The Tattooed Tribes (10 page)

He grinned as
Lucien stopped dead, a slice of grilled mushroom suspended in
mid-air, and stared at him.

“
It was a beautiful ceremony,” Jon said.
“She still had breakfast down her bridal gown and managed to wipe
her nose on my arm before we were divorced.”

He laughed at
the expression on Lucien’s face.

“
We were ‘married’ for about ten minutes.
Long enough for me to become a member of her tribe, and for her to
add two pearls to her fortune.”

“
That’s why you’ve only got nine left!”
Lucien realised. “You used them as bride money!”

“
Exactly,” Jon replied. “The rest only cost
me a pearl each, but she was already a much married little girl of
high status, which is why she cost me so much.”

Lucien did
some quick thinking. He looked at the tattoos on Jon’s hands,
remembered the single wolf on the hand of the tribesman he had seen
and began to wonder.

Jon followed
his gaze.

“
Correct,” he said, guessing what was on
Lucien’s mind. “This hand represents a man’s tribe. I’m a member of
four, by marriage and by adoption. Most men only belong to one, but
it’s not uncommon for them to be honorary members of others. And
sometimes it’s good for a man to leave his own and join another- it
spreads the genes around.”

“
Will a tribe adopt me?”

“
Maybe.”

“
What would I have to do?”

“
Learning to be a good apprentice would
help,” Jon told him. “I’ll wrap the rest of this fish in leaves and
it will do for breakfast. You can do the dishes in the
morning.”

“
Why me?” Lucien protested.

“
You’re the apprentice,” Jon reminded
him.

Chapter
8

The next day
Lucien followed Jon on through a pristine world where a sparkling
clean river flowed through virgin forest.

Amongst the
trees Lucien sometimes caught the shadows of deer, and hares broke
cover under his feet. Above him raptors circled high on the rising
thermals.

There were
squirrels and birds in the trees and ducks rose in great flocks
from the river as they passed. Once Jon stopped him and pointed to
the far bank where an otter had just slipped into the water, but it
was gone before he could get a good look.

That night
they ate a different fish fresh from the river, this time baked and
stuffed with leaves that tasted of lemons and onions and something
else Lucien could not place. Their damper bread was mixed with
berries Jon found on a low bush during the afternoon. They burst in
Lucien’s mouth, a sweet fragrant explosion of sugar.

“
Why do the women own everything?” he asked
when he could not eat more. It had been intriguing him all
day.

“
Custom born of necessity,” Jon replied.
“This was a new Settlement when it was abandoned. Less than thirty
years old. When it became clear they were on their own, it didn’t
take long for it to fall into anarchy. There was vicious fighting
over scarce resources and the one in shortest supply was
women.”

Lucien looked
surprised.

“
New colonies tend to have a predominance
of men,” Jon told him. “Anyway, they were a tough bunch of girls
and had no intention of becoming gaming chips in the power games of
men, and they certainly weren’t going to be exploited, so some of
them got together and took off into the forest.”

He threw
another piece of wood on the fire and the sparks rose up into the
night like a hundred tiny stars.

“
The fighting soon degenerated into
barbarism,” Jon said. “And the lack of food pushed some into
unspeakable acts, but others followed the women into the forest.
They had begun to learn to survive out there and were prepared to
teach the newcomers in exchange for respect and
children.”

He stretched
out his hands to show Lucien the tattoos.

“
The women decide when you get these,” he
said. “Best not piss them off or you’ll be bare handed all your
life and a bare handed man has no standing.”

“
If I don’t annoy them will they let me be
tattooed?” Lucien asked eagerly.

“
If you’re admitted to a tribe,” Jon
replied. “It will depend very much on you and the
tribe.”

“
Are some different to others?”

“
They can be,” Jon answered. “The river
ones tend to be similar, but away to the north and out on the flat
lands to the east they’re different. And we’ve no idea what those
to the south have become. We’re not even sure if people penetrated
the jungle and beyond.”

“
How far have you been?” Lucien
asked.

“
A long way,” Jon said with a smile. “But
never far enough.”

In the week
following Lucien absorbed more and more about surviving in the
wilderness. He began to recognise which plants were good to eat and
which were not. He still had much to learn and they had to stop for
a whole day while the effects of one sort of berry made its painful
passage through his guts and out the other end.

“
You won’t eat them again,” was all Jon
said.

Every day was
a new source of interest to Lucien, when he was not spending it
crouched over a hole. He locked away the names of birds and animals
and plants, trying to remember everything Jon told him about their
habits and their breeding seasons.

“
Never take a bird when it could be on the
nest,” he was told. “Protect the next generation and they’ll
provide you with eating next year and every one after.”

He learnt
roots, leaves and fruit were as important to find as meat, probably
more so.

“
You need the vitamins,” Jon warned him.
“You can get some nasty things if you don’t eat enough of them.
Even if they don’t taste so good!”

He introduced
Lucien to a plant so bitter he thought his mouth would turn inside
out.

“
Bloody hell, Jon!” he
protested.

“
I know,” Jon replied. “It’s vile, but
sometimes it’s the only source of vitamin C later in the year and
if you don’t eat it your teeth could fall out.”

Lucien spat.
“I think I’d rather be toothless.”

It was one of
the few really unpleasant things Jon had him taste, most of it was
either fairly bland or quite nice, and some was delicious. He also
began to learn certain things needed special cooking or preparation
if they were not to make him very ill at best or kill him at
worst.

When he
wondered why they bothered, Jon explained these things were
sometimes all there was and he needed to know how to use them to
survive.

