by Jean M. Auel
“Why has the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi come here at this time?” he said, speaking now in Mamutoi. “There is sickness, and great sadness at this Camp. Did you not see the signs?”
“Yes, we saw the signs,” Talut said. “We have with us one who is a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, a skilled Healer. The runner, Ludeg, who passed by here some days ago, told us of your troubles. We were preparing to travel to our Summer Meeting, but first, Ayla, our Healer, wished to come here to offer her skills. One of us was related to one of you; we are kin. We came.”
The man looked at the woman standing beside him. It was obvious that she was grieving, and she gathered herself together with some effort.
“It is too late,” she said. “They are dead.” Her voice trailed off in a wail, and she cried out in anguish. “They are dead. My children, my babies, my life, they are dead.” Two people stepped up on either side of the woman and led her away.
“My sister has suffered a great sorrow,” the man said. “She has lost both a daughter and a son. The girl was nearly a woman, the boy a few years younger. We all grieve.”
Talut shook his head in sympathy. “It is indeed a great sorrow. We share your grief, and offer whatever solace we may. If it is within your custom, we would like to stay to add our tears to yours as they are returned to the breast of the Mother.”
“Your kindness is appreciated, and will always be remembered, but there are still those among us who are sick. It may be dangerous for you to stay. It may be dangerous for you to have come.”
“Talut, ask him if I can look at the ones who are still sick. I may be able to help them,” Ayla said quietly.
“Yes, Talut. Ask if Ayla may look at the sick ones,” Mamut added. “I think she will be able to say if it’s safe for us to stay.”
The man with the red face looked hard at the old man sitting on the horse. He had been amazed when he first saw the horses, but he did not want to seem overwhelmed, and he was so numbed with grief he had put his curiosity aside for the moment, while he acted as spokesman for his sister, and his Camp. But when Mamut spoke, the strange sight of a man sitting on the back of a horse was suddenly brought to his awareness with new impact.
“How does that man come to be sitting on a horse?” he finally blurted out. “Why does the horse stand still for it? And that other one, back there?”
“It is a long story,” Talut said. “The man is our Mamut, and the horses answer to our Healer. When there is time, we will be happy to tell you about it, but first, Ayla would like to look at your sick ones. She may be able to help them. She will be able to tell us if the evil spirits still linger, and if she can contain them and make them harmless; whether it is safe for us to stay.”
“You say she is skilled. I must believe you. If she can command the horse spirit, she must have powerful magic. Let me speak to those within.”
“There is one other animal you should know about,” Talut said, then turned to the woman. “Call him, Ayla.”
She whistled, and even before Rydag could let him go, Wolf had wriggled free. The Sungaea man and other bystanders were startled as the young wolf came racing toward them, but even more surprised when he stopped at Ayla’s feet, and looked up at her with expectation. At her signal, he dropped down to his stomach, but his alert attention focused on the strangers made them uneasy.
Tulie had been carefully observing the reactions of the Sungaea Camp and quickly realized what a powerful impression the tractable animals had made. They had enhanced the stature of the people they were associated with, and the Lion Camp as a whole. Mamut, by the simple act of sitting on the back of the horse, had garnered prestige. They watched him with wary glances, and his words had carried great authority, but the response to Ayla was even more revealing. They looked at her with awe, and a kind of fearful reverence.
The headwoman realized that she had grown accustomed to the horses, but she recalled her own apprehension the first time she had seen Ayla with her horses, and it wasn’t hard to put herself in their place. She had been there when Ayla brought the tiny wolf pup to the lodge, and she had watched him grow up, but looking at Wolf as a stranger might see him, she realized he would not be seen as a puppyish young animal. He might be young but, to all appearances, he was nearly a full-grown wolf, and the horse was a mature mare. If Ayla could bend the will of high-strung horses and the spirit of independent wolves to her command, what other forces could she control? Especially when told she was the daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, and a Healer.
