Chapter 27

It was a real bugbear, trying to work out the local rules of acceptable behaviour that contravening would be deemed an arrestable crime that could be sorted out before it went too far. Every time Numa and I thought we had a thing pinned down, we found an excuse to strike it out again because of difficulties in interpretation. Brawling was indefinable in a society where often the simple solution to an argument was a fist fight and then make up afterwards. Child abuse was usually solved in a local vigilante style as soon as discovered: “And if you hit that kid again, you’ll get the same from the rest of us in the tribe, only harder.”

Much the same applied to abusing a wife or concubine. Bruises were not regarded as excusable by pretending an accident like ‘she fell down the stairs’, when there are no stairs. Wife-beating was swiftly noticed and dealt with, vigilante-style. Neighbours might threaten the abuser with the worst punishment: the Chief’s wrath – normally banishment, alone and defenceless.

Bullying did not last long before six or so concerned fellow citizens would apply the same technique to the bully, and it would cease, or else. Vigilante justice worked here.

Theft was often unapproved borrowing, for no-one was running away with the stolen goods; everything stayed within the tribe, and the ‘mislaid’ property ended up back where it belonged after a while, either voluntarily or re-appropriated by the owner, for most property cannot be hidden away in a close tribal setting. A warning was all that the perpetrator needed.

After a great deal of deliberation with John asking Numa about such wrongdoings, she became exasperated and told John, “There is only one practical solution for this.”

“What? I don’t see any solution, dear heart.”

Chief Numa stared him in the face and gently, tenderly, laid her hand on his cheek in response to his loving terms. She still had to correct him.

“The womanly solution, John; that’s what is needed. Your appointment for Jean becomes a social one rather than a punitive one: The Wise Woman technique. She goes to the seat of the problem, and talks it over with those involved. She looks at the arguments on both sides, and offers her considered judgment as a mediator trying to help. In almost all cases, they will accept her wise advice and do what she says. In the occasional difficult case, she will refer it to me, and I will lay down my judgment that WILL be obeyed, no matter what it is. They will prefer Jean’s spolution every time after that!

She will tell them that outcome in advance: it will add additional strong emphasis to her mediation. My judgment will be the threat, her judgment the opportunity of an acceptable solution.”

“Wow!” John was taken aback by Numa’s vehemence, but saw the commonsense wisdom in what she said. He thought about it for a little, then assented.

“As Chief, you have the whole tribe to protect, so avoiding squabbles is far better than punishing people afterwards. I see your reasoning. So, we could appoint Jean as a social advisor and local judge; an official mediator?”

“Mediator? Yes. I like the idea of that as her title. Fetch Jean here and I will tell her what I want.”

John obediently went off to locate Jean and bring her to the Chief. She was chatting to Kekona, getting a feel for this teenager who was to be the next wife in the family. Kekona had asked her if she was expecting John’s child, and she nodded.

“Yes. I had no intention of having children while I was back where I used to live, because of my career; that is, my long-term work conditions, but once I was thrust here by enemies, there was little choice for me. There was no way back. I knew that John was the closest possibility to a husband if I wanted a male companion who was something like back home, so I accepted his proposal of marriage and joined the other women married to him. He at least makes it clear in advance that if you marry him, he expects you to have his children. I thought about it, and reckoned it was not so bad after all.”

She brought her hands up to her bare breasts, and cupped them. She was now proud of her mammaries in this warm climate, instead of having to hide them back home.

“I used to wear clothes that covered my body, and undergarments for my nether region and my breasts. Exposing your breasts was not normal in my old society, so I was used to wearing this garment that held my breasts tight. Now that I am pregnant, my breasts have become larger and the undergarment for my breasts no longer fits. I have no replacement, so I am doing without. It is warm enough that the local practice of bare breasts is very comfortable, I am finding. John likes it too, having permanent access to my breasts.

On the matter of having babies safely, John has magic in his body that he passes on to us by contact to help keep us all healthy, including while giving birth, so there is little fear of dying when having a baby.”

