The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  Never in her life had Iza done anything contrary to Clan customs or Brun’s wishes. The very idea was appalling. Even the secret contraceptive medicine had the sanction of past generations of medicine women, it was part of her heritage. Keeping the secret was not disobedient—there was no tradition or custom prohibiting its use—she just refrained from mentioning it. Ayla’s plan was nothing short of rebellion, a rebellion Iza would never have dreamed of; she couldn’t approve.

  But she knew how much Ayla wanted the baby; her heart ached thinking how she had suffered through the long, difficult pregnancy and how only the fear of the baby’s death had given her the strength that saved her own life. Ayla’s right, Iza thought, looking at the newborn. He’s deformed, but he’s strong and healthy otherwise. Creb was deformed—now he’s Mog-ur. This is her firstborn son, too. If she had a mate, he might allow the baby to live. No, he wouldn’t, she thought again. She couldn’t lie to herself any more than she could lie to anyone else. But she could refrain from speaking.

  She thought about telling Creb or Brun, and she knew she should, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Iza could not approve of Ayla’s plan, but she could keep it to herself. It was the most willfully wrong thing she had ever done in her life.

  She put some hot stones in a bowl of water to make an infusion of ergot for Ayla. The young woman was sleeping with the baby in her arms when Iza brought her the medicine. She shook her gently.

  “Drink this, Ayla,” she said. “I wrapped the afterbirth and put it in that corner. You can rest tonight, but it should be buried tomorrow. Brun already knows, Ebra told him. He’d rather not have to examine the baby and make it an official order. He will expect you to take care of it when you hide the evidence of birth.” Iza was telling her daughter how long she had to make her plans.

  Ayla lay awake after Iza left, thinking about what to take with her. I’ll need my sleeping fur, rabbit skins for the baby, and bird down, and a couple of extra blankets for changes, too. Straps for myself, my sling, and knives. Oh, and food, I’d better bring some food, and a waterbag. If I wait until the sun is high before I go, I can get everything ready in the morning.

  The next morning, Iza cooked well in excess of the amount of food needed to feed four people for a morning meal. Creb had come back to his hearth late to sleep; he wanted to avoid any communication with Ayla. He didn’t know what to say to her. Her totem is just too strong, he thought. It was never completely overcome; that’s why she bled so much during her pregnancy. That’s what made the baby deformed. It’s too bad, she wanted him so much.

  “Iza, that’s enough food for a whole clan,” Creb remarked. “How can we eat so much?”

  “It’s for Ayla,” Iza said, and quickly put her head down.

  Iza should have had many children, the old man thought, she dotes so much on the ones she has. But Ayla does need to regain her strength. It’s going to take her a long time to get over this. I wonder if she’ll ever have a normal child?

  Ayla’s head reeled when she got up, and she felt a rush of warm blood. It hurt to walk even a few steps and bending over was an ordeal. She was weaker than she realized, and almost panicked. How am I going to climb up to the cave? But I have to. If I don’t, Iza will take my baby and get rid of him. What will I do if I lose my baby?

  I won’t lose him, she decided with firm determination, forcing the panic from her mind. I’ll get up there somehow, if I have to crawl the whole way.

  It was drizzling when Ayla left the cave. She packed some things in the bottom of her collecting basket and covered them with the smelly package of birth effluvium. The rest she hid under her outer fur wrap. The baby was held securely to her chest with a carrying cloak. The first wave of dizziness passed as she started to walk into the woods, but it left her nauseous. She turned off the path and worked her way deep into the forest before she stopped. It was difficult to dig a hole with her digging stick, she was so weak. She buried the package deep, as Iza had told her, and made the proper symbols. Then she looked at her son sleeping soundly, warm and comfortably secure. No one will put you in a hole like that, she said to herself. Then she began to climb the steep foothills, unaware that someone was watching her.

  Shortly after Ayla left the cave, Uba slipped out after her. The winter of training after her mother’s illness had made the girl much more conscious of the danger Ayla was in. She knew how weak the young woman was, and was afraid she might faint and become easy prey for a roaming carnivore drawn by the smell of blood on her. Uba almost ran back to the cave to tell Iza, but she didn’t want Ayla to go alone, so she started to follow her. The girl lost sight of her after she turned off the path, but saw her again climbing up an open stretch of slope.

