, and the pressure from that pulling made it turn into a ball of hot liquid, hotter than you could ever imagine.

So, the world started out as a ball of superhot rocks in a liquid form, like a giant raindrop made of molten rock. Over a huge length of time, much longer than you could ever imagine, the surface cooled down enough to form a hard crust on top; later that crust became thicker and thicker until it was as thick as the distance from here to the mountains.

With me, so far, Cormoro?”

“Yes, but it is a far-fetched tale. Curiously, it has its own structure, like it all fits together very well.”

“Well, to continue, the crust over the world cracked into sections, and the sections started moving about, pushed around by the heat coming from below. The word my people had for these thick slabs of rock was plates, like gigantic very thick leaves. These plates move very slowly, perhaps the width of a hand per summer, but this goes on for many many many generations in a continuous movement.

But what happens when two of these plates meet and collide like two hillsides hitting each other? What we discovered was that one plate slides under the other, going down into the molten rock below. This crash gives more heat below the other plate and some of the molten rock rises to the surface and spits itself out like a fountain. The molten rock - we call it lava - falls down around the fountain and goes hard as it cools, leaving a roughly cone-shaped pile of lava rock on the surface. Every time that lava erupts through the same hole, the cone becomes larger until it is a huge lava mountain we know as a volcano.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Cormoro. “That sounds like magic to me.”

“It is a magic that happens at odd intervals. The interval for many volcanoes to spew lava can be many lifetimes or more, but some volcanoes erupt a little bit every year. Some erupt with a more runny lava and instead of a cone it leaves a rounded dome like the top of a head. We call them shield volcanoes, because the dome shape is similar to a fighter’s rounded protective shield. You can have human shields in many different shapes, but a common one is a circle with a bulge sticking out in the middle. You can use this bulge to push your opponent back. Anyway, that is the story of shield volcanoes. The more normal ones are pointed hill shaped.”

“How do you know all this, High Chief?”

“Reading. While I was preparing to be a man, I read material in my home language. Reading uses symbols in groups that always have the same meaning. I can show you sometime, but they will just look like meaningless symbols until you learn what sound each symbol is a sign for. That can take a long time to learn, but once you have learned it, the grouped symbols inscribed on a flat surface have special word meanings for anyone to read and learn from.

That is where I learned about volcanoes and other things such as how the whole world came to be.

If I can finish, I wanted to say that what comes out of a volcano is not just liquid rock; it can include poisonous gases, water in the form of steam, liquid lava, lava thrown out in a spray, or lava lumps that can be hurled a long way; perhaps as far as a man can travel in a day. Worst of all is when hot dust and rocks come rushing downhill faster than a man can run; these kill you as soon as they touch you because they are so extremely hot. In a flash there is nothing left of you; all burned to ashes.

The overall story is that volcanoes are dangerous: you should stay well clear of them; many many days’ travel from them, if you value your life.”

“Great Earth Mother preserve me from ever encountering a volcano!” Cormoro burst out fearfully.

John reckoned he had got the message across, and smiled to himself.

Cormoro now said reverently, “If ever I have a vision about a volcano, I will know now what it is, High Chief.”

“Thanks, Cormoro. Do let me know when you have any new vision at all. I would like to have an idea of what the civilisation on the northern continent is doing, even if it is one of your vaguer premonitions. It is all useful to know about, even as a guess.”

It was the next day before John got the sign he needed. There was a soft but deep rumble that came to everyone’s attention, causing a few to look around as if there had been a rock fall or something similar. John had a better idea and went to look to the western horizon.

He was rewarded by seeing a column of what looked like smoke drifting up from the far distant mountains. He knew that was definitely an eruption going on, but far enough away that it would have no effect in this area apart from a little vibration and a modicum of sound. He called to Cormoro, and showed him the faraway plume stretching up towards the sky.

“That, my friend Comoro, is the very hot ash cloud blown up from the volcano. It will go up and up for a lot longer yet, the height of a dozen mountains into the sky. When the hot ash at last falls down, it will land on the ocean and float, for it is very light, being full of holes.”

“How do you know it will land on the big water, High Chief?”

“As I said before, the wind direction here is almost always from the water this side to the water beyond the mountains, so I expect that is the way the wind will blow the ash.”

“That is clever thinking. You are good at seeing how one natural effect changes another natural effect. I like that kind of thinking.”