“There isn’t? I was told in my former tribe that about one in four hands of women will die while having a baby, usually the first child. Everyone simply accepted that life happens – or in this instance, death happens.”

“Well, in this tribe I have not heard of a single death during childbirth since John arrived and started this tribe. There is still a small risk of bleeding to death, but even there, the other wives have adapted and learned how to quickly sew up a cut, and John’s magic treatment completes the sealing and saves you. That happened with the Chief’s sister; she was saved from bad bleeding that way.”

“That sounds good. I want to have my own children, but not any like my elder sister!”

Jean gave a friendly laugh, “That is up to your children when they becomes adults. You can only guide them in the right direction.” Then she was interrupted by John arriving.

“Jean, my lovely? Chief Numa wants to discuss with you your new post within the tribe. Can you tear yourself away from this lovely lady and go see Numa, please?”

Kekona giggled as Jean departed.

“Lovely lady? Who are you talking about, High Chief?”

“You, of course, Kekona. I saw you as a lovely lady as soon as you arrived, and was confused when you were not introduced immediately, as an added attraction. A younger sister always merits an introduction on a visit to another tribe.”

“Not with Agreya around! She wants to be the centre of attention all the time; but I think you noticed that!”

“I did, right from the start; insulting me, just to impose her assumed superiority over me? The cheek of it! Well, it didn’t work, and you and I have benefitted from it.”

“You think I am a second prize, High Chief?”

“No. I think you are a real prize; a lovely prize, worthy of being part of our extensive family.”

Kekona crept forward slowly, until she was directly in front of him, and extremely close. She pushed forward with her breasts, so that her bare nipples were now touching his manly chest.

“What will you want me to do, or do with me, High Chief?” she said in a teasing way.

He smiled, but declared, “For a start, in my presence you will call me John in any purely family setting. On more formal occasions, as with visitors, you will call me High Chief, even when we are married. It is a mere formality, but others will expect it, so we do it for them.

Like my other wives, you can call me by any endearment you feel when we are together, or even curse me if I annoy you; you will not be punished! Speak to my other ladies about this and similar matters relating to a husband and wife. This tribe has forms of behaviour that are unique to us.

Secondly, it is normal for me to kiss my wives when we both feel like it. Are you familiar with kissing?”

“I have seen a few people putting lips together, and was told it was kissing, but it appeared a strange custom. They seemed to treat it as normal affection. Will you show me what you mean?”

John took up this invitation immediately, and placed his arms round her before kissing her lips gently, so she could test it out. Almost immediately, she drew back in surprise.

“Oh. That is an unusual feeling. Is it always your lips against my lips?”

“No, you can decide to kiss me in any way in our family setting, but it can be a lot more ways than lips. I could kiss any part of your body to show how much you are appreciated; also you can stick your tongue in my mouth when kissing, as a sort of exploration, and the same can be done in the other direction.”

Kekona was interested. “Do it again, please; but just kissing for now. I am not sure about sticking my tongue in your mouth; it is so strange.”

John did as she asked, and spent more time and effort on the performance. She liked it and responded in much the same way. She finally spoke after drawing back.

“I can see that being married to you will be very different to marriage in my former tribe, John. Jean says that your manner of coupling is unusual too, or rather, unusual for our tribes.”

“You are happy at the idea of having children, I hope?”

“If it happens, then fine. Your women tell me that you have got all of them pregnant. You appear to be very fertile, even with the pale women who look a bit like you; as Agreya suggested so rudely, looking unwell.”

“Those ones? They came from my home territory, dumped here just like me; that is why their skin is similar to mine; we are from a race of pale skinned people. We get on well together and all three accepted me as husband. One was my intended wife back home, so that was fine, except that on arrival she found she was not first wife. She took that blow without too much disappontment.”

“But you are not unwell, are you? You seem fit, otherwise.”

