Chapter 16
The days of travel passed swiftly after that. Once the horses learned that their lot in life was to carry a rider, Methos adapted back into the saddle almost as if he'd never left it. By the time they reached the small narrow valley below the temple he was racing ahead of the wagon and with O'Neill's bemused permission scouting the forest on all sides.
As expected, he found signs of traffic around the villages they passed through. People were moving again. The men going out to hunt for game to replenish their supplies as they waited for the harvest, the women seeking fresh new shoots of wild herbs and anything they couldn't grow in their gardens. The common folk mostly stuck close to home, the world outside being fraught with dangers unknown. So, it was with some surprise as they moved up the road leading to the temple that Methos found the remains of someone's cook fire.
O'Neill halted the cart as Methos dismounted.
"Trouble?" the colonel asked as he climbed down, joining Methos where he squatted by the cold ashes. There were several broken arrow shafts lying on the ground nearby which was heavily stained with blood.
"Hunters," Methos nodded as he stood. "Probably rich kids from the bigger farms out looking for any sign of incursions from up north. Happens a lot. Nomads looking for better grazing lands find a good spot to settle down and the locals want to run them off. Doesn't matter that their ancestors did exactly the same thing. They were here first. So they think it's their duty to root them out. Kill whoever fights, sell whoever survives and split the spoils of war."
"Sweet," O'Neill muttered, reaching under his cloak to pull out his zat gun as something moved in the trees beyond the clearing.
"It's just us, Colonel!" Major Carter called down, moving out into the open followed by Daniel and Teal'c.
"You kids all right?" he asked, putting away his weapon.
"We're fine," Daniel nodded. "These guys just showed up last week. About a dozen or so with horses. We laid low and kept an eye on them until a couple started moving to explore the temple. Then Sam sent up a flare from inside and they all packed up and left in a hurry. That was about three days ago."
Methos frowned. "That might not have been the wisest thing to do," he told them. "You may have frightened them off, but they now have a wondrous tale to tell. And there's always some joker who'll take it into his head that the gods should be appeased, or that this is where you should come to ask a favor. Or maybe he's got some time to waste and wants his own wondrous tale to tell so he can get free meals for life out of his friends and neighbors. Safer just to let them look around and frighten themselves off with stories of angry spirits and whatever they do to trespassers."
"We didn't consider that," Daniel admitted ruefully.
"Of course you didn't," Methos said amiably. "It's not like you've ever interacted for long periods of time with most of the cultures you've come across. And knowing about the people," he offered gently. "Doesn't mean you can gauge their reactions to random events."
"But I should have," he responded quietly.
"Why? You aren't an anthropologist or a sociologist. And the whole mindset of the SGC isn't one of non-interference with the local cultures. It's the exact opposite. Which is not to say," Methos added. "That what the SGC does is wrong. It's just a case of me and mine first, you and yours we'll worry about when we have the time. The Goa'uld haven't given us the luxury of making a more humane choice. And frankly, I always thought the non-interference directive on Star Trek was idiotic. Lots of things interfere with the natural growth of cultures. And unless the underpinnings of the society in question are already on shaky ground just meeting a handful of space travelers isn't going to destroy it, just make it expand its horizons."
"That's a wonderful theory, Pierson, but do we really have time to discuss the whole Kirk versus Picard issue?" O'Neill asked sarcastically.
"There's always time for intelligent discussion," Methos responded haughtily. "And there's no contest there. Kirk above all others."
"Not all," O'Neill smirked. "Janeway's pretty hot."
"To each his own," Methos grinned, leaping back into the saddle.
"And where do you think you're going?"
"To scout the area," he responded, giving O'Neill a bemused glance. "With your permission, of course. I'd like to make sure there aren't any others roaming around who might cause trouble for us."
O'Neill nodded. "Make it so, Tonto."
Methos rolled his eyes in disgust as he turned the horse and headed out. If O'Neill kept up the western name calling for much longer, he was going to start missing the minion thing after all.
It was nearing sunset when Methos finally returned to camp after settling Wilma in the small, makeshift stable the others had built while they were gone. It wasn't much, just half a dozen covered stalls and a little rail fence enclosed paddock. Still, it was enough to suit his purposes and Methos was pleased with what he'd found when he'd arrived. Despite all of Jack's grumbling at being reduced to water carrier and stable boy he'd at least taken the care of the animals to heart. The stalls were clean with fresh hay, and clear water filled the hollowed out log they'd used for a trough. The other horses had been fed and curried, the oxen left to graze in the field nearby - even Amelia, the donkey, was looking fat and happy.
The cabin was warm and cozy as Methos stepped inside and the wonderful aroma of warm stew filled the room. The others were sitting comfortably around the place in various states of dress, mostly consisting of uniform pants and tee shirts.
"Are you guys sure you want to leave?" Methos asked. "'Cause this place is really nice for the times."
Pillows, a handful of wet clay and a rock all came sailing in his direction as Methos ducked under the table.
"I was joking!" he shouted as cries of outrage reached his ears. Apparently they still wanted cable TV, pizza dinners, and a working toilet more than the hardy, but character building pioneer life of their ancestors. Even Teal'c was glaring at him as he poked his head out to make sure nothing else was about to start flying. "Sorry," he grinned. "Just making sure we're all together on this."
"Home isn't where the hearth is," O'Neill muttered sullenly. "It's where the Chinese place knows to deliver on Sundays."
"A most astute observation," Methos agreed, finally making his point. "Which is why tonight is the last night we will all be able to wear modern clothing, use modern appliances, or speak anything other than Greek unless absolutely necessary."
Stunned silence greeted him as it at last sank in. They were almost ready to escape the boredom and isolation of their little haven and head out into the larger world where danger awaited.
"Pierson's right," O'Neill said quietly. "We've only got one chance. Let's make sure we get this thing right."
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