The Texts Of Festival (13 page)

‘You aren’t going anywhere, Starkweather. You’re staying right here, under arrest until the emergency’s over. Then we’ll examine the question of treason.’

12.

As the sun dispersed the early morning mists around Afghan Promise the town started swarming with activity. Smoke of cooking fires rose into the clear air and the smell of food and wood smoke drifted through the streets. Gangs of prisoners dismantled buildings, constructed barricades and dug trenches under the watchful eye of armed guards.

Oltha moved through the camp, supervising the work and exchanging greetings with his men. He looked pleased as he paused to accept a jug of beer from one of the women. The work had started well; if it continued at the same rate the whole town would be ringed by a system of trenches and barricades by sunset. The highway would be blocked at each end of the town by a wall of rubble that left only two narrow entrances, just wide enough for a wagon to pass.

He returned the jug and continued his inspection, munching on an oatcake. He stopped to watch a gang of sweating prisoners breaking up one of the bars on the strip. More prisoners were loading debris onto an open wagon and Oltha walked over to the two guards sitting on the driver’s bench.

‘Greetings this new day.’

‘Greetings chief.’

‘No trouble from prisoners?’

‘No trouble. They work, we watch. They know if they run we kill.’

Oltha nodded.

‘Seen you Iggy this day?’

‘No chief, we not seen him.’

Oltha walked on. Iggy would appear eventually.

Nath waited outside the Shirrif’s House, hoping that Iggy would soon emerge. In a little while the door was pushed open and Iggy came out onto the porch, scratching his head and blinking at the light. Winston followed him out and Nath watched as they talked for a while; then Winston hurried off down the street, and Iggy yawned and sat down on the steps.

Nath walked over to Iggy, trying to make the meeting look like a matter of chance. He knew Oltha was suspicious of tribesmen who spent too much time around Iggy and his men.

As he approached, Iggy looked up.

‘Hi, kid.’

‘Greetings Iggy.’

‘You look kinda nervous, whassamatta boy?’

‘I wondered … you have crystal?’

Iggy chuckled.

‘Gettin’ t’ like crystal, are you?’

‘I feel bad, lately. Crystal make me feel good.’

‘Sure kid, make you feel alri’, an’ now you want some more, huh?’

‘Yeah.’

‘An’ what if I don’t have any?’

Nath said nothing but his eyes shifted dangerously. Iggy laughed.

‘Okay, okay. You’ll get your crystal, only remember one thing, ri’?’

‘What?’

‘You get this stuff off of me. Your fine ol’ chief don’ give you tasty treats like this. You jus’ remember that fac’, you hear?’

‘I remember.’

‘Okay.’

Iggy stood up and disappeared into the house. After a few moments he returned with a small box which he handed to Nath.

‘There y’ go, kid, an’ don’ forget what I said. Okay?’

After Iggy had left the building Elly-May stared out of the window for a while. Then Anna found a jug of wine and they shared it.

Eventually the discussion could not be put off any longer. It was Anna who voiced it.

‘So whadda we do now?’

Elly-May shook her head.

‘Dunno, we got outta the lineup but I ain’t got a clue what happens now. Maybe we should just stay here.’

‘Iggy’s gonna get bored with us sooner or later. Unless he wastes us for fun first.’

‘He’s sure weird. I thought he was gonna kill me a coupla times last night.’

‘He’s a pervy little mutha, that’s for sure.’

‘He’s pretty, though.’

‘Shit Elly-May, you let any john with a face half kill you?’

‘No, but it got you outta trouble, didn’ it?’

‘Sure, but I ain’t too hot for many repeats of last night. Winston ain’t too bad but one session with that Iggy nearly done me head in. I heard you screamin’ an’ all.’

Elly-May blushed and stared at the floor.

‘Okay, so whadda we do?’

‘I guess the first thing we do is take a walk outside.’

‘An’ get jumped by a team of horny tribesmen?’

‘We can’t stay here for ever.’

‘I guess you’re right.’

Across from the Shirrif’s House some tribesmen were unloading sacks of grain from a wagon. They looked up as the two women came out of the house but otherwise took no notice. Elly-May relaxed slightly; maybe they would be regarded as Iggy’s property and no one would interfere with them.

Her high-heeled boots kicked up tiny puffs of dust as the two of them walked slowly down the hot street, expecting to be stopped at any moment. As they passed more outlaws who looked at them without comment, Elly-May began to feel a lot safer.

