The Horse Barbarians

23

“No more right now,” Jason said, waving away the glass and straw that Meta held out to him. He sat up on his bunk aboard the Pugnacious, washed, medicated, his wounds dressed, and with a glucose drip plugged into his arm. Kerk sat across from him, a bulge on one side where he had been bandaged. Teca had taken out a bit of punctured intestine and tied up a few blood vessels. Kerk preferred to ignore it completely.

“Tell us,” he said. “I’ve plugged this microphone into the annunciator system, and everyone is waiting to hear. To be frank, we still don’t know what happened, other than the fact that both you and Temuchin think that each lost by winning. It is very strange.”

Meta leaned over and touched Jason’s forehead with a folded cloth. He smiled and put his fingers against her wrist before he spoke.

“It was history. I went to the library to find out the answer, later than I should have, but not too late, after all. The library read a lot of books

to me and very quickly convinced me that a culture cannot be changed from the outside. It can be suppressed or destroyed, but it cannot be changed. And that’s just what we were trying to do. Have you ever heard of the Goths and the Hunnish tribes of Old Earth?”

They shook their heads no and this time he accepted the drink to dampen his throat.

“These were a bunch of backwoods barbarians who lived in the forest, enjoyed drinking, killing and their own brand of independence, and fought the Roman legions every time they came along. The tribes were always beaten, and do you think they learned a lesson from it? Of course not. They just gathered up the survivors and went deeper in the woods to fight another day, their culture and their hatred intact. Their culture was changed only when they won. Eventually they moved in on the Romans, captured Rome and learned all the joys of civilized life. They weren’t barbarians any more. The ancient Chinese used to work the same trick for centuries. They weren’t very good fighters, but they were great absorbers. They were overrun and licked time and time again, and sucked the victors down into their own culture and life.

“I learned this lesson and just arranged things so that it would happen here as well. Temuchin was an ambitious man and could not resist the temptation of new worlds to conquer. So he invaded the lowlands when I showed him the way.”

“And by winning, he lost,” Kerk said.

“Exactly. The world is his now. He has captured the cities and he wants their wealth. So he has to occupy them to obtain it. His best officers become administrators of the new realm and wallow in unaccustomed luxury. They like it here. They might even stay. They are still nomads at heart, but what about the next generation? If Temuchin and his chiefs are living in cities and enjoying the sybaritic pleasures thereof, how can he expect to enforce the nocities law back on the plateau? It begins to look sort of foolish after a while. Any decent barbarian isn’t going to stay up there in the cold when he can come down here and share the loot. Wine is stronger than achadh and they even have some distilleries here. The nomad way of life is doomed. Ternuchin realized that, though he could not put it into words. He just knew that, by winning, he had left behind and destroyed the way of life that had enabled him to win in the first place. That’s why he called me a demon and strung me up.”

“Poor Temuchin,” Meta said, with sudden insight. “His ambition doomed him and he finally realized it. Though he was the conqueror, he was the one who lost the most.”

“His way of life and his life itself,” Jason said. “He was a great man.”

Kerk grunted. “Don’t tell me that you’re sorry I killed him?”

“Not at all. He attained everything he ever wanted; then he died. Not many men can say that.”

“Turn off the annunciator,” Mete said. “And you may go, Kerk.” The big Pynran opened his mouth to protest, then smiled instead, and turned and went out.

“What are you going to do now?” Meta asked as soon as the door was closed.

“Sleep for a month, eat steaks and grow strong.”

“I do not mean that. I mean where will you go? Will you stay here with us?”

She was working hard to express her emotions, using a vocabulary that was not suited for this form of communication. He did not make it any easier for her.

“Does that matter to you?”

“It matters, in a way that is very new.” Hen forehead creased and she almost stammered with the effort to put her feelings into words. ‘When I am with you, I want to tell you different things. Do you know what is the nicest thing that we can say in Pynran?” He shook his head. ‘We say, ‘You fight very well.’ That is not what I want to say to you.”

Jason spoke nine languages and he knew exactly what it was he wanted to say, but he would not. Or could not. He turned away instead.

“No, look at me,” Meta said, taking his head in both hands and gently turning his face toward hers. Her actions said more than any words could and he was ashamed of his inability to speak. Yet he still remained silent.

“I have looked up the word ‘love,’ just as you told me to do. At first it was not clear because it was only words. But when I thought about you, the meaning became clear at once.”

Their faces were close, her wide clear eyes looking unflinchingly into his.

“I love you,” she said. “I think that I will always love you. You must never leave me.”

The direct simplicity of her emotions rose like a flooded river against the shored-up dikes of his conditioned defenses, the mechanisms that he had built up through the years. He was a loner. No one was on his side. I’m all right, Jack. Take a woman, leave a woman. The universe helps those who help themselves. I can take care of myself and… I. don’t… need… anyone…

“Dear stars above, how I do love you, too,” he said, pulling her to him, his face pressing into hen neck and hair.

“You will never leave me again,” she said.

“And you will never leave me again. There, the shortest and best marriage ceremony on record. May you break my arm if I ever look at another girl.”

“Please. Do not talk about violence now.”

“I apologize. That was the old unreconstructed me talking. I think that we must both bring gentleness into our lives. That is what you, I and our pack of growling Pyrrans need the most. That’s what we all need. Not humility, no one needs that. Just a little civilizing. I think that we can survive with it now. The mines should be opening here soon, and the way the tribes are moving to the lowlands, it looks like you Pyrrans will have the plateau to yourselves.”

“Yes, that will be good. It can be our new world.” She hesitated a moment as she weighed his words. ‘We Pyrnans will stay here, but what about you? I would not like to leave my people again, but I will go if you go.”

“You won’t have to. I’m staying right here. I’m a member of the tribe remember? Pyrnans are rude, opinionated and irascible, we know that. But I am, too. So perhaps I’ve found a home at last.”

“With me, always with me.”

“Of course.”

After this there was no more that could be said.