The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  Jondalar was half-asleep when she went back to bed. He’d been too tired to get up, but she’d air out and brush off their sleeping roll to clean it in the morning. Now that they were going to stay in one place for a while, she would even have time to wash their furs, she thought. Nezzie had shown her how to do it, but it took time and care.

  Ayla rolled over on her side and Jondalar cuddled up behind her, resting on his side. They were nestled together like two spoons on edge, and he fell asleep holding her, but she was unable to nod off, although she was comfortable and satisfied. She had slept much later than usual that morning, and as she lay awake, she began thinking about the Clan and the Others again. Recollections of her life with them and her stays with various groups of Others kept coming to her mind, and she found herself making comparisons.

  The same kinds of materials were at hand for both peoples, but the uses to which they had been put were not quite the same. Both hunted animals, both gathered foods that grew, and both used hides, bones, vegetal materials, and stones for clothing, shelter, implements, and weapons, but there were differences.

  Perhaps the most noticeable was that while Jondalar’s people decorated their environment with paintings and carvings of animals and designs, the people of the Clan did not. Though she didn’t quite know how to explain it, even to herself, she did perceive that people of the Clan expressed the beginnings of such decoration. Red ochre in a burial, for example, that imparted color to the body. Their interest in unusual objects that they collected to put in their amulets. Totem scars and color markings made on the body for special purposes. But the primeval people of the Clan created no legacy of art.

  Only Ayla’s kind of people did; only people like the Mamutoi and the Zelandonii, and the rest of the Others they had met on their Journey. She wondered if the unknown people to whom she had been born decorated the material objects in their world, and she believed they did. It was the ones who came later, the ones who shared that cold ancient world with the Clan for a time, the ones they called the Others, who were the first to see an animal in a moving, living, breathing form and reproduce it as a drawing or a carving. It was a profound distinction.

  The creation of art, the delineation of animals or purposeful markings, was an expression of the ability to make abstractions—the ability to take the essence of a thing and make of it a symbol that stands for the thing itself. The symbol for a thing has another form as well: a sound, a word. A brain that could think in terms of art was a brain capable of developing to its fullest potential another abstraction of great significance: language. And the same brain that was capable of creating a synthesis of the abstraction of art and the abstraction of language would someday form a synergism of both symbols, in effect, a memory of the words: writing.

  Unlike the day before, Ayla opened her eyes very early the next morning. No red coals glowed in the fireplace and all the lamps were out, but she could discern the contours of the limestone shelf high overhead, above the dark wall panels of Marthona’s dwelling, in the faint reflection of first light, the initial lightening of the sky that heralded the coming of the sun. No one else was stirring when she quietly slipped out of the furs and made her way in the not quite pitch-dark to use the night basket. Wolf lifted his head the moment she got up, whined a greeting of happiness, and followed her.

  She felt a little nauseated, but not quite enough to vomit, and had an urge for something solid to calm her unsettled stomach. She went to the cooking room and started a small fire, then took a few bites of the bison meat that was left on the pelvic bone serving platter from the night before, and a few soggy vegetables from the bottom of the cooking-storage basket. She wasn’t sure if she felt better or not, but she decided to see if she could make a stomach-settling tea for herself. She didn’t know who had made the tea for her the day before, but wondered if it was Jondalar and thought she’d make one of his favorite morning teas as well.

  She got her medicine bag from her traveling pack. Now that we’re finally here, I can replenish my supply of herbs and medicines, she thought as she looked at each package and thought about its uses. Sweet rush can help an upset stomach, but no, Iza told me it could cause a miscarriage, and I don’t want to do that. While she was considering the possible side effects, her mind supplied another bit from her extensive store of medicinal knowledge. Black birch bark can help prevent a miscarriage, but I don’t have any. Well, I don’t think I’m in danger of losing this one.

  I had a much harder time with Durc. Ayla remembered when Iza went out to get fresh snakeroot so she wouldn’t lose him. Iza was already sick by then, and she got cold and wet and it made her worse. I don’t think she ever recovered completely, Ayla thought. I miss you, Iza. I wish you were nearby so I could tell you that I did find a man to mate. I wish you had lived to meet him. I think you would have approved.

