by Jean M. Auel
“I’ve already promised that,” Laduni said. “Jondalar has a Future Claim on me, and that’s what he asked for—not that it’s much of a claim. We’d give them food and supplies anyway.” There was a refrain of agreement from the gathering.
Jondalar knew that the Losadunai would have given them food, just as Ayla and he would have given the Cave a firestone, but he didn’t want them to feel sorry later about giving up food supplies that could leave them stretched thin if spring and the new growing season came late. He wanted them to feel they were getting the best of a good bargain, and he wanted something else. He stood up then.
“We have given Losaduna a firestone for everyone’s use,” he said, “but there is more to my claim than it seems. We need more than food and supplies for ourselves. We don’t travel alone. Our companions are two horses and a wolf, and we need help to get them across the ice. We will need food for ourselves, and for them, but even more important, we will need water. If it were just Ayla and me, we could wear a waterbag full of snow or ice under our tunics next to our skin to melt enough water for us, and maybe for Wolf, but horses drink a lot of water. We can’t melt enough for them that way. I will tell you the truth; we need to find a way to carry or melt enough water to get us all across the glacier.”
There was a chorus of voices full of suggestions and ideas, but Laduni quieted them. “Let’s think about it and meet tomorrow with suggestions. Tonight is Festival.”
Jondalar and Ayla had already brought delicious excitement and mystery to enliven the usually quiet winter months of the Cave, and to give them stories to tell at Summer Meetings. Now there was the gift of the firestone and, as a bonus, the challenge of solving a unique problem, a fascinating practical and intellectual puzzle that would give them all a chance to stretch their mental muscles. The travelers would have willing and eager assistance.
Madenia had come to the Ceremonial Hearth to see the firestone demonstration, and Jondalar could hardly help noticing that she had been watching him closely. He had smiled at her several times, to which she had responded by blushing and looking away. He walked over to her as the gathering was breaking up and leaving the Ceremonial Hearth.
“Hello, Madenia,” he said. “What did you think of the firestone?”
He felt the attraction he often had for shy young women before their First Rites, who didn’t know what to expect and were a little afraid, especially those he had been called upon to introduce to the Mother’s Gift of Pleasures. He had always enjoyed showing them Her Gift during their First Rites, and he had a special feeling for it, which was why he was called upon so often. Madenia’s fear was well grounded, not the amorphous worries of most young women, and he would have considered it an even greater challenge to bring her around to knowing the joy rather than the pain.
Jondalar looked at her with his amazingly vivid blue eyes, and he wished they were staying long enough to participate in the Losadunai summer rituals. He genuinely wanted to help her to overcome her fears, and was truly attracted to her, which brought out the full power of his charm, his sheer male magnetism. The handsome and sensitive man smiled at her then and left her nearly breathless.
Madenia had never experienced a feeling like it before. Her whole being felt warm, almost on fire, and she had an overwhelming urge to touch him, and to have him touch her, but the young woman had no idea what to do with such feelings. She tried to smile; then, embarrassed, she opened her eyes wide and gasped at her audacity. She backed away and almost ran to her dwelling space. Her mother saw her leaving and followed after her. Jondalar had seen Madenia’s reaction before. It was not unusual for shy young women to respond to him that way, and it only made her more endearing.
“What did you do to that poor child, Jondalar?”
He looked at the woman who had spoken, and turned his smile on her.
“Or need I ask? I remember a time when that look very nearly overpowered me. But your brother had his charm, too.”
“And left you blessed,” Jondalar said. “You are looking well, Filonia. Happy.”
“Yes, Thonolan did leave a piece of his spirit with me, and I am happy. You seem happy, too. Where did you meet this Ayla?”
“It’s a long story, but she saved my life. It was too late for Thonolan.”
“I heard a cave lion got him. I’m sorry.”
Jondalar nodded, and closed his eyes with the inevitable frown of pain.
“Mother?” a girl said. It was Thonolia, holding hands with Solandia’s eldest daughter. “Can I eat at ’Salia’s hearth and play with the wolf? He likes children, you know.”
Filonia looked at Jondalar with an apprehensive frown.
“Wolf won’t hurt her. He does like children. Ask Solandia. She uses him to entertain her baby,” Jondalar said. “Wolf was raised with children and Ayla has trained him, and you’re right. She is a remarkable woman, particularly with animals.”
“I guess it’s all right, Thonolia. I don’t think this man would let you do anything that might harm you. He is the brother of the man you’re named after.”
There was a loud commotion. They looked to see what the trouble was, as the girls ran off together.
“When is someone going to do something about that … that Charoli? How long does a mother have to wait?” Verdegia complained to Laduni. “Maybe we need to call a Council of Mothers, if the men can’t handle it. I’m sure they would understand the feelings in a mother’s heart, and pass judgment fast enough.”
Losaduna had joined Laduni, to lend him support. Calling a Council of Mothers was usually a last resort. It could have serious repercussions and was used only when no other way could be found to solve a problem. “Let’s not be hasty, Verdegia. The messenger we sent to talk to Tomasi should be back any time. Certainly you can wait a little longer. And Madenia is much better. Don’t you think so?”
