Hope of Earth (21 page)

S
AM TRUDGED THROUGH THE CUTTING
wind of the high pass. The mountain range was always a challenge, but he enjoyed it, because the exertion made him fit. His heavy load of good cloth merely added to it, making his muscles strain and his heart pound pleasantly.

Each community had its own rules, and strangers were not necessarily treated kindly. That made trading potentially dangerous. That was why it was Sam who took the cloth out and brought back the goods, instead of one or two of the women. Actually Jes had wanted to come with him, and she could carry her load and defend herself, but the family had decided that she was needed at home to help protect them from marauders during Sam’s absence. There was only so much Dirk could do, if several raiders attacked.

There were weapons available to the north, but a hostile tribe barred that direction. So Sam was following the trail to the southeast, open because hardly anyone cared to brave its rigors. He had been here once before, years ago, so knew the general route. But not well. He would have been better off in the company of a native of this region.

However, if this mission were successful, the women would have much less to fear from roving men. For Sam was in quest of the great new equalizer, the weapon that could make a woman as deadly as a man. The copper dagger. So sharp that even the slight muscle of a woman could make it lethal. So small it could be concealed on her body and forgotten until needed. With such knives, Flo and Jes and Lin and Wona would be safe.

Sam did not like to admit it, but this high region was becoming less familiar by the hour. He feared he had lost the way, and would not find the village he sought. But there was nothing to do but plow on.

He crested the pass and gained speed as he descended. There was a settlement of the folk who used the odd wide-mouthed clay pots. It was likely to be somewhere in this vicinity; all he had to do was find it. It was a long trek to reach it, but surely worthwhile this time.

Then he spied sheep. That meant there was a shepherd near. And if there was one person who knew an area well, it was that area’s shepherd. So Sam put his hands to his mouth and called: “HALLOOOO!”

This spooked a few sheep, but Sam remained still and in plain view. He wanted the shepherd to locate him, and to see that he meant no harm to the flock. So he raised his hands in a gesture of harmlessness which was more symbolic than real. Sam could take care of himself, and would fight if he had to. But he hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

Soon a man appeared. He was of average size, but had a competent bow. That would be the shepherd, and he could have put an arrow into Sam if he wanted to. And perhaps would have, had Sam not made a point of desiring peace. Because sometimes raiders stole sheep, and sheep were valuable.

“Who?” the man called, in the mountain dialect. Sam had picked it up during his prior travels; he couldn’t speak it well, but could understand it well enough.

“Sam, of the northeast,” he called back. “Coming in peace to trade cloth for copper. But I have lost my way, and need guidance to recover the trail.”

The shepherd came closer. His bow was slung across his back, but he could reach it rapidly. Actually Sam could reach his weapon rapidly too, but he kept his hands raised inoffensively. “You missed it by one peak. Go west and recover it.”

“I shall, with thanks,” Sam said, and turned to face west. But the mountain slope was plainly impassable in that direction. “Perhaps farther down.”

“Easier to pass through my village,” the shepherd said, smiling.

Sam returned the smile. “Does your village have copper for trade for cloth?” Sam indicated the heavy burden of cloth bound to his back.

“Yes.”

“Then it seems I am not lost after all. I will trade at your village. I thank you again.”

The shepherd pondered a moment, then made a significant offer. “I will return there tomorrow. You may travel with me, if you care to help herd sheep.”

“It is an honorable profession,” Sam said. “I am no expert at it, but I can profit well from instruction.” He was saying that he would accept directions from the shepherd without taking offense.

“Then come share my fire this night, and we shall be on our way tomorrow.”

“
Gladly,” Sam agreed. He had half hoped for something like this, but it was not a thing that could be asked for.

“Follow me.” The shepherd turned his back and walked slowly east. This was another significant gesture: no one turned his back on an enemy. But Sam knew that the man was well aware of Sam’s position and movement; shepherds were said to have eyes on their backs.

So Sam waited a moment, then stepped forward, matching the pace. In a moment the shepherd increased it, and they made good progress.

Only now did the shepherd’s dog appear, answering a signal from his master. Sam knew that the dog would have been on him the moment he made a hostile move toward the shepherd. The fact that he had neither seen the dog nor heard him before indicated how well the animal was trained.

It turned out that there was a small cave under a ledge of the mountain. No track led to it, and Sam would never have noticed it, had he passed by it alone. That was no accident, he realized; it was a hiding place as well as a shelter. The shepherd probably had a number of such refuges spread across his region, so that wherever the sheep went, he had a safe retreat.

The dog did not enter the cave. He ranged away, watching the sheep. The connections between man and dog were invisible to others, but Sam knew the animal obeyed his master implicitly.

Inside was a small cache of supplies, including some dried meat, tinder, and wood. The shepherd took his fire cup and soon blew up a small, almost smokeless fire.