Tulie wondered what kind of reception they would receive when they arrived at the Summer Meeting, but she wasn’t at all surprised when Ayla was invited in to examine the ailing members of the Camp. The Mamutoi settled down to wait. When Ayla came out, she went to Mamut, Talut, and Tulie.
“I think they have what Nezzie calls spring sickness, fever, and tightness in the chest, and trouble breathing, except they got it later in the season, and harder,” Ayla explained. “Two older people died earlier, but it is most sad when children die. I’m not sure why they did. Young people are usually strong enough to recover from this kind of sickness. Everyone else seems to be over the worst of it. Some of them are coughing a lot, and I can help make them a little more comfortable, but no one seems seriously ill any more. I would like to fix something to help the mother. She is taking it very hard. I can’t blame her. I am not absolutely certain, but I don’t think it will endanger us to stay for the burial. I don’t think we should stay inside their lodges, though.”
“I would have suggested we set up our own tents, if we decided to stay,” Tulie said. “It’s hard enough for them without having strangers in their midst all the time, and they aren’t even Mamutoi. Sungaea are … different.”
Ayla was awakened in the morning by the sound of voices not too far from the tent. She quickly got up, dressed, and looked out. Several people were digging a long, narrow trench. Tronie and Fralie were outside, sitting near a fire nursing their babies. Ayla smiled and joined them. The smell of sage tea rose from a steaming cooking basket. She scooped out a cup and sat with the two women, sipping the hot liquid.
“Are they going to bury them today?” Fralie asked.
“I think so,” Ayla said. “I don’t think Talut wanted to ask outright, but I got that impression. I can’t understand their language, though I can catch a few words now and then.”
“They must be digging the grave. I wonder why they are making it so long?” Tronie said.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad we’ll be leaving soon. I know it’s right for us to stay, but I don’t like burials,” Fralie said.
“No one does,” Ayla said. “I wish we could have gotten here a few days earlier.”
“You don’t know if you could have done anything for those children anyway,” Fralie said.
“I feel so sorry for the mother,” Tronie commented. “It would be hard enough to lose one child, but to lose two at the same time … I don’t know if I could stand it.” She cuddled Hartal to her, but it only made the toddler squirm to get away.
“Yes. It is hard to lose a child,” Ayla said. Her voice was so grim it made Fralie look, and wonder. Ayla put her cup down and got up. “I saw some wormwood growing nearby. The root makes a very strong medicine. I don’t often use it, but I want to make something to calm and relax the mother, and it needs to be strong.”
The Lion Camp observed or peripherally participated in various activities and ceremonies during the day, but toward evening the atmosphere changed, became charged with an intensity that caught up even the visitors. The heightened emotions evoked genuine cries of sorrow and grief from the Mamutoi when the two children were solemnly carried out of a lodge on hammocklike biers, and brought around to each person for a final farewell.
As the people who were carrying the stretchers slowly walked by the mourning visitors, Ayla noticed that the children had been clothed in beautifully made and elegantly decorated finery, as though dressed for an important festival. She could not help
but be impressed and intrigued. Pieces of variously dyed and naturally colored leathers and furs had been carefully stitched together into intricate” geometric patterns in making the tunics and long trousers, outlined and highlighted by solid areas that were filled in with thousands of small ivory beads. A stray thought passed through her mind. Had all the work been done using only a sharp aw!? Maybe someone would appreciate the small, sharp-pointed, ivory shaft with the hole in the end.
She also noticed headbands and belts, and across the shoulders of the girl, a cape with fascinating designs that were worked into a material which appeared to have been constructed out of strands of the underwool shed by the passing woolly beasts. She wanted to touch it, examine it closely, and learn how it had been made, but it would not have been appropriate. Ranec, standing beside her, noticed it, too, and commented on the intricate pattern of right-angled spirals. Ayla hoped that before they left, she could find out more about how it was made, perhaps in exchange for one of her ivory points with a hole.
