Vault of the Ages

by Poul Anderson

  The boy tried to relax. He was bathed, fed and rested. His wounds were bandaged, and Ralph had sent clean garments for him and his companions. He could do nothing just now. But excitement thrummed high in him; he strained and quivered with it. This was more than his own life. Perhaps the future of the world would be settled today.

  A gong boomed, once, twice, thrice. Slowly the talk died away and was replaced by a breathless, waiting silence.

  Ralph and Donn went through the old ritual of opening a Council. They avoided each other’s eyes. Then the Chief stepped forth. His tones rang deep and clear.

  “I am supposed to preside over this, as all meetings,” he said. “But a judge may not take sides, and I think you all know that my own feelings are too deeply caught here. Therefore, I shall turn the Council over to Wellan, chief of the elders, and speak only as a tribesman.” He unbuckled the sword of justice and handed it gravely to the white-headed old man seated at his right.

  Owl hissed furiously, “He’s betraying us! As Chief, he could at least swing things to save our lives. He’s too law-abiding!”

  “No, you fool,” muttered Tom. “This way is better. As Chief he could not even try to change whatever is going to happen, or people would know and howl him down. Under the law, he has no power to do more than preside. But as a tribesman, he can speak freely —and people will still know he’s the real Chief and listen more closely to him than to others.” He smiled. “Carl, your father may be upright, but he’s not stupid either!”

  “We are met to try three for breaking taboo,” came old Wellan’s reedy voice. “I am told that this is also a meeting to decide if the taboo is not to be lifted. Let the accuser speak.”

  Donn rose to his feet and walked to the front of the stage. His eyes smoldered over the Council, and when he spoke it was slowly and sorrowfully.

  “This is a heavy thing for me,” he began. “I must turn on a family whose members have been my lifelong friends and helpers. I must call for the death of three promising youths who sought only to aid their tribe in this terrible war. The hand of the gods lies grimly on me.

  “But a Doctor’s path is stern. He is sworn to forget not only himself, but all others, in serving the gods and the tribe. I have myself, in my younger days, closed my ears to the screaming of poor children from whom I pulled an infected tooth or cut a devouring growth. Yet afterward they lived because of what I had done, and thanked me for it. Now I must again hurt that I may heal. But this time the sickness is deeper. It is a sickness of the spirit, and the wrath of heaven lies on us because of it.”

  He went on to describe the first visit of the boys and the trophy they had brought back—and how he had destroyed the thing with many purifying rites and hoped that the curse had been taken off. But apparently it had not, for the brave and wisely led army of the Dales had been routed by a smaller force of enemies —enemies who now held the entire land in their grip and had penned the tribe in its walls like cattle in a corral. Yet some devil must still have lurked in these boys, for they had stolen away again to the forbidden City, and had dealt with the witch-folk, and returned to preach openly the breaking of taboo. And what ruin might not come of that second insolence toward heaven? The gods might visit all the folk with plague; or they might let them die in here of slow hunger; or they might aid the Lann to break through and butcher the people and set the town ablaze. No, the tribe had to disown these mad boys who had thus broken the laws of the wise ancients. It had to appease heaven with the greatest sacrifice of all: human life taken according to law. “And thereafter,” finished Donn, “the gods may take pity on us and grant us the victory. But I will weep alone in darkness.”

  He turned slowly back to his chair and sat down again. His hands trembled. The Hall buzzed and mumbled until Wellan had the gong sounded again. Then the old man called, “Let the accused speak.”

  Carl got up. “We have decided that I will speak for all three of us,” he said, striving for quietness and dignity. He put his hands on his hips and stood looking over the assembly for a moment.

  “I am not one to argue logic and religion with the wise Donn,” he went on. “However, I should like to make one or two points now, in answer to the questions just raised.

