by Jean M. Auel
Ayla examined the baby carefully while she was cleaning her. She seemed perfect, just exceptionally small and her cry was weak. Ayla wrapped her in a soft skin blanket and handed her to Crozie. When Nezzie and Tulie had taken away the birthing blanket, and Ayla made sure Fralie was clean and comfortable, packed with an absorbent padding of mammoth wool, hen new daughter was put in the crook of Fralie’s arm. Then, she motioned to Frebec to come and see the first daughter of his hearth. Crozie hovered close.
Fralie unwrapped her, then looked up at Ayla with tears in her eyes. “She’s so little,” she said, cuddling the tiny infant. Then she untied the front of her tunic and put the baby to her breast. The newborn nuzzled, found the nipple, and from the smile on Fralie’s face, Ayla knew she suckled. But in a few moments, she let go, and seemed exhausted from the effort.
“She’s so small … will she live?” Frebec asked Ayla, but it was more a plea.
“She is breathing. If she can suckle, there is hope, but to live, she will need help. She must be kept warm, and she must not be allowed to use what little strength she has for anything but nursing. All the milk she drinks must be for growing,” Ayla said. Then she gave both Frebec and Crozie a stern look. “There can be no more fighting at this hearth if you want her to live. It will make her upset, and you cannot let her become upset if she is to grow. She should not even be allowed to cry, she does not have the strength to cry. It will take her milk away from growing.”
“How can I keep her from crying, Ayla? How will I know when to feed her if she doesn’t cry?” Fralie said.
“Both Frebec and Crozie must help you because she must be with you every moment, just as though you were still pregnant, Fralie. I think the best way would be to make a carrier that will hold her to your breast. That way, you will keep her warm. She will be comforted by your closeness and the sound of your heart, because she is used to it. But most important, any time she wants to nurse, she need only turn her head to reach your nipple, Fralie. Then she won’t use up strength she needs for growing with crying.”
“What about changing her?” Crozie asked.
“Coat her skin with some of that soft tallow I gave you, Crozie; I’ll make more. Use clean, dry, dung packed around her to absorb her waste. Throw it out when she needs changing, but don’t move her too much. And you must rest, Fralie, and not move around too much with her. It will do you good, too. We need to try to keep your cough calmed down. If she can survive the next few days, then every day she lives will make her stronger. With your help, Frebec, and Crozie, she has a chance.”
A feeling of subdued hope pervaded the lodge as the drapes were closed on a red sun settling into a bank of clouds hovering on the horizon. Most people had finished their evening meal, and were stoking fires, cleaning things up, putting down children, and gathering together for the evening conversation and company. Several people were sitting around the fireplace of the Mammoth Hearth, but conversation was held down to a low murmur, as though loud voices were somehow inappropriate.
Ayla had given Fralie a mild relaxing drink, and left her to sleep. She would get little enough sleep in the days to come. Most infants settled into a routine of sleeping for a reasonable time before waking up to be fed, but Fralies new baby couldn’t nurse very long at one time, and therefore didn’t sleep much before needing to nurse again. Fralie would have to get her sleep in a series of short naps, too, until the baby grew stronger.
It was almost strange to see Frebec and Crozie working together, helping each other to help Fralie, and being exceedingly courteous and restrained. It might not last, but they were trying, and some of their animosity seemed to be draining off.
Crozie had gone to bed early. It had been a difficult day and she wasn’t so young any more. She was tired and she expected to be up to help Fralie later. Crisavec was still sleeping with Tulie’s son, and Tronie was keeping Tasher. Frebec sat alone at the Crane Hearth, looking at the fire, feeling mixed emotions. He felt anxious and protective over the tiny infant, the first child of his hearth, and fearful. Ayla had put her in his arms to hold for a few moments while she and Crozie were making Fralie comfortable. He stared at her, awed that someone so small could be so perfect. Her diminutive hands even had fingernails. He was afraid to move, afraid he would break her”, and was greatly relieved when Ayla took her back, yet he was reluctant to let her go.
