The Earth's Children Series 6-Book Bundle

by Jean M. Auel

  “Yes. The small bone in his left lower leg was also broken, and his right wrist, but those would not have been fatal, of course,” Zelandoni said.

  “No, and I wasn’t so concerned about those breaks, I just wondered if you knew of anything else that I could have done for him,” Ayla said, her earnest face full of concern.

  “It bothers you that you couldn’t save him, doesn’t it?”

  Ayla nodded and lowered her head.

  “You did everything you could, Ayla. We will all walk in the world of the spirits someday. When Doni calls us, young or old, we have no choice. Not even a Zelandoni is gifted enough to stop it, or even to know when it will happen. That is a secret Doni shares with no one. She allowed the Spirit of the Bison to take Shevonar in exchange for the bison we took. It is a sacrifice She sometimes demands. Perhaps She felt we needed to be reminded that Her Gifts should not be taken for granted. We kill Her creatures so that we may live, but we need to appreciate the Gift of Life She has given us when we take the lives of Her animals. The Great Mother is not always gentle. Sometimes Her lessons are hard.”

  “Yes. That is what I have learned. I do not think the Spirit World is a gentle place. The lessons are hard, but valuable,” Ayla said.

  Zelandoni did not reply. She had found that people often kept talking to fill the gap if she did not respond immediately, and she learned more from her silence than she would have from asking questions. After a time, Ayla did continue.

  “I remember when Creb told me that the Spirit of the Cave Lion had chosen me. He said the Cave Lion was a strong totem, who would offer powerful protection, but that strong totems are hard to live with. He told me if I paid attention, my totem would help me, and let me know when I’ve made the right decision, but he said totems test you to make sure you are worthy before they give you something. He also said the Cave Lion would not have chosen me if I was not worthy,” Ayla said. “Maybe he meant able to bear it.”

  The donier was surprised at the depth of understanding Ayla’s comments showed. Were the people that she called Clan really capable of such perception? If she had said the Great Earth Mother instead of the Spirit of the Cave Lion, the words could have come from a Zelandoni.

  Finally, The One Who Was First continued. “Nothing could be done for Shevonar, except to ease his pain, and you did that. Using a poultice was an intriguing approach. Did you learn that from your Clan woman?”

  “No,” Ayla said, shaking her head. “I’ve never done that before. But he was in so much pain, and I knew with his injuries I couldn’t give him anything liquid to drink. I thought of using smoke. I’ve burned mullein to make a smoke that alleviates certain coughs, and I know plants that are sometimes burned in sweatlodges, but I was afraid that it might make him cough, and with his damaged breathing sacs, I didn’t want to do that. Then I noticed the bruising, though it was more than that, I think. The bruise on his skin turned almost black after a while, but I know that certain plants can ease the pain of bruising when put on the skin, and I happened to notice some on the way here from the hunting surround. So I went back and got some. It seemed to help a little.”

  “Yes, I think it did,” the donier said. “I may try that sometime myself. You do seem to have a natural, inborn sense about healing, Ayla. And I think it’s telling that you feel bad. Every good healer that I know is always bothered when someone is lost. But there was nothing more you could have done. The Mother decided to call him, and no one can thwart Her will.”

  “You’re right, of course, Zelandoni. I didn’t think there was any hope, but I wanted to ask anyway. I know you have much to do, and I don’t want to take any more of your time,” Ayla said as she got up to leave. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

  Zelandoni watched the young woman as she started to walk away. “Ayla,” she called. “I wonder if you would do something for me.”

  “Of course, anything, Zelandoni,” she said.

  “When we get back to the Ninth Cave, will you dig up some red ochre? There is an embankment near The River by the big rock. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, I saw the ochre when Jondalar and I went swimming. It’s very bright red, more red than most. I’ll get some for you.”

  “I will tell you how to purify your hands, and give you a special basket for it when we get back,” Zelandoni said.

  14

  It was a somber group of people that returned to the Ninth Cave the next day. The hunt had been eminently successful, but the cost had been too dear. As soon as they arrived, Joharran turned Shevonar’s body over to the zelandonia, to prepare it for burial. It was taken to the far end of the shelter, near the bridge up to Down River, to be ritually washed and dressed in his ceremonial clothing and jewelry by Zelandoni, Relona, and several others.

