by Jean M. Auel
“When you thought he didn’t love you, then I was good enough? Is that how it was?” Ranec said. “All the time we spent together, you were wishing it was him. You never loved me at all.”
“I wanted to love you, Ranec. I care about you. I wasn’t always wishing for Jondalar, when I was with you. You made me happy many times.”
“But not always. I wasn’t good enough. You were perfect, but I wasn’t always perfect for you.”
“I never looked for perfect. I love him, Ranec. How long could you love me knowing that I love someone else?”
“I could love you until I die, Ayla, and into the world beyond. Don’t you understand? I will never love anyone again the way I love you. You can’t leave me.” The dark, magnetic artist was pleading with her, with tears in his eyes; he had never pleaded for anything before in his life.
Ayla was feeling his pain, and she wished there was something she could do to make it less. But she could not give him the one thing he wanted. She could not love him the way she loved Jondalar.
“I’m sorry, Ranec. Please. Take the muta.” She held it out again.
“Keep it!” he said, with as much venom as he could. “Maybe I’m not good enough for you, but I don’t need you. I can have my pick of this place. Go ahead, run off with your flint knapper. I don’t care.
“I can’t keep it,” Ayla said, putting the muta down on the ground at his feet. She bowed her head and turned to go.
She walked back along the river, with pain in her heart for the pain she had caused. She hadn’t meant to hurt him so badly. If there had been any other way, she would have chosen it. She hoped that never again would someone love her that she couldn’t love back.
“Ayla?” Ranec called out. She turned back and waited for him to catch up with her. “When are you leaving?”
“As soon as I can get packed.”
“It’s not true, you know. I do care.” His face was etched with grief and pain. She wanted to run to him, comfort him, but she didn’t dare encourage him. “I always knew you loved him, from the beginning,” he said. “But I loved you so much, I wanted you so much, I didn’t want to see it. I tried to convince myself that you loved me, and I hoped, in time, you really would.”
“Ranec, I’m so sorry,” she said. “If I hadn’t loved Jondalar first, I would have loved you. I could have been happy with you. You were so good to me, and you always made me laugh. I do love you, you know. Not the way you want, but I will always love you.”
His black eyes were full of anguish. “I’ll never stop loving you, Ayla. I’ll never forget you. I’ll take this love to my grave,” Ranec said.
“Don’t say that! You deserve more happiness than that.”
He laughed, a bitter, hard laugh. “Don’t worry, Ayla. I’m not ready for that grave, yet. At least not enough to make it happen. And someday, I may join with a woman, make a hearth, and she will have children. I may even love her. But no other woman will ever be you, and I will never feel about another woman the way I feel about you. You can only happen once in any man’s lifetime.” They started walking back.
“Will it be Tricie?” Ayla asked. “She loves you.”
Ranec nodded. “Perhaps. If she’ll have me. Now that she has a son, she will be in even greater demand, and she had plenty of offers before.”
Ayla stopped, and looked at Ranec. “I think Tricie will have you. She’s hurt now, but that’s because she loves you so much. But there is something else you should know. Her son, Ralev, he’s your son, Ranec.”
“You mean he’s the son of my spirit?” Ranec frowned. “You are probably right.”
“No, I don’t mean he’s the son of your spirit. I mean Ralev is your son, Ranec. He is the son of your body, your essence. Ralev is your son just as much as he is Tricie’s son. You started him growing inside her, when you shared Pleasures with her.”
“How do you know I shared Pleasures with her?” Ranec said, looking a little uncomfortable. “She was a red-foot last year, and very dedicated.”
“I know because Ralev was born, and he is your son. That’s how all life is started. That’s why Pleasures honor the Mother. It is the beginning of life. I know this, Ranec. I promise you, it is true, and this promise cannot be broken,” Ayla said.
Ranec frowned with concentration. It was a strange new idea. Women were mothers. They gave birth to children, daughters and sons. But could a man have a son? Could Ralev be his son? Yet Ayla said it. It had to be. She carried the essence of Mut. She was the Spirit Woman. She might even be the Great Earth Mother incarnate.
