The Inheritance Paradox
Eighteen (Eugene’s Story)
“WE NEED A LONG KNIFE for our son,” Eugene said, patting Alex on the shoulder.
“So, you have one on your belt,” the smith replied.
“Protecting one should not endanger another,” Eugene said.
“Well-spoken. I might have such a blade as you require if you can pay for it.”
“I’ve traded some furs and skins in town and have a few of your silver coins,” Eugene said, holding out three silver coins.
“Not much in the way of furs, were they?” the smith said, taking the coins.
Eugene had decided before he went into the smithy how much he would be willing to pay for the blade. The smith waited for a response, but not receiving any, he turned to find a blade about sixteen inches long.
“No hilt?”
“I make blades, not handcrafts,” the smith replied. “Surely, you can find materials to make a hilt to fit the boy’s hand.”
“No doubt.”
Eugene handed the blade to Alex to get his approval of the weight. It was difficult to hold effectively with just the metal shaft, but Alex smiled broadly. They left the smithy and Eugene helped Val negotiate for some supplies for their journey. Their foodstuffs had been completely depleted during the journey so far and they didn’t know how far they would need to travel before finding a place to settle.
They packed their saddlebags with everything they would need when they departed the next day. The stableboy had found flat saddles for Strength and Lightning. Val instructed that Shadow have a pack saddle and determined she would continue to ride in front of Eugene on Strength. Their bond had become much stronger after three nights of lovemaking. The saddles were little more than a leather seat strapped to the horse. With stirrups, however, they were much more stable. On the fourth day, they ended their honeymoon and headed north from the crossroads.
Sitting ducks. You’re sure to be followed.
Eugene had the feeling they’d been watched and someone would follow them. A mile north of the crossroads, they guided the horses off into the woods and did their best to not leave a trail. Eugene was certain an experienced tracker would spot it immediately, though.
They were scarcely a hundred yards off the road when they heard horse hooves approach and then pass where they’d turned off. Eugene dismounted and sent Val and Alex on along a game trail, promising to catch up with them at nightfall.
“Alex, you have a knife. The hilt is only wrapped in a rag at the moment, but it will help with your grip. When we skin another animal, we’ll make a proper grip. For now, though, it is what you have to protect your mother. Don’t draw it unless you intend to use it.”
“Yes, Father.”
Eugene smiled, kissed Val, and sent them on. He’d been called ‘Father’ for the first time in his life. He liked the sound of it, even though Alex wasn’t his biological son.
Don’t get distracted. This is a bad idea. You aren’t an accomplished swordsman.
“If they catch up with us, they’ll kill me and rape Val. Then probably kill her and Alex, too. We have a better chance if I ambush them.”
True. Are you capable of this? Swords are not the same as baseball bats.
“Hush and help me listen for them.”
It was several minutes later when he heard the horses returning at a slower pace, looking for where they had lost the trail.
“They won’t go fast through this,” one said. “This is certainly where they turned off the road.”
“Let’s tie the horses and go on foot,” said an older voice. “We’ll come around them from either side. You take the right and I’ll take the left.”
“I’ll find them. That woman looks like a fine catch.”
“Take care of business first. Kill the man and the boy. He had a good sword and they bought a lot of supplies. Three new horses and a woman will be a good haul.”
At least they’re more equal on foot than on horseback.
Eugene moved farther off the thin trail left by his family and hunkered down to wait.
The highwaymen were not quiet trackers. They couldn’t have made more noise if they’d ridden the horses. Eugene made up his mind. There would be no time nor any point in trying to talk to them. He drew his weapons.
A branch snapped just to Eugene’s left and he sprang toward the sound, leading with his sword. He’d pierced the man before he fully saw him. The thief cried out, but the cry was quickly silenced as Eugene sliced across his throat. He quickly moved a few steps farther on as he heard the other man crashing through the underbrush.
“Sammy? Do you have them, boy?”
The second thief stopped when he saw the body.
“Sammy, my boy! No! They caught and killed you! I’ll find them and take you back to your Ma for burial. Their bodies will rot in the wilderness.”
