Mack Reynolds: The Space Barbarians

Up the hill, shouting again the halloo of the Clann Hawk, up and over the crest. He galloped to his own steed and Hung himself from the saddle of the girl’s horse, into the one to which he was more accustomed, without descending to the ground.

He took up the reins of the three remaining captured beasts and started off, making a beeline for Aberdeen and the security of the town of his birth. He was chuckling happily now. He had taken his risk, and all had come off as though rehearsed.

He had counted coup on three of the redoubtable Clann Thompson raiders and had stolen their horses and most of their weapons. How the town would respond! How the criers would shout his name. Though he was but of seventeen years, none would dare speak against his being raised up to full participation in the phylum. The sachem himself would acclaim him, the caciques and sagamores. He would be a man among men and free to participate in the muster.

He pushed hard, not sparing the horse.

When he had ridden out of Aberdeen, a single lad on a horse, though warned by his uncles to take care, if he went beyond the lands of the clann there were none to say him nay. A clann does not remain strong by preventing its young men from learning to scout, to raid, to defend themselves from the foe. But he had been in comparatively little danger then. Had he run into a raiding party of Bruces, Davidsons or Thompsons, for that matter, he could honorably have run for it, being one against many. And it would have been unlikely the others would have taken after him, there being small profit in chasing lads still not of full phyletic age.

But he was now in possession of worthy booty and fair game for any clannsman, save the Hawks and the sister clanns, of course, did any spot him returning to Aberdeen.

He rode through the night, the pace being awkward since he continued to hold on to the reins of the captured beasts, rather than try to herd them. They were unused to him and nervous, after all the excitement, and he was afraid of losing one or more in the night.

He entered Aberdeen in the early afternoon of the following day, both he and the animals exhausted. He had paused along the way only for water. His luck had held, and he had seen no clannsmen, not even his own kyn.

At the gate, the warder goggled at him. The other was a Fielding, not a Hawk, but he knew John well, having stolen a Hawk girl as his bride.

“Where in the name of the Holy did you find those animals, John of the Hawks?” he called.

“It was nothing,” John grinned down at him. “I came out from ambush upon three, nay four, if one counts women, of the Clann Thompson. I confounded them and seized these, their horses, as well as two carbines and these other trappings you see.”

The other was still staring. “Did you kill any?” he demanded, unbelievingly. He was fully aware that John was under no compulsion to tell the truth to him, a Fielding and hence not a clannsman of John’s even though of the same phylum.

“ Kill any?” John said loftily, still grinning. “I counted coup on all three!”

The other snorted. “As to that, I will wait to hear your declamation before the muster.” He snorted again. “No one exaggerates before the assembly of the muster. That is the bann.”

But John was a man now, before men, and he said coldly, “Do you suggest that I would break a bann, before the muster or anywhere else, warder of the gate?”

The other grunted but backtracked, being in the wrong and knowing it and also being conscious that whether or nut John was exaggerating, somehow he had acquired three priceless battle steeds, the proof being there before him.

“No, I make no such suggestion, John of the Hawks. Enter, and congratulations.”

John was grinning again, even as he herded the loot before him. “There will be shouting of my name by the criers tonight,” he boasted.

The other had his petty revenge. “I doubt it,” he said.

John halted his horses and scowled puzzlement. “How do you mean?” he demanded. “How long has it been since either a Hawk or a Fielding counted coup on three raiders in a single day and seized their possessions as well?”

“A long time indeed, John of the Hawks, and your feat is praiseworthy. But unfortunately for your moment of honor, the muster is to go into session shortly.”

It was John’s turn to stare. “The muster! But this is only Apriltime.”

“Yes, and ordinarily the sachems and caciques would not join in the muster for three months; but they are gathering to discuss the travelers from Beyond.”

“Beyond? Beyond what?”

“You do not read the Holy books sufficiently, lad,” the warder said condescendingly. “Surely you have heard of Beyond.”

“But that’s legend! Myth!”

“You’d better not let any Keeper of the Faith hear you say that. Besides, the proof is there before you. Two days before this, the ship from the sky arrived, landing between Aberdeen and Dumbarton. The travelers from Beyond sent out a group and now accept the hospitality of our town.”

John gaped.

For the moment, however, the sensational news could wait. John was weary and hungered beyond the point where anything else mattered. He rode toward his clann’s long-house, somewhat miffed at the timing of his moment of glory. Travelers from Beyond, indeed!

At the entrance to the longhouse, two of his closest friends duplicated the goggling of the warder of the gate.

John of the Hawks dismounted with considerable dignity and tossed his reins to one of the others.

“Don of the Clarks,” he said loftily, “be a good lad and take my animals to the pastures.” He looked at the other young man, who wore kilts similar to his own, those of the Clann Hawk. “And Dewey, would you mind, first, stripping the animals of the weapons and harness and taking them to the council hall, until I need them in my declamation before the muster, upon being raised up to the phylum?”

The one addressed as Dewey stuttered, “Where… where… where… ?”

But John raised a hand, exaggerating his weariness. “Later, lads, later. You’ll hear it all when each clannsman recites his victories to the assembly.”

He turned and entered the community house and headed for his family’s quarters.

They called after him, something urgent, but he was too tired now to chatter with them, no matter the glory. He wanted food, a bath and fresh clothing. The aftereffects of the excitement and hard riding were upon him.

In the small room that was his own, he began to strip but then paused, scowling. He could hear voices in the next room, the family living quarters, but they were not the voices he recognized, those of his mother, younger brother and two sisters. They were adult male voices, and now he realized they spoke with a strange accent.

He went to the door and pressed an ear against it, frowning still in puzzlement. The voices were clearer now. One was saying, “Well, you’re the nearest thing to an ethnologist we’ve got. What do you think?”

There was a pause before another voice said hesitantly and dourly, “I’m no ethnologist, and your guess is probably as good as mine. I’d say they’re the result of a crash of some pioneer group, Skipper. A very bad crash, since they lost communication.’”

“Why pioneers? Why not some passenger ship?”

“For one thing, they’ve got horses and cattle. Even trees of Earthside type, now adapted, of course, to this world’s ecology. Besides, what would a passenger ship be doing this far in ?”

A third voice broke in. “What was a pioneer ship doing this far in, for that matter? From what we’ve seen so far, they’ve been here a long time. They’re obviously originally an Earth culture, but they don’t seem to have much more than legends about their origins.”