Wool Road

Wool Road

Barag faced into the icy wind and led his hunters towards the glacier.
The short, cool summer was nearly over and they had to catch at least a
handful of the giant deer before returning south to their families.
Barag knew that the deer were avoiding the small band. The last kill
had scattered the modest herd, most of which moved north into the
blizzard. The hunters would reach the blizzard all too soon; snow and
ice carried by the constant gale which blasted from the top of the
world.
The glacier loomed high above the hunters, its deep blue heart
freezing their emerging humanity. The giant deer had forgotten their
earlier fright. They were grazing on the sparse lichens close to the
glacier wall.
Barag motioned to his comrades. Their well-practised routine took over
from consciousness. Two of the deer fell to the fire hardened points of
their spears.
The women of the group quickly gutted and cleaned the animals before
the carcasses froze, casting aside the heads and larger bones. Only
flesh and fat were to be taken back to the tribe, the bones could be
left for the scavengers. The tribe needed the sustenance of the protein
and the protection of the fat if they were to survive the long winter
through.
Barag had noticed that last year's bone pile was further away from the
glacier than this year's pile. Had the scavengers moved it? He had
never seen such a thing. Perhaps the glacier had moved. He looked at
the ground beneath his fur-clad feet. He could see small, rounded
stones, pressed hard into the clay. Too small for his sling, the stones
were ignored as just one more mystery to be pondered during the long
winter nights ahead.

*****

Augustus watched the centurion approach. Another message from the
Governor he thought.
"Hail, Augustus Aurelius. A message from his worship, the Governor of
Corinium." The centurion handed to the soldier, a slip of deer hide on
which the Governor had written a summons, in his own handwriting.
"Have you read this?" asked Augustus.
"No sir. I cannot read."
"We must do something about that. I can't have my centurions ignorant
of the world's most powerful language."
"Yes sir. Is there a reply for the Governor?"
"Tell him I will come after the games have finished." He turned away
and climbed the outer wall of the amphitheatre to get a good view of
his men sparing in the arena.

"Augustus. How were the games?" The Governor was reclining on a low
couch in front of a roaring fire. He motioned the soldier to join him.
A slave brought a cup of heated wine and a bowl of dried fruit.
Augustus drank some wine before answering.
"Their hearts are not in sparring. They need proper action, but the
locals are too well behaved these days."
"As they should be. We have brought them peace."
"Governor. I am not a busy man these days, but I do have some things
to do before nightfall. Why did you summon me?"
"A matter of protocol. When I last sent you to Londinium, you were not
seen on the road."
"Which road was that, Governor?" The soldier took an handful of
fruit.
"Our road, of course. The perfectly good Roman built road via Spinae
and Calleva. Why did you not use it?"
"I was not aware that I had to use a particular road on your
business."
"My boy. Our road is guarded. The roads you used were not. I am
worried for your safety. You are my only son."
"Father. I have made the whole area safe." The Governor nodded.
"What is the fascination with the peasants' road?"
"It is a very old road. The peasants have been using it for countless
generations. Also, there seem to be places where we can dig up good
quality gravel. This will save our road builders the trouble of
breaking up larger stones."
"But stone breaking is what subdues the locals."
"There are better things for them to do, father."
"I suppose so. Please be careful. I want us both to return home
safely. Think of your mother."
"I do. And my sisters." Augustus raised his cup in salutation.
"Ah. I wish we were back in the warm hills of Rome." The Governor
pulled his thick robe closer to his spare frame and held a hand out to
the fire.
"You are getting soft, father."
"And why not? I fought some real battles in my youth, but times have
changed."
"They have indeed. Have you any news when we will return?"
"I promise you will be the first to know, just so long as I can find
you on our roads."
"Yes Governor. I will take more care."
"Be about your urgent business before it gets dark. What is it
tonight? Some new woman?"
"Father. You have given me all the slaves that I need. I will go to
the source of the Thames and speak with the gods in the hope of
preventing the floods this coming spring."
"Take my statue of Caesar as an offering. It frightens me. It should
impress the gods."
"Thank you Father. Till the morning."
Augustus took his leave and rode into the woods to pray.