  “First, it is said that we suffered our defeat at the hands of the Lann because of this visit to the City where I obtained the cold light. May I point out that we three were not the first to enter the taboo circle. It had often been done before, even if no one stayed very long. Furthermore, we did so under press of mortal danger, and the law of the Dales permits a man to save his Me in any way necessary. Moreover, the first disaster to us, the Lann invasion of the northern marches, the defeat of the gathered men there, and the sack of all that territory, happened before we took this light away. So how could it be due to the anger of the gods? Surely they are not so unjust as to punish a deed before it is done—or, for that matter, to visit the sins of three heedless boys on a whole tribe.” He looked at his father. “Sir, you led the army. Do you think our defeat was due to divine anger?”

  Ralph stood up. “I do not,” he said flatly. “We were beaten because the Lann had a better army. More cavalry, not more virtue. Also, we cut our way out of their trap and escaped with fewer losses than even I had hoped for. Offhand, I should think the gods took pity on us, rather than vengeance.” He sat down again.

  “As for the second trip to the City,” went on Carl, “again, you and your families fleeing here, and the Lann sweeping through the Dales, happened before the crime which is supposed to have caused them. In short, O Council, I think common sense shows that whether or not anyone goes to the City has nothing to do with whether or not we win our battles. Except in this way: that by the power of the ancients which is hidden away there, we can find our victory! Let me now tell you the full story of these two visits and you shall judge for yourselves whether we did right or not.”

  He gave them the tale, speaking in the plain words that he knew these earthy farmers and workmen liked.

  He dwelt on the great good spirit which had created the time vault in the hope that men would find it and use it well, and he told them a few things the ancients had undoubtedly been able to do. He finished simply: “Thus I ask the Council, which makes all laws, to raise the taboo on the old works. It was born of fear and ignorance; let us be bold and wise. Let us send our army forth from these walls, to drive through the Lann ring and capture that vault. Let us learn from it—first, some simple way to defeat our present foes-then, how to rebuild that glorious lost world. That is all.”

  He sat down, and the assembly chamber muttered and seethed with voices. Men stirred restlessly, talking to their neighbors, turning this new thought over in slow minds. Someone stood up and screamed for the instant death of the blasphemers, but was shut up by an armed guard. The tone that grew slowly out of the noise was confused: many were frightened and hostile and wanted a hanging, many were simply bewildered, a few cried for the release of the prisoners and the changing of the law.

  Donn stood up again. “This is heresy!” he shouted. “Men only make the laws of men. They cannot change the laws of the gods.”

  Carl could not suppress a grin, even then with the shadow of the noose on him. Hardly a Dalesman had any idea of what “heresy” could be; the gods were mysterious powers to which one sacrificed and made magic, that was all. Donn had spent so many years in his few old books that he had lost the feeling of life.

  But others were more dangerous. Taboo was a very real and terrible thing, whose breaking was sure to cause ruin. They yelled for the boys’ deaths. But magic could be set against magic; a man armed with the sorceries of the ancients could laugh at the powers of the gods. So there were others who shook their weapons and cried they would burn the gallows first.

  Ezzef’s voice lifted over the gathering roar: “Who stands with us? Who’ll fight to save these lads and conquer the City?”

  “I, I, I!” Swords leaped out. The group of young men stood up and waved their bl
ades whistling in the air. Others, scattered through the Hall, pushed toward them.

  “Kill the luckless ones!” A giant farmer rose, brandishing his ax. “Kill them and appease the gods!”

  “No!” John was on his feet now. “No, I’ll fight for them—”

  “Order!” wailed the elder feebly. “Order! Remember the law!”

  The gong thundered. Its brazen voice was almost lost in the rising clamor. Swords were aloft and men scrambled for a place to fight.

  Ralph sprang to the front of the stage. His great voice bellowed forth like angry thunder:

  “Stop! Stop this! Sit down! I’ll kill the first peacebreaker myself!”

  That turned their heads. They saw him towering there, stern and wrathful, a spear poised in one hand. They knew he could fling it to the farther end of the Hall and slay. They knew he was the Chief.