“It is a way of thinking that I was brought up with, Cormoro. Most events have a cause, and if you understand the cause, you can relate that cause to other events. The wind blows and the trees sway: cause and effect. The wind also makes a fire burn faster, so there has to be something in the wind that makes the fire grow brighter and hotter. You can then make your own wind by using a bag to puff air into a fire and make it hotter. A hotter fire means that things happen in the fire that don’t happen at lower temperatures. One thing most often leads to another thing, and if you pay attention, you can draw conclusions from your observations. For instance, an arrow shot from a bow will normally fly straight ahead, but if there is a wind, the arrow will be pushed to the side away from the wind. This means you have to allow for this wind push when you are aiming at a target.”

“Ah, yes. I can see that, now that you mention it. It makes sense, but I hadn’t thought of it before.”

“Cormoro, the world is full of information for you, if you bother to watch for it. Once observed, you can make use of it.”

“This is part of what makes you a powerful shaman, High Chief John. I had not realised how much of a shaman’s real magic is based on observation and drawing knowledge from these observations.”

“That is true. For example, you can tell which direction a forest fire will go, if you note which way the wind is blowing. The fire is pushed away from the wind, so that is the way it will move. Announcing that opinion will seem magical when the fire appears to obey you, but you are simply using knowledge of the wind and how it blows. This thinking is all based on how the wind blows.”

Cormoro chuckled, “That could be useful information for the future. Thank you for telling me, High Chief.”

“High Chief!” a call was being made for John, so he answered it, going back to the cave entrance. There was a stranger standing there with Chief Numa. Numa looked ... interested ... he thought. She spoke in a softer tone, but still more formal than usual.

“High Chief John, thank you for coming over. We have a messenger here from a group of tribes to the south, ones where you made an impression as our shaman who helped them. I will leave him to tell you what he has to say.”

John turned his attention to the man, who was trying to be formal himself.

“High Chief John, I am messenger Rosko. I was asked to come here to find you. I was not told your name or title for we did not know them, just that you had a pale skin and were a strong shaman and wise leader. I made my way north, asking where I might find such a person, and got various answers, not very consistent. They all recognised you, but were unclear as to your current location. It turns out you have a responsibility for several tribes, but are not the Chief in any of them. That is an unusual position, one that I have never encountered before, so I came here to speak to the local Chief, who turned out to be a female Chief, to my surprise.”

John was not happy at this roundabout introduction, and made it plain.

“Yes, Yes. To be short, you sought me and found me. So what is your message?”

“Oh ... the message? Ah, yes. The tribes where you helped them to recover from their illnesses, they have got themselves together and elected an OverChief to act on their behalf when dealing with outside groups or tribes. He is the Chief of the largest tribe in the grouping, so it was the easiest choice to make. The Overchief wishes to establish good relations with your tribe, or rather, your group of tribes here. At first it was assumed by us that it was one large tribe, but I discovered it was a grouping with you as High Chief in charge. Well, not exactly in control, but like the OverChief only without direct decision-making powers...”

John short-circuited his explanation.

“The message, please?”

“Ah, yes. The OverChief wishes to make a formal pact between your tribal grouping, and his tribal grouping, and proposes a marital bond to secure the pact for the future.”

John furrowed his forehead.

“What? Can you translate that into simpler language, please? Such diplomatic-speak can be somewhat obscure, even if wholly accurate in itself. Simply tell me what he proposes, in words that a simple man might understand.”

“Humm ... The OverChief proposes to marry his daughter to the High Chief, that is you, as a sign of the pact being accepted. If you have a daughter of marriageable age, she could be married to him in return. That is what is meant by the OverChief’s formal proposal.”

“Now we are getting somewhere, Rosko. Perhaps now we can get the important facts clarified? What is the name of this OverChief?”

“OverChief Rondo. He is Chief of the Longbarrows tribe, and is an important man. He has four wives to show his importance, and about ten children, six of them boys or men.” The man puffed up his chest as he made this proud announcement.

John raised his eyebrows, and sighed.

“Such an old and outdated tradition, equating importance to the number of wives. In my own opinion, number of wives have nothing to do with importance. Is that not so, Chief Numa?”

Numa blushed, as this pushed back at her own views on wives as signs of importance. She gave a reply that was technically correct, but uninformative.

