Mack Reynolds: The Space Barbarians

“It is against the bann!”

“Then the bann must go!”

“The bann is the word of the Holy!”

“I doubt it. Who says so, besides the bedels and Keepers of the Faith?”

“It is against the bann to speak thus!”

“Then so be it, Donald of the Warrens. But if I and my clannsmen are to defeat the Sidonians, then we must use these new weapons. We must read the books and find still other methods to confound them. Can you tell me another way in which we can expel them from Caledonia?”

“Yes! By returning to the ways of the Holy. Since your breaking of the bann, his face has been turned from us. Thus our towns have been destroyed, our people slaughtered. It is all because we have turned from the faith of our fathers.” The bedel spun and addressed the chiefs. “I say John of the Hawks be cast down from his post as supreme raid cacique.”

David, eldest bedel of the Aberdeen Phylum, came to his feet. “I say John of the Hawks be cast down from his rank as Sachem of the Hawks.”

William of the Hawks, the clan bedel, came sadly to his feet. “I say John of the Hawks be cast down from clannsman and that his kilts be stripped from him.”

Don of the Clarks was on his feet. “I say the praises of John of the Hawks,” he shouted. “Who among us has so often been sung by the bards? Who among us has so often had the criers shout his exploits through the streets of the town?”

Donald of the Warrens said, “It has never been a question of the bravery of John of the Hawks or how often the bards have sung his praises. It is a matter of breaking the bann and bringing disgrace to the Clann Hawk, the Phylum of Aberdeen and to the entire Loch Confederation. He must go, before the Holy allows us all to be destroyed.”

William of the Davidsons called from the ranks of the sagamores, “I say the praises of John of the Hawks. Since he has led the clannsmen in raid, never before have we had such success. Why, even three days before, we killed sixteen or more of the men from Beyond and seized much of their property, and not one among us was lost. He is the greatest raid cacique that ever the bards have sung.”

And Donald of the Warrens answered doggedly, “It is not contended that John of the Hawks is not a leader of men. No one would ever brand him a slink. But it is not the matter. He violates the bann and thus turns the face of the Holy against us.”

Richard of the Fieldings was on his feet. “He has saved my life three times in raid. I say the praises of John of the Hawks!”

It was William Bedel of the Hawks, who answered this time, his voice infinitely sad. “He is my own kyn, but he breaks the bann and teaches that others break it. He must be cast down, or the faith of our fathers is destroyed.”

There were more to have their say, many more. First from the ranks of the sachems and caciques, then, in their turn, the clannsmen, but the final say was from Mildred, a Keeper of the Faith, as respected as any.

“The question today,” she said, her voice carrying, in spite of the softness of tone, “is not that of John of the Hawks. None would deny his position as our greatest raider. The question is, do we abandon our traditions, in our efforts against the men from Beyond, or do we go on secure in our faith in the Holy? I say, John of the Hawks must be stripped of his clannsman’s kilts and turned away.”

Ultimately, it was put to the vote of the sachems and caciques, and shock came over the face of John and his closest supporters when the vote carried by a small majority. He turned in his bewilderment to the assembly of the clannsmen, but when the vote was taken here his sholders slumped in disbelief.

Donald of the Warrens said, “It is now time to dishonor John, the clannless one. Who among all will volunteer?”

Several clannsmen and even caciques began to move forward, old enemies and rivals, John saw dully.

But Don of the Clarks stepped forward more quickly than any others. He stood before his former commander.

John shook his head. “And… and you, too, Don of the Clarks?”

Don, agony in his face, struck him symbolically with his coup stick. “Only that none other could dishonor my blood comrade,” he said hoarsely.

He reached out and unbuckled the belt of John’s kilts and pulled them away. A clannsman came up and proffered the colorless kilt of a clannless field worker. Dully, John belted it about his hips.

Don had taken the bolstered laser pistol that John had appropriated from DeRudder. Now he took it to the cornet.

“You’d best have this,” he said flatly. “On your return, you will possibly be subjected to raiders. Not of this confederation, but others do not know of your position as messenger from this Dail to New Sidon City.”

Samuel DeRudder belted the holster about him. He gestured with a thumb toward John, who, his head low, was being escorted away by two clannsmen, both of whom wore shame on their faces.

“What happens to him now?” DeRudder said.

“What matter to you?” Don of the Clarks growled.

“I just wondered,” DeRudder said dryly. “There goes the man that but a few hours ago you named the hope of the Caledonians.”

Don of the Clarks and Cornet Samuel DeRudder ate before the Sidonian was again blindfolded, mounted on a horse and led away by the Clann Clark Raid Cacique. During their ride of an hour or more, Don said little, immersed in his own bitter thoughts.

Finally they halted, and the blindfold was removed.

Don of the Clarks pointed. “In that direction lies your cursed New Sidon City. You will probably not make it before late tomorrow, at earliest. In your saddlebags are bread and meat. For the sake of your message, I hope you are not stumbled upon by raiders from the Highland Confederation or those from Ayr.”

DeRudder looked at him questioningly. “Your friend John seemed to be in favor of uniting with these other confederations to combat us. I wonder why you haven’t done it.”

Don looked at him uncomfortably. “Perhaps because although it is not against the bann, it is not meet. The Keepers of the Faith oppose such large scale raids that whole confederations would be involved. Too much of the blood would be spilt.”

DeRudder laughed suddenly. “The United Interplanetary Mining Company ought to subsidize these Keepers of the Faith of yours.”

The clannsman’s face darkened, but he said nothing.

Instead, his eyes had gone to the ground, and he scowled at something he evidently saw there.

He said, “I’ll go on with you for a way.”

DeRudder was mystified but shrugged it off and kicked heels into the side of his beast.

A few minutes later, he saw the reason for the other’s continued presence. They topped a rise and sported before them John, trudging across the heath, alone and unmounted.

He heard them shortly and turned. His face was empty.

Don drew up and dismounted. He unstrapped the harness around his waist and held out the claidheammor and skean scabbards and the reins of his animal.

He said simply, “I can walk back.”

John looked at him. Finally he said, “As a clannless one, I am forbidden the wearing of the claidheammor.”

Don said, “Yes, I know. And any clannsman who found you without clann kilts and bearing arms would attack you. But what is the alternative… John? Your only way to survive now would be to enter the longhouse of some clann as a servant. And I do not think he who was once supreme raid cacique could ever become a servant. I understand that in the mountains some clannless ones, products of the destroyed towns, have banded together and survive by raiding both the Sidonians and the phyla. Perhaps you can find them.”

John shook his head at him in surprise. “You would have me turn into a clannless bandit?”