Climate of Change (38 page)

We don't really know the history or interpersonal relations of the Australian Aborigines before the white man took over their continent. But their diet and legends are as presented here. They did not have pottery or the bow and arrow, as these things seem to have been developed after they crossed to Australia, but did have the spear, atlatl, war club, and boomerang. They did not practice formal agriculture, but did preserve yam plants and spit fruit seeds into fertilized ground as described. So they understood the principles of planting and nurturing, and surely would have taken it farther had it been expedient. They did just fine, until the more advanced technology of the Europeans intruded.

Rebel's dream visions were of two kinds: Dreamtime legends existing among various Aborigine clans, and re-creations of the ancestors of humankind. They were correct in essence, if not in detail; she tended to fill in details she knew in her present, such as dingo dogs, that had not been domesticated two million years before. She was tracing the development of her species, in her fashion, as she sought to recover her faculty of language.

The thing that most clearly distinguishes mankind from all other species on Earth is his giant brain, monstrous for a body his size. Theories for its development abound, and there may be no consensus, but the evidence is growing that it was symbolic language that powered the brain's ascent. When our ancestors diverged from the chimpanzees, they started out with similar mental capacities. But Australopithecus may have stumbled on a better way to get along: the first organized verbal symbols. Many animals have verbal expressions for danger, pain, warning, comfort, alarm or whatever, and these can be considered symbols, as a cry of pain is not the pain itself. But they are fixed; the animals do not organize or manipulate them. They never say, “If you get bitten by a rattlesnake, you will be in pain.” They don't have language. Neither did our ancestors, originally, but somewhere along the way they took the step that led to the first very simple language. It may have consisted of all proper nouns, with each significant tree or rock or path given its special name. It may have developed adjectives to qualify those nouns: the
good
berries, the
bad
leopard, making communication more flexible. They may have discovered prepositions: leopard
in
the berry patch, fruit
under
the tree. That may have led to verbs: the leopard
is
in the berry patch. We don't know how it developed, just that it did. Slowly, over the course of millennia, of eons, true symbolic language developed. Because even the simplest language was immensely more complicated than mere animal sounds, it powered an enormous increase in the size of the brain. This in turn forced other significant compromises, such as the reduction of body fur and promotion of sweating as a cooling mechanism, because that burgeoning brain had to be cooled. But it was worth it, because with superior communication came superior intelligence and group organization, leading to
the eventual conquest of the world by mankind. Appreciation of symbolism also brought the arts, including storytelling, which encouraged further development of language.

And so our species became what it is today, distinguished by its huge brain and its appreciation of all the arts, powered by the gradual development of ever more sophisticated language. There are no simple languages today, but there were two million years ago.

The mountain range of the Pyrenees served as an effective barrier to invasions in either direction. On occasion conquests were made, but generally the lands to the north and south were in different hands. In 711 AD the Moors defeated the Visigoths and took over the Hispanic peninsula. In 732 they pressed on north into France, but were balked by the Franks, and settled down in Spain. But schisms in the Muslim realm weakened it, and the Basques were among those peoples able to maintain a fair amount of independence. To the north, the Franks consolidated their power in France, and established control over the Basque territory north of the Pyrenees.

In 768 AD Pepin, the king of the Franks, died, and left the kingdom to his two sons, one of whom was Charles, who was interested in enlarging his domain. But the Moors were too strong in their territory for him to attack without a secure base in Spain. In 777 he received a surprising visit: a Moorish delegation petitioned him for help in a rebellion against another faction. In exchange, Charles could have the city of Saragossa, a stronghold in northern Spain. This could be exactly the base Charles needed to displace the Saracens, striking a blow for Christianity, not to mention increasing his own power. He quickly agreed, and in the summer of 778 sent two armies south. These were formidable forces, 40,000 to 70,000 men in all, with their supporting apparatus, surely sufficient to push back the Moors if given a suitable
base of operations. Charles led one force himself, crossing the Pyrenees and occupying the city of Pamplona in Navarra. The second force took a longer route around the eastern edge of the mountains and down to Barcelona. There was no significant resistance, though the folk of the countryside did not like the intrusion.

The setting is the Basque territory of Navarra, 778.

Haven and Keeper were in the city of Pamplona when it happened. The city was Basque, but under the control of the Moors. The Moors were tolerable as long as they didn't try to press their heathen religion on the natives. They were here to trade for supplies, staying with their friends Flo and Jes. Jes's husband was rich and generous, which helped.

“The Franks are coming!” Jes exclaimed, having gotten early news.

“The Franks?” Haven asked, amazed. “How is it possible?”

“Suleiman Ibn al-Arabi, the governor of Barcelona, invited him. The cities are not fighting at all.”

“Well, we Basques don't want the Franks here,” Haven said. “We prefer our independence.”

“We certainly do,” Flo agreed warmly. “But I think we had better keep our mouths shut while the Franks are here, as we have no army to oppose them.”

