Mack Reynolds: The Space Barbarians

DeRudder cleared his throat. “All right,” he said. “Thank you.” !

John shrugged inwardly and turned again to leave.

He heard their voices, in excited conversation, when he had emerged into the long hall beyond. He made a face, accentuating his youth. The travelers from Beyond were certainly an incomprehensible group.

Robot, Sachem of the Clann Hawk, came hurrying up, his face anxious. As was usual, he was a clann elder and deserved the respect granted him by his clannsmen. Past the age of raiding, he devoted full time to participating in the government of the clann and of the phylum, and younger Hawks took over the burdens of herding the flocks and otherwise participating in the economies of the clann.

John saluted him respectfully.

The sachem said, “John! I left messages for you, but evidently you have failed to receive them. Your home has lid 11 relinquished to travelers.”

“Yes,” John said unhappily. “I am shamed. I intruded upon them.”

The sachem looked at him. “There was no intended discourtesy, and hence it was not unseemly.” He beamed suddenly. “Don of the darks has informed me of your triumph. If all wasn’t confusion, with the coming of the travelers from Beyond, I would insist we adjourn to my quarters, and over your first glass of uisgebeatha of manhood, you could tell me in detail. As it is, I must summon the visitors for the muster. But quickly, did you kill or wound any of the raiders?”

John smiled his satisfaction at the compliment of his clann sachem. “Robert of the Hawks, I counted coup on three of them.”

He was again awarded the goggling that had already been shown the warder of the gate and his two younger friends.

“Coup! On three ?” John nodded.

Robert stood suddenly straighter. “It will be until June-time before the next regular meeting of the muster, but on my own responsibility as Sachem of the Hawks, I grant you permission to sit with the clannsmen at this assembly.” John was stricken speechless.

The sachem turned to hurry on, but as he went he muttered, “Three! In all my life I have counted coup but twice. Three !”

John, in a daze of glory, made his way to the apartment of the cousin with whom he suspected his family would be quartered while the strangers occupied their usual chambers. He was correct, for although no one else was present he recognized various possessions of his mother, sisters and brother. He found a container of his own things as well, and after stripping and bathing, he put on fresh clothing.

He then went to the community kitchen and found food. There was no one else here, either, and he realized that all must be in the town square for the unusual muster of the sachems, caciques and sagamores.

Tired as he was, he made his way in the same direction, unable to resist the opportunity to join the clannsmen as a fellow. Ordinarily, he could have expected at least another five years of acting as a herdsman and scout before being raised to full clannsman.

The muster was in progress. The four strangers were seated together in positions of honor in the circle of the eight sachems of the Aberdeen Phylum. Behind them were seated the second circle of the phylum caciques, sagamores and noted raiders. Behind them were seated circles of clannsmen, each clann together. Beyond, a respectful distance, were standing the women, young men and children of the phylum, and beyond them, crowded against the walls of the council building, the great kirk, the phylum arsenal and the structure that held the archives, were the clannless ones.

Trying not to be ostentatious but failing miserably, John made his way through the ranks of women, children and younger men to where the Clann Hawk sat, passing his mother, brother and sisters as he went. They stared at him, uncomprehending, as he joined the full clannsmen and took a place.

There were a few raised eyebrows from his adult kynsmen, but none spoke. He knew they would hold him to account later, probably not having heard of the sachem’s permission for him to join them.

The eldest of the phylum sachems, Thomas of the Clarks, was speaking, he alone of the inner circles on his feet. The speech was predictable. He was welcoming the outworlders, tendering them the hospitality of Aberdeen as travelers in a strange land. Evidently, a bedel, or possibly one of the Keepers of the Faith, had already completed the praise.

When Thomas of the Clarks was finished—and he was a garrulous speaker—he resumed his place among the other claim sachems, and all eyes went to the newcomers.

The one who had announced himself as Skipper William Fowler came to his feet and cleared his throat. He looked about at the assembled muster and bobbed his head, in a sort of greeting, in all directions.

“You must forgive us if we are unacquainted with some of your customs,” he said. “As you know, we come from a great distance.”

Which was a strange thing to say, John thought. Surely customs were the same everywhere. The banns laid down by the Holy were as necessary on one world as on another, and surely the Holy presided over all creation.

The commander of the strangers was saying, “Briefly, we are part of the crew of the exploration Spaceship Golden Hind , and our assigned task is to map out this sector. We represent the League, a confederation of planets settled by the human race, originally from Earth. You will, of course, be invited to join the League. Frankly, we had been of the opinion that the Golden Hind was the first craft ever to penetrate this far into the galaxy. But here you are.”

Robert, Sachem of the Clann Hawk, came to his feet. His face duplicated the expressions of puzzlement of all the sat hems and caciques.

He said, “But honored guest, this League of which you speak—surely you must realize that this muster represents only the Phylum of Aberdeen, and we can speak only for ourselves. The meeting of the Dail, of all the Phyla of the Loch Confederation, would still only represent this immediate region. And even the Dail could speak only for our confederation. We know of twenty-three other confederations to the north, south, east and west, and how many more lie beyond, what man can say? Save for our two sister confederations, with whom we are at perpetual peace, of course, how could we possibly hold council with the others to decide whether to join this League?”

It was the skipper’s turn to frown lack of understanding. “You mean you are at war with all other, uh, confederations?”

“War?” Robert of the Hawks said in puzzlement.

“War. Conflict between nations, uh, that is, confederations.”

One of the caciques said, “Ah, he means raids.”

The skipper looked at him. “More than that. A conflict in which the full, uh, confederation would throw its united power against another confederation.”

A bedel came to his feet, his face in horror. “But that would be against the bann!”

The otherworld officer who had been introduced to John as DeRudder said hurriedly, “A taboo. Easy, Skipper.”

The leader of the strangers said smoothly to the bedel, “I was not advocating war, simply requesting information about the way of things on Caledonia.”

Thomas of the Clarks came to his feet. “Assuming that by some means it was possible to unite all the confederations of Caledonia into a gigantic Dail and all agreed to join this League—of what advantage would it be to us?” He sat again.

The skipper held out his hands in a gesture to indicate the answer was obvious. “Why, for trade, for one thing.”

One of the caciques spoke up. “Trade of what?”

The skipper said, “Why, that would have to be decided. Trade for the things you have in abundance, for goods, ideas, and so forth, of which you have need.”