  Basil, of course! That can help prevent miscarriage, and it makes a nice drink. She put that package aside. Mint would be good. It settles nausea and helps stomachaches and tastes good. Jondalar likes it, too. She kept that pouch out, too. And hops, that’s good for headaches and cramps, relaxes, she thought as she put it beside the mint. Not too much, though, hops can make you drowsy.

  Milk thistle seeds might be good for me right now, but they need to be steeped a long time, Ayla thought as she continued going through the limited supply of medicinal herbs she had with her. Woodruff, yes, it smells so good. And it calms the stomach, but it’s not too strong. And chamomile, I could use that instead of mint, it’s good for upset stomachs, too. It might taste better with the other herbs, but mint for Jondalar. Marjoram could be good, but no, Iza always used the fresh tops for stomach problems, not dried.

  What else was it that Iza liked to use fresh? Raspberry leaf! Of course! That’s what I need. It’s especially good for morning sickness. I don’t have any leaves, but there were raspberries at the feast the other night, so they must grow nearby. It’s the right season, too. It’s best to pick the leaf when the berries are ripe. I should make sure I get enough for when I go into labor. Iza always used it when a woman was delivering. She told me it relaxed the mother’s womb and helped the baby come out more easily.

  I still have some linden flowers left; that’s especially good for a nervous stomach, and the leaves are sweet and make a nice-tasting tea. The Sharamudoi had a wonderful big old linden tree nearby. I wonder if any linden trees grow around here? She saw movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Marthona coming out of her sleeping area. Wolf also looked up, then stood up expectantly.

  “You’re up early this morning, Ayla,” she said in a soft voice, so as not to disturb those who were still sleeping. She reached down to pat the wolf to acknowledge him.

  “I usually am … if I don’t stay up late the night before, feasting and drinking strong beverages,” Ayla replied in an equally quiet tone and with a wry smile.

  “Yes, Laramar makes a potent drink, but people seem to like it,” Marthona said. “I see you have a fire going already. I usually try to bank the fire at night so I have coals to start one in the morning, but with those firestones you showed us, I could get lazy. What are you making?”

  “A morning tea,” Ayla said. “I like to make a wake-up tea for Jondalar in the morning, too. Can I make some for you?”

  “When the water is hot, I have a tea mixture that Zelandoni wants me to take in the morning,” Marthona said, starting to clean up the remains of the late supper from the night before. “Jondalar told me about your habit of making him morning tea. He was determined to make a tea for you to drink when you woke up yesterday. He said you always had a hot cup ready for him, and for once, he wanted you to wake up to tea. I suggested that he make mint, since it tastes good cold, and it seemed you might sleep late.”

  “I wondered if it was Jondalar who made that. But were you the one who left the basin and water?” Ayla asked. Marthona smiled and nodded.

  Ayla reached for the bentwood tongs used to pick up cooking rocks, took
a hot stone from the fire, and dropped it into the tightly woven tea basket full of water. It steamed and hissed and sent up a few preliminary bubbles. She added another, and after a while, she removed the stones and added more. When the water was boiling, both women infused their individual tea mixtures. Though the low table had been moved closer to the entry to make room for the extra sleeping furs, there was ample room for the two women to sit companionably around it on cushions, sipping their hot beverages.

  “I’ve been wanting a chance to talk to you, Ayla,” Marthona murmured softly. “I often wondered if Jondalar would ever find a woman he could love.” She almost said “again,” but caught herself. “He always had many friends, was well-liked, but he kept his real feelings to himself and few people knew him well. Thonolan was closer to him than anyone. I always thought he would mate one day, but I didn’t know if he would ever allow himself to fall in love. I believe he has.” She smiled at Ayla.

  “It’s true that he often keeps his feelings to himself. I almost mated another man before I realized that. Even though I loved Jondalar, I thought he had stopped loving me,” Ayla said.

