"The Space Barbarians" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

Chapter Three

In times past, the meetings of the Loch Confederation Dail had been held each year in a different phylum of the loosely united claims. Today, with many of the towns leveled by the beams and bombs of the Sidonian invaders, it had convened in a large natural amphitheater in the mountains. Unlike the past, there were few women present, and there was little bartering going on. The invasion from the stars had cut the population, although the rate of decline had slackened now that the clannsmen had adapted to the new methods of warfare.

As John of the Hawks and his prisoner and small troop came riding in, he let his eyes go about the vicinity. There were large natural caves, which had been increased in size even further through the efforts of the clannsmen. He nodded approval. In case of discovery by the enemy, all would be able to find shelter.

He said to Don of the Clarks, “Remove the blindfold from the eyes of Samuel of the DeRudders and have him put under guard. He would never be able to find this place again. I go first to see to the emplacing of the laser rifles, to defend us if we are raided whilst in session. Then I go to report to my fellow sachems.”

Don grinned at him. “Stay clear of the bedels, John. Rumor has it that they are out for your kilts, for the proof is here before us that you have broken the bann a dozen times over.”

John of the Hawks snorted. “And will break ft a dozen times more, if ever we are to defeat the clannless ones from Beyond.” He turned his horse and led his group off to locate suitable stations for the laser rifles.

DeRudder looked after him thoughtfully and said, to no one in particular, “There goes the most dangerous man on all Caledonia.”

Don said mockingly, “Perhaps that is the way you think of it, Samuel of the DeRudders, but for us, there goes the hope for victory for the clanns.”

DeRudder looked at him. “There can be no victory for the clanns, Don Clark. Brave, your supreme raid cacique undoubtedly is, but it is the existence of such that will continue to lead to your decimation, since he will never give up, and others will continue to be led to their deaths because of him. I recall to mind a great… war cacique, you would call him, in the history of Mother Earth. He led a lost cause in a great civil war. So loved and respected was he, and such a genius in the military field, that he kept the war going for at least two years after his side had no chance of victory. His country was devastated as a result, and tens of thousands of brave men on both sides who could have lived, died. For decades, for a century and more after the conflict ended, his countrymen continued to honor his memory, never realizing that he had been a curse, not a blessing, to his people. His name was Lee.”

Don of the Clarks was scowling. He said. “We will see, man from Beyond. But brave clannsmen can never be defeated by clannless soldiers, slinks who are afraid to fight honorably with claidheammor, carbine and skean but must hide behind the defenses of large cities and kill at great distances and from ships from the air.”

DeRudder said dourly, “It is an often held fallacy, clannsman. Down through the ages, it has been repeated. However, I can think of few examples of tribesmen defeating civilized man with his weapons. You have never heard of them, but off-hand I can think of Fuzzy-Wuzzies and Aztecs, Zulus and Incas, Sioux and Iroquois, courageous men all, who also held to the delusion that brave barbarians can defeat lesser men, when it comes to courage, but armed with the weapons of technology.”

Don said, “I do not follow you, Samuel of the DeRudders. But come I will see that you are held in custody until the convening of the Dail.” He indicated the way.

“What do they want with me?” DeRudder growled.

Don grinned at him. “It is hardly for me to say, but for the assembly of the Dail itself.”

When all else had been attended to, John of the Hawks, his heart heavy, stopped off briefly at the tent that bore at its top his pennant as Sachem of the Hawks.

She whom he sought was carding wool in the women’s quarters when he entered. She smiled up at him gently.

“Alice,” he said. “Alice of the Thompsons.”

“John,” she said softly. “Perhaps at long last you are prepared to take your soma and enter with me into the Shrine of Kalkin.”

Agony came over his face. “Aüi, Alice. That is forever impossible. As impossible as our love, for there is no love for those who have taken this cursed drug of the men from Beyond.”

“All love is with those who walk with Lord Krishna, John,” she said with gentle reproof.

