by Jean M. Auel
“Echozar, Son of Woman blessed of Doni, of the First Cave of the Lanzadonii, you have asked Joplaya, Daughter of Jerika mated to Dalanar, to be your mate. This is true?”
“It is true,” Echozar said in a voice so weak it could hardly be heard.
“Joplaya, Daughter of Jerika mated to Dalanar …”
The words were not the same, but the meaning was, and Ayla shook with sobs as she recalled a similar ceremony when she stood beside a dusky man who looked at her the way Echozar looked at Joplaya.
“Ayla, don’t cry, this is a happy occasion,” Jondalar said, holding her tenderly.
She could hardly speak; she knew how it felt to stand beside the wrong man. But there was no hope for Joplaya, not even dreams that someday the man she loved would flout custom for her. He didn’t even know she loved him, and she couldn’t speak of it. He was a cousin, a close-cousin, more sibling than cousin, an unmatable man—and he loved another. Ayla felt Joplaya’s pain as her own as she sobbed beside the man they both loved.
“I was thinking of the time I stood beside Ranec like that,” she finally said.
Jondalar remembered only too well. He felt a constriction in his chest, a pain in his throat, and he held her fiercely. “Hey, woman, you’re going to have me crying soon.”
He glanced at Jerika, who sat with stiff dignity while tears rolled down her face. “Why do women always cry at these things?” he said.
Jerika looked at Jondalar with an unfathomable expression, then at Ayla sobbing quietly in his arms. “It’s time she mated, time she put away impossible dreams. We can’t all have the perfect man,” she whispered softly, then turned back to the ceremony.
“… Does the First Cave of the Lanzadonii accept this mating?” Dalanar asked, looking up.
“We accept,” they all replied in unison.
“Echozar, Joplaya, you have promised to mate. May Doni, the Great Earth Mother, bless your mating,” the leader concluded, touching the wooden carving to the top of Echozar’s head and Joplaya’s stomach. He put the donii back in front of the hearth, pushing the peglike legs into the ground so it would stand unsupported.
The couple turned to face the assembled Cave, then began to walk slowly around the central hearth. In the solemn silence, the ineffable air of melancholy surrounding the compellingly beautiful woman added a quality that made her seem even more exquisitely lovely.
The man beside her was a fraction shorter. His large beaky nose protruded beyond a heavy chinless jaw that jutted forward. His overhanging brow ridges, joined at the center, were accented by thick, unruly eyebrows that crossed his forehead in a single hairy line. His arms were heavily muscled, and his huge barrel chest and long body were supported by short, hairy, bowed legs. Those were the features that marked him as Clan. But he could not be called flathead. Unlike them, he lacked the low sloping forehead that swept back into a large long head—the squashed-flat look that prompted the name. Instead, Echozar’s forehead rose as straight and high above his bony brow ridges as that of any other member of the Cave.
But Echozar was incredibly ugly. The antithesis of the woman beside him. Only his eyes belied the comparison, but they overwhelmed. His large, liquid, brown eyes were so full of tender adoration for the woman he loved, they even overwhelmed the unspeakable sadness that hung in the atmosphere through which Joplaya moved.
But not even that evidence of Echozar’s love could overcome the pain Ayla felt for Joplaya. She buried her head in Jondalar’s chest because it hurt too much to look, though she fought to overcome the desolation of her empathy.
When the couple completed the third circuit, the silence was broken as people got up to offer good wishes. Ayla held back, trying to compose herself. Finally, urged by Jondalar, they went to extend their wishes of happiness.
“Joplaya, I’m so glad you’ll be celebrating your Matrimonial with us,” Jondalar said, giving her a hug. She clung to him. He was surprised at the intensity of her embrace. He had the disconcerting feeling she was saying goodbye, as though she would never see him again.
“I don’t have to wish you happiness, Echozar,” Ayla said. “I will wish instead that you are always as happy as you are now.”