The older man turned and ran directly into Eugene’s knife. He didn’t have time to draw his sword, but fell with his body across his son’s.
Brutal.
“He was just a boy. Maybe twice Alex’s age. If somehow I avoided hell for my other sins, I shall rot there for this,” Eugene spat.
You should strip the bodies and take the horses.
“They have nothing I want. If their horses are spotted by some traveler, their bodies may be found and given a decent burial,” Eugene said.
How very twentieth century of you.
Eugene wiped and sheathed his blades and moved back to the game trail Val and Alex were traveling. As he walked, following the clear trail, he silently wept for the father and son he’d slain.
It was after dark when he finally stumbled upon Alex and Val’s quiet campsite. The horses were tethered nearby and were still saddled and packed. Alex and Val sat on either side of them with blankets pulled around their shoulders. They started when Eugene broke the silence by softly calling their names.
Alex had his blade lying across his lap and swung to point it at Eugene before he realized who it was. He was far enough away not to hurt anyone. Val quickly hid a kitchen knife she’d bartered at the inn for. She jumped up and ran to him.
“Are we safe?” she asked when he caught her in his arms. Alex was quickly caught in the embrace as well.
“For now. We should rise early and put as many miles behind us as possible,” Eugene said.
“Do we need to retrace our steps to the road?” Alex asked.
“I don’t think so. We’ve continued to head mostly northward. This game trail is less likely to lead to any other people, but after we’ve moved farther north, we’ll begin to work our way back toward the west and the road,” Eugene said.
“Come and eat some jerky. You haven’t had food all day,” Val said.
“Yes, my love. Let us all sleep tightly together as we did before the inn. No one will be tracking us tonight.”
The path led them into more mountainous terrain.
“We’ll work on the hilt of your sword tonight,” Eugene told Alex when they camped.
They built a small fire and heated some of their supplies for dinner. Eugene had snared a rabbit before dinner and skinned it, giving the meat to Val to cook into their stew.
Then he cut a length of branch a little thicker than his thumb and the length of the hilt. He carefully shaped the stick to fit Alex’s hand. He gave it to the boy with instructions to rub it smooth with a bit of sandstone they found near the river. Then Eugene set about scraping the fur from the rabbit skin and rubbing the skin smooth on both sides. Rabbit skin was considerably thinner than rawhide, but Eugene figured it would be okay when wrapped in layers.
They finished for that night, satisfied with their work. Eugene told stories of all the lands that lay west of where they were. And he said that there was a great sea in the west that was too vast to go around, but that one day people would sail across it to find the land where he was from. He said one day many generations from then, his descendants and Alex’s descendants would find their way across the sea to the Westland.
Alex slept that night with stars in his eyes and visions of the magical land of Eugene.
“You are such a wonderful father, Eugene,” Val said. “Our children will be blessed.”
“Our children?”
“I am sure I have conceived. We should find a place to settle soon.”
She definitely has and you definitely should.
“I believe I am in love with you,” Eugene said, holding her tenderly.
They continued to travel, and Alex soon had a hilt for his knife that had been a split piece of wood wrapped tightly in wet skin that dried to fit his hand perfectly. Eugene began working with him on his swordsmanship skills with the new long knife.
Before long—time meant little to them—they descended from the mountains and into a forest before the terrain transitioned again onto a coastal plain It appeared they had rounded the northern end of the sea.
That would mean Italy.
“This is probably far enough for us to look for a place to settle. It’s fairly civilized, even in this day and age,” Eugene said.
“Is our day and age generally so barbaric?” Val asked, thinking he’d spoken to her.
“That’s not precisely what I meant,” Eugene backpedaled. “Every age has its own civilization. In the next two hundred years, this area and southwest of here will become the most intellectually and creatively vibrant area the world has ever known. And thus, every age outshines the one before.”
“And your ‘age’ is so far beyond ours it must be like living in the sun.”
“If only I could tell you. Such things are beyond my ability to explain.”
Not to mention it could more seriously mess up the timeline than you teaching Val about cunnilingus.