Both children were also adorned with jewelry made of shells, animal canines, bone; the boy even had a large, unusual stone which had been pierced to wear as a pendant. Unlike the adults whose hair was in disarray and covered with ashes, their hair was neatly combed and arranged in elaborate styles—the boy in braids, the girl with large buns on both sides of her head.
Ayla could not dispel the feeling that the children were only sleeping and would wake up any moment. They looked too young, too healthy, with their round-cheeked, unlined faces, to be gone, to have passed into the realm of the spirits. She felt a shudder pass through her, and involuntarily glanced toward Rydag. She caught Nezzie’s eye and looked away.
Finally the bodies of the children were brought to the long, narrow trench. They were lowered into it and placed head to head. A woman with a peculiar headdress and a long beaded tunic stood up and began a keening, high-pitched chant that sent shivers through everyone. She wore many necklaces and pendants around her neck that jangled and clicked when she moved, and several loose ivory bracelets around her arms, consisting of several separate half-inch-wide bands. Ayla realized they were similar to the ones some of the Mamutoi used.
A deep reverberating drumbeat sounded with the familiar tone of a mammoth skull drum. Keening and chanting, the woman began to weave and sway, rising up on her toes and lifting her feet, sometimes facing different directions, but staying in one place. As she danced, she waved her arms about sharply and rhythmically, causing her bracelets to rattle. Ayla had met her, and though they had not been able to converse, she felt drawn to her. Mamut had explained that she was not a medicine woman as Ayla was, but one who could communicate with the spirit world. She was the Sungaea counterpart of Mamut—or Creb, Ayla realized with a jolt. It was still difficult for her to conceive of a woman mog-ur.
The man and woman with red faces sprinkled powdered red ochre over the children, making Ayla think of the red ochre salve that Creb had rubbed on Iza’s body. Several other things were ceremoniously added to the grave: shafts of mammoth tusk that had been straightened, spears, flint knives and daggers, carvings of a mammoth, a bison, and a horse—not as well made as Ranec’s, Ayla thought. She was surprised to see a long ivory staff, decorated with a circular, spoked, wheellike carving to which feathers and other objects were attached, laid beside each child. When the people of the settlement joined in the wailing, keening song of the woman, Ayla quietly leaned forward and whispered to Mamut, “Those staffs look like Talut’s. Are they Speaking Staffs?”
“Yes, they are. The Sungaea are related to the Mamutoi, more closely than some people want to admit,” Mamut said. “There are some differences, but this burial ceremony is very much like ours.”
“Why would they put Speaking Staffs in a grave with children?”
“They are given those things which they will need when they wake up in the spirit world. As the daughter and son of the headwoman, they are a sister and brother who were destined to become co-leaders, if not in this lifetime, then the next,” Mamut explained. “It is necessary to show their rank so they do not lose status there.”
Ayla watched for a while, then, when they started to put the dirt back in, she spoke to Mamut again.
“Why are they buried like that, head to head?”
“They are brother and sister,” he said, as though the rest was self-explanatory. Then he saw her puzzled expression and continued, “It can be a long, difficult, and confusing Journey to the spirit world, especially for those who are so young. They need to be able to communicate, to help and comfort each other, but it is an abomination to the Mother for a brother and sister to share Pleasures. If they wake up side by side, they may forget they are brother and sister, and couple by mistake, thinking they were sleeping together because they were meant to be joined. Head to head, they can encourage each other on the Journey, and still not be confused about their relationship when they reach the other place.”
Ayla nodded. It seemed logical, but as she watched the grave beings filled in, she fervently wished they had gotten there a few days sooner. Maybe she couldn’t have helped, but she could have tried.
Talut stopped at the edge of a small waterway, looked upstream and then downstream, then consulted the marked piece of ivory he held in his hand. He checked the position of the sun, studied some cloud formations in the north, and sniffed the wind. Finally he examined the area nearby.