“With Joplaya, how can it be any other way?” he said. Spontaneously, she hugged him. He wasn’t ugly to her, he had a comfortable, familiar look. It took him a moment to respond; beautiful women didn’t hug him often, and he felt a warm affection for the golden-haired woman.
Then she turned to Joplaya. As she looked into eyes as green as Jondalar’s were blue, the words she meant to say stuck in her throat. With an aching cry she reached for Joplaya, overcome by her hopeless acceptance. Joplaya held her, patting her back as though it were Ayla who needed consolation.
“It’s all right, Ayla,” Joplaya said, in a voice that sounded hollow, empty. Her eyes were dry. “What else could I do? I’ll never find a man who loves me as much as Echozar does. I’ve known for a long time I would mate him. There just wasn’t any reason to wait anymore.”
Ayla stood back, fighting to control tears she shed for the woman who could not, and she saw Echozar move closer. He put a tentative arm around Joplaya’s waist, still not quite able to believe it. He was afraid he would wake up and find it was all a dream. He didn’t know he had only the shell of the woman he loved. It didn’t matter. The shell was enough.
“Well, no. I didn’t see it with my own eyes,” Hochaman said, “and I can’t say that I believed it, then. But if you can ride horses and teach a wolf to follow you around, then why couldn’t someone ride the back of a mammoth?”
“Where did you say this happened?” Dalanar asked.
“It was not long after we started out, far to the east. It must have been a four-toed mammoth,” Hochaman said.
“A four-toed mammoth? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Jondalar said, “not even from the Mamutoi.”
“They are not the only ones who hunt mammoths, you know,” Hochaman said, “and they don’t live far enough to the east. Believe me, they are close neighbors, in comparison. When you really go east, and get close to the Endless Sea, mammoths have four toes on their hind feet. They tend to be darker, too. A lot of them are almost black.”
“Well, if Ayla could ride on the back of a cave lion, I don’t doubt that someone could learn to ride a mammoth. What do you think?” Jondalar asked, looking at Ayla.
“If you got one young enough,” she said. “I think if you raised almost any animal around people from the time it was a baby, you could teach it something. At least not to be afraid of people. Mammoths are smart; they could learn a lot. We watched the way they broke up ice for water. Many other animals used it, too.”
“They can smell it from a long distance away, too,” Hochaman said. “It’s a lot drier in the east, and the people there always say, ‘If you run out of water, look for a mammoth.’ They can go for quite a while without it, if they have to, but eventually they will lead you to it.”
“That’s good to know,” Echozar said.
“Yes, especially if you travel much,” Joplaya said.
“I don’t plan to travel much,” he said.
“But you will be coming to the Zelandonii Summer Meeting,” Jondalar said.
“For our Matrimonial, of course,” Echozar said. “And I’d like to see you again.” He smiled tentatively. “It would be nice if you and Ayla lived here.”
“Yes. I hope you will both consider our offer,” Dalanar said. “You know this is always your home, Jondalar, and we don’t have a healer, except for Jerika, who is not really trained. We need a lanzadoni and we both think Ayla would be perfect. You could visit with your mother, and return with us after the Summer Meeting.”
“Believe me, we appreciate your offer, Dalanar,” Jondalar said, “and we will consider it.”
Ayla glanced at Joplaya. She had withdrawn, closed in on herself. She liked the woman, but they talked mostly of superficial things. Ayla could not overcome her sorrow at Joplaya’s plight—she h
ad come too close to a similar circumstance—and her own happiness was a constant reminder of Joplaya’s pain. As much as she had grown to like everyone, she was glad they would be leaving in the morning.
She would particularly miss Jerika and Dalanar, and listening to their heated “discussions.” The woman was tiny; when Dalanar held his arm out, she could walk under it with room to spare, but she had an indomitable will. She was as much a leader of the Cave as he was and argued vociferously when her opinion differed from his. Dalanar listened to her seriously, but by no means did he always yield. The welfare of his people was his main concern, and he often took the question at issue to them, but he made most decisions himself as matter-of-factly as any natural leader. He never made demands, he simply commanded respect.