*****

"Where did you say you found it?" The Artefact Exchange Officer was
peering very closely at the statuette, turning it over and over under
the magnifying scanner.
"Actually, I didn't say," said the young woman.
"Local was it?"
"Maybe."
"There's a lot of Roman stuff in the fields hereabouts. I just
wondered."
"So you can go and have a dig. Is that it?"
"Not necessarily. Besides, you need the landowner's permission before
you start digging."
"I know that," she said testily.
"It looks genuine Roman. I'd say second century, but the styles do
vary about that time, which makes accurate dating impossible without
other artefacts in the same dig."
"There was absolutely nothing else in the hole."
"Strange. Well there you are. If you want I can send it off for
dating."
"No thanks. I'll hang onto it. Are there any other Exchanges in
Letchlade?"
"No, but you could try the museum in Cirencester."
"I might. Thanks." The young woman picked up her statuette and let
herself out of the premises. The Officer looked through the window and
noted the licence number of her muddy truck as she got into it.
"Must be with that survey crew," he said to himself.

"I've got one probable that it's Roman," she said as she pushed open
the site office door.
"Nothing else in the trench though. We've been through the spoil
again," said the man at the untidy desk.
"Just a one off, then." She sat in a chair.
"Could be. It's happened before. Do you remember that site near
Reading last year?"
"The old gravel pit?"
"Yeah. That seventeenth century tankard. A real find. Nothing else
though."
"We did find the remains of a boot," she reminded him.
"Oh yeah. The boot. Too contaminated to carbon date. Still, quite a
find."
"Where's our next assignment. I want to prepare myself for the next
great find."
The man laughed. He checked the field computer.
"They are planning a survey near Didcot in a couple of months. Do you
want in?"
"Too right. There was a power station there, coal fired I think. Could
be interesting."

*****

The warm spring evening turned into night. Bill turned the mare from
the road into a meadow.
"This'll do us old girl. Bit o' grass for you and peace and quiet for
me." Bill got down from the wagon and unhitched the horse. He
lengthened the rope on her harness and secured it to a bush so she
could feed in a wide area. He rummaged between the bales of wool for
his blanket and supper. His old friend at the Barley Mow in Wantage had
given him a bottle or two of his finest ale and some good fresh bread
and cheese. Bill was looking forward to his feast, it had been a long
day on the wool road to London. Both he and the mare had had enough for
the day.
Bill opened the first bottle and took a swig. He licked his lips with
satisfaction.
"Let's not slum it tonight," he said to the mare, "I'll treat meself."
He opened his leather bag and took out a pewter tankard. "Fine ale
needs holding proper." Bill poured the beverage into the tankard and
drank deeply, wiping his chin on his sleeve when he had drained the
last drop. "That were good." He made a start on the bread and
cheese.
The mare snickered, and shook her head.
"Doesn't you worry yerself," said Bill, "I'll not be drunk this
time."
The old horse remembered one similar occasion when her master went
missing for several days. She had nearly run out of pasture that
time.
The second bottle was dispatched just as quickly as the first. Bill
climbed onto the wagon, wrapped himself in his blanket and quickly fell
asleep on the bales of wool.

The storm was sudden. The warm Spring evening had turned into a night
of turmoil and terror. The sudden flashes of lightning set the old mare
stamping and snickering, pulling at her tether, ripping the rope from
the bush. Bill woke when the deluge of rain sobered him to
consciousness. He threw off the blanket and stumbled to the sodden
grass, giving chase to the frightened mare.
The pair were soaked by the time Bill had controlled the horse and got
her harnessed to the wagon.
"That'll steady you, old girl," he said as he secured the final strap.
The thunder gods had not quite finished for the night. One final blaze
of electric energy ripped through the low clouds. The pair both jumped
with primal fear. Bill slipped in the thick mud and fell flat on his
back. The old mare reared her front hooves higher than she had done
since she was a foal, then bolted as fast as her hooves would take
her.
"Whoa girl," shouted Bill, his voice lost in the hiss of the pelting
rain. He ran after the wagon slipping and sliding in the muddy field,
his arms flailing wildly. The horse suddenly stopped, the wagon wheels
stuck firmly in the quickening mire. One wheel began sinking in a
particularly soggy patch, canting the cart so far over that bales of
wool cascaded to the ground.
"Damn me," said Bill as he slid up to the angled wagon. He grasped the
sunken wheel to steady himself and promptly sank thigh deep into the
mud.

