Time Slave

21

“I will cut meat first,” said Knife.

He stared across the roast carcass of deer, hot and glistening. The group fell silent. Even William and Gunther, who knew little of the language of the men, sensed the sudden stillness. Hamilton, kneeling behind Gunther, held her breath.

It had come.

Spear did not seem surprised. He had expected this for more than a year.

“I will cut meat first,” said Spear. Hamilton watched them, crouching across from one another, over the meat.

Stone puzzled as to why Spear, in the last years, had not killed Knife. There were none in the group who did not know that Knife wished to be first. Tree thought he knew why Spear had not done this thing. Had Tree been Spear, he, too, would not have wanted to do this thing. The two men, Knife and Spear, stared at one another over the carcass of the deer. Short Leg, behind Spear, wondered why Spear did not strike. The two men, in many ways, seemed not unlike. There was a heaviness about the jaw of each, like rock, the same narrow eyes. Yet there seemed in Spear a heaviness, a weightiness, that was not in the younger man, Knife. Spear’s eyes, too, were quicker. Tree knew that he himself would not have wished to fight Spear. He knew that Spear, the leader, would have had little compunction in killing him. But with Knife, it was different. Knife had walked before Spear once in the last month, entering the camp first; he had said once, in the men’s hut, that Spear was old, that he could not hunt as well as Knife; then, ten days ago, he had taken meat from one of Spear’s women and given it to Flower. But Spear had not killed him for these things. Tree had little doubt that Spear would have killed any other in the group who had done these things. But he did not kill Knife. He did not seem to notice.

“No,” said Knife.

Seeming to pay Knife no attention, Spear thrust the flint blade into the cooked meat.

With a cry Knife, his own flint blade in his fist, leaped across the meat.

With one arm Spear struck him to the side and stood up. The women screamed. William and Gunther leaped to their feet. The men remained sitting, watching. Knife rolled twice and seized up his flint ax. Spear, standing by the fire, over the meat, did not move. His eyes, strange for Spear, who had often killed with equanimity, seemed agonized. “Kill him,” said Stone to Spear. Spear did not move.

Many times, subtly, then brazenly, had Knife challenged Spear, and sought to undermine his authority. He had interpreted Spear’s patience, his unwillingness to take action, as weakness.

There were few in the group who understood Spear’s unwillingness to slay Knife. Tree thought he understood, and perhaps Arrow Maker knew, and Old Woman.

Tree wondered if Spear were too old to be first. Perhaps, after all, that was why he had not killed Knife. Perhaps Spear was after all, afraid of Knife.

Knife raised the ax. Spear stood there, like rock.

“I am first,” said Knife.

“No,” said Spear.

“Take your ax,” said Knife.

“I do not want to fight you,” said Spear.

“I am first,” said Knife.

“No,” said Spear.

Brenda screamed as the ax struck down. It hit Spear on the upper left shoulder. Spear’s body shook with the impact but he remained standing. Almost immediately the shoulder was covered with blood. “That is not how one kills with an ax,” said Spear.

“Show him,” said Stone. He thrust an ax into Spear’s hands.

Again Knife struck, his two hands on the handle of the ax, but this time Spear, with the ax handed to him by Stone, blocked the blow.

“That is better,” said Spear. “Strike always for the head, above the eyes, or at the back of the neck.”

Knife drew back two paces, breathing heavily, holding the ax.

“I do not want to fight you,” said Spear.

“I am first,” said Knife.

“No,” said Spear. Then he turned away. He dropped the ax to one side and crouched again beside the meat. He gripped the flint knife to again begin the cutting. His head was down.

Brenda screamed.