  Slowly, grumbling and growling, the men lowered their weapons and sat down. Slowly the storm died. When it was past and the silence lay heavy, Ralph’s scorn was whiplike:

  “Are you the Dalesmen, or are you wild dogs? What madness is this? With the enemy at our very walls, haven’t you got enough fighting to do? Or do you want to play into their hands and make them a present of all we’ve striven for? Hah, I don’t know why I should bother leading you. I’d sooner lead a pack of woods-runners. Now be quiet and listen!”

  All had forgotten that he was not presiding, that he spoke only as a common tribesman. “We have to work together,” he said, his tones now earnest and persuasive.

  “We have to forget grudges and differences until this common danger is past. Let us therefore reach a decision quickly, and let it be by the old method of law. Will all who favor keeping the taboo and hanging the boys raise their hands?”

  There were many hands that went up, thought Carl sickly. Some rose at once, some came slowly and hesitatingly, but the majority voted for death.

  Ralph did not stir a muscle, and his speech was unwavering. “Now let those who wish to change the law and release the boys raise their hands.” Perhaps a hundred were lifted, mostly by younger men.

  “Very well.” Ralph smiled. Only those on the stage were close enough to see the sweat that beaded bis forehead. “As is the custom of the Dales, I suggest we compromise. Since most of us want to keep the law as it is, let it be so. But to satisfy the other party, let us set these lads free on their promise not to violate the taboo again. And if the gods grant us victory, we shall give them a double sacrifice at the next festival.”

  That drew nods and muttered agreement from the bulk of the people. A few men, as usual, had to make speeches proposing this or that, or simply for or against Ralph’s suggestion, but it didn’t take long. In the end, the Council voted to adopt the motion, and Wellan closed the meeting.

  The great assembly filed out slowly, talking and arguing. John sprang up on the stage and folded his sons in his arms, weeping without shame.

  Ralph wiped his face and grinned at Carl.

  “Whew!” he said. “That was close!”

  “Too close,” said Carl. He,felt no relief. There was a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Donn shook his head. “I do not know if this was wise,” he said. “But—” Suddenly he smiled. “But believe me, Carl, I’m glad. If misfortune is to come, then let it!” His eyes grew piercing. “Now come with me to the temple and take the oath.”

  Carl stiffened his back. “No,” he said.

  “What?” screeched Donn.

  “I will not promise. Instead, I swear I will go back to the City whenever I can—again and again—until that vault is open!”

  “You’re mad!” cried Ralph. “Carl, you’re raving!”

  “You must die,” said Donn in a dead voice.

  “No!” Ralph stepped forth. “Can’t you see? He’s sick. Maybe he’s possessed by a devil. I don’t know. But he isn’t himself.”

  “That may be.” Donn stroked his chin. “Yes, that may well be. The curse of the City can work in strange ways.” He came to a decision. “I’ll do what I can to drive the devil from him,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll come with all that’s needful. But meanwhile he must go back to jail.”

  Ralph bit his lip. After a long while, he nodded.

  Carl was led away. No one had noticed that Tom and Owl had left with their father, making no promises either. Or else they had not been thought important enough to matter. Ralph walked from the Hall out into the market square. His face was drawn, and he smote his hands together in pain.

  Chapter 15

  THE FRIENDLESS ONES

  “It’s shameful!” said Ezzef. “It’s a cursed, crying shame!” He sat on a bench outside one of Dales-town’s public stables, leaning forward with fists clenched on knees. Tom and Owl had slipped from their joyful parents to meet him and stood before the young guard. Half a dozen others also gathered around, reckless youths who had shouted for blood in the Council and still chafed at its decision. All bore arms and all were angry.

  Tom had just reported what had happened to Carl—he’d heard rumors that his friend was back in prison, and had stopped to talk with him through the barred window. “And tomorrow,” he finished, “the Doctors will come with their drums and rattles and vile potions, to drive out the fiend they think has possessed him.”

  “I doubt if there’s any such thing,” said Owl. “But that kind of treatment will break anybody’s will in time.”

  “I don’t know if they’d get an oath from Carl,” scowled Ezzef. “He’s always been a stubborn sort when he thought he was in the right.”

