The Land of Painted Caves by Jean M. Auel
Madroman was also scowling at Ayla and Jondalar. He resented the way Ayla was getting so much attention from the First. Yes, she was her acolyte, but he didn’t think it was right for the one who was supposed to be overseeing all the acolytes to favor her so much when they were together at a Summer Meeting. And of course Jondalar had to be in the middle of things. Why did he have to come home? Things were better while the big oaf was gone, especially after the Zelandoni of the Fifth Cave decided to take him as an acolyte, though he thought he should have been a Zelandoni by now. But what could he expect with the Fat One in control? I’ll think of a way, he thought.
Laramar turned his back on the whole thing and walked away, thinking his own thoughts. He’d seen enough of those horses and that wolf, especially that wolf. As far as he was concerned, they lived too close to his dwelling in the Ninth Cave, and they had spread out so far, the horses were on the other side of him. Before they came he could cut across the space they occupied. Now every time he went home, he had to make a wide circle around their lodge to avoid the wolf. The few times he got too close, the animal got his hackles up, wrinkled his nose, and showed his teeth, as though the whole place belonged to him.
Besides, she interfered, coming over and bringing food or blankets as though she was being nice, but she was really checking up on him. Now he didn’t even have a lodge to go to. Not one where he felt he belonged. The children acted as though it was theirs. But it was still his hearth, and what he did at his own hearth wasn’t any of her business.
Well, there were still the fa’lodges. He actually liked staying there. He wasn’t bothered by children crying in the night, or his drunken mate coming in and starting an argument. At the fa’lodge where he was staying, the other men were mostly older and didn’t bother each other. It wasn’t boisterous and loud like the fa’lodges of the younger men, though if he offered one of his lodge-mates a drink of his barma, they were more than happy to drink with him. Too bad there were no fa’lodges at the Ninth Cave.
Ayla rode Whinney slowly around the outside of the large zelandonia lodge pulling the pole-drag, then started out of the Summer Meeting Camp back the way she had come. Jondalar followed leading Racer and Gray. The area where the Summer Meeting had been set up, called Sun View after the name of the nearby Cave, was often used as a campground for large gatherings. When it rained, stones were brought from the river and the nearby cliffs to pave the ground, especially when it was unusually muddy. Each year more were added until the campsite was now defined by the large area paved by the stones.
When they were somewhat outside the boundary of the Camp, beyond the paving stones and in the middle of a grassy field on the floodplain of the river, Ayla stopped. “Let’s take off Whinney’s pole-drag and leave the horses here for a while,” she said, “where they can graze. I don’t think they will wander far, and we can whistle them back, if we have to.”
“Good idea,” Jondalar said. “Most people know not to bother them if one of us isn’t around and we can check on them. I’ll take their halters off, too.”
As they were tending to the horses, they saw Lanidar approaching, still wearing his specially made spear-thrower holder. He waved, then whistled a greeting, and received a welcoming neigh from Whinney and Racer in return.
“I wanted to see the horses,” he said. “I liked watching out for them last year and getting to know them, but I haven’t spent any time with them this summer, and I don’t know Whinney’s baby at all. Do you think they will remember me?”
“Yes. They answered your whistle, didn’t they?” Ayla said.
He had brought some dried wild apple slices with him in a fold of his tunic and fed the young stallion and then his dam from his hand; then the young man squatted down and held out a hand with a piece of the fruit to the little filly. She stayed near Whinney’s back legs at first. Though Gray was still nursing, she had started mouthing grass in imitation of her dam, and it was obvious that she was curious. Lanidar was patient, and after a while, the filly started edging toward him.
The mare watched, but neither encouraged nor restricted her foal. Eventually, Gray’s curiosity won out and she nosed Lanidar’s open hand to see what it held. She got a piece of apple in her mouth, then dropped it. Lanidar picked it up and tried again. Though she wasn’t as experienced as her dam, she managed to use her incisors and flexible lips and tongue to get it in her mouth and bite. It was a new experience for her, and a new taste, but she was more interested in Lanidar. When he began to stroke her and scratch her favorite places, she was won over. When he stood up, he had a big smile.