There was so
much to learn and it was fascinating, and Lucien, once the despair
of a long list of teachers, absorbed knowledge like a sponge.

Jon watched
him as he eagerly asked question after question and felt easier in
his mind.

At first the
total lack of people bothered Lucien. Although he had been brought
up in a sparsely populated world, until now he had lived in a town
where, if everyone did not actually know everyone else, there was a
good chance they knew someone in common. It had been possible for
him to walk down streets where he could guarantee no-one would
greet him, but only if he was careful where he went.

He had never
before been so alone and for a while he found he clung to Jon’s
presence and was not comfortable if he was out of sight. However,
he adjusted, and found he relished the silences and the ever
present feeling of the land, experiencing it as a living breathing
being unfettered by the hand of man.

It therefore
came as a complete shock one hot afternoon, when they had been
walking in the shade of the trees, to break out into a clearing and
see a man skinning a wolf.

Lucien was
frozen to the spot, he had no idea what to do or what was expected
of him.

Jon took the
decision out of his hands.

“
Stay here!” he ordered and advanced on the
man, hand going to his knife.

The man had
jerked his head up in surprise at the sound and as the bloody
skinning knife slipped from his fingers, Jon rushed him.

Lucien watched
in horror as the poacher flung himself backwards reaching for a
rifle. Without thinking, he pulled his own from over his shoulder,
levered a bullet up from the magazine into the chamber and levelled
it.

Jon reached
his quarry before the man’s hand could reach his weapon and they
went down in a fighting tumble. Lucien had trouble following, but
he kept the gun on them. It crossed his mind if Jon was killed he
would have to face this enemy and kill him; then he would be all
alone in the wildness.

The end of the
barrel trembled as his hands shook.

Jon swung a
fist and even from where he was, Lucien heard the crack and Jon
swear in pain. His opponent fell back for a second and Jon was on
his feet, backing away from him, knife in hand.

For a moment
Lucien thought it was all over, but the poacher had an ace up his
sleeve in the shape of a second knife in his boot. He was on his
feet again and advancing on Jon, looking for an opening.

Sighting,
Lucien thought he had a clean shot. His finger found the trigger,
he fixed an aiming point on the man’s chest, although he could not
stop the end of the barrel wavering like a leaf in the wind, and he
squeezed.

At least a
part of his brain told him to squeeze, screamed at him to squeeze,
but another part told him if he did he would have killed a man.

The decision
was taken from him as Jon threw his own second knife and it buried
itself hilt deep in the man’s throat.

Elated,
desperately thankful he had not pulled the trigger, Lucien was
about to shout a crow of relieved triumph when Jon descended on
him.

He slapped the
rifle to one side and shook him until his teeth rattled.

“
What the fuck did you think you were
doing?” he demanded.

“
I … you ... he,” Lucien stuttered,
shattered by the rage on Jon’s face.

“
What the hell would you have done if you’d
killed me?” Jon demanded.

“
I’m a good shot,” Lucien protested. “I
could have taken him.”

“
Could you? Could you really have shot him
in cold blood?”

“
Yes!” Lucien replied and knew as he said
it; he could have done no such thing.

And even if he
had found the resolve to fire, what if he had missed and by some
terrible misfortune got Jon? He would have been at the complete
mercy of the man lying on the grass.

He turned his
head away and vomited on the ground.

Jon waited
until he stopped and then he said, “Don’t ever aim a gun at anyone
unless you’re prepared to kill them and you know they have to
die.”

“
I couldn’t,” Lucien whispered, “I wanted
to, but I couldn’t do it.”

Some of the
hard angry lines on Jon’s face softened.

“
Good,” he said. “One day you may have to,
but I hope it won’t be for a long, long time, if ever. Go down to
the river, wash your face and don’t come back until I call
you.”

Much later,
sitting by the camp fire and drinking tea Jon had made him, Lucien
felt the horrors of the day slowly draining away. He suspected
there was something in the tea making him able to relax and he was
grateful for it.

“
Have you ever killed anyone before,” he
asked.

“
Yes,” Jon replied. “But never anyone who
wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“
What did you do with the wolf?” For some
reason this was important.

“
I buried her with the bastard who killed
her,” Jon replied. “She deserved better, but he deserved
less.”

Lucien nodded
and away in the darkness a pack howled for their lost one to return
to them

Hard walking
and fresh air did much to take Lucien’s mind off things. Every day
was filled with new sights and new experiences. He had never before
realised how many different birds there were in the world or how
many small biting insects. And he never suspected what beauty could
be found in small flowering things that hide their shy loveliness
amongst grasses and trees.

The exercise
burned away any remaining fat living rough had left and he was
lean, fit and full of restless energy. The thought of female
company filled a great deal of his resting time and he confided
some of his difficulties to Jon, who just laughed and recommended a
cold swim.

Early one
morning he was in the middle of an enjoyable and highly erotic
dream, when an unexpected and repetitive pain jerked him from the
arms of a delightfully large breasted girl who was eager to join
him in the river for a ‘swim’.

He sat up with
a jolt as a boy about his own age drew back his foot to kick him
again.

Shocked and
outraged, his hand went for his knife, but the boy just smirked
down at him and dodged away.

“
He’s awake,” he yelled to others gathered
on the shore line.

Lucien shot to
his feet, and saw Jon exchanging an embrace with one of the
strangers.

There were
three of them, two young men and another one nearer Jon’s age,
probably a little older. Lucien thought he had once seen a
tribesman on the street near his home, but it had been dusk, so he
had never been really sure if he had or not.

Apart from
this dubious glimpse, the only others he had seen were the
shambling wrecks of drug addiction at The First cataract- now he
saw the real thing.