The beating he gave her when he caught her hurt, but it was not so bad as the feeling inside herself of having failed, and in doing so having failed the Village Mother. Nor as bad as the humiliation of the belt being roped round her neck, and of being forced to lie yoked to someone whom in her mind she no longer thought of as Dom, but as this savage. He was asleep quite soon, properly so now, but she lay awake for a long time. If she had still had her stone knife she would have plunged it in his throat or breast, but she had nothing except her bare hands. And she knew her touch would waken him, and that against his strength she was powerless.
She slept at last, and woke and slept and woke, fitfully, through the long night.
The pool next day was like everything else here, as repulsive to her as once it had been inviting. But after he had pushed her in the water and jumped in after her, she had an uprush of hope. Here his strength was lessened, and her physical skill the greater. And perhaps there might be a spirit in the pool which would aid her. So she dived deeply and caught hold of his leg, and tried to drag him under.
She thought at first she was succeeding, as he struggled in vain to free himself—she had taken a deep breath before she dived and was sure she could hold out longer under water. But then, instead of trying to get away, he came at her, punching viciously, and even here his strength prevailed. So she broke clear and swam for the bank, climbed out of the pool and ran.
She had a good lead this time and she ran hard, but she did so with no real expectation of getting away. She had failed in this as in everything else: there was no friendly spirit in the pool, no hope or help anywhere. She ran out of the wood and down the hillside, but she knew he would catch her. When he did, and beat her so savagely, she thought he might be angry enough to kill her, and almost welcomed it. It had been silly to imagine that Gri might have escaped—he was dead like the Village Mother, like all her people. What use could there be in going on living? When the beating stopped suddenly she looked up at him, waiting for it to start again, even wanting it.
Then she heard the distant cry and knew what it was that had checked him. She saw the anger drain from his face, giving way to fear. He spoke, and though she had no idea what he said, she heard the tremor in his voice.
She followed him obediently back up the hill, and took cover when he drew her down. When he beckoned to her to come away with him she understood the gesture, and knew how great was his fear of those small dots farther up the valley—so much greater than her own because she had had her fill of fear and gone beyond it. She hated the hunters who were searching for them, but she hated Dom more because he had destroyed more, and a more precious thing, than they had. All she needed to do was cry out: they would hear her and come running. It would not matter what happened afterward as long as she saw Dom brought down and slain first.
For a moment she thought she would do that, and framed the cry in her throat. He beckoned her again, almost pleadingly. Then, really not knowing why she did so, she stifled the cry and followed him.
They traveled fast all that day and the next, Dom occasionally pausing on high ground to scan the horizon for pursuers. After that first sighting they saw none, but he kept up a frantic pace—running and walking, running and walking, rarely resting, impatient when they had to stop to look for food.
At night he was careful to find good cover; and at night he tied her to him again so that she could not escape. This time, weary from the day’s exertions, she slept heavily. In the morning Dom was awake early, dragging her to her feet: they ran southward through the dim cool dawn.
After two days with no sign of pursuit, Dom permitted their pace to slacken somewhat. They had come, also, into more level country, where it was possible to see for a long way. There were few trees here, and those there were bore no fruit. Instead Va searched for roots that could be eaten and they stayed their hunger on them, very grudgingly in Dom’s case.
When they had traveled several days across the plain the landscape changed again. There were more trees, though still barren of fruit, sandy soil with thin wiry grass, and many rocks. The loose earth was very hot in the sunshine, and tiring to her feet.
In the early evening, Dom killed a rabbit. He stalked it carefully, gesturing to Va to stay back, and had almost reached it when it took fright and tried to whisk away. He quickly flung his club, striking the animal as it ran, and despite her hatred she had to admire the skill with which he did it. He picked up the rabbit with a shout of satisfaction and displayed it triumphantly.
What happened next, though, sickened her utterly. He used his teeth to bite through the skin of the rabbit’s neck and quickly skinned it with his fingers. Then he tore a limb off the carcass and, putting it in his mouth, vigorously chewed it. Va watched, fascinated and appalled by the sight. She had known he was a savage, coming from a tribe of brutal killers, but she had not dreamed he would be an eater of raw flesh.
He finished that leg, tossing away the bone, and ripped off another leg to eat. Then, pausing, he tore away a third limb and threw it in Va’s direction. She made no attempt to catch it, and it fell on the sandy ground.
Dom spoke one of the words he had learned from her when she fed him fruit and berries by the pool.
“Eat. . . .”
He pointed at the rabbit’s leg. Va turned away in disgust, but she could still hear the noise of his chewing.
Darkness was falling, and he indicated that they would stay where they were for the night. He set Va to gathering grass to make a bed for him. The grass was thin, shorter than the grasses of the valley, and it took her a long time to get enough of it together.
Suddenly she felt very hungry—she had eaten nothing apart from a few roots much earlier in the day. The rabbit’s leg lay where it had fallen when Dom tossed it to her. Hungry though she was she could not contemplate eating it raw, but a thought came to her. There was a dead tree not far away, its branches withered and bleached by the sun. She went to it and broke some off, and collected them in a heap on the ground.