  “I don’t think there is any doubt. It’s quite obvious that he loves you, and I’m happy he found you.” Marthona took a sip of tea. “I was proud of you the other day, Ayla. It took courage to face people the way you did after Marona’s trick.… You know she and Jondalar had talked of mating, don’t you?”

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “Though I would not have objected, of course, I will admit that I’m glad he didn’t choose her. She is an attractive woman and everyone always thought she was perfect for him, but I didn’t,” Marthona said.

  Ayla rather hoped Marthona would tell her why. The woman stopped and took a drink of her tea.

  “I would like to give you something a little more appropriate to wear than the ‘gift’ Marona gave you,” the older woman said when she finished her drink and put the cup down.

  “You have already given me something beautiful to wear,” Ayla said. “Dalanar’s mother’s necklace.”

  Marthona smiled as she got up and went quietly into her sleeping room. She returned with a garment draped over her arm. She held it up to show Ayla. It was a long tunic in a pale, soft color rather like the whitened stems of grass after the long winter, beautifully decorated with beads and shells, sewings of colored thread, and long fringes, but it was not made of leather. On close inspection, Ayla saw that it was made of thin cords or threads of some fiber crossed over and under each other, rather like basketry in texture, but very tightly woven. How could anyone weave such fine cords like that? It was similar to the mat on the low table, but even more fine.

  “I have never seen anything like this,” Ayla said. “What kind of material is it? Where does it come from?”

  “I make it; I weave it on a special frame,” Marthona said. “Do you know the plant called flax? A tall, thin plant with blue flowers?”

  “Yes, I’m familiar with a plant like that, and I think Jondalar said it was called flax,” Ayla said. “It’s good for severe skin problems, like boils and open sores and rashes, even inside the mouth.”

  “Have you ever twined it into cordage?” Marthona asked.

  “I may have, I don’t recall, but I can understand how it could be. It does have long fibers.”

  “That’s what I used to make this.”

  “I know that flax is useful, but I didn’t know it could be used to make something as beautiful as this.”

  “I thought you might be able to use it for your Matrimonial. We’ll be leaving for the Summer Meeting soon, at the next full moon, and you said you didn’t have anything to wear for special occasions,” Marthona said.

  “Oh, Marthona, how nice of you,” Ayla said, “but I do have a Matrimonial outfit. Nezzie made it for me, and I promised her I would wear it. I hope you don’t mind. I brought it with me all the way from the Summer Meeting last year. It is made in the Mamutoi style, and they have special customs about the way it should be worn.”

  “I think it would be most appropriate for you to wear a Mamutoi Matrimonial outfit, Ayla. I just didn’t know if you had anything to wear, and I wasn’t sure if we’d have time to make something before we leave. Please keep this anyway,” Marthona said, smiling as she gave it to her. Ayla thought she seemed relieved. “You may have other occasions when you will want to wear something special.”

  “Thank you! This is so beautiful!” Ayla said, holding it up and looking at it again, then in front of her to see how the loose garment would fit. “It must take a long time to make.”

  “Yes, but I enjoy it. I’ve worked out the process over many years. Willamar helped me to make the frame I use, and Thonolan, before he left. Most people have a special craft of some kind. We often trade the things we make, or give them as gifts. I’m getting a little old to do much of anything else now, but I don’t see as well as I once did, especially the close work.”

  “I was going to show you the thread-puller today!” Ayla said, jumping up. “I think it would make it easier for someone who doesn’t see as well to sew. I’ll get it.” She went to her travel packs to get her sewing kit and saw one of the special packages she had brought with her. Smiling to herself, she took it back to the table, too. “Would you like to see my Matrimonial outfit, Marthona?”

  “Yes, I would, but I didn’t want to ask. Some people like to keep it a secret and surprise everyone,” Marthona commented.

  “I have a different surprise,” Ayla said as she unpacked her Matrimonial outfit. “But I think I will tell you. Life has begun inside me. I am carrying Jondalar’s baby.”

  10

  “Ayla! Are you sure?” Marthona asked with a smile. She did think it was a rather strange way of saying that the Mother had Blessed her—carrying Jondalar’s baby—even if it probably was the child of his spirit.

