Valley People

Chapter 1 - Chual

Craggy mountains ringed the small valley. Blue shadows coloured the white pristine snow where the sun had not yet caught. Below tree level, in the sun’s fresh gleam, pines on the steep slopes let forth their pungent aroma, ending as a layer of scented air at tree-top height above the valley floor. Tiny fields, bordered the periphery of the village. Snow in the valley was patchy as the rays started to melt a full winter coverlet. Icy breezes caught at the dirty tattered clothing of the few that braved the early spring day. Compared with what winter had thrust at the inhabitants, the air was quite balmy.
Within the compound that made up the centre of the village, the earth was free of snow and frost. A layer of last years straw had kept the freezing ice from totally doing its work and now the ground was slushy but walk-able. The sun had hit the compound early and now people were out and about. A few smudges of green where brave blades of grass dared to break through the ground, brightened the brown of the bare soil. A blossom tree braved the weather and was scenting the air all around the huts with a strong heady perfume from barely open pale yellow blooms. Men and women moved about slowly, trying to complete tasks, their bodies stiff from winter cramps.
Chual was as strong as any other man of his age, or younger for that matter. Gtall, by comparison, but like those he compared himself to, gaunt for time of the season. Not in the flush of youth, he would grudgingly admit, but at least he had made it through the winter with some kind of flesh adhering to his bones, more so than some of the frailer people. They all suffered from the same wasting disease brought on by lack of food and warmth through the winter months. He considered himself lucky.
The grass poking through would feed the few scrawny head beasts that had been over-wintered in one of the abandoned hovels. Not for food for the winter but for the spring and a new crop of young animals. They were not strong enough to be taken to the high pastures until more meat clung to their protruding bones and winter’s icy grip eased enough for the passes to be open and become free of several feet of snow. A few weeks should see them moving. Up there they would have valleys where the grass grew lush, fresh and untouched by the time they were taken up the mountain,
A waft of acrid smoke drifted across Chual’s nostrils. Already, he thought?
The Charnel House, situated on the north side of the village cluster, was filled with bodies, those that had not made it through the bitter winter storms. Three of the old ones had just given up, passed on their rations and waited patiently for the end. Five had perished when an ice block crashed down from above as they lay sleeping. Two were new borns who had come at the wrong time and one……..One was his woman.
The pall of smoke ascended thick and black into the thin mountain air, wiping out the sweetness of the aromatic blossoms, eradicating the pine tree odours. The smoke was sickly with the smell of charred bodies.
Some would eat well tonight!
But not he!
He had no taste for flesh,….. Not of that kind.
Chual carried out favours! For these he was paid in kind, food mostly. Something to supplement his meagre rations. Much of which still remained. He had saved most of his portion and fed himself on what came by as a natural course. White hares mostly, or ptarmigan. It was little enough for a large man. The winter storms had done most of his work for him this winter. His woman, (perhaps he should have bonded with her), had been pregnant. What he did not eat had been destined for her as her gestation progressed. Hardly a feast!
Para had refused at first, saying she was strong and needed no more than any other woman in the village. Chual had insisted. Para had secretly hidden the grain he pressed upon her - in case of emergency. The flesh on her bones had swelled with her gravid state. A greased plump look gave credence to her insistence that she was eating the extra.
A freak accident had killed her outright. A large carver bird flying aloft had dropped the stone it was carrying high above. With spring approaching, the stone - the size of a mna’ fist - was for its new nest. The height that which the bird flew, gravity became the killer. It was sharp and ragged and pierced her brain. For Para, the silent stone was her death knell.
That was six days ago. Death stalked the village at this time of year, in one guise or another.
Turning on his heel, Chual walked away from the wind-blown stench. I sickened him that they had come to this.
Five seasons ago, four even, this had been a happy village full of children. Their laughter had sounded like rippling water. Women baked bread in the clay ovens on the plaza fire, (he could smell its tantalising aroma even now). They chatted, cooked food in the communal roasting pit and washed clothing down in the crystal- clear streams on the southern edge of the village. The sang as they worked the clothing. Men tilled the tiny fields, tended the herd-beasts; hunted the fleet brown deer that sometimes came down to then valley floor. And after work, enjoyed wrestling matches; ran races against each other. Smoked the herbal tobacco traded with visitors during the summer season.
Why had it all changed? Why?
His old friend Raddear had laughed and joked with him on fine summer evenings when work was done, food was eaten and time to take pleasure was abundant. He had gone two summers past. Fallen when a torrent arose and brought great boulders crashing down on him. His broken bones would not knit together. Raddear had begged his old friend to complete the granit’s work. It was the hardest task Chual had ever carried out.
A loud raucous call sounded high above him. Chual turned his head skyward to see a large carver bird flapping its wings lazily in the clear air on his side of the village. Passing across the suns rays, its shadow shaded Chuals head for a moment. He threw up his fist in rage. It might have been the same bird that had inadvertently killed his beloved Para. Thoughts that it might not be the same bird or that his actions were irrational flew out of his mind right then. Had he weapons in his hands he might have tried to shoot a dart into its ugly heart but his hands, like his own heart, were empty. Instead he threw an oath in the bird’s direction. The bird took no notice, slowly wending its way towards the high pastures and the new nesting site.
“Chual, wait up a moment!” It was the new Headman, Kundra.
Chual waited. This man was not someone he cared for but he had only one vote after old Bannor had given up and died. “Yes Kundra.”
“I would have a word with you my friend.” Chual hated being called a friend by someone he cared nothing for.
“I do not think you have need of my services any more this winter,” Chual stated.
“It is almost spring friend Chual. Do you not see the blossoms heralding”.
“I see them Kundra. Now what is it you want?”
“We have come through a hard winter.” Kundra linked arm with Chual, clamped on tight and started them walking towards the fields. There was no way Chual could disengage his limb without throwing the man to the ground, and he thought about it. It disgusted him. Men did not clasp except in combat.
The wind blew in his eye and made it water. Hastily Chual wiped his face with the back of his free hand. Why had Raddear left him alone and bereft? Why was his beloved Para feeding those that were almost dead themselves?
“Too hard,” grumbled Chual under his breath.
