by Jean M. Auel
“The only way a man can be sure is if a woman shares Pleasures with only her mate,” Zelandoni said. “Like you, Ayla.”
Ayla’s frown deepened. “But what about Mother Festivals? Most women look forward to them. They want to Honor the Mother, to share her Gift of Pleasures with more than one man.”
“Yes, most women do, and men, too. It adds excitement and interest to their lives. Most women also want a mate to help take care of her children,” Zelandoni said.
“Some women don’t have mates. Their mothers, and aunts, and brothers help them, especially with a newborn. Even the Cave helps women take care of their children. Children have always been provided for,” Ayla said.
“That’s true, but things can change. There have been a few difficult years in the past, when animals were more scarce and plant food less abundant. When there is not as much, some people don’t always want to share. If you only had enough food for one child, which child would you give it to?”
“I would give up my own food, for any child,” Ayla said.
“For a while, yes. Most people would. But for how long? If you don’t eat, you would become weak and sick. Then who would take care of your child?”
“Jonda …” Ayla started; then she stopped and put her hand to her mouth.
“Yes.”
“But, Marthona would help, too, and Willamar, even Folara. The whole Ninth Cave would help,” Ayla rushed ahead.
“That’s true, Marthona and Willamar would, as long as they were able, but you know Marthona is not well, and Willamar is not getting younger. Folara is going to mate Aldanor in the Late Matrimonial this season. When she has a baby of her own, who will she feed first?”
“It’s never that bad, Zelandoni. Sometimes things get a little scarce in the spring, but you can always find something to eat,” Ayla said.
“And I hope that will always be true, but a woman usually feels more secure if she has a mate to help her.”
“Sometimes two women share a hearth and help each other with their children,” Ayla said. She was thinking about Aldanor’s people, the S’Armunai, and Attaroa, who tried to get rid of all the men.
“And they may become mates to each other. It is always better to have someone around to help, someone who cares, but most women choose men. It’s the way the Mother created most of us, and you have told us why, Ayla.”
Ayla glanced over toward the man in the bed. “But if you knew everything was going to change, Zelandoni, why did you allow it to happen? You’re the First. You could have stopped it,” Ayla said.
“Perhaps, for a while. But the Mother would not have told you if She didn’t want Her children to know. And once She decided, it was inevitable. It could not be kept a secret. When a truth is ready to be known, it may be delayed, but can’t be stopped,” Zelandoni said.
Ayla closed her eyes, thinking. Finally she opened them and said, “Jondalar was so … angry. So violent.” Tears were welling up.
“The violence has always been there, Ayla. It is for most men. You know what Jondalar did to Madroman, and he was little more than a boy then. He has just learned to keep it under control, most of the time.”
“But he couldn’t stop hitting him. He nearly killed Laramar. Why?”
“Because you chose Laramar, Ayla. Everyone heard Jondalar yelling, ‘He’s making my baby.’ You can be sure no man has forgotten those words. Why did you choose Laramar?”
Ayla bowed her head and tears tracked down her face as quiet sobs began. Finally she got it out. “Because Jondalar chose Marona.” The tears she had held back for so long were suddenly flowing and there was no stopping them. “Oh, Zelandoni, I never knew what jealousy was until that moment when I saw them together. I’d just lost my baby, and I’d been thinking about Jondalar and looking forward to seeing him, and maybe starting another baby with him. It hurt so much to see him with Marona, and it made me so angry, I wanted to make him hurt, too.” Zelandoni found a piece of soft bandaging material and gave it to her to wipe her eyes and her nose.
“And he wouldn’t talk to me afterward. He didn’t say he was sorry I lost the baby. Or hold me and comfort me. He didn’t even touch me, not once. He never said one word to me. It hurt even more when he wouldn’t talk to me. He didn’t even give me a chance to be angry. To tell him how I felt. I wasn’t even sure if he still loved me.” She sniffled, and wiped away more tears, then continued.
