by Watson, Tom
The tribe had created five massive fires in the courtyard outside of the large decorated building. Four of the fires burned at the four corners of the court while one burned in the middle. The result was an area relatively warm, regardless of the chilled wind. Around the fire, many costumed dancers danced intricate dances. Most of the people of the local tribe wore ocher paints and danced topless with large amounts of beads and feathers around their belts and around their necks. Men and women alike wore skirts of flax, reed, leather, or bead-work. The oils on their skins and the five large blazing fires allowed for such free dancing even as the cold season began to fill the lands with cold winds. At least two hundred people had gathered for dancing and food. Near the dancing, food was prepared and much merrymaking was at hand. Ember and Kis’tra danced into the group while drums were beaten, and singing was heard. Festivals were one of the most important activities of any tribe and any possible reason to have one was often enough.
After a while, the dancing and the music slowed, and a path was made in front of the large hut. The wood frame door was opened and a tall man whose body was painted intricately in rich black lines from head to toe emerged. He wore a long beaded loin cloth apron in front of his breechcloth and a fine flax shirt which hung to just below his waist. In his hand, he held a staff with complex designs carved into it and the body of an extremely heavy-set woman with exaggerated features on the top.
“He is Priest Duruth. He speaks for the Gods of this land,” Nor'Gar, not far away from Kis’tra and Ember, whispered to his people, in his native tongue. Ember understood most of what Nor'Gar had said and Kis’tra translated the rest for her. A man who speaks for the Gods? In Ember's tribe, a woman, Morning Dew usually, would interpret the God's will, never a man. Ember reflexively rubbed her hands on Blossom's Goddess necklace as Duruth walked forward and theatrically observed the entire spectacle. He looked serious as he pronounced something in his language to the people. He walked a little forward and continued speaking. Nor'Gar translated as best he could, using the trade language for Ember's sake, in a hushed voice.
“He-say, the-Gods are-angry, and more-dancing, needed.” Suddenly Nor'Gar looked shocked, “He-say, another-man, found-dead, today! He, just-learn. He-say, the-Gods kill-him, because they-angry. He-die, no wound. A-man, name Aris.”
Beside Ember, a man from the tribe said something hateful under his breath and Ember gave him a curious look. The older man looked like a farmer with curly brown hair and a simple leather skirt wrapped around his waist with leather shoes, much like many of the other men. At first, Ember thought he was outraged by the idea that someone was found dead, just as other people around him who were also muttering in disbelief, but the look on his face was more menacing. He almost looked like he was hatefully looking at Duruth. Ember thought this very odd, but assumed that more complicated affairs were in play than she understood.
After the pronouncement, the dance was slightly less fun taking on a more religious demeanor. These people had apparently experienced recent and unexplained deaths and were appealing to their Gods for help. With the death announced, the festival had become an important ritual event. Interestingly, the high priest seemed under the impression that the Gods were killing the people.
What Gods are these who take lives at random, but then again, don't people die all of the time? Ember was quite confused by her own thoughts as the night wound on. In her tribe, the Goddess of the snow was known to kill people at random, as well as the God of fertility, but this sounded more like a murder.
Towards the end of the event, Priest Duruth stood and held out his hands to silence the crowd. Once everyone had stopped, he motioned, and a woman was brought into the view of everyone. She was bent over with her hair obscuring her face. Her skin had been covered with black soot. As she passed by Ember, she could be heard whimpering and sobbing as she was led by several elder women. Ember glanced around and found that the events, as they unfolded, were obvious to those from the tribe and apparently expected. Ember and Kis’tra each had little idea what was going on, so they simply watched. The sobbing woman wore a simple leather tunic and no decorations. Ember supposed that she might be the widow of the slain man.
The elder women slowly walked the ash-covered woman around the main fire, the opposite way everyone had been dancing. Towards the end of the first circle, the woman began to wail a mournful sort of song, or perhaps appeal to the Gods. Ember was not sure, but the words sounded like a song. She sang her words off key and in between sobbing fits. Her words were foreign to Ember, but she could feel this young woman's pain. Memories of the slain people at the raided village returned to Ember, and she became moved to tears herself.