“We camp here for the night,” he said, shrugging off his haversack and packframe. He walked toward his sister as she was deciding where the primary tent would be placed, so the adjoining ones that utilized part of the same structural supports would have plenty of level ground. “Tulie, what would you say to stopping to do a little trading? I was looking at these maps Ludeg made. It didn’t occur to me at first, but seeing where we are, look,” he said, showing her two different pieces of ivory with marks scratched on them, “here’s the map showing the way to Wolf Camp, the new location of the Summer Meeting, and here’s the quick one he made showing the way to the Sungaea Camp. From here, it wouldn’t be much out of our way to visit Mammoth Camp.”
“You mean Musk-Ox Camp,” Tulie said, with annoyed disdain. “It was presumptuous of them to rename their Camp. Everyone has a Mammoth Hearth, but no one should name a Camp for the mammoth. Aren’t we all Mammoth Hunters?”
“But Camps are always named after the headman’s hearth, and their new headman is their Mamut. Besides, that doesn’t mean we can’t trade with them—if they are not gone for the summer. You know they are related to Amber Camp, and they always have some amber to trade,” Talut said, knowing his sister’s weakness for the warm, gold-hued stones of petrified resin. “Wymez says they have access to good flint, too. We have plenty of reindeer hides, not to mention some nice furs.”
“I don’t know how a man can establish a hearth when he doesn’t even have a woman, but I just said they were presumptuous. We can still trade with them. Of course we should stop, Talut.” The headwoman’s expression changed to an enigmatic smile. “Yes, by all means. I think it would be interesting for the ‘Mammoth’ Camp to meet our Mammoth Hearth.”
“Good. We’d better leave early, then,” Talut said, but he regarded her with puzzlement, and shook his head wondering what his clever and astute sister was thinking.
When the Lion Camp reached a large sinuous river gouging a channel between steep banks of loess soil, similar to the setting near their lodge, Talut headed out to a promontory between ravines and carefully scanned the surrounding terrain. He saw deer and aurochs near the water on the floodplain below, grazing in a green meadow dotted with small trees. Some distance farther, he noticed a large pile of jumbled bones against a high bank where the river turned sharply. Tiny figures scuttled over the accumulation of dried bones, and he saw several of them carrying away pieces.
“They are still here,” he announced. “They must be building.”
The travelers trooped down a slope toward the Camp, situated on a broad terrace no more
than fifteen feet above the level of the river, and if Ayla had been surprised at the lodge of the Lion Camp, she was astounded by the Mammoth Camp. Rather than a single large, sod-covered, semisubterranean longhouse that Ayla had likened to a cave or even a human-sized burrow, in this Camp several individual round lodges were clustered together on the terrace. They, too, were solid and sturdy under a thick layering of sod covered with clay, and patches of grass grew around the edges, but not on the top. They reminded Ayla of nothing so much as huge, bald, marmot mounds.
As they approached, she could understand why the tops were bare. Just as they did, the Mammoth Camp used the roofs of their dwellings as viewing platforms. Two of the lodges each supported a crowd of onlookers, and though the watchers had turned their attention to the visitors, that was not the reason they were up on the rounded roofs. When the Lion Camp passed around a lodge that blocked their view, Ayla saw the object of their interest, and was astonished.
Talut had been right. They were building. Ayla had overheard Tulie’s remarks about the name these people had chosen for themselves, but after seeing the lodge they were making, it seemed most appropriate. Though it might end up looking like all the others when it was completed, the way they used mammoth bones as structural supports seemed to capture a special quality of the animal. It was true that the Lion Camp had used mammoth bones in the supporting framework of their lodge, and had selected certain pieces and trimmed them to fit, but the bones used in this dwelling did more than support. They were selected and arranged so that the structure managed to convey the essence of the mammoth in a way that expressed the beliefs of the Mamutoi.