Again the ax fell, without warning. Spear looked up only in time to move his head to one side. The blow of the stone tore downward at the side of his head, stopped in the shoulder; Brenda saw, sickeningly, in that instant, skin sheared to the bone at the side of Spear’s head, bone at the side of his jaw; then there was only blood at the side of his face, and his eyes, suddenly like those of the maddened cave bear, burned and prodded, and be cried out, leaping across the meat and seized Knife, throwing him a dozen feet away against the stone, wrenching away the ax; four times he struck the dazed, reeling Knife, twice in the back, once on the left arm, once on the leg, until Knife screamed and tore at the dirt, unable to run or lift himself. The men sat impassive, watching. William and Gunther stood to one side. The women, crouching, some standing, alert, frightened, too, watched.

Spear stood over the fallen Knife. His eyes were red with the madness of beasts. He was covered with his own blood, and the ax he lifted was stained with both that of himself and Knife. The handle of the ax was as thick as a girl’s ankle; its head was as large as the doubled fists of a large man; it was fastened to the haft by strips of rawhide more than an inch in width; the ax was more than a yard in length; it was a hunting and killing ax; not a simple tool.

Knife looked up. His left arm and leg were broken. He tried to shield himself with his right arm.

“Kill him,” said Short Leg.

But then Spear lowered his ax, and dropped it to one side. “I am first,” he said to Knife.

“Yes,” said Knife. “You are first.”

“I do not want to fight you,” said Spear. He went then to the meat and, with his own blood running down his shoulder and arm, cut the meat, throwing the first pieces to the children. There was no word in the language of the men for a man’s son, though there was a word for the child of a woman. If there had been such a word, Spear would have said to Knife, “You are my son.”

Spear was still cutting meat when Brenda saw Gunther lift his rifle and point it at him.

“Do not shoot,” cried Brenda.

Spear looked up, his face bloody and terrible. He regarded the weapon with equanimity. But he knew its power. Gunther had seen to that. It had been Gunther who had, yesterday, felled a deer on which the Men had made feast, a clean shot, dropping the animal to its knees and side, from more than three hundred yards.

“Tell him,” said Gunther, “that I am now, leader here.”

Brenda turned white. “No,” she said. Then she translated his words into the language of the Men.

The Men did not seem surprised.

“Tell them there is no meat for them,” said Spear.

Brenda translated.

Annoyance crossed Gunther’s features. “He does not understand,” said he to Hamilton. “Make it clear to him that I, and William, are now leaders here.” His gun was leveled at Spear.

“He has much power,” said Brenda to Spear. “We know his bow is very powerful. He claims leadership. If you resist, he may kill.” Then she said to Gunther. “You are a fool. These men could kill you. You need them. You cannot watch all the time. Do not repay their hospitality with treachery. You cannot be successful.”

“This is obviously the time for us to assume leadership,” said Gunther. “I gather a struggle for dominance has just occurred. This savage at the meat is clearly leader. It now remains only to depose him. I have no wish to kill him. He might. be useful. Tell him that if he cooperates no one will come to harm.” Gunther smiled. “It is all very simple.”

“Beware, Spear,” said Brenda. “His weapon is powerful. He does not wish to kill, only to rule. He is dangerous. He says that if we do as he says, no one will come to harm.”

“I cut meat first,” said Spear.

“He says it is he who is leader here,” said Brenda.

“I am leader,” said Gunther.

“He says,” said Hamilton, “it is he who cuts meat first.”

“Go,” said Spear to William and Gunther. Hamilton translated.

Gunther, furious, stood up, the rifle leveled at Spear. He moved the hammer back.

“Yield to him!” cried out Hamilton to Spear. She looked from face to face. The Men did not seem perturbed. “Do you not understand?” asked Hamilton. “He can kill. His bow can kill! Yield, or he will kill you!”

“Tell them to leave our camp,” said Spear.

Hamilton, in tears, translated. “I gather,” said Gunther, “it will be necessary to kill one man. It is unfortunate, but these are harsh times. I had thought his intelligence greater than it apparently is. He saw the gun kill yesterday. Surely he understands it can kill today as well. He is either stupid, or deficient in his fondness for life.”