Kundra had been too intent on keeping his feet underneath him as the slippery snow-melt mud threatened to up-end him. His grip on Chual’s arm tightened. “Hard indeed.” He had overheard the second word and agreed.
Chual struggled with the headman, wrenching Kundra’s arm out of it grip. The headman put out a hand for help. Against his better nature, Chual put out a hand and hauled the man to his feet. Kundra hardly blinked and eye and carried on.
“ Fewer men have not survived this winter. We have more women than men now. You lost your woman.”
Chual glared at Kundra. He could hear it coming. It was easy to read the man’s mind. Out of its grip. Kundra tried to balance himself and lost the struggle. He landed on his rear in a dirty puddle, his arms waving in the air, trying to gain some kind of dignity.
He struggled, wrenching Kundra’s arm
“We need children Chual. You are a strong man, and healthier than most. The women have agreed to share you. Of course, that is not what we should do, inbreeding and so on, but there are so few of you young men now and we need to breed up more healthy babes or the village will die. No need for love, it is babes we need not lovers. Spring is here and the grass springs green, the cattle will also produce young and there will be milk. It is advisable, no, it is your duty to start as soon as possible.” Kundra’s look entreated Chual to adhere to his words.
“Six days Kundra, It has only been six days. Couldn’t you have waited a while longer?” Chual almost shouted at him, he was close to losing his temper, a rare thing for him. He hated to lose control and just about kept it under control as he accosted the Headman.
“I know my friend, I know! But we have to plant seed quickly. No more babies must be born so late. Give them a chance of life at least.”
Chual calmed a little, the man was only wanting good for the village.
“If it has to be then it has to be. I must go check on the herd-beast Kundra.” With that Chual walked away his mind seething with many emotions. He had not trusted himself to say what he really wanted to tell Kundra. The whole thing was abhorrent to him. Why would he chose to mate with any of the women now when he had only chosen Para before as his one true love? Fear that he might have to sleep with many women to try to beget children, anger that he had been asked to do such a thing when Kundra of all people, knew his feelings. His agreement was just a way of getting out of Kundra’s clutches for the time being. His tacit agreement with himself was something else.
The ungainly Headman stalked away, somewhat disgruntled at Chual’s attitude. However, he had an agreement and that was all that mattered. Now to talk with the females, those he had not already spoken to. Many had not been as happy about the situation as he had told Chual and the other men. But they would come around. Babes meant more rations.
Chual passed the day by seeing to the beasts and feeding them what little hay was left and then bringing them out to graze on the few blades of green grass for a short time whilst he began to think of a plan for himself. His hand gently stroked the nearest cow. He felt how scrawny she was, but, with the promise of fresh grazing appearing daily, she would fatten up, have a calf and build up the herd. Grazing on the high slopes was always good once snow had melted. His only thought was that he wouldn’t see it. For he vowed to leave this place.
The day soon melted away and Chual bedded the herd-beasts down and walked slowly back towards his hut. Skirting the headman’s hut, he hoped to avoid the man. But that was not to be.
“Chual! I’m glad you have come, some of the ladies are ready to talk with you,” Kundra was in high spirits. Other men had agreed to his request and were inside the large hut. “We need you to join in, to drink and put you in the mood.”
Chual’s face clouded and he tried to think of a way to evade the jollities inside the hut. “I am too tired tonight, Kundra. Choose another night for me.”
“If you are so sure Chual, there will be other times, other women. Are you certain that I cannot persuade you? Well, if you are sure? Tomorrow night. Don’t work too hard during the day. Come to think of it, you could take some time during the day with one of them, I am sure they will comply. Doesn’t have to be at night, if that is what you would prefer.” Kundra’s facial expression had a slight leer to it.
“No, night time will be just fine,” Chual replied. Turning, he moved away and sought refuge in his hut. He felt sick at the thought of what he had been asked to do, disgusted that the man should suggest he complied during the day time when all would know what was happening. Except of course that he would find a way out and put his plan into action.
Next day Chual made himself scarce. He went to the woods and chopped wood for the fires. He managed to spend all day out there and returned home at nightfall with two beasts dragging the logs that he had chopped down. By the time he had deposited the logs in the pile and unhooked the cows led them back to the barn and fed them, it was dark. He kept away from the large hut and people were so busy making merry again that they had forgotten about him.
However deep the snow might be, Chual decided he would not, could not, comply with Kundra’s request. A request that would turn into an order. Had he been a younger man; had he not found (and lost) his beloved Para, he might have complied for the sake of the village. Not with one of the elderly matrons, not that under any circumstances. But there were a few woman who would not be unpleasing for the task. He was a man after all and sometimes had needs.
As Darkness fell, he gathered what possesions he might need, a small amount of food the small bundle he had prepared the previous night, he slipped out of his hut and started back down the track to the woods.
The ones who like flesh went to it secretly, gathering around the Charnel House, picking at the bones, those that had long since used up their rations, meagre though they were, forcing themselves to eat to live. Chual was gklad to go from this place. Surely it must be better elsewhere? Chual hand found the necessity abhorrant to him as would be laying with one of the village matrons. He had won the heart of the last young woman and she was gone forever.
In the dark, it was harder to walk through the trees. There was no moon but he little cared if he was heard or not. Soon, if he was not mistaken, the ground would rise. Here he would have to take care. Although he knew the path well, the fog and the darkness were too great a foe to ignore. He would settle himself into the small cave that few in the village knew about. Here he would spend what was left of the night. The morning light would give him courage to move on and out of the valley; hack his way through the snowdrifts and seek out what life had to offer on the other side of the range of mountains. Maybe to the place where his own birth-land lay?
When his mother died young, Chual was but a small child. His father left home taking Chual with him. Hard journeying. He had found this village and had stayed. His father told him it lay east of here, so that was the direction he would take.
He woke as dawn broke over the ridges, It was going to be a nice day. Melt some more snow. Chual grabbed a bite of the dry bread he had managed to secret in his bundle and started out on his journey. He had to be on the move to get as far away from the village as possible.
