Sheri Tepper - Gate To Women's Country

by Gate To Women's Country(Lit)

  Enough for today. She'd head back to the camp and confirm the manager's opinion that somebody... somebodies were watching.

  IT WAS TWO DAYS LATER that Septemius Bird arrived at the sheep camp, Kostia and Tonia on either side of him on the seat of the wagon, the doors open to allow Bowough a view of the passing countryside, and Septemius himself more cheerful than at any time in the past several days. He had, as a matter of fact, brightened up considerably when Chernon left them, half a day's travel back.

  "You don't like him, do you?" Kostia asked, nodding her head to show him she already knew the answer. They were passing through the tall wooden gate which closed the fortification against the world outside, the servitor-guard looking them over carefully and seeming reassured at the sight of the young women and the aged man. "You don't like him one bit." "He's a... well, he's a difficult lad to get to know." "Oh piss," Tonia announced in a no-nonsense voice. "Piss and sour milk and sheep-shit. You knew him half an hour after we picked him up, Septemius Bird. You had him all figured out. Him with that wounded child look, those pouting lips, those heavy eyes. Did get hurt some as a child, probably. Found out it made people feel guilty, so he kept right on getting wounded, here and there, now and then. A little obvious suffering to make mama and sister pay attention. Stavia saw that and took to him, mothering as much as sex, I'd say. There's lots of the Great Mother in Stavia."

  "I agree," said Kostia. "So then he grew up, refusing to heal, keeping the pitiable parts of him foremost, where they'd draw his manna's attention, and his sister's, and probably Stavia's as well. Good mind, behind all that, and he knows she's not stupid, so he begged books. That makes her guilty for it's against the ordinances, and her guilt means she's going to hurt him again, and that gives him a hold on her."

  "But he won't do anything dishonorable, despite what he's already done and is about to do," Tonia drawled. "Brave, pitiable boy, no he won't. So there she is, caught in the middle, feeling she's been the one to hurt him most, all her fault. Oh, sheep-shit, Septemius, you know all about it."

  "At your age," he announced, "it would be considerate to be less wise. I take some comfort from the fact that you will both undoubtedly be driven to ill-considered and reproachable behavior by some future romantic attachment."

  "At your age," Kostia said, "you might as well stop mincing words. There's something about him puts me off. A kind of destructive audacity about him."

  "Or behind him," Septemius agreed. "For all he'd like us to think this is an illicit trip, I'd bet anything you'd like that his officers know all about it. Maybe they even sent him."

  They were silent a time, exchanging significant glances. "I feel you're probably right, Uncle. But it's Stavia I'm concerned about," mused Tonia. "I'm worried about her."

  "And there she is," said Kostia, gesturing down the narrow, dusty alley they were on toward an equally dusty square compassed about with wool sheds and sheep pens. Stavia stood at one corner of the earthern plaza, talking with a middle-aged woman dressed in leather trousers and a loosely woven woolen cape. Both looked up at their approach, Stavia at first frowning, then smiling, as though she was glad to see them but had not expected them quite so soon.

  "Septemius," she called, drawing the woman with her. "I'd like you to meet the camp manager, Marietta. Septemius Bird, his nieces, Tonia and Kostia. The gentleman in the back of the wagon is the elder Bird." She leaned through the door. "How are you, Bowough? You're looking better than when last I saw you!"

  "It's the medical miss, isn't it? Come in, my dear, come in." He reached for her hand, tugging her over the seat and into the wagon where she crouched beside him, taking note of his improved health while Septemius conferred with the manager about the possibility of doing a little show for the camp residents. Marietta was delighted and willing to pay. Keeping up morale in this isolated place was one of her major concerns.

  "You picked him up?" Stavia whispered to Tonia, who had come back into the wagon with her. "Chernon?"

  "Oh yes. He left us half a day out, Stavia. He's gone eastward to make some signal for you. That is, if you're still sure you're going off with him this way. Kostia and I don't recommend it."

  "Still telling my fortune?" Stavia asked, not really upset. "Come, now. He's a dear old friend, brother of a dear old friend, and he's counting on me."

  The young women shook their heads at her but didn't say anything more. Stavia had that bland and unresponsive face which often masked with an appearance of politeness the most implacable sort of obstinacy. No point in wasting one's voice. "What have you been doing here?" Tonia asked instead, detouring the boggy place in their relationship. "It seems very remote."

  "I've been collecting plants, inspecting the camp, treating the people and the animals, writing reports, and I'm about to go off to collect a few more plants and explore to the east before returning home again," Stavia said in a carefully cheerful and totally uninterested voice that said, better than words could have done, "Don't talk to me about not going, because my mind is completely made up." Then she smiled, a Stavia smile, more herself. "Before I do that, though, I'll treat you and the family to dinner. How does roast lamb sound?"

  "If it didn't sound good, what?"

  "You could have a nice dish of local greens," Stavia laughed. "Which would probably smell like sheep. Everything does."