Suddenly Hamilton was startled. Suddenly she understood. It had been Gunther’s mistake to show the Men the power of his weapon. The men were not fools. Slowly she said, “Gunther, this man who cuts meat first is neither stupid nor is he deficient in his fondness for life.”

“Go,” said Spear to Gunther and William.

Gunther looked puzzled. Then his face turned white. Swiftly he jerked the weapon open. “Wilhelm!” he said.

William examined his weapon.

“Go,” said Spear, in the language of the Men. “There is no meat for you.”

Hamilton translated. Then she added, “Take your lives and go!,.

Gunther examined the Luger swiftly. Angrily he thrust it back in his holster. He looked at William. William dropped his own pistol back in its holster. He shook his head. He seemed numb. Gunther’s eyes were terrible upon Hamilton.

“I know nothing!” wept Hamilton. “I know nothing!”

“Traitress!” cried Gunther.

“We will die without ammunition,” said William, numbly.

“I know nothing of it!” wept Hamilton.

The Men rose to their feet. Gunther and William backed away. “We will die without ammunition,” said William.

“Go back to your own time!” said Hamilton. “Go back!”

William looked at her. “We can’t,” he said. “It is not an experiment! Retrieval is impossible! Herjellsen forced us into the chamber, at gunpoint! It was a misunderstanding! He overheard Gunther speaking to me of political and military applications of the translation device: It was only speculative, theoretical. We had no intention of exploiting the device! Herjellsen didn’t understand. He has exiled us, Brenda, as much as you! He transmitted our gear and weapons after us! We are prisoners here as much as you, marooned, banished, as you are!”

Hamilton was stunned.

“Herjellsen is insane!” moaned William.

“There are clear political and military applications of the technique,” said Gunther. “Herjellsen is not insane. He is only a fool. With the device he could command the world.”

Cloud brought forth the gear of William and Gunther, and threw it to their feet. They looked down at it.

“You must go,” said Brenda.

They did not omit to notice that it was a female who had brought their things, and threw them to their feet.

“Tell him,” said Gunther, nodding at Spear, “that we will take two females with us.” He gestured at Flower and herself.

“He says,” said Hamilton to Spear, “that he will take Flower and Turtle with him when he goes.”

Spear responded. Hamilton, shoulders back, faced Gunther. Her head was high. “Flower and I,” she said, “belong to the Men. We are theirs, not yours.”

“Give us our bullets,” said Gunther. “We will go.”

Hamilton said, “He said, give us our arrows. We will go.” She then translated Spear’s reply. “You will be put in skirts and made the slaves of women,” she said.

Angrily Gunther slipped into the pack straps. He glared at Hamilton. “I shall not forget this,” said he, “Traitress.”

“I did nothing,” said Hamilton.

His eyes burned upon her.

“I would not have had the courage to steal from you,” she said.

“Who then?” asked he. “Who?

Brenda saw Spear, for the first time, throw a piece of meat to Ugly Girl.

“Ugly Girl,” whispered Hamilton, stunned. “Ugly Girl.”

Knife was lying in the darkness, in the cold, away from the fire.

As William lifted his pack, he looked at Spear, and then at Hamilton. His eyes were troubled. He gestured with his head back to Knife. “I can set his bones,” he said.

“He can make Knife heal straight,” said Brenda.

Spear squinted at the fallen Knife. “Do so,” he said to William, in the language of the Men.

Brenda nodded. William put down his pack.

Cloud prodded Gunther with a switch. He turned about, fiercely. But he saw, with her, Stone and Wolf.

“Go,” said Spear to him.

“I shall wait for you beyond the camp,” said Gunther to William.

Cloud struck him with the switch and, angrily, he turned away. Butterfly, the girl, too, followed him, striking him with a switch. And then the other women, and the children, leaped about him pushing and jeering. He was conducted from the camp. Men too, followed him, Among the children only the boy to whom Butterfly had been cruel did not follow. He watched.