  Ayla leaned heavily on her digging stick as she climbed, using it for a walking staff. She stopped often, swallowing hard to keep down her nausea and fighting not to give in to the dizziness that threatened to become darkness. She felt blood running down her legs but didn’t stop to replace her absorbent strap. She remembered a time when she could run up the steep slope without even getting winded. Now, she couldn’t believe how far it was to the high meadow. The distance between familiar landmarks was impossibly long. Ayla pushed herself until she was ready to collapse, then struggled to stay conscious until she was rested enough to go on.

  By late afternoon, when the baby started crying, she heard him only through a dim fog. She didn’t stop for him, she just forced herself to climb. Her mind clung to one thought—I’ve got to reach the meadow, I’ve got to get to the cave. She wasn’t even sure why anymore.

  Uba stayed far behind her, not wanting to let Ayla see her. She didn’t know Ayla could hardly see beyond her next step. The young mother’s head was swimming in a red haze when she finally reached the mountain pasture. A little more, she told herself, just a little more. She plodded across the field and hardly had the strength to push the branches aside as she stumbled into the small cave that had been her sanctuary so many times before. She collapsed on the deerskin fur, uncaring that her fur wrap was wet, and didn’t remember putting her crying son to her breast before she finally allowed herself to succumb to her exhaustion.

  It was fortunate that Uba reached the meadow just as Ayla disappeared into the cave, or she would have thought the woman had vanished into thin air. The thick, old hazelnut bushes with their confusion of branches completely camouflaged the hole in the mountain wall even without summer foliage. Uba ran back to the cave. She had been gone longer than she expected; it had taken Ayla much longer than the girl thought to reach the small cave. She was afraid Iza would be worried and scold her. But Iza ignored Uba’s late return. She had seen her daughter slip out after Ayla and guessed her intention, but she didn’t want to know for sure.

  20

  “Shouldn’t she be back, Iza?” Creb asked. He had been anxiously pacing in and out of the cave all afternoon. Iza nodded nervously, not looking up from the cold, cooked venison haunch she was cutting into chunks.

  “Ouch!” she cried suddenly as the sharp blade she was using opened a gash in her finger. Creb looked up, surprised as much by the fact that she cut herself as by her spontaneous outburst. Iza was so skilled with the stone knife, he couldn’t remember the last time she did it. Poor Iza, Creb thought. I’ve been so worried myself, I forgot how she must feel, he berated himself. No wonder she’s nervous, she’s worried, too.

  “I talked to Brun a while ago, Iza,” Creb motioned. “He’s reluctant to look for her yet. No one should know where a woman disposes … where she is at a time like this. You know how unlucky it would be for a man to see her. But she’s so weak, she could be out there lying in the rain someplace. You could go look for her, Iza, you’re a medicine woman. She can’t have gone too far. Don’t worry about cooking, I can wait. Why don’t you go ahead, it’ll be dark soon.”

  “I can’t,” Iza gestured and put her cut finger back in her mouth.

  “What do you mean, you can’t?” Creb was puzzled.

  �
��I can’t find her.”

  “How do you know you can’t find her if you don’t look?” The old magician was thoroughly confused. Why doesn’t Iza want to look for her? Come to think of it, why hasn’t she been out looking long before this? I would have thought she’d be scouring the woods, turning over stones to find Ayla by now. She’s so nervous, something is wrong.

  “Iza, why don’t you want to look for Ayla?” he asked.

  “It wouldn’t help, I couldn’t find her.”

  “Why?” he pressed.

  The woman’s eyes were filled with fearful anxiety. “She’s hiding,” Iza confessed.

  “Hiding! What is she hiding from?”

  “Everyone. Brun, you, me, the whole clan,” she replied.

  Creb was completely at a loss, and Iza’s enigmatic answers only made it worse. “Iza, you’d better explain. Why is Ayla hiding from the clan, or me, or you? Especially you. She needs you now.”