  “Ayla,” Zelandoni called as she was walking back to Marthona’s dwelling. “We’re going to be needing that red ochre you said you would get for me.”

  “I’ll go get it right away,” Ayla said.

  “Come with me. I’ll give you a special basket and something to dig it with,” the woman said. Zelandoni led her to her dwelling and held the drape aside so Ayla could enter. She had never been inside the donier’s home before, and she looked around with interest. Something about it reminded her of Iza’s hearth, perhaps the many drying leaves and other parts of plants that were hanging from cords strung across the back end of the main room. There were several raised beds against the wall panels in the front part, though she was sure that was not where the large woman slept. There appeared to be two other rooms partitioned off. Glancing through the opening, she saw that one of them appeared to be a cooking area. She guessed the other might be a sleeping room.

  “Here’s the basket and the pick for collecting the red earth,” Zelandoni said, giving her a sturdy container stained red from use and an adzelike digging tool firmly attached to an antler handle.

  Ayla left Zelandoni’s dwelling carrying the basket and pick. Zelandoni walked out with her and started toward the south end of the shelter. Wolf had found a place where he liked to rest on the stone porch, out of the way, but where he could watch the activities. When he saw Ayla, he immediately ran to her. The donier stopped.

  “I think it might be wise if you kept Wolf away from the body of Shevonar,” she said. “For his own protection. Until the man is safely buried in sacred ground, his life spirit is floating free and very confused. I know how to protect people, but I’m not sure how to defend a wolf, and I am concerned that Shevonar’s elan might try to inhabit this animal. I have seen wolves go mad, and foam at the mouth. I believe they are trying to fight off something, maybe something evil or a bewildered spirit. The bite of such an animal will kill like a deadly poison.”

  “I will look for Folara and ask her to watch him when I bring the red ochre,” Ayla said.

  Wolf followed along behind her as she walked down the path toward the place where she and Jondalar had gone swimming and cleaned themselves shortly after they arrived. She filled the basket nearly full, then started back up the path. She saw Folara talking to her mother and explained Zelandoni’s request. The young woman grinned, delighted to stay with the wolf. Her mother had just asked her to come and help prepare the body. It was not something she wanted to do, and she knew Marthona would not refuse Ayla’s request.

  “It may be best to keep him inside Marthona’s dwelling. If you want to go out, I have a special rope that can be put around his neck in a way that won’t choke him. Wolf doesn’t like it much, but he’ll put up with it. Come with me and I’ll show you how to put it on him,” Ayla said.

  Then she walked to the far end of the ledge and gave the red ochre to the First. She stayed to help clean and dress the body of Shevonar. Jondalar’s mother soon came to help as well—she had done it many times before—and told Ayla that Folara had invited several young people to their dwelling, and Wolf seemed content to be with them.

  Ayla was intrigued by the clothing they put on the dead hunter, t
hough she was reluctant to mention her interest at the time. The outfit consisted of a loose, soft tunic made of the furs of different animals, and hides tanned and colored in various shades that were sewn together into intricate patterns and accented with beads, shells, and fringes. The tunic was bloused and belted at the hips with a colorful band of woven fabric. The leggings, though less elaborate, matched the tunic, as did the calf-high foot coverings, which had a fringe and an edging of fur attached to the tops. Necklaces made of shells, beads, various animal teeth, and ivory carvings had been placed around his neck and artfully arranged.

  Then the body was laid out on blocks of limestone, on top of a large, somewhat flexible blanket-size mat of grasses woven with designs that were colored with red ochre. Long cords were strung through each end, which, Marthona explained to Ayla, could be pulled together so that the mat would envelop him. The lengths of cordage would then be wrapped around the shrouded body and tied. Beneath the mat was a strong netting made of flax cordage, which could be slung from a pole like a hammock so that he could be carried to the sacred ground and lowered into the grave.

