Shame of Man (23 page)

At last they retired to their section of the tent, where the children had gone to sleep long before. Serilda did not follow, to Hugh's relief. Now he was free to be free with Anne, and they made love and sank into slumber.

On the second work day they loaded and moved the second stone. But two men who had overworked themselves the first day turned lame and had to desist. Now Joe did what he hadn't wanted to do, and put Hugh on a rope. Hugh had his own rope with him, as he had the day before, in case of need; the need had come. He was privately glad of it; he wanted to do his physical share. A promising stripling was put on the drum.

They loaded the stone on the sledge, and hauled it down to the circle. All was going well. But when they made the supreme heave, starting the stone on its way to the vertical position, it didn't budge. This stone was heavier than the other one, and the men were tired after their prior day's work and night of carousal. So Joe joined Hugh on his rope. “Heave!” he cried as the drum beat, and both gave their utmost heaves.

And the rope snapped. Both of them took hard falls, amazed and disgruntled. The lifting came to a halt.

“I knew you shouldn't have put that weird hand on the sacred work,” Bub said. “The spirits are turning against us.”

There was a murmur. This was indeed holy work, for all of its festive aspects. The spirits had to support it. If they were annoyed, all would be lost.

“Hugh isn't bad for the spirits,” Joe said. “It's just an accident. They happen.”

“You say that because you're his friend,” Bub said. The murmur supported him; the men were afraid that he was right. “He should be banished, so the stones will be sacred.”

Bil came forward. He looked at the severed ends of the rope. “This rope didn't break naturally,” he announced. “It was cut.”

“How could it be cut?” Bub demanded. “He was using it right along.”

“Inside, where it didn't show,” Bil said. “I have worked with ropes; I know the difference between fraying and cutting. The inner strands were cut; the outer ones broke. Someone did this.”

“You're his friend too,” Bub said. “Your word is no good on this either.” And the muttering was growing, supporting him.

At last it was coming clear: here was the mischief Bub had devised. Weakening Hugh's rope so that it would snap under stress, setting back the work, maybe injuring someone, and discrediting him. Because he was left-handed, and therefore under chronic suspicion. Bub had found a way to get back at him for what Anne had done. And if he managed to get Hugh banished, then Anne would have little effective defense against Bub.

But how had Bub managed to weaken the rope? It had been with Hugh all day, and in his home section at night.

Then he remembered what Mina had said. “Call for my girl-child,” he told Joe. “Question her.”

“That's a spirit child,” Bil said.

Joe looked at him, surprised, nodding. Then he shrugged. “I must investigate this,” he said. “I must know exactly what happened. Bring me Hugh's children.”

The surrounding muttering became a murmur of surprise. What did children have to do with this? But the others did not object, because Joe was their leader and he had almost been hurt by the breaking rope, and he was investigating.

Anne came, bringing Chip and Mina. Joe addressed them both. “What do you two know of cut ropes?” he asked gruffly.

Chip gazed blankly back at him, but Mina jumped right on it. “Someone came! Night before last. By Daddy's rope. I marked his foot.”

“Who came?” Joe asked.

“It was all dark. I couldn't see. But he was there for a long time. I put my dye on his shoe.”

“There by Hugh's rope,” Bil said thoughtfully, loudly enough to be heard. “Two nights ago. And he did not use that rope yesterday, so it didn't break then.”

“What color dye?” Joe asked the girl.

Mina held up her little dye bag.

“That's a clue,” Bil said. “But in two days that die could have been washed out. Still, if the man didn't know it was there—”

“Line up!” Joe roared. “All men! Striplings too. Show your feet.”

Confused, the men obeyed. Almost all of them were sweaty and dirty, and their boots were soiled with dust and grease, but the bright dye should show on them.

Joe walked along the front of the row, and Bil along the back, peering intently at boots. And came up with nothing. None had the dye on them. “They can't have changed them,” Joe said. “These are the only ones they have here.”

Changed them. Hugh remembered how the maidens had brought changes of clothing, so as to do their dance. Today they were back in their working clothes. “The girls,” he said. “Check them too.”

Bil nodded. “It could have been a woman.”

“Maidens!” Joe shouted. “Line up next!”

The maidens formed a line. Their boots lacked dye too. But two of the dancers were missing. “Where—?” Joe started.

