The Land of Painted Caves by Jean M. Auel
“If I can get some help and we start soon, maybe later this morning, we can probably have it done by afternoon,” he said. “Why?”
“Then should I ask her if she would have time to try it this afternoon? She said that was what she wanted to do before she used it in front of other people.”
“Go ahead and ask her. I’ll ask Joharran and some others to help. I’m sure we’ll get it done.” Jondalar grinned. “It will be interesting to see how people react when they see her riding behind the horses.”
Jondalar was working on cutting down a straight, sturdy sapling that was a good deal thicker than the size they usually selected for a travois. The stone axe-head he was using had been shaped so that the thicker top was tapered up to a kind of point, and the cutting end knapped into a narrow thinning cross-section with a sharp, rounded bottom edge. The wooden handle had a hole gouged all the way through in one end into which the tapered top of the axe-head could fit. It was affixed in such a way that each time a blow was struck, the axe-head would wedge more firmly into the hole of the handle. The two pieces were firmly lashed together with wet rawhide that shrank and pulled tighter as it dried.
A stone axe was not strong enough to cut straight across the trunk of a tree; the flint would shatter and break if used in that way. To fell a tree with such a tool, the cuts needed to be made at an angle, whittling down the tree until it broke apart. The stump often looked as though it had been chewed down by a beaver. Even then, stone chips usually spalled off the axe-blade, so that it needed constant resharpening. This could be done by using a carefully controlled hammerstone, or pointed bone punch hit by a hammerstone, to remove narrow slivers of stone to thin down the cutting edge again. Because he was a skilled flint-knapper, Jondalar was often called upon to cut down trees. He knew how to use an axe properly, and how to resharpen one efficiently.
Jondalar had just cut down a second tree of similar size when a group of men arrived: Joharran, along with Solaban and Rushemar; Manvelar, the leader of the Third Cave, and the son of his mate, Morizan; Kimeran, leader of the Second Cave, and Jondecam, his same-age nephew; Willamar, the Trade Master, and his apprentice, Tivonan, and his friend Palidar; and Stevadal, the leader of the Twenty-sixth Cave, within whose territory this year’s Summer Meeting was being held. Eleven people had come to make one pole-drag, twelve counting Jondalar. If she counted herself, thirteen. Ayla had made her first one by herself.
They were curious, she thought; that’s brought them. Most of the new arrivals were familiar with the contrivance she called a pole-drag, which Ayla used with her horses to transport goods. It began with two poles made from whole trees with tapering tops, and all the branches trimmed off. Depending upon the variety, the bark was sometimes removed as well, especially if it slipped off easily. The narrow ends were fastened together and attached to a horse at the withers with a harness of sturdy cords or leather thongs. The two trees angled out slightly in front, and much more toward the back, with only the ends of the heavier base dragging on the ground, which created relatively little friction, making it fairly easy to pull even with a heavy load. Crosspieces of wood, leather, or cordage, anything that could support a load, were attached to both poles across the space between.
Jondalar explained to the ones who had come to help that he wanted to make a pole-drag with special crosspieces put together in a certain way. Before long, more trees had been cut down, and a few suggestions offered and tried before they worked out something that seemed suitable. Ayla concluded they didn’t need her, and while they were working, decided to get Zelandoni.
Taking Jonayla with her, she slipped away heading toward the main Meeting Camp thinking about the adaptations to a pole-drag and the one they had made on their long return Journey to Jondalar’s home. When they came to a large river they had to cross, they constructed a bowl boat similar to the kind the Mamutoi used to cross rivers: a frame of wood bent into the shape of a bowl and covered on the outside with a heavy well-greased aurochs hide. It was simple to make but a little diffcult to control in the water. Jondalar told her about the boats the Sharamudoi made, dug out of a log, widened with steam, with a pointed prow on each end. They were much more difficult to make, but it was much easier to make them go where you wanted, he explained.
The first time they crossed a river, they used the bowl boat to hold their things, and themselves, and propelled it with small oars across the river, while the horses swam behind. They repacked their things in panniers and saddle-baskets, then decided to make a pole-drag for Whinney to take the boat with them. Later they realized that they could attach the bowl boat between the poles of the travois and let the horses swim across a river pulling the load while Ayla and Jondalar rode on their backs, or swam along beside them. The bowl boat was lightweight and since it floated, it kept their things dry. When they reached the other side of the next river, instead of emptying it, they decided to leave their things in the bowl boat. While the pole-drag with the boat made crossing rivers easy and usually presented no problems traveling across open plains, when they had to move through woods or areas of high relief that required sharp turns, the long poles and the bowl-shaped boat could be a hindrance. They almost left them behind a few times, but didn’t abandon them until they were much closer and had a much better reason.
