A Long Time Until Now (46 page)

CHAPTER 27

Of course, it had to be raining when they left.

Ramon wasn’t bothered by rain, though there was a lot more here than in South Texas, except during hurricane season. But they’d be hiking through wet grass and mud, then trying to bivouac in it.

The wet grass soaked their pants, and the water ran down into boots. Within a mile, he squelched with every step. He hoped the poncho over the trash bag kept his sleeping bag dry.

“We’re actually stopping with the Neolithics?” he asked.

Spencer said, “If we can. We’ll walk up, see what kind of reception we get, and go from there.”

They took a direct route, angling downhill and diverting around some of the terrain features.

“At least the rain keeps the bugs and the animals down.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” he said. “Rain is great cover for a stalk. Watch for the wolves especially.”

It was going to be an uncomfortable trip. He hadn’t worn a ruck since they got here, and all the hard work they’d been doing was not the same as rucking. It was cold and wet, water now trickling down his back. Nor was that good for the armor, he recalled. The only food they had was several pounds of jerky, though they were all reasonably adept at digging up edible roots and stalks now. Dandelions and wild garlic didn’t have much taste, but they did make meat a bit less boring.

By midafternoon they were getting close to the Paleoliths’ village. He wanted to see how that had changed.

They were seen by wandering workers, and he got to look at their herding attempts.

“Gimped females,” he commented. “I heard you say it, but it’s different in person. There’s a lot of them.”

“Yeah,” Oglesby said. “More than last time.”

“I expect they’re planning to raise a generation in captivity. Many of those are very pregnant.”

Spencer asked, “Are those fields uphill?”

“Sort of,” he squinted. “They’re not quite prepared fields, but they’re weeding around what they like, and seem to have increased the seeding. Oh, and they’re using the fruit and nut trees as latrine area.”

“How . . . special.”

He shrugged. “It works. I don’t know if they’re seasonal about it, just don’t pick up any fallen fruit, or figure rinsing any stink will fix it. There’s a reason Eurasians are immune to almost everything.”

Spencer said, “Yeah, remind me to tell you about Vikings keeping cattle in their houses in winter, and saving all the shit and piss for leather processing.”

Oglesby grimaced and said, “Charming.”

Spencer said, “In any case, they’ve seen us.” He waved, so Ramon did, too.

“Romans.” The group was part Neolith, part Roman.

Yes, that was a hunting party. Five men and a dog. The dog was largely wolf, reminiscent of a malamute or husky. Three of the men were Romans.

“They don’t seem to trust us,” he said.

Spencer said, “I don’t blame them for that. This is going to be tense.”

Spencer was shaking a bit. Oglesby flat out trembled like a Chihuahua. Right, they’d had a shootout last time.

The hunters approached slowly. The Neoliths seemed more afraid than the moderns. The Romans were cautious, but seemed arrogant.

“Should I?” Ramon asked.

“Go ahead.”

“
Estamos en nuestro camino por el río. Traemos saludos de nuestro Tribunus
.”

One of the Romans replied with a string that included words like, “
hospitia
,” “
habitate
,” and “
noctem
.”

“Do we want to stay over?”

“Sure. Thank them.”

“
Assentior. Gracias, Milites
.”

As they preceded the party into the village, he felt his back crawl.

Spencer turned his head and said, “I’m talking to you just so I can turn my head and keep an eye to the rear, using Germanic words instead of those other tongue roots.”

“Hooah, Sergeant.” Oglesby seemed impressed and enthusiastic. Ramon caught on. He’d just be as non-spic as possible and that should do it.

The three talked back and forth about nothing at all, just to keep an eye on the Romans, who were keeping an eye on them.

Once at the village, it was obvious the Romans were in control. About twenty of them milled about, in armor, buttoned up and carrying javelins. They had leather capes to keep the rain off. The wall was now reinforced with those square piles the Romans used, and a ditch and mound not unlike their own, but not as tall. It looked like it went up fast, though. There was a lodge with water puddling under sticks, probably a bathhouse, and a couple of designated latrines.

Oglesby said, “Well, that explains the improvements in even Neolithic technology since last time. Also, I don’t recognize most of these guys. Different group.”

“Yeah. I wonder how many Romans there are, total.” Spencer kept looking about.

“Enough to split forces. I see they’re putting in log cabins.”

Ramon said, “Wish we could.”

“They’ve got a lot of labor.”

Ramon found himself translating to the Roman NCO on site, a Centurion Laurentius Flavius Brutus.

He had a hard time following even slow Latin, but got an impression from pointing. “He doesn’t trust our rifles.”

“Well, too bad.”

Ramon shrugged, and clutched the M4 to his chest. The Romans could order them to leave, or deal with it. Shrugging back, Brutus pointed at a small cabin. It was just big enough for the three of them to roll out bags.

“
Gracias
, Centurion,” he acknowledged.

“You first,” Spencer said. “I’ll watch them.”

The inside had a dirt floor, well-packed. The logs were loosely notched and chinked with mud and river clay. The roof was thatch over sticks, about five feet high. It was an oversized doghouse, but adequate by Army standards, and quite comfy by their local ratings.

He kept guard while the other two laid out their bags, then his, with rucks stacked in a corner.

“We have a servant girl, I think,” he said. “Urushu.”

Spencer and Oglesby strained their necks around the door frame.

Oglesby said, “Huh. A second change of leadership. I feel sorry for them.”