After a short time, the woman gave in to her emotions and was helped away from the festivities. Duruth spoke to his people in a short and low manner, simply turning and walking back to his hut. Everyone appeared moved by the display. Ember supposed she had just witnessed some sort of death ritual, though she couldn't imagine something like this occurring in her tribe. Ember wanted to help find out why the men were being found dead and she simply could not believe that the Gods of this land were killing people for an unknown reason.
The next day, the trading started in earnest. Wares were laid out on mats and hides for inspection. Men and women stood around making deals and talking about the quality of wares. The mood had improved a little, but in a hut not far away a woman could be heard crying every now and then. She was the wife of the now dead man. Ember had watched many older women enter the hut, seemingly to console her. She moved closer to the trading to take her mind off of the death. Kis’tra was sitting with Zhek and four others striking deals on quality deer and rabbit pelts. Kis’tra was wearing dark rabbit mittens as she showed the dark rabbit pelts she had to sell. Ember recognized them as her mittens, made by Kis’tra and sat down beside her.
“What do I need to-trade for my-mittens,” she asked? Kis’tra laughed and held out a hand to point at a large bundle of flax fiber string she had traded for already.
“I-charge high price! Good furs.” Next to the group, Sv'en sat with a collection of deer antler toys. He had little figures carved from the smooth bone. A little girl was holding an antler carved doll with a tiny leather skirt and rich coloring. Her mother offered a quality piece of obsidian to which Sv'en gave a little bow and a smile quickly snatching the obsidian and giving the tiny girl a pat on the head. Nor'Gar walked back and forth watching the trading and ensuring everything was selling for the right prices. After a short time, he walked up to Ember and gave her a pat on the back.
“We-do much-better, than-usual. Great-trades.” With that, Nor'Gar hurried off to help with an exchange of the yellow rocks which was starting. Ember shrugged at Kis’tra, and they both exchanged a laugh.
Ember stood and walked around to see what could be had. As she walked around, she couldn't help but notice a man from the trade village staring at her. He looked like an average farmer with a pointed leather hat and simple robust leather clothing. Ember thought she had seen him before, but was unsure. He gave Ember a wink and walked away suddenly. The encounter left her confused and a little creeped out, but she soon forgot when E'lyse came by and showed Ember a beaver skin with a strap she had purchased for her baby.
“I-can, hold-baby,” she said, all smiles, with her barely understandable trade tongue. Ember wished deeply that she could speak with people more readily and freely. She must sound very dumb to these people without the ability to articulate her speech. Ember smiled and nodded using the general expression for something of quality; a firm shake of her hand, as though holding a heavy object.
“Good-trade, E'lyse.” The trading went well the first day with many wares changing hands. Ember considered trying to sell her warm ice, or was it fallen sky? Well, she would hang onto it until the right time. She had seen nothing here which was worth the shiny bobble. Perhaps she might find an object she would need for her journey, or something remarkable. Otherwise, Ember was content with keep
ing the wondrous object for herself. Ember saw an old woman painting the bodies of traders with intricate designs featuring endless bands of swirls and dots. Beside her, a woman was trying to interest Ven'Gar in some sort of Pot with something inside. Ember could only guess that it was the magical brew.
Trading is fun, Ember mused to herself.
Chapter 15: The Cold Season
The tribe and village of Nes will one day become what is now eastern France. It is possible, given their early adoption of large scale farming and trade, that this very people will one day become a significant part of one of the Celtic tribes of the region. At this point in history, they are not actually even considered Proto-Celtic. Rather, they were an early member of the Cardium Pottery Culture, spanning much of southern Europe. The Cardium Pottery Culture of 5500 BCE would likely have surpassed Ember's own people in their degree of technological advancement and general cultural development.
