Milo shrugged and poured himself another cup of the spearmint tea. “You’re right, of course, Ehstrah … but only partially. Yes, it is important that Bettylou Hanson learn of us and our ways, but it is equally important that you, who will be her mentor, learn of her people, their customs and her background.
“As for you poor, poor overworked and underappreciated women—the three of you—you have only yourselves, one man and his gear and an average-sized yurt to care for. Do you seriously expect me to feel sorry for you three racks of lazybones? Just look around you and consider how many clanswomen make out alone or with only a slave woman in doing the work necessary for a husband and a gaggle of children. Be happy, woman, with the good things you have!”
Setting down his cup, Milo drew from out his belt pouch an ancient and battered meerschaum pipe and a bladder of dark shreds of tobacco. Careful to not drop a crumb of the infinitely precious stuff (it was available only from those rare, intrepid traders who occasionally ventured out onto the prairie from the east or by being traded from clan to clan up from the southeast), he packed the pipe, then lit a splinter in the coals beneath the brazier and puffed the filled pipe into life.
Ehstrah had never developed a taste for tobacco. She filled her own carven wooden pipe with dried basil leaves, lit it and dutifully listened as Milo went on with his recountal.
“I stated that the folk who came before never had a really homogeneous society, Ehstrah. One of the reasons that they did not have such was the matter of religions.”
“They did not reverence Sun and Wind, then, Milo?” She wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement.
“No, they were none of them so wise, my dear. They were saddled from birth to death with a great greedy horde of priests or those who claimed to serve and speak for a god—the best of these were deluded fools, the worst were liars hypocrites or charlatans of the basest sort, serving nothing and no one save their own acquisitive natures and endlessly clawing toward wealth and power over the lives and purses of those who foolishly put faith in them and the fables they spun.
“The majority of those precursors called themselves by the name of “Christians.” Their religion was called “Christianity.” but even it was not a single entity, rather was it divided and redivided into a good dozen major and many scores of minor sects, most of them claiming to be the only true sect, Moreover, most of these sects were constantly denigrating all other sects, nor were they at all averse to beating, maiming, torturing, burning, raping or killing in the vain attempt to prove the absurd claims that they mouthed. And these were the older, larger, better-organized and better-led sects, mind you.
“There were a host of other, smaller, even more fanatic sects. Certain of these were groups of out—and-out lunatics—in the cases of their leaders if not in the cases of the followers. Most of these smaller sects, though eccentric in speech and deed, hurt no one save their own members, but a few were blatantly sociopathic, practicing exceedingly perverted versions of the religion they claimed to honor.
“In self-defense, the folk among whom these smaller sects dwelt sometimes found it necessary to drive these antisocial groups out of their land entirely, or at the least away from the larger centers of population. It is from such a group that the folk of the Hanson girl are descended.
“Due to this fact, Ehstrah, because of the maniacal mores her people practice and pass on, you and the others must be very patient with Bettylou. She has been taught to believe that she is nothing less than the very wellspring of evil.”
“Evil? That girl?” snapped Ehstrah. “Tell me that you’re joking. Milo. Lunatics they must indeed be, and malicious to boot, to teach such arrant nonsense to a pretty girl.”
Milo shrugged. “They only pass on what they themselves were taught. The legends of the very beginning of their religion are very misogynistic, placing the blame for all the miseries of mankind on the supposed first woman and her sexuality.”
Ehstrah rocked back on her heels, laughing gustily. “And what of the sexuality of the first man, eh? A woman can’t do it alone, you know! Had it not been for that first randy bastard, there’d have been no second man or woman or generation. I never heard of adult men and women believing, living by, such utter rubbish. They sound so stupid as to need to have someone lead them in out of the rain. Can’t any of them think for themselves, reason for themselves? Men are men and women are women, male is male and female is female, there are good and bad of both sexes, but no babe is born bad, not of either sex, and no legend no matter how hoary or hallowed is going to make such a supposition so!”
“Nonetheless, Ehstrah, this is just what Bettylou firmly believes, it is all she ever has known. She further believes that were she not basically evil, she would not have conceived of the old goat of a priest—‘Elder’ is his title—who has been swiving her periodically since her puberty.”
Ehstrah nodded, her mouth now a firm line of resolution.
“Well, it’s high time that this Hansuhn girl began to learn some hard truths, began to learn to think for herself.”
Milo smiled. “You’re definitely the one for that job, my dear. Just pass on enough of all I’ve told you to Gahbee and Ilsah that they’ll not deem Bettylou a half-wit, eh.”
Bettylou Hanson awakened to find a rythmically breathing little bundle of russet fur pressed tightly against her breasts and upper belly. For a brief moment, she was frightened, then, when she had risen sufficiently to prop up on an elbow, she could discern that the bundle was but a soundly sleeping cat of some sort.
Her movement awakened the cat, and it first sat up and yawned cavernously, curling a long, wide, red-pink tongue from out a mouth well equipped with a full set of sparkling-white teeth and needle-pointed fangs. Although the creature was every bit as large as a smallish adult bobcat, the fact that its paws and head were oversized for its sturdy (verging on chubby) body led Bettylou to assume that it was possibly a cub of one of the huge felines such as had accompanied the clansmen on their raid.
After stretching thoroughly, forward and backward, the cat plumped down and began to wash its face, now and then taking a lick at its thick chest fur.
Bettylou had always been intensely fond of small animals—puppies, the kittens of barn cats, baby rabbits, kids, lambs and the like—so it was a natural, unconscious act to reach out a hand and stroke the soft, dense fur along the cat’s spine.
The deep, audible purr was expected, the strong mindspeak beam was not, and Bettylou started until her memory of the last few days reassured her that she was not hallucinating.
“Killer-of-all likes you, two-leg female, so he will not kill you. Besides, you are nice to sleep with; you do not roll and thrash about as do so many of your kind. Give this cat some of those wet curds from the bucket, up there, now.”
There were no other humans about and the feline beamed a gnawing hunger equal to Bettylous own, so she arose, picked up a brace of bowls and, using one for a scoop, filled the other with the fresh curds and set it down before the cat, who set to with purpose. She filled the second for herself, found a wooden spoon and began to eat.
Then she almost dropped both bowl and spoon when one of the two younger of Milo’s wives stepped over the high sill of the door and entered … stark naked, save only for her low, felt boots.
“So, you finally woke up, did you?” said the nude woman, with a warm, infectious smile. “Gahbee and I were wondering whether or not we should start to build a pyre for your body.” Then she caught sight of the cat crouched growling softly before the bowl of curds.