A Son of the Ages: The Reincarnations and Adventures of Scar, the Link: A Story of Man From the BeginningWaterloo, Stanley
Science
A Son of the Ages: The Reincarnations and Adventures of Scar, the Link: A Story of Man From the Beginning
Waterloo, Stanley
Prehistoric peoples -- Fiction; Science fiction
There were certain clans who had no fixed abode, wandering long
distances and living in huts to be abandoned; but such as these had
become fewer and fewer and now most of the people lived in villages,
some little and some great, but all with broad lands about them, whose
boundaries were marked in many ways, some by scarred trees, sometimes
by stones and sometimes by other tokens. So, as well, were marked the
limits of the hides of lands allotted to each family, and these must by
no means be disregarded, either the village mark, or the limit of the
allotments. He who took an allotment, too, must, in token of possession
and defense, break a branch from some tree upon it, or seat himself
in the midst of the field, or build a fire upon it, for its ownership
was a grave matter and not to be considered lightly. Some tilling the
women did, though we were, as yet, but little farmers, and they also
wove and spun. As for the men, we lived first for the fighting and the
honour, and chiefly next, it seemed to me, for the feasting and deep
drinking, with hunting and fishing and the fashioning of weapons as our
only labour. Great were our feasts and it sometimes happened that they
had more to them than mere carousal, especially when the feast was to
one who had died valiantly in battle. There would be much eating and
drinking, it is true, but there would also be much praise of the dead,
which came generously from great hearts, and earnest prayers that Woden
would receive the hero kindly. It seems to me that it was to our honour
that we did not forget our dead, not even the little ones who passed,
and I recall me that I made and kept for a friend one for whom I had
heretofore cared slightly, because, when his child died, he had buried
in the grave of the little one its foolish playthings and had slain a
dog the child had loved and buried it also, that the dog might show the
helpless and timorous one the way to the country of the dead. Stark and
harsh and rough we were, but, in some things, we were most kindly and
but as children.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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