“We were going to leave the horses here in this field for a while, and check on them every so often,” Jondalar said.
“I’d be happy to watch them, like I did last year,” Lanidar said. “If there are any problems, I’ll look for you, or whistle.”
Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other, then smiled. “I would be grateful for that,” Ayla said. “I wanted to leave them here so people would get more used to seeing them, and they’d get more comfortable around people, especially Gray. If you get tired or have to go, whistle loud or come and find one of us and let us know.”
“I will,” he said.
They left the field feeling much more relaxed about the horses. When they returned in the evening to invite Lanidar to share a meal with their Cave, they found that several young men, and a few young women, including Lanoga carrying her youngest sister, Lorala, were visiting with him. When Lanidar had watched the animals the year before, it was at the enclosure and nearby field that was close to the camp of the Ninth Cave, which was some distance from the Main Camp. Not many people went there and he had few friends then, anyway, but since he had developed his skill with the spear-thrower and was hunting regularly, he had gained more status. He had also gained several friends and, it seemed, a few admirers.
The young people were involved with each other and didn’t notice Ayla and Jondalar coming. Jondalar was pleased to see that Lanidar was acting very responsibly, not allowing the group of youngsters to crowd in around the horses, especially Gray. He had obviously allowed the visitors to stroke and scratch them, but only let one or two at a time get close. He seemed to sense when the horses were tired of all the attention and just wanted to graze, and quite firmly told one of the youngsters to leave them alone. The couple didn’t know that he had banished some young men earlier who had become too rambunctious by threatening to tell Ayla, who, he reminded them, was the acolyte of the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother.
The zelandonia were the ones whom people went to for help and assistance, and though they were respected, often revered, and many of them were loved, the feeling for them was always tempered with a little fear. The zelandonia were intimate with the next world, the world of spirits, the fearsome place where one went when the elan—the life force—left their body. They had other powers that went beyond the ordinary, too. Youngsters often spread rumors, and boys in particular liked to scare each other by telling stories about what a zelandoni might do, especially to their male parts, if one of them made one angry.
They all knew that Ayla seemed to be a normal woman with a mate and a baby, but she was still an acolyte, a member of the zelandonia, and a foreigner. Just listening to her speak emphasized her strangeness and made them aware that she was from some other place, a distant place, farther away than anyone had ever traveled, except for Jondalar. But Ayla also exhibited extraordinary abilities, like having control over horses and a wolf. Who knew of what she might be capable? Some people even looked askance at Jondalar, though he was born to the Zelandonii, because of the strange ways he had learned while he was gone.
“Greetings, Ayla and Jondalar, and Wolf,” Lanidar said, which caused some of his young visitors who had not noticed their arrival to turn around sharply. They seemed to appear so suddenly. But Lanidar knew they were coming. He had noticed a change in the behavior of the horses. Even in the darkening twilight, the animals were aware of thei
“Greetings, Lanidar,” Ayla said. “Your mother and grandmother are at the camp of the Seventh Cave, along with most of the Ninth Cave. You have been invited to share a meal with them.”
“Who will watch the horses?” he said, leaning down to pet Wolf, who had come to him.
“We have already eaten. We’ll take them back to our camp,” Jondalar said.
“Thank you for looking out for them, Lanidar,” Ayla said. “I appreciate your help.”
“I liked doing it. I’ll watch them anytime,” Lanidar said. He meant it. Not only did he enjoy the animals, he liked the attention it brought him. Being responsible for them had brought several curious young men, and young women, to visit.