“When Jondalar saw me at the feast, and finally came over to say he wanted to talk to me, Laramar happened to be nearby. I know Jondalar has no respect for Laramar. There is no man he dislikes more. He thinks Laramar not only treats his mate and her children badly, he causes other men to do the same. I knew it would make Jondalar angry if I chose Laramar instead of him, I knew it would hurt him. But I didn’t know he would get so brutal. I didn’t know he would try to kill him. I just didn’t know.”
Zelandoni reached for Ayla and held her while she cried. “I thought it was something like that,” she said, patting her back and letting her get her tears out, but her mind was filling in details.
I should have paid closer attention, Zelandoni thought. I knew she had just miscarried, and that always brings on feelings of melancholy, and I knew Jondalar was not handling the problem well. He never does in this kind of situation, but Ayla seemed to be. I knew she was upset about Jondalar. I didn’t realize how much. I should have, but she’s hard to assess. It surprised me that she was called. I didn’t think she was quite ready, but I knew it had happened the moment I saw her.
I thought it was difficult for her, especially with the miscarriage, but she has always been so strong. I didn’t realize until I talked to Marthona just how bad it was. Then when she told her calling in front of the whole zelandonia—that caught me by surprise, too—I knew something had to be done about it right away. I should have talked to her first; then I would have known what to expect. It would have given me some time to think of the implications. But there is always so much going on at these Summer Meetings. It’s not an excuse. I should have been there to help her, help them both, and I wasn’t. I have to accept responsibility for a large part of this whole unfortunate affair.
While she was leaning on the soft shoulder of the large woman, sobbing and finally letting out the tears she had held back for so long, Ayla kept thinking about the question Zelandoni had asked. Why did I choose Laramar? Why did I choose the worst man in the whole Cave, probably the worst man at the whole Summer Meeting?
What a horrible Summer Meeting this has been. Instead of rushing to get here, it would have been better if I hadn’t come at all, she said to herself. Then I wouldn’t have seen them together. If I hadn’t seen Marona and Jondalar, if someone had just told me, it would have been better. I still wouldn’t have liked it, but at least every time I shut my eyes, I wouldn’t see them.
Maybe that’s what made me choose Laramar, what made me want to hurt Jondalar so much. I wanted to make him feel the way I was feeling. What does that make me? Wanting to strike back, wanting to hurt. Is that worthy of a Zelandoni? If I loved him so much, why should I want to hurt him? Because I was jealous. Now I know why the Zelandonii try to prevent it.
Jealousy is a terrible thing, Ayla said to herself. I had no right to feel so hurt. Jondalar didn’t do anything wrong. It was his right to choose Marona if he wanted to. He wasn’t breaking his bond; he was still contributing to the hearth, still helping to provide for Jonayla and me. He has always done more than he had to. He has probably taken care of Jonayla more than I have. I know how bad he always felt about hitting Madroman when he was younger. He hated himself for it; he must feel terrible now. And what will happen to him? What will the Ninth Cave do to him? Or the zelandonia, or all the Zelandonii, for almost killing Laramar?
Ayla finally sat back, wiped her eyes and her nose, reached for her tea. Zelandoni hoped the release had done her some good, but Ayla’s mind was still whirling. It’s all my fault, she thought. Tears started to fall again as she sat sipping cold tea, a
lmost without her noticing. Laramar is hurt so bad, he’ll never be the same, and it’s my fault. He wouldn’t be hurt if I hadn’t encouraged him, coaxed him, made him think I wanted him.
And she’d had to force herself to do it. She hated the thought of his dirty, sweaty hands touching her. It made her skin crawl, feel itchy, grimy, and she couldn’t wash it away. She had bathed, scrubbed herself nearly raw, flushed herself out. Even though she knew it was dangerous, she drank a tea of mistletoe leaves and other herbs that made her vomit and gave her painful cramps, to expel anything that may have started. But nothing she did could rid her of the feel of Laramar.
Why had she done it? To hurt Jondalar? She was the one who couldn’t find time for him. She was the one who was up all night and spent most of her waking hours memorizing songs and Histories and symbols and counting words. If she loved him so much, why didn’t she find time for him, too?
