Deciding upon the form restitution was to take turned out to be pretty straightforward. Using local law and custom as their guide, the elders of the family determined that Ronon owed the calf's first-owner's heir, payable to the family as a whole since they lived communally, protein-rich food containing three times the calories the calf's meat would have provided as an adult, and twice its surface area of leather.
Ronon left the exact composition of the payment to Teyla. She muttered, "You will pay," then convinced the elders of Meah's family to accept fish, and some of the synthetic material and thread that they could produce easily on Atlantis (without, of course, being too specific as to where they'd get it).
It was decided that Ronon would turn himself over to the local constabulary, accompanied by Meah and several of her male kin, while the rest of his team returned to Atlantis to obtain a puddle jumper and the goods. After delivering the restitution, someone (and there was no shortage of volunteers) would direct them to where the new settlers were.
It was, frankly, a relief when they parted on the path, Sheppard, McKay, and Teyla heading back to the stargate, and he, Meah, and her kinsmen boarding a morro-drawn cart bound for the local seat of government.
The ride into town reminded Ronon of the farm country hayrides he'd done with his family and friends every year growing up. Did anyone else, anywhere else, do that? Or had that died with Sateda?
The trip took perhaps an hour, as they traveled, not much faster than he could have walked, past stands of trees and fields of grain nearly ready for harvesting. There weren't a great many people visible from the road, but he saw a fence being repaired, and someone pounding at some sort of metal monstrosity. An irrigation system? And over there several children were weeding a vegetable garden.
Nice place, Anaa.
If he hadn't killed the calf and run, would he have been tempted to stay, to see if he could hide a while in the spaces between farms? He'd done that, he didn't know how many times. When he managed to not be seen, it hadn't usually caused the local people harm.
Not usually.
The farms were replaced by closer-standing houses; then, a little ways further, they passed under a wooden arch, dissimilar only in scale to the one that had demarcated Meah's family's property. Meah brought the team of morros to a halt, reached under her seat, and brought out a mid-sized bell, which she rang three times. She turned to Ronon and the kinsmen who were accompanying them and asked, "Do you think that was loud enough?"
It seemed to be; several men came out of the nearest structure. Meah slipped from the cart and went to speak to them; Ronon couldn't hear what was being said, so concentrated on looking complacent.
The men, looking a bit bemused, gestured for him to get out of the cart. He complied immediately.
"Did you do what Meah Ahslander says? Did you kill her kin's morro calf?" the older of the two asked.
"Yes."
"You meant to do this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I was hungry."
"You don't look hungry now," said the younger.
"It was a long time ago."
"His account matches that of my kinswoman, Marcyl, lately culled," said Meah. "We Ahslanders don't wish him ill, since he has confessed freely, but we do demand justice."
"Very well," said the older man. "Present your hands, please."
Ronon did so, and a rope was wrapped around them. Ronon forced his hands to stay together, forced his feet to stay rooted, forced his elbows and shoulders into stillness.
He could do this. They weren't going to do anything to him that he couldn't absorb and didn't deserve.
He was led down the wide, gravel street, the older man holding the end of the rope that bound his hands. All the people that hadn't been out in the fields working like they should have been seemed to be in town just to gawk at him. His being led like an animal was the best thing they'd seen all year; the best entertainment they got on this shithole of a planet. He could rip any of them apart without breaking a sweat; any of these fools.
"The king himself will adjudicate!" called Meah, who'd somehow gotten ahead of them and was bustling back. "First we have to throw you into the pit. Um, it's a bit unpleasant."
"Stand still, now," said the man leading him, and the other guard took another length of rope and bound his ankles.
And Ronon let him, through measured breaths, because if he fought with his hands bound he wasn't sure he'd be able to control his blows.
Then there were hands everywhere, six men and boys at least, pulling him down and lifting his feet and carrying him and he had to get down NOW when they dropped him and he was rolling and landing face-down in feces-tainted slop.
The pit. Great.