At the end of the street a team of prisoners, stripped to the waist in the hot sun, was building a barricade and it was obvious that the women could go no further in that particular direction. They turned into a side alley and started walking in the direction of the stream that ran along the back of the strip.

At the bank they halted and watched more prisoners up to their waists in water, driving long sharpened stakes into the stream bed. Further upstream women passed backwards and forwards with earthenware pitchers of water. As they came closer Elly-May realised that the women were divided into two distinct groups. Those carrying the water were naked except for strips of rag round their hips, while a second group, wearing homespun dresses and sandals, stood and watched clutching sticks and cudgels.

Elly-May recognised some of the women carrying water as girls from the strip. Bruises, weals and scratches on their bodies gave ample evidence of recent mistreatment. So that was what happened to the survivors of a night left to the disposal of the tribesmen.

She shuddered and clutched Anna’s arm.

‘Those are chicks from the strip!’

‘Yeah, I know.’

‘But look at the condition they’re in. That coulda happened to us.’

‘They’re the lucky ones.’

‘What happened to the rest?’

‘I don’ wanna think, I heard of girls tied across tables an’ left for anyone t’ use — an’ worse.’

‘Shit!’

Anna stopped talking as they came to the line of women. She and Elly-May, in their provocative outfits, contrasted sharply with the rags and homespun dresses of the others.

One of the women struggling under a water pitcher stared hard from behind sweat-matted hair at Anna and Elly-May.

‘Dirty slags, safe with yer fancy men while we were out there bein’ torn up by those swine.’

Elly-May started; it was Lucille, a big, full-bodied girl from the Hyacinth House.

‘Lucille, there was nothin’…’

‘Don’t talk to me you bitch.’

Lucille lunged at Elly-May but one of the tribeswomen swung her stick, knocking Lucille to the ground. Three of them gathered round and kicked her back into the water line. They shot Anna and Elly-May hostile glances but said nothing.

For a time Iggy busied himself moving around the town, checking the construction work and talking with his men. He noted the increased tension in his conversations with Oltha. The chief, he guessed, had a suspicion that Iggy was up to something with Nath and the other tribesmen whom he was turning on to crystal. It was possible to avoid Oltha for the most part, using Winston as a go-between. For a while he pondered the problem that sooner or later the chief would realise how Iggy was stringing out his men; then there would have to be a confrontation. He dismissed the thought from his mind; by the time the confrontation came a solution would present itself.

Iggy walked to the edge of the town and watched the construction of the barricades across the wide highway; then he strolled on a little way beyond the barricades to the start of open country. For a while he stared back at the growing defences. It was his town; he had come in from the hills; he was someone; he ruled his own town just like any lord. He turned, squinting against the sun reflected from the hot paving, and gazed down the highway in the direction of Festival.

One more week and his army would go down that road and then Festival would fall. The lands of the south would be his: the greatest territory that any man had held since the disaster. The years of running, of killings in the dark, of looting for a few meals and a bag of crystal were over for good. He was about to become a legend, far greater than Joe Starkweather or the Festival lords, greater even than Rooney the Crow or the half-mythical Ogoth. He would become the witch king of all the south, with power to rival even the fabled Djeggar.

His thoughts were cut short by the noise of the puller, across on the other side of the highway, dragging a felled tree towards the barricade. Its iron wheels rumbled on the pavings and high in the driver’s cab he could make out the figure of Banana, stripped to the waist, hauling on the steering rods. He raised a hand to Iggy who returned his greeting.

Iggy slowly walked back towards the town, confident that with all he had going for him it would take more than Valentine and his half-assed soldier boys to stop him.

Elly-May and Anna hurried away from the women beside the stream. Since it was unlikely that they would be allowed past the barricades they headed back towards the strip.

As they turned into the strip, out of one of the number of alleys that ran back at right angles cutting through Afghan Promise’s shack town, they almost walked into Iggy, standing talking with one of the tribesmen.

He looked up as they approached.

‘Where do you think you two are goin’?’

They halted.

‘Nowhere, Iggy.’

Elly-May looked nervously at Anna, but even her partner’s solid confidence seemed to have drained away.

Iggy surveyed them coldly.

‘Whaddaya mean, nowhere?’

