by Jean M. Auel
Though hunting strengthened her body and occupied her mind while she was out, she still carried her load of grief and sorrow. To Uba, it seemed that the joy had left Creb’s hearth. She missed her mother, and both Creb and Ayla had an aura of perpetual sadness. Only Durc, with his unknowing baby ways, brought a hint of the happiness she had once taken for granted. He could even rouse Creb out of his lethargy on occasion.
Ayla had left early and Uba was away from the hearth looking for something in the back of the cave. Oga had just brought Durc back and Creb was keeping his eye on the boy. He was full and contented, but not very sleepy. He crawled toward the old man and pulled himself up on wobbly, unsure legs, clutching at Creb for support.
“So you’re going to start walking soon,” Creb motioned. “Before this winter is over, you’ll be running all over this cave, young man.”
Creb poked him in his little pot belly to emphasize his gestures. The corners of Durc’s mouth turned up and he made a sound Creb had heard from only one other person in the clan. He laughed. Creb poked him again and the boy doubled over in a babyish giggle, lost his balance, and sat down on his firm little rump. Creb helped him up again and looked at the child as he had never looked at him before.
Durc’s baby legs were bowed, but not nearly as much as other babies of the clan; and though they were chubby, Creb could see his bones were longer and thinner. I think Durc’s legs are going to be straight when he gets older, like Ayla’s, and he’s going to be tall, too. And his neck, it was so thin and scrawny when he was born, he couldn’t hold his head up; it’s just like Ayla’s neck. His head isn’t like hers, though, or is it? That high forehead, that’s Ayla’s. Creb turned Durc’s head to look at his profile. Yes, definitely her forehead, but the brows and the eyes, they’re Clan, and the back of his head, that’s more like Clan, too.
Ayla was right. He’s not deformed, he’s a mixture, a mixture of her and Clan. I wonder, is that the way it always is? Do the spirits mix? Maybe that’s what makes girls, not a weak male totem. Does life start with a mixing of male and female totem spirits? Creb shook his head, he didn’t know, but it set the old magician to thinking. He thought often of Durc that cold lonely winter. He had a feeling Durc was important, but just why eluded him.
27
“But Ayla, I’m not like you. I can’t hunt. Where will I go when it gets dark?” Uba implored. “Ayla, I’m afraid.”
The frightened face of the young woman made Ayla wish she could go with her. Uba was not quite eight years old and the thought of spending the days alone away from the security of the cave terrified her, but her totem’s spirit had battled for the first time and it was required. She had no choice.
“Do you remember that small cave where I hid when Durc was born? Go there, Uba. It will be safer than staying out in the open. I’ll come up to see you every evening and bring you some food. It’s only for a few days, Uba. Make sure you take a fur to sleep on and a coal to start a fire. There’s water nearby. It will be lonely, especially at night, but you’ll be all right. And just think, you’re a woman now. You’ll be mated soon and maybe have a baby of your own before long,” Ayla consoled.
“Who do you think Brun will choose for me?”
“Who do you want Brun to choose for you, Uba?”
“Vorn is the only unmated man, though I’m sure Borg will be one soon. Of course, he might decide to make me the second woman of one of the others. I think I’d really like Borg. We used to play we were mated, until the time he really tried to relieve his needs with me. It didn’t work very well, and now he’s shy and so close to being a man, he doesn’t like to play with girls anymore. But Ona is a woman, too, and she can’t mate with Vorn. Unless Brun decides to give her to a man who already has one mate, there’s no one else but Borg for her. I guess that means Vorn will be my mate.”
“Vorn has been a man for a while, he’s probably eager to mate by now,” Ayla said. She had come to the same conclusion herself. “Do you think you’d like Vorn for a mate?”
“He tried to act like he doesn’t notice me, but he looks at me sometimes. He might not be so bad.”
“Broud likes him, he’ll probably be second-in-command someday. You don’t need to worry about the status, but it would be good for your sons. I didn’t like Vorn much when he was younger, but I think you’re right. He’s not so bad. He’s even nice to Durc, when Broud isn’t around.”
“Everyone’s nice to Durc, except Broud,” Uba said. “Everyone loves him.”
