The Mammoth Hunters by Jean M. Auel
“How can you be so sure she knew a man?”
“She came to the Others to have her baby, which means she had no clan to help her and she had some reason to think Nezzie and Talut would. Maybe she met him later, but I’m sure she knew a man who made Pleasures with her … or maybe just relieved his needs. She had a mixed child, Jondalar.”
“Why do you think it’s a man that causes life to start?”
“You can see it, Jondalar, if you think about it. Look at the boy that arrived today, Danug. He looks just like Talut. Only younger. I think Talut started him when he shared Pleasures with Nezzie.”
“Does that mean she will have another child because they shared Pleasures tonight?” Jondalar asked. “Pleasures are shared often. They are a Gift of the Great Earth Mother and it honors Her when they are shared often. But women don’t have children every time they share Her Gift. Ayla, if a man appreciates the Mother’s Gifts, honors Her, then She may choose to take his spirit to mix with the woman he mates. If it is his spirit, the child may resemble him, as Danug resembles Talut, but it is the Mother who decides.”
Ayla frowned in the dark. That was one question she hadn’t resolved. “I don’t know why a woman doesn’t have a child every time. Maybe Pleasures must be shared several times before a baby can start, or perhaps only at certain times. Maybe it is only when a man’s totem spirit is especially powerful and so can defeat a woman’s, or maybe the Mother does choose, but She chooses the man and makes his manhood more powerful. Can you say for sure how She chooses? Do you know how the spirits are mixed? Couldn’t they be mixed inside the woman when they share Pleasures?”
“I’ve never heard of that,” Jondalar said, “but I suppose it could be.” Now he was frowning in the dark. He was silent for so long Ayla thought he had gone to sleep, but then he spoke. “Ayla, if what you think is true, we might be starting a baby inside you every time we share the Mother’s Gift.”
“I think so, yes,” Ayla said, delighted with the idea.
“Then we must stop!” Jondalar said, sitting up suddenly.
“But why? I want to have a baby started by you, Jondalar.” Ayla’s dismay was evident.
Jondalar rolled over and held her. “And I want you to, but not now. It is a long Journey back to my home. It could take a year or more. It could be dangerous for you to travel so far if you are with child.”
“Can’t we just go back to my valley then?” she asked.
Jondalar was afraid if they returned to her valley so that she could have a child in safety, they would never leave.
“Ayla, I don’t think that would be a good idea. You shouldn’t be alone then. I wouldn’t know how to help you, you need women around. A woman can die in childbirth,” he said, his voice constricted with anguish. He had seen it happen not long before.
It was true, Ayla realized. She had come close to death giving birth to her son. Without Iza, she would not have lived. This wasn’t the time to have a baby, not even one of Jondalar’s.
“Yes, you are right,” she said, feeling a crushing disappointment. “It can be difficult.… I … I … would want women around,” she agreed.
He was silent again for a long time. “Ayla,” he said, his voice almost cracked with strain, “maybe … maybe we shouldn’t share the same bed … if … But it honors the Mother to share Her Gift,” he blurted out.
How could she tell him truthfully that they didn’t have to stop sharing Pleasures? Iza had warned her never to tell anyone, particularly a man, about the secret medicine. “I don’t think you should worry about it,” she said. “I don’t know for sure if it is a man that causes children, and if the Great Mother chooses, She can choose any time, can’t She?”
“Yes, and it has worried me. Yet if we avoid Her Gift, it might anger Her. She expects to be honored.”
“Jondalar, if She chooses, She chooses. If the time comes, we can make a decision then. I wouldn’t want you to offend Her.”
“Yes, you’re right, Ayla,” he said, somewhat relieved.
With a twinge of regret, Ayla decided she would keep taking the medicine that prevented conception, but she dreamed of having babies that night, some with long blond hair, and others who resembled Rydag and Durc. It was near morning when she had a dream that took on a different dimension, ominous and otherworldly.
