by Jean M. Auel
“I know, but I wonder how people first thought of cooking nettles for food. Why would they even think of eating them?” Jondalar said.
“I don’t know if we’ll ever find out, but I have to find something to pick them with. Some big leaves to cover the hands so the nettles won’t sting me.” She looked around, then noticed a tall, stiff plant with showy thistle-like purple flower heads, and big heart-shaped soft, downy leaves growing from the ground around the stems. “There’s some burdock. Those leaves feel like fine buckskin, they’ll work.”
“These strawberries are delicious,” Zelandoni said. “A perfect ending to a wonderful meal. Thank you, Ayla.”
“I didn’t do much. The roast came from the hindquarters of a red deer that Solaban and Rushemar gave me before we left. I just made a stone oven and roasted it, and cooked up some cattails and greens.”
Zelandoni had watched Ayla dig a hole in the ground with a small shoulder bone that had been shaped and sharpened at one end and used like a trowel. To remove the loose dirt, she transferred it by small shovelfuls onto an old hide; then gathering the ends together, she hauled the hide away. She lined the hole with stones, leaving a space not much bigger than the meat, then built a fire in it until the rocks were hot. From her medicine bag, she took out a pouch and sprinkled some of the contents on the meat; some plants could be both medicinal and flavorful herbs. Then she added some of the tiny rootlets growing out of the wood avens rhizome, which tasted like cloves, along with hyssop and woodruff.
She wrapped the red deer roast in the burdock leaves. Then she covered the hot coals in the bottom of the hole with a layer of dirt so they wouldn’t burn the meat, and dropped the leaf-wrapped roast in the little oven. She piled wet grasses on top and more leaves, and covered it all with more dirt to make it airtight. She topped it with a large, flat stone that she had also heated over a fire, and let the roast cook slowly in the residual heat and its own steam.
“It wasn’t just cooked meat,” Zelandoni insisted. “It was very tender and had a flavor that I wasn’t familiar with, but it tasted very good. Where did you learn to cook like that?”
“From Iza. She was the medicine woman of Brun’s clan, but she knew more than the healing uses of plants; she knew how they tasted,” Ayla said.
“That’s exactly how I felt when I first tasted Ayla’s cooking,” Jondalar said. “The flavors were unfamiliar, but the food was delicious. I’ve gotten accustomed to it now.”
“It was also a smart idea to make those little cooking bags out of the cattail leaves, then putting the nettle greens and the green cattail tops and shoots in them before putting them in the boiling water. It was so easy to pull them out. You didn’t have to fish around in the bottom of the pot,” the First said. “I’m going to use that idea for making decoctions and tisanes.” She saw a frown of puzzlement on Jondalar’s face and added a clarification. “Cooking medicines and steeping teas.”
“I learned that at the Summer Meeting of the Mamutoi. A woman there was cooking that way, and many of the other women started doing it too,” Ayla said.
“I also liked the way you put a little fat on top of the hot flat stone and cooked those cattail flour cakes on it. You put something in them as well, I noticed. What is in that pouch that you use?” the Woman Who Was First asked.
“The ashes of coltsfoot leaves,” Ayla said. “They have a salty flavor, especially if you dry them first and then burn them. I like to use sea salt, when I can get it. The Mamutoi traded for it. The Losadunai live near a mountain made of salt, and they mine it. They gave me some before we left, and I still had some when we arrived here, but it’s gone now, so I use the ashes of coltsfoot leaves made the way Nezzie did. I used coltsfoot before, but not the ashes.”
“You have learned a lot from all your travels, and you have many talents, Ayla. I didn’t realize cooking was one of them, but you are very good at it.” Ayla didn’t quite know what to say. She didn’t consider cooking a talent. It was just something you did. She still didn’t feel comfortable with direct praise and didn’t know if she would ever be, so she didn’t respond to it. “Big, flat rocks like that are hard to find. I think I’ll keep that one. Since Racer is pulling a pole-drag, I can pack it and won’t have to carry it,” Ayla said. “Would anyone like some tea?”
“What kind are you making?” Jondalar said.