While observing the Nes, Ember would have observed many noticeable advances including large scale dedicated farming operations, domestication of animals, a primitive well, and a budding textile market. Their pottery would even differ from Ember's, featuring little patterns made by the imprinting of shells against the necks of the pots. However, the technology of the Nes is beyond that of Ember's people, but so too are some of their modern problems. The Nes have crime, murder, plague, and many of the other ailments of large groups of people living closely together, not suffered as heavily by Ember's river people.
The difference in cultures is quite impressive and Ember has much adjusting to do if she is to fit in with the people of this mega-village. Perhaps Ember can learn something from these people. Perhaps they will learn something from her.
With much of the trading completed during the first day of trade, the group had returned to their huts to await the end of the cold season. Some sporadic trading occurred afterward but never anything like the first trade day. Each member of the group helped the trading village, which turned out to be called Nes, in any way they could in exchange for being housed and fed. The influx of labor allowed for repairs and work which would usually have had to wait until the warm season. The result of this work would be increased time for work in the warm season focused around food and growth instead of repairs. Such labor helped the tribe greatly and more than made up for feeding the traders. As the days became colder and the nights became harsh, the tribe of Nes remained indoors more and more. The circular huts turned out to be quite efficient at keeping heat and warming everyone with their large central hearths. Their walls were made of large poles with a lattice of thin sticks in between, and mud caked in the holes.
Each day, the men would go forth to bring back firewood or fresh meat while the women would clean and cook the food and tend to the hearths. Ember and Kis’tra had taken to helping E'lyse with her coming child. E'lyse and Gar'ath had moved into Kis’tra and Ember's hut. The room was getting cramped, but the more people in the hut, the warmer it was. E'lyse took to removing her skirt and lying with a deer hide over the waist and her swollen belly open to the air. She would have to get up to urinate often, and she merely wrapped the hide around her when she did. At this point, she was better off staying in the hut. Gar'ath kept to his work while Ember and Kis’tra took turns watching E'lyse and performing odd jobs where they could. All thoughts of the deaths, speaking with the woman, girl really, from the far North West, and the mystery of the Gods of this land had become pushed aside by more pressing work.
It had been a full seven ten-days when death again stuck the tribe. On a chilly evening, a mere three days from the shortest day of the seasons, Duruth called an assembly of the entire tribe before him in the courtyard. Great fires were lit, not only against the cold, but also to light the area as the moon was a mere waxing crescent and not providing enough light. Nor'Gar again translated in hushed tones for his group, though many of the group had picked up a little of the local language, themselves.
“A man, known to many as Daker, was collecting firewood and has been found dead near the woods,” Nor'Gar continued to translate, “A close examination has revealed a bump to the back of his head, but his skull wasn't cracked and it did not seem enough to have killed him.”
Perhaps he just fell and hit his head, then died from the cold, Ember thought? With all of the ice and snow on the ground, it had to be possible. Nor'Gar continued his exact translation of Duruth’s words.
“I cannot rule out the chance that this was the anger of the Gods! I can only think of one way we may have angered them so, but I am not sure yet. That is all,” Nor'Gar translated. Duruth turned and walked back into the large hut with some of the Elders. Around Ember, people started muttering and many were in shock. A name kept being mentioned, Brigdha, the name of the young woman from the far north west who had lost her husband to the sickness.
People said she had cheated death, and many now supposed she had brought the wrath of the Gods upon the tribe. Luckily for her, she was not at the gathering. To allow her to stay, she had been made to work long periods and afforded only menial accommodations in the widow's hut, a place where old women and men without family or spouse could live. As Ember and Kis’tra returned to the trader's huts, they passed the Widows Hut where yelling could be heard. Ember couldn't make out much of the language, but she clearly heard the words for “killer”, “God”, and the name Brigdha. Ember was becoming worried for the fate of poor Brigdha. The wife of the man who had died the day before Ember's group started trading, many ten-days before, had been from another tribe and had no place to go after his death. Instead of living in an empty hut, she had moved into the Widows Hut, which would provide the support she needed. Unfortunately, Brigdha also lived in this hut. If she started to feel that Brigdha had brought the wrath of the Gods upon her and her husband, it might explain why Brigdha was apparently being yelled at. Ember had thought to meet Brigdha, but in the last few ten-days she had not run into her. Perhaps she should speak with her. Perhaps she might help. With these troubling thoughts, Ember returned to the group huts to tend to the ever growing E'lyse. It wouldn't be long now.
