Chapter 5

“So what brings you here, old friend?”

“Curiosity, in the main. You appear to have a foot in both camps, speaking to both armies and being happily and profitably used as a go-between. What brought this about, I wondered, and still wonder.”

“So you came to ask. Understandable. What exactly do you want to know?”

“Some detail of what you really know, instead of what you feed me.

Where are the northern army based? They attacked in lightning raids and left without a single man lost or left behind, leaving us with no information about them at all. It was most confusing, for normally in a skirmish there are losses on both sides, and that way you learn a little about your opponents.”

“True, but that is on the basis that both sides fight in the same manner. The force you were up against adopted tactics that give them the lowest rate of loss and their opponents a very high rate of loss in dead and injured. Is it true that they left no casualties behind in their raids?”

“None. They must have taken their injured back with them.”

“So what does that tell you about their medical facilities?”

“Probably that they expect their injured to be treated more effectively by themselves than by us, even with carrying them away. Would that be correct?”

“I would say partly correct, but you are thinking in the right way. Would their injured be treated well and brought back to good health, if left on the battlefield? Would your army care for them?”

Drago grimaced. “No. I have to admit that my expectation would be that they might be killed in revenge, or hurt further during interrogation, rather than be cured of their injuries. So that would be another very good reason to carry away their injured. But they still managed to get away at speed, which surprised me. We never caught up with them after raids; they just vanished.”

“Never? I heard that one raid was near the sea. That body of water would be a barrier to escape in that direction, and going through forests would leave trails to follow. Why didn’t your troops catch them?”

“They had their navy come and collect them after the raid, so I am guessing that their navy delivered them to the beach and it would be a short march to the camp they raided. It was well organised and executed.”

John remarked, “It sounds like you are right on that point. How did they know where to attack? That seems puzzling to me, coming from a considerable distance as they were.”

“Who knows? Someone must have let them know where that recruits camp was; But I am unsure how they knew about the officers’ camp in the previous attack, for that had only been there a fairly short time. I heard a snide remark from a former colleague that I was the closest link to the enemy at all times, so I should be investigated first.”

“Oh, dear. I should have known that would happen. That is the usual tactic of the defeated: find someone to blame, without bothering to examine the full facts before you do so. We called that making someone a scapegoat. It refers to using a goat - a small animal – as bait for catching a large predator. Among men, the predators are quickly assumed from rampant guesswork, and these wild guesses are used to accuse someone as the cause of the disaster; usually some innocent person.”

“Your analysis has a lot going for it, High Chief, though I do not see myself as a predator, not an innocent for that matter.

How would you work out what had happened to cause these raids to be effective?”

John appeared to give it some thought, then stated, as a new conclusion: “Information; what we called ‘intelligence’ - knowledge of the enemy. The other army must be good at collecting information, and putting it together to make a total picture. It was a technique often used by the army I once was part of.

The theory is that the more you know about your enemy, the better you can attack and hurt them. I’ll bet that they attacked your base during the night-time, when the attackers cannot be seen.

That was our general strategy: hit them when and where they least expect it. From now on, they will be mounting guards all through the night, and that will mean more men left tired during the day, thus depleting your fighting forces.”

“But that would not involve a large number of warriors, High Chief.”

“Duke, have you ever counted, even roughly, how many men are actually available for fighting? Much of an army’s personnel are involved in non-fighting tasks: cooking meals, setting up and taking down tents, looking after the food and drink supplies, or gathering more supplies from the surrounding area; taking care of the army’s equipment – armour and weapons, clothes and footwear – and repairing them after a battle. Then there are those who look after your transportation and their supplies contents – what we called the baggage train.

Plus, if you are controlling an area, you need men to watch over the controlled people. You need messengers to pass messages to and between parts of your army. Add in the officers and men who run the army, organising it; those teaching new recruits the basics, training the experienced soldiers in new techniques; and making sure everyone gets paid (if indeed you pay them for their service; not rewarding them makes them less reliable in battle).

As I recall from my army times, someone once estimated that only a tenth of an army did the actual fighting against the enemy.”

“By the Earth Mother! You really have thought deeply on this subject, High Chief. You would be a great organiser, so would make a great general for an army!”

John grunted, non-committally, “You forget that a general has to know about strategy and tactics; how to deploy an army effectively, and get them trained to behave as reliable units in his battle plan. That all takes time and energy and a lot of foresight. I am not that sort of man, Duke Drago.”

“Hah! You would have been better than our leaders! That was the problem with the army: we didn’t have an effective general organising it. The only reason we achieved what we did was because our opponents were no more than simple tribesmen, not prepared for war.