In the dream she had two sons, brothers whom no one would guess were brothers. One was tall and blond, like Jondalar, the other, older one, she knew was Durc though his face was in shadow. The two brothers approached each other from opposite directions in the middle of an empty, desolate, windblown prairie. She felt great anxiety; something terrible was about to happen, something she had to prevent. Then, with a shock of terror, she knew one of her sons would kill the other. As they drew closer, she tried to reach them, but a thick, viscous wall held her trapped. They were almost upon each other, arms raised as though to strike. She screamed.
“Ayla! Ayla! What’s wrong?” Jondalar said, shaking her.
Suddenly Mamut was beside him. “Wake up, child. Wake up!” he said. “It is only a symbol, a message. Wake up, Ayla!”
“But one will die!” she cried, still filled with the emotions of the dream.
“It is not what you think, Ayla,” Mamut said. “It may not mean one … brother will die. You must learn to search your dreams for their real meaning. You have the Talent; it is very strong, but you lack training.”
Ayla’s vision cleared and she saw two concerned faces looking at her, both tall men, one young and handsome, the other old and wise. Jondalar was holding up a stick of burning wood from the fireplace, to help her wake up. She sat up and tried to smile.
“Are you all right now?” Mamut asked.
“Yes. Yes. I am sorry to wake you,” Ayla said, lapsing into Zelandonii, forgetting the old man did not understand that language.
“We will talk later,” he said, smiling gently, and returned to his bed.
Ayla noticed the drape to the other occupied bed fall shut as she and Jondalar settled back down on their sleeping platform, and felt a little embarrassed that she had created such a stir. She cuddled to Jondalar’s side, resting her head in the hollow beneath his shoulder, grateful for his warmth and his presence. She was almost asleep when her eyes suddenly flew open again.
“Jondalar,” she said in a whisper, “how did Mamut know I dreamed about my sons, about one brother killing the other?” But he was already sleeping.
5
Ayla woke with a start, then lay still and listened. She heard a loud wail, again. Someone seemed to be in great pain. Concerned, she pushed the drape aside and looked out. Crozie was standing in the passageway near the sixth hearth with her arms outspread in an attitude of pleading despair calculated to draw sympathy.
“He would stab my breast! He would kill me! He would turn my own daughter against me!” Crozie shrieked as though she were dying, clutching her hands to her breast. Several people stopped to watch. “I give him my own flesh. Out of my own body …”
“Give! You didn’t give me a thing!” Frebec yelled. “I paid your Bride Price for Fralie.”
“It was trivial! I could have gotten much more for her, “Crozie snapped, her lament no more sincere than her scream of pain had been. “She came to you with two children. Proof of the Mother’s favor. You lowered her value with your pittance. And the value of her children. And look at her! Already blessed again. I gave her to you out of kindness, out of the goodness of my heart.…”
“And because no one else would take Crozie, even with her twice-blessed daughter,” a nearby voice added.
Ayla turned to see who had spoken. The young woman who had worn the beautiful red tunic the day before was smiling at her.
“If you had any plans to sleep late, you can forget them,” Deegie said. “They’re at it early today.”
“No. I get up,” Ayla said. She looked around. The bed was empty, and except for the two women, no one was around. “Jondalar up.” She found her clothes and bega
“No one is hurt. At least not that anyone can see. But I feel sorry for Fralie,” Deegie said. “It’s hard being caught in the middle like that.”
Ayla shook her head. “Why they shout?”
“I don’t know why they fight all the time. I suppose they both want Fralie’s favor. Crozie is getting old and doesn’t want Frebec to undermine her influence, but Frebec is stubborn. He didn’t have much before and doesn’t want to lose his new position. Fralie did bring him a lot of status, even with her low Bride Price.” The visitor was obviously interested and Deegie sat down on a platform bed while Ayla dressed, warming to her subject.