  The lamb was roasted over an open fire. It was tender and delicious, oozing with succulent fat which ran down their fingers to their wrists and dripped off their chins. They had the dish of local greens as well, which smelled of sun and herbage and not at all of sheep, as well as porridge flavored with drippings and onions and garlic. When they were done, Septemius opened out the stage from the side of the wagon. As an overture, Bowough played a reedy accompaniment upon a squeeze organ while the gray dogs danced soberly on all fours and the white ones hopped about on either their front or back legs, laughing the while with lolloping tongues. Then Septemius ascended to the platform, cut Tonia in half and restored her, made her disappear in several different ways, from his empty hat drew doves, and from the shepherds' ears plucked coins, which he then poured into the hat and caused to vanish once more. Tonia and Kostia, Kostia in a veil so as not to reveal that they were twins, which would have explained a good deal about her recent disappearances, did a mind-reading act which involved answering questions sealed in envelopes, without opening the envelopes until after the question was answered. Everyone had beer, a treat, since grain was always short, and went to bed feeling jolly. The guards on the walls sang their all-is-well's into the star-pricked sky, and the camp settled down.

  "When are you going to meet him?" Septemius asked from the fireside.

  "Tomorrow," said Stavia, looking up from the paper she was holding down on a flat board before her, squinting in the flickering light. "I've got to ask another favor, Septemius."

  "I've done entirely too much already," he said, trying not to sound as annoyed as he felt. It was annoyance mostly with himself. He had done too much, too much harm. He wanted to dissuade her.

  "I want you to deliver this report and three strange dogs we've found."

  "Dogs?" he asked, suddenly interested.

  "I know you probably planned to go on over to Peggytown, but it would be better if you didn't travel on that road. Not alone. Besides, the dogs and my report, both, should get back to Marthatown as soon as possible. There are people spying on the camp here, people from somewhere south, maybe those same people you told me about. The Joint Women's Country Council should know about all this as soon as possible. I think we need a garrison down here. Know it in my gut, mostly." She frowned, remembering the itchy feeling of being observed she had had when she wandered away from the camp.

  "I've written a letter to Morgot. In it, I've asked her to pay you for your time. I'd pay you now if I had any exchange money with me, but I don't."

  He shifted uncomfortably. "You don't want us to travel that road, but you're going to be out there, you and Chernon, alone?"

>   "We won't be alone! We'll have the donkey." She grinned at him. "And no, I'm teasing you. I've decided the itinerary as laid out by the Joint Council isn't appropriate. I don't need to explore south to find out if there are people there, we already know that. So, I'll just do a very brief and sneaky reconnaissance toward the east, mostly to collect botanicals. No sense wasting this journey entirely, even though I won't do all of what was planned. I was out there on the prairie today and I could feel eyes all over me, like a swarm of bees. I'm not going to show myself again. Exploration south of here should be done in strength, including warriors, not by one or two."

  "I worry about you," he said impotently. "I do, Stavia."

  "Tss," she teased him. "Worry about your own family, old Bird. Worry about those twins. Better settle down near Women's Country and let them live in a civilized manner."

  "I've thought that," he replied. "Yes."

  "Well, speak to Morgot about it when you get back to Marthatown. Tell her I begged your assistance and promised our best efforts in return. She'll get you an itinerant's permit to settle."

  "And how would I earn a living, girl? You seem not to think of that."

  "Thought of it long since," she grinned at him. "You could do messenger and freight service for the Council. They use wagoneers and show people all the time to carry messages and material from one city to another, and they pay for it. Or, if you'd rather stay close, they'd probably give you a grandsir job."

  "A grandsir job?" It was not a term he had heard before.

  "A sinecure, Septemius. Some small thing that needs doing a few hours a day and leaves a man time free to do other arty-crafty things to suit himself. Additionally, you could have a garden...."

  "Oh good," said Kostia. "I'd like that."

  "And if your nieces chose to attend school, they'd get a grain and cheese allotment...."

  "Really?" Tonia seemed impressed by this.

  "And, once you'd lived in the itinerants' quarters a year or two, you could petition to come inside the walls on the basis that your status is essentially the same as servitor, that Tonia and Kostia wish to establish residence, and that you've been stable long enough to indicate sincerity in wanting to stop this endless flitting about."

  "You women think of everything, don't you?" he said, somewhat cynically.

  "No," she sighed. "But we've learned enough to know that we don't get stronger by setting arbitrary impediments in the way of good people joining us. Kostia and Tonia would be assets, and we're not fool enough to think they'd come inside and leave you out."

  Septemius found his eyes suspiciously damp. "So there are ways for men to get inside your walls besides the Gate to Women's Country."

  "Old men," she said. "Grayheads. Yes. Usually only if they have younger female family members. Though not always."

  "Not always?"

  "Only five years or so ago, we took in an old man who'd traveled far north beyond Tabithatown. He had no family at all, but he had maps, good ones. We figured the maps paid his way."

  "And the dancing dogs?"

  "Maybe the dogs will pay yours! I suppose they can dance as well inside the walls as out. We're not about to decrease the number of species available, though we'd have to work out some kind of ration for them. What do you feed them?"