We didn’t need a competent general when the tribes fell into our hands so quickly. The tribes also seemed to get ill and die very easily. That is why when faced with a real threat, my colleagues chose the easy option; to head back home.”

John nodded sagely, agreeing with this assessment, and nearly saying, “I know why they died so readily,” but Drago was not finished.

“You have avoided stating where the north army is based, High Chief. Is there a reason for this reticence?”

John chuckled. “Not much gets by you, duke Drago. Now, the people of the north: they do not live locally in our terms. They are not so close as your people have assumed. They are based on the north continent, hundreds and hundreds of days march from here and then up a huge river; thus a specific location for their forces near here is impossible to identify. I only heard this a few days ago, when I had a meeting with one of their leaders aboard his big ship. His civilisation has superior technology, such as the ability to build these large ships that they provide to sea-going merchants whose trade covers a wide territory. These merchants, and others on land who travel between tribes, are a useful source of information about what is happening in and around the tribes they trade with.”

“Ah!” Drago exclaimed. “So the merchants will be the source of information about our movements and our bases.”

John commented thoughtfully, “Could be, but do merchants visit your bases? I suspect not; yet there is a lot of news out there, just waiting to be gathered together to make sense of it all.”

Drago mused, “Your past experience seems to give you an edge on all this information gathering, High Chief. You must be good at assessing what you hear and making use of it for your own ends.”

He gazed at John, seeking some sort of response to this accusation, and John felt obliged to say his piece.

“True enough, as you say; information has a value to everyone. Passing it on, in whatever direction, can be worthwhile in a number of ways. My position as a go-between has benefitted me immensely, with neither side seeing me as a threat.”

Drago was astonished at this ready admission of profiting from both sides.

“You are a fiendishly clever man, High Chief John,” he accused his host, “You gain from both sides. They both regard you as a friend, and all you had to do was collect and pass on information about the other sides. That is a sneaky way to operate, my friend; quite devious, evidently two-faced in my view. How much of what you peddle is truth?”

“You malign me, duke Drago. Everything that I pass on is accurate as far as I can tell. My words do not lie, but not all truths are as complete as the recipient may assume. If he reads more into the words than they specifically say, whose fault is that? If I say that I received an item as a gift, and also say that duke Drago is my friend, what does that mean? Does it mean that duke Drago gave me that gift, or are the two statements not related after all? Who makes that decision and comes to a conclusion?”

Drago stared at John before saying slowly, “Clever indeed. What you say is not necessarily what it appears to mean, but if the recipient makes that assumption, you are not at fault, I agree. This kind of dialogue, where all the words may not mean what you think; is that common where you come from?”

“It is common everywhere, but not always recognised for what it is. Gossip and slanderous talk are forms of this pattern of using words to deceive, but also it can be made into a high art between civilisations. Then we call it diplomacy: negotiating between possible future or past enemies; and even between allies.

An example from my own home world was where a defeated leader, told that he must not use military transportation, asked if he could use a specific mode of transport so he could feed some of his people in scattered locations, and his opponents said, yes, you can do that. The final settled agreement merely laid down in words that his forces could make use of this particular transport, without stating exactly what for. He then used this transport to attack his internal opponents and gain greater control in his country. The nation that had defeated him found that he had not broken the agreement, as it did not prohibit him in the written agreement from using the transport in that way.

That was why you have to be clear in wording agreements, making sure they say what you intend them to say; and not turn out to allow something different.”

“Fiendish! Your homeland must be a terrible place, John. We are children in comparison.

It makes me wonder what you actually did by maneouvering our decision-making in a way that suited you.”

“You have just taken a giant step towards a clearer understanding, duke. maneouvering around the edges is not being involved with the decisions by both sides. It merely sets the scene for the negotiations to go in a particular way. A nudge is all I could do. Your leaders made their own decisions, did they not?”

“Admittedly so, but was it entirely their decision?” Drago was unconvinced.

John insisted, “Decisions are made by those in charge, but they decide on the basis of what they know – or, on what they assume they know. If what they believe they know is not accurate, the decision may be a bad one, but they cannot determine that in advance without having all the facts.

Every general is faced with the question of whether his intelligence, and by that I mean the acquired information, is accurate and up to date. Information that may have been accurate yesterday may not be so accurate tomorrow; delays in obtaining information affect it. Situations can change quickly, especially in conflict. An old military adage is that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy; it needs constant updating. The same applies to intelligence gathering; and how that information gets to you. How do you know it is real; how up-to-date is it?