“No, I am perfectly healthy. My skin colour relates to the more northerly part of the world where my homeland was. People have darker skin the closer they live to the middle of our world. The brownish skin is the result of pigment under the skin that is there to protect you from the sun’s rays of light, which are much stronger here. Back at my homeland, the sunlight is less strong, and the need for pigment becomes less over a long period of time.”

“So you must be suffering from overexposure to sunshine? If you are right, that is.”

John was taken aback at this accusation and said nothing, for he had no immediate riposte. He would have to think about it. It was several hours later before he had come to the conclusion that for much of the time his skin was not exposed to sunshine.

Inside the tribe’s cave, he was sheltered. Out in the forest, the canopy provided considerable shade. When visiting a tribe, or any other meetings, his discussions were normally inside huts. His skin did not normally burn from sun exposure, for he had trained for soldiering in warm countries, and was used to it.

He was never simply sunbathing, which provides the worst conditions on your skin; but she had a point, and it was time he spoke with Sheila about some kind of sunblock for his torso and face, though his skin was already lightly bronzed with the sunshine exposure he did get.

He sought her advice, but when he could get the chance to speak with her, she seemed surprised.

“Did you not ask for some of our sunscreen, John? I am sorry that no-one mentioned it We found some sunscreen lotion in the cupboards of healthcare products, and we ladies have been using it on our arms and faces. It never occurred to me that you were never around when we dug it out and used it. Women tend to think about such things long before men see a need for it.”

“How long is that lotion supply going to last? There can’t have been that much in the store-room.”

“I suppose so, though there are the additional storerooms. Most plant oils have some value in protecting the skin. I’ll start checking with the locals, to discover what they have used in the past.”

“Aren’t the locals naturally protected?” John asked.

“Good God, no! It does not matter what colour your skin is; there is still a risk factor, though dark skin provides partial protection.”

Jean marched up to John and announced, “John, you are now looking at the tribal mediator: not a bad title for a former policewoman, don’t you think?”

“Not even a policewoman at that, but something better: police force, judge and jury all in one as I understand it, Jean. Pretty powerful stuff! How about that?”

“Yes, but with Chief Numa as the big stick to threaten miscreants with, if they don’t pay attention to what I am saying!” she laughed. “I like the way she has put this together; don’t you?”

“I do. She sprang it on me when I was suggesting all sorts of rules for the tribe to work within. She cut through and told me that as misbehaviour was a social problem, we didn’t need rules, and there was a social solution rather than a punitive one. You are that solution, it turns out.”

“You think it will work, John?” Jean asked.

“I don’t see why not. This isn’t a modern city where no-one knows anyone, and seldom cares. This is a tribe where we all feel responsible for each other, and we know who is who. Anyone stepping out of line is soon noticed, and anyone showing signs of abuse will soon be noticed. Catching culprits at the earliest opportunity is the best chance of stopping the abuse or bullying, and you should be good at putting pressure on them to own up and desist in future, with the threat of tribal vengeance if they don’t behave. You have been trained in confrontations, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but that was a long while ago, years back.”

“It can’t have all gone from your memory, Jean. It will surely come back to you as soon as you need it. Has the Chief given you anywhere to start with your investigations?”

“Not really...”

John noted the hesitation, and enquired farther.

“So what did she mention?”

“Someone keeps slipping out of the camp for a few hours, then returns. It is not hunting or foraging, for she never brings anything back, so Chief Numa does not know what the woman is up to.”

“What do you propose to do about it?”

“Watch and wait, for the moment. I don’t have any evidence of wrong-doing; that is the problem for me.”

“Agreed. If you need a rota of watchers, speak to the other wives. You can’t be watching by yourself all the time. Also, let me know if you need a strong-arm man. I will volunteer.”

While they were talking, a trader had arrived with his backpack full. He sat down by the fire and was offered a good meal, as was customary when a trader arrived. The hungry man tucked in and enjoyed the food and the respite from his long journey.

He revealed he had some specific trade items for this tribe. He opened his pack, and from its depths removed a string bag of round dark objects.