  “She wants to keep the baby, Creb,” Iza gestured, then rushed on, begging him with her eyes to understand. “I told her it was the mother’s duty to dispose of a deformed baby, but she refused. You know how much she wanted it. She said she was going to take him and hide him until his naming day so Brun would have to accept him.” Creb stared hard at the woman, quickly grasping the full implications of Ayla’s willfulness.

  “Yes, Brun will be forced to accept her son, Iza, and then he’ll curse her for deliberate disobedience, this time forever. Don’t you know if a woman forces a man against his will, he loses face? Brun can’t afford that, the men wouldn’t respect him anymore. Even if he curses her he’ll lose face, and the Clan Gathering is this summer. Do you think he can face the other clans now? The whole clan will lose face because of Ayla,” the magician gestured angrily. “What ever made her think of such a thing?”

  “It was one of Aba’s stories, about the mother who put her deformed baby up in a tree,” Iza answered. The distraught woman was beside herself. Why hadn’t she thought about it more?

  “Old women’s tales!” Creb motioned with disgust. “Aba should know better than to fill a young woman’s head with such nonsense.”

  “It wasn’t only Aba, Creb. It was you, too.”

  “Me! When did I ever tell her such stories?”

  “You didn’t have to tell her any stories. You were born deformed, but you were allowed to live. Now you’re Mog-ur.”

  Iza’s statement jolted the lopsided, one-armed magician. He knew the series of fortuitous events that led to his acceptance. Only luck had preserved the highest holy man of the Clan. His mother’s mother once told him it was nothing short of a miracle. Was Ayla trying to make a miracle happen for her son because of him? It would never work. She’d never force Brun into accepting her son and live. It had to be his wish, his decision, entirely his.

  “And you, Iza. Didn’t you tell her it was wrong?”

  “I begged her not to go. I told her I’d get rid of the baby if she couldn’t. But she wouldn’t let me near him after that. Oh, Creb, she suffered so much to have him.”

  “So you let her go, hoping her plan would work. Why didn’t you tell me, or Brun?”

  Iza just shook her head. Creb is right, I should have told him. Now Ayla will die, too, not just her baby, she thought.

  “Where did she go, Iza?” Creb’s eye had turned to stone.

  “I don’t know. She said something about a small cave,” the woman replied with sinking heart. The magician turned abruptly and limped to the hearth of the leader.

  The baby’s cries finally woke Ayla from her exhausted sleep. It was dark and the little cave was damp and chilly without a fire. She went to the back to relieve herself and winced as the warm, ammoniacal fluid stung her raw, torn flesh. She fumbled in the dark through her collecting basket for a clean strap and a fresh wrap for the wet and soiled infant, drank some water; then wrapping her fur around them, she lay back down to nurse her son. The next time she woke up, the wall of the cave was dappled with sunlight streaming through the tangled hazelnut branches that hid the entrance. She ate her food cold while the baby suckled.

  The food and rest revived her, and she sat up holding her baby, musing dreamily. I’ll need to get some wood, she thought, and my food won’t last too long, I should get some more. Alfalfa should be sprouting; it’ll strengthen my blood, too. New clover and vetch shoots must be ready, and bulbs. The sap is up, the inner bark will be sweet now, especially maple. No, maple doesn’t grow this high, but there’s birch, and fir. Let’s see, new burdock and coltsfoot and young dandelion leaves, and fern, most of it will still be curled. I remembered my sling—there’s lots of ground squirrels around here, and beaver, and rabbits.

  Ayla daydreamed about the pleasures of the warming season, but when she stood up she felt a gush of blood and a wave of dizziness. Her legs were caked with dried blood that stained her foot coverings and her wraps, jolting her into a more realistic awareness of her desperate situation.

  When the dizziness passed, she decided to clean herself and then get some wood, but she didn’t know what to do with the baby. She was torn between taking him with her or letting him sleep where he was. Women of the Clan never left babies untended, they were always within sight of some woman, and Ayla hated the thought of leaving him alone. But she had to clean herself and get more water, and she could carry more wood without him.