“This is unexpected luxury,” Sam said, removing his burden and lying down. He unstrapped the sheath for his stone dagger and set the weapon on top of the bound cloth. He was thus disarming himself, signaling his lack of hostile intent. Such continuing cues were important.

In due course the shepherd handed him a section of the heated meat. Sam bit avidly into it. It was tough but good. And this was the most important signal of all: no man fought with the one he ate with.

Then they talked. “I am Otzi,” the shepherd said.

“I am Sam,” Sam repeated. But now the introduction was formal. Now they knew each other.

Periodically they went out to check on the sheep, but the dog had things under control. Sam knew that the animal would give notice the moment there was a problem. The sheep were pretty well settled for the night, near a mountain streamlet. Sam and Otzi drank there too, before returning to the cave.

As they settled for the night, they talked, for shepherding was a lonely trade, and so was traveling. Sam told of his tribe, and the manner his family group had formed when it had gotten isolated in a bad storm; times had been rough at first, when his sister had been raped and had to leave her baby in the forest because she could not support it.

But later she had married, and Sam had married, and they both had children they could support, and things were better now.

“Marriage,” Otzi said thoughtfully. “I had a good wife, but I lost her to the fever. Now my daughter runs our house in the village, for I am gone for months with the flock.”

“What will you do when she marries?” Sam asked sociably.

Otzi shook his head. “I fear Snow will not marry. She’s a good girl with a fine healthy body, smart and competent and good-natured, but her face is not pretty.”

Sam was sympathetic. “You have described my sister Jes. She’s as much of a woman as any man could want, except that she is tall, lanky, and homely of face, so no man wants her.” He shrugged. “Beauty isn’t everything.”

“That’s true. But it takes a man time to learn that. When I was young I sought beauty, but few wished to be alone while I was with the flock. Snow is like her mother, and once I knew her mother, I did love her.”

Sam pondered for some time before answering. He realized that he would probably never see Otzi again, after he left this region, so it was probably safe to divulge a confidence. “My wife is beautiful like none other. Yet if I had it to do over, I think I would seek a lesser woman.”

“You have a truly beautiful wife, and you crave less?”

“She is not as lovely in her nature as in her form,” Sam explained.

Otzi laughed, not unkindly. “I have seen it elsewhere. We men are fools about form and nature.”

“We men are fools,” Sam agreed ruefully. “Yet I can’t tell her no on anything.”

“That’s the way it is, with beauty,” Otzi agreed.

In the morning they herded the sheep down the mountain. There were a few ornery goats that gave the dog some trouble; Sam appreciated the magnitude of the job the shepherd had. But Otzi knew the terrain as well as only a shepherd could, and he knew the animals, and he maneuvered them efficiently in the right direction. Sam helped mainly by going to certain wrong paths Otzi directed him to, and waving his arms to dissuade the goats. When the goats went the right way, the sheep followed. Since there were three directions they could go—right, left, and forward—Sam wondered how Otzi and the dog ordinarily managed. He realized that probably the village sent up another man for this drive. Sam’s presence enabled Otzi to handle the matter without waiting for the arrival of help.

The herding was arduous, but they couldn’t stop, because there was no water for the sheep along the way. Otzi seemed indefatigable, and Sam held up, but he felt the strain. He had the muscle to accomplish heavy lifting or fighting, and the stamina to walk long distances, but this constant running from place to place, with his heavy load of cloths, was wearing.

By evening the outlying fields of the village appeared, to Sam’s relief. The villagers came out to meet the flock. “You’re early!” one cried.

“The sheep were ready, the weather was right, and I had help,” Otzi explained, gesturing toward Sam.

“Good enough! We’ll start the slaughter tomorrow.”

Otzi, relieved of his job, guided Sam to his house in the village.

The village itself was formidably situated. It covered a substantial knoll, with a ring of sharpened stakes set around the base. There were piles of rocks inside, that could be thrown, and a few boulders that could be rolled down the steep slope if an enemy breached the palisades. Right now, however, there were no guards; everyone was busy with the rigors of the harvest and preparations for the slaughter. No guards? Sam frowned, disliking this carelessness, but not wishing to criticize the host village. Probably there were lookouts alert to spot any hostile intrusion long before it reached the village.

A woman came out to greet Otzi with a hug. She was much younger, close to Sam’s own age, with strikingly light-colored long tresses, in contrast to the man’s much shorter dark brown hair. She wore a necklace of amber beads. That meant she was unmarried, probably his daughter Snow. She would cut her hair shorter when she married, giving its fairness to her husband along with the beads. She was well shaped, and would have been pretty except for a somewhat coarse face.

Then Otzi introduced her to Sam, confirming the obvious. Snow smiled, but there was no denying that she was far from pretty despite having a very nice body. She really was not like Jes; she was better in the torso and worse in the face. If only that lustrous hair could cover her face!