Across The Lake

by Doug Kelly

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  The clansmen resided primarily in the south, near the Mississippi River delta; almost all of their cities were at the shores of the large lake named Pontchartrain, or within a short distance of that body of water. Therefore, there was more traffic and communication between them by use of boats than was the case with inland towns, whose trade must be conducted using caravans of wagons and beasts of burden, which not only moved slowly, but which were also at the mercy of the cannibals near the swamps. Nomads and bandits were also a threat as were desperate homeless persons. Vagrant and hungry, because their community had ostracized them, either justly or without cause, the homeless had no allegiance to any village or town.

  Until the number of clan villages had increased, there had been little knowledge of, and scarcely any direct trade between, the central and the distant peripheral districts surrounding the lake. Only recently had new territories become open to trade routes. Vast forests extended in every direction like a green belt around the lake, and no clansman had completely cut through it, or returned to tell about their adventure. Even in the more civilized part, around the dominion of the clansmen, it was still not easy to travel. At the barriers, when approaching rival territories, village guards demanded to know the traveler’s business. As for the special privileged few, they had official documentation transcribed on crude parchment to verify their intentions. For those without documentation or reputation, there was the more covert choice to cross the palms of the restricting official with silver coins, satisfying their corrupt insatiable greed. Gold, the most sought after and prized of the precious metals, offered merchants and travelers unbelievable privilege in both commerce and bribery.

  The lake was a massive body of water fed by the Mississippi River. During its inception, the flowing water had pushed at the newly formed lake’s southern shoreline; it overflowed and expanded to merge with an existing lake and took the former’s name, Pontchartrain. At the new lake’s southern border, the muddy water flowed through an estuary and exited into the gulf. After the days of the cataclysm ended, the receding ocean fell back and revealed vast sandbanks as its level became lower. Those sandy ridges extended across most of the Mississippi Delta. In other places, violent subterranean forces had lifted the land higher and had formed cliffs that created an eastern boundary for a section of the lake. Tsunami waves had thrown up an immense quantity of silt and sand to form those dunes across the delta so that along this great estuary, a broad barrier of beach had risen up, as if the ocean had churned up its floor and cast it on the land.

  Across the lake and swamps, the most direct route was a journey that often took many days to weeks, even for a well-manned vessel, because the route of passage, as it twisted around the scattered islands, faced so many changes of direction that any boat was sure to have to fight against the wind, no matter which direction it blew. The length of travel was increased by the islands and convoluted shorelines that did not permit navigation in a straight line. Therefore, those obstacles prolonged rowing across the lake in any direction. It was a beautiful lake, abounding with fish of every kind, and lush green islands adorned the vast expanse of water. Aton thought that there was nothing more lovely in the world, than when on a calm evening, he could watch the sunlight go across the level and gleaming water, where it was so far across the lake that he could not distinguish any ending to its expanse. Sometimes it was blue, reflecting the noonday sky, sometimes white from the clouds; on other occasions, it was green and dark, as the wind rose and the waves rolled.

  Many parts were still unexplored; they knew little of the distant regions adjacent to the lake, which remained unnamed. Each settlement by the lake was familiar with the cove near it and with the road that connected to the next village, but that was the extent of their common knowledge of each other. The slow ships used for trade were often days in crossing the distance between one port and another. They waited at the mercy of the wind to blow in their direction of travel, and being heavy, deeply laden, built broad and flat-bottomed for shallows, they drifted like logs of timber. In small boats, hunters sometimes passed swiftly from one place to another. Travelers would have been able to pass more quickly if not for the questioning authorities at every city, town, or village port, who assessed fees for the ruling families.

  Some boats could travel at night, and in calm weather a great distance away from the shore, but the small merchant ships anchored near the beach toward evening, and the crews, after disembarking, lit their fires and cooked their food. Where the shoreline was exposed and rocky, so that they could not pass in a leisurely manner, they were forced to continue, sailing or rowing to another location.

  The current inhabitants of the region did not understand the origin of the lake. There were many speculations as to its formation. They knew it had not always been there as a grand estuary because they had seen the destruction brought forth from its creation. Some had seen the remnants of the cities built by their predecessors so long ago, which had been flooded and destroyed by the lake. Some said that an immense volume of fresh water had fallen as rain and submerged the low coastal area, which never recovered from the deluge. Others said that the mighty river dividing the continent had violently shifted its direction and meandered into the inhabited lands of their ancestors, bringing an unrecoverable destruction in its path, while others told the story of a great trembling across the ground, which leveled the giant structures the Americans had built. Most people thought that when the land sank where the Americans had erected their ancient buildings, the ocean had swept in from the south and the great river from the north had submerged the lower ground.