Was it because she enjoyed her training? She did love it, loved learning all the things she had to know to be zelandoni. All the knowledge that could be revealed, and all that was hidden. The symbols that had secret meaning, symbols that she could scratch on a stone, or paint on a cloth, or weave into a mat. She knew what they meant. All the zelandonia knew what they meant. She could send a stone with symbols on it to another Zelandoni, and the person who carried it wouldn’t have any idea that it meant anything at all, but the other zelandoni would know.
And she loved all the ceremony. Ayla remembered how moved and impressed she had been at her first ceremony with only the zelandonia that was held deep in that cave. Now she knew how to make them impressive. She had learned all the tricks, though it wasn’t just tricks. Some of it was real, frighteningly real. She knew that some of the zelandonia, particularly the older ones, didn’t really believe anymore. They had done it all so many times, they had grown accustomed to their own magic. Anyone could do it, they said. Maybe anyone could, but not without training. Not without help, or the magic medicines. What did it mean to fly with no wind, with your body still back with the zelandonia or the Cave, to someone who’d forgotten that not everyone could, or who did it only out of habit or duty?
Ayla remembered suddenly, at her initiation, hearing the One Who Was First say that she would be First someday. At the time Ayla had ignored it; she couldn’t imagine herself as First, and besides she had a mate and a child. How could anyone be First and have a mate and family at the same time? Some of the zelandonia had families, but not many.
All she had ever really wanted, from the time she was little, was to have a mate and children, her own family. Iza had told her she would never have children—her Cave Lion totem was too strong—but she had surprised them. She’d had a son. Broud would have hated it if he’d known that by forcing her, he had given her the one thing she wanted. But it had been no Gift of Pleasures then. Broud didn’t choose her because he cared about her. He loathed her. He forced her only to prove he could do whatever he wanted to her, and because he knew she detested it.
Now she had done it to herself. Forced herself to choose a man she detested to hurt a man she loved. Look what she had done to Jondalar because of her jealousy. It was her fault that he had almost killed a man. She didn’t deserve a family. She couldn’t even take care of her family as an acolyte. It would be much more difficult as a full-fledged Zelandoni. He’d be better off without her. Maybe she should let him go, let him find another mate.
But, how could she not be mated to Jondalar? How could she live without Jondalar? The thought brought on a freshet of new tears, which caused Zelandoni to wonder. It had seemed that Ayla had almost cried herself out. How could she live without Jondalar? Ayla thought. But how could Jondalar live with her now? She wasn’t worthy of him. She had nearly driven him to kill, just because he needed to satisfy his needs. Needs she obviously wasn’t satisfying. Even women of the Clan would do that, anytime their mates wanted. Jondalar deserves a better woman.
But what about Jonayla? She’s his daughter, too, and he loves her so much. He’s raised her more than I have. Jonayla deserves better than me for a mother. If I break the bond, he can mate again. He’s still the most beautiful … no, the most handsome man of all the Caves. Everyone thinks so. He would have no trouble finding another woman, even a younger one. I am old already; a younger woman could have more children with him. He can even choose … Marona … if he wants to. It hurt her just to think it, but she felt a need to punish herself, and she could think of no worse pain to inflict on herself.
That’s what I’ll do. I’ll break the bond and give Jonayla to Jondalar, and let him find another woman to have a family with. When I get back to the Ninth Cave, I won’t move back into my home, I’ll move in with Zelandoni, or I’ll have another place built, or move away and be Zelandoni to another Cave … if any other Cave would have me. Maybe I should just go away, find another valley and live by myself.
Zelandoni watched the play of emotions across Ayla’s face, but she couldn’t quite decipher them. There always was something unfathomable about the woman, Zelandoni thought. But there is no doubt. Someday she will be First. Zelandoni had never forgotten that day in Marthona’s dwelling when Ayla, young and untrained, had nevertheless overpowered the forceful mind of the First. It had shaken her more than she cared to admit.
“If you are feeling better, we should go, Ayla … Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave. We don’t want to be late to the meeting. People will have a lot of questions, especially after what happened between Jondalar and Laramar,” the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother said.