There was a commotion. Then two women fell to the ground, scuffling. Anne had tackled Serilda. And there as they fought was the guilty boot: on
Serilda's foot. She evidently had not noticed the dye until now, or had not realized its significance. She had tried to sneak away, to get time to scrub it off, but Anne had stopped her.

In a moment the men broke up the fight and held Serilda captive. “You cut the rope!” Joe accused her. “To avenge your brother.”

Serilda hesitated, and decided on a course. “I did it for myself,” she said. “To get Hugh exiled. So I could have him.”

She was protecting her brother, so that he would not get banished too. There was nothing they could do about that.

“Then you are banished,” Joe said. “Leave this clan, and do not return, lest you be killed.”

Serilda nodded. “I will fetch my things.”

The men let her go, and she went to her section of the tent. Bub stood mute, giving no sign. But it was clear that his plot had turned against him, costing him what he most valued: his sister. And his vengeance against Hugh, who had been vindicated.

After that they returned to work erecting the stone, and by dusk the job had been completed. Tomorrow they would return to their home villages. It had been a good Festival of Stones.

We don't know the details of the culture of the Megalithic builders, but it could have been like this. We do know something about the manner they handled their huge stones. No modern machinery, no aliens from space are required; they did it with their technology of the time. The Orkney isles were at the fringe of this culture, not as advanced as those settlements nearer its center, but their designs were similar. The site described was constructed at Stennes, with twelve stones in a circle, probably relating to solar observations. Later another was made nearby, the Ring of Brodgar, with sixty stones, probably a lunar observatory. There has been much debate on exactly what observations might have been done at such sites, and at their more sophisticated and famous cousin at Stonehenge in England, but there seems to be persuasive indication that rather precise observations were made over the course of many centuries. The natural cycles were very important to the ancient cultures.

For perhaps three thousand years the Megalithic cultures endured, before being displaced by cultures with bronze and more productive agricultural techniques. Thus, in a literal sense, the stone age gave way to the ages of metals. But they left behind monuments like none seen since.

CHAPTER 11

PHILISTINE

The second millennium
B.C
.
—
that is, roughly 2000-1000
B.C
.
—
was as busy and violent in the Levant
—
that is, the east Mediterranean coastline between Anatolia (modern Turkey) and Egypt where there are now the countries of Syria, Lebanon, and Israel
—
as the second millennium
A.D
.,
A.D.
1000-2000. More succinctly: things are always popping in the Holy Land.

Homer's
Iliad
describes a bold foray by the collected Greek city-states against the key city of Troy in Anatolia around 1200
B.C
. Forget the surrounding mythology, which is formidable, involving the Golden Apple, the abduction of Helen, and the ten-year effort to rescue her. The real motive for the war was
political and economic: the city of Troy controlled an important trade route that the Greeks coveted.

But this too may not be the real story. The
Odyssey
describes the adventures of the Greek hero Odysseus on his way home after that war, when he encountered things like the forgetful lotus eaters, a one-eyed man-eating giant, and the luscious but dangerous sorceress Circe. This, too, may be a euphemism for a more practical reality. The Illyrians, who lived in the Balkans (present-day Yugoslavia
—
another chronic hot spot), advanced south into the Peloponnesian peninsula, displacing the Dorians of northern Greece, and the Dorians moved south to displace other Greeks, many of whom had to take to their ships to escape. These became the Sea Peoples, who ravaged Anatolia, Crete, Egypt, and the Levant. In fact it may be that the adventures of the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey
were merely the Greeks’ version of what to all the other inhabitants of the eastern Mediterranean were destructive raids by barbarians on ships. The Hittite Empire of Anatolia was destroyed. The Egyptians managed to repulse a band of Sea Peoples, who then settled in the Levant, and thereafter that region was named after them: Palestine, from the Peleset, now called the Philistia. The Philistines do appear to have been Mycenaean Greeks; their shields and armor matched, as did their pottery, and a number of their names echo those of the heroes of the
Iliad.
So now perhaps we know where Odysseus went: to the Levant, where his people made a new nation, much to the frustration of neighbors like Egypt and Israel.