Two mornings later, Ember was awakened by loud screaming! She jumped out of bed pulling her obsidian dagger free and standing in a crouch ready to fight an unseen enemy! Ember immediately realized two things: firstly, E'lyse had yelled and might perhaps be starting labor. Secondly, she wore only her breechcloth undergarment and everyone was staring at her.
“Too-much, has-happened, to-you,” said E'lyse as she sat with a stunned look on her face, in between pains. That was not what she needed to have happen before she went into labor. Ember carefully slipped into her skirt and shirt, and kicked her deer hide bed covers out of the way. When she moved to E'lyse's side, it became evident that labor had set in. The mat right beneath E'lyse's bed was wet as her water had broken. It wouldn't be long now. Some of the others from the group came to the hut now carrying water to heat by the hearth as well as soft leather and dry grass. The entire morning, E'lyse laid moaning and sweating heavily. Gar'ath constantly looked over E'lyse, handing her water to drink from a clay cup and a clay dish with some soft food to eat. Gar'ath paced the hut for a long time stopping only to provide anything E'lyse needed. He was more of a wreck than she. E'lyse understood why. She was resigned to what was going to happen. Nothing would prevent the result, good or bad. She was going to have at least one baby or die trying, and what ever happened, happened. Gar'ath, on the other hand, being a man, felt the need to somehow influence events. He couldn't just allow nature to take its course, but he had to. E'lyse felt sympathy for Gar'ath's feelings of helplessness. Her sympathy ended upon the next wave of pain.
Later in the day, E'lyse's painful cramp-like pains became more regular and with growing frequency. The time had come, and she knew it. Several of the others tried to convince Gar'ath to either leave the hut or at least remain out of arm's reach of E'lyse, but he would not listen to their suggestions, remaining beside his beloved E'lyse. With her head in his lap, he s
troked her long blonde hair as she pushed and pushed, tears rolling from her eyes. Any thought of speaking in the language Ember understood was gone as she rambled on in her native tongue. Ember understood some of the language now, and what she said sounded less than pleasant. With a crazed look in her eyes, E'lyse pushed again and again forcing the baby forth bit by bit. This was a dangerous fact of life. A woman, the child, or both could be killed during child birth. A woman having her first birth was in the worst danger, such as E'lyse. If she and the baby lived through child birth and the first ten-day, both were probably going to be fine. One could not be too careful until the first full harvest had passed for a baby was a fragile being indeed. If she successfully bore a child, any babies she might later have would probably come more easily and with less danger. Much as men faced life and death when they hunted in the wilds or defended their village, so too did women; in fact, one chance for each person alive in the world.
After a painful but relatively short birthing made calmer by Ember's clam and soothing songs, E'lyse lay with her newborn baby boy, Vander, happily feeding on his first meal. Gar'ath had suggested several other names, but E'lyse reminded him who had gone through the pains of birthing the child. She scolded him, speaking in her native tongue.
“It felt good for you Gar!” she said, perhaps half jokingly.
“You didn't seem too hurt by the occasion, E'lyse,” Gar'ath replied, with a smile. Looking at the blood and gore being cleaned from the floor by the women he quickly conceded. E'lyse and little Vander lay together that night, nearly inseparable. When E'lyse finally passed out, Ember stayed with the mother and baby keeping them comfy while the baby fed again and until E'lyse next awoke. Ember decided not to point out the vicious fingernail marks in Gar'ath's legs. She had told him to stay out of arm's reach of E'lyse, but he didn't seem to notice.