“Well, he certainly makes himself at home at every hearth. He’s so used to being handed around to nurse, he even calls every woman mother,” Ayla motioned with a fleeting frown. A quick smile replaced her unhappy look. “Remember that time he walked into Grod’s hearth, just like he lived there?”
“I remember; I tried not to look, but I just couldn’t help it,” Uba recalled. “He walked right past Uka, just greeted her and called her mother and went straight to Grod and crawled up on his lap.”
“I know,” Ayla said. “I never saw Grod look so surprised in my life. Then he climbed down and went straight for Grod’s spears. I was sure Grod was going to get mad, but he just couldn’t resist that brazen child when he started to drag his biggest spear away. When Grod took it away from him, he said, ‘Durc hunt like Grod.’ ”
“I think Durc would have dragged that heavy spear right out of the cave if Grod had let him.”
“He takes the little spear Grod made for him to bed,” Ayla gestured, still smiling. “You know, Grod never says much. I was surprised when he came over that day. He barely greeted me, just went straight to Durc and put that spear in his hands, even showed him how to hold it. When he walked out, all he said was, ‘If the boy wants to hunt so much, he should have his own spear.’ ”
“It’s a shame Ovra never had any children. I think Grod would like it if the daughter of his mate had a baby,” Uba said. “Maybe that’s why Grod likes Durc, he’s not really attached to any man. Brun likes him, too, I can tell; and Zoug is already showing him how to use a sling. I don’t think he’s going to have any problem learning to hunt even though there isn’t a man at his hearth to train him. The way the men act, you’d think every man in the clan is his mother’s mate, except Broud.” She paused. “Maybe they are, Ayla. Dorv always said every man’s totem combined to defeat your Cave Lion.”
“I think you’d better go now, Uba,” Ayla said, changing the subject. “I’ll walk with you part of the way. It’s stopped raining, and I think the strawberries are ripe. There’s a big patch of them partway up the path. I’ll come up to see you later.”
Goov painted the symbol of Vorn’s totem over the symbol of Uba’s totem with yellow ochre paste, blurring her mark and showing his dominance.
“Do you accept this woman as your mate?” Creb gestured.
Vorn tapped Uba’s shoulder and she followed him into the cave. Then Creb and Goov performed the same ritual for Borg and Ona and they went to their new hearth to begin the period of isolation. The summer-dressed trees, still a shade lighter than they would be later, stirred in the light breeze as the congregation broke up. Ayla picked up Durc to carry him into the cave, but he squirmed to get down.
“All right, Durc,” she motioned. “You can walk, but come in and have some broth and mush.”
While she was preparing breakfast, Durc wandered out of the hearth and headed toward the new hearth now occupied by Uba and Vorn. Ayla ran after him and carried him back.
“Durc want see Uba,” the child gestured.
“You can’t, Durc. No one can visit her for a while. But if you’re good and eat your mush, I’ll take you hunting with me.”
“Durc be good. Why can’t see Uba?” the boy asked, mollified by the promise to go along with his mother. “Why Uba not come eat with us?”
“She doesn’t live here anymore, Durc. She’s mated to Vorn now,” Ayla explained.
Durc wasn’t the only one who noticed Uba’s absence. They all missed her. The hearth see
med empty with only Creb, Ayla, and the child, and the strain between the old man and the young woman was more noticeable. They had never found a way to overcome their mutual remorse over the hurt they had caused each other. Many times when Ayla saw the old magician lost in the depths of melancholy, she wanted to go to him, put her arms around his shaggy white head, and hug him as she had when she was a little girl. But she restrained herself, reluctant to force herself upon him.
Creb missed the affection, though he didn’t realize its absence added to his depression. And many times when Creb saw Ayla’s pain as she watched another woman nurse her son, he wanted to go to her. If Iza had been alive, she would have found a way to bring them back together, but without such a catalyst, they drifted farther apart, each longing to show their love for the other, and neither knowing how to bridge the gap that separated them. They were both ill at ease during the first morning meal without Uba.
“Do you want more, Creb?” Ayla asked.
“No. No. Don’t bother, I’ve had enough,” he motioned.
