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From: [e-mail] (Alan Schwartz)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY: Riverworld, Chapter 2: Around the Campfire
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Date: 13 Oct 1995 10:49:32 -0400
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Riverworld Turn #2: Around the Campfire
Day 30

As the group gathered around the fire, each thought back on the
events of the late afternoon.

            *   *   *   *

As the day wore on, the olive-skinned woman had risen from where she had
spent most of the day and began to stroll around the area. Walking
slowly she stretched her arms, and shook the kinks from her legs. She
came upon one of Shaka's spears, picked it up, and examined it
carefully.

George had approached, and, pointing to himself, said "George". He
repeated his motions and speech again, and the woman echoed "George",
and placed her fingertips momentarily on his forehead, as if in
blessing. He retreated, looking somewhat bemused.

Florence motioned to the olive-skinned woman once George left,
and after several minutes sitting in silence, the woman spoke to
Florence in a low, clear tone, her eyes on the western horizon.

George, still lingering nearby, overheard the conversation, and was
surprised to find that he understood it.

Woman: "You speak many languages."

Florence nodded.

Florence: "I am fortunate to be able to. And I see that you can speak
       Latin, at which I am very pleased. I am Florence. What are
       you called?"

The woman ignored the question for several minutes, during which
Florence waited patiently in silence. Finally, she raised her chin a
tad and spoke.

Cleopatra: "I am, Cleopatra VII, Thea Philopater, daughter of Re."

Florence nodded again.

Florence: "I am pleased to meet you. Perhaps we should rejoin the
       others. I will respect your silence until you ask me
       to tell them your name."

After a day of watching the river, gathering her thoughts, and sampling
the marijuana stick, Maria had climbed down from the hill, invigorated
and flushed. Her reddish eyes and cheeks displayed little crinkles as
she smiled.

Glenn had spent the afternoon attempting to duplicate Shaka's creation
of a writing implement. Cutting a few different lengths of bamboo, he
applied his firelighter to their tips and soon had a number of
serviceable charcoal "pencils". Seeing Maria return from the hill, he
addressed her in English.

Glenn: "Ma'am, might I ask where you got the bark?  I'd like to do
        some writing myself. Without a real instrument here, it's the
        best I can do."

Maria: "There's English oak or something like it in those
        foothills."

Glenn: "Thank you, Ma'am."

Maria: "Maria." She smiles.

Glenn: "Maria." He returns her smile.

After his discussion with Maria, Glenn strode off into hills and
returned with strips of bark. He spent the remainder of the afternoon
jotting on the bark with his bamboo, humming continuously.

            *   *   *   *

Darkness began to fall in the glade, and the group clustered together
in a circle around the fire as they arrived. Charles, Shaka, Florence,
and the olive-skinned woman took up positions on the north, south, east,
and west of the fire, and others filled in the open spaces between them.

Glenn walked up to George as he was striding toward the fire, and
tried to strike up a conversation.

Glenn: "I'm embarrassed to say, sir, that I don't recognize you,
        though we seem to be from the same time period."

George: "Nor I you. What a pity."

Josephine strode up to the two, smiling broadly.

Josephine: "But George did recognize me, I'm happy to say. And I'd
        love to know more about you, Glenn, since you obviously
        share my tender feelings for song. Though I preferred the
        contemporary music of my time."

She spoke more loudly in French.

Josephine approached the two men and joined them, smiling broadly.
Speaking French quietly at first, she soon raised her voice.

Josephine: "Ahhh yes.. The '20's! Those were days the likes of which
            the world will never see again. Touring the continent,
            swarms of adoring fans, ah yes...  I remember those days
            well."

She half smiled and looked down at her body,

Josephine: "Perhaps it is the form that guides the memories"

She smiled wistfully.

Finally, the whole group sat around the fire in the waxing darkness of
the Riverworld. The stars shone brightly and the glow of the firelight
lit up the faces of the assembled resurrectees.

Shaka chewed his dreamgum, looking at those around him.  His eyes
closed slightly and he began to breathe more deeply.  Holding his
spear in one hand, he walked to the center of the group now assembled,
and stood facing the beautiful olive-skinned woman on the west side of
the fire.

Raising his arms above his head, holding the spear high above him, he
gave a yell of surprising volume.  He then began speaking and
motioning and dancing in a way unfamiliar to the others.  Despite
his unintelligible language, the subject of his message was clear,
as the words "Shaka" and "Zulu" seemed to be in every breath.

As the others watched, Shaka performed a bizarre combination
biography, pantomime, and language lesson all wrapped into one.  His
motions seemed to indicate that his language was called Bantu, or
Zulu.

During Shaka's oratory, Maria's eyes lit with fire. Listening
attentively, she scribbled on her bark with the charcoal pen. Every
now and then, she brought the tip to the fire to darken the "ink". She
looked fascinated and moved by the oration, and Shaka, noticing her
concentration, seemed to nod approvingly for a moment.