He took her by the hands and brought her to her feet and stared in misery into her eyes. “I know not why I keep you here. All others who have taken soma we have driven from the phylum, save only you. Perhaps I should let you go to New Sidon or one of the other cities. There, at least, you could attend the pagoda with the others who follow the new religion that is against the Holy. There, perhaps, you would at least be happy.”

She looked into his face and frowned slightly. “But I am happy here, John. We who have taken our soma are happy anywhere, for we walk with Lord Krishna. And here perhaps I can do the work of Kalkin, the final Avatara of Vishnu, by urging you and others to take the holy soma.”

He closed his eyes in pain and drew in a sighing breath. “Aüi, Alice,” he said meaninglessly.

He turned and left her. And she looked after him, deep, deep behind her eyes a hurt trying to come through.

John, as Sachem of the Clann Hawk, sat with his caciques in a body in the great circle that composed the assembly of the Dail of the Loch Confederation. Behind them stood the sagamores and renowned raiders, and behind them the multitude of full clannsmen. In his immediate vicinity were the other clan leaders of the Aberdeen Phylum, including Don, who, as Raid Cacique of the Clan Clark, held suffcient rank to participate in confederation decisions.

One of the elder bedels said the praise to the Holy and then retreated to the ranks of his fellows.

The aged Thomas, Sachem of the Polks, took his place at the amphitheater’s center and said, “If there is no word of protest, the first matter to come before the Dail will be that of the invaders from Beyond. Already the criers have informed us that a major chief of the Sidonians has been captured by the supreme raid cacique and can be sent with our ultimatum to this huge town New Sidon City. If there is no word of protest, I will ask that the man from Beyond, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRudders, be brought before us.”

I le held his silence for a moment, but no one spoke. Two clannsmen brought DeRudder from the cave in which he had been held, to the center of the amphitheater, and then withdrew to the ranks of their fellows.

Cornet Samuel DeRudder lacked dignity no more than he did courage. He stood erect and looked around at them, his eyes level.

He barked, “What do you want with me? I warn you now that this is one more crime to be punished. I would have thought you already had listed enough. In my kidnapping, your war chief and his group butchered a post consisting of ten men, not to speak of the entire complement of a Sidon Spacefleet skimmer.”

Thomas of the Polks looked at him evenly, “Do not speak of crime and punishment, man from Beyond. We hardly knew its meaning before your coming. Now we are beginning to learn. All over Caledonia, young people have been cozened into coming to your cities and mining centers. There they learn dishonorable ways, clannless ways that once they were taught were against the bann. There would seem to be no bann in your cities, save only these numberless laws you bring, each of which results in punishment if not observed, though some would seem impossible to observe.”

DeRudder said, “We bring the laws of civilized men!”

And Thomas of the Polks said, “We do not want them.”

“But you will get them, if you want them or not. Slowly, perhaps, but surely, the Caledonians are accepting the new. The younger people in particular are beginning to realize that the old ways were cruel and hard. Possibly half of your males were killed or crippled in your raids in the old days. It was a primitive society, hardly beyond the Neolithic, and it was fated to go.”

There was a stirring in the ranks of the assembled chiefs of the Loch Confederation, but none added to the voice of Thomas of the Polks, their senior.

He said now, “Our bedels have, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRudders, gone to the effort of reading some of your books, and although it has been difficult to understand many of your ways, still a certain amount has come through to us. It would seem that although you speak greatly of your laws and the ways of what you call civilization, your words have double meaning. In much the same manner that you arrived long years ago with your supposed holy men who wished to give all soma and make clannless ones of them, so now you attempt to cozen us with lofty praise of your laws. However, we find that you do not, yourselves, abide by them.”

“That is a lie!” DeRudder barked.

A sigh went through the assembly.

Thomas of the Polks said evenly, “You are not kyn of mine, and thus the bann does not apply; however, I do not lie. We have perused your books of laws of Sidon and of this League of Planets to which you belong. And thus we have found that illegally, by your own usage, you steal the products of our mines and also the products of our fields, of our seas.”