“I thought I’d start with the cooking water that was used for the nettles and cattails, and add some hyssop,” Ayla said, “and maybe woodruff.”
“That ought to be interesting,” Zelandoni said.
“The water is still warm. It won’t take much to heat it up again,” she said, putting cooking stones in the fire again.
Then she started putting things away. She carried aurochs fat in a cleaned intestine, and had used some to cook with. To close it, she twisted the end of the intestine, then put it in the stiff rawhide container that held meats and fats. The fat had been rendered in simmering water to a smooth white tallow and was used both for cooking and for light when it got dark, and on this trip when going into a cave. The food left over from their evening meal was wrapped in large leaves, tied with cord, and hung from the tripod of tall poles along with the meat container.
Tallow was the fuel that was put in the shallow stone lamps. Wicks could be any of a number of absorbent materials such as lichen or dried boletus mushrooms. When lit in the absolute dark of a cave, the light shed by the lamps was much brighter than seemed possible. They would be using them in the morning when they went into the nearby cave.
“I’m going to the river to clean our bowls. Would you like me to clean yours, too, Zelandoni?” Ayla asked as she added hot stones to the liquid, watched it boil up in a hiss of steam, then added whole fresh hyssop plants.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
When she returned she found her cup filled with hot tea, and Jondalar holding Jonayla, making her laugh with funny sounds and faces. “I think she’s hungry,” he said.
“She usually is,” Ayla said, smiling as she took the child and settled down near the campfire, with her cup of hot tea nearby.
Jondalar and Zelandoni had been talking before the baby started fussing, apparently about his mother, and picked up the conversation once Jonayla was content and quiet again.
“I didn’t know Marthona all that well when I first became a Zelandoni, though there were always stories about her, stories of her great love for Dalanar,” the First said. “Once I became the acolyte of the Zelandoni before me, she told me about the relationships of the woman who was known for her competent leadership of the Ninth Cave so I would understand the situation.
“Her first man, Joconan, had been a powerful leader and she learned a great deal from him, but in the beginning, I was told, she didn’t so much love him as admire and respect him. I had the feeling that she almost worshipped him, but that isn’t the way Zelandoni put it. She said Marthona worked very hard to please him. He was older, and she was his beautiful young woman, though he had been ready to take on two women at the time, perhaps even more. He hadn’t chosen to mate before, and didn’t want to wait long to have a family once he decided to have one. More than one mate would give him more assurance that there would be children born to his hearth.
“But Marthona was soon pregnant with Joharran, and when she gave birth to a son, Joconan wasn’t in such a hurry anymore. Besides, not long after her son was born, Joconan started to get sick. It wasn’t obvious at first and he kept it to himself. Soon he discovered that your mother was more than beautiful, Jondalar; she was also intelligent. She found her own strength in helping him. As he grew weaker, she took on more and more of his responsibilities as leader, and did it so well that when he died, the people of her Cave wanted her to stay on as leader.”
“What kind of man was Joconan? You said he was powerful. I think Joharran is a powerful leader. He usually manages to persuade most people to agree with him and do what he wants,” Jondalar said. Ayla was fascinated. She had always
wanted to know more about Marthona, but she was not a woman to speak much about herself.
“Joharran is a good leader, but not powerful in the same way that Joconan was. He’s more like Marthona than her mate. Joconan could be daunting sometimes. He had a very commanding presence. People found it very easy to go along with him, and difficult to oppose him. I think some people were afraid to disagree with him, though he never threatened anyone, that I was aware of. Some people used to say he was the Mother’s chosen. People, young men in particular, liked to be around him, and young women threw themselves at him. They say almost all young women wore fringes then, trying to snare him. It’s no wonder he waited until he was older before he mated,” Zelandoni said.
“Do you think fringes really help a woman snare a man?” Ayla asked.
