by Jean M. Auel
Deegie studied the colors. “I think if we take this one,” she said, picking up a piece that was a rather bright earth red, “and add a little yellow to it, to bring out the red more, it might be a color you would like.”
She put the small lump of red ochre in the stone mortar and showed Ayla how to grind it very fine, then had her grind up the yellow color in a separate bowl. In a third bowl, Deegie mixed the two colors until she was satisfied with the shade. Then she added the hot fat, which changed the color, and brightened it to a shade that made Ayla smile.
“Yes. That is red. That is nice red,” she said.
Next Deegie picked up a long deer rib, which had been split lengthwise so that the porous inner bone was exposed at the convex end. Using the rib burnisher with the spongy side down, she picked up a dab of the cooled red fat, and rubbed the mixture into the prepared bison skin, pressing hard as she held the hide in her hand. As she worked the mineral coloring into the pores of the material, the leather acquired a smooth sheen. On leather with grain, the burnishing tool and coloring agents would have given it a hard shiny finish.
After watching awhile, Ayla picked up another rib bone and copied Deegie’s technique. Deegie watched her, offered a few corrections. When a corner of the hide was finished, she stopped Ayla for a moment.
“Look,” she said, sprinkling a few drops of water on the hide as she held up the corner. “It runs off, see?” The water beaded up and ran down, leaving no mark on the impervious finish.
* * *
“Have you decided what you are going to do with your red piece of leather, yet?” Nezzie asked.
“No,” Ayla said. She had unfolded the full bison hide to show Rydag and to admire it herself again. It was hers, because she had dressed and treated the hide, and she had never owned so much of anything that was red, and the leather had turned out to be remarkably red. “Red was sacred to Clan. I would give to Creb … if I could.”
“It is the brightest red I think I have ever seen. You would certainly see someone coming for a long way wearing that.”
“It is soft, too,” Rydag signed. He often came to the Mammoth Hearth to visit with her, and she welcomed him.
“Deegie showed me how to make soft with brain, first,” Ayla said, smiling at her friend. “I use fat before. Hard to do, and stains, sometimes. Better using brain of bison.” She paused with a thoughtful expression, then asked, “Will work for every animal, Deegie?” Then, when Deegie nodded, “How much brain should use? How much for reindeer? How much for rabbit?”
“Mut, the Great Mother, in her infinite wisdom,” Ranec replied instead, with the hint of a grin, “always gives just enough brains to each animal to preserve its hide.”
Rydag’s soft guttural chuckle puzzled Ayla for a moment, then she smiled. “Some have enough brains, do not get caught?”
Ranec laughed, and Ayla joined him, pleased with herself for understanding the joke hidden in the meaning. She was becoming much more comfortable with the language.
Jondalar, just walking into the Mammoth Hearth and seeing Ayla and Ranec laughing together, felt his stomach churn into a knot. Mamut saw him close his eyes as though in pain. He glanced at Nezzie and shook his head.
Danug, who had been following behind the visiting flint worker, watched him stop, clutch a post, and drop his head. The feelings of Jondalar and Ranec for Ayla, and the problem that was developing because of them, was apparent to all, though most people did not acknowledge it. They didn’t want to interfere, hoping to give the three of them room to work it out for themselves. Danug wished he could do something to help, but he was at a loss. Ranec was a brother, since Nezzie had adopted him, but he liked Jondalar and felt empathy for his anguish. He, too, had strong, if undefined, feelings for the beautiful new member of the Lion Camp. Beyond the inexplicable flushes and physical sensations when he was near her, he felt an affinity with her. She seemed to be as confused about how to handle the situation as he often felt about the new changes and complications in his life.
Jondalar took a deep breath and straightened up, then continued into the area. Ayla’s eyes followed him as he walked over to Mamut and handed him something. She watched them exchange a few words, then Jondalar left, quickly, without saying a word to her. She had lost the thread of the conversation going on around her, and when Jondalar left, she hurried to Mamut, not hearing the question Ranec had asked her, or seeing the fleeting look of disappointment on his face. He made a joke, which she also did not hear, to cover his dismay. But Nezzie, who was sensitive to the subtle nuances of his deeper feelings, noticed the hurt in his eyes, and then saw him set his jaw and square his shoulders with resolution.
