Chapter XXIV
After two days gone, Artur’s spirit felt much lifted by walking the forest lands again; the Melics only more so. In fact, Artur did not see the Melics much at all as they reacquainted themselves with the heights of their beloved trees. So he trudged along the spongy banks of the sprawling Alluvia with only the Bedoua.
Krait stayed silent and inscrutable behind his mask, but Humus could not get over the amount of greenery beneath his feet. The water and mud gushed from the ground and up between his toes with every step. He made remark of these wonders constantly to his brothers, and while Ingle reacted often with an angry shrug, Humus could always count on an agreeable nod or word and much clicking from Mistral.
Ingle, having enough of the nature lesson, sharply asked of Artur, “What’s over there?” He pointed to their right, the western edge of the wood.
“Have you never seen?” asked Artur.
“This land belongs to the Rufoux. Bedoua know better than to venture here.” He looked perturbed.
“Well, great trees and standancrags fill up the forest. Deep pools of still water are scattered about, and the rumidonts run wild. The thylak hunt them down.”
“Wild rumidonts? Do they look much different from our domesticates?”
“Not really. Skinnier, I guess, and they run from people.”
“What about the Aoten?”
“Yes, their camp is in that part of the forest. We found them there.”
“Is there anything more?”
“Beyond the woods steaming black pools bubble out of the ground, but we will not go there. The scaled ones make their home there, and the deviltooth that devours men whole. Beyond that the mountains rise into the sky, where some claim a lunatic lives. He is called No-Ahn – “No one” to us – by those who think of him at all; but that’s all.”
Ingle looked into the deep forest thoughtfully but said no more. Artur noted the slight clicking he now heard from Ingle, though his expression had not changed.
Artur set a brisk pace for this part of the journey, no longer struggling against the desert underfoot. The Bedoua’s strides remained unchanged and efficiently left groonits behind, but looked comical as they no longer needed to compensate for the unstable sands of their desert. They appeared like a ball rolling within a ball, their hips undulating as their feet paddled smoothly over the ground. Artur had no idea where the Melics had gone, but he reckoned they could find their way back by themselves. So it came as something as a surprise when a large hickory nut hit him squarely on the helmet.
“What th’,” he said, looking up. He saw Theodoric, or Theodoric’s face, staring out of a sheet of leaves. He pointed desperately to the west, and his mouth appeared to be saying the words, “Get down.”
Artur grabbed Ingle by the arm and looked suddenly toward the west. Ingle shook off his hand violently and began to complain. Artur clamped his hand over Ingle’s mouth and forced him to the ground. Krait immediately jumped to the aid of his fellow, but Artur’s great arms and mighty strength easily enwrapped him and Ingle both and pinned them to the ground. Mistral calmly went to the ground after understanding Artur’s silent commands. His eyes showed the urgency of silence and nothing else, so much so that even Ingle calmed down and kept quiet.
Over their restrained breathing they heard footsteps approaching, a multitude, so many that they could not count, and the sound of scraping. They moved with clumsy, shuffling steps, and heavy, and strained, incoherent grunting accompanied them. Artur took his armful of companions and rolled into some tall grasses.
Only after further admonition to be quiet did Artur release his prisoners. His mouth formed the word “Aoten,” and together they peered through the long, dense blades. Not three or four kronyn from where they had lain, a troop of giants, all adults, marched past, dragging great trees that had died and fallen to earth. They made for the River Alluvia and floated the huge logs, straddling them and stiffly paddling across — with much trouble — until they reached the opposite bank and headed on east.
The band of travelers stood up and cautiously watched. “Where could they be going?” Artur said to himself.
“The thylak hunts after picking the bones dry,” said a voice behind him.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” a startled Artur told Theodoric. He saw Picta behind, smiling at him.
“Sorry. You mean speaking philosophy, or coming up behind you?”
“Yes.”
“I mean the Aoten are starving. Without the Rufoux crops, they have to find the next best thing. They will seek out the Raspar fields.”
“Good enough for them.”
“The Raspars do not know the success of Rufoux farmers, and their fields don’t grow as lush. River Gravidas does not bless the land like Alluvia. Raspar crops never amount to much more than wild plants they have discovered and tended.”
“They’re welcome to them then. They’re welcome to all the Raspars they can eat as well.”
“The Aoten will find the bones dry there, too,” said Theodoric. “They will be back. And when they get a taste of Raspar defenses, they will hurry back. The Rufoux stockade will no longer seem so intimidating to them then.”
At a time not so long ago, Artur might have sneered at Theodoric’s warnings, but now, separated from his clan, he knew the best thing to do was walk. “Let’s go then,” he said.
“Yes, let’s. Perhaps Pepin has had a dream,” and the Melics vaulted back into the trees.