  People understood that most stories handed down from generation to generation were correct, because their ancestors had never intended them to be passed on as fables. Gifted memories, heirlooms of history, or maybe some exaggerated tales passed from the lips of fathers to the ears of sons and, added one to the other, had bridged time, and some explorers and treasure hunters had found ancient books, although not many. While the few remaining scholars and treasure hunters discovered and deciphered more writings, this only added to the mystery. Those who leaned toward a religious explanation of the vanished Americans pointed out that the wickedness of those times might have surpassed a deity’s tolerance, and that a change and a purging of the human evil that had accumulated was necessary, and was effected by divine intervention, or the rapture, as some had called it.

  At its southern extremity, the lake widened and was lost in the vast marshes that covered the site of the ancient city of Baton Rouge. It was obvious that through this area, but a long time ago, the Mississippi river had flowed. After changes in the ocean level and the accumulation of sand that the tsunamis had brought with them, vast quantities of debris had obstructed the rivers. Various waterways carried the wreckage of towns and bridges, but none more so than by the Mississippi. This added to the accumulation of rubbish, which had increased rapidly because the remains of foundations of the ancient bridges held it like a trap created for that purpose. Near the abandoned cities, refuse choked the sewers, which had poured into the river through enormous subterranean aqueducts and drains. The manmade levies had failed and the rivers spread freely.

  After a while, all these shallows and banks matted together with the growth of weeds, willows, and cattails, while the tide, ebbing lower at each drawing back, revealed still more mud and sand. Clansmen believed that after that had gone on for a time, the waters of the river, unable to find a channel, began to overflow into the deserted streets, and filled the underground passages and drains, of which the number and extent was beyond their imagination. Those underground sewers, by the force of the water, had burst up. As a result, more houses and remains of collapsed buildings fell down. That was all the clansmen knew concerning the origin of the big lake, excluding all that superstition and speculation had advanced.

  Merchant ships from the ocean came into the lake through the estuary, waiting outside the sand bar until the tide
lifted them over. The large merchant ships, built to traverse the gulf waters along the coast, were stout and well manned, carrying many men. The smaller ships on the lake, which were much lighter, did not venture past the coastline because they could not withstand the ocean’s heavy waves. They carried fewer men, but they were more numerous. The larger merchant ships, because of their size and displacement, could not always dock on shore at night.

  Storms come up with extraordinary swiftness. For that reason, ships on the lake, whenever possible, followed the trade routes behind the islands. Those islands sheltered them like a protecting reef. Storms could end just as quickly as they formed, so it was common for the morning to be calm, the midday raging in waves dashing restlessly upon the beach, and the evening tranquil again. Sailors, who were accustomed to the ocean, referred to the suddenness of the lake’s storms and the shifting winds as more dangerous than the ocean itself, but there were usually islands on the lake, behind which a vessel can be sheltered.

  The surface of the lake concealed many very ancient towns and cities, and their names were lost to history. Sometimes the anchors brought up fragments of rusty iron and old metal or black beams of timber. After extending to its present limits, the lake rose no farther, not even in the wettest seasons, but always remained the same. From the position of certain harbors, they knew that it had remained constant for a great number of years.

  When the river shifted and made the lake, the flooding aftermath submerged many cities in its path or under the enlarged lake that it had created. Even if the city was not submerged, the surrounding lands had turned to marsh under the bed of rubble that remained, rendering it inhospitable to most people, except cannibals.

  Those cities, of which people told such grand legends, were made of brick, concrete, and steel. Then ivy grew over it, trees and shrubs sprang up, and the water underneath burst in, helping nature overthrow the broken cities. All those areas where the Americans had built on low ground turned to marshes and swamps. Those houses that were on higher ground, such as those in towns at higher elevations, were ransacked of all they contained by the surviving refugees of the apocalypse; steel and any other raw materials were extracted, too. Trees growing up near the remaining structures eventually cracked the enduring walls, and they fell in. Trees and bushes covered them; ivy and green shrubbery concealed the crumbling masses of brick and concrete.

  The same was the case with the smaller cities and towns whose sites the hunters knew of in the woods. Although many of the present towns probably bore derivations of their ancient names, they did not stand upon the old sites. Settlers chose to build them a safe distance away. Therefore, the low-lying parts of the ancient city of Baton Rouge became swamp. The very largest of the buildings had already fallen in, and there was nothing visible but trees and shrubs on the upper lands, and willows, bushes, and reeds, on the lower. The crumbling ruins had choked the flow of water, and almost turned it back. Near the lake, it was a vast stagnant swamp, which no timid man dared enter, since death would be his inevitable fate. It was the realm of the swamp people and daring treasure hunters alone. Brave individuals hunting for wealth had found riches, and a plethora of skeletons in the abandoned cities. Surviving inhabitants of the old cities who had significant amounts of money or other resources must have quickly found out they could not eat gold, silver, or gems, and starved side by side with the financially destitute.