After the first few times, when she misunderstood, Ayla loved to listen to them argue, hardly bothering to hide a smile at the sight of the child-size woman in heated debate with the giant of a man. What amazed her most was the way they could interrupt a violent discussion with a tender word of affection, or to talk of something else, just as though they had not been at each other’s throats, and then resume the verbal combat as though they were the bitterest of enemies. Once the arguments were resolved, they were promptly forgotten. But they seemed to enjoy the intellectual duels, and for all their difference in size, it was a battle of equals. They not only loved each other, they had great respect for each other.
The weather was warming and spring was in full bloom when Ayla and Jondalar started out again. Dalanar passed on good wishes to the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, and he reminded them again of his offer. They had both felt welcome, but Ayla’s sensitivity to Joplaya made it difficult for her to think about living with the Lanzadonii. It would be too hard on both of them, but it was not something she could explain to Jondalar.
He did sense a peculiar strain in the relationship between the two women, though they seemed to like each other. Joplaya behaved differently toward him, too. She was more distant, didn’t joke and tease the way she always had. But he had been surprised at the vehemence of her last embrace. Tears had filled her eyes. He had reminded her that he was not going on a long Journey, he had just come back, and they would see each other soon, at the Summer Meeting.
He had been relieved that they had both been so warmly welcomed, and he would definitely consider Dalanar’s offer, particularly if the Zelandonii were not as accepting of Ayla. It was good to know they would have a place, but in his heart, as much as he loved Dalanar and the Lanzadonii, the Zelandonii were his people. If possible, that was where he wanted to live with Ayla.
When they finally left, Ayla felt as though a burden had lifted. In spite of the rains, she was happy to feel the weather warming, and on sunny days it was too beautiful to be sad for long. She was a woman in love traveling with her man, and going to meet his people, going to her new home. She could not help feeling ambivalent about it, though, full of hope and worry.
It was country Jondalar knew, and he greeted every familiar landmark with excitement, and often a comment or story about it. They rode through a pass between two mountain ridges, then picked up a river that twisted and turned in the right general direction. They left it at its source, and crossed several large rivers flowing from north to south across a low valley, then climbed a large massif overtopped with volcanoes, one still smoking, others quiescent. Crossing over a plateau, near the source of a river, they passed by some hot springs.
“I’m sure this is the beginning of the river that flows right in front of the Ninth Cave,” Jondalar said, full of enthusiasm. “We’re almost there, Ayla! We can be home by nightfall.”
“Are these the hot healing waters you told me about?” Ayla asked.
“Yes. We call them Doni’s Healing Waters,” he said.
“Let’s stay here tonight,” she said.
“But we’re almost there,” Jondalar said, “almost at the end of our Journey, and I’ve been away for so long.”
“That’s why I want to spend the night here. It’s the end of our Journey. I want to bathe in the hot water, and I want to spend one last night alone with just you, before we meet all your kin.”
Jondalar looked at her and smiled. “You’re right. After all this time, what’s one more night? And it is the last time we’ll be alone together for a long time. Besides”—his smile warmed—“I like being with you around hot springs.”
They put up their tent at a site that had obviously been used before. Ayla thought the horses seemed agitated when they were let free to graze on the fresh grass of the plateau, but she had seen some young coltsfoot and sorrel leaves. When she went to pick them, she saw some spring mushrooms and then crab apple blossoms and elder shoots. She returned to their campsite holding the front of her tunic out like a basket, full of fresh greens and other delicacies.
“I think you are planning a feast,” Jondalar said.
“It’s not a bad idea. I saw a nest that I want to go back and check for eggs,” Ayla said.
“Then what do you think of this?” he said, holding up a trout. Ayla smiled with delight. “I thought I saw it in the stream, sharpened a green stick into a gorge, and dug up a worm to thread around it. This fish bit so fast, it was almost like it was waiting for me.”
“Definitely the makings for a feast!”
“But it can wait, can’t it?” Jondalar said. “I think I’d rather see a hot bath right now.” His blue eyes filled with his thoughts of her and aroused her response.
