R.W. III - The Dark Design

by Philip José Farmer

  "Very well then. But keep your hands to yourself tonight."

  It was a long time before he fell asleep. Some time in the night he awoke, aware that he had been talking. Alice was sitting up, staring at him.

  Chapter 22

  * * *

  Oskas, half-drunk as usual, visited Burton during lunch hour. Burton did not mind, especially since the chief gave him a skin containing at least two liters of bourbon.

  "Have you heard the rumors of this great white boat which is said to be coming from down-River?" the Indian said.

  "Only a deaf man would not have heard," Burton said, and he took a long pull of the whiskey. It had a winey odor and went down smoothly, needing no dilution with water. But then the grails never delivered anything but the best.

  He said, "Aah!" and then, "I find it hard to believe the stories. From the description, the vessel is propelled by paddlewheels. That would mean that its engines are of iron. I doubt that anyone could gather enough ore to make engines of any size. Also, I have heard that the hull of the boat is made of metal. There's not enough iron in the whole planet to make a vessel that big. If it is as big as the rumors say."

  "You are full of doubts," Oskas said. "That is bad for the liver. However, if the stories are true, then the great boat will be coming along some day. I would like to have such a boat."

  "You and millions more. But if such a boat can be made, then its maker could have iron weapons, perhaps firearms. You have never seen these though you do have some gunpowder bombs. Firearms, however, are metal tubes which can shoot metal projectiles to a great distance. Some of these can fire so fast that a man could not shoot one arrow before he was hit ten times. And then there are cannons. These are giant tubes which shoot large bombs farther than, the mountains."

  "So, you can assume that others have tried to take this boat away from its owners and have died before they could get within arrow range. Besides, what would you do with it if you did get it? It takes highly trained people to operate such a boat."

  "Those could be gotten," Oskas said. "You, for instance. Could you operate it?"

  "Probably."

  "Would you be interested in helping me take it? I would be grateful. You would be first among my subchiefs."

  "I am not a warlike man," Burton said. "Nor am I greedy. However, just for the sake of conversation, let us say that I was interested. Here is what I would do."

  Oskas was fascinated by the intricate but fantastic plan that Burton proposed. When he left he said that he would send Burton more whiskey. They must talk about this some more. Smiling broadly, Oskas staggered away.

  Burton thought the chief was very gullible. He did not mind stringing him along, however. It would keep him happy.

  The truth was that Burton had some plans of his own.

  If the stories were true, then the boat was a means for traveling much faster than by sail. Somehow, he was going to get on it. Not by force but by cunning. The main trouble was that he had no idea as yet how he could accomplish that.

  For one thing, the boat might not, probably would not, stop at this area. For another, it might not have room for more people. Also, why should its captain want to take him and his crew on?

  The rest of the day, he was silent, absorbed in his thoughts. After he had gone to bed, he lay a long time considering every possibility. One of the things he considered was that of going along with Oskas' plan. Then, at the last moment, he could betray him. That might get him into the good graces of the boat's captain.

  He rejected that almost instantly. In the first place, even if Oskas was rapacious and treacherous, he, Burton, would feel dishonored if he deceived him. Secondly, it was inevitable that many of Oskas' people would be killed and wounded. He did not wish to be responsible for that.

  No, there had to be another way.

  Finally, he found it. Its success depended upon stopping the boat or at least getting the attention of those aboard it. How he would do it if it passed during the night, he did not know. Somehow, he would.

  Smiling, he fell asleep.

  Two months passed. In another week, the Snark would be launched. In the meantime, details about the approaching paddle-wheeler had come in piecemeal. These had arrived by drum, smoke, fire, and mica-mirror signals. Putting the items together, Burton had built a picture of the vessel. It was probably larger than any Mississippi riverboat of his time. It was undoubtedly of metal, and it traveled at least 15 miles an hour or a little over 24 kilometers per hour. Sometimes, it had been seen going twice as fast. The calculations were crude, of course, since none of the observers had a stopwatch. But seconds could be counted as it passed from one grailstone to the next.

  Burton had presumed from the first reports that the boat was a steamer. However, later messages said that the vessel seldom took in wood. This was for a boiler which heated water for showers and made steam for machine guns. Burton could not understand how steam propelled bullets. Monat suggested that the weapon used a synchronizing system to drop projectiles into the barrel, through which steam at considerable pressure was shot at regular intervals.

  The motors of the boat used electricity, drawn from a grailstone when it discharged.

  "Then they not only have steel, they have copper for the windings of the electrical motors," Burton said. "Where did they get all that metal?"

  Frigate said, "The boat could be mainly aluminum. And aluminum could be used for the windings, though it's not as efficient as copper."

  More data came in. The vessel bore its name on its sides in big black Roman letters. Rex Grandissimus. Latin for "The Greatest King," that is, greatest in manner or style of life. Its commander, according to informants, was none other than the son of Henry II of England and Eleanor, divorced wife of Louis VII of France, daughter of the Duke of Aquitaine. King John, surnamed Lackland, was the captain. After his famous brother, Richard the Lion-Hearted, had died, John had become Joannes Rex Angliae et Dominus Hiberniae, etc. He had also gained such a bad reputation that there was an unwritten law in the British royalty that no heir to the throne should ever be named John.