The snow was soft and not too deep on the slopes. He was careful of every step but made progress so that when mid-morning came, he had covered some distance and was higher up on the snow-laden slopes. He was grateful when he stepped over the ridge and the path began to descend. It was slippery and wet as the heat of the sun melted the snow. The further down he walked, the less snow he found.
Reaching the floor of the valley, he found that there was barely and snow left and walking was much easier. About him, small birds sang in the trees, A small river meandered through the valley. Chual followed the river until finally it descended into a waterfall. The climb down was difficult but he managed to find handholds and places to put his feet until finally, he reached the bottom of another valley. The warmth of the sun penetrated his winter garments. Removing his outer layers, he rolled them up and attached them to his carrisack. Sweat appeared on his brow and he kept moving on downwards through a valley full of green trees and trees in full flower so that many scent and colours assaulted his being. Stopping for a while, he rooted around under some trees and found a cache of nuts. A rock soon smashed the husks. They were a treat from the dry bread and he gobbled them up with relish. Satisfying to the pallet and his empty stomach. He tried again and found a small cache of different nuts, ones he loved but saved them for the following day.
Chual moved on cautiously as he had spied a tiny deer up ahead. Silently he took his slingshot and made ready to caste. One good shot and it was dead. Now he had meat for supper. After gutting the animal, he slung it over his shoulders and kept walking. There were usually greens of some sort beside the river and he would make a grand meal out of what the region provided. As he joynryed, he looked for flint and found some near a rocky outcrop. Another special stone would provide him with the means to make a fire and cook the meat. He saw no-one as he moved along and guessed that any villages lay further perhaps in the next valley?
He stopped late afternoon. The trees whispered and rattled in the breeze. The mountains were tall and they would soon hide the last of the sun’s rays. He found dry wood and grass to set his fire going. The cooking had been done by the village woman but he had often been out hunting and had to learn to cook meat for himself. He made a tripod and skewered the deer onto a damp stick, stretching it over the fire. Rotating the meat was not easy but he did what he could and so as time passed and the sky grew dark, the meat was cooked on all sides.
Chual was not greedy but the succulent meat was tempting and he ate more than he had planned. The nuts and some greens, though raw, completed his meal.
For eight days Chual tramped along a natural trail through other valleys and saw no one but on the ninth day he spied smoke spiralling up to the sky. It was a long way away but it was people. Then it dawned on him to wonder if these people would be friendly. Moving carefully, he headed towards the smoke spiral, killing three fat deer on the way. These were forest deer and not very large. He gutted them and swung them onto his shoulders. If he went in bearing a gift, surely it would seem he came in peace?
There was a compound and several small huts. One large hut stood in the centre of the village. Plenty of people were out and about doing normal things like pounding meal, making arrows, drying animal skins, cooking food. He broke out of the forest and held out the deer in front of him. Several men moved towards Chual, surrounding him. Children left their games and ran up to stare at him. Women left what they were doing and huddled into the large hut, staying within the shadowed interior.
He held out the deer, a large smile on his face. For a moment no-one moved, then the men moved around and formed a guard around him in the shape of an arrow tip. From the large hut a tall man emerged and walked towards Chual. He spoke.
“Are you offering us meat friend?” The man looked Chual up and down trying to discern what sort of man he was.
“I am. I wish a bed for the night and these are my payment.” He motioned to the deer.
“Well then, come and welcome.” The man gave the others a signal and they stepped back and returned to what they were doing. The women were beckoned out and they too carried on with their work.
Two woman relieved him of the deer and went to skin them. Chual wished he had killed more as there seemed to be lots of people and he knew the deer would not go far amongst so many. The village headman, for that was what he apparently was, guided Chual towards the hut.
“Come good fellow. Join us while the women cook the food. I am Goodram. We have lots to talk about. Where do you come from? What is your name and what do you do?” Goodram cast a glinting eye over Chual’s clothing all stained with dirt and blood from the travelling and gutting. “Do you like to smoke? We have tobacco. A rare commodity here but a trader came up last summer and we still have some left. I think we can get you some clean clothing too.” He signalled to one of his men and gave him orders regarding a new set of clothing. “Now, come inside and enjoy the evening with us.”
Chual felt tired after his long trek down to the village and so concurred with Goodram, walking into the hut behind the headman. Torches were lit and Chual looked in wonder at the sumptuous interior. Cloth of many colours was hung on the walls in swathes, some glinted in the torchlight. Bedding was set at one end of the hut and that was covered in the fine cloth as well. Pillows covered half the bedding and he wondered who slept on such a bed. A fire was crackling loudly in the centre in what looked like a pecked out large rock. Chual wondered how many hands had trundled that into the space and how long it had taken to make the deep depression in it so that fire could burn without harming anything.
“So, my friend, what do they call you and where do you come from?”
“I am called Chual, my village is eight days higher up in the mountains. We have had a hard winter so I left to take my chances somewhere else. I didn’t really belong there.” And here he told the story of is father moving from his old village and finding the one he had just left. “So you see, I am searching for my old village but have no idea where it is. My father always said it was to the south, and this is to the south.”
“Well, it is so long ago, my friend , that I do not remember anyone leaving our village. Maybe it was further down from here? Anyway, we will look after you well, for a few days, if you wish?” Goodram look hard at Chual trying to read his thoughts.
“I would like to rest up a little before I go on. I could hunt. For that is what I do.”
“Good. Good. We could use a good hunter and some more of this fresh meat.” Goodram indicated
The food just placed before them. “Eat hearty friend, this looks tasty and will satisfy you.”
Chual felt his stomach grumble as the scents of the cooked food waft up to his nostrils. He had to admit to himself he was hungry.
“Have some of our brew friend Chual. Wash the good food down with some good liquer,” said Goodram. He lifted up a jug and poured some liquer into a horn drinking cup. It frothed at the top. Chual seldom drank back in the other village but he felt at home here and so picked up the frothing cup and drank heartily. Then he spooned up some of the deer stew. It was good. Lots of strange flavours but he liked what he tasted and ate fast. When his dish was empty it was re-filled. He did not notice that Goodram was eating slowly of a much smaller portion. His cup was refilled too, many times. Chual did not notice when it was he passed out but later on in the night he opened his eyes and found he was on the bed and not alone. A beautiful girl lay beside him, languishing in happiness, a smile on her face. Chual sat up in bed and found his head thrummed like the sound of a waterfall. Pain shot through his temples as the aftermath of the liquer attacked his brain.