One major war depended on a huge surprise attack on a coastline, across a wide channel of the sea, and the enemy was fed information implying, but not stating, that the attack would be at a specific location. The real attack was on a different coastal location, so the majority of the defending forces were preparing for an attack elsewhere. They assumed the real dawn attack was a diversionary tactic, then even worse happened; no-one dared wake the leader back in the home country to get his approval to move to the real battle-site. The major forces didn’t move in time to stop the coastal invasion from succeeding in getting their forces ashore, and by then it was too late to move the blocking forces. That failed decision lost the defenders the war, eventually.”

“Didn’t the local generals decide for themselves and act?”

“Once they realised that this was not a diversion, but a full-scale invasion, they wanted to move, but the leader, who had decided he knew best and assumed command of the entire army, had stipulated that they should not move away because he was convinced that this was where the attack would come. Even when he was informed of the actual situation a day later, he still believed this was a diversion. The reason for that was the convincing but false information fed to his side by the attacking side, using his spies who had been captured and forced to send the fake information. As it was his own spies who were reporting the information, he believed their words.

So you see, it doesn’t matter whether the information is true or false, what matters is what the enemy leader (or leaders) believe is the truth.”

“Fascinating story. Even if the information you passed to our side was not true, it would make no difference?”

“It would make no difference whether I thought it was true or not. It is like a magic trick, where it is not the reality that counts, but what your eyes tell you they see. You will believe what your eyes see, even if it is an illusion.”

“How do you mean, an illusion? I am not familiar with that word.”

John said, “hmm, let me see ... the rainbow! The rainbow is an illusion, for there is nothing there in the sky.”

“You jest, surely? When a rainbow forms, it is there: you can’t deny it, High Chief.”

John said patiently, “What is there is what you are seeing; nothing more. From another angle of view, there is nothing to see, for it is a trick performed by the direction of light through raindrops. Sunlight shining through raindrops is bent slightly, and that bending splits the light into its component colours. Given enough raindrops with sun shining through, the vision expands into a bow shape, with the colours showing in the bow, giving what appears to the watcher as a rainbow. It remains a trick of the bending of light: an illusion.”

Drago seemed amazed. “You know this to be true, John: that sunlight is made up of many colours?”

“You can discover it for yourself, if you find a crystal that is a prism with shallow angles and let light shine through it. The colours will appear.”

John then spread his hands expressively. “It is a fact of life, unchanging, just like a stick standing in unmoving water looks bent. It is an illusion caused by the same fact of life: refraction. This is where light changes in speed as it passes through a denser liquid like water. Spearing a fish has the same problem: it is not positioned where you see it, but slightly offset due to refraction in the water.”

Drago held up a hand to halt John, and called to his guard, “Remble! When you went spear fishing, how did you catch the fish?”

“Speared them in the water, my lord; how else?”

“No. I meant, HOW did you manage to spear them? Could you see them in the water and just throw your spear in?”

“Yes, after a fashion. You have to allow for the water making them appear in a different position.”

“They are slightly off-set from where they appear to be? Is that it?”

“Indeed, my lord. Your knowledge is greater than mine about why this happens.”

“Thank you, Remble. Your reply is helpful.”

He returned to face John. “Your claim is found to be true, High Chief. Your expertise of the world is even wider than I assumed.”

John declared, “Not expertise, duke. I only understand the way the world works, and I apply that to my observations of it. Admittedly, I was well educated before I came here, so I have an advantage over many others. But what knowledge I have is not all that there is. Some people, like a clever shaman, can see things that are not there at all, to the normal eye; sometimes a vision of the future. Yet again, how do explain the power of love? That can be love for a child or parent, but also love for any other human being in trouble; what we called altruism.

You may decide to rescue someone from a perilous situation, at some risk, without any knowable reason for you to do so; there is no obvious advantage to yourself. That is a mystery I have seen, but do not appreciate why it should be so, in terms of knowable facts.

But what do you intend to do with yourself, Duke Drago, now that you have been released from your military service?”

“That is part of the reason I am here, High Chief. I hope to go and visit the northern civilisation, to become friends with them. Unfortunately, they are not where I expected them to be, it turns out.”

John offered, “Your best chance is get a ride aboard one of the merchant ships, one that intends to travel to the north continent. You could walk there, but it might take you a year to do so. You would need to offer a decent amount of trade items for your passage, as it is a fairly long voyage, allowing for trading stops on the way.”

John had observed the glances made by the duke’s bodyguard at the several women who bore a spear and laid it down alongside them when they ate. The man clearly was amused at this affectation by women; acting like warriors.

John thought it was time to sort him out.

“Duke, how effective is your bodyguard? Is he truly competent with a spear, or just uses it like a knife for defending you?”