The others strove to follow his story, and managed to make sense of
some of it. It seemed to deal a great deal with warfare and
self-praise. As the story wound down, it became less violent, and more
regal.  His voice took on another tone, as though he were describing
that there were monsters all around him, then suddenly he cried out
loudly, and fell to his knees. He held his stomach and shook a fist
angrily at some unseen participant in his mysterious tale.  Then he
fell to the ground, weeping openly.

After a moment, he stood, and recited what sounded like a solemn poem,
then gestured at the fireside circle and the Rivervalley with a look
of puzzlement, as if to say "And then I awoke here."

At then end of Shaka's performance, Charles opened his Grail and took
out five cigarettes.  Looking at Shaka, Charles bowed low, from the
waist. He then sank to one knee and gently placed the cigarettes on
the ground in front of the nobleman from the dark land. Bowing once
more, he returned to his place by the fire.

During Shaka's enactment, the olive-skinned woman sat motionless at
the edge of the fire's light, her features sometimes obscured by the
dance of the flames. As his tale unfolded, her face became more and
more devoid of emotion. Her whitening lips and the clenching of her
fists during the last seconds of the warrior's tale, however, belied
her apparent nonchalance.

The tale complete, Shaka walked over to the olive-skinned woman, and
began talking to her and making motions both unusually suggestive and
surprisingly not vulgar.  Her eyes rose to meet his as he
approached. She slowly uncurled and rose to her feet. Holding out her
hand, she led him out of the firelight into the surrounding darkness.
The sounds from beyond the glade rose, at first quietly, and then more
loudly.

Anxious to distract himself and the others, Charles stood, and stepped
forward into the circle.  He turned around and looked at all of his
companions. Clearing his throat, he adjusted his towel-cloth, and
moved to stand at the highest point beside the fire.
He looked at Florence, who nodded and began to translate his words
for the others.

Charles: "I am Charles of Aachen.  I am a Christian. When I was back
          home..  before I died.... I was the Ruler of the great
          Frankish empire. From what I have been told, I was born
          around 732 Anno Domini.  My father, Pippin, was a great
          leader and taught me well.  Upon his ascent to Heaven, he
          named my brother and I to guard the land.  My brother died
          of Fever some few years later, and the rule of the whole
          land fell to me. I did my best."

George smiled quietly to himself.

Charles bowed his head briefly before continuing.

Charles: "Most of my life, I spent trying to unify the diverse lands
          and tribes of what I learn you call central Europe.  The
          wars were numerous and constant, but I and my people
          persevered.  My court at Aachen became reknown for its
          schools, and literacy and art.  I myself tried to learn as
          much as I could from scholars and thinkers I help to
          assemble."

Charles looked around, and then spoke more softly.

Charles: "You all remind me of some of the people of my court."

He fell silent for a moment or two, then continued.

Charles: "With the help and guidance of God and Holy Church in Rome, I
          spent my life bringing Christianity to heathens, glorifying
          God and the Church, to bring law, order and enlightenment to
          most of the lands of Europe.

Jeanne listened to the stories with a growing sense of bewilderment
apparent on her face. She seemed more interested in Charles' tale than
Shaka's, as she chewed slowly on her dreamgum.

Charles looked around at the people before him, bowed formally, and
sat down. Florence smiled, and, speaking to him, voiced the feelings
of the entire group.

Florence: "Sir Charles, I know not why this group has been brought
           here together, but as we have found ourselves here, it
           would seem prudent to devise shelter in an appropriate
           place, and to discuss how we might protect ourselves.  Who
           knows what dangers this life holds?  I am afraid I have
           little memory of my previous life here, and know not what
           to expect in the days to come.  It would benefit us to work
           together in common purpose."

Glenn nodded, as if one of his private thoughts had become public.

Glenn: "So you as well have no memory of your last resurrection."

Maria looked at Glenn searchingly.

Maria: "I am searching for my husband, Percy, who died some years
        before I. I am sure he is searching for me as well, for we
        agreed that we would try to contact one another in the
        afterlife. On earth, we would smoke opium before we wrote, and
        I'd hoped to induce a similar trance with the marijuana so I
        might contact his soul or summon his spectre. I have not tried
        the dreamgum yet -- it appears to have strong powers."

Maria: "Your humming was the first thing I heard when I awoke. Music
        too has spirit powers, and a musician might be more in touch
        with them than I. What do you make of this predicament in
        which we all partake?  O have been trying to discern if all
        this is merely a dream or if we really exist in the
        flesh. Surely our earthly bodies have decomposed, eaten by
        maggots, and our spirits have traveled to some ethereal
        plane."

Glenn: "Why are we here? That's the question.  After all, I somehow
        doubt this has happened by chance. Not if it's so seldom none
        of us have heard of it.  Now, we have three differences, at
        least, that I can see.  First, we are a mixture, rather than
        some orderly chord of humanity that normally ends up together.
        Second, we needed to move from where we were, in order to find
        sustenance. We needed to move, rather than remain in one
        place.  Thus, we have a combination: Different themes, and a
        rhythm to drive them.  Third, none of us are nobodies.  By
        rights, at least one of us should be.  Thus, when there is not
        one, not two, but three such strands, it's clear that this
        isn't chance, but deliberation.  Somewhere there's a fourth
        voice to this fugue, that someone else is playing.  The only
        question is what?"