Chual found himself to be naked and quickly grabbed some clothing set beside the bed on a low stool. Once dressed, he walked slowly towards the opening. A blinding sun hit his eyes and momentarily he ducked back into the shade of the hut.
“Goodram,” he shouted.
“Yes, my friend,” answered Goodram as he suddenly appeared around the side of the hut.
“You tricked me. How dare you ply me with liquer and then sent your woman in to lay with me.
“Did you not enjoy the night friend Chual?”
“No, you tricked me.” All the rage that was within him from the other village, burst forth at Goodram. “How dare you do this to me without even asking if I wanted to lay with her, with any of your women? I am leaving here. I want my things now and I will change into then and be on my way.”
“Oh but friend Chual, I cannot allow that. You are new blood, we need new blood for the children.” A slight nod and several men gathered around Cual and tied him with ropes, taking him back into the hut.
“What are you doing?” cried Chual as he struggled against the bindings, kicking where his leg was loose before that too was bound tightly to the other leg. The dumped him on the bed and tied him to firm stakes he had not noticed were there the previous night. All lights were extinguished so that it became dark inside the hut where he was lying. It seemed he stayed there a long time but finally a woman came in with some food. She fed it to him slowly and although his was seething inside at being hand fed, he was hungry and ate what was given him. He needed his strength.
“At least two days passed and at night he was in pitch darkness. Again he was visited by the woman he had woken up with that first night. He knew it was her as she had a certain scent that his brain recognized. At first he resisted but she wafted something under his nose and under the scent he succumbed. Next morning he found his legs untied but his arms were still bound. His head was muzzy but somewhere deep inside he realised he was a prisoner, a prisoner with a purpose.
A younger woman came in after several hours and washed his face and brushed his hair back from his contorted face. “Where am I?” he asked. “What are you doing to me?” She said nothing but carried on making him less sweaty. She also fed him some of the meat stew from the deer he brought in. Gave him more liquer to drink. He could taste something drying on his palate and then fell down on the bed in a stupor.
This went on for several days and each morning he felt used. He asked to be let loose. He asked for the headman, but his request was denied. His anger each morning was soon dissipated when he spoke to the young woman. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Acer,” she replied demurely. “I have to take care of you for the new maiden tonight.” And with that she carried on with her daily tasks.
“Acer, help me get away!”
“I cannot, I would be killed.”
Chual noticed her eyes glazing over. No ladies man, he was at a loss as to what to say to her to comfort her.
“I would take you with me,” he replied. Not knowing where that thought came from. Gazing gently at her face, her demure manner, hands wringing in her lap.
“I am too frightened.” Fear hid behind the tear that started to drop from her eye.
Tonight, before anything happens. Throw the liquer away and I will pretend to have drunk it. Come back just after dark and we will escape together. Acer nodded her assent and threw the liquer behind the bed. Just Then the headman came in and looked at Chual who immediately lolled his head and passed out on the bed. The man grinned and left, signing that Acer should leave too. Acer, now full of hope, grabbed her things and left the hut. “I will be back,” she whispered softly, as she reached the open doorway, than left the hut.
Chual, hands now free of bonds, untied the ropes around his ankles but left them loose so that at a casual glance he would still look to be tied up. His mind, now not befuddled with drugs, he starting mulling over why the Headman had done this to him. It was obvious that he wanted new blood for what other reason was there; he had just left his own village for that very reason and here he was fulfilling someone else’s purpose. He was angry but sane enough to hide that anger for now. Escape was on his mind and now he had someone else to worry about in escaping.
Night could not come fast enough for Chual. Soon enough a new maiden dipped through the doorway but Acer accompanied her. She was not much past childhood and scared. Acer brought her to the bed and told Chual to do his duty…
Chual, acting drugged, lay across the girl and pretended to fall asleep.
“He was given too much. You must go and say that he was not well enough and you will come again tomorrow night,” Acer said to the maiden who nodded, grateful that she did not have to go trough this ordeal.
When the Headman found out he came and looked at Chual who slept on oblivious. Luckily it was just a cursory glance.
“Watch him girl,” he said to Acer. If he wakes get the girl back and make him take her,” His eyes bore into Acer’s, a hint of menace in his look, Irritated and frustrated in his plans, the Headman left the hut. Acer was frozen with fear. She ran over to the bed. “He has gone now,” she told Chual.
“We will wait until it is well dark and everyone is asleep. Do they keep guards at night?” he asked her. Acer shook her head. “Then we wait and wait,” said Chual.
Darkness fell over the village but Chual waited until a long time had past to make sure all were sleeping, then slipping the ropes, he grabbed Acer’s hand and slowly moved to the doorway. Listening, he determined that the village was silent. Slipping around to the far side of the hut, they crept between other smaller dwellings and headed for the trees. Going through the woods at night was hard as they stumbled many times over fallen logs and twining branches and plants. Chual set a fast pace and Acer was hard-pushed to keep up. After a long run, they stopped to rest for a few minutes.
“We must make a good run, the sun will rise soon and we have to be long gone. I will not put up with that again.” They started again and the woods thinned out and the going was better. They ran faster. The ground rose gently but the going was good.
Dawn broke and the sky was red and golden. Pretty, had they time to look at it. Acer slowed. She needed to rest. Chual stopped and listened, thought he could hear shouting in the woods far off. “We must go, now!” he yanked Acer up from the ground, held he hand tightly and ran fast. Then stopped. The ground ended in a drop-off. Just below trees grew tall and spread their branches. “We have to jump, no other way,” he urged her
They ran back a little way and then made a mad rush leaping off the cliff top and catching the branches. They were scratched and bleeding but climbed down to where the trees were thicker and they would be hidden from sight. They soon could here the Headman and his men searching for them. Acer and Chual stayed until it was dark then started their descent, away from the village, away from the maidens away from their duties to freedom.


Copyright 2002 continued 2010.


