Mack Reynolds - The Space Barbarians

It was no time for feminine shame. She lifted the skirt of her gown and tore a long strip from her undergarment. John and Dewey stood anxiously to the side, staring down at their wounded companion. They had seen carbine hits before, and this one boded no good.

Alice worked deftly. She, too, had seen men torn in combat in the past. Indeed, she had lost all her immediate male kyn in such fray.

Finally she came to her feet. She turned, and for the first time she looked into John’s face. “He should rest,” she said. “And he shouldn’t be moved for a time.”

John of the Hawks shook his head. “For the moment, we have shaken them. But they must have a dozen troops scouring the heath, and we are barely over the line into the preserves of Aberdeen.”

Her voice level, Alice said, “The proof is there before you. He should not be moved. Leave him here with me, and I will await them. I pledge on the honor of the Clann Thompson that he will not be killed but taken into our clann as a servant.”

“And stripped of my kilts and made a clannsless one?” Don snorted. He rolled to one side and struggled to get to his feet. Dewey bent and helped him.

“Tie me to my steed,” Don ground out. “I’ll make it.”

John rode on one side of him, Dewey the other, and they took up the way again to Aberdeen.

As they neared the main gate, they could hear the conch sound.

Dewey groaned, “You forgot to change. You’re still wearing the kilts of the Clann Thompson!”

They were already within carbine range.

Dewey dashed forward, desperately, his hands high above his head. He alone among them wore the kilts of a clanns-man of Aberdeen.

By the time John, Alice and Don had arrived at the gate, the warder and his men had been sufficiently warned to do no more than boggle at them. Never before had they seen proud clannsmen, fellow phyletics, attired in the kilts of another phylum. Never, for that matter, had they seen a bride literally stolen.

But John had no time now for explanations or reflecting in glory, though surely the criers would shout this to the housetops, far into the day.

He snapped, “Don of the Clarks is sore wounded. Hurry him to his bedel.”

Four men untied the wounded clannsman from his saddle and, as gently as ever they could, carried him away. They ignored his shame. Don of the Clarks had long since fainted.

John looked after him for a long moment In dismay but then shook his head. First, he had other duty.

He turned to Alice and said, “Lass, I will take you to be presented to the Sachem of the Clann Hawk.”

She could do nothing but abide by the correct procedure. She followed after him. Phyletics, both male and female, adult and child, watched their progress to the long-house of the Hawks, and largely eyes were wide, and many looked askance.

Word had evidently gone on before them, since when they knocked at the door of the quarters of the sachem, they were immediately bidden to enter, and Robert of the Hawks stood there in his living room. Several of the members of his immediate family were also there, eyes wide, but he dismissed them, a bit curtly.

He ignored Alice and looked John directly in the eye. John failed to quail. “I present Alice of the Thompsons, whom I have honorably stolen to be my bride.”

“Honorably! You have then, without doubt, paid the brideright to her kyn!”

John said doggedly, “It is not against the bann. For long years I approached the Clann Thompson through their sachem at the yearly meetings of the Dail. And always I was refused. I read deep into the Holy Books and all accounts that have come down to us from the misty years and before.”

Robert, Sachem of the Hawks, was interested. “And what did you find there?”

“That in the old days, before the Keepers of the Faith had devised upon the present method of paying brideright, and thus eliminating much shedding of blood, clannsmen were wont to steal their brides at point of claidheammor, and it was not against the bann to do so.”

“But it is against the bann now!”

John looked him in the eye. “No. It is not against the bann. At most it is unseemly and not meet, but it is not against the bann, and I have had great provocation.”

The sachem thought about it. He said finally, “I will consult the Keepers of the Faith and the clann bedel and will inform you of our decision later. And now”—he turned to Alice of the Thompsons—“until you have been taken by John as his bride—if that is allowed to happen—you will be a servant lass.” He added, his voice more kindly, “I will take you into my own family, and my wife will make you at home and show you your light duties. Perhaps Hawk has been shamed by your abduction, and you will be returned to your kyn.”

She said evenly, “If I am returned to my kyn, I will be shamed and undoubtedly stripped of my clann position, for I failed to attempt my life upon being stolen.”

His voice was still kindly. “I will mention that aspect to the Keepers of the Faith,” he said. “However, I am sure you were seized by force and hence could not honorably take your own life.”

Alice was a well brought up lass and knew how to conduct herself before a sachem. She said, “I submit to Robert of the Hawks.”

It was unseemly now for John of the Hawks to speak further to her. He saluted his chief and turned to go.

But Robert said, a different tone in his voice, “A moment, John. What transpired? I suspect, if the Keepers of the Faith report that all is well and that the bann has not been broken, that the bards will sing this exploit.”

Avoiding the eyes of Alice, since her clannsmen had been shamed in the events, John said, “As soon as the Dail had adjourned, I, with Dewey of the Hawks and Don of the Clarks, rode by back routes to Caithness. While Dewey guarded the horses, Don and I scaled the walls and—”

“You entered Caithness!”

“Yes. And hid ourselves in the quarters of Alice of the Thompsons until she appeared. We then seized her and made our escape, Don of the Clarks counting coup upon three of her kyn and I counting second coup on one.”

“Counting coup at such a time! How many, then, did you find it necessary to kill? Aüi, the vendetta will rage this year. I must triple the guard on the herds before the day is out.”

John said, “We spilled no blood, thinking it not meet under the circumstances. At least we spilled none in Caithness, though perhaps Dewey and Don did whilst covering our retreat.”

Robert stared at him, though he himself had long been a man of action. He said, “The bards will certainly long sing this exploit. I have never heard, in their oldest praise, of such an event.”

John said, “With your permission, Robert, I shall now go to Don of the Clarks, who was badly wounded in the fray.”

“Aüi, lad, hurry. I know how close you are.” Robert turned to Alice. “Come now, and I will present you to my good wife. You have no fear in this longhouse, Alice of the Thompsons.”

“I have no fear,” she said, and let her eyes follow John as he left, which was slightly unseemly but only amused Robert of the Hawks, who was himself married to a lass of Caithness, though not a Thompson. Perhaps his wife was acquainted with Alice…

John stared down at Don of the Clarks, who was sprawled on a cot in his quarters in the Clark longhouse. The bedel was there, as was Sally, but the two young children had been hustled from the room.

Don’s face was flushed and had a thin, drawn look that was bad.

The bedel said, “I fear the fleshrot.”

Sally held the back of her right hand to her mouth.

John said, “It is too early to know that.” There was accusation in his tone.

The bedel shook his head. He was an old man, well versed in medicine. At least, as well versed as any in Aberdeen. “I am not sure, but I fear. The wound should have been cleaned more promptly and better, and the spider dust should have been applied.”