  She peeked out through the bare-limbed bushes to make sure no one was near, then pushed the branches aside and left the cave. The ground was soggy; near the creek it was a slippery mire of mud. Patches of snow still lingered in shaded nooks. Shivering in the brisk wind that blew from the east pushing more rain clouds before it, Ayla stripped and stepped into the cold creek to rinse herself, then sponged her wraps. The clammy damp leather did little to warm her when she put them back on.

  She walked to the woods that surrounded the high pasture and tugged at some of the lower dried branches of a fir tree. A whirling vertigo overwhelmed her, her knees buckled, and she reached for a tree to steady herself. Her head was pounding; she swallowed hard to keep from retching as her weakness engulfed her. All thoughts of hunting or gathering food left her. The depleting pregnancy, the ravaging delivery, and the grueling climb all had taken their toll—she had little strength left.

  The baby was crying when she got back to the cave. It was cool and damp and he missed her warm closeness. She picked him up and held him, then remembered the waterbag she had left by the creek. She had to have water. She put her son down and dragged herself out of the cave again. It was starting to rain. When she returned, she sunk down, exhausted, and pulled the damp heavy fur over them. She was too tired to notice the sharp edges of fear nicking away at the corners of her mind as sleep overwhelmed her.

  “Didn’t I tell you she was insolent and willful?” Broud gestured self-righteously. “Did anyone believe me? No. They took her side, made excuses, let her have her way, even let her hunt. I don’t care how strong her totem is, women are not supposed to hunt. The Cave Lion didn’t lead her to it, it was just defiance. See what happens when you give a woman too much freedom? See what happens when you’re too lenient? Now she thinks she can force her deformed son into the clan. No one can make excuses for her this time. She deliberately disobeyed the customs of the Clan. It’s inexcusable.”

  At last Broud had been vindicated and he gloried in his chance to say “I told you so.” He rubbed it in with a vengeance that made the leader wince. Brun didn’t like losing face and the son of his mate didn’t make it any easier.

  “You’ve made your point, Broud,” he signaled. “There’s no need to keep on about it. I’ll take care of her when she comes back. No woman has ever forced me to do anything against my will and gotten away with it, and no woman will start now.

  “When we search again tomorrow morning,” Brun said, going on to the reason he called the meeting, “I think we should look at places we seldom go. Iza said Ayla knew of a small cave. Has anyone ever seen a small cave nearby? It can’t be to
o far, she was too weak to get very far. Let’s forget about the steppes or the forest and search where caves are likely to be. With this rain her trail has been washed away, but there might be a footprint left. Whatever it takes, I want her found.”

  Iza waited anxiously for Brun’s meeting to end. She had been trying to work up courage to speak to him and decided the time was now. When she saw the men leave, she walked to his hearth with bowed head and sat at his feet.

  “What do you want, Iza?” Brun asked after tapping her shoulder.

  “This unworthy woman would speak to the leader,” Iza began.

  “You may speak.”

  “This woman was wrong not to come to the leader when she learned what the young woman planned to do.” Iza forgot to use the formal form of address as her emotions overcame her: “But Brun, she wanted a baby so much. No one thought she would ever conceive life, least of all her. How could the Spirit of the Cave Lion be overcome? She was so happy about it. Even though she suffered, she never complained. She almost died giving birth, Brun. Only the thought that her baby would die gave her strength at the end. She just couldn’t bear to give him up, even if he was deformed. She was sure it was the only baby she would ever have. She was out of her head from the shock and the pain, she wasn’t thinking straight. I know I have no right to ask, Brun, but I beg you to let her live.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me before, Iza? If you thought begging for her life would do any good now, why didn’t you come to me then? Have I been so unkind to her? I was not blind to her suffering. A man can avert his eyes to avoid looking into another man’s hearth, but he cannot close his ears. There is not a person in this clan who does not know the pain Ayla suffered to give birth to her son. Do you think me so hardhearted, Iza? If you had come to me, told me how she felt, what she planned to do, don’t you think I would have considered allowing her baby to live? I could have overlooked her threat to run and hide as the ravings of a woman out of her head. I would have examined the child. Even without a mate, if the deformity is not too gross, I might have allowed it. But you gave me no opportunity. You assumed to know what I would do. That’s not like you, Iza.