Valley People

Chapter 1 - Chual

Craggy mountains ringed the small valley. Blue shadows coloured the white pristine snow where the sun had not yet caught. Below tree level, in the sun’s fresh gleam, pines on the steep slopes let forth their pungent aroma, ending as a layer of scented air at tree-top height above the valley floor. Tiny fields, bordered the periphery of the village. Snow in the valley was patchy as the rays started to melt a full winter coverlet. Icy breezes caught at the dirty tattered clothing of the few that braved the early spring day. Compared with what winter had thrust at the inhabitants, the air was quite balmy.
Within the compound that made up the centre of the village, the earth was free of snow and frost. A layer of last years straw had kept the freezing ice from totally doing its work and now the ground was slushy but walk-able. The sun had hit the compound early and now people were out and about. A few smudges of green where brave blades of grass dared to break through the ground, brightened the brown of the bare soil. A blossom tree braved the weather and was scenting the air all around the huts with a strong heady perfume from barely open pale yellow blooms. Men and women moved about slowly, trying to complete tasks, their bodies stiff from winter cramps.
Chual was as strong as any other man of his age, or younger for that matter. Gtall, by comparison, but like those he compared himself to, gaunt for time of the season. Not in the flush of youth, he would grudgingly admit, but at least he had made it through the winter with some kind of flesh adhering to his bones, more so than some of the frailer people. They all suffered from the same wasting disease brought on by lack of food and warmth through the winter months. He considered himself lucky.
The grass poking through would feed the few scrawny head beasts that had been over-wintered in one of the abandoned hovels. Not for food for the winter but for the spring and a new crop of young animals. They were not strong enough to be taken to the high pastures until more meat clung to their protruding bones and winter’s icy grip eased enough for the passes to be open and become free of several feet of snow. A few weeks should see them moving. Up there they would have valleys where the grass grew lush, fresh and untouched by the time they were taken up the mountain,
A waft of acrid smoke drifted across Chual’s nostrils. Already, he thought?
The Charnel House, situated on the north side of the village cluster, was filled with bodies, those that had not made it through the bitter winter storms. Three of the old ones had just given up, passed on their rations and waited patiently for the end. Five had perished when an ice block crashed down from above as they lay sleeping. Two were new borns who had come at the wrong time and one……..One was his woman.
The pall of smoke ascended thick and black into the thin mountain air, wiping out the sweetness of the aromatic blossoms, eradicating the pine tree odours. The smoke was sickly with the smell of charred bodies.
Some would eat well tonight!
But not he!
He had no taste for flesh,….. Not of that kind.
Chual carried out favours! For these he was paid in kind, food mostly. Something to supplement his meagre rations. Much of which still remained. He had saved most of his portion and fed himself on what came by as a natural course. White hares mostly, or ptarmigan. It was little enough for a large man. The winter storms had done most of his work for him this winter. His woman, (perhaps he should have bonded with her), had been pregnant. What he did not eat had been destined for her as her gestation progressed. Hardly a feast!
Para had refused at first, saying she was strong and needed no more than any other woman in the village. Chual had insisted. Para had secretly hidden the grain he pressed upon her - in case of emergency. The flesh on her bones had swelled with her gravid state. A greased plump look gave credence to her insistence that she was eating the extra.
A freak accident had killed her outright. A large carver bird flying aloft had dropped the stone it was carrying high above. With spring approaching, the stone - the size of a mna’ fist - was for its new nest. The height that which the bird flew, gravity became the killer. It was sharp and ragged and pierced her brain. For Para, the silent stone was her death knell.
That was six days ago. Death stalked the village at this time of year, in one guise or another.
Turning on his heel, Chual walked away from the wind-blown stench. I sickened him that they had come to this.
Five seasons ago, four even, this had been a happy village full of children. Their laughter had sounded like rippling water. Women baked bread in the clay ovens on the plaza fire, (he could smell its tantalising aroma even now). They chatted, cooked food in the communal roasting pit and washed clothing down in the crystal- clear streams on the southern edge of the village. The sang as they worked the clothing. Men tilled the tiny fields, tended the herd-beasts; hunted the fleet brown deer that sometimes came down to then valley floor. And after work, enjoyed wrestling matches; ran races against each other. Smoked the herbal tobacco traded with visitors during the summer season.
Why had it all changed? Why?
His old friend Raddear had laughed and joked with him on fine summer evenings when work was done, food was eaten and time to take pleasure was abundant. He had gone two summers past. Fallen when a torrent arose and brought great boulders crashing down on him. His broken bones would not knit together. Raddear had begged his old friend to complete the granit’s work. It was the hardest task Chual had ever carried out.
A loud raucous call sounded high above him. Chual turned his head skyward to see a large carver bird flapping its wings lazily in the clear air on his side of the village. Passing across the suns rays, its shadow shaded Chuals head for a moment. He threw up his fist in rage. It might have been the same bird that had inadvertently killed his beloved Para. Thoughts that it might not be the same bird or that his actions were irrational flew out of his mind right then. Had he weapons in his hands he might have tried to shoot a dart into its ugly heart but his hands, like his own heart, were empty. Instead he threw an oath in the bird’s direction. The bird took no notice, slowly wending its way towards the high pastures and the new nesting site.
“Chual, wait up a moment!” It was the new Headman, Kundra.
Chual waited. This man was not someone he cared for but he had only one vote after old Bannor had given up and died. “Yes Kundra.”
“I would have a word with you my friend.” Chual hated being called a friend by someone he cared nothing for.
“I do not think you have need of my services any more this winter,” Chual stated.
“It is almost spring friend Chual. Do you not see the blossoms heralding”.
“I see them Kundra. Now what is it you want?”
“We have come through a hard winter.” Kundra linked arm with Chual, clamped on tight and started them walking towards the fields. There was no way Chual could disengage his limb without throwing the man to the ground, and he thought about it. It disgusted him. Men did not clasp except in combat.
The wind blew in his eye and made it water. Hastily Chual wiped his face with the back of his free hand. Why had Raddear left him alone and bereft? Why was his beloved Para feeding those that were almost dead themselves?
“Too hard,” grumbled Chual under his breath.
