Mack Reynolds - The Space Barbarians

Will took a deep breath. “I am sorry for John of the Hawks and bear him no ill will, but the Clann Thompson refuses to allow him to steal Alice for his bride.”

Robert glowered at him in frustration. Finally he said, “As sachem, undoubtedly you are also a Keeper of the Faith. I ask that you look into the Holy books. All that is there, all about the holy chromosomes, the sacred nature of which has been lost to us since the misty years, urges that the clanns mix their blood. So it is that Hawk cannot marry Hawk, nor Thompson marry Thompson. Although it is not against the bann to marry within the phylum, so long as you steal your bride from another clann, still the Holy books urge that brides be stolen from other towns, so that the blood be even more widely mixed. Such is the teaching of the chromosomes, although we know not what chromosomes may be.”

Will sighed, shook his head and came to his feet. “May the bards sing your exploits, Robert of the Hawks. However, it is impossible. There is not a family in the Clann Thompson but has lost close kyn to the raiding Hawks. Too much violence has transpired between us. And now, with all respect to the Sachem of the Hawks”—he looked over at John—“and to its raid cacique, I will repair to the bar and continue to enjoy the hospitality of Aberdeen.”

He turned his back and walked away.

Robert got up, approached John and put a hand on his shoulder. “I tried.”

John nodded. He turned away and left the tent.

He knew where to find her. The women of the Phylum of Caithness were famed for their handwoven textiles and, at each meeting of the Dail, erected several booths for bartering.

Alice of the Thompsons must have seen him approaching even before he spotted her, since when he came up her face was already slightly flushed, as became a good lass being looked upon by the man who loved her.

As he came up, she kept her eyes lowered and said, “May I interest you in this kilt material, Clannsman of the Hawks?”

John said, “Ten years, Alice.”

She put down the material and looked up, her own misery a reflection of his. “You appear well, John of the Hawks. The Holy has seen fit to preserve you through the, year since the last Dail, even though now you are a raid cacique and subject to much danger.”

“Yes,” he said. “And you look… well, Alice of the Thompsons.” He held his silence for a long time, merely looking at her. Finally, “I have had Robert, sachem of our clann, speak in my behalf to Will.”

She said nothing but lowered her eyes again to the bolts of material on the improvised counter before them. One of her small hands went out and picked meaninglessly at a thread.

He said, “It was as always before.”

“I know.” Then suddenly, in a rush, “John, why do you not choose a lass of Aberdeen? It is hopeless. My people pride themselves on their sense of revengement. Even the bann does not prevent them from carrying spite beyond the assembly of the Dail.”

He said, “And why do you not choose from among the young clannsmen of Caithness who clamor for the right to steal you as a bride?”

There was no answer, but her flush had reappeared.

A Thompson clannsman approached, his hand negligently on the hilt of his claidheammor, which was uncalled for at this, a meeting of the Dail of the Loch Confederation.

He said, “Do you then speak to an unwed lass of the Thomspons, clannsman of the Hawks?”

John looked at him emptily. “Only in passing, Clannsman,” he said. “No disrespect of the Clann Thompson is intended.” He turned and walked away, Alice looking after his tall, straight figure in misery.

As he went, John heard the voice of one of the older Thompson women tending the booths. She was exclaiming, “But it is ridiculous. Someone has stolen from the bolt of Thompson kilt material! How could it be? The material is useless to any save a Thompson clannsman, and certainly a Thompson could never steal from a fellow clannsman. It is against the bann.”

Another voice said, “You must have mislaid it. As you say, it is useless except to us Thompsons. Besides, stealing at a Dail is unheard of.”

He headed for one of the men’s tents. John of the Hawks was not much of a drinking man, as Caledonian drinking men went, but he could think of nothing else for the immediate moment.

However, the conch sounded then, and a crier went by calling, “The assembly of the Dail convenes! The Dail convenes!”

John reversed his direction and headed for the temporary amphitheaterlike stands where the sachems and caciques were to be seated. His report on the spaceship from Beyond was sure to be early on the schedule, and he would have to be there with Robert of the Fieldings.

On his way he saw Don of the Clarks and said to him from the side of his mouth, “You got it, eh?”

Don grinned at him.

John said, “Nobody spotted you? Nobody at all?”

Don shook his head. “I took no chances. What a cry would have gone up, under the circumstances. The Keepers of the Faith would have howled for my kilts.”

John grunted. He said, “Now the problem is to get someone who will sew them for us. Someone capable of keeping her mouth shut.”

In mild indignation, Don said, “Sally, of course! My wife is a lass who is game for ought. And besides, she knows your woe and is as indebted to you as I am myself. It would be unseemly for her not to offer her services.”

“She will not feel shamed? I would not shame the lass.”

“Certainly not! It is a lark. Besides, no one will ever know.”

“All right,” John said. “And the sooner the better. We would not want some sharp minded Thompson to think out the theft to its obvious conclusion.”

Aberdeen did not possess a hall large enough to seat the assembled sachems and caciques of the Loch Confederation. Few towns in the confederation did. As an alternative, they had built a wooden stand on the heath outside the city walls. A half moon in shape, it reared six tiers of seats in height. Each sachem sat with his caciques, whose number differed in each clann. The office of sachem was permanent, in that the man elected to the position held the office for life, unless removed by majority vote, and upon his death, a new sachem was chosen. A cacique, however, was raised up to his position through deeds of merit or special abilities, and his chieftainship died with him.

As Raid Cacique of the Hawks, John sat with his sachem, Robert, the agricultural cacique, the two caciques of the herds and the hunting cacique. Other clanns numbered more caciques, sometimes having as many as three raid caciques alone. It made no difference in the voting. Each clann had one vote, no matter the size or the number of its representatives to the Dail.

When all were seated, phyla by phyla, Bertram of the Fowlers, eldest of all the bedels, open the meeting by saying the praise to the Holy. When he was through, he left the amphitheater and retreated to the ranks of the bedels and Keepers of the Faith, who stood nearest of all to the assembly of chiefs, even before the sagamores. Beyond the sagamores were the full clannsmen and behind them, the women. Children and clannless ones were not allowed to participate in the Dail.

Thomas of the Polks, eldest of all sachems in the Loch Confederation, came to his feet and walked in dignity to the amphitheater’s center. He looked up at his fellow chiefs.

“If there is no word of protest, the first matter to come before the Dail will be that of the strangers from Beyond. Since their advent was first here in Aberdeen, a decade and more past, I shall turn the rostrum over to Robert of the Hawks, senior sachem of the Aberdeen Phylum, if there is no word of protest.”

He stood a moment in silence. No one spoke. Thomas of the Polks returned to his place on the lowest level of seats.