Suddenly, Jeanne stiffened, her eyes flying wide open. Scrambling back
from the campfire, she stumbled to her feet, and began tearing at the
towels which clothed her. With a piercing shriek she bolted from the
circle of firelight, and ran toward the River, plunging headlong into
it with a loud splash.

Almost instantly, Josephine had leapt to her feet, and chased after
the young French woman. A second splash signaled her dive into the
water after Jeanne.

Florence, too, followed Jeanne to the River, and stood on the bank,
watching Josephine anxiously.

Glenn: "Well, there's no use all of use going. Josephine is a fine
        swimmer, and Miss Nightingale is a nurse."

George, Charles, and Maria nodded, and sat silently around the fire for
a while, waiting for the women to return. The rustling of the bamboo
was understandably attributed to Shaka and the olive-skinned woman,
and so the group was surprised to find themselves surrounded by men
with flint-tipped spears.

The strangers spoke in an unrecognizable language, but their
intentions were clear. While the other members of the group stood up,
watched warily by the intruders, George sprang from his fireside
position, brandishing a burning bamboo rod that he drew from the
center of the fire. Yelling incoherently, he swung his weapon toward
the nearest assailant, and knocked the man down. He had turned to face
the man next to him when an arrow pierced his throat.  Maria gasped as
the bowmen, hidden in the bamboo, came into view, and, looking at
Glenn and Charles, trained their bows on Maria. Grimacing, the three
allowed themselves to be disarmed and have their hands bound behind
them with towels. The men led them through the inland darkness
upstream beyond the lands of their peaceful Chinese neighbors. They
passed through a high bamboo fence and entered an armed compound.
The men and women were separated by the guards, and taken away.

Shaka and the olive-skinned woman, though unable to speak one
another's language nonetheless managed to communicate quite
well. During their second prolonged conversation, the rustling sounds
of the grass in which they lay was joined by the rustling sounds of
bowmen and spearmen who surrounded them, chuckling and leering at the
woman, upon whom they trained their bows. Shaka reluctantly stood and
allowed his hands to be bound behind his back. He watched them bind
the woman's hands as well, and then a sharp blow to the head rendered
him unconscious.

The woman followed the intruders, her head held almost arrogantly, as they
picked up Shaka and, carrying him, led her upstream to a bamboo-walled
compound. Inside the compound, Shaka was carried off away from her and
she was taken to one of a number of bamboo cages. In the cell beyond
her was Maria.

Maria found herself in a bamboo cell, one of a number of cages erected
near the fortress wall. After a few minutes, the olive-skinned woman
was deposited in the neighboring cell.

Glenn and Charles were brought to a series of sturdy bamboo cells near
the middle of the compound, and thrown into separate cages. Men
with cruel faces half visible in the darkness guarded them, stepping
aside once to allow a troop of bowmen to throw the unconscious body of
Shaka into a cell near theirs. A sigh arose from a cell behind theirs,
and they turned to see a strong-looking man who spoke in English,
naming himself Tjar. He and Glenn spoke with one another, while Shaka
returned to consciousness.

Tjar: "I don't know if either of you can speak English, but I'm sorry
       to meet you under these circumstances."

Glenn: "Yes, I can speak English. I'm Glenn. This is Charles, and the
        man on the floor is Shaka. Where are we?"

Tjar: "The blissful realm of Temuchin, who seems intent on extending
       it up and down the River. Welcome to grail-slavery."

Shaka awoke with a pounding headache, and frowned deeply at his
imprisonment. The sight of the bamboo cage did nothing for his temperment.
He exchanged nods with Glenn and Charles, imprisoned in neighboring
cells. Glenn was speaking with another prisoner, who pointed to
himself and said "Tjar".

As Maria and the olive-skinned woman looked at one another, a voice
from the cell beyond Maria spoke, greeting them in Latin and naming
herself Hypatia. She too, seemed to be recently captured by the men,
and confused about their status.

The guards barked out an order at the prisoners, who fell silent,
thinking their private thoughts until the sun rose.

Out on the river, Josephine's powerful dive into the water quickly
brought her close to Jeanne, who was thrashing about and clenching her
teeth. Josephine pulled her back to the bank of the River, and, with
Florence, wrapped her in a towel and spoke comfortingly. The women sat
holding Jeanne for some time until the wildness left her eyes and her
teeth unclenched. She wept silently.

Jeanne: "Pardonnez-moi. I am so sorry. I.."

Josephine: "There, there, honey. Nothing to worry about now."

Florence: "Though I think we'd better return to the fire. The others
           must be worried about us by now."

They hiked back to their bamboo glade, and found George's body,
pierced through the throat by a flint-tipped arrow. Signs of a
struggle lay about him, but there was no sight of the others, or of
Shaka and the olive-skinned woman. A trail of flattened grass seemed
to lead upstream. The women looked at one another with concern as the
first fires of dawn burst over the mountains.