“I don’t think she’d put him aside, though. I think she cares for him, for all that he can be so nasty sometimes. It wasn’t so easy to find another man—one willing to take her mother. Everyone saw how it was the first time, no one else wanted to put up with Crozie. That old woman can scream all she wants about giving her daughter away. She’s the one who brought down Fralie’s value. I’d hate to be pulled both ways like that. But I’m lucky. Even if I were going to an established Camp instead of starting a new one with my brother, Tulie would be welcome.”
“Your mother go with you?” Ayla said, puzzled. She understood a woman moving to her mate’s clan, but taking her mother along was new to her.
“I wish she would, but I don’t think she will. I think she’d rather stay here. I don’t blame her. It’s better to be headwoman of your own Camp than the mother of one at another. I will miss her, though.”
Ayla listened, fascinated. She didn’t understand half of what Deegie said, and wasn’t sure if she believed she understood the other half.
“It is sad to leave mother, and people,” Ayla said. “But you have mate soon?”
“Oh, yes. Next summer. At the Summer Meeting. Mother finally got everything settled. She set such a high Bride Price I was afraid they’d never meet it, but they agreed. It’s so hard waiting, though. If only Branag didn’t have to leave now. But they’re expecting him. He promised he’d go back right away.…”
The two young women walked toward the entrance of the longhouse together, companionably, Deegie chatting and Ayla avidly listening.
It was cooler in the entrance foyer, but it wasn’t until she felt the blast of cold air when the drape at the front arch was pulled back that Ayla realized how much the temperature had dropped. The frigid wind whipped her hair back and tugged at the heavy mammoth hide entrance cover, billowing it out with a sudden gust. A light dusting of snow had fallen during the night. A sharp crosscurrent picked up the fine flakes, swirled them into pockets and hollows, then scooped out the wind-blasted crystals and flung them across the open space. Ayla’s face stung with a peppering of tiny hard pellets of ice.
Yet it had been warm inside, much warmer than a cave. She had put on her fur parka only to come out; she wouldn’t have needed extra clothing if she had stayed in. She heard Whinney neigh. The horse and the colt, still tied to his lead, were as far back as they could get from the people and their activities. Ayla started toward them, then turned back to smile at Deegie. The young woman smiled back, and went to find Branag.
The mare seemed relieved when Ayla neared, nickering and tossing her head in greeting. The woman removed Racer’s bridle, then walked with them down toward the river and around the bend. Whinney and Racer relaxed once the Camp was out of sight, and after some mutual affection, settled down to graze on the brittle dry grass.
Before starting back up Ayla stopped beside a bush. She untied the waist thong of her legged garment, but still was not sure what to do so the leggings wouldn’t get wet when she passed water. She’d had the same problem ever since she started wearing the clothes. She had made the outfit for herself during the summer, patterning it after the one she had made for Jondalar, which was copied from the clothing the lion had ripped. But she hadn’t worn it until they started on their trip of exploration. Jondalar had been so pleased to see her wearing clothes like his, rather than the comfortable leather wrap usually worn by women of the Clan, she decided to leave it behind. But she hadn’t discovered how to manage this basic necessity easily and she didn’t want to ask him. He was a man. How would he know what a woman needed to do?
She removed the close-fitting trousers, which required that she also remove her footwear—high-topped moccasins that wrapped around the lower pant legs—then spread her legs and bent over in her usual manner. Balancing on one foot to put the lower garment back on, she noticed the smoothly rolling river and changed her mind. Instead, she pulled her parka and tunic up over her head, took off her amulet from around her neck, and walked down the bank toward the water. The cleansing ritual should be completed, and she always did enjoy a morning swim.
She had planned to swish out her mouth, and rinse off her face and hands in the river. She didn’t know what means these people used to clean themselves. When it was necessary, if the woodpile was buried under ice and fuel was scarce, or if the wind was blowing hard through the cave, or if water was frozen so solid it was hard to break off enough even for drinking, she could do without washing, but she preferred to be clean. And in the back of her mind she was still thinking of the ritual, the completion of a purification ceremony after her first night in the cave—or the earthlodge—of the Others.