Dom watched but did not try to stop her as she did this; nor as she twirled one pointed stick in the hollow of another. But he started back when smoke appeared, and gave a grunt of amazement when the smoke turned to flame and ignited the dry grass she held close to it.
She made the fire, building up from twigs to thicker branches, and cautiously Dom drew closer. He pointed at the fire and asked her something, but she did not know what he was saying. Then he tapped his chest and said “Dom,” and pointing once more to the fire, asked again. She knew he wanted her to name it but stared at him in silence. Naming belonged to their first encounter, to the happy past which his cruelty had destroyed.
But he stood over her and hit her: so she named it:
“Fire.”
“Fire,” Dom repeated.
He put his hand down and she flinched, but he only touched her shoulder in what was plainly a sign of approval. She guessed then that his tribe had never known fire, except as an accidental thing. Even the Village Mother, she thought with misery, had not realized what savages they were.
When the fire died down Va put the rabbit leg in the embers. Dom watched her, silent again, his nose twitching as the smell of roasting rose in the night air. When it was done she hooked it out with a stick and allowed it to cool; then she took the leg and started to chew it.
The taste was good but she had little chance to enjoy it; Dom spoke to her peremptorily and stretched out his hand. Silently Va gave him the leg. He held it under his nose for a moment, sniffing, before he opened his mouth and started to gnaw at it. He grunted again, this time with pleasure.
He ate about half the meat off the leg and then, after patting her shoulder with his free hand in further approval, held out what was left. He was offering to let her eat it, but even though hunger cramped her stomach she would not touch it, soiled by his teeth. When she shook her head he looked as though he might be going t
o hit her, but instead returned to the leg and finished it off himself.
That night, his hunger satisfied and feeling secure at last from pursuit, he used her body for his pleasure. It was painful for her but no more than that: she could not hate him more than she did already.
• • •
They went on, day after day, their journey no longer urgent but steadily progressing south.
One day he had her make him a knife. They were in a rocky valley littered with flints, and he picked up one of them and said the word “knife” in her tongue. It was not the right kind of stone and she shook her head. Dom cuffed her, though not hard, and she searched for a stone that would be suitable.
She found one at last of the right size and thickness, and another jagged piece with which she could chip it. Dom sat close by and watched her as she worked. It was not easy—making knives required a skill that was developed by long practice—and the result, after hours of labor, was poor. The old men of the village, who were best at such things, would have laughed scornfully at the sight of it.
Dom, though, took it from her with evident satisfaction, pressing the point experimentally against his skin and touching her shoulder in a way which showed she had pleased him. Va stared at him, her face expressionless. The stains of her people’s blood—the blood of her father and brother—no longer marked his gleaming club of bone; but she had not forgotten them, nor the horrors of that day. She had made the knife at his command—she would have liked nothing better than to drive it into his heart.
She tried to kill him with it that very night. The knife was held in a slot in his leather belt, and while he slept she got her fingers onto it and cautiously eased it free. But he awoke while she was in the act, and twisted away from her like a cat. Involuntarily exerting his full strength, he dragged her after him by the noose around her neck. She almost choked as the thin leather cut deep into her throat.
After that, as was only to be expected, she was beaten. He was angry and the beating was severe, but once more the sense of having failed was harder to bear.
She had also shown him that, despite her apparent acquiescence, she was still not to be trusted. Although he wore the knife in his belt by day, from that point Dom took precautions at night, putting it out of her reach where they lay. It was impossible for her to get hold of it without disturbing him.
• • •
So they went on together, always traveling south. The land changed as they went—sometimes arid and rocky, sometimes grassland, sometimes thickly wooded—but was nowhere as rich and green as the valley had been. Finding water was frequently a problem, and once they went a whole day and most of the next without it before Dom’s keen eyes traced signs that led them to a water hole.
For the most part they lived on roots, but occasionally Dom found game. Usually this was in the form of such small animals as rabbits, but once he killed a young pig. He used the knife to cut it up and Va turned her head away, expecting him to eat the raw flesh as he had done before. But he said the word to her—“fire”—and Va found dry sticks and made a fire among the rocks. Dom watched her as he had watched her make the knife, and when the fire was crackling took a stick himself and twirled it against another piece, trying to make the fire come.
He could not do it: this also was something which required a special skill and long practice. But fire no longer alarmed him, and he threw on more sticks to increase the blaze. Va remembered she had once thought how good it would be to teach Dom things . . . how long ago that was!
The scent of roasting pig rose pungently in the air. Dom was ravenously hungry, and began to gnaw a piece before it was really cool enough to handle, pulling it away as it burned his mouth, but as compulsively bending forward to chew it again. When the first edge had been taken off his appetite, he indicated to Va that she could have one of the other pieces which he had dragged out of the embers. She accepted this time, her own hunger unbearably sharpened by the smell. It was the first meat she had eaten since she left the village.