Two hundred years later, about 1000
B.C
., the Philistines were in firm control of the region, having thrown off any obligations to the Egyptians and subjugated the Canaanites who were the local natives. More was to happen in this region
—
much more
—
but for the moment let's consider the situation from the perspective of the Philistines.

H
UUO kissed Annai farewell at the dock, and hugged his eight-year-old son and six-year-old daughter. He hated to separate from them, but this was a special tour where children were not welcome. Of course their loyal Cannanite servant and friend Crystalech could have cared for them this month; her daughter Desert Flower was Minah's age, and the children got along well. But it seemed best simply to let Huuo travel alone, while Annai and the children maintained the household. This occasion came only once a year, and that could be handled.

“Be careful, Daddy,” Minah said as she let him go. Her eyes were great and dark, as if formed from the same midnight substance as her hair. She was not their natural child, having been adopted as a temple foundling, and the aura of the goddess seemed to cling to her. It was already understood that she would be a priestess when she came of age. Not one of the ordinary ones who gave sexual solace to male worshippers, but a ranking temple official with direct communion with the god. She was as different from her brother as night from day, but the family tacitly concealed this, lest some
god decide that she was suitable grist for sacrifice. That was one reason they tried to keep the children home: so as not to attract undue attention.

“I will,” he promised her. “You protect your mother from evil spirits while I'm gone.” He smiled as he said it, but it really was not a joke.

“I will,” she agreed seriously.

Then he turned and walked the gangplank to board the ship with its bird-headed prow and stern. He turned again as he stepped onto the deck, and waved to them. Some men clearly enjoyed this annual respite from their families, but Huuo did not; had it been feasible, he would have had them all come with him, including the servant and her child. But the expense would have been prohibitive. Huuo himself paid nothing, instead being well paid for his expertise, but the others would have counted as baggage.

Annai blew him a kiss as the ship put down its oars and stroked smartly from the pier. She was ethereally beautiful in the morning sunlight, her dark hair blown out by the breeze, her light dress alternately flattening against her shapely dancer's torso and tugging away from it. For a crazy instant he wanted to dive into the water and swim back to her. But the family needed the excellent pay he would receive for this tour. Certainly her love would keep; she was as constant as any woman could be, though she could have done extremely well as a woman of the temple. She simply preferred to allow no man but her husband to touch her, and Huuo was hardly inclined to debate that.

He made his way past the oarsmen and down into the hold, where the cargo was stacked under waterproof cover. The ship rowed out to sea, and there picked up a fair north wind. The oars were shipped; the galley slaves could catch up on their relaxation while the wind held. Huuo knew that they loved their games of dice and markers, and that the ship whore would get brisk business. Foreigners professed to be in doubt about the distinction between a whore and a temple priestess, but that merely showed how ignorant those of other cultures were. The priestess brought worshippers closer to the spirit of the goddess, while the whore merely sated animalistic passions. There was also a considerable difference in price, for those who chose to think of it that way. Actually there was no price for a priestess; there was a significant donation for the welfare of the temple. One might as well compare a field laborer to a noble: both did their jobs, but could never be confused with each other.

Huuo retired to his cabin, which was hardly more than a cramped cubby in the hold, and settled down for the ride. The ship was bound from Jaffa to Gaza, this leg of its larger route; he had boarded it at his home city of Mor. There would be other stops along the way. It might have been faster to ride overland, but the ship was both safer and more comfortable. Though the Canaanites of this region had become properly subservient, their wilder neighbors of the mountains, the hill folk who called themselves the Israelites, had never acceded properly to either authority or civilization.
Periodically they had to be put down, when they became too much of a nuisance. The independent cities of Philistia would contribute to a levee for mutual advantage, and a joint expedition would be mounted. Then things would return to normal for a few years, until the savages forgot the lesson and became obnoxious again. Sometimes one of their prophets would rouse them to violence in the name of their cult god, pretending that it was the
only
god extant; sometimes it was just their natural depravity. It had been a while since the last punitive expedition, so the primitives might be stirring; Huuo didn't care to risk riding alone through what the hill folk pretended was their territory.

This festival tour was to celebrate the gods of Philistia, who had been reasonably kind. Other musicians would gather from other cities, each contributing its best; they would tour the principal cities, performing together for each seren, or city lord, renewing the glorious history of Philistia. The serens in turn would wine, dine, and offer blandishments to the musicians, and the people of each city would throng in celebration. Were it not for his separation from his family, Huuo would have enjoyed the prospect greatly.

