by Jean M. Auel
She didn’t answer immediately. She wanted to say something that would change his mind, and tried frantically to think of a way to bring him closer to her, to keep him interested. The horses, he liked Racer. He liked riding him.
“Yes, there is,” she finally said, fighting to sound normal.
He had turned to go when she didn’t answer, but turned back quickly.
“You could help me train Racer … as long as you’re here. I don’t have as much time to take him out as I should.” She allowed herself to turn around and face him again.
Did he imagine that she looked pale, that she was trembling? “I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” he said, “but I’ll do what I can.” He started to say more, he wanted to tell her he loved her and that he was leaving because she deserved more. She deserved someone who would love her without reservation, someone like Ranec. He looked down while he searched for the right words.
Ayla was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears much longer. She turned to the mare and began to brush her again, then dropped the brush and was astride her and riding in one smooth action. Jondalar looked up and stepped back a few paces, surprised, and watched Ayla and the mare galloping up the slope, with Racer and the young wolf following behind. He stood there long after they were out of sight, then slowly walked back to the lodge.
The anticipation and tension were so intense on the night before the Spring Festival that no one could sleep. Both children and adults stayed up late. Latie was in a state of especially high excitement, feeling impatient one moment and nervous the next about the short puberty ceremony that would announce her readiness to begin preparations for the Celebration of Womanhood that would take place at the Summer Meeting.
Though she had reached physical maturity, her womanhood would not be complete until the ceremony that would culminate in the First Night of Pleasures when a man would open her so that she could receive the impregnating spirits joined by the Mother. Only when she was capable of motherhood was she considered a woman in all respects and, therefore, available for establishing a hearth and joining with a man to form a union. Until then, she would exist in the in-between state of no-longer-child but not-yet-woman, when she would learn about womanhood, motherhood, and men from older women and Those Who Served the Mother.
The men, except for Mamut, had been chased out of the Mammoth Hearth. All the women had gathered there while Latie was being instructed for the ceremony the next night, to offer moral support, advice, and helpful suggestions to the fledgling woman. Though she was there as an older woman, Ayla was learning as much as the young woman.
“You won’t have much to do tomorrow night, Latie,” Mamut was explaining. “Later you will have more to learn, but this is just to give notice. Talut will make the announcement, then I will give you the muta. Keep it in a safe place until you are ready to establish your own hearth.”
Latie, sitting in front of the old man, nodded, feeling shy, but rather enjoying all the attention.
“You understand, after tomorrow, you must never be alone with a man, or even speak to any man alone, until you are fully a woman,” Mamut said.
“Not even Danug or Druwez?” Latie asked.
“No, not even them,” he said. The old shaman explained that during this transitional time, when she lacked the protection of both the guardian spirits of childhood and the full power of womanhood, she was considered very vulnerable to malignant influences. She would be required to stay within the watchful eye of some woman at all times, and must not even be alone with her brother or her cousin.
“What about Brinan? Or Rydag?” the young woman asked.
“They are still children,” Mamut said. “Children are always safe. They have protective spirits hovering around all the time. That’s why you must be protected now. Your guardian spirits are leaving you, making way for the life force, the Mother’s power, to enter.”
“But Talut or Wymez wouldn’t harm me. Why can’t I talk to them alone?”
“Male spirits are drawn to the life force, just as you will find that men are drawn to you now. Some male spirits are jealous of the Mother’s power. They may try to take it from you, at this time, when you are vulnerable. They cannot use it to create life, but it is a powerful force. Without proper precaution, a male spirit may enter and even if he doesn’t steal your life force, he may damage or overpower it. Then you may never have children, or your desires may become those of a male, and you will wish to share Pleasures with women.”
Latie’s eyes opened wide. She didn’t know it was that dangerous. “I’ll be careful, I won’t let any male spirit come too close, but … Mamut …”
“What is it, Latie?”
“What about you, Mamut? You’re a man.”
Several women giggled, and Latie blushed. Maybe it was a stupid question.
“I would have asked the same question,” Ayla remarked. Latie gave her a grateful look.
“It is a good question,” Mamut said. “I am a man, but I also Serve Her. It would probably be safe to talk to me any time, and of course, for certain rituals when I am acting as One Who Serves, you will have to speak to me alone, Latie. But I think it would still be a good idea not to come just to visit me or to speak to me unless another woman is with you.”
Latie nodded, frowning seriously, beginning to feel the responsibility of establishing a new relationship with people she had known and loved all her life.
“What happens when a male spirit steals the life force?” Ayla asked, very curious about these interesting beliefs of the Mamutoi that were somewhat similar, yet very different from the traditions of the Clan.
“Then you have a powerful shaman,” Tulie said.
“Or an evil one,” Crozie added.
“Is that true, Mamut?” Ayla asked. Latie looked surprised and puzzled, and even Deegie, Tronie, and Fralie turned to Mamut with interest.