“I was told that your Chief had asked for these round roots from the hills to the south.”

Chief Numa was asked to come, and she looked at the bag in surprise.

“That means nothing to me. Perhaps it was John who asked.”

John was sought and appeared shortly thereafter. Shown the bag of roundish roots, he exclaimed, “Potatoes! I had given up hope of ever getting my hands on them. Are they in good condition?” He held up the bag and confirmed there was no mould on them, and no cuts.

The trader told him, “I was given instructions. They were to be kept cool and allowed to get the air to them, to prevent mould forming; and they were not to be bashed or otherwise damaged.”

John was pleased.

“The tubers appear to be in good condition. We must keep them inside the cave for the cooler conditions until growing season. Once the shoots start appearing on the tubers, we can plant them in good ground.

Now, sir, what do you seek in exchange?”

The man was clear about this.

“These have come a long way, so they are not cheap. I want four hands of soap bars for them.”

John looked to Numa. “Do we have that many available for trade, Chief Numa?”

“Yes, if he doesn’t mind some of them being for women, with special scent included.”

The trader was quick to accept, for the soaps for women traded better than those for men. This trade was completed, allowing him to move on to dispay his other items. One was a lump of greenish rock, that Vickie quickly lifted to handle.

“Is this soapstone, jade, emerald, or malachite?” She wondered aloud. The trader heard her, but just shrugged. “I don’t know, lady. I got it a long time ago, but no-one has expressed keen interest in buying it.”

Vickie called to Sheila, “Sheila, dear, have you any idea what this green rock is?”

Sheila came over and hefted it, thinking.

“Is there any part that shows what the inside is like? She turned it round the round, until she found a corner that had broken off. “Huh? Looks like malachite. Pretty looking mineral, but that’s about it. Have you anything similar, that is yellow in colour? We call it chalcopyrite, if I have it correct.”

The trader screwed up his face as he thought through his inventory.

“I might have a small piece of what you are talking about, but I don’t know its name. What I have is a small sample, but I can get more from the tribe that gave me it.”

He raked through his pack, and at the bottom found the item. Sheila looked closely at it.

“Yes, I think this is the variety I prefer. We can probably make things with the stuff, if you can bring us a lot more on your next trip.”

The man mentioned, “I like the golden colour, but it is not gold, if that is what you are thinking.”

Sheila mumbled and waved that thought away. “I know, but I can see us making something out of it later. Not everything has to be valuable to be useful, you know!”

The trader had spotted a couple of the bi-cyles with trailer, standing against a side wall. “How about these wooden made things? Do they work well as transport? Another trader said he was getting one.”

“Yes,” Sheila told him. “We make them mostly for traders, as you can carry a whole pack load in the basket, using a lot less effort on your part; and you can also move faster, which is a great help on a long journey.”

The man decided, “If you give me one, I’ll bring it back loaded with that yellow rock you wanted, and I can throw in a chunk or two of the green rock you admired. How about it?”

“That would be a very good deal for you. These machines take hours and hours of Maker work to produce, so that makes them expensive.”

“All right; how about I deliver two loads of the yellow rock in return for the moving thing, but I have to take it with me today, so I can use it for the loads in two trips.”

“Hang on,” she told him. “Chief Numa? Do you know this trader? Is he reliable enough to trust his word?”

Numa looked over and recognised him.

“Yes, That is Hercule the trader. He has never let us down so far.”

Sheila told him, “Right, you have your deal, but fail us this time and we never trade with you again, right?”

“Right, pale lady.”

“My name is Sheila. Remember it!”

Sheila casually picked up the green lump of rock and walked off with it, then dumped it carelessly near Chief Numa’s throne with not a word said about it. Sheila then wandered off to locate John and have a quiet word with him.

“Ah, there you are, John. What’s with you now? Busy?”

“Not really. I was thinking about this proposed move of the tribe to a new site, and the logistics involved. Did you want something?”

“Can we sit quietly and talk?”