“And probably above our ability to understand.”
“I will tell you more stories. What we need to do now, however, is find a place to settle,” Eugene said.
The next village had an inn and seemed to be a bit larger than the last one they had stopped at. The language was unfamiliar to Val, but Galahad informed Eugene it was a dialect of Italian called Veneto, but was still closer to the languages of the Slavic countries they had just come through than to the Italian of southern Italy. All of which Eugene considered very interesting, but mostly irrelevant until they could actually all speak the language.
The inn they stayed at tested their coins for value and gave them a good room with baths on their first night and meals for three days. During that time, Eugene and Val renewed their conjugal relationship, which had been limited on the road.
They inquired about longer term lodging and work in several places, finally being directed to a farmhouse on the outskirts of the village. There they found an old woman.
“You look like honorable people,” she said, squinting at the family.
“We have had to travel far from our home,” Eugene said. “It was in the east and we were driven out by Saracens.”
“Godless heathens,” the old woman spat.
Eugene grimaced because he knew the statement was untrue, but they needed a place to settle down.
“We would be willing to work as hard as we are able in exchange for lodging and food,” Eugene said.
“I have plenty of work. My husband passed a year gone now. Even when he was alive, the farm was going to seed. Our son joined the crusade and I haven’t heard from him in ten years. Mind you, he could return one day, but I’ve my doubts. No one returns from the crusades. Not the same,” she said.
“I’m sorry for your losses,” Eugene said after translating for Val and Alex.
“Well, there are two rooms you can have. One for the two of you and one for the children. I can see you will be bearing by winter. Do what you can to repair the buildings and get a crop from the fields. I’ve not much left in the larder, but I’ll fix some soup for dinner.”
“Mother, please let us care for you. I am able to cook and clean while Eugene and Alex work outside,” Val said. Eugene translated.
“I’ve forgotten what it was like to have a daughter,” the old woman sniffed.
They went to work. Eugene had Alex begin by picking up fallen wood from the trees around the property, stacking it in a pile so they could cut it for the fireplace. It would be cold in a few months and they would need a good supply of wood. Eugene himself inspected the little house and made repairs to the roof where some areas had fallen in completely. He fixed new shutters for the windows and cut the weeds from nearest the house. He found the barn in reasonable condition and stabled the horses there. There were a plow and harrow in the barn that he would use soon.
It was a little late in the season to be planting salable crops, but he would be able to get seedlings for a good garden going that would supplement their food for the winter. He spent time each day exercising with Alex and then working on the farm to till the soil and plant crops. Strength did not like the plow and harrow, but he obeyed the command and pulled them. Eugene gave the stallion breaks by harnessing Shadow to the lighter implement to smooth the plowed ground.
Eugene went hunting regularly on the little farm’s land, snaring mostly rabbits, but also once managing to lie in wait for a stag. Val smoked the meat they didn’t eat at once and proved she was more than capable in the kitchen as a cook, baker, and roaster. In no time, the house was looking neat and orderly, well-swept and dusted. Widow Solace, as they learned to call their hostess, grew to appreciate the little family and shared her tips on childbirth with Val.
By fall, it was obvious that Val was pregnant, but so was Shadow.
At first snowfall, Eugene and Alex did their morning training exercises and then mounted Strength and Lightning to go into the woods hunting. Eugene had acquired a crossbow and they decided to go after a deer. More meat for the smoker was a high priority now that the vegetables had all been stored in the root cellar. That was something Val and Widow Solace knew much more about than Eugene. The widow had recovered much of her vitality now that she was not alone and was happily anticipating the arrival of ‘her’ grandchild. When Val had become her daughter, exactly, none of them could tell.
As they rode into the woods, Eugene and Alex talked quietly. They looked for tracks that would indicate the presence of their prey.
“Will I go to the Westland one day?” Alex asked.
“I doubt it. So far as I know, no one goes to the Westland for another two hundred years or more,” Eugene answered.
“I want to go now.”
“I wish I could take you with me when I’m called home,” Eugene answered. “Just raise your children to know that one day they can go. Each generation can move farther west. One day they will come to the great ocean and from there they will be able to find a boat to the Westland.”