Suddenly Frebec stood up and started down the passageway. He didn’t want to be alone on this night. He stopped at the edge of the Mammoth Hearth and looked at the people sitting around the fire. They were the younger people of the Camp, and in the past, he would have walked by them on his way to the cooking hearth to visit with Talut and Nezzie or Tulie and Barzec or Manuv or Wymez or, lately, with Jondalar, and sometimes Danug. Even though Crozie was often at the cooking hearth, it was easier to ignore her than to face the possibility of being ignored by Deegie or disdained by Ranec. But Tornec had been friendly earlier, and his woman had given birth, and he knew how it felt. Frebec took a deep breath and walked toward the fireplace.
They broke into laughter just as he reached Tornee, and for a moment, he thought they were laughing at him. He was tempted to leave.
“Frebec! There you are!” Tornec said.
“I think there is still some tea left,” Deegie said. “Let me pour you some.”
“Everyone tells me she’s a beautiful little girl,” Ranec said. “And Ayla says she has a chance.”
“We’re lucky to have Ayla here,” Tronie said.
“Yes, we are,” Frebec replied. No one said anything for a moment. It was the first good word Frebec had ever said about Ayla.
“Maybe she can be named at the Spring Festival,” Latie said. Frebec hadn’t noticed her sitting next to Mamut in the shadow. “That would be good luck.”
“Yes, it would,” Frebec said, reaching for the cup Deegie gave him, and feeling a little more comfortable.
“I’m going to have a part in the Spring Festival, too,” she announced, half-shyly and half-proudly.
“Latie is a woman,” Deegie told him with the slightly condescending air of a big sister informing another adult who is knowledgeable.
“She will have her Rites of First Pleasures at the Summer Meeting this year,” Tronie added.
Frebec nodded, and smiled at Latie, not quite sure what to say.
“Is Fralie still sleeping?” Ayla asked. “She was when I left.”
“I think I will go to bed, too,” she said, getting up. “I’m tired.” She put her hand on Frebec’s arm. “Will you come and get me when Fralie wakes up?”
“Yes, I will, Ayla … and … uh … thank you,” he said softly.
“Ayla, I think she’s growing,” Fralie said. “I’m sure she feels heavier, and she’s starting to look around. She’s nursing longer, too, I think.”
“It’s been five days. I think she may be getting stronger,” Ayla agreed.
Fralie smiled, then tears came to her eyes. “Ayla, I don’t know what I would have done without you. I’ve been blaming myself for not coming to you sooner. This pregnancy didn’t feel right from the beginning, but when mother and Frebec started fighting, I couldn’t take sides.”
Ayla just nodded.
“I know Mother can be difficult, but she has lost so much. She was a headwoman, you know.”
“I guessed as much.”
“I was the oldest of four children, I had two sisters and a brother.… I was about Latie’s age when it happened. Mother took me to the Deer Camp to meet the son of their headwoman. She wanted to arrange a union. I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t like him when I met him. He was older, and more concerned about my status than me, but before the visit was over, she managed to get me to agree. The arrangements were made for our joining at the Matrimonial the next summer. When we got back to our Camp … oh, Ayla, it was awful …” Fralie closed her eyes, trying to control herself.
“No one knows what happened … there was a fire. It was an old lodge, built by Mothers uncl
e. People said the thatching, and wood, and bone must have been all dried out. They think it must have started at night … no one got out …”
“Fralie, I’m sorry,” Ayla said.
“We had no place to go, so we turned around and went back to the Deer Camp. They were sorry for us, but not happy about it. They were afraid of bad luck, and we’d lost status. They wanted to break the agreement, but Crozie argued before the Council of Sisters and held them to it. The Deer Camp would have lost influence and status if they’d backed out. I was joined that summer. Mother said I had to. It was all we had left, but there was never much happiness in the union, except for Crisavec and Tasher. Mother was always fighting with them, particularly with my man. She was used to being headwoman, used to making decisions and having respect. It wasn’t easy for her to lose it. She couldn’t give it up. People started thinking of her as a bitter, nagging corn-plainer, and didn’t want to be around her.” Fralie paused, then continued.