He found himself unable to rest adequately, so he brought out his double flute and played, practicing for the big event. He hardly needed practice, but the music always soothed him, and he realized that his tension was because of the recent separation from his family. He closed his eyes and imagined Annai dancing as he played the melody and descant. In his fancy she languorously stripped away her scant items of apparel, until she pranced naked, as she liked to do when feeling free. That gave him comfort.

“Sir.”

Huuo paused, opening his eyes. A Canaanite sailor stood before him, apologetically. “Yes?”

“Sir, the oarsmen—they overheard your playing. They bid me inquire—if it be not too great an imposition—if you would honor them by playing for them on the oar deck as they row?”

Huuo realized that the wind had died, so the oars were resuming. Music could facilitate such labor. Flattered, he agreed. He got up and followed the sailor to the head of the cramped deck where the twin rows of oarsmen sat. The drummer was just establishing the cadence, so Huuo settled beside him and adapted his melodies to that powerful beat.

The oarsmen grinned, and put forth extra effort, making the ship fairly leap ahead. It was a good event for all parties, because Huuo appreciated an appreciative audience of any kind, and the oarsmen liked the diversion, and the ship's captain was glad of the extra speed.

The ship put into port at midday at Ashkelon. There it unloaded ingots of copper and silver, and took on a quantity of fine textiles and assorted jewelry. Huuo was sure that the local merchant-thieves were cheating the pirate-captain, who was also cheating them, and that each was privately well
satisfied with his bargain, because it was the final buyers who wound up paying the most for the least. This was the name of trade. The cities of the seacoast flourished from it.

In an hour they were back at sea. A contrary wind appeared; the ship's priest burned incense, but the wind merely strengthened. Huuo shook his head; if he had brought his daughter Minah along, she would have spoken to the wind, and it would have changed. But then the captain would have schemed to acquire her, by devious means, and the situation would have become treacherous. Better a slow trip than that!

Now the captain approached him. He was a Philistine of middle age, grizzled, stout, but clearly possessing the competence of experience. “Captain Ittai here. My lord musician, do you play for the spirits?” he inquired brusquely.

Huuo smiled. He was wellborn but no lord, and the captain knew that. But Ittai was asking a favor. “I can play, but they do not necessarily listen,” he demurred.

The captain lowered his voice. “I note you are bent to the left.”

This could be trouble. Huuo had done his best to conceal his left-handedness, because superstitious seamen could have violent notions about the curse of such a person on a ship. He played more instruments than the double flute, but he carried that one now because it betrayed no handed-ness unless one were sharp enough to observe that he played the dominant melody on the left. But the captain was evidently an observant cuss, and had read the little signals that could never be entirely concealed: which hand lifted higher when he was startled, which way he preferentially turned, even the momentary angling of his head. Concealing all of these little traits was an effort that could give him a headache from the continuing tension. So, unconsciously, believing that no one was paying attention, he had given himself away.

“You choose to make an issue?” Huuo asked in a carefully neutral tone.

“By no means,” the man said quickly, though of course his very mention of the matter had made the issue. “But there are those aboard who might react in an ignorant manner if the wind were unusually adverse. It seems best to me to negate the whole issue by seeing that the wind is not adverse.”

Nicely put. “I will make an attempt to persuade the wind,” Huuo agreed, getting up and bringing out his flute. “But understand this: the spirits, too, have been known to take note of particular things. Were my effort to annoy them on that score—”

Ittai laughed. “On a day like this? I have been at sea twenty years, and never seen a storm blow up swiftly in such weather. The adverse risk is minimal.” He paused, then added: “Besides, the local waters are kind to the left.”

That was a curious statement. But they were arriving at the incense site, and further dialogue would be awkward.

He stood on the deck and played the melody of the hymn to the north wind, which was the one they wanted. The south wind intensified. But he knew that these things were whimsical, and sometimes an increase preceded a reversal. He had no doubt that the spirits could change the winds, but suspected that they seldom bothered. Why should they do mortal men any favors? Minah could evoke their attention and cooperation, but she was Philistia's most winsome child. Huuo was simply a wrong-handed man.