Jondalar checked the packs again, then led Racer to the head of the path, where Ayla was saying goodbye. Whinney was packed, and waiting patiently, but Wolf was running excitedly between them, knowing something was happening.
It had been difficult for Ayla to leave behind the people she loved when she was expelled from the Clan, but she’d had no choice. Saying goodbye, voluntarily, to the people she loved in the Lion Camp, knowing she would never see them again, was even harder. She had cried so many tears already this day, she wondered how she had any more to shed, yet her eyes watered anew each time she hugged another friend.
“Talut,” she sobbed, hugging the big, red-haired headman. “Did I ever tell you it was your laughter that made me decide to visit? I was so scared of the Others, I was ready to ride right back to the valley, until I saw you laughing.”
“You are going to have me crying in a moment, Ayla. I don’t want you to go.”
“I already am crying,” Latie said. “I don’t want you to go, either. Remember the first time you let me touch Racer?”
“I remember when she let Rydag ride Whinney,” Nezzie said. “I think that was the happiest day of his life.”
“I’m going to miss the horses, too,” Latie wailed, as she clung to Ayla.
“Maybe you can get a little horse of your own someday, Latie,” Ayla said.
“I will miss the horses, too,” Rugie said.
Ayla picked her up and gave her a squeeze. “Then maybe you’ll have to get a little horse, too.
“Oh, Nezzie,” Ayla cried. “How can I thank you? For everything? You know, I lost my mother when I was little, but I’m very lucky. I’ve had two mothers to replace her. Iza took care of me when I was a little girl, but you are the mother I needed to become a woman.”
“Here,” Nezzie said, handing her a package, and trying not to give way to tears entirely. “It’s your Matrimonial tunic. I want you to have it for your joining with Jondalar. He is like a son to me, too. And you are my daughter.”
Ayla hugged Nezzie again, then looked up at her big, strapping son. When she hugged Danug, he hugged her back with no reservations. She felt the maleness of his strength, and the warmth of his body, and a momentary spark of his attraction to her as he whispered in her ear, “I wish you had been my red-foot.”
She backed off, and smiled. “Danug! You are going to be such a man! I wish I were staying to see you grow into another Talut.”
“Maybe, when I’m older, I’ll make a long Journey and come to visit you!”
She hugged Wymez next, and she looked for Ranec, but he was not around. “I’m sorry, Wymez,” she said.
“I am sorry, too. I wanted you to stay with us. I would have liked to have seen the children you would have brought to his hearth. But Jondalar is a good man. May the Mother smile on your Journey.”
Ayla took Hartal from Tronie’s arms, and was delighted at his giggle. Then Manuv picked up Nuvie, for Ayla to kiss.
“She is here only because of you. I will not forget it, and neither will she,” Manuv said. Ayla embraced him, then Tronie and Tornec, too.
Frebec held Bectie, while Ayla made her last farewells to Fralie and the two boys. Then she embraced Crozie. She held back stiffly at first, though Ayla felt her shaking. Then the old woman clutched her, tight, and there was a tear glistening in her eye.
“Don’t forget how to make white leather,” she commanded.
“I wo
n’t, and I have the tunic with me,” Ayla said, then with a sly smile, she added, “But, Crozie, from now on you should remember. Never play Knucklebones with a member of the Mammoth Hearth.”
Crozie looked at her in surprise, and then cackled a laugh, as Ayla turned to Frebec. Wolf had joined them, and Frebec rubbed behind his ears.
“I’m going to miss this animal,” he said.
“And this animal,” Ayla said as she gave him a hug, “is going to miss you!”
“I will miss you, too, Ayla,” he said.
Ayla found herself in the middle of a crush of people from the Aurochs Hearth, as all the children and Barzec crowded around her. Tarneg was there, too, with his woman. Deegie waited with Branag, and then the two young women collapsed in each other’s arms in a new freshet of wet eyes.