Ayla had told Zelandoni earlier what they were planning, so she was ready when Ayla came for her. When they got back to the camp of the Ninth Cave, the men had moved closer to the fenced enclosure that had been made for the horses and didn’t see them. The First slipped into the sleeping lodge used by Jondalar’s family with the sleeping baby while Ayla went to see what was happening with the pole-drag seat. Jondalar had been right. With all the help, it hadn’t taken long to construct. It had a deep bench-like seat with a back between the two sturdy poles, with a step up to it. Jondalar had taken Whinney out of the enclosure and was strapping the conveyance on the mare with a harness arrangement of thongs across her chest and high on her shoulders.
“What are you going to do with that?” Morizan said. He was still young enough to ask directly.
It was not considered courteous for adults to be quite so blunt, but it was what all the the others were thinking. Such directness might not have been appropriate for a mature Zelandonii, but it wasn’t wrong, just naive and unsophisticated. Experienced people knew how to be more subtle and implicit. Ayla, however, was used to candor. It was common and entirely appropriate for the Mamutoi to be frank and forthright. It was a cultural difference, although they had their own kinds of subtleties. And the Clan could read body language as well as their sign language and, though as a result they couldn’t lie, they did understand nuances and could be extremely discreet.
“I do have a particular idea of how to use it, but I’m still not sure if it will work. I’d like to try it out first, and if it doesn’t work, it is a sturdy and well-made pole-drag and I will probably find another use for it,” Ayla said.
While her reply didn’t really answer his question, it satisfied the men. They assumed that she just didn’t want to announce an experiment that might not work. No one liked to advertise their failures. Ayla was actually fairly certain it would work; she just didn’t know if the First would be willing to use it.
Jondalar started walking slowly back toward their camp, knowing that if he moved, the others would. Ayla went into the horse enclosure to settle the horses after all the excitement of so many people around, nodding to the men to acknowledge their leaving. She patted and stroked Gray, thinking what a beautiful young filly she was. Then she talked to Racer and scratched his favorite itchy parts. Horses were very social animals, and liked being around their kind and others for whom they had affection. He was of an age that if he were living with wild horses, he’d be leaving his dam to run with a bachelor herd. But since Gray and Whinney were his only equine companions, he had grown quite close to Gray and had become somewhat protective of his young sister.
Ayla went out of the enclosure and approached
“Shall we try it out?” Jondalar said.
“Is everyone gone?” the large woman asked.
“Yes, the men are gone and no one else is in camp,” Ayla said.
“Then I suppose this is as good a time as any,” the First said.
They walked out of the lodge, each of them glancing around to make sure no one else was there, then approached Whinney. They went around the back of the horse.
Suddenly Ayla said, “Wait a moment,” and went into the summer dwelling. She came back out holding a padded cushion and placed it on the seat, which was made of several small logs lashed firmly together with strong cordage. A narrow back, perpendicular to the seat and made the same way, kept the cushion in place. Jondalar handed Ayla the infant, then turned to help Zelandoni.
But when the Donier stepped onto the crosspiece of wooden logs made into a step that was close to the ground, the springy long poles gave a little, and Whinney took a step forward because of the shift in weight. The First quickly backed off.
“The horse moved!” she said.
“I’ll go hold her steady,” Ayla said.
She went around to the front of the mare to calm her, holding the lead rope with one hand and the infant with the other. The horse sniffed at the baby’s tummy, which made her giggle and her mother smile. Whinney and Jonayla were familiar with and completely comfortable around each other. The child had frequently ridden on the horse, in her mother’s arms or slung in her carrying blanket on the woman’s back. She had also ridden on Racer with Jondalar, and had been placed lightly on Gray’s back, while the man kept a secure hold on her, just so the two of them could get used to each other.
“Try it again,” Ayla called out.
Jondalar held out his hand for support, smiling at the large woman encouragingly. Zelandoni wasn’t used to being encouraged or urged to do anything. She was the one who usually took on that duty and she gave Jondalar a hard look to see if he was patronizing her. In truth, her heart was pounding though she did not want to admit to her fear. She wasn’t sure why she had agreed to do this thing.
Again the fresh trees that were used as poles yielded as the First put her weight on the thinner logs that had been lashed together to form the step, but Ayla steadied the mare, and Jondalar’s shoulder offered support to her. She reached for the seat, again logs tied close together with rawhide cordage, turned herself around, and sat on the cushion with a sigh of relief.
“Are you ready?” Ayla called back.
“Are you?” Jondalar asked the Donier quietly.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
“Go ahead,” Jondalar said, raising his voice a bit.
“Take it slow, Whinney,” Ayla said, going forward while holding the lead.
The horse started walking, pulling the sturdy pole-drag and the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother behind her. The woman grabbed the front edge of the seat as she felt herself being moved, but once Whinney got started, it wasn’t bad, though she didn’t let go of the seat. Ayla looked back to see how things were going, and noticed Wolf, sitting on his haunches, watching them. Where have you been? You’ve been gone all day, she thought.
The ride wasn’t smooth; there were a few bumps and dips along the way, and one place where one leg dropped into a ditch caused by a creek runoff, making the rider sway to the left, but the conveyance was soon righted when Ayla turned Whinney slightly. They headed toward the horse enclosure.