“A wonderful idea,” she said, emptying her tunic beside the firepit, then walking into his arms.
They sat side by side, a little back from the fire, feeling replete, satisfied, and entirely relaxed, watching sparks dance an arabesque and disappear into the night. Wolf was dozing nearby. Suddenly he raised his head and cocked his ears toward the dark plateau. They heard a loud, full-throated neigh, but it was not familiar. Then the mare squealed, and Racer whinnied.
“There’s a strange horse in the field,” Ayla said, jumping up. It was a moonless night and hard to see.
“You’ll never find your way out there tonight. Let me try to find something to make a torch.”
Whinney squealed again, the strange horse neighed, and they heard hoofbeats racing off into the night.
“That does it,” Jondalar said. “It’s too late tonight. I think she’s gone. A horse has captured her again.”
“This time, I think she left because she wanted to. I thought she seemed nervous; I should have paid closer attention,” Ayla said. “It’s her season, Jondalar. I’m sure that was a stallion, and I think Racer went with them. He’s too young, yet, but I’m sure other mares are in season, too, and he would be drawn to them.”
“It’s too dark to look for them now, but I do know this region. We can track them in the morning.”
“The last time, I took her out, and the brown stallion came for her. She came back to me on her own, and later, she had Racer. I think she’s out starting a baby again,” Ayla said, sitting down by the fire. She looked at Jondalar and grinned. “It seems right, both of us pregnant at the same time.”
It took a moment for her statement to register. “Both of you … pregnant … at the same time? Ayla! Are you saying you are pregnant? Are you going to have a baby?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I am going to have your baby, Jondalar.”
“My baby? You’re going to have my baby? Ayla! Ayla.” He picked her up, spun her around, and then kissed her. “Are you sure? I mean, are you sure you are going to have a baby? The spirit could have come from one of the men at Dalanar’s Cave, or even the Losadunai.… That’s all right, if that’s what the Mother wants.”
“I passed my moon time without bleeding, and I feel pregnant. I’ve even been getting a little sick in the morning. Not bad, though. I think we started it when we got down off the glacier,” Ayla said. “And it is your baby, Jondalar, I’m sure of it. It can’t be anyone else’s. Started with your essence. The essence of your manho
od.”
“My baby?” he said, a look of soft wonder in his eyes. He put his hand on her stomach. “You have my baby in there? I’ve wanted that so much,” he said, looking away and blinking his eyes. “Do you know, I even asked the Mother for it.”
“Didn’t you tell me the Mother always gives you what you ask for, Jondalar?” She smiled with his happiness, and her own. “Tell me, did you ask for a boy or a girl?”
“Just a baby, Ayla. It doesn’t matter which.”
“Then you won’t mind if I hope for a girl this time?”
He shook his head. “Just your baby, and maybe, mine.”
“The trouble with tracking horses on foot is that they can travel so much faster than we can,” Ayla said.
“But I think I know where they might be going,” Jondalar said, “and I know a shorter way, up over the top of that ridge.”
“What if they aren’t where you think?”
“Then we’ll have to come back and pick up their trail again, but their tracks are heading in the right direction,” he said. “Don’t worry, Ayla. We’ll find them.”
“We have to, Jondalar. We’ve been through too much. I can’t let her go back to a herd now.”
Jondalar led the way to a sheltered field where he had often seen horses before. They found many horses there. It did not take Ayla long to identify her friend. They clambered down to the edge of the grassy bottomland, although Jondalar watched Ayla closely, a little worried that she might be doing more than she should. She whistled the familiar call.
Whinney lifted her head and galloped toward the woman, followed by a large pale stallion and a young brown one. The pale stallion detoured to challenge the young one, who quickly backed away. Although he was excited by the presence of females in heat, he was not ready to challenge the experienced herd stallion for his own dam. Jondalar ran toward Racer, spear-thrower in hand, ready to protect him from the powerful dominant animal, but the young stallion’s own actions had protected him. The pale horse veered back toward the receptive mare.