  Shevonar had been a spear-maker, and his tools for making them were placed beside him, along with some finished spears and the parts of some he had been working on, which included wooden shafts, ivory and flint points, and the sinew, cords, and glue used to attach them. The sinew and cords were used to fasten the points to the shafts, and to bind sections of shorter pieces of wood together to make longer spears, which were then cemented with resinous pitch or glue.

  Relona had brought the things from their dwelling, and she sobbed with grief when she placed Shevonar’s favorite shaft-straightener within easy reach of his right hand. It was made of an antler of a red deer, the stem part, from the horn core at the head to the first branching tines. After the tines had been cut off, a good-size hole was bored through the wide end where the antler had begun to branch out. Ayla recognized that it was similar to the tool Jondalar had brought back with them that had belonged to his brother Thonolan.

  Depictions of animals, including a stylized mountain sheep with large horns, and various symbols had been carved into the device. She recalled Jondalar saying that they lent potency to the shaft-straightener so that the spears made with it would fly straight and true, and would have a compelling attractiveness to the animal at which they were aimed, to make a clean kill. That they also added a pleasing aesthetic touch was appreciated.

  While Shevonar’s body was being prepared under the supervision of Zelandoni, Joharran was directing others to construct a temporary shelter with a rooflike covering made of a thin layer of thatched grasses supported by poles. When the body was ready, the shelter was placed over him, then walled with quickly made movable panels. The Zelandonia entered the shelter to perform the ritual that would keep the free-floating spirit close to the body and within the shelter.

  When they finished, everyone who had touched or handled or worked close to the man whose life-force had left his body had to be ritually cleaned themselves. Water was the element that was used, and flowing water was considered best for this particular cleansing. They were all required to immerse themselves completely in The River. Whether they undressed or were fully clothed didn’t matter. They followed the path down to The River bank below the stone shelf. The Zelandonia invoked the Great Mother, then the women went upstream a ways, and the men downstream. All of the women removed their clothing, but a few of the men jumped in, clothing and all.

  Jondalar had helped build the burial shelter. He and the others who had erected the shelter around the body were also required to be purified in The River. Afterward he walked with Ayla back up the path. Proleva had arranged to have a meal ready for them. Marthona sat with Jondalar and Ayla, and Zelandoni joined them after a while, leaving the grieving widow with her family. Willamar came looking for Marthona and sat with them, also. While she was with people with whom she felt comfortable, Ayla thought this would be a good time to ask about the clothing they had put on Shevonar’s body.

  “Does everyone who dies get dressed in such special clothes?” she asked. “It must have taken a lot of work to make Shevonar’s outfit.”

  “Most people want to wear their best clothes for special occasions, or when they first meet people. That’s why they have ceremonial clothes. They want to be recognized and make a good impression. Since people don’t know what to expect when they reach the next world, they want to make the right impression there, and they want whoever they meet to know who they are,” Marthona said.

  “I didn’t think clothes went to the next world,” Ayla said. “It’s the spirit that goes. The body stays here, doesn’t it?”

  “The body returns to the womb of the Great Earth Mother,” Zelandoni said, “the life spirit, the elan, returns to Her spirit in the next world, but everything has a spirit form, rocks, trees, the food we eat, even the clothes we wear. The elan of a person doesn’t want to return naked, or empty-handed. That’s why Shevonar was dressed in his Ceremonial clothes, and given the tools of his craft and his hunting weapons to take with him. He will be given food, too.”

  Ayla nodded. She speared a rather large piece of meat, took one end in her teeth, then, holding the other end, cut off the piece in her mouth with her knife and put the rest back on her scapula bone plate. She chewed for a while with a thoughtful expression, then swallowed.

  “Shevonar’s clothes were beautiful. So many little pieces all sewn together into a pattern like that,” she commented. “Animals and designs, it almost seemed to tell a story.”

  “In a way, it does,” Willamar said, smiling. “That’s how people are recognized, distinguished from each other. Everything on his Ceremonial outfit means something. It has to have his elandon, and his mate’s, and of course, the Zelandonii abelan.”

  Ayla looked puzzled. “I don’t understand those words. What’s an elandon? Or a Zelandonii abelan?” she asked.