She was Urushu, tall, dark, lean but with broad hips. She carried an armful of wood for a small firepit near their door, which she built into an efficient fire lay.

Oglesby greeted her, and she looked up in surprise. She muttered something, and hurried off.

“She’s coming back with food,” he said.

When she returned, she had a stick with a coal to light the fire. She put down a leather-wrapped bundle of food, set the coal and blew up the small fire. They had a great view of her ass while she did so, and it had nice curves, but needed some pimples popped and a bath. Every encounter buried the noble savage crap deeper.

That done, she unwrapped the skin to reveal baked meat and roots with some kind of flatbread. It smelled like rice and nuts again.

She spoke, Oglesby replied, then they talked. That language was full of clicks, nasals, tones. It was a beautiful language to listen to.

Spencer slowly reached out and took a cake from the leather sheet, tried it, nodded, and indicated. Ramon gladly grabbed one, and some baked meat that smell then taste proved to be salted beef. It was chewy, but not bad. The cake was rice cake. That was good.
Dios
, they needed more starch.

“Damn. Good stuff,” he said quietly.

Oglesby took a couple of bites, but kept talking. Some of the girl’s gestures were universal—shrugs and headshakes. Others were unusual hand movements that accentuated something she said. Overall, she seemed sad.

After a few minutes, she stood, almost-bowed with her hands out, and walked away.

“What was that?” Spencer asked.

Oglesby said, “The Shiny Spirits, their name for the Romans, probably due to metal, moved in and displaced the Neoliths, who seem to be called the ‘Gadorth.’ The Romans killed some of the Gadorth, gave orders, and everyone accepts they speak for the spirits. The Romans put them to work, built a shrine to the spirits, and started building stuff, as well as bringing more animals using their magic. Her job is to provide domestic service and sex.”

Spencer half-frowned and said, “Yeah, that’s the Romans.”

“Her name is Uk!isa. She offered sex for us. I tried to thank her generously for the offer, but stated our spirits required us to abstain while traveling. I didn’t want to turn her down.”

Ramon asked, “She wants us to use her?”

“It’s a combination of them thinking of sex as hospitality and a way to spread genes, and the Romans raising that as a useful skill. She thinks that’s her duty.”

Ramon grimaced. “Fuck. I want pussy as much as the next man, but not like that.”

Oglesby said, “Yeah, and I’m not ready to bang her in front of you guys.”

Spencer replied, “Besides, I’m senior, so you’d be getting thirds.”

It took Ramon a moment to catch it as a joke, and Oglesby even longer.

“Anyway,” he continued, “She doesn’t seem terrorized by the Romans, just sort of accepts it as something the spirits have sent, like winter, bad storms or a drought.”

“Where is the Roman camp?”

“They took over another Urushu village. It’s farther downstream.”

“Okay. I guess we need to go there.” He frowned. “I hope there aren’t too many of them.”

Ramon shifted.

“Next problem,” he said. “I gotta piss.”

“Yeah, we’ll cover you. Leave your weapon here. Looks like they’re using that tree for urine.”

“Hooah.”

He felt very exposed, unarmed without backup, walking across the dusky, drizzly compound and approaching the tree. A couple of people’s eyes followed him, but no one tried to hinder him. He took care of business, buttoned up and headed back, and what were they going to do in the morning when they needed to dump?

The dogs were surprisingly well trained, and didn’t bark at him, now that he was inside the perimeter. Smart dogs. Very handsome. He wondered if they could trade for a couple of those. They’d help with hunting and might make good herders.

After dinner, the centurion came back over with the serving girl. She made introduction, then bowed out. They stepped outside, nodded all around, and managed through some pidgin Latin/Spanish/English.

The conversation went approximately:

“What brings you here?”

“Exploring the area to learn where other groups are.”

“For conquest?”

Spencer said, “Tell him ‘No, just trade. Our tools are sufficient we don’t need to conquer.’ Make it sound boring and uninteresting.”

“The optio said your banduka are even better than the Indians’?”

“They are. We are from about five centuries past them, and our alchemy and metalwork are much more advanced.”

“What do you offer to trade?”

Spencer said, “Tell them we can help improve their iron and medicine, as well as making much stronger wine.”

The Roman grinned. “Stronger wine will be what the pilus prior is interested in.”

“Noted. Though we can make much stronger iron.”

“We have enough to rule these barbarians.” He waved dismissively. “It’s Roman iron that does that.” Ramon added, “Sergeant, I think he means their mettle and discipline in that context.”

Oglesby said, “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Tell him I believe him. Our discipline is a direct line from his Rome’s.”

He came back with, “You don’t like the woman?”

“She’s fine, but that’s not what we’re here for. We do appreciate your hospitality, and she was very agreeable in spirit.”

“Good, then. She was the most . . . pliable. Some of the others took persuading.” Ramon translated that back and added, “I think that’s what he said.”

Spencer said, “I hope he drops this thread soon. God, I need a coffee and a beer to calm me down. Or some of that native pot.”

Ramon asked, “
Podemos imponer por un poco de vino? y habra yerba para fumar?
” He pantomimed what he meant.

The centurion seemed to grasp it. “Heh. Sure, I’ll send some over. Make sure the guard sees you if you need to piss in the middle of the night.”

“Will do. Thanks for your hospitality.”

“We’ll be watching you, too.”

“Of course.”

After the man left, Ortiz sighed, stretched, and realized how tense he was.