The old man gathered his thoughts, trying to choose his answer carefully. “We are only Her children,” he began. “It is difficult for us to know why Mut, the Great Mother, selects some of us for special purposes. We only know that She has Her reasons. Perhaps there are times when She has need for someone of exceptional power. Some people may be born with certain gifts. Others may be chosen later, but no one is chosen without Her knowledge.” Several eyes shifted toward Ayla, trying not to be conspicuous about it.
“She is the Mother of all,” he continued. “No one can know Her completely, in all Her faces. That’s why the face of the Mother is unknown on the figures that represent Her.” Mamut turned to the oldest woman of the Camp. “What is evil, Crozie?”
“Evil is malicious harm. Evil is death,” the old woman replied with conviction.
“The Mother is all, Crozie. The face of Mut is the birth of spring, the bounty of summer, but it is also the little death of winter. Hers is the power of life, but the other face of life is death. What is death but return to Her to be reborn? Is death evil? Without death, there can be no life. Is evil malicious harm? Perhaps, but even those who seem to work evil, do so for Her reasons. Evil is a force She controls, a means to accomplish Her purposes; it is only an unknown face of the Mother.”
“But what happens when a male force steals the life force of a woman?” Latie asked. She didn’t want philosophies, she wanted to know.
The Mamut looked at her speculatively. She was almost a woman, she had the right to be told. “She will die, Latie.”
The girl shivered.
“Even if it is stolen. Some may remain, enough for her to start a new life. The life force that resides in a woman is so powerful she may not know it was stolen until she is giving birth. When a woman dies in childbirth, it is always because a male spirit stole her life force before she was opened. That’s why it is not healthy to wait too long for the Womanhood ceremony. If the Mother had made you ready last fall, I would have talked to Nezzie about arranging a gathering of a few Camps to have a ceremony so you would not go through the winter unprotected, even th
ough it means you would have missed the excitement of the celebration at the Summer Meeting.”
I’m glad I won’t have to miss it, but …” Latie paused, still more concerned about life force than celebration, “does a woman always die?”
“No, sometimes she struggles to keep her life force, and if it is powerful, she may not only keep it, but the male force as well, or a part of it. Then she has the power of both in one body.”
“Those are the ones who become powerful shamans,” Tulie volunteered.
Mamut nodded. “Often, that is true. In order to learn how to use the power of both female and male, many people turn to the Mammoth Hearth for guidance, and many of those are called to Serve Her. They are often very good Healers, or Travelers in the Mother’s underworld.”
“What about the male spirit that does steal the life force?” Fralie asked, putting her new baby over her shoulder and patting gently. She knew it was a question her mother wanted to ask.
“That’s the one who is evil,” Crozie said.
“No,” Mamut said, shaking his head. “That is not true. The male force is just attracted to a woman’s life force. It cannot help itself, and men don’t usually know that their male force has taken a young woman’s life force until they discover they are not attracted to women, but prefer the company of other men. Young men are vulnerable then. They don’t want to be different, they don’t want anyone to know their male spirit may have harmed some woman. They often feel great shame, and rather than come to the Mammoth Hearth, they try to hide it.”
“But there are evil ones among them with great power,” Crozie said. “Power to destroy an entire Camp.”
“The force of male and female in one body is very powerful. Without guidance, it can become perverted and malicious, and may want to cause illness and misfortune, even death. Even without such power, a person wishing misfortune on another can cause it to happen. With it, the results are almost inevitable, but with proper guidance, a man with both forces can become just as powerful a shaman as a woman with both forces, and is often more careful to use it only for good.”
“What if a person like that doesn’t want to be a shaman?” Ayla asked. She may have been born with her “gifts” but she still had feelings of being pushed into something she wasn’t sure she wanted.
“They don’t have to,” Mamut said. “But it’s easier for them to find companionship, others like themselves, from among Those Who Serve the Mother.”
“Do you remember those Sungaea travelers we met many years ago, Mamut?” Nezzie asked. “I was young then, but wasn’t there some confusion about one of their hearths?”
“Yes, I remember, now that you mention it. We were just returning from the Summer Meeting, several Camps still traveling together when we met them. No one was quite sure what to expect, there had been some raiding, but finally we had a friendship fire with them. Some Mamutoi women got upset because one Sungaea man wanted to join them in their ‘mother’s place.’ It took a lot of explaining to make it understood that the hearth which we thought consisted of one woman and her two co-mates was really one man and his two co-mates, except that one of them was a woman, and one of them was a man. The Sungaea referred to him as ‘she.’ He was bearded, but dressed in women’s clothes, and though he had no breasts, he was ‘mother’ to one of the children. He certainly acted like the child’s mother. I’m not sure if the child had been given to him by the woman of that hearth, or by another woman, but I was told that he experienced all the symptoms of pregnancy, and the pain of delivery.”
“He must have wanted to be a woman very much,” Nezzie commented. “Maybe he didn’t steal some woman’s life force. Maybe he was born in the wrong body. That can happen, too.”
“But did he have stomachaches every moon time?” Deegie asked. “There’s the test of a woman.” Everyone laughed.
“Do you have moon time stomachaches, Deegie? I can give you something to help, if you want,” Ayla said.
“I may ask, next time.”
“Once you have a child, it won’t be so bad, Deegie,” Tronie said.