With the arrival of the First Among Those Who Served, the Summer Meeting Camp was soon caught up in the usual hectic activity of the season. The Rites of First Pleasures had the usual complications, but none that had been as difficult as the one Janida had posed the year before when she turned up pregnant before she’d had her First Rites. Especially when Peridal’s mother had objected to the mating of her son with the young woman. The mother’s opposition was not entirely unreasonable, since her son could count only thirteen years and a half, and Janida could count only thirteen.
It wasn’t only their youth. Although Peridal’s mother didn’t want to admit it, the First was sure she also objected because a young woman who shared Pleasures before her First Rites lost status. But, because Janida was pregnant, she also gained status. Several older men had been more than willing to offer her their hearths and welcome her child, but Peridal was the only one with whom she had shared Pleasures, and she wanted him. She had done it not only because he had pressed her so persistently, but because she loved him.
After the ceremony of First Rites, it was time to organize the first Matrimonial of the summer. Then a large herd of bison was spotted nearby, and the leaders decided that a major hunt was in order before the Matrimonial Rites. Joharran discussed it with the First, and she was agreeable to postponing the ceremony.
He was anxious to have Jondalar and Ayla use the horses to help drive the bison into the surround that was constructed to corral the animals. The value of the spear-throwers could be shown in hunting down the ones that evaded the surround trap. The leader of the Ninth Cave continued to encourage people to see how a spear could be cast from a much greater, and safer, distance with the spear-thrower. The implements were already becoming the weapon of choice for most of the people who’d had a chance to see them in action. The lion hunt was already common knowledge at the Meeting; the lion hunters had been enthusiastically telling the story of the dangerous confrontation.
Younger hunters were especially excited about the new weapon, and quite a few of the older ones were as well. Many of those who were less keen were the ones who were skilled in using a hand-flung spear. They were comfortable hunting the way they always had and not eager to learn a new method at such a late stage in their lives. By the time the hunt was over and the meat and skins preserved or put aside for further processing, the First Matrimonial had already been delayed too long to suit many.
The day of the communal Mating Ceremony had dawned bright and clear, and an air of anticipation filled the whole Camp, not just those who would be participating. It was a celebration that everyone looked forward to, one that they all took part in. The ceremony included the voiced approval of the newly mated couples by all the people at the Summer Meeting. The matings created changes in the names and ties of more than the new couples and their families; the status of nearly everyone shifted to some degree, some more than others, depending on the closeness of their relationships.
The Matrimonial the year before had been a stressful time for Ayla. Not only because it was her Mating Ceremony, but because she had so recently arrived and was the center of so much attention. She wanted Jondalar’s people to like and accept her and was trying to fit in. Most of them did, but not all of them.
This year the leaders and former leaders, as well as the the zelandonia, were seated strategically so they could answer when the First asked for responses from those present, which to her meant approvals. The First had not been pleased with the hesitation from some of the crowd the year before when she asked for the endorsement responses for Ayla and Jondalar, and she did not want that to become a practice. She liked her ceremonies to run smoothly.
The accompanying festivities were anticipated with great relish. People prepared their best dishes and wore their best clothes, but the Mating Festival was not only a joyous occasion for the ones who were mating, it was also the most appropriate occasion for a Mother Festival. Then everyone was encouraged to honor the Great Earth Mother by sharing Her Gift of Pleasure, with joinings and couplings as often as one was able, and with whomever one chose so long as the feeling was reciprocated.
People were encouraged to honor the Mother, but it was not required. Certain areas were set aside for those who did not wish to participate. Children were never required, though if some of them bounced around with each other in imitation of the adults, it usually drew indulgent smiles. Some adults just didn’t feel like it, especially those who were sick or hurt or recovering from accidents or just tired, or women who had recently given birth, or were having their moontime and bleeding. A few of the zelandonia, who were undergoing certain trials that required abstaining from Pleasures for a period of time, volunteered to tend to the young children and help the others.
The One Who Was First was inside the zelandonia dwelling, sitting on a stool. She swallowed the last of her cup of hawthorn flowers and catmint tea and pronounced, “It’s time.” She gave the empty cup to Ayla, got up, and walked toward the back of the lodge to a small, secondary, somewhat concealed access that was camouflaged on the outside by a construction used to hold additional wood.