“High Chief John has never seen his wives as other than women to cherish; that is true.”

The messenger made a wrong assumption and said condescendingly, “That is all right, High Chief. OverChief Rondo did not wish to imply he is more important than you. The number of wives he has is merely a local tradition that he abides by. Don’t let it worry you, sir.”

“I am not worried by that, my dear fellow. Chief Numa, do you recall how many wives I have?”

“I am not certain, High Chief John. Three hands, I think, but that does not include Delica and Decala, does it?”

John turned apologetically to the now astonished messenger. “Sorry about this confusion, but I made my two concubines into wives the other day, for I now believe concubinage is a demeaning position. If a woman is important enough to bear your children, she is important enough to be your wife. Oh, and talking of children, what children I have are all babies at the present time, so I am not in a position to offer a daughter in marriage. Does that adversely affect the OverChief’s proposal?”

The man was still trying to get over the idea of fifteen or seventeen wives, and answered slowly.

“Ummm ... I think the offer stands, for he said ‘if you have daughters of marriageable age’, and you haven’t. It is a proposal for a pact of friendship, after all is said about wives and daughters. The marriage proposal is just an extra way of helping the pact to endure.”

“Very well. I am amenable to a friendship pact, with or without a ‘marital bond’. What does the selected woman have to say about it?”

“The eldest daughter? Why should she say anything about it?”

John sounded exasperated. “You are proposing for her to be married. Surely she should have some say in the choice of her husband?”

Rosko was puzzled that there should be any question over this.

“You confuse me, High Chief. She is the daughter of a Chief, so she will expect to be married to another Chief chosen by her father. That is normal practice between Chiefs; she is aware of this and accepts that is the way it will be. Daughters of Chiefs are there to cement pacts between Chiefs and improve family links between tribes.”

“Well, it is not normal practice here. We have a policy of women having a say over their future partner in life. She must be able to say whether she likes the man or not, in advance of any proposed union. If she doesn’t like him, there is no marriage. The same applies in reverse; if I don’t think I can get along with her, I can refuse her in the same way. This is a way of being fair to everyone. Neither should feel offended, as it is a practical matter for having a good marriage. We call it equality.”

Rosko, still shocked, accepted the inevitable. This was practice here, so had to be accepted.

“High Chief, I will pass on to OverChief Rondo the story of how your tribes operate, and he can take it from there. I have no idea what his reaction will be, so I must leave it that you find the pact acceptable, whether or not there is a marital connection involved at the end of it. The possible bride will be sent to you.”

“That is fine, Rosko. I take it that the tribes are all healthy now?”

“They are, thanks to your healing magic. It was such a wonderful change in the fortunes of our tribes. That is one of the main reasons for suggesting this pact. It made a lot of sense, and to me it appears doubly so. I may only be a messenger, but from the little I have seen here, your Chief Numa has a happy tribe. That baby of hers; is it yours?”

“It is. She was my first wife, and makes a good Chief.”

“Chief Numa is your wife?”

“Yes, and so is Chief Maranga of the Farfarers.”

“Both are women?”

“Wives tend to be women, Rosko,” John calmly reminded him.

“Of course, sorry. It was the surprise of women Chiefs that got to me.”

“It is a side effect of treating all men and women equally, which we do in my tribes.”

“But that can’t work!” He complained.

“In what way, Rosko? What can’t work?”John asked mildly.

“Well, you couldn’t have a female warrior or hunter.”

John called out loudly, “Warriors! To your spears, now.”

There was a bustle of movement in the tribe, and within a mniute there was a cluster of men and women, spears in hand, facing John and the messenger. Chief Numa told John, “The warriors are ready for your orders, High Chief.”

“Thank you, Chief Numa. Have them adopt defensive position, please.”

She called out, “Warriors! Defensive stance, now!”

In seconds, all of them were standing, feet apart in the best stable position, spear angled forward ready to ward off any attacker, all done in silence. Numa looked back at John.

He nodded, announcing loudly, “Well done, ladies and gentlemen! That was excellent evidence of your preparedness to fight off an attack. Thank you for that admirable demonstration, and you may stand down.”

He turned to Rosko and asked, “Do you agree, Rosko, that our male and female warriors are ready and able to resist any attack?”

The man stared at all the disbanding men and women warriors who had been glaring at him fiercely as they adopted their fighting stance. His mouth remained open in shock. He finally found words.