“Look, tracks,” Alex whispered.
“Then this is where we leave the horses and continue on foot,” Eugene said. “When I shoot the deer and it falls, go forward and slit its throat so it doesn’t suffer.”
That’s not wise.
They tied their horses and quietly followed the tracks forward. The woodland was very still. In about a hundred yards, they saw a young stag browsing on juniper bushes. Eugene motioned to Alex for silence and raised his bow. He stepped forward another few feet to get a clearer shot. Then he released the arrow.
The deer staggered forward a step and then dropped to the ground. Alex was off like a shot to give the coup de grâce, though Eugene could see the deer was already dead. Then the unthinkable happened. Alex tripped and fell on his blade.
Eugene dropped the bow and ran to his son. He rolled him over and discovered a deep cut on his upper arm, bleeding profusely.
“Father! I’m bleeding!” The boy passed out.
Cut his sleeve off and tie a tourniquet above the wound.
“Keep talking. I’ve got the tourniquet in place.”
Clean the wound.
“With what?”
With your tongue.
“That isn’t sanitary.”
Your saliva carries the cells that have healing power. You’ll transfer your saliva cells into his body.
“If you say so.”
I know more about medicine than I do about time travel.
Eugene licked the blood from the wound and when the bleeding had slowed, he dripped saliva into the wound.
Blood would be better.
“What?”
Make a small cut on your hand and drip the blood into the wound.
“Oh, God.”
Eugene made a cut on his hand and dripped his blood into the wound.
Put your cut against his lips so he gets it in his mouth and swallows it. Remember, we’re looking for the maximum transfer of genetic material.
Eugene was a little sick doing this, but managed to hold his bleeding hand against his son’s mouth until Alex swallowed. By then Eugene’s bleeding had slowed to nearly a stop.
“We can’t just leave the tourniquet on indefinitely.”
No. The stag was munching on juniper. Scrape sap from the trees and pack it onto the wound.
“Juniper sap?”
Remarkably effective.
Eugene jammed a twig into the knot of the tourniquet so it wouldn’t loosen and got to the juniper branches that still had sap clinging to them. He scraped it off with his knife until he had a sticky mess in his hand. He took this to Alex and began packing it onto the wound until it was well sealed.
Before you release the tourniquet, cut a strip of the deer’s hide and wrap the wound and around the arm. Not as tightly as the tourniquet, but enough to hold the packing in place.
Eugene could finally see the sense in Galahad’s instructions. He’d put a kind of antibiotic in the wound with his saliva and blood. Then he’d put a bandage on it with the sap. Finally, he was holding it all in place with the hide.
Release the tourniquet slowly so the blood pressure builds up gradually. You might need to keep a hand on the hide until you can wrap and tie it with the cloth.
It was a slow process, but finally he had the tourniquet repositioned so it would merely hold the deer hide in place. By this time, Alex was waking up.
“Did I die, Father?” he mumbled.
“No, son. You are alive and just have a bit of a scratch on your arm. I’ve patched it and, in a few days, you’ll be as good as new.”
“Did the deer get away?”
“No. It’s right here where it fell. Now, you sit here beneath the tree for a few minutes while I field dress our dinner. Then I’ll need to drag it to our horses and help you along at the same time.”
“I can help.”
“After we’re ready to transport it. I’ll create a travois and you can ride the deer back to our horses.”
Eugene had dressed out deer enough times in the past six months that he was reasonably efficient at it. When it was gutted, he cut two long saplings and laid smaller branches across them. He used green bark to lash the travois together. Then he loaded the deer on the travois and placed his son on top of it. He picked up the poles and dragged the burden about a quarter of a mile to where he’d tied the horses.
He considered fastening the travois behind Strength to drag, but chose to load the deer on Lightning’s back and lift Alex in front of him on Strength. They headed home with a tale to tell.
I believe you have successfully contaminated his bloodstream with your cells. That should protect against tetanus as well. And with him carrying the cells in his body now, he should be able to pass them on to his children.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