“When my man was gored by an aurochs, the Deer Camp said we were bad luck, and made us leave. Mother tried to arrange another union for me. There was some interest. I still had my birth status, they can’t take away what you are born with, but no one wanted Mother. They said she was bad luck, but I think they just didn’t like her complaining all the time. I couldn’t blame her, though. They just didn’t understand.
“The only one who made an offer was Frebec. He didn’t have much to offer”—Fralie smiled—“but he offered everything he had. I wasn’t sure about him at first. He never had much status, and he doesn’t always know how to act—he embarrasses Mother. He wants to be worthwhile, so he tries to make himself important by saying nasty things about … other people. I decided to go away with him for a trial. Mother was surprised when we came back and I told her I wanted to accept his offer. She never has understood …”
Fralie looked at Ayla, and smiled gently. “Can you imagine what it was like being joined with someone who didn’t want you, and never did care about you from the beginning? Then finding a man who wanted you so much he was willing to give everything he had, and promise everything he would ever get? That first night, after we went away together, he treated me like … a special treasure. He couldn’t believe he had the right to touch me. He made me feel … I can’t explain it … wanted. He’s still like that when we’re alone, but he and Mother started fighting right away. When it became a matter of pride between them over whether I would see you, I couldn’t take away his self-respect, Ayla.”
“I think I understand, Fralie.”
“I kept trying to tell myself that things weren’t so bad, and your medicine did help me. I always believed he would change his mind when the time came, but I wanted it to be his idea, not something I forced him to do.”
“I’m glad he did.”
“But I don’t know what I would have done if my baby had …”
“We can’t be sure yet, but I think you are right. She does seem stronger,” Ayla said.
Fralie smiled. “I’ve decided on a name for her, I hope it makes Frebec happy. I’ve decided to call her Bectie.”
Ayla was standing by an empty storage platform sorting through a variety of dried vegetation. There were small piles of barks, roots, and seeds, little stacks of stems, bowls of dried leaves, flowers, fruits, and some whole plants. Ranec approached her, trying to be inconspicuous about hiding something behind his back. “Ayla, are you busy?” he said.
“No, not really, Ranec. I’ve been going through my medicines, to see what I will be needing. I was out today with the horses. Spring is really coming—it’s my favorite season. Green buds are starting, and pussy willows—I’ve always loved those fuzzy little flowers. Soon everything will be greening.”
Ranec smiled at her enthusiasm. “Everyone is looking forward to the Spring Festival. That’s when we celebrate new life, new beginnings, and with Fralie’s new baby and Latie’s new womanhood, we have much to celebrate.”
Ayla frowned slightly. She wasn’t sure if she was looking forward to her part in the Spring Festival. Mamut had been training her, and some very interesting things had been happening, but it was a little frightening. Not as much as she thought it would be, though. Everything would be fine. She smiled again.
Ranec had been watching her, wondering what was going through her mind, and trying to think of a way to approach the subject he had come for. “The ceremony could be especially exciting this year …” He paused, searching for the right words.
“I suppose you’re right,” Ayla said, still thinking about her part in the festival.
“You don’t sound very excited,” Ranec said, smiling.
“Don’t I? I really am looking forward to Fralie naming the baby, and I’m so pleased for Latie. I remember how happy I was when I finally became a woman, and how relieved Iza was. It’s just that Mamut is planning something and I’m not sure about it.”
“I keep forgetting that you haven’t been Mamutoi very long. You don’t know what a Spring Festival is all about. No wonder you’re not anticipating it like everyone else.” He shifted his feet nervously and looked down, then back at her. “Ayla, you might anticipate it more, I would, too, if …” Ranec stopped, decided to change his approach, and held out the object he’d been hiding. “I made this for you.”
Ayla saw what he held. She looked up at Ranec, her eyes wide with surprise and delight when she saw it. “You made this for me? But why?”
