The Tattooed Tribes (18 page)

“
I thought he was going to kill you,”
Lucien replied. “I really did!”

“
Did you? And what did you base that
assessment on?”

Lucien thought
about what he had seen and stuck his bottom lip out.

“
It
looked
as if he was going to kill you,” he growled.

Jon gave him a
hard, exasperated look.

“
It may have looked that way, but what you
were seeing was an old tribal custom,” he explained. “It is a way
to take tension out of a possibly dangerous situation, by allowing
feelings to be vented in a controlled way. Sometimes things can get
a little more heated than is desirable, which is why an outsider is
welcome in the middle. As I would’ve told you once the whole thing
was over.”

Lucien
blushed.

“
What did I tell you to do?”

Hoping this
was a rhetorical question Lucien avoided answering, only to have
his head forced up and the question repeated.

“
Stay out of it and do nothing,” he
muttered.

“
Exactly!
” Jon snapped. “But you walked into a
situation you knew nothing about despite everything I
said.”

“
I thought you were in danger,” Lucien
explained again.

“
Did you indeed? And shooting one of the
main protagonists was likely to make me safer.” Jon retorted.
“
You
are a bloody young
fool!”

“
I’m sorry.”

“
Not as sorry as you’re going to be,” Jon
replied grimly, reaching for his belt.

There was a
huge open air feast that night. The Bear people and the Forest Cat
danced long into the night and the great bonfires blazed, sending
sparks flying into the velvet blackness of the sky.

It was a
magnificent sight; around the leaping flames the women wove complex
and graceful circle dances and the gold rings on their fingers
catching the light and glowing.

After them
came the passion of the warriors as they re-enacted their stories
of valour and war, honour and the hunt. Spear points flashed and
axe heads gleamed and all the time there was the steady beating of
drums, the trilling of pipes and the singing of a hundred
voices.

It was a
fantastic spectacle and Lucien watched all of it, his mouth open in
wonder and delight.

Jon would
never have deprived him of seeing his first tribal celebration, no
matter how badly he had behaved, but he made sure he watched the
whole thing standing up.

Chapter
12

Lucien was
subdued the next morning and inclined to sulk, but Jon ignored him
and behaved as if nothing had happened.

Although he
would never have admitted it, Jon’s punishment had shocked Lucien.
His father’s reaction to misbehaviour had always been either
sneering contempt or totally indifference; he had never made any
attempt to correct his son or to show him another, better way to go
on.

His mother
would wring her hands in despair, weep and then spend hours trying
to get him to explain his motives for doing whatever it was he had
done to make her wring her hands and weep. Of the two, he preferred
his father’s approach.

Jon was not
indifferent, nor did he wring his hands in despair. Lucien’s
motives for his action were only of interest because it gave him a
good idea of what needed correction and he was going to correct
anything he thought needed it. It was the method he had chosen that
had shaken Lucien to his boots.

It had always
been the ultimate sanction, but it was not one he had been bothered
about because he never believed Jon would really do it and even if
he did, so what, it might hurt a bit, but that was all.

What he had
not anticipated was the humiliation, and he was having trouble
dealing with it. In his heart of heart’s he thought he had deserved
everything he got, but his wounded pride came up with a whole load
of reasons why he had been ill used and, as a result, he had no
desire to be on friendly terms with his mentor just yet.

Jon ignored
this as well.

“
Once you’re dressed you can go and see
Feilda and get her to give you some breakfast,” Jon told
him.

“
Feilda?” Lucien asked warily.

“
Iesgood wife,” Jon replied. “You can mend
your fences with Vlic at the same time.”

“
I’m not too hungry,” Lucien lied. “I think
I’ll skip breakfast.”

“
Do as you’re told,” Jon said.

“
But …”

“
Now
!”

Reluctantly
Lucien went. On the way he was sure everyone was looking at him
indignantly or laughing at him. By the time he got to the cabin he
was scowling and tight lipped. He might well have been rude to his
hostess, but he had a fair idea what Jon’s reaction would be if he
was and the lady herself did not invite disrespect.

She was
definitely
laughing at him, but not in an unkind
way.

“
Here,” she said. “Sit down and eat … if
you can.”

Around the
table were a couple of youngsters spooning some sort of mush into
their mouths and a toddler secured to a chair was also trying to
find her mouth with a spoon- the bits she missed she scooped up
with her fingers and stuffed in with a great deal of relish.

Across from
them Vlic sat watching him. They eyed each other warily, but
neither spoke.

The two
youngsters, a boy and a girl, wriggled with gleeful anticipation,
they could feel the tension in the air and eagerly awaited what
they hoped would be a gloriously dramatic encounter. They howled
with disappointment when their mother sent them out as soon as they
had finished their breakfast.

She whisked
the baby up and took her away to be scrubbed, but before she left
she said, “Talk! Both of you … and no hitting.”

The silence
went on for some time.

“
You doing much today?” Vlic finally
growled.

“
Dunno,” Lucien replied. “Depends on what
Jon says.”

There was
another long pause.

“
I thought I might go and see the shield
maker,” Vlic said.

“
I’ve never seen how you make a
shield.”

“
Wanna come?”

“
Might as well.”

Peace was thus
restored without any embarrassment or humiliation on either
side.

They exhausted
the patience of the shield maker long before he had exhausted their
interest. He was a busy man with the talk of war on every lip and
instructing a couple of over-excited boys in the mysteries of
boiled leather and bent wood frames was not on his agenda.

Finally sent
away, they wandered around looking for something else to do and
would probably have fallen into mischief, but the sudden throb of
drums brought both of them back to the meeting house at the
trot.