Hamilton knelt before the bloody Spear. She put her head to the ground in submission. “Do not let them kill him beyond the firelight,” she begged.

“Are you his woman?” asked Spear.

“No!” cried Hamilton. “I belong only to you, and the Men! I am yours!”

“Then be silent,” he said.

Agonized, Hamilton withdrew. She looked at Tree. He got up, lightly. “I will not let them kill him,” he said. Then he disappeared in the darkness. In a short time Cloud, followed by Wolf, returned. About her upper left arm she wore Gunther’s wrist watch, as an armlet. Then the others returned. Lastly, Tree came back.

“They did not kill him?” she asked.

He looked at her, angrily. She was suddenly terrified. She realized how much she feared this magnificent man.

William rose from the side of Knife, whose leg and arm he had set and bound, using spear wood and leather. Arrow Maker, intently, had observed.

Flower came to William. He took her briefly in his arms and kissed her. Then not speaking further, he walked from the camp, beyond the perimeter of firelight, following the direction in which Gunther had been conducted. She looked after him. “Flower,” called Knife. “Flower.” But Flower went and knelt behind Spear.

Brenda went to the edge of the firelight, looking out into the darkness. She became aware of Ugly Girl, standing near her. She turned, shuddering, and looked down into the wide, simple eyes. Ugly Girl put out her hand, very gently, touching her arm. “Go away,” said Hamilton. “You are a monster.”

When Hamilton returned to the side of the fire, Tree looked up at her.

“Did they kill him?” asked Hamilton. “Is he still alive?”

Tree looked at her as she had never seen him look before. It frightened her. Then he stood up and seized her by the left arm, dragging her along beside him, and, angrily, threw her ahead of him into the darkness of a small cave. There, brutally, he beat her and raped her. When he had done with her, he said to her, angrily in the darkness, “He is still alive.” Then she felt him binding her wrists behind her back. Then she felt her ankles being crossed and being tied tightly together. She then lay at his side, bound. Suddenly she laughed with pleasure. “You are jealous!” she cried. She squirmed, but could not free herself. She laughed, deliciously, delighted to the quick with this evidence of the depth, the intensity, of his wanting of her. He would give her no chance to follow Gunther and William. She would not be able to run away and pursue them. She knew she would spend the night bound, and, doubtless. the next day would wear leather ankle shackles. She was pleased that Tree knew her limitations as a tracker. If she were natively of the Men’s women, she might have been kept a week in such confinements. She snuggled up to Tree. “No, Master,” she said, “I shall not run off to follow Gunther. You will see to that.” She smiled to herself. A man of her own times might have asked her to choose between himself and another, and freed her to follow her own wishes. The Hunter, wanting her, kept her. It was he who would choose, not her. It was she who would obey. Then in the language of the Men she spoke to Tree, softly, breathlessly, in the darkness. “It is only you whose slave I am,” she whispered. “It is only you whom I love. I love you, my Master. I love you. I love you

She heard, to her indescribable pleasure, Tree’s great laugh in the darkness, and then she felt him untying her ankles, and then, as she suffused with warmth, he thrust them apart, widely. “I love you,” she whispered, and then threw back her head, and cried out with pleasure.

Toward morning, Brenda in his arms, her wrists tied behind her back, her ankles still untied, Tree said, “I gave them back their arrows. Ugly Girl gave them to me, for them. She did not wish them to die. Do not be afraid for them.”

Brenda then understood the meaning of Ugly Girl’s touch that preceding evening, that she was trying to tell her that she had had returned to Gunther and William the means of their survival.

“Thank you,” said Hamilton.

“Whose slave are you?” asked Tree.

“Only yours,” said Hamilton, “-Master.”

He then used his slave again, quickly, without much thought. He then tied together her ankles. Before going to sleep, he wrapped a robe of fur about them, that of a giant cave bear he had slain the preceding spring. Hamilton pressed her bound body against his, and kissed him, but he did not know this, for he was asleep.