Kundra had been too intent on keeping his feet underneath him as the slippery snow-melt mud threatened to up-end him. His grip on Chual’s arm tightened. “Hard indeed.” He had overheard the second word and agreed.
Chual struggled with the headman, wrenching Kundra’s arm out of it grip. The headman put out a hand for help. Against his better nature, Chual put out a hand and hauled the man to his feet. Kundra hardly blinked and eye and carried on.
“ Fewer men have not survived this winter. We have more women than men now. You lost your woman.”
Chual glared at Kundra. He could hear it coming. It was easy to read the man’s mind. Out of its grip. Kundra tried to balance himself and lost the struggle. He landed on his rear in a dirty puddle, his arms waving in the air, trying to gain some kind of dignity.
He struggled, wrenching Kundra’s arm
“We need children Chual. You are a strong man, and healthier than most. The women have agreed to share you. Of course, that is not what we should do, inbreeding and so on, but there are so few of you young men now and we need to breed up more healthy babes or the village will die. No need for love, it is babes we need not lovers. Spring is here and the grass springs green, the cattle will also produce young and there will be milk. It is advisable, no, it is your duty to start as soon as possible.” Kundra’s look entreated Chual to adhere to his words.
“Six days Kundra, It has only been six days. Couldn’t you have waited a while longer?” Chual almost shouted at him, he was close to losing his temper, a rare thing for him. He hated to lose control and just about kept it under control as he accosted the Headman.
“I know my friend, I know! But we have to plant seed quickly. No more babies must be born so late. Give them a chance of life at least.”
Chual calmed a little, the man was only wanting good for the village.
“If it has to be then it has to be. I must go check on the herd-beast Kundra.” With that Chual walked away his mind seething with many emotions. He had not trusted himself to say what he really wanted to tell Kundra. The whole thing was abhorrent to him. Why would he chose to mate with any of the women now when he had only chosen Para before as his one true love? Fear that he might have to sleep with many women to try to beget children, anger that he had been asked to do such a thing when Kundra of all people, knew his feelings. His agreement was just a way of getting out of Kundra’s clutches for the time being. His tacit agreement with himself was something else.
The ungainly Headman stalked away, somewhat disgruntled at Chual’s attitude. However, he had an agreement and that was all that mattered. Now to talk with the females, those he had not already spoken to. Many had not been as happy about the situation as he had told Chual and the other men. But they would come around. Babes meant more rations.
Chual passed the day by seeing to the beasts and feeding them what little hay was left and then bringing them out to graze on the few blades of green grass for a short time whilst he began to think of a plan for himself. His hand gently stroked the nearest cow. He felt how scrawny she was, but, with the promise of fresh grazing appearing daily, she would fatten up, have a calf and build up the herd. Grazing on the high slopes was always good once snow had melted. His only thought was that he wouldn’t see it. For he vowed to leave this place.
The day soon melted away and Chual bedded the herd-beasts down and walked slowly back towards his hut. Skirting the headman’s hut, he hoped to avoid the man. But that was not to be.
“Chual! I’m glad you have come, some of the ladies are ready to talk with you,” Kundra was in high spirits. Other men had agreed to his request and were inside the large hut. “We need you to join in, to drink and put you in the mood.”
Chual’s face clouded and he tried to think of a way to evade the jollities inside the hut. “I am too tired tonight, Kundra. Choose another night for me.”
“If you are so sure Chual, there will be other times, other women. Are you certain that I cannot persuade you? Well, if you are sure? Tomorrow night. Don’t work too hard during the day. Come to think of it, you could take some time during the day with one of them, I am sure they will comply. Doesn’t have to be at night, if that is what you would prefer.” Kundra’s facial expression had a slight leer to it.
“No, night time will be just fine,” Chual replied. Turning, he moved away and sought refuge in his hut. He felt sick at the thought of what he had been asked to do, disgusted that the man should suggest he complied during the day time when all would know what was happening. Except of course that he would find a way out and put his plan into action.
Next day Chual made himself scarce. He went to the woods and chopped wood for the fires. He managed to spend all day out there and returned home at nightfall with two beasts dragging the logs that he had chopped down. By the time he had deposited the logs in the pile and unhooked the cows led them back to the barn and fed them, it was dark. He kept away from the large hut and people were so busy making merry again that they had forgotten about him.
However deep the snow might be, Chual decided he would not, could not, comply with Kundra’s request. A request that would turn into an order. Had he been a younger man; had he not found (and lost) his beloved Para, he might have complied for the sake of the village. Not with one of the elderly matrons, not that under any circumstances. But there were a few woman who would not be unpleasing for the task. He was a man after all and sometimes had needs.
As Darkness fell, he gathered what possesions he might need, a small amount of food the small bundle he had prepared the previous night, he slipped out of his hut and started back down the track to the woods.
The ones who like flesh went to it secretly, gathering around the Charnel House, picking at the bones, those that had long since used up their rations, meagre though they were, forcing themselves to eat to live. Chual was gklad to go from this place. Surely it must be better elsewhere? Chual hand found the necessity abhorrant to him as would be laying with one of the village matrons. He had won the heart of the last young woman and she was gone forever.
In the dark, it was harder to walk through the trees. There was no moon but he little cared if he was heard or not. Soon, if he was not mistaken, the ground would rise. Here he would have to take care. Although he knew the path well, the fog and the darkness were too great a foe to ignore. He would settle himself into the small cave that few in the village knew about. Here he would spend what was left of the night. The morning light would give him courage to move on and out of the valley; hack his way through the snowdrifts and seek out what life had to offer on the other side of the range of mountains. Maybe to the place where his own birth-land lay?
When his mother died young, Chual was but a small child. His father left home taking Chual with him. Hard journeying. He had found this village and had stayed. His father told him it lay east of here, so that was the direction he would take.
He woke as dawn broke over the ridges, It was going to be a nice day. Melt some more snow. Chual grabbed a bite of the dry bread he had managed to secret in his bundle and started out on his journey. He had to be on the move to get as far away from the village as possible.
