by Unknown
“I am going to send out an advisory to all the Duns. We now have intelligence about Hood River. Though the Portland Protective Association took it over, for once the people of Hood River are actually grateful to them for this.”
That brought another murmur, this time of surprise. The PPA’s Lord Protector was, at the very least, a psychopath, though a very able and surprisingly farsighted one; his followers ranged from extremely hard men to outright thugs. But there were times when people would accept the hardest hand if it meant life and peace enough to sow and reap, and the Association was trying very hard indeed to get agriculture going again in its territories. Nor did they tolerate outlaw raiders …
If only because it’s competition, she thought mordantly, and went on:
“They had a homegrown bandit problem, a very bad one. Any Dun that took in Hood River people over the period from March through late April will need to look carefully at them. They may be the bandits themselves, the ones Renfrew didn’t hang or behead. I suspect that is the case here.
“To continue. Debbie’s weregeld sheet states that she arrived with the titles to seventy acres outside of Lebanon and another hundred acres up by Silverton. This she handed over to the Clan in November when the Kyklos asked for free title to the lands they took possession of in September. We received a large consignment of goods in return for that and several other property titles. Debbie is credited with a proportional value of that shipment. Debbie is a hard worker, very community minded, and easy to get along with. She has been learning a number of skills for our Changed world, caring for dairy cattle, butter-making and cheese-making, and sewing and preserving food as well as the standard tasks.”
Juniper folded her hands over the papers and looked into the insolent hazel eyes of the gagged man before her.
“Before I say anything about this particular case, I have something to say that will be sent to all the Clan territories. Dun Carson failed to protect Debbie Meijer.”
She paused, to allow Eilir to catch up and to control herself. She caught Brian and then Rebekah’s eyes. They dropped theirs and flushed with shame.
“Harassment, bullying, tormenting, destructive teasing … none of these are acceptable behaviors in a world where everybody depends on everybody else and nobody can move away. Children are taught by admonishment and example because they know no better. But adults are expected to listen and understand and conform. Chronic problems must not be allowed to fester. We of the Clan must be able to trust each other; our lives depend upon it.”
Juniper drummed her fingers on the table and scowled into the sneering face of the gagged man. “Billy Bob brought up the legality of our actions. I will address this point first.”
She felt an angry satisfaction to see how he hated that she spoke of him by the nicknames he’d used back when he’d arrived in Clan Mackenzie territory.
“Clan Mackenzie is a sovereign state. We are neither bound by nor follow the legal system of the old United States of America, which is utterly unsuited to this world we find ourselves in. Therefore, Mr. Peers, you are not in Kansas anymore, and we will not allow you to try legal quibbles or time-wasting efforts to negotiate yourself out of your just deserts, no, that we will not!
“Now is the time when you will speak. When I tell you to not speak anymore, you will close your mouth and not speak anymore. When I ask you a question, you will answer it directly. You will not speak other than to answer the questions I put to you until I give you leave to speak freely.
“Do you understand?”
She saw the sly look in his eyes as he nodded and nodded herself in turn.
“Do you agree to only answer the questions put to you and to be silent when ordered?”
The way his teeth showed reassured her that she was reading the situation well. He nodded, slowly, as if he were forcing his head to move against rigid sinews.
“The gag will be used, if necessary. Be warned that attempts to blame your victim will be met with gagging. Rape is an offense against the Goddess Herself and an insult to the Horned Lord, Her consort and lover. It is a vile mockery of the Great Rite by which They made and maintain the world and to let it go unpunished would be to risk Their anger.
“We have religious freedom here; you are being punished for your crime against Debbie Meijer, not against the Powers who make and shape the world, whatever else we mean by it. However, insulting our morals is blasphemy and will be met with severe penalties. And you … well, you are a rapist.”
She nodded to Alex, who unstrapped the gag device. Billy Bob spit out the tongue depressor and drew in a breath … and froze as his eyes met hers. She held them until he let go of the breath and slumped slightly.
“Better,” she approved. “Did you rape Debbie Meijer?”
Once again he drew in a breath and met her eyes … and hesitated.
“You can’t prove it!” he challenged.
“Why not? Are you sure nobody saw you?”
“Of course … nobody saw me. I wasn’t there!” Juniper grimaced wryly.
Good recovery, she thought. Not going to get him on a Perry Mason.
Juniper nodded. “We do not depend on people seeing you. Proof, as you call it, is a matter of belief. Everybody in the Dun’s Óenach believes you did what you are accused of, based on observations and tracking of movements and knowledge of who and what you are. Your guilt has been established to the satisfaction of the Dun, and I have accepted it.
“Debbie’s unsupported word and the state of her body are enough to prove to us she has been raped. Her struggle with your continual harassment is enough to condemn you in the eyes of the community. The mark of your ring on her body in three places is also very telling. Keep in mind that I was not asked to come and decide if you were guilty. That was established yesterday afternoon when you were locked up and Judy Barstow Mackenzie made her examination of Debbie. You are the man who raped her. My task is to determine what to do with you.