“I think it depends on the man,” the Donier said. “Some people think that when a woman wears a fringe, it suggests her pubic hair, and that she is willing to expose it. If a man is easily excited, or interested in a particular woman, a fringe can arouse him and he’ll follow her around until she decides to capture him. But a man like Joconan knew his own mind, and I don’t think he was interested in a woman who felt she needed to wear a fringe to attract a man. It was too obvious. Marthona never wore fringes and she never lacked for attention. When Joconan decided he wanted her and was willing to take the young woman from the distant Cave to be trained as a Zelandoni, since they were like sisters, they all agreed. It was the Zelandoni who objected to the double mating. He had promised that the visitor would be returned to her people after she learned the necessary skills.”
Ayla knew the Donier was a good storyteller, and she found herself totally enraptured, partly by the storytelling, but more by the story that was being told.
“Joconan was a strong leader. It was under his leadership that the Ninth Cave grew so large. The cave always had the size to accommodate more people than usual, but not many leaders were willing to be responsible for so many,” Zelandoni said. “When he died, Marthona was overcome with grief. I think for a time she wanted to follow him to the next world, but she had a child, and Joconan left a big hole in the community. It needed to be filled.
“People started coming to her when they needed the kind of help that a leader provides. Things like resolving disputes, organizing visits to other Caves, travels to Summer Meetings, planning hunts and deciding how much each hunter needed to share with the Cave, both immediately and for the next winter. After Joconan got sick, they got used to coming to Marthona, and she to handling the problems. Their need and her son may be what kept her going. After a while, she became the acknowledged leader, and eventually her grief eased, but she told the Zelandoni before me that she didn’t think she would ever mate again. Then Dalanar walked into the Ninth Cave.”
“Everyone says that he was the great love of her life,” Jondalar said.
“Dalanar was the great love of her life. For him, Marthona could almost have given up her leadership, but not quite. She felt they needed her. And though he loved her as much as she loved him, after a while, he needed something of his own. He wasn’t content to sit in her shadow. Unlike you, Jondalar, his skill in working with the stone wasn’t enough.”
“But he is one of the most skilled I have ever met. His work is known by everyone, and they all acknowledge him as the best. The only flint-knapper I’ve ever known who can compare with him is Wymez, of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi. I always wished the two of them could meet,” Jondalar said.
“Perhaps, in a sense they have, through you,” the large woman said. “Jondalar, you must know that if you aren’t already, you will soon be the most renowned flint-knapper of the Zelandonii. Dalanar is a skilled toolmaker, there’s no question of that, but he’s Lanzadonii now. Anyway, his real skill was always people. He is happy now. He has founded his own Cave, his own people, and though in a way he will always be Zelandonii, his Lanzadonii will someday come into their own.
“And you are the son of his heart, as well as the son of his hearth, Jondalar. He’s proud of you. He loves Jerika’s daughter, Joplaya, too. He’s proud of you both. Although in a hidden place in his heart, he might always love Marthona, he adores Jerika. I think he loves that she looks so exotic, and that she is so little, yet so fierce. That’s part of what attracts him. He’s so big that next to him she looks half his size, she looks delicate, but she is more than a match for him. She has no desire to be leader; she’s happy to let him do it, although I have no doubt that she could. Her strength of will and character are formidable.”
“You are certainly right about that, Zelandoni!” he said, with a laugh, one of his big, lusty warm laughs, its spontaneous enthusiasm all the more astonishing because it was unexpected. Jondalar was a serious man, and though he smiled easily, he seldom laughed out loud. When he did, the unreserved exuberance of it came as a surprise.
“Dalanar found someone after he and Marthona severed the knot, but many doubted that she would ever find a man to replace him, would ever love another man in the same way, and she didn’t, but she found Willamar. Her love for him is not less than her love for Dalanar, but of a different character, just as her love for Dalanar was not the same as her love for Joconan. Willamar also has a skill with people—that’s true of all the men in her life—but he satisfies it as the Trade Master, traveling, making contacts, seeing new and unusual places. He has seen more, learned more, and met more people than anyone, including you, Jondalar. He loves to travel, but even more, he loves coming home and sharing his adventures and knowledge about the people he met. He has established trading networks all across the Zelandonii land and beyond, and has brought back useful news, exciting stories, and unusual objects. He was a tremendous help to Marthona as leader, and now to Joharran. There is no man I respect more. And, of course, her only daughter was born to his hearth. Marthona always wanted a daughter, and your sister, Folara, is a lovely young woman,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla understood the feeling. She too had wanted a daughter very much, and she glanced down at her sleeping infant with a strong feeling of love.