‘We jus’ wen’ walkin’ tha’s all, we didn’ mean no harm by it.’

‘Walkin’?’

‘That’s all, ’onest.’

‘Got bored sittin’ inna house, huh?’

Elly-May took a chance and smiled.

‘Tha’s ri’.’

Iggy leered.

‘Too much energy maybe?’

Elly-May kept up the cheerful, sexy pose.

‘You oughta know?’

Suddenly Iggy hardened again.

‘What am I s’posed to know, babe? I don’t wanna know nothin’ ’bout you. All I know is that this is an army an’ no rest home fer hookers, an’ if you all so full of energy you better get somethin’ to get behind doin’, ri’?’

He swung round and yelled at two tribesmen who hurried over. Iggy pointed at the two women.

‘Take these broads down your camp an’ tell your women t’ find ’em some work. Got it?’

The tribesmen nodded and Iggy walked off. One of them grasped Elly-May by the shoulder and pushed her down the street.

‘Move!’

Numbly Elly-May and Anna walked in front of the two men, towards where Oltha’s tribe had set up camp. Dimly they listened as the outlaws gave instructions to the head-woman. After they had gone the women gathered round grinning and jeering, their hands reaching out to grab Anna’s and Elly-May’s good clothes.

13.

It was mid-morning and the Last Chance had rarely been so crowded at that time of day. It was not only the regular faces from the Drag, but labouring men and beggars from Shacktown and the North side. Although some were drinking and smoking pipes, the atmosphere was grim. For an hour people had been asking the same question: Where was Starkweather?

‘I tell you, he’s sold us out!’

A labouring man pounded his great calloused fist on the table.

‘He conned you all into goin’ quietly, he ain’ gonna get us no guns.’

Frankie Lee turned on the man.

‘Joe Starkweather’s never let us down before; I don’t reckon he’s about t’ start neither.’

The Last Chance regulars chorused agreement, but a beggar from Shacktown rounded on them.

‘Yeah, if he’s so much with us, how come he ain’t here? You bar-flies got an answer for tha’?’

Frankie Lee said nothing; there was no denying that Starkweather hadn’t kept his promise to show. Any excuse would only sound lame.

‘Can’t answer, huh? Mebbe yer precious Joe ain’t so into th’ people as he pretends.’

The Shacktown men began to mutter angrily.

Then the room fell silent as the swing doors banged and two soldiers in the lord’s colours came into the bar and provided a focus for the rising hostility in the bar. One of Madame Lou’s girls broke the tension slightly when, feet apart and hands on hips, she planted herself in front of the soldiers.

‘Lookee, the brave solja boys ’ave come to protect us po’ folks!’

The crowd guffawed but continued to edge forward, surrounding the two men in black surcoats. Harry Krishna pushed to the front, waving his arms.

‘Hold it! Hold it! These boys are okay, it’s Luther an’ Mose, come in here alla time. Let’s hear wha’ they gotta say.’

The crowd fell silent and Luther scanned the still hostile faces.

‘We ain’t s’posed to rightly be here, but we split from the Gate detail to tell yous what happened. It’s about Joe Starkweather.’

A murmur ran through the crowd.

‘We heard you was waitin’ for him to come here an’ we came t’ tell you, well, he ain’t a-comin’.’

There were gasps and shouts of ‘Tol’ yer!’ and ‘Copout!’ from the Shacktown men but Luther raised his hands and carried on.

‘Lissen, yous got it wrong, it ain’t Joe’s fault he ain’t here. The lord had him arrested. He’s locked in the palace under guard.’

Confusion reigned as everyone tried to talk at once. The big Shacktowner yelled:

‘Lissen, it’s a con, Starkweather ain’t been busted.’

The crowd shouted him down and, finding no support even from his partners, he then kept quiet. Luther started to look edgy.

‘Lissen yous guys, me an’ Mose gotta get on back to th’ Gate, but we ain’t kiddin’. The lord’s got Starkweather locked up inna palace.’

They turned to leave but Frankie Lee stopped them.

‘What the fug’s Valentine busted Joe for? He’s about the only guy who could save the city. He gotta be insane.’

Luther looked round grimly.

‘Sure he’s insane. Joe wanted to organise you folks t’ fight the outlaws, an’ it’s the lord wen’ apeshit at the idea of you folk bein’ give guns an’ had Joe busted. Tha’s all I know, so we gotta split.’