Ayla sniffed the cup; it was an automatic, habitual action, and almost as subconsciously, she noted the ingredients and reflected that it was probably the woman’s moontime. Catmint, the waist-high, downy-leafed perennial with the whorls of white, pink, and purple flowers, was a mild sedative that could relieve tension and cramps. She wondered about the hawthorn, however. It had a distinctive taste and maybe she liked the flavor, but it was also one of the ingredients the First used in the medicinal preparation that she made for Marthona. Ayla was now aware that the medicines the Zelandoni gave Jondalar’s mother were for the heart, the muscle in her chest that pumped blood. She had seen similar heart muscles in the animals she hunted and subsequently butchered. Hawthorn helped it to pump more vigorously and more rhythmically. She put the cup down and exited out the main entrance.
Wolf was waiting outside and looked expectantly at Ayla. She smiled, shifted Jonayla who was asleep in her carrying blanket, and hunkered down in front of the animal. Taking his head in both hands, she looked in his eyes.
“Wolf, I am so glad that I found you. Every day you are here for me, and you give me so much,” she said, ruffling his shaggy hair. Then she bent her forehead to touch his. “Are you coming with me to the Matrimonial?” Wolf continued to look at her. “You can come if you want, but I think you’ll get tired of it. Why don’t you go hunt?” She stood. “You can go, Wolf. Go ahead, hunt for yourself,” she said, moving her hand toward the boundary of the Camp. He looked up at her a little longer, then jogged off.
Ayla was wearing the clothing that she had worn when she mated Jondalar, her Matrimonial outfit, which she had carried with her for the entire year-long Journey from the home of the Mamutoi far to the east to the home of Jondalar’s people, the Zelandonii, whose territory extended to the Great Waters of the West. The Matrimonial did remind many people of the previous year’s event. Several people talked about Ayla’s unusual outfit when she appeared wearing it again. But it also reminded Zelandoni of the objections to her that some people had put forth. Although they weren’t usually direct about it, the First knew it was primarily because Ayla was a stranger, and a stranger with un
Ayla was going as a spectator rather than a participant this time and was looking forward to just watching the ritual. Recalling her Mating Ceremony, she knew the ones who were Promised were gathering in the smaller lodge nearby, dressed in their finery and feeling nervous and excited. Their witnesses and guests were also congregating in the front section of the viewing area, with the rest of the Camp filing in behind them.
She walked toward the large area where people gathered for various functions that involved the whole Camp. When she arrived, she stopped to scan the crowd, then headed toward the recognizable faces of the Ninth Cave. Several people smiled when she approached, including Jondalar and Joharran.
“You are looking particularly nice this evening,” Jondalar said. “I haven’t seen those clothes since this time last year.” He was wearing the simple pure white tunic, decorated only with ermine tails, that she had made for him for their mating. On him, it looked stunning.
“That Mamutoi outfit does become you,” his brother said. He did think so, but the leader of the Ninth Cave also understood how much wealth it displayed.
Nezzie, the mate of the headman of the Lion Camp, and the woman who had persuaded the Mamutoi to adopt her, had given the garments to Ayla, but their creation had been requested by Mamut, the holy man who had actually adopted her as a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. They originally had been made for her when it was thought that she would mate Ranec, who was the son of the mate of Nezzie’s brother, Wymez. Wymez had traveled far to the south in his youth, mated an exotic dark-skinned woman, and returned after ten years, unfortunately losing his woman on the way.
He brought with him fantastic stories, new flint-knapping techniques, and an amazing child with brown skin and tight black curls, whom Nezzie raised as her own. Among his light-skinned, fair-haired northern kin, Ranec was a unique boy who always caused an exciting stir. He grew into a man with a delicious wit, laughing black eyes that women found irresistible, and a remarkable talent for carving.