He rolled over and leveraged himself up onto his knees and took in his surroundings. He was in an earthen hole about two armspans across at the top, and not much deeper than he was tall. The sides were wet clay, and probably took some work to maintain.
The rim was starting to accumulate gawkers, boys mostly, but a few girls and adults too. Most looked curious, but one – a youth, who looked a lot like Meah's son – was redfaced, his hands clenched into fists.
"Hey, you Asz Ahsland?" Ronon called.
"Yes, thief!" he replied.
"I'm, um, I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry I killed you ma's morro. I didn't know it belonged to anyone."
"That calf, it was to be part of the fee for my first session of school on Hoff," said Asz. "I had to wait until after the next planting. Ma begged my uncles and aunts for currency but they said she was too careless for the risk. Losing that calf, losing our family's trust – that crushed her."
"I'm sorry," Ronon repeated.
"You think that helps?" Asz reached down behind where he was standing, then turned back and flung a clod of dirt at him. Then another and another, some of the others joining him in slinging down dirt and bits of rotted food, some wrapped around pebbles and rocks.
Ronon folded forward and closed his eyes.
The pelting stopped between one breath and the next, followed by the vibration of a jumper. Ronon rose to his knees again; a moment later, Sheppard appeared, scowling then shouting to someone out of sight, "What the hell is wrong with you people!"
"Did you get the food and cloth?" Ronon called.
"Yeah, yeah, no problem there," said Sheppard. "Already dropped off at Meah's place and accepted by her family's matriarch. Jumper smells like fish, though."
"Sorry," said Ronon, thinking that that didn't sound too bad, considering what he must smell like.
"We'll deal," said Sheppard. He looked up again, then back at Ronon. "I think your trial's about to start. You stay down there, I think."
Ronon nodded.
A moment later, a new crowd gathered around the rim, this one older and probably better armed but, Ronon hoped, with more restraint.
A man of middle age wearing a purple stole seemed to be in charge. He raised a hand and a younger man standing next to him rang two bells in unison. The others immediately quieted. "Are you Ronon Dex?" he asked.
"Yes."
"You admit to killing a Ahsland morro calf on the 7th day of the third moon of the 31st year of the reign of my mother, Queen Bolzom?"
Mother? That meant this must be King Mashana.
"I admit to killing a morro calf that bore the brand of the Ahsland clan," said Ronon. "I don't know your planet's calendar, but it was a long time ago."
"Why?"
"I was hungry, and I also had some uses for its hide."
"Why did you run?"
Telling them that he'd been a Runner would probably get him killed, so he simply said, "I was scared." It wasn't a lie.
"And why do you confess to this now?"
"Because I can. Because it's the right thing to do. And because I'm sorry."
The king looked across the pit and Ronon turned to follow his gaze. Meah, Asz, and several of their kin were there, all except Asz wearing what looked like their best clothes.
"Ahslanders," said the king, "do you accept this man's apology?"
"We do, sire," said Meah.
"The lad next to you doesn't seem to agree," said the king.
"He killed my ma's best calf, sire," said Asz. "My ma was Marcyl Ahsland, taken in the last culling."
The king nodded. "I understand your unhappiness. But I also see that you and your peers have already shown Dex your displeasure."
The man next to the king, on some sign Ronon didn't catch, began ringing one of his bells softly, letting it swing easily. The king raised his right hand and said, in the same lilting pitch as the bell, "Ronon Dex, visitor to Anaa. The crime to which you have confessed demands retribution and punishment. Retribution has been met, to the satisfaction of those whom you wronged. Punishment is a month confined. However, as your misdeed occurred prior to my reign; and in light of your free confession; I, King Mashana Sellu, sentence you to public confinement until mid-morning tomorrow. So be it."
The bell-ringing stopped and the king and most of the others departed, replaced by Sheppard. "Want to guess what public confinement is?"
"Spending the night down here?"
"Nope, stocks, in the public square."
"Stocks?"
"Wooden thing, holds you like this," and Sheppard hunched over and stuck out his hands. "You'll love it."
TBC