“I’m not so sure. She ran away to our hearth and won’t tell me what’s wrong. She says it’s nothing, and tells me not to worry about it, but how can I help it?” Verdegia said.
“I could tell her what’s wrong,” Filonia said under her breath, “but I’m not sure Verdegia would understand. She’s right, though. Something does have to be done about Charoli. All the Caves are talking about him.”
“What can be done?” Ayla asked, joining the two.
“I don’t know,” Filonia said, smiling at the woman. Ayla had come to see her baby and had obviously enjoyed holding him. “But I think Laduni’s plan is a good one. He thinks all the Caves should work together to find and bring the young men back. He would like to see the members of that band separated from each other, and away from Charoli’s influence.”
“It does seem like a good idea,” Jondalar said.
“The problem is Charoli’s Cave, and whether Tomasi, who is related to Charoli’s mother, would be willing to go along with it,” Filonia said. “We’ll know better when the messenger gets back, but I can understand how Verdegia feels. If anything like that ever happened to Thonolia …” She shook her head, unable to go on.
“I think most people understand how Madenia and her mother feel,” Jondalar said. “People are mostly decent, but a bad one can make a lot of trouble for everyone else.”
Ayla was remembering Attaroa and thinking the same thing.
“Someone’s coming! Someone’s coming!” Larogi and several of his friends came running into the cave shouting the news, making Ayla wonder what they had been doing outside in the cold and dark. A few moments later they were followed in by a middle-aged man.
“Rendoli! You couldn’t have come at a better time,” Laduni said, his relief obvious. “Here, let me take your pack and get you something hot to drink. You made it back in time for a Mother Festival.”
“That’s the messenger Laduni sent to Tomasi,” Filonia said, surprised to see him.
“Well, what did he say?” Verdegia demanded.
“Verdegia,” Losaduna said. “Let the man rest and catch his breath. He just got here!”
“I’m sure they were good ones,” Laduni said. “I’m glad you were there. What did they think of my suggestion?”
“They have already taken it, Laduni. Each Cave is going to send out scouts to track them—some have already left. Once Charoli’s band is found, most of the hunters of each Cave will go after them and bring them back. No one wants to put up with them anymore. Tomasi wants to have them before the Summer Meeting.” The man turned to look at Verdegia. “And they would like you to be there to make a charge and a claim,” he said.
Verdegia was almost appeased, but still not happy about Madenia’s reluctance to participate in the ceremony that would officially make her a woman, and, with luck, able to bear children—her potential grandchildren.
“I’ll be glad to charge and claim,” Verdegia said, “and if she won’t agree to First Rites, you can be certain I won’t forget it.”
“I am hopeful that by next summer, she will change her mind. I do see progress since the cleansing ritual. She is out mingling with people more. I think Ayla helped,” Losaduna said.
After Rendoli went to his dwelling space, Losaduna caught Jondalar’s eye and nodded to him. The tall man excused himself and followed Losaduna into the Ceremonial Hearth. Ayla would have liked to follow them, but she sensed from their manner that they wanted to be alone.
“I wonder what they are going to do,” Ayla said.
“I would guess it’s some kind of personal ritual,” Filonia said, which made Ayla even more curious.
“Have you brought something you made?” Losaduna asked.
“I made a blade. I didn’t have time to haft it, but it is as perfect as I could make it,” Jondalar said, taking a small leather-wrapped package from inside his tunic. He opened it to reveal a small stone point with an unretouched edge that was sharp enough to shave with. One end was worked to a point. The other end had a tang that could be fitted into a knife handle.
Losaduna looked it over carefully. “This is excellent workmanship,” he commented. “I feel certain it will be acceptable.”
Jondalar breathed a sigh of relief, though he hadn’t realized he was so concerned.
“And something of hers?”
“That was harder. We have been traveling with only the bare essentials, for the most part, and she knows where she puts everything she has. She has a few things packed away, gifts from people, mostly, and I didn’t want to disturb them. Then I remembered that you said it didn’t matter how small it was, so long as it was very personal,” Jondalar said, picking up a tiny object that was also in the leather package, then went on to explain. “She wears an amulet, a small decorated pouch with objects from her childhood inside. It’s very important to her, and the only time she takes it off is when she’s swimming or bathing, and not always then. She left it behind when she went to the sacred hot springs, and I cut away one of the beads that decorate it.”
Losaduna smiled. “Good! That’s perfect! And very clever. I’ve seen that amulet, and it is very personal to her. Wrap them back up together and give me the package.”
Jondalar did as he was told, but Losaduna noticed a questioning look when he handed it to him.
“I cannot tell you where I will put it, but She will know. Now, there are some things I must explain to you, and some questions I must ask,” Losaduna said.
Jondalar nodded. “I will try to answer.”
“You want a child to be born to your hearth, to the woman, Ayla, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“You do understand that a child born to your hearth may not be of your spirit?”
“Yes.”
“How do you feel about that? Does it matter to you whose spirit is used?”
“I would like it to be of my spirit, but … my spirit may not be right. Maybe it isn’t strong enough or the Mother can’t use it, or maybe She doesn’t want to. No one is ever sure whose spirit it is, anyway, but if a child was born to Ayla, and born to my hearth, that would be enough. I think I would almost feel like a mother myself,” Jondalar said, and his conviction was obvious.