“Yes, Folara is beautiful, and also intelligent and fearless,” Jondalar said. “When we first arrived, and everyone else was so uneasy about the horses and all, she didn’t hesitate. She ran down the path to greet me. I’ll never forget that.”
“Yes, Folara makes your mother proud, but more, with a daughter one always knows that her children are your own grandchildren. I’m sure she loves the children born to her sons’ hearths, but with a daughter there is no doubt. Then, of course, your brother Thonolan was also born to Willamar’s hearth and though she played no favorites, he was the one who made her smile. But he made everyone smile. He had a way with people that was even more winning than Willamar’s, warm, open friendliness—qualities no one could resist, and he had the same love of travel. I doubt that you would ever have gone on such a long Journey if not for him, Jondalar.”
“You’re right. I never thought of making a Journey until he decided to go. Visiting the Lanzadonii was far enough for me.”
“Why did you decide to go with him?” Zelandoni asked.
“I don’t know if I can explain it,” Jondalar said. “He was always fun to be around, so I knew it would be easy traveling with him, and he did make the trip sound exciting, but I didn’t think we’d go as far as we did. I think part of it was that sometimes he could be a little reckless and I felt a need to look out for him. He was my brother and I think I loved him more than anyone I knew. I knew I’d come home someday, if it was possible, and I felt that if I was with him, he’d come back home with me, eventually. I don’t know … something was pulling me,” Jondalar said. He glanced at Ayla, who had been listening even more intently than Zelandoni.
He didn’t know it, but my totem and maybe the Mother pulled him, Ayla thought. He had to come and find me.
“What about Marona? Obviously you didn’t feel enough for her to make you want to stay. Did she have anything to do with your decision to go?”
the First asked. This was the first time since his return that the Donier had an opportunity to really talk to him about why he took his long Journey, and she was going to take advantage of it. “What would you have done if Thonolan had not decided to make a Journey?”
“I guess I would have gone to the Summer Meeting and probably mated Marona,” Jondalar said. “Everyone expected it, and there wasn’t anyone I cared for more, at that time.” He looked up and smiled at Ayla. “But to be honest, I wasn’t thinking about her when I decided to go, I was worried about mother. I think she guessed Thonolan might not return, and I was afraid she might worry that I wouldn’t either. I did plan to come back, but you never know. Anything can happen on a Journey, and many things did, but I knew Willamar wouldn’t be going away, and she had Folara and Joharran.”
“What makes you think Marthona did not expect Thonolan to return?” the First asked.
“It was something that she said to us when we left to go visit Dalanar. Thonolan was the one who noticed it. Mother said ‘Good Journey’ to him, not ‘Until you return,’ as she did to me. And remember when we first told mother and Willamar about Thonolan? Willamar said that mother never expected him to return, and as I feared, she was afraid I wouldn’t come back either when she found out I had gone with him. She said she was afraid she had lost two sons,” Jondalar said.
That was why he couldn’t stay with the Sharamudoi when Tholie and Markeno asked us to, Ayla thought. They were so welcoming and I had grown so fond of them during our visit, I wanted to stay, but Jondalar couldn’t. Now I know why, and I’m glad we came all the way back. Marthona treats me like a daughter and a friend, and so does Zelandoni. I really like Folara, and Proleva and Joharran, and many others. Not everyone, but most people have been nice.
“Marthona was right,” Zelandoni said. “Thonolan was favored with many Gifts, and he was greatly loved. Many people used to say he was a favorite of the Mother. I never like it when people say that, but in his case it was prophetic. The other side of being one of Her favorites is that She can’t stand to be separated from them for too long and tends to take Her favorites back early, when they are still young. You were gone so long, I wondered if you were a little too favored, also.”