“At least half of them are women!”

John retorted, “Yes, and ALL of them are warriors.”

Rosko gasped, “You really meant it! Woman as warriors?”

“Yes,” affirmed John. “And they have actual experience of warfare, too, but no experience of losses on the battlefield.”

“What? In a battle but with no losses?” he sounded incredulous.

“I taught them to fight at night, so the enemy didn’t know where our warriors were positioned when we sent a rain of arrows down on them. We left the battlefield before they could recover, because we had achieved our success. That is what war is all about: winning battles.”

“But leaving the field of battle?...” Rosko was now speechless as he gaped.

John explained, “Battle is about winning, Rosko; nothing else. Don’t imagine that it is about how many warriors die on each side. That is a measure of futility. If you simply kill the leader, that may stop the war and allow negotiations for peace. If you make the enemy afraid of you, that can be enough to win on the battlefield; they run away in fear. Attacking the enemy at night, when they can’t see you, is very frightening to your enemy, which is why we used that technique. We had our warriors practice many of the ways of fighting at night, so that on the day of the battle – or rather the night of the battle – it was familiar to them. I hardly had to say much more than a word or two for them to let loose their arrows accurately at the right moment. That was another thing they learned: killing accuracy in letting loose arrows or spears.

Do you know of any other tribe than can fight that way?”

“Ummm ... no, High Chief, none.”

“Well, my female warriors can and do fight and win that way. Do you still think that women cannot be warriors?”

“I have learned otherwise, High Chief. I apologise for doubting you.”

“Take back my assent to the deal, to the OverChief. Someone can confirm his acceptance of the deal later; perhaps you. Add my congratulations on his appointment and I hope he does well at the job; it will not be easy trying to keep everyone happy.”

Chief Numa was not finished with him. She arrived back at the discussion with a parcel in her hands.

“Messenger Rosko, please carry this gift to OverChief Rondo. It contains samples of soap for washing the body and hair cleaning liquid for your head hair. There is also a pair of moccasins for someone to try out if they have the right size of feet. We make the moccasins to the size of an individual’s feet, so they fit well. To order a pair, simply send us a sheet of hide with a diagram of the person’s feet on the smooth side: actual size. That diagram should have the name of the person written on it, or his personal sign, or a sketch of his face for identification, if that is what is possible.

The soap comes with a male scent for men, or a variety of flower scents for women to use. The hair liquid, which we call shampoo, is made to suit everyone. You squeeze it out, a little at a time, and add it to your hair with water; this cleanses your hair and makes your head smell better. The soap does the same for your body.”

“Interesting. Can I have a sample to try?”

“It is a trade item, so I can only offer you a small soap for you to try on your way home.”

“That’s fine. If I have to come back, I’ll bring something to trade with for soap.”

“Good idea. Have a good trip back to your OverChief.”

The man left, quite happy with his gift parcel; not so happy with his return message.

Life returned to near normal for a while, with John doing his best to satisfy all his wives, and watching the pregnant ones while their bellies grew steadily larger as the births came closer. None exhibited any signs of danger, for which he was grateful. Trading continued as before, except for the new burning sites in the forest, where both ash production and charcoal production was proceeding well. The more observant tribesfolk began to remark on how smokeless the charcoal was in comparison to fresh wood, and the cooks begged it for the cook fires. Knowing the benefits of uncontaminated food, John encouraged acceptance of the cooks’ request.

‘That could make it a selling point if our charcoal became enough in quantity for it to be traded’, he thought. The cooks may run through it faster if their customers all demand charcoal-grilled meals!

Chief Numa was of a similar opinion, for she asked the charcoal makers to start an additional burn site in the forest.

It was obvious from the willingness of folk to work in the forest, that the presence of predators had dropped dramatically. Mankind was doing the same here as had happened to megafauna in America and Siberia in the other timeline’s far past; the dangerous animals were being decimated.

Apart from the occasional travelling merchant, there was not much excitement in the tribe. Every merchant seemed to either have a bi-cycle with a trailer, or was seeking to obtain one at the earliest opportunity – read that as being able to pay for one. It was a good investment, to be able to carry more trade goods on every trip.