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  Earlier in the year, Aton had driven a wooden peg into the wall of this room from which to hang, using a thin strip of leather, a highly polished brass disc to use as a mirror. In the corner, between the table and the window, stood a long hardwood bow, and a quiver full of metal-tipped arrows. Some hunting spears stood in another corner by the door. One of them had a metal tip of Aton’s own design. Against the wall, a heap of nets lay in a jumbled mess, some used for birds and some for fish. Near those was a small round shield, rope snares, and in an open box, several chisels, gouges, adzes, and other woodworking tools.

  On the floor were a number of arrows in various stages of production, some bundled tightly for straightening, some already fletched with red cardinal feathers, and long thin blocks of lumber from the straight wood of an ash tree for his arrow shafts. A pile of skins filled the third corner, and beside them were numerous deer antlers. A few peacock's feathers were there also, rare and difficult to get, and intended for Esina Regalyon. Beside one leg of the bed, a long coil of thin braided strips of cowhide used as a lasso was on the floor, and by another was a helmet for combat, a relic of war given to him by his father. It was lightweight, not made from metal. Its composition both confused and fascinated Aton because its mysterious production was that of the Americans. What material they had made it from was still a mystery and if he did ever determine what the material was, he doubted his ability to recreate it.

  There was no sword. Of all those weapons, none seemed to have been in use, if judged by their rusted edges and the dust that had gathered on them, except the bow and one of the boar spears. The bed itself was very low, wood framed, thick and solid. The clothes were of the coarsest linen and wool. They had grown the cotton on his clan’s land, and had traded metal tools with the wandering tribes of hill people for some of the wool. The herdsmen of the hill tribes desired metal tools, and Aton’s clan was lucky enough to have a skilled blacksmith.

  The hill people’s domain was mainly the open, flat land of the continent, but they had cleared trees from the hilltops surrounding their dominion as their home away from the plains. Although their numbers were great, they lived in small groups, tending to their cattle, goats, and sheep. Each tribe was an extended family, ruled by the person the group had chosen. Compared to the other divisions of people, they were the most peaceful. Each tribe intermarried with the tribes closest to it. Through shared bloodlines, they had found a peaceful, cooperative existence because conflict with another tribe could very well mean death to a relative. Therefore, intertribal clashes rarely occurred. The hill people shared the same physical characteristics. Tall and strong, the men each carried a long wooden spear. They used the spear to keep carnivorous predators at bay more than they used it for warfare. It was true that the hill people were peaceful, but when provoked, they were fierce warriors whose individual tribes banded together as one and therefore, they had the comfort of numbers in their defense. Their economy revolved around their flocks of sheep and herds of goats and cattle. With the clansmen, they traded wool for metal tools, but only by chance as they passed the stockades of the clansmen who lived near the forest roads. The clansmen, being the most educated of the segregated groups of people, had retained and fostered the knowledge of smelting and metalworking. As the herds and flocks migrated with the seasons, the two groups came together to barter. The clansmen had their own livestock, but because the hill people had no way to produce their own metal tools or to grow grain to eat through the winter, they traded for these items, and the hill tribes considered them truly precious. If offered gold, silver, or a gemstone for trade, the hill people would always laugh. They had no use for the glitter of precious metals or the sparkle of gemstones.

  Rolled into a bundle, Aton also had furs for warmth during the cooler nights of winter, but these were not required since springtime had brought with it earlier mornings, longer days, and warmer breezes. There was no rug or any furs to cover the floor. The ceiling was just as bare, the worm-eaten rafters visible. On the table was a large ceramic bowl, full of flowers that bloomed in the spring, fragrant enough to attenuate the musky odor of an active young man’s room.

  His wide-brimmed hat was on the floor, his jacket was on the wooden seat, as were his pants, and beside the chair were leather shoes. His wool cloak hung on a wooden peg against the door, which he had shut and locked with a broad bolt of oak. Last night before going to sleep, he had covered the windowsill with rough sketches on parchment, designs for weapons of war, something that fascinated him although he had never participated in actual combat, unlik
e his father, the clan leader Davin Matin, and his cousin, Briand Matin.

  The morning light thrust through the shutters and illuminated the polished brass disc on the wall, causing it to glow a golden color like a second sun. Morning always came too early for Aton. He slept on, ignoring the songbirds of dawn.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A short time later, he moved restlessly on his bed at the sound of two voices calling greetings to each other, one outside and one inside the clan’s enclosing wall. Then the main gate swung open, and a wagon came past the window of his quiet bedroom. He sat up briefly and glanced at the radiance of the brass mirror on his wall as it reflected the morning light. He stretched and tried to rub the somnolence from his eyes as he listened to the sound of the noisy wagon fading away, bouncing across all the ruts in the dirt road on its way to the storehouse. When the rickety cart was finally silent, he immediately rested his head back on his feather pillow and went back to sleep.