The snow was soft and not too deep on the slopes. He was careful of every step but made progress so that when mid-morning came, he had covered some distance and was higher up on the snow-laden slopes. He was grateful when he stepped over the ridge and the path began to descend. It was slippery and wet as the heat of the sun melted the snow. The further down he walked, the less snow he found.
Reaching the floor of the valley, he found that there was barely and snow left and walking was much easier. About him, small birds sang in the trees, A small river meandered through the valley. Chual followed the river until finally it descended into a waterfall. The climb down was difficult but he managed to find handholds and places to put his feet until finally, he reached the bottom of another valley. The warmth of the sun penetrated his winter garments. Removing his outer layers, he rolled them up and attached them to his carrisack. Sweat appeared on his brow and he kept moving on downwards through a valley full of green trees and trees in full flower so that many scent and colours assaulted his being. Stopping for a while, he rooted around under some trees and found a cache of nuts. A rock soon smashed the husks. They were a treat from the dry bread and he gobbled them up with relish. Satisfying to the pallet and his empty stomach. He tried again and found a small cache of different nuts, ones he loved but saved them for the following day.
Chual moved on cautiously as he had spied a tiny deer up ahead. Silently he took his slingshot and made ready to caste. One good shot and it was dead. Now he had meat for supper. After gutting the animal, he slung it over his shoulders and kept walking. There were usually greens of some sort beside the river and he would make a grand meal out of what the region provided. As he joynryed, he looked for flint and found some near a rocky outcrop. Another special stone would provide him with the means to make a fire and cook the meat. He saw no-one as he moved along and guessed that any villages lay further perhaps in the next valley?
He stopped late afternoon. The trees whispered and rattled in the breeze. The mountains were tall and they would soon hide the last of the sun’s rays. He found dry wood and grass to set his fire going. The cooking had been done by the village woman but he had often been out hunting and had to learn to cook meat for himself. He made a tripod and skewered the deer onto a damp stick, stretching it over the fire. Rotating the meat was not easy but he did what he could and so as time passed and the sky grew dark, the meat was cooked on all sides.
Chual was not greedy but the succulent meat was tempting and he ate more than he had planned. The nuts and some greens, though raw, completed his meal.
For eight days Chual tramped along a natural trail through other valleys and saw no one but on the ninth day he spied smoke spiralling up to the sky. It was a long way away but it was people. Then it dawned on him to wonder if these people would be friendly. Moving carefully, he headed towards the smoke spiral, killing three fat deer on the way. These were forest deer and not very large. He gutted them and swung them onto his shoulders. If he went in bearing a gift, surely it would seem he came in peace?
There was a compound and several small huts. One large hut stood in the centre of the village. Plenty of people were out and about doing normal things like pounding meal, making arrows, drying animal skins, cooking food. He broke out of the forest and held out the deer in front of him. Several men moved towards Chual, surrounding him. Children left their games and ran up to stare at him. Women left what they were doing and huddled into the large hut, staying within the shadowed interior.
He held out the deer, a large smile on his face. For a moment no-one moved, then the men moved around and formed a guard around him in the shape of an arrow tip. From the large hut a tall man emerged and walked towards Chual. He spoke.
“Are you offering us meat friend?” The man looked Chual up and down trying to discern what sort of man he was.
“I am. I wish a bed for the night and these are my payment.” He motioned to the deer.
“Well then, come and welcome.” The man gave the others a signal and they stepped back and returned to what they were doing. The women were beckoned out and they too carried on with their work.
Two woman relieved him of the deer and went to skin them. Chual wished he had killed more as there seemed to be lots of people and he knew the deer would not go far amongst so many. The village headman, for that was what he apparently was, guided Chual towards the hut.
“Come good fellow. Join us while the women cook the food. I am Goodram. We have lots to talk about. Where do you come from? What is your name and what do you do?” Goodram cast a glinting eye over Chual’s clothing all stained with dirt and blood from the travelling and gutting. “Do you like to smoke? We have tobacco. A rare commodity here but a trader came up last summer and we still have some left. I think we can get you some clean clothing too.” He signalled to one of his men and gave him orders regarding a new set of clothing. “Now, come inside and enjoy the evening with us.”
Chual felt tired after his long trek down to the village and so concurred with Goodram, walking into the hut behind the headman. Torches were lit and Chual looked in wonder at the sumptuous interior. Cloth of many colours was hung on the walls in swathes, some glinted in the torchlight. Bedding was set at one end of the hut and that was covered in the fine cloth as well. Pillows covered half the bedding and he wondered who slept on such a bed. A fire was crackling loudly in the centre in what looked like a pecked out large rock. Chual wondered how many hands had trundled that into the space and how long it had taken to make the deep depression in it so that fire could burn without harming anything.
“So, my friend, what do they call you and where do you come from?”
“I am called Chual, my village is eight days higher up in the mountains. We have had a hard winter so I left to take my chances somewhere else. I didn’t really belong there.” And here he told the story of is father moving from his old village and finding the one he had just left. “So you see, I am searching for my old village but have no idea where it is. My father always said it was to the south, and this is to the south.”
“Well, it is so long ago, my friend , that I do not remember anyone leaving our village. Maybe it was further down from here? Anyway, we will look after you well, for a few days, if you wish?” Goodram look hard at Chual trying to read his thoughts.
“I would like to rest up a little before I go on. I could hunt. For that is what I do.”
“Good. Good. We could use a good hunter and some more of this fresh meat.” Goodram indicated
The food just placed before them. “Eat hearty friend, this looks tasty and will satisfy you.”
Chual felt his stomach grumble as the scents of the cooked food waft up to his nostrils. He had to admit to himself he was hungry.
“Have some of our brew friend Chual. Wash the good food down with some good liquer,” said Goodram. He lifted up a jug and poured some liquer into a horn drinking cup. It frothed at the top. Chual seldom drank back in the other village but he felt at home here and so picked up the frothing cup and drank heartily. Then he spooned up some of the deer stew. It was good. Lots of strange flavours but he liked what he tasted and ate fast. When his dish was empty it was re-filled. He did not notice that Goodram was eating slowly of a much smaller portion. His cup was refilled too, many times. Chual did not notice when it was he passed out but later on in the night he opened his eyes and found he was on the bed and not alone. A beautiful girl lay beside him, languishing in happiness, a smile on her face. Chual sat up in bed and found his head thrummed like the sound of a waterfall. Pain shot through his temples as the aftermath of the liquer attacked his brain.