“In Clan Mackenzie our guiding principle is the weregeld principal, of compensation. For injury to property or failure to do your share you may be fined labor or goods for the waste you caused. For repeated offenses, expulsion by the vote of the community.
“For injury—which can cover malicious gossip, physical assault, and damage to a persons’ property or animals—the only question is how dangerous the perpetrator is. We have a responsibility. We cannot turn a dangerous person out to the world if we reasonably believe that he or she will injure another person.
“For murder. The circumstances of the cause of death must be reviewed by a coroner appointed by the Dun’s Ollam and the decision will rest upon those findings and the conclusion with the Ollam and the Óenach.”
She could see that Billy Bob was relaxing. He shrugged. After a few seconds’ thought, she nodded at him. “I have reached my decision. Do you have any final words to say?”
“Sure!” he said, sitting up again. “Gimme my bike, load the saddlebags with enough food, and I’ll be gone north before the door hits the back wheel!”
The members of Dun Carson stirred, anger on many faces; a few shouted wordlessly in rage or denial. Juniper let them settle down; Billy Bob started to twist, but Sam was still holding his shoulder and he could no more break that hold than he could the steel grip of a vise.
“As far as the Dun is concerned, you have not managed to work enough to justify your keep in the four months you have been here. You came with nothing but an old bike, which has been, since, broken up for repair parts.”
“Fuck!” yelled Billy Bob. “That was my bike and you owe me!”
“No,” said Juniper. “You owe the Clan four months’ room and board. Room is assessed at a pint of wheat a day and board at three pints of wheat a day. For one hundred and twenty-six days, total. This is a little more than five bushels of wheat.”
“You’re crazy!” he said, staring at her. “Where’m I going to get wheat?”
“From the sweat of your brow!” said Brian, anger clot
ting his voice.
Billy Bob swung around but Juniper spoke; her voice diamond edged. “Stop. That is moot; infliction of injury trumps all else.”
There was silence before she went on: “Does anybody from the Óenach have anything to say about the potential of Billy Bob raping another woman if he is expelled?”
One of the older children—eóghann, she reminded herself—raised a hand. “May I speak?” he asked. Juniper frowned as the boy’s mother reached out a hand and then drew it back.
“Yes. You have a voice, but not a vote.”
“He … yesterday—early; and before, he used to work next to me. I tried to get changed around, but Brian said that it would hurt morale and I should be able to ignore him. But he always talked; he’d say really ugly things about Debbie. He was always talking about her. Sometimes he talked about other women, not from here, and not all from Hood River. He’d laugh and chuckle … like it was as much … fun … to talk about it to me, yelling at him to shut up, as it was to do the gross things he told me about.”
Juniper didn’t put her head down on the table, or scream, or dance with rage. But the impulse was surely there.
“Does anybody else have a similar story?”
She winced, and so did the Óenach. All the raised hands were of the eóghann and a sprinkling went up in the children’s section.
Brian’s red face went white and his arm went around Rebekah. Their thirteen-year-old daughter’s hand was waving in the air. Juniper counted.
“Failure to properly address the issue has left your children vulnerable to a rapist. And he took advantage of your carelessness. Nine eóghann and three children have been molested, physically or verbally.
“Before I proceed, Dun Carson Óenach, your Ollam have failed you. Do you wish to vote in a new Ollam?”
The Óenach seethed as people turned and spoke with each other. Cynthia and Ray stood close to their mother, all three crying. Rebekah and Brian had opened their arms for Sara, who came running to them, tears flying off her cheeks.
“You told Debbie to not make too many waves or provoke him …”
Eilir turned with her pen poised and her face grim.
What a can of worms, oh mother-mine. Juniper nodded. I keep thinking we’ve understood the Change and all the little Changes. But it keeps biting us in the butt.
A man stood up, looking around at the rest of the Óenach and twisting his cap in his hands. Nods and encouraging hand waves pushed him forward:
“I’m Josh Heathrow. I kind’a called myself a pagan before the Change. Accepting the Goddess was easy for me; but I haven’t really wanted to go for the full priesthood. Still, the Óenach asked me to speak for all of them. And the bottom line is, we don’t think any of us could have done better. And it sucks to kick somebody out to starve … or get taken by Eaters … and that’s what it would be. But … things have changed. We’ve got to work with that, and it isn’t easy getting our heads around it.
“Once something physical actually happened, Brian did something about it; quick too. I guess we all feel that this is one of those lessons and we need to make real sure we don’t do it again. But, nobody seems to want the Carsons booted out. They’re all good folk and pretty conscientious, and this was their land, for generations. Uh, maybe the fields, you know, wouldn’t like it if we changed that.”
He looked around and abruptly sat again. Juniper had been scanning the faces as he spoke.
“There is consensus, then?” she asked.
“Aye!”
“Very well. Brian, you and Rebekah will have to come to the Hall. I expect that I will come here, as well. We’ll take time to examine different situations and possible strategies. Sharon, Cynthia, and Ray will spend extra hours with Judy, reviewing their soon-to-be responsibilities.
“Having done that, I pronounce the sentence.”
“Hey! Wait! I ain’t been found guilty yet … or convicted!”