“In some ways, it’s harder to say goodbye to you than anyone, Deegie,” Ayla said. “I never had a friend like you, who was my age, and could understand me.”
“I know, Ayla. I can’t believe you’re leaving. Now, how are we going to know who has a baby first?”
Ayla backed away and looked at Deegie, critically, then smiled. “You will. You already have one started.”
“I wondered about it! Do you really think so?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it.”
Ayla noticed Vincavec was standing beside Tulie. She brushed his tattooed cheek lightly.
“You surprised me,” he said. “I didn’t know he would be the one. But then, everyone has weaknesses.” He gave Tulie a knowing glance.
Vincavec was displeased that his reading of the situation was so far off. He had totally discounted the tall blond man, and he was somewhat miffed at Tulie because she had accepted his matched pieces of amber knowing that it was not likely he would be getting what he was bargaining for, in spite of the fact that he had pushed them on her. He had been making pointed comments implying that she had accepted his amber because of her weakness for it, and that she didn’t give full value. Since they were ostensibly a gift, she couldn’t return them, and he was taking full value in his cutting remarks.
Tulie glanced at Vincavec before she approached Ayla, making sure he was watching, then she gave the young woman a warm and sincere embrace.
“I have something for you. I’m sure everyone will agree, these are perfect for you,” she said; then dropped two beautiful, matched pieces of amber in Ayla’s hand. “They will match your Matrimonial tunic. You might consider wearing them on your ears.”
“Oh, Tulie,” Ayla said. “This is too much. They are beautiful!”
“They are not too much, Ayla. They were meant for you,” Tulie said, looking back triumphantly at Vincavec.
Ayla noticed Barzec was smiling, too, and Nezzie was nodding her head in agreement.
It was hard for Jondalar to leave the Lion Camp, too. They had made him welcome, and he had grown to love them. Many of his goodbyes were tearful. The last person he spoke to was Mamut. They embraced and rubbed cheeks, then Ayla joined them. “I want to thank you,” Jondalar said. “I think you knew from the beginning that I had a hard lesson to learn.” The old shaman nodded. “But I have learned a great deal from you and the Mamutoi. I have learned what has meaning and what is superficial, and I know the depths of my love for Ayla. I have no more reservations. I will stand beside her against my worst enemies or best friends.”
“I will tell you now something else you must know, Jondalar,” Mamut said. “I knew her destiny was with you from the beginning, and when the volcano erupted, I knew she would be leaving with you soon. But remember this. Ayla’s destiny is much greater than anyone knows. The Mother has chosen her, and her life will have many challenges, and so will yours. She will have need of your protection, and the strength your love has gained. That is why you had to learn that lesson. It is never easy to be chosen, but there are always great benefits, too. Take care of her, Jondalar. You know, when she worries about others, she forgets to take care of herself.”
Jondalar nodded. Then Ayla hugged the old man, smiling through dewy eyes.
“I wish Rydag were here. I miss him so much. I learned lessons, too. I wanted to go back for my son, but Rydag taught me that I must let Durc live his own life. How can I thank you for everything, Mamut?”
“No thanks are necessary, Ayla. Our paths were meant to cross. I have been waiting for you without knowing it, and you have given me much joy, my daughter. You were never meant to go back for Durc. He was your gift to the Clan. Children are always a joy, but pain, too. And they all must lead their own lives. Even Mut will let Her children go their own way, someday, but I fear for us if we ever neglect Her. If we forget to respect our Great Earth Mother, She will withhold Her blessings, and no longer provide for us.”
Ayla and Jondalar mounted the horses, waved, and said last goodbyes. Most of the encampment had come to wish them a good Journey. As they started out, Ayla kept looking for one last person. But Ranec had already said his goodbyes and he could not face a more public farewell.
Ayla finally saw him when they started down the path, standing alone, off by himself. With a great heaviness of spirit, she stopped and waved to him.
