by Jean M. Auel
“What kind of place are you looking for, Joharran?”
“You remember last year we found a place somewhat out of the way. At first I thought it might be too far away from all the activities, but it turned out to be just right. There was a place for the horses to graze and for the wolf to be away from the people of the other Caves. Ayla controls him perfectly, and he even pays attention to what I say sometimes, but I wouldn’t want him frightening anyone. And most of us liked that we were able to spread out a bit.”
“As I recall, you also had plenty of firewood right to the end of the season,” Stevadal said. “We even came and got some the last few days.”
“Yes, we were fortunate. We weren’t even looking for that. Manvelar told me he thought there might be a place for us a little closer to your Sun View. A little valley with some grass?”
“Yes, we sometimes have small gathers there with nearby Caves. Hazelnut grows there and blueberries,” Stevadal said. “It’s actually not far from a Sacred Cave. It’s a little distance from here, but it might work for you. Why don’t you come and take a look at it?” Joharran beckoned to Solaban and Rushemar and they followed after him and Stevadal.
“Dalanar and his Lanzadonii stayed with you last year, didn’t they? Are they coming this year?” Stevadal asked as they walked.
“We haven’t heard. He didn’t send us a runner, so I rather doubt it,” Joharran said.
Some members of the Ninth Cave, who had planned to stay with other kin or friends, left the group to find them. Zelandoni went to find the large special dwelling that was always set up for the zelandonia, right in the middle of everything. The rest waited just beyond the field where most of the Caves had gathered for the Summer Meeting, greeting many friends who came to see them. While they waited, the rain began to let up.
When Joharran returned, he went to the waiting group. “With Stevadal’s help, I think I’ve found a place for us,” he said. “Like last year, it’s a little distance away from the main meeting place, but it should work.”
“How far is it?” Willamar asked. He was thinking of Marthona. The trek to the Meeting had not been easy on her.
“You can see it from here, if you know where to look.”
“Well, let’s go look at it,” Marthona said.
A group of more than one hundred and fifty trailed along after Joharran. By the time they reached the place, the rain had stopped and the sun broke through, highlighting a pleasant little blind valley, with room enough for all of those who were staying together with the Ninth Cave, at least for the beginning of the Summer Meeting. After the first ceremonies that marked the initial coming together, the peripatetic summer life of foraging, exploring, and visiting would begin.
Zelandonii territory was much larger than the immediate region. The number of people who identified themselves as Zelandonii had grown so large, their territory had had to expand to accommodate them. There were other Zelandonii Summer Meetings and some individuals or families or Caves did not go to Summer Meetings with the same people every year. Sometimes they went to Meetings that were farther away, especially if they had goods to trade or distant kin. It was a way of maintaining contact. And some Summer Meetings were held jointly between Zelandonii and neighboring people who lived near the ill-defined boundary of their territory.
Because they were such a large and prosperous people, in comparison to the other groups, the name Zelandonii carried a certain prestige, a cachet that others wanted to be associated with. Even those who did not think of themselves as Zelandonii liked to claim a relationship with them in their names and ties. But although their population was large in relation to other people, in reality it was insignificant in terms of their actual numbers and the territory they occupied.
People were in the minority among the inhabitants of that cold ancient land. Animals were far more numerous and diversified; the list of different kinds of living creatures was long. While some of them, such as roe deer or moose, lived singly or in small family groups in the few scattered woodlands or forests, most of them were dwellers of open grasslands—steppes, plains, meadows, parklands—and their numbers were huge. At certain times of year in regions not all that distant from each other, herds of mammoths, megaceros, and horses gathered together in the hundreds; bison, aurochs, and reindeer in the thousands. Migrating birds could darken the sky for days.
There were few disputes between the Zelandonii and their neighbors, partly because there was so much land and so few people, but also because their survival depended on it. If a living site became too crowded, a small group might splinter off, but they only went as far as the nearest available, desirable location. Few wanted to move very far from family or friends, not only because of ties of affection, but in times of adversity they wanted and needed to be close to those they could rely on for help. Where the land was rich and able to support them, people tended to cluster together in rather large numbers, but there were sizable tracts of land that were totally unoccupied by people, except for an occasional hunting foray or gathering expedition.
The world during the Ice Age with its glittering glaciers, transparently clear rivers, thundering waterfalls, and hordes of animals in vast grasslands was dramatically beautiful, but brutally harsh, and the few people who lived then recognized at a fundamental level the necessity of keeping strong affiliations. You helped someone today because you would likely need help tomorrow. It was why customs, conventions, mores, and traditions had developed that sought to diminish interpersonal hostility, ease resentments, and keep emotions in check. Jealousy was discouraged and vengeance dealt with by the society, with retribution meted out by the community that would give the injured parties satisfaction and ease their pain or anger, but that still would be fair to all concerned. Selfishness, cheating, and failing to assist someone in need were considered crimes, and the society found ways to punish such criminals, but penalties were often subtle and inventive.