  On first learning the captain's name, Burton had gone to Alice. "One of your ancestors commands the paddle wheeler. Perhaps we could appeal to his family affections to get him to take us aboard. Though, from what history said, he did not seem to have much family loyalty. He led a rebellion against his father, and he is said to have murdered his nephew, Arthur, whom Richard had made heir to the crown."

  "He was no worse than any other king of that time," Alice said. "And he did do some good things, despite what people think. He reformed the coinage, he supported development of the Navy, he did all he could to develop trade, he urged the completion of London Bridge. He was also unusual among the monarchs of his time in that he was an intellectual. He read Latin books and French histories in the vernacular, and wherever he went he took his library with him.

  "As for his opposition to the Magna Carta, that has been misrepresented. The barons' revolt was not in the interests of the common people; it was no democratic movement. The barons wanted special privileges for themselves. The freedom for which they fought was the freedom to exploit their subjects without opposition from the king.

  "He fought hard against the barons, and he battled to keep the French provinces under the English crown. But there was no way he could get out of that; he had inherited old conflicts from his father and brother."

  "Well!" Burton said. "You make him sound like a saint."

  "He was far from that. He was also far more interested in England itself, the welfare of its people, than any previous Anglo-Norman king."

  "You must have done much reading and thinking about him. Your opinions go against the grain of everything I've read."

  "I had much time to read when I lived in Cuffnells. And I form my own opinions."

  "Bully for you. Nevertheless, the fact remains that somehow this medieval monarch has gotten control of the greatest artifact, the most superb machine, on this world. I
can deal with him when I get to him. The problem is, how do I do it?"

  "You mean, how do we do it?"

  "Right. My apologies. Well, we shall see."

  The Snark was let down the ways into The River amid much cheering and drinking. Burton was not as happy as he should have been. He had lost interest in it.

  During the festivities, Oskas took him aside.

  "You don't intend to leave soon, I hope? I am counting on you to help me take the great boat."

  Burton felt like telling him to go to hell. That would, however, not be diplomatic, since the chief might decide to confiscate the Snark for himself. Worse, he might quit resisting the temptation to take Loghu to his bed. During the year he had given her some trouble, though he had made no violent moves. Whenever he got very drunk, which was often, he had openly asked her to move in with him.

  There had been many uneasy moments when it looked as if he was going to take her by force. Frigate, whose nature was anything but belligerent, had intended to challenge him to a duel, though he thought that it was a stupid way to solve a problem. But honor demanded it, manhood demanded it, there was no other way out unless he and Loghu sneaked away some night. He would not leave the people with whom he had been so intimate so many years.

  Loghu had told him, "No, you will not get killed or kill that savage and so arouse his people to kill you. Leave it to me."

  Loghu had men astonished everybody, Oskas most of all, by challenging him to a fight to the death.

  After recovering from the shock, Oskas had roared with laughter. "What? I should fight a woman? I beat my wives when they anger me, but I would not fight one. If I were to do this, it would not matter that I would kill you easily. I would be laughed at; I would no longer be Oskas, The Bear Claw, I would be The Man Who Fought a Woman."

  "What will it be?" Loghu had said. "Tomahawk? Spear? Knife? Or bare hands? You have seen me in the contests. You know how good I am with all weapons. It is true that you are bigger and stronger, but I know many tricks you don't. I've had some of the best instructors in the world."

  What she did not mention was that he was very intoxicated, very fat, and very much out of condition.

  Had it been a man who talked to him like that, Oskas would have leaped upon him. Drunk as he was, he knew that he was in a quandary. If he killed this woman, he would be a public jest. If he didn't accept the challenge, he would be said to be afraid of her.

  Monat, smiling, stepped forward. "Chief, Loghu is my very good friend. I am also a friend of yours. Why don't we drop this matter? After all, it is the drink that is speaking in you, not you yourself, Oskas, the chief, a mighty warrior on Earth and along The River. No one can blame you for refusing to fight a woman.

  "However, it is not right that you should bother another man's woman. You would not do it if you were not full of whiskey. So, I say that from now on you must not treat this woman with anything but the respect you demand from other men toward your women.

  "Now, as Burton has told you, I was once a great magician. I still have some powers left, and I will not hesitate to use them if you harm Loghu. I would do so reluctantly, since I have great respect for you. But I will if I have to."

  Oskas turned pale beneath the dark skin and the flush of whiskey-heated blood. He said, "Yes, it must be the drink. No one can blame me for what I do when I am drunk."

  No more was said that night, and the next day Oskas claimed to have been so intoxicated he did not remember anything about the party.

  For several months, he had been cool though polite to Loghu. Lately, he had resumed making remarks to her, though he had not touched her. This may have been because Loghu had told him, in private so that he would not lose face, that she would slice open his belly if he so much as laid a hand on her. Following which, she would crush his testicles.