  Everyone looked at Ayla with surprise. They were such commonly used terms, and Ayla spoke Zelandoni so well, it was hard to believe she didn’t know them.

  Jondalar looked a bit chagrined. “I guess the words never came up,” he said. “When you found me, Ayla, I was wearing Sharamudoi clothes, and they don’t have quite the same way of showing who a person is. The Mamutoi have something similar, but not the same. A Zelandonii abelan is a … well … it’s like those tattoos on the sides of Zelandoni’s and Marthona’s forehead,” the man tried to explain.

  Ayla looked at Marthona, then Zelandoni. She knew all the zelandonia and the leaders had an elaborate tattoo made up of squares and rectangles of different colors, sometimes embellished with additional lines and swirls, but she’d never heard a name for the mark.

  “Perhaps I can explain the meaning of the words,” Zelandoni said.

  Jondalar looked relieved.

  “I suppose we should start with ‘elan.’ You do know that word?”

  “I heard you use it today,” Ayla said. “It means something like spirit or life-force, I think.”

  “But you didn’t learn this word before?” Zelandoni asked, scowling at Jondalar.

  “Jondalar always said ‘spirit.’ Is that wrong?” Ayla said.

  “No, it’s not wrong. And I suppose we do tend to use ‘elan’ more when there is a death, or a birth, because death is the absence or end of elan, and birth is the beginning,” the donier said.

  “When a child is born, when a new life comes into this world, it is filled with elan, the vital force of life,” the One Who Was First said. “When the child is named, a Zelandoni creates a mark that is a symbol for that spirit, that new person, and paints it or carves it on some object—a rock, a bone, a piece of wood. That mark is called an abelan. Each abelan is different and is used to designate a particular individual. It might be a design made of lines or shapes or dots, or a simplified form of an animal. Whatever comes to mind when the Zelandoni meditates about the infant.”

  “That’s what Creb—The Mog-ur—used to do, me
ditate, to decide what a new baby’s totem was!” Ayla said, surprised. She wasn’t alone.

  “You are talking about the Clan man who was the … Zelandoni of your clan?” the donier asked.

  “Yes!” Ayla said, and nodded.

  “I’ll have to think on that,” the large woman said, more astounded than she wanted to let on. “To continue, the Zelandoni meditates, then decides on the mark. The object with the mark on it, the symbol object, is the elandon. The Zelandoni gives it to the baby’s mother to keep safe until the child is grown. When they pass into adulthood, the mother gives her children their elandons as part of their coming of age ceremony.

  “But the symbol thing, the elandon, is more than just a material object with designs painted or engraved on it. It can hold the elan, the life-force, the spirit, the essence of each member of the Cave, much the way a donii can hold the Mother’s spirit. The elandon has more power than any other personal item. It is so powerful that in the wrong hands it can be used against a person to create terrible afflictions and adversity. Therefore, a mother keeps her children’s elandons in a place known only to her, and perhaps her mother, or her mate.” Suddenly Ayla realized that she would be responsible for the elandon of the child she was carrying.

  Zelandoni explained that when the elandon was given to a child who had reached adulthood, that person would hide it in a place known only to the new adult, often quite far away. But an innocuous object, like a stone, would be picked up from close by as a surrogate and given to a Zelandoni, who customarily put it in a crack in a stone wall of a sacred place, perhaps a cave, as an offering to the Great Mother. While the thing that was offered seemed insignificant, its meaning was much greater. It was understood that Doni could trace the surrogate back to the original symbol thing, and from that to the person to whom it belonged, without anyone, not even a Zelandoni, knowing where the elandon was hidden.

  Willamar tactfully added that the zelandonia as a whole were highly respected and considered trustworthy and beneficial. “But they are very powerful,” he said. “For many people a touch of apprehension is part of the respect they command, and any individual Zelandoni is only human. A few have been known to misuse their knowledge and abilities, and some people fear that given the opportunity, one of those might be tempted to use a powerful object like the elandon against someone they disliked, or to teach a person a lesson if they felt they had been wronged. I have never known it to happen, but people do like to embellish stories.”