Chual found himself to be naked and quickly grabbed some clothing set beside the bed on a low stool. Once dressed, he walked slowly towards the opening. A blinding sun hit his eyes and momentarily he ducked back into the shade of the hut.
“Goodram,” he shouted.
“Yes, my friend,” answered Goodram as he suddenly appeared around the side of the hut.
“You tricked me. How dare you ply me with liquer and then sent your woman in to lay with me.
“Did you not enjoy the night friend Chual?”
“No, you tricked me.” All the rage that was within him from the other village, burst forth at Goodram. “How dare you do this to me without even asking if I wanted to lay with her, with any of your women? I am leaving here. I want my things now and I will change into then and be on my way.”
“Oh but friend Chual, I cannot allow that. You are new blood, we need new blood for the children.” A slight nod and several men gathered around Cual and tied him with ropes, taking him back into the hut.
“What are you doing?” cried Chual as he struggled against the bindings, kicking where his leg was loose before that too was bound tightly to the other leg. The dumped him on the bed and tied him to firm stakes he had not noticed were there the previous night. All lights were extinguished so that it became dark inside the hut where he was lying. It seemed he stayed there a long time but finally a woman came in with some food. She fed it to him slowly and although his was seething inside at being hand fed, he was hungry and ate what was given him. He needed his strength.
“At least two days passed and at night he was in pitch darkness. Again he was visited by the woman he had woken up with that first night. He knew it was her as she had a certain scent that his brain recognized. At first he resisted but she wafted something under his nose and under the scent he succumbed. Next morning he found his legs untied but his arms were still bound. His head was muzzy but somewhere deep inside he realised he was a prisoner, a prisoner with a purpose.
A younger woman came in after several hours and washed his face and brushed his hair back from his contorted face. “Where am I?” he asked. “What are you doing to me?” She said nothing but carried on making him less sweaty. She also fed him some of the meat stew from the deer he brought in. Gave him more liquer to drink. He could taste something drying on his palate and then fell down on the bed in a stupor.
This went on for several days and each morning he felt used. He asked to be let loose. He asked for the headman, but his request was denied. His anger each morning was soon dissipated when he spoke to the young woman. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Acer,” she replied demurely. “I have to take care of you for the new maiden tonight.” And with that she carried on with her daily tasks.
“Acer, help me get away!”
“I cannot, I would be killed.”
Chual noticed her eyes glazing over. No ladies man, he was at a loss as to what to say to her to comfort her.
“I would take you with me,” he replied. Not knowing where that thought came from. Gazing gently at her face, her demure manner, hands wringing in her lap.
“I am too frightened.” Fear hid behind the tear that started to drop from her eye.
Tonight, before anything happens. Throw the liquer away and I will pretend to have drunk it. Come back just after dark and we will escape together. Acer nodded her assent and threw the liquer behind the bed. Just Then the headman came in and looked at Chual who immediately lolled his head and passed out on the bed. The man grinned and left, signing that Acer should leave too. Acer, now full of hope, grabbed her things and left the hut. “I will be back,” she whispered softly, as she reached the open doorway, than left the hut.
Chual, hands now free of bonds, untied the ropes around his ankles but left them loose so that at a casual glance he would still look to be tied up. His mind, now not befuddled with drugs, he starting mulling over why the Headman had done this to him. It was obvious that he wanted new blood for what other reason was there; he had just left his own village for that very reason and here he was fulfilling someone else’s purpose. He was angry but sane enough to hide that anger for now. Escape was on his mind and now he had someone else to worry about in escaping.
Night could not come fast enough for Chual. Soon enough a new maiden dipped through the doorway but Acer accompanied her. She was not much past childhood and scared. Acer brought her to the bed and told Chual to do his duty…
Chual, acting drugged, lay across the girl and pretended to fall asleep.
“He was given too much. You must go and say that he was not well enough and you will come again tomorrow night,” Acer said to the maiden who nodded, grateful that she did not have to go trough this ordeal.
When the Headman found out he came and looked at Chual who slept on oblivious. Luckily it was just a cursory glance.
“Watch him girl,” he said to Acer. If he wakes get the girl back and make him take her,” His eyes bore into Acer’s, a hint of menace in his look, Irritated and frustrated in his plans, the Headman left the hut. Acer was frozen with fear. She ran over to the bed. “He has gone now,” she told Chual.
“We will wait until it is well dark and everyone is asleep. Do they keep guards at night?” he asked her. Acer shook her head. “Then we wait and wait,” said Chual.
Darkness fell over the village but Chual waited until a long time had past to make sure all were sleeping, then slipping the ropes, he grabbed Acer’s hand and slowly moved to the doorway. Listening, he determined that the village was silent. Slipping around to the far side of the hut, they crept between other smaller dwellings and headed for the trees. Going through the woods at night was hard as they stumbled many times over fallen logs and twining branches and plants. Chual set a fast pace and Acer was hard-pushed to keep up. After a long run, they stopped to rest for a few minutes.
“We must make a good run, the sun will rise soon and we have to be long gone. I will not put up with that again.” They started again and the woods thinned out and the going was better. They ran faster. The ground rose gently but the going was good.
Dawn broke and the sky was red and golden. Pretty, had they time to look at it. Acer slowed. She needed to rest. Chual stopped and listened, thought he could hear shouting in the woods far off. “We must go, now!” he yanked Acer up from the ground, held he hand tightly and ran fast. Then stopped. The ground ended in a drop-off. Just below trees grew tall and spread their branches. “We have to jump, no other way,” he urged her
They ran back a little way and then made a mad rush leaping off the cliff top and catching the branches. They were scratched and bleeding but climbed down to where the trees were thicker and they would be hidden from sight. They soon could here the Headman and his men searching for them. Acer and Chual stayed until it was dark then started their descent, away from the village, away from the maidens away from their duties to freedom.


Copyright 2002 continued 2010.


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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 18.02.2011

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