“And when you’re carrying, you don’t have to worry about absorbent packing, and disposing of it properly,” Fralie said. “But you do look forward to having them,” she added, smiling at the sleeping face of her small but healthy daughter, and wiping away a dribble of milk from the corner of her mouth. She looked up at Ayla, suddenly curious. “What did you use when you were … younger?”
“Soft leather straps. They work well, especially if you need to travel, but sometimes I folded them over, or stuffed them with mouflon wool, or fur, or even bird down. Sometimes soft fluff from plants, crushed together. Never with dried mammoth dung, before, but it works, too.”
Mamut had the ability to efface his presence and fade in the background when he chose, so that the women forgot he was there and spoke freely in a way they would never have done if another man had been there. Ayla was aware of him, however, and observed him quietly observing them. Finally, when the conversation slowed down, he spoke to Latie again.
“Some time soon, you will want to find a place for your personal communion with Mut. Pay attention to your dreams. They will help you find the right place. Before you visit your personal shrine, you will have to fast, and purify yourself, always acknowledge the four directions and the underworld and sky, and make offerings and sacrifices to Her, particularly if you want Her help, or a blessing from Her. It’s especially important when the time comes that you want to have a child, Latie, or when you learn you are going to have one. Then you must go to your personal shrine and burn a sacrifice to Her, a gift that will go up to Her in the smoke.”
“How will I know what to give Her?” Latie asked.
“It could be something you find or something you make. You will know if it feels right. You will always know.”
“When you want a special man, you can ask Her, too,” Deegie said, with a conspiratorial smile. “I can’t tell you how many times I asked for Branag.”
Ayla glanced at Deegie, and resolved to find out more about personal shrines.
“There is so much to learn!” Latie said.
“Your mother can help you, and Tulie, too,” Mamut said.
“Nezzie has asked me and I’ve agreed to be a Watching Woman this year, Latie,” Tulie mentioned.
“Oh, Tulie! I’m so glad,” Latie said. “Then I won’t feel so alone.”
“Well,” the headwoman said, smiling at the girl’s eager welcome, “it’s not every year that the Lion Camp has a new woman.”
Latie frowned with concentration, then asked in a soft voice, “Tulie, what is it like? In the tent, I mean. That night.”
Tulie looked at Nezzie, and smiled. “Are you a little worried about it?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Don’t worry. It will all be explained to you, you’ll know what to expect.”
“Is it anything like the way Druwez and I played when we were children? He would bounce on me so hard … I think he was trying to be Talut.”
“Not really, Latie. Those were children’s games, you were only playing, trying to be grown up. You were both very young then, too young.”
“That’s true, we were very young,” Latie said, feeling very much older now. “Those are games for little children. We stopped playing like that a long time ago. In fact, we don’t play anything any more. Lately, neither Danug nor Druwez will even talk to me very much.”
“They will want to talk to you,” Tulie said. “I am sure of it, but remember, you must not talk to them very much, now, and not ever be alone with them.”
Ayla reached for the large waterbag that was hanging by a leather strap from a peg pounded into one of the supporting posts. It was made from the stomach of a giant deer, a megaceros, which had been cured to maintain its naturally watertight character. It was filled through the lower opening, which was folded over and closed off. A short piece of a foreleg bone with a natural hollow in the middle had been grooved all the
way around near one end. To form a pouring spout, the skin of the opening of the deer stomach was tied to the bone by wrapping a cord tightly around it at the groove.
Ayla pulled out the stopper—a thin strip of leather that had been passed up through the hollow and knotted in one place several times—poured water into the watertight basket she used for making her special morning tea, and pushed the leather knot back into the pouring spout to close it off. The red-hot cooking stone sputtered as she dropped it into the water. She stirred it around a few times to draw off as much heat from the stone as possible, then fished it out with two flat sticks, and put it back in the fire. With the damp sticks, she picked up another hot stone and dropped it into the water. When the water was simmering, she dropped in a measured amount of a mixture of dried leaves, roots, and particularly the fine vinelike stems of golden thread and left it to steep.
She had been especially careful to remember to take Iza’s secret medicine. She hoped the powerful magic would work for her as well as it had worked for Iza for so many years. She did not want a baby now. She was too unsure.
After she dressed, she poured the tisane into her personal drinking cup, then sat down on a mat near the fire and tasted the strong-tasting, rather bitter drink. She had grown accustomed to the taste in the morning. This was her time for waking up, and it was part of her morning routine. As she sipped, she mused about the activities that would take place that day. This was it, the auspicious day everyone had been looking forward to, the day of Spring Festival.
The happiest event, to her, would be the naming of Fralie’s baby. The tiny infant had grown and thrived, and no longer had to be held next to her mother’s breast every moment. She was strong enough to cry now, and could sleep alone during the day, though Fralie rather liked keeping her close and often used the carrier out of preference. The Hearth of the Crane was much happier these days, not only because they shared the joy of the baby, but because Frebec and Crozie were learning they could live without arguing every moment. Not that there weren’t still problems, but they were coping better, and Fralie herself was taking a more active role in trying to mediate.