She wanted to advise him, to give him the benefit of her experience and the wisdom of her years, but she held her tongue. They must work out their own destinies, she thought.
Since the Mamutoi lived in close quarters for extended periods of time, they had to learn to tolerate each other. There was no real privacy in the earthlodge, except the privacy of each person’s thoughts, and they were very careful not to intrude into another’s private thoughts. They shied away from asking personal questions, or pressing uninvited offers of assistance and advice, or intervening in private squabbles unless they were asked, or if the squabbles got out of hand and became a problem for everyone. Instead, if they saw a troubling situation developing, they quietly made themselves available and waited with patience and forbearance until a friend was wanted to discuss worries, fears, and frustrations. They were not judgmental or highly critical, and they imposed few restrictions on personal behavior if it did not hurt or seriously disturb others. A solution to a problem was one that worked, and satisfied everyone involved. They were gentle with each other’s souls.
“Mamut …” Ayla began, then realized she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say. “Ah … I think now is good time to make medicine for arthritis.”
“I would not object,” the old man said, smiling. “I have not had as comfortable a winter in many years. If for no other reason, I am glad you are here, Ayla. Let me put away this knife I won from Jondalar, and I will put myself in your hands.”
“You win knife from Jondalar?”
“Crozie and I were wagering with the knucklebones. He was watching and looked interested, so I invited him to play. He said he would like to, but he had nothing to wager. I told him as long as he had his skill, he always had something, and said I’d bet against a special knife that I wanted to be made in a certain way. He lost. He should know better than to wager against One Who Serves.” Mamut chuckled. “Here’s the knife.”
Ayla nodded. His answer satisfied her curiosity, but she wished someone could tell her why Jondalar didn’t want to talk to her. The group of people who had been admiring Ayla’s red leather hide broke up and left the Mammoth Hearth, except for Rydag, who joined Ayla and Mamut. There was something comforting about watching her treat the old shaman. He settled himself on a corner of the bed platform.
“I will make hot poultice for you first,” she said, and began to mix ingredients in a wooden bowl.
Mamut and Rydag watched her measuring, mixing, heating water. “What do you use in the poultice?” Mamut asked.
“I do not know your words for plants.”
“Describe them to me. Maybe I can tell you. I know a few plants and some remedies; I’ve had to learn some.”
“One plant, grows higher than knee,” Ayla explained, thinking about the plant carefully. “Has big leaves, not bright green, like dust on them. Leaves grow together with stem first, then get big, then come to point at end. Under leaf, soft, like fur. Leaves good for many things, and roots, too, especially broken bones.”
“Comfrey! That must be comfrey. What else is in the poultice?” This is interesting, he thought.
“Other plant, smaller, does not reach knee. Leaves, like small spear point Wymez makes, dark shiny green, stay green in winter. Stem comes up from leaves, has little flowers, light color, small red spots inside. Good
for swellings, rash, too,” Ayla said.
Mamut was shaking his head. “Leaves stay green in winter, spotted flowers. I don’t think I know that one. Why not just call it spotted wintergreen.”
Ayla nodded. “Do you want to know other plants?” she asked.
“Yes, go ahead and describe another.”
“Big plant, bigger than Talut, almost tree. Grows on low ground, near rivers. Dark purple berries stay on plant even in winter. Young leaves good to eat, big old ones too strong, can make sick. Dried root in poultice is good for swelling, red swelling, too, and for pain. I put dried berries in tea I make for your arthritis. Do you know name?”
“No, I don’t think so, but as long as you know the plant, I’m satisfied,” Mamut said. “Your remedies for my arthritis have helped, you are good with medicine for elders.”
“Creb was old. He was lame and had pain from arthritis. I learn from Iza how to help. Then I help others in clan.” Ayla paused and looked up from her mixing. “I think Crozie suffer pains of age, too. I want to help. You think she object, Mamut?”
“She doesn’t like to admit to the failings of age. She was a proud beauty in her younger years, but I think you are right. You could ask her, especially if you can think of a way that wouldn’t bruise her pride. That’s all she has left now.”