John noticed her careful reticence and motioned outside the cave and down to one of the new houses. Aloud he suggested, “Let’s go inspect these, and see how these houses are standing up to the weather.”

Sheila was happy to oblige, for her baby bulge wasn’t bothering her at the moment, and waited until they were inside the empty construction. John spoke first.

“What did you really want to see me about, Sheila?”

“Copper. That trader had a lump of greenish rock, and I am fairly sure it is malachite.”

“Malachite? What is that when it is at home?” he smiled at her as he admitted his ignorance.

“It is a copper mineral. I asked the man is he had any of the yellow version of the same thing, and he produced a small lump of another mineral. I am unsure as to its chemical name; I think it is chalcopyrite; but it is a copper mineral linked to sulpher, and if I am right, it is the main source of copper ore for smelting.”

“I see. You want to smelt copper?”

“Yes. The temperature for copper smelting is fairly low; nothing like the heat needed for smelting iron. The lower temperature is why we had a copper age first, followed by a bronze age and then an iron age. It is all to do with the temperatures required for metal smelting and our technology getting to the point of achieving such temperatures. Bronze is a mixture of copper and tin, so you need to locate a source for tin: that’s not so easy. Tin is only found in a limited number of places.”

“Okay, but a small lump of copper ore is not going to get you far!”

“Of course not, silly. I have asked him to get us a couple of baskets of ore for us to work on. He says he has a source at another tribe somewhere. He gets a bicycle and trailer from us in exchange. Numa was all right with it,” she was swift to assert before he could possibly object.

“Hmm ... we don’t know where the source is?”

“Not now. Historically, Mexico was where most copper was found, but that was amounts for commercial extraction, and we don’t need highly productive mines, just enough for our needs. Almost all sources came from the mountainous regions of Mexico, so I expect the same applies here. That is probably where the trader’s source is to be found: somewhere in that area.”

“Okay. We use the trader – what’s his name?”

“Hercule. I know; you are thinking of Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie’s detective, but that is sheer coincidence, and he is just Hercule, no surname. We are also well before the time of Hercules in Greece.”

“Granted. Anyway, we use the trader of supplies as long as he can provide the amounts we want at a price we think reasonable. Each time he delivers, try to knock down the price a little on each occasion, until he balks because his profit will be gone. If our eventual needs are such that he has to devote all his time to our supply, we increase his reward to keep him on side. That seem fine with you?”

“Sounds good. I will go over it with Numa as she must approve it as Chief, even if you are

High Chief. You did set up the system this way, remember.”

“I know. Go ahead, Sheila.”

Sheila stretched up and kissed John on the lips, surprising him.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Can’t a woman show affection for her husband?”

“Of course, but why at this moment?”

“I am close to you, and I just felt like it, so there!”

Closeness. John remembered his enhanced pheromones, and also how he felt about Sheila, and took the opportunity of kissing her in return, pulling her to him as he did so. Her expanded belly got in the way, and he remembered how close she must be to the baby’s birth. When the kiss at last ended, he asked her, “How long till you are due, Sheila?”

“A week or two, I think. I lost track of the dates, not having a calendar here. I am basing it on the time since your last children were born. You first fucked me a few weeks after you had fucked them.”

“A logical approach,” he agreed. “Let me know when your first twinges start, and I will do my best to be there for you, to help with birthing our child.”

“I am looking forward to that event, John. Back home, I would never have expected to be having your baby before Vickie, if at all! Just as well she understands the whys and wherefores of it.”

“Yes. She had to put up with a lot. First, with me disappearing, then her being kidnapped, placed in the machine, and dumped here without warning. Then she finds that I am here, already married to several women, and she doesn’t know what she can do about it!

Bit of a shock, that.

Lastly, she finds that you – known by her as ‘the bitch’ - her own words – are here and also married to me. I think that finding that you had changed and were no longer a bitch to any woman; that made her realise she was ‘no longer in Kansas, Toto’!”