She looked out at the water. The current moved swiftly along the main channel, but ice in transparent sheets filmed puddles and the quieter backwaters of the river, and crusted white at the edge. A finger of the bank, sparsely covered with bleached and withered grass, stretched into the river forming a still pool between itself and the shore. A single birch tree, dwarfed to a shrub, grew on the spit of dirt.
Ayla walked toward the pool and stepped in, shattering the perfect pane of ice which glazed it. She gasped as the freezing water brought a hard shiver, and grabbed a skeletal limb of the small birch to steady herself, as she moved into the current. A sharp gust of freezing wind buffeted her bare skin, raising gooseflesh, and whipped her hair into her face. She clenched her chattering teeth and waded in deeper. When the water was nearly waist-high, she splashed icy water on her face, then with another quick indrawn breath of shock, stooped down and submerged up to her neck.
For all her gasps and shivers, she was used to cold water and, she thought, soon enough it would be impossible to bathe in the river at all. When she got out, she pushed the water off her body with her hands and dressed quickly. Tingling warmth replaced the numbing cold as she walked back up the slope from the river, making her feel renewed and invigorated, and she smiled as a tired sun momentarily bested the overcast sky.
As she approached the Camp she stopped at the edge of a trampled area near the longhouse and watched the several knots of people engaged in various occupations.
Jondalar was talking with Wymez and Danug, and she had no doubts as to the subject of the conversation of the three flint knappers. Not far from them four people were untying cords that had held a deer hide—now soft, flexible, nearly white leather—to a rectangular frame made of mammoth rib bones lashed together with thongs. Nearby, Deegie was vigorously poking and stretching a second hide, which was strung on a similar frame, with the smoothly blunted end of another rib bone. Ayla knew working the hide as it was drying was done to make the leather supple, but binding it to the mammoth bone frames was a new method of stretching leather. She was interested and noted the details of the process.
A series of small slits had been cut near the outside edge following the contour of the animal skin, then a cord was passed through each one, tied to the frame and pulled tight to stretch the hide taut. The frame was propped against the longhouse and could be turned around and worked from either side. Deegie was leaning with all her weight on the rib-bone staker, pushing the blunt end into the mounted hide until it seemed the long shaft would poke right through, but the strong flexible leather yielded without giving way.
A few others were busy with activities Ayla was not fam
Then Ayla noticed another person watching the Camp not far from her. She smiled as she went to join Rydag, but was startled to see him smile back. People of the Clan did not smile. An expression showing bared teeth usually denoted hostility on a face with Clan features, or extreme nervousness and fear. His grin seemed, for a moment, out of place. But the boy had not grown up with the Clan and had learned a friendlier meaning for the expression.
“Good morning, Rydag,” Ayla said, at the same time making the Clan greeting gesture with the slight variation that indicated a child was being addressed. Ayla noticed again the flicker of understanding at her hand signal. He remembers! she thought. He has the memories, I’m sure of it. He knows the signs, he would only have to be reminded. Not like me. I had to learn them.
She recalled Creb’s and Iza’s consternation when they discovered how difficult it was for her, compared with Clan youngsters, to remember anything. She had had to struggle to learn and memorize, while children of the Clan only had to be shown once. Some people had thought Ayla was rather stupid, but as she grew up she taught herself to memorize quickly so they wouldn’t lose patience with her.
But Jondalar had been astonished at her skill. Compared to others like herself, her trained memory was a wonder, and it enhanced her ability to learn. He was amazed at how easily she learned new languages, for example, almost without effort it seemed. But gaining that skill had not been easy, and though she had learned to memorize quickly, she never did fully comprehend what Clan memories were. None of the Others could; it was a basic difference between them.