  She reported that he had only laughed at her. Despite which, he was aware that, given a chance, she could do just what she said. Nevertheless, Oskas had a compulsive passion for her. Now that the time was drawing close for her to leave, he was again after her.

  Burton, talking to him now, kept this in mind. It wouldn't do to have him think that he had little time left to get Loghu into his bed.

  "No, we are not leaving. We will follow the plan that I have worked out for you, and I and my people will be among the vanguard when we seize the boat.

  "However, as you know, it is essential that we get to the boat when it has stopped to draw lightning from a stone. If it's moving we have no chance. Now, I have calculated the area where the boat will stop nearest to this place. I can't pinpoint it. But I can say within four or five grailstones where it will stop in the evening.

  "Our boat needs a shakedown cruise. I propose to take it on one tomorrow. I'll sail down to the place where the great boat will stop, and I'll look over the situation. We need to know the lay of the land if we are to attack the mighty vessel with any chance of success.

  "Would you like to come along?"

  Oskas had been looking at him narrow-eyed. Now his face cleared, and he smiled.

  "Of course I will go along. I do not blunder blind into a battle.''

  That took care of Oskas' unvoiced suspicion that the Snark would not return from the cruise. Even so, he stationed four men in a hut nearby to keep an eye on the boat, though he said nothing of it to Burton. That night, the entire crew sneaked out through the fog to the hills. There they retrieved the free-grails from a hole in the base of the mountain and brought them back to the boat. These were put in a hiding place behind what looked like a solidly secured bulkhead.

  The next day, after breakfast, Oskas came aboard with seven of his best warriors. They crowded the vessel, but Burton did not complain. He began passing out lichen-alcohol flavored with ground irontree leaves. His crew had orders to be very abstemious. By mid-afternoon, the chief and his men were loud-mouthed, laughing drunks. Even their lunch had not been enough to sober them to any extent. Burton kept pressing his guests with drinks. About an hour before they were to stop for dinner, the Indians were staggering around or lying on deck asleep.

  It was easy to push the still conscious ones into the water and then throw the unconscious after them. Fortunately, the shock of the water woke up the latter. Otherwise, Burton would have felt compelled to pick them up and take them ashore.

  Oskas, treading water, shook his fist at them and raved in Menomini and Esperanto. Laughing, Burton bent his thumb and all except the middle finger and jerked his hand upward. Then he held out his hand with the first and fourth fingers extended, the ancient sign of the "evil eye," a sign that in modern times had come to mean "bullshit."

  Oskas became even more violent and colorful in his description of the many ways he would get revenge.

  Kazz, grinning, threw the chief's grail to him so accurately that it struck him on the head. The warriors had to dive down after him. When they brought him up, two were forced to support him until he could regain consciousness.

  Kazz thought that putting a lump on Oskas' head was very funny.

  He would have considered it to be even a better joke if the chief had drowned. Yet, among his crewmates, he was as sociable, tender, and compassionate a man as anyone could ask for. He was a primitive, and all primitives, civilized or preliterate, were tribal people. Only the tribe consisted of human beings and were treated as such. All outside the tribe, though some might be considered friends, were not quite human. Therefore, they did not have to be treated as if they were completely human.

  Though the Neanderthal had lost his tribe on Earth, he had regained it in the crew of the Snark. This was his family, his tribe.

  Chapter 23

  * * *

  The Snark did not stop where Burton had told Oskas it would wait for the paddlewheeler. It would have been foolish to do so. Oskas could have made his way back quickly to his territory by renting or stealing a boat. He would then return with many warriors before the arrival of the Rex Grandissimus.

  The cutter sailed on past the
designated stop and continued down-River for two days. Meanwhile, its crew saw and heard messages sent by Oskas via heliograph, fire and smoke signals, and drum. The chief claimed that Burton's party had stolen cigarettes and booze from him and then had kidnapped him. Oskas offered a reward to anyone who would seize and hold the "criminals" until he could arrive to take them into custody.

  Burton had to act quickly to counteract this, though it was doubtful that any authorities of the small states would arrest the crew of the Snark. Oskas was not popular because of the troubles he had given them over the years. However, individuals might organize privateering groups.

  Burton went ashore with a box of tobacco and liquor and some oak rings. With these he paid the head of the local branch of the signal company to send out a message for him. This was that Oskas lied, and the truth was that the chief had wanted to take a female crew member by force and so she and her companions had been compelled to flee. Oskas had pursued them but his warcanoe had been sunk when he had tried to board the Snark.

  Burton then added that he knew that the chief and his councillors had a great treasure, a hoard of free-grails numbering at least a hundred.

  This was a lie, since Oskas, when drunk, had told Burton that the headmen only had twenty. Burton did not mind stretching the truth. Attention would now be diverted from him to the chief. His people would hear this, and they would be raising hell about it. Undoubtedly, they would demand that the proceeds of the free-grails be added to the communal stockpile. Also, Oskas would now have to worry about thieves. Not only would these be of his own people, but many from other states would be planning how they could steal the grails.

  Oskas was going to be too busy to worry about revenge.

  Burton chuckled as he thought about this.