“I did change, didn’t I? But that was because conditions around me were completely different, so I had to face up to the new reality. Being bitchy no longer made sense for my life here. You were the obvious solution, and I jumped at the chance that I didn’t have back home. Vickie was not the only one who saw your good points, John!”

She laughed as she added, “I never saw my future as being part of a polygamous family, but polygamy seems to be perfectly normal here; no-one comments on it except to regard a man with several wives as being important. To me, you are important; certainly for me and my baby.”

“Sheila, you are important to me too. For some reason I find myself loving all of my wives equally. It may have something to do with either my pheromones, or my health nanites, for it is not what I would expect to happen normally, even if polygamy was legal back home. From what I have heard, wives in a polygamous family squabble and fight for superiority or power within the family. Here, we have none of that as a far as I can make out. Do you agree with that observation?”

“I do. It shocked me, for I expected Vickie to be putting me down because of how I behaved back home, but she seemed to accept that if you found me worthy of marriage, that I must be behaving better than I previously appeared. It was true, as well. But even so, I never thought she would treat me as a friend, but she does. Is that you insisting on it, or does she do this on her own?”

“It is her own choice, Sheila. All I asked was that she give you a chance. The rest was between you both. Jean was another matter entirely. She had no intention of marrying or having children at first, as she was a career woman; but when she found she had no career any longer, she had to look at herself again.

As a professional woman of our era, she had no wish to marry a stone age man she had no common ground with, so could not talk things over with him. I was the only male who fitted her need for common ground when she wanted to talk about religion, philosophy, or any subject of the 21st century, be it fashion, technology or sociology. She knew that any stone age man would not be on the same wavelength, so she slowly came round to regarding me as her only viable option. I told her she was under no obligation to marry me, or have children if she didn’t want to, but eventually she told me she wanted to become a wife and mother, as that way she could become part of the local community.

Being a woman on her own would lay her open to being snatched by a local man and treated as a serf, a concubine, almost a slave. Marrying me gave her security and an environment where she had you and Vickie to be with as fellow wives and mothers. That appealed to her nature even though it was in a polygamous family.

She has since been astounded to find that your local wives are just as concerned about many of the same worries she had, and they have bonded with her very well. You may have noticed her change of attitude?”

“Yep. As somebody who changed her attitude after arriving, I saw the same thing happen to her. She really has integrated with the tribe, and wants to help solve difficulties within the community and its families.”

Sheila asked, “Is that what you were talking about to her? It looked that way.”

“Something like that. We talked about a whole lot of things. I’m near my time, and she is a long way from giving birth; so she wants to know about how it goes, straight from the horse’s mouth sort of thing, rather than reading it in a book. Morning sickness, among others. Actually, that is a ‘how long is a piece of string?’ question. It varies from woman to woman, not always morning for a start. Some get it a lot, others almost none.”

“Ah. Definitely woman talk. Talking of which, Numa told Jean there is a woman of the tribe who sneaks out to the forest and comes back quietly a long while later, but not carrying anything in either direction. Have you noticed this woman?”

“Nope. I am not too good as spying material.”

“Neither am I normally, but I was trained for hiding, to observe enemy forces at close quarters, so I can be sneaky when I want to be.” John smirked at his boast, but Sheila could tell that it was an accurate statement.

They went back to the cave, hand in hand, and joined the others.

It was two days later when Jean collared John.

“John, dear, I need to talk again.”

“In private, or just as we are?”

“Semi-private would help. This is to do with my work.”

John again suggested an ‘inspection’ of one the houses outside the cave, and once there, she went on,”Yesterday I followed that woman out to the forest, at a distance, so she didn’t see that I was watching her. She went out past the thinned-out trees, into the thicker forest, but stayed on the trail for a while, then nipped off to the left where there was a mark on a tree. I noted the spot, and when I got there I had a surreptitious look around. She had left her own narrow trail, so she must have been there repeatedly. I didn’t follow her in case I met her returning; just came back.