  "Rabbits, mostly," answered Tonia. "And mice. And little furry short-tailed things that come out at night. Septemius sets snares, and the dogs catch a lot for themselves. They eat grass sometimes, too, and berries, and bugs. And they're not very big...." She was looking at Stavia anxiously.

  "Don't worry about it, girl. Breed them, let them have puppies if they will. We'll try them as mousers in the grain warehouses. We've had no dogs in Marthatown since the convulsion, but there's no ordinance against it. I've heard there are a few dogs up at Tabithatown, and the Gypsies have some. Very civilized, dogs, so perhaps it's time we civilized ourselves again. Besides, I'm giving you these three strange ones to take back, along with rations to feed them. Dried meat, I think, and enough grain to make some kind of cooked-up mess they'll eat." She went on telling them about the strange dogs, as she lit a lantern and led them through the alleyway to the pen so they could see for themselves. Bowough creaked along behind on his cane, vocal as a magpie about the strangeness of them.

  "I think you'd better keep them penned or tied," Stavia told Septemius. "If you pass flocks, likely they'd try to join the sheep. I want them well away from here before their owners come looking for them."

  Septemius gave her another worried look. "I told you about those people who live south of here, Stavia."

  "I remember. Don't worry. You sound like Joshua."

  When morning came, she was gone. Septemius spent half a day with a helper from the camp building a cage for the new dogs, another half day getting a few stores together, one night safe behind walls, and then they started back the way they had come.

  "I don't like her being out there," he said for the dozenth time, to no one in particular.

  "I know," replied Kostia. "And when we deliver the message and animals to Morgot, we ought to tell her so."

  REHEARSAL:

  (Achilles approaches the group of women purposefully)

  ACHILLES This then is Polyxena.

  POLYXENA (Yawning) Yes, I'm Polyxena.

  ACHILLES My slave, Polyxena.

  POLYXENA No one's slave, Polyxena.

  (Achilles attempts to grab her and finds he cannot hold her)

  ACHILLES She sifted through my arms, like rays of sun, like moonlit smoke, like mist, like....

  IPHIGENIA Like a ghost. ACHILLES Like a ghost. Yes.

  POLYXENA (Pleased) Somehow I was not surprised.

  ACHILLES How can I force obedience on this? In other times I've used the fear of death to make a woman bow herself to me. If not the fear of her own death, then fear for someone else, a husband or a child. How can I bend this woman to my will?!

  POLYXENA I think I will not bend.

  IPHIGENIA You see, it's as we've tried to tell you, Great Achilles. Women are no good to you dead.

  LEAVING Septemius, Chernon hiked out of the flatlands onto a moderate height, camped on it, spent a virtually sleepless night, and then lit a smoky fire at dawn. Stavia rose early, watched for the smoke, and was already out the northern gate of the sheep camp by the time Chernon buried the fire, which he did very shortly after lighting it. All was precisely according to plan. She traveled toward him in a mood of fatalistic expectancy, not precisely joyous, but with more contentment in her than she had felt in some time, her feeling of guilt toward him eased.

  It took her several hours to reach him. Though he kept himself well concealed in forest as she had instructed, he watched for her from the high edge of a ridge, growing more impatient and heated with each passing moment. When she arrived he had no words to greet her with. Imaginings had kept him awake for most of the night; his restless body had done the rest. He took hold of her as she approached the camp, pulling her away from the donkey, dragging her toward his spread blankets, covering her mouth with his own so that she had no time to speak. He gave her no time, no word, nothing but a frenzied and almost forcible ravishment which, while it did not totally surprise her, left her, when he rolled away, completely unfulfilled and trembling in a state of pain and half-aroused anger. He was tangled into his blankets, eyes closed, breathing like surf in deep, liquid heavings. If it had not been precisely rape, it had been close to it.

  She drew her clothes together and rose, crouching away from him, as she might have done from some normally tame animal which had turned dangerous. He sank deeper into sleep, and she retreated farther into the woods where her pack animal waited patiently, reins dragging on the ground. She lifted the pack off, pegged the animal to a line, searched until she found a trickle of water down a nearby wooded gully, then stripped and washed herself, pouring the water over herself again and again from cupped hands, all very quietly, trying to keep from screaming or striking out or going back where he lay and kil
ling him. There was blood on her thighs, but she had more or less expected that. She had received more hurt than pleasure from the encounter, but she knew that was not unusual. She had started women's studies at ten; she had had classes in physiology and sexual skills; at her age she was far older than almost all of her acquaintances in gaining her first actual experience, but she was no less prepared than they had been. Chernon had simply given her no time or opportunity to do or be anything except a receptacle for his hasty passion. She was not terrified or greatly hurt, but she was angry.

  He had said nothing! Nothing loving, nothing sentimental. He had done no wooing. He had taken her as though she had been one of the Gypsies....

  "You could have stopped him," the actor Stavia remarked from some dim and cavernous mental recess. "You could have laid him out, Stavia."