***
In the Rufoux camp, the work on the stockade continued. The Melics remained absent, much to Geoffrey’s agitation, and the Koinoni preoccupied his time. Osewold had dragged away Wyllem so as to keep him from trading away the entire camp.
“When will Artur of the Rufoux return?” asked Yarrow.
“We do not know. He left to visit the Bedoua,” said Geoffrey.
“The Bedoua cannot be trusted,” said Yarrow. “They will not trade.”
“Really? That’s good to know. Now you’d best be getting back on your boat and wait there for Artur. I’m telling you no one here is interested in talking to you.”
“But I see still many Rufoux to talk.”
“Nobody has anything to trade with you. Only Artur will speak to you.”
“You speak to us.”
“Stop that confounded spinning. You make me dizzy, by my eyes and ears both.”
Much, much to Geoffrey’s relief, a crunching sound came out of the nearby forest, and Artur appeared along with one other man. Not for years had Geoffrey hugged his son with such unfeigned affection. “How goes it?” asked Artur brightly.
Geoffrey merely looked over to Yarrow. “I see you’re practically alone,” he remarked.
Artur looked about him and saw only Theodoric. Peering into the woods, he quickly surmised all the others had caught sight of the Koinoni and remained hidden. He looked to the stockade wall and saw only Rufoux.
“I see you’re alone as well,” he said, and Geoffrey nodded.
Artur whipped out Kylie like a shire reeve and gave out orders, “Back on the boats! Back on the boats!”
“We have come to talk with Artur,” said Yarrow.
“I am Artur. If you ever looked at anything but gold you’d remember that. Now get back on your boat.”
“What do you have?”
“I have a sword. Get back on the boat,” and Artur made some persuasive gestures with Kylie.
“Come,” said Theodoric, and he took Yarrow by the sleeve. “Show me your ship. Have you ever seen one of these?” And he took his reed from his belt as they walked toward the boats.
Artur went to the woods to collect the Bedoua and Melics, and took Picta’s elbow. “Pray, go find your woodsmen,” and she left in the direction of the Melic community. Artur made short introduction of everyone to Geoffrey, and left them all in his care except Aachen and Humus, whom he led to hospital.
Most of the wounded Rufoux had been removed, but Andreia and a few others remained, no better in Artur’s absence. The Melic and Bedoua knelt beside the Rufoux maid, and Aachen talked to Humus quietly as he made his examination. Finally he stood up, and the Bedoua clicking arose in his throat.
“Her sickness is not so difficult. I can use the willow we found on the way, and that will bring her heat down. I must go out and find cinchona bark as well, and mustard seed. The other things I already have. I can make her well; we have not arrived too late, I think.”
He took some branches out of their sacks and gave Aachen instructions to boil down the bark. He gave Artur a bottle and prescribed three drops, if Andreia would swallow them. “No less, and by no means any more,” he warned grimly.
As Humus disappeared into the forest, accompanied by Mistral for help and Osewold for protection, Ingle and Krait walked about the Rufoux camp. They took note of the buildings, and the stockade being erected. The look of the guards told them to keep a discreet distance as they passed the storehouse. They walked past the metal shop, and saw Jakke at his mighty furnace; he glanced up with a look of puzzled recognition. The two Bedoua noticed the women at their work, the heavy leather clothing being dressed, the cooking over blazing fires. Great stockpiles of weapons scattered about made their eyes grow big. They visited the work around the outside of the camp, and saw the remains of the Rufoux fields.
“These-sss Rufoux have everything they want. They cannot be trusted,” said Krait.
“They have much, do they not?” said Ingle. “Their armor and weapons make them formidable. Their fields produce grand crops; no doubt the walls of that storehouse bulge with grain. Their faces glow ruddy with health, and they have mastered fire and metals.”
“Yes-sss. They are thieves-sss and rich thieves-sss at that, to have all this-sss.”
“I know of just one thing missing here, Krait. One thing, and do you know what I think it is?” said Ingle.
“What do you mean?”
“The rumidonts, Krait, I don’t see any Bedoua rumidonts! And where do they hid the magnificent weavings of rumidont wool? Where are the wonderful cheeses and butters of the rumidont? And why have they made all the cups of metal and pottery, Krait? Where is the glass? And where have you seen any potions here, Krait? If they stole all the Bedoua wealth, why did they come to us for healing potions? Do you know why? Do you know why, Krait? Because the legends tell lies, Krait! All the legends you base your hatred on are no more than lies! Not a single Bedoua treasure resides in this whole camp!”
Ingle had worked himself into such a froth that he almost had to sit down. But he kept his wits about him for one more outburst.
“No, no Bedoua goods can I find here, but plenty of Rufoux handiwork I do see! And here is an example!” And he whipped Krait’s glasses off his face.
“Where did you get this Rufoux metal, Krait?!” he screamed, mixed with indignant clicking.