*****

The Surveyor rose to address the meeting.
"Our survey of the whole fault line is complete. It is
incontrovertible that the old M4 motorway is beyond saving. The chalk
downs are moving and there is a 93\% chance of total destruction within
five years. The continental shift continues to ravage the whole of the
south. Indeed, since the English Channel opened up at the end of the
last glacial period, southern England has been in jeopardy. The global
warming patterns of the last four hundred years has made this certain."
There were murmurs around the virtual table. The flickering images of
the members of the European sub-committee showed real concern for the
demise of such an important area.
"My team has determined that a new transport route is possible,
following the line of the last glacial period of the northern
hemisphere. The strata here are very stable. It will be usable for the
next three hundred years." He pointed to complex diagrams of rock
sections and time projections showing the small shifts of the land over
the next half millennium.
The Co-Ordinator stood to address the meeting.
"Thank you Surveyor. A most detailed assessment of our situation. I
move that the new route be chosen. All those in favour?" A member
indicated disagreement and stood to address the meeting.
"Indeed, a most detailed assessment. There is, however, less need for
a ground based transport route. My company has produced a number of
levitating vehicles for use over rough terrain. These vehicles dispense
with the need for a road." She sat down to let the meeting discuss the
possibilities.
Another member stood. His virtual image was shot through with
interference.
"From my vantage point in Luna Base 3, I can confirm that three
hundred years is as long as we have for a new road. After that, the
projections depend on the effectiveness of the Global Cooling
initiative. If it is unsuccessful, the whole of South England up to the
Birmingham conurbation will be under threat." He sat, and conferred
with one of his colleagues, off camera. The Co-Ordinator rose.
"We have before us an alternative solution. What are the projections
for levitating vehicles?" A new member flickered into view.
"I have projections from all the manufacturers and one from the
Friends of the Planets." He worked at an entry module in the arm of his
chair. New graphs and pictures flickered into view.
"These seem to confirm that a hard road is not the most effective
solution." The Co-Ordinator summed up the situation. "We will allocate
a levitating path along the old glacial line."
The virtual members all nodded in ascent and recorded their individual
decisions on their entry modules.

*****

Komani slid the long hunting knife back into her scabbard. Penguin
again. Still, the fatty meat was always welcome back at SU7. Walrus was
better, but much more of a fight. Her youthful skills did not yet
extend to walrus wrestling. One day, maybe.
She heaved the carcass to join the others on the light metal sled and
began to pull the load Northwards towards the Survival Unit, a journey
of some hours. The snow had kept off all day, which was a welcome
change. She hoped to make good time back to the warmth of her room in
SU7.
The sled began to grate over exposed rock. The ice cover was very thin
at this point on her route. She tugged harder to get onto ice again.
The exertion of the rough ground made her stop to regain her breath.
She opened a food packet and chewed the processed sustenance. Her gaze
fell on the rocky patches that she had just crossed. They stretched to
left and right as far as she could see, as though some giant broom had
cleared a path in the snow from east to west.
While she chewed, she walked back to the nearest bare rock. The snow
was melted on its surface, forming small pools of liquid water. She had
never noticed this before, even though she had been to the sea this way
many times. Usually, the weather was not kind enough to stand and stare
at the surrounding country. Usually, she was more intent on getting
back to the warmth and safety of her home.
The wind had dropped to a mere whisper. She took off her thick gloves
and felt the bare rock. It was almost warm. She flicked at the water
with a finger, the droplets froze almost as soon as they flew into the
frigid air. Then she remembered her school lessons.
This was the last road to be built before the big freeze. Quite a feat
of engineering in its time. She remembered the pictures in the history
lesson module. Large and small, the aerodynamic vehicles raced across
the country with a two-metre gap between them and the ground beneath.
Then the snows had come. Then the ice. Then the glaciers. Then the
penguins.
The glaciers had gone now. The world was warming again. The power
generators maintaining the levitating field still functioned, but the
technology had been forgotten over the millennia. But there was always
hope. The human race had survived, on the home planet and on others in
the solar system. One day people would walk this way again, perhaps in
warm sunshine, perhaps enjoying the sight of flowers, trees and birds
which the young woman had never seen.
Komani pulled her gloves back on. She straightened up, squared her
shoulders and faced the rest of her life with a certainty in which her
children's children would see more of the universe than she had
done.

END