“Come on, Jondalar. We need to get to the meeting. There are some questions I want to ask,” Joharran said.
“You go on. I’ll come later,” Jondalar said, hardly looking up from the bedroll he was sitting on.
“No, I’m afraid not, Jondalar. I was specifically told to make sure you came with me,” Joharran said.
“Told by whom?”
“Zelandoni and Marthona. Who do you think?”
“What if I don’t want to go to this meeting?” Jondalar said, testing his prerogatives. He felt so miserable, he didn’t want to move.
“Then I guess I’ll have to ask this mighty Mamutoi friend of yours to carry you out there, the way he carried you here,” Jondalar’s brother said, grimly smiling at Danug. They were in the shelter that Danug, Druwez, Aldanor, and some other men used. Since only men used it, it was called a fa’lodge although it wasn’t with the other fa’lodges on the outskirts of the Camp, or very far from the Ninth Cave’s regular family dwellings. “You’ve hardly moved since. Whether you want to or not, Jondalar, you are going to have to face people. This is an open meeting. No one is going to discuss your situation. That will come later, after we see how well Laramar recovers.”
“He should clean up a little,” Solaban said. “He still has bloodstains on his clothes.”
“I think you’re right,” Joharran said, then looked at Jondalar. “Are you going to do it yourself, or is somebody going to have to dunk you?”
“I don’t care. If you want to dunk me, go ahead,” Jondalar said.
“Jondalar, get a clean tunic and come to the river with me,” Danug said, speaking Mamutoi. It was a way to let Jondalar know he had someone he could talk to in private, if he didn’t want anyone else to know what he was saying; besides, he enjoyed the ease of speaking his own language rather than always struggling with Zelandonii.
“Fine,” Jondalar said, sighing deeply, then hauling himself up. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He really didn’t care what happened to him. Jondalar was convinced that he had lost everything that mattered: his family, including Jonayla, the respect of his friends, and his people, but most of all, Ayla’s love, and that he deserved to lose it.
Danug watched Jondalar plodding alongside him toward the river, oblivious to everything around him. The young Mamutoi had seen the same kind of problems between the two people he had come so far to see before, people he cared a great deal about and who, he knew
, loved each other more than any two people he had ever met. He wished there was some way he could make them see what he and everyone around them knew, but just telling them wouldn’t help. They would have to come to the realization on their own, and now it wasn’t just them. Jondalar had seriously injured someone, and while Danug was not familiar with the details of Zelandonii customs, he knew there would be consequences.
Zelandoni moved the drape, pushed the screen aside, and peeked out of the concealed private access at the rear of the large zelandonia dwelling, directly opposite from the regular entrance. She scanned the assembly area that came down from the hillside behind and opened out onto the camp. People had been gathering all morning and it was nearly full.
She had been right about questions. The meaning of the ceremony and the new verse to the Mother’s Song were beginning to be understood, but people were unsure. It was unsettling to think about what changes might happen, especially after Jondalar’s behavior. Zelandoni looked again to make sure that certain people had arrived, and then waited a little longer to give the last stragglers a chance to get settled. Finally she gave a signal to a young zelandoni, who conveyed the “she’s ready” sign to the others, and when everything was prepared, Zelandoni stepped outside.
Zelandoni Who Was First was a woman who exhibited great presence, and her magnificent size, both in height and mass, contributed to her bearing. She also commanded a large repertoire of techniques and tactics to keep gatherings focused on points she wanted to emphasize, and she would be using all her skills, both intuitive and learned, to project confidence and certainty to the large number of people who were watching her with such intensity.
Knowing how people had a tendency to speak out, she announced that since there were so many people, it would help keep things more orderly if questions were asked by the leaders of the Caves, or by only one member of each family. But if someone felt a strong need to say something, it should be brought up.
Joharran asked the first question, but it was a point everyone wanted clarified. “That new verse, I want to be sure I understand, does it mean that Jaradal and Sethona are my children, not just Proleva’s?”