  “In that case,” said Nicky, a son of Black Dan, “they’ll end up hanging him after all.”

  “By that time,” answered Tom gloomily, “the Lann will be here and may do the job for them.”

  “Yes, so.” Ezzef waved a sinewy hand at the nearest watchtower, where it bulked over the thatch and wood roofs. “They’re waiting outside—just waiting, curse them! That’s all they need to do. Hunger and sickness will fight for them within our walls.”

  “I suppose Ralph will sally forth against the enemy,” said Sam the Strong, who was a blacksmith’s apprentice.

  “Heh!” Willy Rattlehead’s bucktoothed mouth split in a grin. “And be mowed like ripe wheat. Oh, it’ll make a fine hero-song, when we’re all dead.”

  “Now wait,” said Ezzef. “Let’s not get sidetracked. I called you fellows together because I wanted to talk with someone I trusted. Tom, Owl, tell me—how much power is there in that vault? Honestly.”

  “I don’t know much about it,” shrugged Tom. “But you heard Carl tell in the meeting about that devil powder which scared the Lann from the City. Some of that, all by itself, could stampede their horses— which’d make a big difference in battle. And then the first time we were there, and old Ronwy was showing us through the vault, he was saying something about a simple flying machine. He called it a balloon, and said it wasn’t hard to make. Imagine throwing rocks and boiling water from above!”

  “There must be more,” added Owl. “Lots more. We’re just trying to remember what was there that we could put to quick use. Something called rockets—fire arrows, sort of, but charged with the devil powder—”

  “That’s enough,” Ezzef cut in. “I don’t understand it. Don’t think you boys do either. Carl does, a little, and this witch-chief seems to know a lot. Nor can the witches stand against even a few good warriors, so a strong band wouldn’t have to worry about them. D’you see what I’m getting at?”

  Tom’s eyes glowed. “Yes!”

  “We’re not the only ones who’d go on such an expedition,” said Ezzef. “I know at least a dozen others that’d jump at the chance. Didn’t have time to get word to them of this little meeting, but they’re biting the bit right now, I swear.”

  “So—” Nicky’s dark face grew taut. “So we get Carl out of the jug, and sneak from this town and through the enemy lines, and make our way to the City. There we’ll have to drive off the witch-patrols. We’re taking the wil
d chance that Carl and this Ronwy can cook up something useful. If that doesn’t work, why, we’ve betrayed our tribe and are outlaws even if they do somehow win.”

  “You needn’t go if you’re afraid,” snapped Tom.

  “Oh, I’m not afraid,” said Nicky evenly. “I’ll be glad to go. I just wanted to make sure everybody understood the risks we’d have to run.”

  “Not much risk,” grunted Ezzef. “Because we’ve really nothing to lose. All right, boys, are you game?”

  Night crept westward. Carl’s cell darkened before the sky had faded, and he stood at the window looking out to the blue strip of heaven until it had turned black and starry. Then he sighed and lay down on his crude mattress.

  It was quiet in here. Ralph had forbidden lights after dark while the siege lasted, lest they start a fire in the overcrowded town, and folk went to bed with the sun. Now there would only be the guards at gate and tower, and the night watch tramping down the streets. The town slept, and about its slumber glowed the ominous red of the Lann campfires, and the sounds of the enemy laughing and singing and sharpening swords drifted in its dreams.

  Carl couldn’t doze off. He lay bolt awake, turning restlessly, staring open-eyed into the gloom. What was he to do?

  He’d hurt his father, who had fought so valiantly in battle and Council to save his Me. He’d gotten himself locked away, when he might be of use patrolling the beleaguered town. In the morning he would face a crazed drumming and dancing, and be scourged and given nauseating drinks, to expel the devil they thought was in him. And for what? For a lost cause, for a will-o’-the wisp, for a stubbornness which would not surrender even in defeat.

  In the end, he knew, he would give up and take the oath. While he lived there was always hope—someone else might be persuaded to break taboo. But then why did he refuse now?