Haven nodded. When the Moors made an alliance with the Franks, it would be folly to challenge them. But she knew her countrymen would not like this development at all. “I think Keeper and I had better get home before the Franks arrive.” Not that they would be able to do much; the Basques' basic level of organization was the family, above which was the gens, which was a group of several families, often united by inter-marriage. Beyond that there was no political unity. So their gens would spread the word of the invasion, but it would be remarkable for the Basques as a whole to unify sufficiently to field an army capable of resisting the Franks. However, they might be able to take steps to avoid mischief, such as by hiding their supplies of grain.

But it was already too late, for one Frankish army was coming
through the mountain pass at Roncevaux, close by the city. They would have to pass right by the column to get home, and that would be mischief. A foreign army was a foreign army, always hungry for food and sex, and hardly choosy about how they obtained them. The supplies Haven and Keeper had just obtained would be the one, and Haven herself would be the other, if they were caught.

“I think you and Keeper had better remain with us,” Flo said. “Until the Franks pass on toward Saragossa. You can pretend to be regular citizens of the city.”

That did seem best. The Franks should merely pass through Pamplona, raiding its supplies, but not having much time to do significant damage. If they laid low, they should be all right.

The Franks arrived a day later. It was a significant army, with tens of thousands of men. The city offered no resistance, pretending instead to welcome the invaders. That way, there should be no burning or killing. Armies were normally less damaging to nominal friends than to outright enemies.

The Franks were led by their King Charles, together with a number of his nobles. They quickly took over the best portion of the city, ousting the occupants or converting them to servants. Jes's husband's estate was pre-empted by one Hruodlandus, the Prefect of Brittany. He wasted no time making his demands known: the very best flesh for his table together with a competent cook, a winsome servant wench for his bed, and an experienced servant man to tend his horses.

All the members of the household were required to present themselves for assignment. Jes's husband Ittai was the first in the line. He spoke Frankish, so the prefect addressed himself to him, not deigning to attempt the local language. Haven did not understand his words, but did not need to. Ittai would translate. As host, it was his duty to make the appropriate assignments. As long as he did a satisfactory job, his house would not be burned and his wife would not be raped.

The prefect was, to Haven's mind, a typical foreign soldier. He had that Frankish look about him despite being worn from rough travel. His leather armor was soiled with sweat and dirt, as was his short
brown beard. He eyed the assembled people coldly and, she thought, with utter disdain. Just because they were civilians. Just because they were not Franks.

There was a brief dialogue in the foreign tongue. Then Ittai turned to Haven. “You and Flo will supervise the kitchen for the prefect.” He turned to Keeper. “You will tend the prefect's animals. I have promised him only the very best personnel and provisions.”

And in so doing, he was protecting both his guests from molestation. Haven appreciated the gesture. Certainly she was competent to cook, and Keeper was more than competent with animals.

The other assignments were made, and then they were dismissed to their various posts. If they needed further instruction, Ittai would see to it personally, so that there would be no need for any directives from any of the prefect's men. That was part of what made it safer.

Haven and Flo went to the kitchen. It was technically Jes's kitchen, but Jes much preferred to be out and around, so it was really Flo's kitchen. Haven loved it; it was completely competent. Flo hardly needed any help, but the prefect hadn't challenged the assignment of the two of them, so it was done.

Ittai appeared. He glanced at Haven. “No offense, but I think you should change your hair style and don dowdier clothing. No sense tempting fate when you deliver the food to the prefect.”

Haven was startled by the oblique compliment. “But what of the bed wench?”

“I haven't found him one yet. The city's fairest girls are all in hiding.”

Oh. “I will change.”

“And say nothing derogatory or personal in the presence of any Frank,” Ittai continued. “Some of them grasp more Iberian than they pretend.”

Fair warning, again. Iberian was a variant of Latin, and the Franks spoke another variant; Italics was another. “And what of Basque?” she asked in that language.

“I think none speak that,” he replied. “But they would immediately suspect your origin if they heard it.”

She changed to one of Flo's outfits, which hung loosely on her, and Flo helped her do her hair so that she looked relatively drab. “But you know,” Flo murmured, “if he grabs you, you can't resist. It would get us all slaughtered.”

Haven swallowed. “I know.” She had had certain experience of this nature. She was married to Harbinger, who was a good man, but he had begun his courtship with a rape. Later another man, Bub, had pursued her, not caring about her marital state, until Rebel had intercepted him. But Rebel was not here in Pamplona.

Flo fixed an excellent platter, and Haven bore it up to the prefect's suite. The prefect had just bathed and changed into a robe for the evening, and looked much improved. In fact he was a handsome man.

“Thank you, woman,” he said in Frankish.

Haven smiled ingratiatingly and backed away.

“No, wait a moment,” he said in bad Iberian. “Your outfit does not do you justice.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, dreading this. She had an eerie feeling of déjà vu, as if she had faced a situation like this before. How had she gotten out of it?