The guard bristled, but Drago just laughed. “Try him out yourself, High Chief. Give him any challenge and he will surpass it.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking that way, Duke Drago. What I was envisaging is your man against one of my pregnant women warriors: Casting a spear accurately at a target, for instance. Distance is less important than accuracy in a fight, you will agree, though these women can manage a credible throw.”

Remble, the guard, bristled at the thought of being put up against a visibly pregnant woman, and wanted to refuse this as an insult to both of them, but the duke waved to him nonchalantly.

“Remble, let’s play his game. Show him how good you are. Select a target to aim at, and see if one of these expectant women can match you. Show the High Chief the error of his ways.”

Remble looked out at the forest, considered the woman’s smaller size, and said grudgingly, “If the start point is halfway down the slope, one of the trees at the edge of the forest would do as a target.”

John looked over at Raka, raising his eyebrows in question, for she was one of the smaller girls, but if she felt she could manage the challenge, it would have greater impact. She nodded to John, then walked to the cave entrance and looked downwards, pondering the task with her fingers on her chin.

She turned back to John and suggested in apparent innocence, “The distance proposed is a bit short, High Chief. Could it be a little longer?”

Remble snorted and answered before John could say anything. “Make it as long as you like, girlie. It is the accuracy that matters, and the longer the distance, the less easy it is to be accurate. It is something you have to learn, youngster.”

Raka just looked him in the eye. “So?”

He shrugged in annoyance, and ordered, “Choose the spot to launch the spears, girl, and the tree to aim for.”

Raka reached out an open hand to one side without looking back, and another girl immediately placed a spear there, which she grasped, then moved it horizontally to measure where the centre of balance was, and tested her grip. Once she was satisfied with her tests, she held the spear securely and walked out and down the slope to her preferred launch site which had a score mark in the grass. It was a mark that was familiar to her, for she had used it often and knew how well and how far she could throw a standard spear of the tribe. This would be no mere bravado on her part, but a demonstration of the tribe’s expectation of a warrior’s prowess.

She stood there and pointed to a tree with a broken branch sticking out to its left side. “That damaged one,” she offered, and he nodded.

Having selected her throwing spot, she asked Remble, “Would you like to throw first, old man?”

He blinked at the insult, but gave her an evil glare as he replied with a sneer, “Yes, I’ll show you how it is done.”

Raka stepped back to allow him to take over her spot, and he moved into position. He eyed up the tree trunk, took several steps backwards to give him a short run, then proceeded with his run to the launch spot and sent his spear arching through the air towards the tree. He watched confidently as his spear headed unerringly towards the chosen tree.

The spear arced down and hit the tree trunk a glancing blow and shot off to the side. Remble gave a satisfied grunt, saying, “There you are: a direct hit. See what you can do now.”

Raka went to the launch spot without speaking, turned and walked back five or six paces, and faced the target. She calmed her mind before starting her run, then when she was sure of her mental balance she trotted forward, speeding up as she approached the launch point with the spear held to her rear like a javelin. She thrust her foremost foot solidly to the ground and swung the spear smoothly round and off in the direction she was aiming for in her mind.

As she halted her forward momentum, she took a quick glance at her spear, and was happy with the trajectory. Now she looked at her opponent, ignoring her speeding weapon.

“I think that should do,” she remarked, and stood waiting. Her spear sped to the marked tree and penetrated into the trunk to the left of centre. She adopted a look of annoyance, stating, “Damn! I am off a little; my apologies for that error.”

Remble stood stock still, amazed at the girl’s prowess. His mouth fell open as he stared at the tree, where the spear stayed secure, showing it had ample power to penetrate and stay in position.

At last he found his voice.

“By the Earth Mother, that was some throw, young lady.”

Raka told him, “I knew what the spear could do, for I made it myself. The balance is a delicate choice, so I had to hold it at exactly the right position for it to fly correctly. You did very well, Remble, with a spear that was not the best it could be.”

“What? You made the spear you threw?” he blustered.

“Yes. I am the tribe’s Maker; it is my responsibility.”

“But ... then you are a Maker, not a warrior? I mean, a woman warrior, if such a thing exists.”

“Oh, I am both the tribe’s Maker, and a trained warrior. We don’t make any difference between a male warrior and a female warrior, as long as you can perform the task.”

“That is unheard of!” he exclaimed.

“Well, you have heard of it now, Remble. Is that not so?”

“So you are someone special. That is why you dared compete with me.”

“No. Any of our warriors should be able to do the same; it is expected of us.”

“So any warrior can throw as well as you?”