The people of the Ninth Cave quickly decided on the individual locations for their summer lodges and began to construct semipermanent dwellings. They had been rained on enough and wanted a place where they could be dry. Most of the poles and stakes that were the major structural elements had been brought with them, carefully selected from their nearby wooded valley, cut and trimmed before they left. Many had been used for the traveling tents. They also had smaller, lighter-weight portable shelters that were easier to carry for overnight hunts or other treks.
The summer lodges were all made in generally the same way. They were round with room around the center pole so that several people could stand, with a thatched roof that slanted down toward the vertical outer walls, where the sleeping rolls were laid out. The top of the tall central pole of the traveling tent had been shaped into a long, tapering diagonal. It was made longer by attaching another pole with a similar tapering diagonal on the bottom facing the other way. They were held together with a sturdy rope wrapped round and round and pulled tight.
Another length of rope was used to mark off the distance from the central pole to the circular outer wall, and using that as a guide, they erected an enclosure of upright supports using the same posts that had been used for the tent, plus some additional ones.
Panels made of woven cattail leaves or reeds, or rawhide or other materials, some brought with them and some made on the spot, were fastened to both the outside and the inside of the posts, creating a double wall with air in between for insulation. The ground cloth only went a short distance up the inside wall, but it was enough to keep out drafts. Any moisture that condensed in the cool of the evenings would form on the inside of the outer wall, leaving the inside of the inner wall dry.
The roof of the shelter was made of thin poles of young fir or small-leaved deciduous trees, like willow or birch, which were placed from the central pole to the outer wall. Branches and sticks were fastened between them, and a rough thatch of grasses and reeds was added on top, making a waterproof ceiling. Since it only had to last for a season, most p
eople didn’t make the thatch particularly thick and it was usually made only well enough to keep out rain and wind. Before the end of summer, however, most roofs had to be patched more than once.
By the time most of the structures were finished and everything brought in and arranged, it was late afternoon and would be dark soon, but it didn’t deter people from heading for the Main Camp to see who was there and greet friends and relatives. Ayla and Jondalar still had to make provisions for the horses. Remembering the year before, they fenced in an area somewhat away from the camp with support posts, some brought with them, some found. They used anything that would work, sometimes whole young trees that they dug up and replanted. Crosspieces might be wood or branches or even rope, mostly collected nearby. It wasn’t that the horses couldn’t have jumped over or broken out of the enclosure, it was more to define their space, both for them and for curious visitors.
Ayla and Jondalar were among the last to leave the camp of the Ninth Cave. When they finally started toward the main Summer Camp they passed by eleven-year Lanoga and her thirteen-year brother, Bologan, struggling to make a small summer lodge at the edge of the camp. Since no one wanted to share a dwelling with Laramar, Tremeda, and their children, it only needed to house their family, but Ayla noticed that neither parent was there helping the children.
“Lanoga, where is your mother? Or Laramar?” Ayla asked.
“I don’t know. At the Summer Meeting, I suppose.”
“Do you mean they’ve left you to make your summer lodge by yourselves?”
6
Ayla was appalled. The four younger children were standing around staring with eyes wide open. She thought they looked frightened.
“How long has this been going on?” Jondalar asked. “Who built your lodge last year?”
“Mostly Laramar and me,” Bologan said, “with a couple of his friends, after he promised them some barma.”
“Why isn’t he building it now?” Jondalar asked.
Bologan shrugged. Ayla looked at Lanoga.
“Laramar got into a fight with mother and said he was going to stay in one of the fa’lodges with the men. He took his things and left. Mother chased after him, but she hasn’t come back,” Lanoga said.
Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other and without saying a word, they nodded. Ayla put Jonayla down on her carrying blanket, then they both started working with the children. Jondalar soon realized that they were using the poles from their traveling tent, which would not be enough to build a lodge. But they couldn’t put up the tent because the wet leather hide was disintegrating, and the damp floor mats were falling apart. They had to make everything—wall panels, floor mats, and thatch for the roof—with materials found locally.
Jondalar started by looking for poles. He found a couple near their lodge, then cut down some trees. Lanoga had never seen anyone weave mats and panels quite the way Ayla did, or as fast, but the girl learned quickly when Ayla showed her. The nine-year girl, Trelara, and seven-year boy, Lavogan, tried to help as well, after they were given some instruction, but they were more occupied with helping Lanoga with one-and-a-half-year Lorala, and her three-year brother, Ganamar. Though he didn’t say anything, Bologan noticed as they worked that Jondalar’s techniques created a dwelling of a much sturdier construction than he had made before.
Ayla stopped to nurse Jonayla, and nursed Lorala, too, then got some food for the children from their lodge since apparently the parents hadn’t brought any. They had to build a couple of fires to see what they were doing to finish the work. By the time they were nearly through, people were coming back from the Main Camp. Ayla had gone back to their dwelling for a covering for Jonayla since it was getting chilly. She had just put her baby down in their new summer lodge when she saw people approaching. Proleva, with Sethona on her hip, was walking with Marthona and Willamar, who was carrying a torch in one hand and guiding Jaradal with the other.
“Where did you go, Ayla? I didn’t see you at the Main Camp,” Proleva said.
“We never got there,” Ayla said. “We’ve been helping Bologan and Lanoga build their lodge.”