DeRudder said, That is a lie! Every action taken by the United Planetary Mining Company is condoned by Sidon law and the Canons of the League of Planets.” He snorted. “We have a panel of solicitors as long as your arm, making sure no League Canon is broken. We’re not dullies. Sooner or later a representative from the League will show up. We want everything to be aboveboard.”

“And how do you explain, Samuel, Comet of the DeRudders, the fact that before you arrived on Caledonia, all the lands, the mines and the seas belonged to the clannsmen. Now you claim ownership of wide areas, and they the richest.”

“We bought them! We legally took possession of areas not claimed by anyone and bought the rights of exploitation in other cases.

“But there were none who had the right to sell,” Thomas said reasonably. “The lands, the seas, the mines belong to all. A single man cannot sell such things.”

“They were no ordinary men. We signed our treaties with sachems, chiefs of tribes. If they haven’t the right to sell their own property, who has?”

“No one has,” the sachem said. “You do not bother to learn our institutions, man from Beyond. A sachem is elected by the clannsmen to perform definite duties, which are multiple. But he has no power to sign away the lands of his clann.”

DeRudder said, “All property belongs to someone, by our laws. If a head of a clann or the combined heads of phylum wish to sell the rights to mining properties, they can. So our jurors have ruled.”

“We do not completely understand these jurors of yours and how they can rule on matters here on Caledonia. But this we say. The phyla of the Loch Confederation reject your presence on Caledonia, as do, we understand, the Highland Confederation and that of the Ayr and, undoubtedly, many other confederations beyond these. We reject your claims to rights to mine our resources, to plant the fields for your own uses, to fish the seas. We reject all this and demand you return to your world of Sidon and leave us alone and to our own Holy and our dreams of the Land of Leal to come. That is the message we wish you to take to the Dail of your City of New Sidon and to your United Interplanetary Mining Company.”

DeRudder looked at him contemptuously. “You went to a lot of trouble to send a message that’ll be ignored, old man. United Mining isn’t about to leave Caledonia. And what are you going to do about it? You have no power capable of enforcing your desires. Half your towns have already been destroyed. And here you are, sulking in the hills, afraid to attempt to raid the cities any more. Afraid to come out like men, take your punishment and join up with the rest of this planet on its march to progress.”

“You will see whether the clannsmen of the Loch Confederation are slinks, man from Beyond, all in good time. And now, prepare to return to your New Sidon City.” Thomas of the Polks turned from him and addressed the assembly once more.

“If there is no protest, the second matter to come before the Dail will be submitted by Donald of the Warrens, Senior Bedel of the Loch Confederation.”

No one spoke, and an elderly, black clad religious came forth from the ranks of the bedels and Keepers of the Faith.

There was a defiant element in his aged voice. “I say the faults of John, Sachem of the Clan Hawk of the former town of Aberdeen and Supreme Raid Cacique of the Confederation.”

There was a hush that could be felt.

John of the Hawks stood, shocked. He looked about him in bewilderment.

The bedel went on doggedly, “Since being raised up to supreme raid cacique, John of the Hawks has broken the bann a score of times and more. He has forbidden his men to count honorable coup on the enemy, which is against the bann. He has used weapons that are against the bann. He has read books other than the Holy Books, books from Beyond that should be read, if at all, only by bedels and Keepers of the Faith. It is against the bann. He has spoken slightingly of the powers of the Holy and has cast doubt about the existence of the Land of Leal, for which we all yearn when life is through. It is against the bann.”

John of the Hawks was breathing deeply. When the other paused, he held up a hand. “Now hear me. You have listened to this clannless one from Beyond. He has explained to you that the Sidonians will never leave of their own will. If they are to go, we must expel them. Think you, Donald, Bedel of the Warrens, that we can expel them with claidheammors and carbines? We must learn from them. We were like children when it came to killing, when first they arrived. We must learn to use the laser rifles their handguns and pistols that fire a beam of light.”

“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.”