Ranec waved back, but in his other hand he held clutched to his breast a piece of ivory, carved into the shape of a transcendent bird-woman figure. Into every notch that was carved, every line that was etched, he had lovingly carved every hope of his aesthetic and sensitive soul. He had made it for Ayla, hoping it would charm her to his hearth, as he hoped his laughing eyes and sparkling wit would charm her to his heart. But as the artist of great talent and charm and laughter watched the woman he loved ride away, no smile graced his face, and his laughing black eyes were filled with tears.
Turn the page to read an exciting preview from Jean M. Auel’s latest novel—
The Land of Painted Caves
Available spring 2011 from Crown Publishers
1
The band of travelers walked along the path between the clear sparkling water of Grass River and the black-streaked white limestone cliff, following the trail that paralleled the right bank. They went single file around the bend where the stone wall jutted out closer to the water’s edge. Ahead a smaller path split off at an angle toward the crossing place where the flowing water spread out and became shallower, bubbling around exposed rocks.
Before they reached the fork in the trail, a young woman near the front suddenly stopped, her eyes opening wide as she stood perfectly still, staring ahead. She pointed with her chin, not wanting to move. “Look! Over there!” she said in a hissing whisper of fear. “Lions!”
Joharran, the leader, lifted his arm, signaling the band to a halt. Just beyond the place where the trail diverged, they now saw pale-tawny cave lions moving around in the grass. The grass was such effective camouflage, however, that they might not have noticed them until they were much closer, if it hadn’t been for the sharp eyes of Thefona. The young woman from the Third Cave had exceptionally good vision, and though she was quite young, she was noted for her ability to see far and well. Her innate talent had been recognized early and they had begun training her when she was a small girl; she was their best lookout.
Near the back of the group, walking in front of three horses, Ayla and Jondalar looked up to see what was causing the delay. “I wonder why we’ve stopped,” Jondalar said, a familiar frown of worry wrinkling his forehead.
Ayla observed the leader and the people around him closely, and instinctively moved her hand to shield the warm bundle that she carried in the soft leather blanket tied to her chest. Jonayla had recently nursed and was sleeping, but moved slightly at her mother’s touch. Ayla had an uncanny ability to interpret meaning from body language, learned young when she lived with the Clan. She knew Joharran was alarmed and Thefona was frightened.
Ayla, too, had extraordinarily sharp vision. She could also pick up sounds above the range of normal hearing and feel the deep tones of those that were below. Her sense of smell and taste were also keen, but she had neve
r compared herself with anyone, and didn’t realize how extraordinary her perceptions were. She was born with heightened acuity in all her senses, which no doubt contributed to her survival after losing her parents and everything she knew at five years. Her only training had come from herself. She had developed her natural abilities during the years she studied animals, chiefly carnivores, when she was teaching herself to hunt.
In the stillness, she discerned the faint but familiar rumblings of lions, detected their distinctive scent on a slight breeze, and noticed that several people in front of the group were gazing ahead. When she looked, she saw something move. Suddenly the cats hidden by the grass seemed to jump into clear focus. She could make out two young and three or four adult cave lions. As she started moving forward, she reached with one hand for her spear-thrower, fastened to a carrying loop on her belt, and with the other for a spear from the holder hanging on her back.
“Where are you going?” Jondalar asked.
She stopped. “There are lions up ahead just beyond the split in the trail,” she said under her breath.
Jondalar turned to look, and noticed movement that he interpreted as lions now that he knew what to look for. He reached for his weapons as well. “You should stay here with Jonayla. I’ll go.”
Ayla glanced down at her sleeping baby, then looked up at him. “You’re good with the spear-thrower, Jondalar, but there are at least two cubs and three grown lions, probably more. If the lions think the cubs are in danger and decide to attack, you’ll need help, someone to back you up, and you know I’m better than anyone, except you.”
His brow furrowed again as he paused to think, looking at her. Then he nodded. “All right … but stay behind me.” He detected movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced back. “What about the horses?”
“They know lions are near. Look at them,” Ayla said.
Jondalar looked. All three horses, including the new young filly, were staring ahead, obviously aware of the huge felines. Jondalar frowned again. “Will they be all right? Especially little Gray?”