He watched her cleaning up while Durc dived into a second helping with both hands and a clamshell spoon. Though just a little more than two years old, he was essentially weaned. He still sought out Oga—and Ika now that she had a new baby again—to nurse for comfort and closeness, and because they let him get away with it. Usually, when a new baby was born, any older children still nursing were cut off, but Ika made an exception in Durc’s case. The child seemed to sense not to push his privilege too far. He never drained her, never deprived her new infant of milk, just cuddled up for a few moments as if to prove he had the right.
Oga was lenient toward him, too, and though Grev was technically past his nursing year, he took advantage of his mother’s indulgence. Both were often found together on her lap, each suckling a breast until their interest in each other overcame their desire for mothering, and they let go to tussle with each other. Durc was as tall as Grev, though not nearly as stocky; and though Grev usually won over Durc when they wrestled playfully, Durc easily outdistanced the older boy when they raced. The two were inseparable; they sought each other out at every opportunity.
“You’re going to take the boy with you?” Creb gestured after an uncomfortable silence.
“Yes,” she nodded, wiping the child’s hands and face. “I promised to take him hunting with me. I doubt that I’ll be able to hunt much with him along, but I need to gather some herbs, too, and it’s a nice day.”
Creb grunted.
“You should go out, too, Creb,” she added. “The sun would be good for you.”
“Yes, yes, I will, Ayla. Later.”
For a moment, she thought she ought to coax him out of the cave with the offer of a walk beside the stream as they used to do, but he already seemed turned inward. She left him sitting where he was, picked up Durc, and hurried out. Creb didn’t look up until he was sure she was gone. He reached for his staff, then decided it was too much effort to get up, and put it down again.
Ayla worried about him as she started out with Durc on her hip and her collecting basket strapped to her back. She sensed his mental power was diminishing. He was more absentminded than ever, and he repeated questions she had already answered. He hardly stirred himself to go out of the cave, even when the weather was warm and sunny. And when he sat for long hours in what he called meditation, he often fell asleep sitting up.
Ayla’s strides lengthened once she was out of sight of the cave. The freedom of movement and the beautiful summer day eased her concern into a more remote part of her mind. She let Durc walk when they came to a clearing and stopped to collect some plants. He watched her, then grabbed a handful of grass and purple-flowered alfalfa and pulled it out by the roots. He brought it to her clutched in his little fist.
“You’re a big help, Durc,” she motioned, taking it from him and putting it into the basket beside her.
“Durc get more,” he gestured, running off.
She sat back on her heels watching her son tugging at a larger handful. It gave suddenly, and he sat down hard. He screwed up his face to cry, more in surprise than in pain, but Ayla ran to him, picked him up, and tossed him into the air, catching him again in her arms. Durc giggled with delight. She put him down and pretended she was going to chase him.
“I’m going to get you,” Ayla motioned.
Durc ran away on his baby legs, laughing. She let him get ahead of her, then chased after him on hands and knees, grabbing him and pulling him over on top of her, both of them laughing at the game. She tickled him just to hear him laugh again.
Ayla never laughed with her son unless they were alone, and Durc learned early that no one else either appreciated or approved of his smiles and giggles. Though Durc made the gesture for mother to all the women in the clan, in his baby heart, he knew Ayla was special. He always felt happier with her than with anyone else, and he loved it when she took him with her alone, without the other women. And he loved the other game only he and his mother played.
“Ba-ba-na-nee-nee,” Durc sounded.
“Ba-ba-na-nee-nee,” Ayla mimicked the nonsense syllables.
“No-na-nee-ga-goo-la,” Durc voiced another set of sounds.
Ayla copied him again, then tickled him. She loved to hear him laugh. It always brought laughter to her own lips. Then she made a set of sounds, sounds she liked to hear him make more than any others. She didn’t know why, except it stirred in her a feeling of such tenderness it came close to bringing tears.
“Ma-ma-ma-ma,” she said.
“Ma-ma-ma-ma,” Durc repeated. Ayla wrapped her arms around her son and held him close. “Ma-ma,” Durc said again.