It was a strange sensation to move without using her own feet, Zelandoni thought. Of course, children who were carried by their parents were used to it, she realized, but she hadn’t been small enough to be carried by anyone for many years, and riding on this pole-drag moving seat wasn’t the same. For one thing, she was facing backward, looking at where she had been, not where she was going.
Before they reached the horse enclosure, Ayla started a wide turn that led them back to the Ninth Cave’s camp. She saw a track that led in a direction different from the one they usually took to the main camp. She had noticed it before and wondered where it led, but never seemed to have time to follow it. This seemed like a good time. She started toward it, then looked back and caught Jondalar’s eye. She indicated the unknown trail with a slight gesture and he nodded imperceptibly, hoping that their passenger wouldn’t notice and object. Either she didn’t notice or didn’t object as Ayla continued. Wolf had been trotting beside Jondalar bringing up the rear, but loped to the front when Ayla changed direction.
She had draped the lead rope across Whinney’s neck; the horse would follow the woman’s signals more easily than a lead rope attached to a halter. Then she put Jonayla in her carrying blanket on her back where the child could look around but wasn’t a constant weight on her mother’s arm. The trail led to the waterway known to the Ninth Cave as West River, and followed it for a short distance. Just as Ayla was wondering if she should turn back, she saw several familiar people ahead. She stopped the horse and walked back to Jondalar and Zelandoni.
“I think we’ve reached Sun View, Zelandoni,” she said. “Do you want to go ahead and visit, and if so, do you want stay on the pole-drag?”
“Since we’re here, we might as well visit. I might not get here again for some time. And I’m ready to get off. It’s not bad sitting on the moving seat, but it can be a bit bumpy sometimes.” The woman stood up, and using Jondalar for a bit of balance and support, stepped down.
“Do you think you would find it convenient to use when we go to visit the sacred sites you want Ayla to see?” Jondalar asked.
“I think it could be useful, at least for part of the Journey.”
Ayla smiled.
“Jondalar, Ayla, Zelandoni!” a familiar voice called out. Ayla noticed a smile on Jondalar’s face as she was turning around. Willamar was walking toward them along with Stevadal, the leader of the Twenty-sixth Cave.
“How nice that you decided to come,” Stevadal said. “I didn’t know if the First would be able to visit Sun View.”
“Summer Meetings are always full for the zelandonia, but I do try to make at least one courtesy visit to the Cave that hosts the Meeting, Stevadal. We do appreciate the effort,” she said.
“It is an honor,” the leader of the Twenty-sixth said.
“And our pleasure,” said a woman who had just arrived and was standing beside Stevadal.
Ayla was sure the woman was Stevadal’s mate, though she hadn’t met her, and didn’t remember seeing her at the Meeting Camp. It made her look closer. She was younger than Stevadal, but there was something else. Her tunic hung on her thin frame, and she seemed wan and frail. Ayla wondered if she had been ill, or had suffered some grievous loss.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Stevadal said. “Danella was hoping to see the First, and to meet Jondalar’s mate. She hasn’t been able to go to the Meeting Camp, yet.”
“You didn’t tell me she was ill, or I would have come sooner, Stevadal,” the First said.
“Our Zelandoni has been here for her,” Stevadal said. “I didn’t want to bother you. I know how busy you are at Summer Meetings.”
“Not too busy to see your mate.”
“Perhaps later, after everyone else has seen you,” Danella said to the First, then turned to the tall blond man, “but I would like to meet your mate, Jondalar. I’ve heard so much about her.”
“Then you shall,” he said, beckoning to Ayla. She approached
“Danella, of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii, mate of the leader, Stevadal, may I present to you Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii …” He continued with her usual introduction until he got to “Protected by the spirit of the Cave Bear.”
“You forgot ‘Friend of horses and the four-legged hunter she calls Wolf,’ ” Willamar added, chuckling.
He had joined them along with the rest of the men who had come to help make the new pole-drag. Since they were in the area, Willamar suggested that they stop by to visit Sun View, the home of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii, who were hosting the Summer Meeting, and they had been invited to stay for a cup of tea.
Most of the people who lived there were at the Summer Meeting Camp, but a few were still at home, among them the leader’s mate, who apparently was, or had been, ill, Ayla concluded, and wondered how long she had been sick, and what her problem was. She glanced at Zelandoni, who was looking at her. Their eyes met and while nothing was said, she felt that the First was thinking the same thing.
“My names and ties are not nearly so interesting, but in the name of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, you are welcome here, Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Danella said.
“And I greet you, Danella of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii,” Ayla said as they took each other’s hands.
“The sound of your speech is as interesting as your names and ties,” Danella said. “It makes one think of faraway places. You must have some exciting stories to tell. I would like to hear some of them, Ayla.”
Ayla couldn’t help but smile. She was more than aware that her speech was different from that of other Zelandonii. Most people tried to hide it when they noticed her accent, but Danella had such a charming and forthright manner that Ayla was immediately drawn to her. She reminded Ayla of the Mamutoi.