“Because I wanted to. It’s for you, that’s all. Think of it as a spring gift,” he said, urging her to take it.
She took the ivory carving, holding it carefully, and examined it. “This is one of your bird-woman figures,” Ayla said with awe and pleasure, “like the one you showed me before, but it’s not the same one.”
His eyes lit up. “I made it especially for you, but I should warn you,” he said with mock seriousness, “I put magic in it, so you will … like it, and the one who made it.”
“You didn’t have to put magic in it for that, Ranec.”
“You like it, then? Tell me, what do you think of it?” Ranec asked, though he usually didn’t ask people what they thought of his work; it didn’t matter to him what they thought. He worked for himself, and to please the Mother, but this time he wanted, more than anything, to please Ayla. He had put his heart, his yearning, and his dreams into every notch he cut, every line he etched, hoping this carving of the Mother would work magic on the woman he loved.
She looked closely at the figure and noticed the downward pointing triangle. It was the symbol of woman she had learned, and one reason three was the number of generative power and sacred to Mut. The angle was repeated as chevrons, on what would be the front of the carving, if it were a woman, or the back, if it were a bird. The whole object was decorated with rows of chevrons and parallel lines in a fascinating geometric design, which was pleasing to look at by itself, but suggested more.
“It’s beautifully made, Ranec. I especially like the way you did these lines. The pattern reminds me of feathers, in a way, but it also makes me think of water, like on the maps,” Ayla said.
Ranec’s smile turned into a delighted grin. “I knew it! I knew you would see it! The feathers of Her spirit when She becomes a bird and flies back in spring, and the birth waters of the Mother that filled the seas.”
“It’s wonderful, Ranec, but I can’t keep it,” she said, trying to give it back.
“Why not? I made it for you,” he said, refusing to take it.
“But what can I give you back? I have nothing to equal the value of this.”
“If that is what’s worrying you, I have a suggestion. You have something I want that is worth much more than this chunk of ivory,” Ranec said, smiling, his eyes flashing with humor … and love. He became more serious. “Join with me, Ayla. Be my woman. I want to share a hearth with you, I want your children to be the children of my hearth.”
Ayla was reluctant to answer. Ranec could see her hesitation, and kept on talking, trying to persuade h
er. “Think how much we have in common. You’re a Mamutoi woman, I’m a Mamutoi man, but both of us were adopted. And if we join, neither of us would have to move to another Camp. We could both stay in Lion Camp, and you could still take care of Mamut, and Rydag, and that would make Nezzie happy. But most important, I love you, Ayla, I want to share my life with you.”
“I … don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes, Ayla. Let’s announce it, include a Promise Ceremony in the Spring Festival. Then we can formalize the union at the Matrimonial this summer, when Deegie does.”
“I’m not sure … I don’t think …”
“You don’t have to answer yet.” He had hoped she was ready to agree immediately. Now he realized it might take more time, but he didn’t want her to say no. “Just tell me you’ll give me the chance to show you how much I love you, how much I want you, how happy we can be together.”
Ayla remembered what Fralie had said. It did make her feel special to know a man wanted her, that there was a man who cared about her and didn’t keep avoiding her all the time. And she liked the thought of staying here where people loved her, people she loved. The Lion Camp were like her family, now. Jondalar would never stay. She had known that for a long time. He wanted to go back to his own home, and he had wanted to take her with him, once. Now he didn’t seem to want her at all.
Ranec was nice, she did like him, and joining with him would mean staying here. And if she was going to have another baby, she should have it soon. She wasn’t getting any younger. In spite of what Mamut had said, eighteen years seemed old to her. It would be so wonderful to have another baby, she thought. Like Fralie’s baby. Only stronger. She could have a baby with Ranec. Would it have Ranec’s features, his deep black eyes, his soft lips, his short wide nose, so different from the large, sharp, beaky noses of the men of the Clan? Jondalar’s nose was between them in size and shape … why was she thinking about Jondalar?