Later she wept. It was not from any particular recollection of grief, but from a sadness that suddenly and unaccountably overwhelmed her. Dom stared at her, puzzled, then came to where she sat. He spoke in his own language, his voice friendly rather than harsh. When she went on weeping he put his hand on her shoulder. She jerked away and threw it off, and expected him to hit her; but he only looked at her and shook his head in bewilderment.
Next day they saw people. Dom saw them first—his hunter’s eyes were sharper than hers—and said something in a whisper that was a warning, fastening a hand on her wrist. He pointed, and she looked in that direction. It was open country, mostly rolling grassland studded with thorn bushes and now and then a small tree. Figures moved against the distant horizon: she counted more than ten of them.
She could see they were men, but that was all. They carried things in their hands but at this distance it was impossible to make out what they were. Not clubs of bone like Dom’s, at least. They might be stone knives, or something quite different.
So they were not Dom’s tribe, who anyway could not possibly have come so far south yet. They might be people like her own: people with skills, who lived in huts and grew corn and vegetables and kept livestock; people who made tools, and pots out of clay; people who laughed and sang. If she were to cry out they might come and rescue her from Dom, and then she could live with them.
But she could not be sure of that. It might be that even though not Dom’s tribe they were equally savage and cruel. She might only be exchanging this brute she knew for many she did not. She followed Dom’s lead, therefore, and kept silent. They watched the men pass across their field of vision and go away to the west. Not until some time afterward did Dom indicate that it was all right for them to go on. Va, as always, followed him, a few paces behind.
• • •
One morning when he unloosed her she noticed that her belt was frayed at the point where it had been looped about her neck. She thought about this during the day, examining the frayed place surreptitiously when Dom’s eyes were not on her. That night she stayed awake after Dom slept, and twisted her head until she could get that bit of the belt between her teeth. She chewed at it, careful to make no sound or movement which might wake him.
Although frayed the leather was very tough. Her jaw soon ached but she forced herself to keep on, resting awhile and chewing again. Her mouth was filled with the sour leather taste, which sickened her stomach. She heard night sounds all round: a jackal howled, briefly waking Dom, and she had to stop until he was once more soundly asleep. She knew that having started she must go through with it. Otherwise he would notice the marks of her teeth on the belt, and not only beat her but tie her more securely in the future.
She could scarcely believe it when the belt parted at last; and she lay there with the leather’s sourness against her tongue and her heart pounding. She listened and heard Dom’s breathing, steady and deep. Very carefully, moving barely an inch at a time, she shifted herself away from him. Once he groaned, and she froze into immobility, expecting a shout and a blow. Nothing happened. Gradually it became possible to move less cautiously, and so faster. She crawled through long grass and at last, trembling, stood erect.
She could just make out Dom’s sleeping form—she watched apprehensively but he did not stir. The night was very dark, but there was a silvery glow in the east which showed where the moon would rise. Va walked in that direction, treading lightly and warily long after she was sure that the sound of her footsteps could not reach him. When the moon came up she had been walking for more than half an hour.
At last she was free of him. The moonlight fell on a vast sea of grass whose crest waved softly in a breeze: nothing moved anywhere. He could not find her now, could not possibly track her in country such as this. She had only to walk on, and by morning she would be completely and finally beyond his reach.
To the
east, continuing the path which she had already taken? There the plain stretched away with no sign of anything to break the emptiness. West was no good because it would bring her back close to Dom, and south was the direction in which he had been taking her and in which, once he had given up looking for her, he himself would most probably go. North—the way they had come? But what was there for her there, except a trail of remembered misery that led, in the end, to her ruined home and the savages who had destroyed it?
East then—but what was there for her there, either? What was there for her anywhere? And she would be alone, having to find her own game if she wanted meat, and hunt and kill it. She had none of Dom’s strength and skill in things like that; nor his keen eyes to spy out animals, or men for that matter, before she herself was seen.
Va stood unmoving in the moonlight. She was free of Dom, but what good was the freedom? She hated him as much as ever but at this moment, staring into the limitless dark, she knew she also needed him. Perhaps it would have been better to die with her people, but she had not died. She was alive and wanted now to go on living. It would be so much harder to do that on her own than with Dom’s help; perhaps impossible.
She turned back, retracing her path. It was not easy with so few landmarks, but she saw a solitary bush she recalled, a jutting tooth of rock, a dead tree. It took her an hour to get to the place where he lay.
He was sleeping still. She went forward cautiously and stood over him. In the moonlight she saw the club and beyond it the knife, out of reach when she had been tied to him but no longer so. She could pick it up and stab him before he woke, avenging in his blood the blood of her father and brother. It was what she had most wanted to do, and nothing now stood in her way. She could kill him with a single thrust. And be alone.
She looked down at him and felt tears in her eyes, tears not of grief but of anger at her helplessness. Still careful not to wake him, she lay down at his side as she had done before.
When she awoke it was light and Dom was bending over her. He pointed to the severed belt and she bowed her head, prepared for the beating which must follow.
In the Beginning Page 9