Uninvited,
they slipped in behind the men, keeping their heads down and hoping
not to be noticed.

The women
Elders were gathered in their semi-circle and Iesgood, Jon and
Dwerek stood before them, the warriors and other women standing
behind and around.

“
Harabin
dheillwer
,” Bweriit began. “Have you consulted with
Iesgood
liedwer
and
Dwerek
liedwer
?”

“
I have, ma’am,” Jon replied. “First we
must return to the place where Clieviis was slain and see if any
clues remain.”

She nodded and
glanced about at her fellows, who silently agreed.

“
What is your plan after this?”

“
Whoever did this will have left traces of
their passing. Some of us will look overland through the forest and
the rest will go up the river by canoe to see if they went that
way.”

Bweriit nodded
approval.

“
There are many tributaries higher up where
the river divides,” Jon continued. “If we find no trace before, we
will meet there and send a party along each spur until we do find
them.”

“
We will hunt them as we hunt the bison
before the rut,” Iesgood said with relish and there was a roar of
agreement from the warriors present.

“
This is good,” Bweriit announced. “You men
see to your weapons and you women look to supplies and choose which
amongst you will go with them.”

“
Women are going with us?” Lucien whispered
to Vlic.

“
Of course they are,” Vlic hissed back.
“The old biddies will want a true account of the hunt and they
won’t believe any of us. Plus we’d all get a heck of an ear bashing
if we tried to stop the girls having fun as well.”

Lucien glanced
over to the group of young women who had eagerly stepped forward;
by and large they were all a bit older than him, but still a few
years away from their true marriages. Slim and graceful, their skin
still undamaged by the climate, they were a very attractive group
of girls.

Lucien could
see any number of good reasons for having them along. Who knew what
dangers might lurk out there to scare a girl into the arms of a
convenient man. A number of potential ‘dangers’ rose up in his mind
and put a smile on his face, but Vlic jabbed him in the ribs.

“
Forget it!” he advised morosely. “They
aren’t going to waste their time on either of us.” He waved his
hands under Lucien’s nose. “They aren’t interested in anyone with
bare fingers.”

Lucien sighed
and resigned himself to just looking, until a more urgent thought
came to him.

“
Hey!” he hissed. “I’ll be going, won’t
I?”

“
Dunno,” Vlic replied. “I’m hoping Dad will
take me, but he might be mean.”

They both
slipped away as the talk got technical and involved boring things
like water canteens and dried fish and jerky. All very necessary,
but dull.

Lucien went
back to the Men’s House and began stripping down his rifle and
cleaning it properly. He was still engaged on this task when Jon
arrived.

“
Shall I do yours?” he asked
casually.

Jon’s lips
twitched. “You might as well. You can run my knife over the whet
stone as well.”

“
Okay.”

“
I need to choose a short axe,” Jon
continued. “I prefer them for close work. Better than a war club,
in my opinion.”

“
Really,” Lucien said, trying to keep any
excitement from his voice. “Should I pick one for myself as
well?”

“
Why would you need to?” Jon
asked.

This was too much and Lucien threw down
his cleaning rag. “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?” he
cried. “I’ll behave, I promise I will. I’ll do
exactly
as you tell me.”

“
You’d better!” Jon said. “Make sure you
put an edge on my axe, but chose a war club for yourself, an axe
takes a bit of practice; a club is a more forgiving
weapon.”

There was
something about having a war club hanging from his belt, knocking
softly against his thigh that made Lucien feel several inches
taller as he strode off to find Vlic.

He found him
packing spare bow strings into his pouch and checking over his
arrows; his travelling pack stood ready and waiting for him.

The boys
clapped each other on the back and whooped about for a bit until
Vlic’s sister came in to mock them.

The war band
did not leave for another two days and Jon kept Lucien’s excitement
levels down by a combination of finding and chopping fire wood for
several women, enough to see them through several winters in
Lucien’s opinion, and lots and lots of memorising the TLG rule
book.

It was almost
an anti-climax when they finally pushed the canoes out into the
open water and began the hard paddle up stream against the
current.

For the first
hour or so Lucien was aware of a sense of disappointment, but he
chanced a glance back and saw the river behind him was full of
boats. In every one, the paddles rose and fell in a steady rhythm,
slicing through the rippling water and powering the flotilla
forwards.

He turned away
with a wide grin on his face.

At the end of
the day he was exhausted, unused to the pace and the physical
demands of hours of paddling. He wanted to take his turn at guard
duty and after a brief argument Jon agreed he could do so, but
‘forgot’ to wake him when the time came and he slept through until
morning.

He was
inclined to be indignant at first, but he saw Iesgood and several
other men who had brought their younger sons with them had done the
same thing. He began to wonder if the regard he had for Jon might
be reciprocated and it gave him a good feeling.

Another two
days of paddling brought them to a great bend in the river and here
the party to continue by foot disembarked. Lucien stood with Jon, a
dozen or so warriors and some of the girls to wave as Iesgood, with
Vlic at his side, led the fleet around the bulge of the land and
on, upstream and out of sight. They were to carry on to where the
river met a change in the rock and divided itself into many parts,
some great, some small.

When the very
last canoe vanished, Jon turned his back on the river and led his
party inland.

Lucien was
used to seeing the land cleared of trees for farming and
habitation, but this was the first time he had seen a natural
meadow. A knee-high sea of green spread before him, dotted with
small, pale flowers bravely holding their faces up above the grass
to the sun. The tree line, far in the distance, was a dark green
fringe to this undulating ground.