Peer’s eyes bulged with the sudden terror of illusions pierced at last.
“Didn’t you hear me tell you I was not brought to judge your guilt? I am here to pronounce your doom.”
Billy Bob started up, screaming obscenities and denials, and Sam forced the gag back in his mouth. A swift kick to the back of the leg put him on his knees, whooping air in and out through his nose, and the armsman gripped him by a handful of hair.
Juniper stood and raised her staff again: “Hear the word of the Ollam Brithem of Clan Mackenzie!”
Silence fell, except for the slobbering panting of the gagged man and the far-off nicker of a horse:
“Dun Carson will accept two trained priestesses and a priest into the Dun to help those wounded in their hearts by this man’s deeds. These will not be members of the Dun, but will work, as we all do.
“Debbie has six months to decide if she wishes to stay with Dun Carson, join another Dun, or lead a group north to reclaim her land near Lebanon, becoming an Ollam chief in her turn. Should she leave Dun Carson, Dun Carson shall dower her with goods equivalent to her hard work as set forward by Brian Carson in this sheet. Dun Juniper will give her support against the amount her surrender of the title to the acres in Silverton has given the Clan. Dun Carson will add a weregeld of an extra one-fifth for allowing her to suffer sexual harassment for four months, and will make formal apology.”
Juniper stood and took the spear from Chuck. She pointed it at the prone body of Billy Bob, and the light flashed off it, flickering in the graven Ogham characters.
“This man is a mad dog. He attacks the young, and destroys the reputation of his victims as well as their honor and integrity. Expelling him will not protect us from him. He could return at any moment, hide and attack us and ours by stealth, knowing our defenses. Or he would find and prey on others. We must remove him from the circle of the world, for we are responsible. We found him in our nest, on our land, despoiling our people. Last night I and my advisors discussed the possible permutations. We have established a ritual and will deliver death through it. Let the Guardians of the Northern Gate judge him; let him make amends and come to know himself in the Land of Summer.
“Death is a dread thing and all of us have found ourselves over the past year confronted by death and the fear of death. I killed a man scant hours after the Change, saving another. But we must not let ourselves become calloused by it, nor shut it away and out of our minds. And so Dun Carson will carry out the sentence. We will not hide from ourselves what we have decided to do, nor let another bear the burden.”
Billy kicked and tried to spasm himself upright. His scream was blurred, but he struggled until the hair began to tear out by the roots.
Sam thoughtfully backheeled him in the stomach. “Oi’d give it a rest, if Oi was you, mate. It’ll hurt more, else.”
Chuck lifted up a pot.
“There are fifty-three marbles in this urn. Six green ones, four red ones, a black one, and forty-two blue ones. Each adult will take a marble. The six people who pick a green marble will dig the grave, six feet down, by six feet long by three feet wide.”
He pointed to the unoccupied northeastern corner of the crossroads, where three shovels stood driven into the sod.
“The four red marbles are for the four people who will escort him to his place of execution and hold him there. The black marble is for the executioner. Everybody over sixteen will witness. Parents may allow children from fourteen to sixteen to be present.
“The youngsters are to return to the Dun, out of the sight and sound of the execution.”
Billy Bob’s body bucked, thrashing. A stink suddenly filled the air as his bowels loosed and he fainted. Judy gestured forward some of the witnesses from the other Duns. They stripped the unconscious man, wiped him down with rags, and put an old polyester bathrobe on him, grimacing in distaste.
Sam Aylward snorted. “Oi’d have made ’im dig it ’isself,” he observed mildly.
The pot passed around the Óenach; some snatched at the marbles, some hesitated, some held thei
rs up, and others looked at it in their palm before opening their fingers. One or two sobbed with relief when their marble was blue. Gradually six people walked over to the shovels and began to lay out the grave and dig, using tarps to heap up the soil. Four people, three men and a woman, came to stand over the prone man. Then a sound burst across the pavilion and a woman Juniper did not know walked up to the man and opened her hand. The black marble fell on his shirt.
“Fitting,” said Brian. “She’s been trying to make us do something about the man. And threatening to do it herself.”
Juniper grimaced. “Well, unless she’s a stone-cold killer, she’s going to learn precisely the lesson I want to teach the entire Dun and the moiety of Clan Mackenzie, about paying and punishment.”
“Lady,” said Brian. “Sarah’s only thirteen, but she wants to stay … and Rebekah and I think she should.”
Juniper was reaching for Rudy, shifting her blouse and plaid so that she could nurse the cranky baby. She hesitated, focused on getting Rudy latched on; not that that generally took much, but she usually didn’t nurse him under a shawl.
What are we going to do when nursing bras fall apart? Stays … ugh!
As Rudy began to feed she met Sarah’s eyes. “Why?” she asked simply.
The girl looked ready to cry and angry at the same time. “He … he threatened to kill me. Said … well, said he’d killed Bunny FooFoo and he’d do me just like that.”
The girl looked sick and Juniper had to force herself to lift a brow at Brian. The heavyset man shook his head gloomily.
“You know, Lady. I wasn’t one for your religion. But it seems like I’ve got an almighty clout upside the head for being careless.