Losaduna nodded. “Good. Tonight we honor the Mother, so this is a very propitious time. You know that those women who honor Her most are the ones who are most often blessed. Ayla is a beautiful woman, and she will have no trouble finding a man or men to share Pleasures with.”
When the One Who Served the Mother saw the tall man’s frown, he realized that Jondalar was one of those who found it difficult to see the woman he chose choose someone else, even though it was only for ceremony. “You must encourage her, Jondalar. It honors the Mother and is most important if you are sincere in wanting Ayla to have a child born to your hearth. I have seen it work before. Many women become pregnant almost immediately. The Mother may be so pleased with you, She might even use your spirit, especially if you also honor Her well.”
Jondalar closed his eyes and nodded, but Losaduna saw his jaw clench and grind. It was not going to be easy for the man.
“She has never taken part in a Festival to Honor the Mother. What if she … doesn’t want anyone else?” Jondalar asked. “Should I refuse her?”
“You must encourage her to share with others, but the choice is, of course, hers. You must never refuse any woman, if you can help it, at Her Festival, but especially not the one you have chosen to be your mate. I wouldn’t worry about it, Jondalar. Most women get into the spirit of it and have no trouble enjoying the Mother Festival,” Losaduna said. “But it is strange that Ayla wasn’t raised to know the Mother. I didn’t know there were any people who don’t acknowledge Her.”
“The people who raised her were … unusual in many ways,” Jondalar said.
“I’m sure that’s true,” Losaduna said. “Now, let’s go ask the Mother.”
Ask the Mother. Ask the Mother. The phrase went through Jondalar’s thoughts as they walked toward the back of the ceremonial space. He suddenly remembered being told that he was favored by the Mother, so favored that no woman could refuse him, not even Doni Herself; so favored that if he ever asked the Mother for anything, She would grant his request. He had also been warned to be wary of such favor; he might get what he asked for. At that moment, he fervently hoped it was true.
They stopped at the niche where the lamp still burned. “Pick the dunai up and hold her in your hands,” the One Who Served the Mother instructed.
Jondalar reached into the niche and gently picked up the Mother figure. It was one of the most beautifully made carvings he had ever seen. Her body was perfectly shaped. The figure in his hand looked as if the sculptor had carved it from a living model of a well-proportioned woman who was quite substantial in size. He had seen naked women often enough, in the normal course of living in close quarters, to know how one looked. The arms, resting on top of the ample breasts of the figure, were only suggested, but even so, fingers were defined, as well as the bracelets on her forearms. Her two legs came together into a kind of peg that went into the ground.
The head was most surprising. Most of the donii he had seen had hardly more than a knob for the head, sometimes with a face defined by the hairline but no features. This one had an elaborate hairstyle of rows of tight knobby curls that went all the way around the head and face. Except for the difference in shape, there was no difference between the back and the fron
t of the head.
When he looked closely, he was surprised to see that it had been carved out of limestone. Ivory or bone or wood were much easier to work, and the figure was so perfectly detailed and beautifully made that it was hard to believe someone had made her out of stone. Many flint tools must have been dulled to make this, he thought.
The One Who Served the Mother had been chanting, Jondalar realized. He had been so involved in studying the donii that he hadn’t noticed it at first, but he had learned enough Losadunai that when he listened carefully, he understood some of the names of the Mother, and he knew that Losaduna had started the ritual. He waited, hoping his appreciation of the material aesthetic qualities of the carving would not distract from the greater spiritual essence of the ceremony. Although the donii was a symbol for the Mother and, it was thought, offered a resting place for one of Her many spirit forms, he knew the carved figure was not the Great Earth Mother.
“Now, think about it clearly, and in your own words, from your heart, ask the Mother for what you want,” Losaduna said. “Holding the dunai will help you to concentrate all your thoughts and feelings into your request. Don’t hesitate to say anything that comes to you. Remember, what you are asking for is pleasing to the Mother of All.”
Jondalar closed his eyes to think about it, to help himself concentrate. “O Doni, Great Earth Mother,” he began. “There have been times in my life when I thought … some things I did may have displeased You. I did not mean to displease You, but … things happened. There was a time when I thought I would never find a woman I could really love, and I wondered if it was because You were angry about … those things.”
Something very bad must have happened in this man’s life. He is such a good man, and he seems so confident; it is hard to believe that he could suffer from so much shame and worry, Losaduna thought.
“Then, after traveling beyond the end of Your river, and losing … my brother, whom I loved more than anyone, You brought Ayla into my life, and finally I knew what it meant to fall in love. I am grateful for Ayla. If there was no one else in my life, no family, no friends, I would be content as long as Ayla was there. But, if it would please You, Great Mother, I would like … I would wish for … one thing more. I would ask for … a child. A child, born to Ayla, born to my hearth, and, if it is possible, born of my spirit, or born of my own essence as Ayla believes. If it is not possible, if my spirit is not … enough, then let Ayla have the baby she wants, and let it be born to my hearth, so it can be mine in my heart.”