“I thought I just said that, but in different words.”

“Man or woman?”

“Either. A warrior cannot be a warrior in our tribe without training to the accepted standard. The same goes for firing arrows at an enemy, but not all are able to meet the challenging standard for that.”

Remble was thinking fast. “What do you mean by a standard?”

“Don’t you have a required standard of excellence for warriors in your own tribe, or military unit, or whatever? It means an ability to use a spear well enough to hit a target at a specific distance. Our standards are devised to make us able to defend the tribe from the cave or from any other spot. What is the point of having a spear if you cannot use it to good effect? It is a tool, just like a stone hammer: you need to know how to use it properly, to achieve the result you need.”

Remble was amazed. “You know what you are talking about, don’t you? You people must have a tribe here that is very special. A small number of warriors like you could be very dangerous opponents.”

“We are. We have seen off at least one large band of wanderers, and forced them to release their captives. High Chief John has trained us well. Some of our newcomers are still trying to reach the high standard to be accepted as warriors.”

“Who do you train as warriors, then?”

“Every adult who joins the tribe has to learn how to defend the tribe, so all get the basic training in weapon handling – spear, knife, and bow and arrow. The best are accepted as warriors; the rest have enough training to stop attackers getting into the cave: defenders. We have yet to lose a man or woman in battle. At most we have to deal with injuries,. But we have competent healers.”

Remble told her, “I must report back to Duke Drago, and apologise for being bested by a pretty young woman like you. Please excuse me, warrior.”

He quickly marched up the slope to the cave entrance, where John and the duke were standing. The Duke greeted him with a flat statement: “I saw, Remble: defeated by a young and pregnant woman. Disgraceful!”

“Sir, I was defeated by a female warrior who also makes the spears for this tribe. She is a talented woman, sir, and says the other warriors are all equally well trained at the spear throwing.”

“Trained?” Drago turned to speak to John. “What is this training, and of female warriors?”

John explained, “When I found how dangerous it was to be a small tribe, I decided that all adults in our tribe should be able to fight, and fight well. They go through the training I offer, and the best ones become warriors in addition to whatever position they have in the tribe.”

“All of them, and being warriors as secondary tasks? You have a most peculiar tribe, John.”

Numa interrupted, “It is MY tribe, Duke Drago, and what my husband John, the High Chief, says is true. All of our men and women are fit to fight for the tribe at any time, either as warriors or defenders.”

John explained, “The title of High Chief puts me as overlord to two tribes, Duke Drago, but I do not interfere in how these tribes are run. I am here for advice, training, and assistance as required. A king, as an example, does not run his own army; if he does, he is a fool and should leave it to those who know what they are doing.”

“If only that had been the case with our combined army. We had plenty of ‘kings’ yet no-one who knew what he was doing apart from issuing orders for what had to be achieved.”

“Yes, issuing orders is important, but if you issue orders, these orders must be sensible, clear and concise. A careless general once sent an order to a small part of his forces, without first considering the lie of the land and the forces in between: ‘Attack these guns, immediately!’ The guns – think of them as firing large metal arrows – were at the top end of a valley, with more enemy troops – warriors – on the ridges to both sides. The light force ordered to charge were at the bottom end of the valley and thus having to fight uphill, so it was a stupid command; but the men followed his orders exactly. They were trained to obey orders without questioning them. They attacked with bravery and a small number reached the guns and destroyed one of them before retiring the way they came, with more losses from the sides. The other guns escaped damage and were moved out of reach.

Most of the attacking force were killed or injured: a real waste of troops for little result, all down to a bad order issued at the wrong time and to the wrong troops, for there was another brigade of heavily armoured men available. It became famous in my era as the Charge of the Light Brigade.”

“You are full of tales of your former army and its exploits. It is a wonder you ever left there, High Chief.”

This simple statement triggered a long-hidden memory that John had completely forgotten, or had been hypnotised to forget it in his conscious mind. Officially he had been discharged at the end of his service contract, but under the radar he had been asked to go to America and infiltrate a neo-nazi organisation that threatened not just the USA but the whole world, according to the rumours his senior officers had heard. As a discharged and British army man, he would have been seen as a civilian used to taking orders without much argument.

His eyes widened as he became progressively more aware of his previously disguised status. It had not ever occurred to him to question why he had found himself in the US after leaving the SAS, and why he so quickly had involved himself with Vickie. The data now came to him. The rumour suggested that a member or close friend of her family was involved with the suspect group, but no-one had ever mentioned to him the possibility of time travel being involved. Now he knew, but was not in a position to intervene any more: the situation had resolved itself without him.