Ayla nodded. When the preparation was ready, Mamut removed his clothing. “When you are resting, with poultice,” she said, “I have root powder of other plant I want to put on hot coals for you to smell. Will make you sweat, and is good for pain. Then, before you sleep tonight, I have new wash for joints. Apple juice and hot root …”
“You mean horseradish? The root Nezzie uses, with food.”
“I think, yes, with apple juice and Talut’s bouza. Will make skin warm, and inside skin warm, too.”
Mamut laughed. “How did you ever get Talut to let you put his bouza outside on the skin, and not inside?”
Ayla smiled. “He likes ‘magic morning-after medicine.’ I say I will always make for him,” she said while she applied a thick, gummy, hot healing plaster to the old man’s aching joints. He lay back comfortably, and closed his eyes.
“This arm look good,” Ayla commented, working on the arm that had been broken. “I think was bad break.”
“It was a bad break,” Mamut said, opening his eyes again. He glanced at Rydag, who was quietly taking everything in. Mamut had not spoken of his experience to anyone but Ayla. He paused, then nodded sharply with decision. “It’s time you knew, Rydag. When I was a young man on a Journey, I fell down a cliff and broke my arm. I was dazed, and finally wandered into a Camp of flatheads, people of the Clan. I lived with them for a while.”
“That is why you quick to learn signs!” Rydag smiled. “I thought you very smart.”
“I am very smart, young man,” Mamut said, grinning back, “but I also remembered some of them, once Ayla reminded me.”
Rydag’s smile widened. Except for Nezzie, and the rest of his Lion Hearth family, he loved these two people more than anyone in the world, and he had never been so happy since Ayla came. For the first time in his life, he could talk, he could make people understand him, he could even make someone smile. He watched Ayla working on Mamut, and even he could recognize her thoroughness and knowledge. When Mamut looked in his direction, he signaled, “Ayla is good Healer.”
“The medicine women of the Clan are very skilled; she learned from them. No one could have done a better job on my arm. The skin was scraped, with dirt ground in, and it was torn open with the broken bone poking through. It looked like a piece of meat. The woman, Uba, cleaned it and set it right, and it did not even swell up with pus and fever. I had full use when it healed, and only in these later years have I felt a little ache now and then. Ayla learned from the granddaughter of the woman who fixed my arm. I was told she was considered the best,” Mamut announced, watching Rydag’s reaction. The boy looked at both of them quizzically, wondering how they could know the same people.
“Yes. And Iza was best, like her mother and her grandmother,” Ayla said, finishing up. She hadn’t been paying attention to the silent communication between the boy and the old man. “She knew all her mother knew, had mother’s memories, and grandmother’s memories.”
Ayla moved some stones from the fireplace closer to Mamut’s bed, scooped up a few live coals with two sticks and put them on the stones, then sprinkled powdered honeybloom root on the coals. She went to get covers for Mamut to keep the heat in, but while she was tucking them around him, he got up on one elbow and looked at her thoughtfully.
“The people of the Clan are different in a way that most people don’t realize. It’s not that they don’t talk, or that the way they talk is different. It’s that the way they think is a little different. If Uba, the woman who took care of me, was the grandmother of your Iza, and she learned from her mother’s and grandmother’s memories, how did you learn, Ayla? You don’t have Clan memories.” Mamut noticed an embarrassed flush, and a quick little gasp of surprise before Ayla looked down. “Or do you?”
Ayla looked up at him again, then down. “No. I do not have Clan memories,” she said.
“But …?”
Ayla looked back at him. “What do you mean, ‘but’?” she said. Her expression was wary, almost frightened. She looked down again.
“You do not have Clan memories, but … you have something, don’t you? Something of the Clan?”
Ayla kept her head bowed. How could he know? She had never told anyone, not even Jondalar. She hardly even admitted it to herself, but she had never been quite the same afterward. There were those times, that came on her …
“Does it have something to do with your skill as a medicine woman?” Mamut asked.