“Bologan and Lanoga?” Marthona said. “What happened to Laramar and Tremeda?”
“Lanoga said they got into a fight. Laramar decided to go to a fa’lodge, took his things and left, and Tremeda chased after him and didn’t come back,” Ayla said. It was obvious that she was having some trouble controlling her anger. “Those children were trying to build a lodge by themselves with nothing but tent posts and wet floor mats. They didn’t have any food either. I nursed Lorala a little, but if you have any milk, Proleva, she could probably use some more.”
“Where is their lodge?” Willamar said.
“At the edge of the camp, near the horses,” Ayla said.
“I’ll watch the children, Proleva,” Marthona said. “Why don’t you and Willamar see what you can do.” She turned to Ayla. “I’ll watch Jonayla, too, if you like.”
“She’s almost asleep,” Ayla said, indicating where she was to Marthona. “Tremeda’s children could use a few more floor mats, especially since they don’t have enough sleeping rolls. When I left, Jondalar and Bologan were finishing up the roof.”
The three of them hurried toward the nearly completed small dwelling. They could hear Lorala crying as they approached. To Proleva, it sounded like the fussiness of a baby who was overtired, and maybe hungry. Lanoga was holding her, trying to settle her down.
“Why don’t you let me see if she’ll nurse a little,” Proleva said to the girl.
“I just changed her padding, stuffed it with her nighttime sheep’s wool,” Lanoga said, handing the toddler to Proleva.
When she offered her breast, the baby went for it eagerly. Since her own mother’s milk had dried up more than a year before, many other women had taken turns feeding her and she was used to taking milk from any woman who offered. She also ate different kinds of solid food that Ayla had taught Lanoga to make for her. Considering her difficult beginning, Lorala was a remarkably healthy, happy, gregarious, though somewhat undersized child. The women who fed her took a certain pride in her good health and good nature, knowing that they had contributed to it. Ayla knew that they had kept the baby alive, but Proleva knew it was Ayla’s idea originally, after she discovered that Tremeda’s milk had dried up.
Ayla, Proleva, and Marthona found some additional skins and furs that they didn’t mind giving up for the children to use as sleep coverings, and more food. Willamar, Jondalar, and Bologan collected some wood.
The structure was nearly finished when Jondalar noticed Laramar coming. He stopped some ways back, and stared at the small summer lodge, frowning.
“Where did this thing come from?” he asked Bologan.
“We built it,” the boy said.
“You didn’t build it by yourselves,” Laramar said.
“No, we helped him,” Jondalar interjected, “since you weren’t here to do it, Laramar.”
“No one asked you to butt in,” Laramar sneered.
“Those children had no place to sleep!” Ayla said.
“Where’s Tremeda? They’re her children; she’s supposed to see to them,” Laramar said.
“She left after you did, chasing after you,” Jondalar said.
“Then she’s the one who left them, not me,” Laramar said.
“They are the children of your hearth; they are your responsibility,” Jondalar said with disgust, struggling to contain his anger, “and you left them without shelter.”
“They had the traveling tent,” Laramar said.
“The leather of your traveling tent was rotten. After it got soaked, it fell apart,” Ayla said. “They had no food either, and several of them are hardly more than babies!”
“I assumed Tremeda would get some food for them,” Laramar said.
“And you wonder why you are the lowest ranked,” Jondalar said with scorn and a look of disgust.
Wolf was aware that something seriously distressing was going
on between the people of his pack and the man he didn’t like. He wrinkled his nose and started growling at Laramar, who jumped back to stay out of his way.
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Laramar said. He was now getting defensive. “I shouldn’t be the lowest ranked. It’s your fault, Jondalar. You’re the one who suddenly came back from a Journey with a foreign woman and you and your mother connive to put her ahead of me. I was born here; she wasn’t. She should be the lowest ranked. Some people may think she’s special, but anybody who lived with Flatheads is not special. She’s an abomination, and I’m not the only one who thinks so. I don’t have to put up with you, Jondalar, or your insults,” Laramar said, then turned and stomped off.
Ayla and Jondalar looked at each other after Laramar left. “Is there truth in what he says?” Ayla asked. “Should I be ranked lowest because I am a foreigner?”
“No,” Willamar said. “You brought your own bride price with you. Your Matrimonial outfit alone would put you among those with the highest status in any Cave you might choose, but you have also shown yourself to be a worthwhile and valuable person in your own right. Even if you had started out as a low-ranked foreigner, you wouldn’t have stayed there for long. Don’t let Laramar concern you about your place with us; everyone knows what his status is. Leaving these children alone to fend for themselves with no food or shelter bears it out.”
As the builders of the small summer dwelling prepared to return to their own lodge, Bologan touched Jondalar’s arm. When he turned back, Bologan looked down, and his face became a deep shade of red, noticeable even in the firelight.
“I … ah … just want to say, this place is nice, the best summer lodge we ever had,” Bologan said, then quickly went in.
As they were walking back, Willamar said, under his breath, “I think Bologan was trying to thank you, Jondalar. I’m not sure if he has ever thanked anyone before. I’m not sure he knows how.”