He wriggled to get free. The only time he liked to cuddle for long was when he went to sleep snuggled beside her. She wiped a tear away from the corner of her eye. Watering eyes were one peculiarity he did not share with her. Durc’s large brown eyes, deep set below heavy brow ridges, were Clan.
“Ma-ma,” Durc said. He often called her by the syllables when they were alone, especially after he was reminded. “You hunt now?” he gestured.
The last few times she had taken Durc with her, she spent some time showing him how to hold a sling. She was going to make one for him, but Zoug beat her to it. The old man didn’t go out anymore, but his pleasure in trying to train the boy also pleased Ayla. Though Durc was young, Ayla could see he would have her aptitude with the weapon, and he was as proud of his miniature sling as he was of his small spear.
He liked the attention he got as he strutted with a sling draped through the cord around his waist—all he wore in summer besides his amulet—and a spear in his hand. Grev had to have small weapons, too. The pair of them brought glimmers of amusement to the eyes of the clan, and comments about what fine little men they were. Their future role was already being defined. When Durc discovered that imperious bossiness to little girls was approved, and even benignly condoned toward grown women, he never hesitated to push to the limits allowed—except with his mother.
Durc knew his mother was different. Only she laughed with him, only she played the game of sounds with him, only she had the soft golden hair he loved to touch. He could never remember her nursing him, but he would sleep with no one else. He knew she was a woman because she answered to the same motion as the other women. But she was much taller than any man, and she hunted. He wasn’t exactly sure what hunting was, except men did it—and his mother. She fit into no category; she was woman and not woman, man and not man. She was unique. The name he had begun to call her, the name made with sounds, seemed to suit her best. She was Mama; and Mama, the golden-haired goddess he adored, did not nod approvingly when he attempted to boss her.
Ayla put Durc’s little sling in his hands, and holding hers over his, tried to show him how to use it. Zoug had done the same thing, and he was beginning to get the idea. Then she took her sling from her waist thong, found some pebbles, and hurled them at nearby objects. When she set small stones on larger boulders and proceeded to knock them
off again, Durc thought it was funny. He toddled over with more stones to see her do it again. After a while he lost interest, and she went back to gathering plants while Durc followed after her. They found some raspberries and stopped to eat them.
“You are a mess, my sticky son,” Ayla motioned, laughing at him with red juice on his face, hands, and round belly. She picked him up, tucked him under one arm, and carried him to a creek to wash him. Then she found a large leaf, folded it into a cone, and filled it with water for Durc and her to drink. Durc yawned and rubbed his eyes. She spread her carrying cloak out on the ground in the shade of a large oak, and lay down beside him until he fell asleep.
In the quiet of the summer afternoon, Ayla sat with her back against the tree watching butterflies flitting then coming to rest with folded-back wings and insects buzzing in perpetual motion, and listened to a twittering symphony of chirping birds. Her mind wandered back to the events of the morning. I hope Uba will be happy with Vorn, she thought. I hope he’s good to her. It’s so empty with her gone, even if she isn’t far away. It’s just not the same. She’ll be cooking for her mate now, and sleeping with him after the isolation. I hope she has a baby soon, that would make her happy.
But what about me? No one has ever come from that clan to ask about me. Maybe they just can’t find our cave. I don’t think they were all that interested, anyway. I’m glad. I don’t want to mate a man I don’t know. I don’t even want any of the ones I do know, and none of them want me. I’m too tall; even Droog barely reaches my chin. Iza used to wonder if I would ever stop growing. I’m beginning to wonder myself. Broud hates it. He can’t stand having a woman around taller than he is. But he hasn’t bothered me at all since we got back from the Clan Gathering. Why does it make me shudder every time he looks at me?
Brun’s getting old. Ebra’s been getting medicine for his sore muscles and stiff joints lately. He’s going to make Broud leader soon. I know it. And Goov is going to be mog-ur. He’s doing more of the ceremonies all the time. I don’t think Creb wants to be mog-ur anymore, not since that time I watched them. Why did I go into the cave that night? I don’t even remember how I got there. I wish I had never gone to the Clan Gathering. If I hadn’t gone, I might have kept Iza alive for a few more years. I miss her so much, and I never did find a mate. Durc did, though.