She looked up and shook her head. “No,” she said, her eyes pleading for him to believe her. “Iza teach me, I was very young, I think I was not yet age of Rugie when she begin. Iza knew I did not have memories, but she make me remember, make me tell her again and again until I do not forget. She is very patient. Some people tell her, is foolish to teach me. I cannot remember … I am too stupid. She tell them no, I am just different. I do not want to be different. I make myself remember. I say to myself, over and over, even when Iza is not teaching me. I learn to remember, my way. Then I make myself learn fast so they won’t think I am so stupid.”
Rydag’s eyes were opened big and round. More than anyone, he understood exactly how she had felt, but he didn’t know anyone had ever felt the same way, especially someone like Ayla.
Mamut looked at her with amazement. “So you memorized Iza’s Clan ‘memories.’ That’s quite an accomplishment. They go back generation after generation, don’t they?”
Rydag was listening closely now, sensing something very important to him.
“Yes,” Ayla said, “but I did not learn all her memories. Iza could not teach me all she knew. She told me she did not even know how much she knew, but she teach me how to learn. How to test, how to try carefully. Then, when I am older, she said I was her daughter, medicine woman of her line. I ask, how can I claim her line? I am not her true daughter. I am not even Clan, I do not have memories. Then she tell me I have something else, as good as memories, maybe better. Iza thought I was born to line of medicine women of the Others, best line, like her line was best. That is why I am medicine woman of her line. She said someday I would be best.”
“Do you know what she meant? Do you know what you have?” Mamut asked.
“Yes, I think so. When someone not well, I see what is wrong. I see look of eyes, color of face, smell of breath. I think about it, sometimes know just looking, other times, know what to ask. Then make medicine to help. Not always same medicine. Sometimes new medicine, like bouza in arthritis wash.”
“Your Iza may have been right. The best Healers have that gift,” the Mamut said, then a thought occurred to him, and he continued, “I have noticed one difference between you and the Healers I know, Ayla. You use plant remedies and other trea
tments to heal, Mamutoi Healers call upon the assistance of the spirits as well.”
“I do not know world of spirits. In Clan only mog-urs know. When Iza want help of spirits, she ask Creb.”
The Mamut stared hard into the eyes of the young woman. Ayla, would you like to have the help of the spirit world?”
“Yes, but I have no mog-ur to ask.”
“You don’t have to ask anyone. You can be your own mog-ur.”
“Me? A mog-ur? But I am a woman. A woman of the Clan cannot be a mog-ur,” Ayla said, stunned at the suggestion.
“But you are not a woman of the Clan. You are Ayla of the Mamutoi. You are a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth. The best Mamutoi Healers know the ways of the spirits. You are a good Healer, Ayla, but how can you be the best if you cannot ask the help of the spirit world?”
Ayla felt a great knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She was a medicine woman, a good medicine woman, and Iza said someday she would be the best. Now Mamut said she could not be the best without the help of the spirits, and he must be right. Iza always asked Creb to help, didn’t she?
“But I do not know world of spirits, Mamut,” Ayla said, feeling desperate, almost panicky.
Mamut leaned close to her, sensing the moment was right, and drawing from some inner source a power to compel. “Yes, you do,” he said, his tone commanding, “don’t you, Ayla?”
Her eyes flew open in fear. “I do not want to know spirit world!” she cried.
“You only fear that world because you don’t understand it. I can help you to understand it. I can help you to use it. You were born to the Hearth of the Mammoth, born to the mysteries of the Mother, no matter where you were born or where you go. You cannot help yourself, you are drawn to it, and it seeks you. You cannot escape it, but with training and understanding, you can control it. You can make the mysteries work for you. Ayla, you cannot fight your destiny, and it is your destiny to Serve the Mother.”
“I am medicine woman! That is my destiny.”
“Yes, that is your destiny, to be a medicine woman, but that is Serving the Mother, and someday, you may be called to serve in another way. You need to be prepared. Ayla, you want to be the best medicine woman, don’t you? Even you know that some sickness cannot be healed by medicines and treatments alone. How do you cure someone who no longer wants to live? What medicine gives someone the will to recover from a serious accident? When someone dies, what treatment do you give the ones left behind?”