These machines were clearly a hit, and every trader who appeared at another tribe with one was an advert for the business. Raka and Brando would be busy making more, or supervising others to do the actual putting together of the machines. Brando had already cottoned on to the notion of apprentices making the parts as a routine aspect of their work, then the putting together of the parts to produce the final machine became an easier task for the Makers or those they had trained to put the parts together. The general concept of mass production was alive and well in this era.

Delivery of the machines looked like becoming another trade, for the merchant would arrive with an order from several tribes, and someone had to deliver them and collect payment. The payment was of course in more goods, so the delivery man ended up with a heavy or large pack to carry home.

This soon developed into a two man job, where one delivered the bi-cycle and the other came along with his tribally-owned bi-cycle and trailer. The payment goods were piled into the trailer of the tribe’s bike, and the two men shared the job of pushing the loaded bike home.

Like all good businesses, things developed further, in that Brando and Raka were asked by the delivery team to make a stronger bi-cycle with a deeper basket on the trailer, so that there was never a question of whether they could bring back all the trade goods on the one trip.

Brando suggested a taller set of wheels to cope with the additional weight, and they made a few of those for the delivery men to try. The larger wheelset, the stronger frame, and the deeper and slightly longer basket were all tested, and the men declared themselves pleased, despite the taller wheels restricting their forward vision. They just looked past on one side or the other, to see where they were going. The larger machines soon were being called trucks by the white women, and the name stuck.

Raka had been concerned as to the life of these larger wheels with the additional loads in the basket, but Brando simply increased the number of spokes to improve the rigidity of the wheel rims and offer additional stability as well. It worked. The bumps on the track remained a slight worry over impacts on the machine, but John suggested asking traders to seek rubber from the Amazon river basin tribes.

The first traders had arrived with examples of South American potatoes, and Jean had taken on the task of finding and clearing a patch of ground for growing potatoes. John and his white wives knew about potatoes but refused to allow their seed potatoes to be used for eating in the meantime. Sheila insisted to everyone in the tribe, “Once we have planted, grown and tested them for poisons, we can start testing them for edibility. Some varieties are better-tasting than others, and certain varieties have larger tubers as well, so we may have to select larger tubers from the first crop and attempt to get larger tubers in subsequent years.”

John had not thought about possible poisons in this alternate world, but as the berries were poisonous back home, perhaps some tubers were here. They would not be certain without testing them on animals first.

“Good thinking, my darling. Your botanical advice is going to be very helpful over the years as our children grow.”

Sheila went to bristle at the automatic assumption of her having a number of children, then realised with a start that she didn’t really mind any more about having several children with John. She stammered, “Thank you, my love.”

John suddenly noticed how they had meshed over the months, so that now he thought of Sheila and him just as he thought of any of his wives and himself, like a happily married man getting along with his wife.

He pulled her to him and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on the lips, and a romantic rub on her bum to add to it. She purred, but asked, “What brought that on?”

“You. I was just thinking of how much I loved you, and all the others as well. I thought it was time I reminded you of me!”

“Well, I already have something to remind me of you,” she responded with a smile, patting her prominent baby bulge. “I never expected to be part of a veritable harem and loving it. How do you do it, husband?”

“I blame it on my pheromones. They seem to attract you to me and me to you, and so on, but I am happy that it works so well. That must be the reason there is never any jealousy between you ladies.”

She put a hand up to her mouth, exclaiming, “I hadn’t thought about it until now, but you’re right. I am happy that Numa is First Wife, and that every time you collect more wives, it doesn’t bother me at all. That is amazing. I never imagined I could feel that way.”

“It is amazing to me as well. Everything I ever heard about polygamous families is that the wives get jealous of each other, but it never happens in our family. Let’s be glad for that mercy!”

“One thing, though. It is not long until my baby is due, and the childbirth event scares me, John. I am afraid I or my baby, or both of us, might die during it. Can you be there for me, so that if the worst happens, I can go with you holding my hand, telling me that you love me?”

She sounded frightened, and John wanted to say and do the right thing for this suddenly fragile woman.

“Sheila, I am 99 per cent certain that you will be fine in birthing that baby, but I will do my damndest to be there with you during your labour. I failed Numa and Noma over being present, so I don’t intend to repeat that mistake again. Not if I have any say in the matter.”

This got him a hug in thanks.

He had forgotten how close some of the other wives were to giving birth. His attention in recent weeks had been on his new wives. He had best rectify the situation, for Vickie was another who was not far from parturition.