  “As sure as anyone can be. I have missed two moon times, I feel a little sick in the mornings, and I’m aware of some changes in me that usually mean pregnancy,” Ayla said.

  “How wonderful!” Jondalar’s mother said. She reached over and gave Ayla a hug. “If you are already Blessed, it brings luck to your mating, or so people claim.”

  Sitting at the low table, the young woman untied the leather-wrapped package and tried to shake the wrinkles out of the tunic and leggings that had been carried across a continent through every season for the past year. Marthona examined the outfit and quickly saw past the creases as she realized what magnificent garments they were. Ayla would most definitely stand out at the Mating Ceremonial wearing this.

  First of all, the style was utterly unique. Both men and women of the Zelandonii, with some differences and variations related to gender, usually wore rather loosely bloused pullover tunics, belted at the hips, with various embellishments of bone, shell, feather, or fur and fringes of leather or cordage. Women’s clothing, particularly the clothes they wore for special occasions, often had long hanging fringes that swayed as they walked, and a young woman quickly learned how to make the dangling decoration accentuate her movements.

  Among the Zelandonii, a naked woman was an ordinary sight, but fringes were considered very provocative. It wasn’t that women didn’t usually wear clothing, but removing clothes to wash or change or for whatever reason in their close-knit society with relatively little privacy was hardly given a thought. On the other hand, a fringe, especially a red fringe, could give a woman an allure so tantalizing, it could drive men to extremes, on rare occasions even violence because of a particular association.

  When women took on the role of donii-women—when they were making themselves available to teach young men about the Great Earth Mother’s Gift of Pleasure—they wore a long red fringe dangling around their hips to denote their important ritual status. On hot days of summer, they often wore little more than the fringe.

  While donii-women were protected by custom and convention from inappropriate advances and, in any case, they tended to stay in certain areas when they
wore the red fringe, it was believed dangerous for a woman to wear such a fringe at any other time. Who could tell what it might drive a man to do? Though women often wore fringes of colors other than red, any fringe invariably had some erotic implications.

  As a result, the word “fringe,” in subtle innuendo or crude jokes, often carried the double meaning of pubic hair. When a man was so captivated by a woman that he couldn’t stay away from her or stop looking at her, it was said that he was “snared by her fringe.”

  Zelandonii women wore other decorations or sewed them to their clothing, but they particularly liked to wear fringes that moved sensuously when they walked, whether they decorated a warm winter tunic or a naked body. And though they avoided explicitly red fringes, many women chose colors that contained a strong hint of red.

  Ayla’s Mamutoi outfit had no fringes, but there was no doubt that a tremendous amount of effort had been put into making it. The leather, which was of the finest quality, was a rich, earthy, golden yellow hue that almost matched the color of her hair, the result primarily of yellow ochres mixed subtly with reds and other colors. The hide had probably come from deer of some variety, or perhaps saiga antelope, Marthona thought, though it wasn’t the usual velvety soft buckskin of a well-scraped hide. Instead, although it was very soft, the leather had a burnished, shiny finish that was somewhat waterproof.

  But the quality of the basic garments was only the beginning; it was the exquisite decoration that made the outfit so extraordinary. The long leather tunic and the lower part of the leggings were covered with elaborate geometric designs made predominantly of ivory beads, some sections solidly filled in. The designs began with downward pointing triangles, which developed horizontally into zigzags and vertically into diamonds and chevrons, then evolved into complex geometric figures such as rectangular spirals and concentric rhomboids.

  The ivory beaded designs were highlighted and defined by many small amber beads in shades both lighter and darker than the leather, but of the same tone, and with embroideries of red, brown, and black. The tunic, which fell to a downward-pointing triangle at the back, opened down the front, with the section below the hips tapering so that when it was brought together, another downward-pointing triangle was created. It was tied closed at the waist with a finger-woven sash in a similar geometric pattern made of red mammoth hair with accents of ivory mouflon wool, brown musk ox underdown, and deep reddish-black woolly rhinoceros hair.