The Shore of Women

by Pamela Sargent

  The first tree, at the beginning of Earth, had sprouted and grown tall. At the sight of the land under his roots, the tree grew hard with desire. The spirit of Earth and the Lady caressed him, and Her land welcomed his roots and made him long for Her so greatly that bark grew around him and kept him stiff. A passion filled the tree, and his first seeds fell, to be borne away by the wind, but as boys are given to men by the Lady, so other trees rose around the first and became his band.

  Earth accepted the seed of the trees, as the females of other creatures accepted the seed of their males. But men, by doing evil, had cast their seed carelessly and had lost it in ancient times. No new life came from us, for that was part of our punishment, but in a forest far away, Narid said, the first tree waits, still spilling its seed, and when men have moved closer to redemption, the seeds of the first tree will fall upon them and restore their own seed.

  Narid had seen nothing more in this story than that trees, like the creatures around us, were yet another sign of what we had lost. But now, as the oaks stirred above Birana and me, I saw them as a sign of what I still was. Men had their seed still, and Birana’s kind took it from us. The limbs fluttering overhead brought images of men dancing before other men whom they loved, of ghostly aspects beckoning to a man. Women had not robbed us of our seed but had hidden theirs from us.

  All these thoughts only aroused me more, and I would have nothing from Birana but the warmth of her body while I slept. I kept my eyes on the ground, away from the limbs above.

  At last we began to see the signs of men.

  By a stream running through the wood, I saw that men had dug for roots and gathered plants there. Birana peered at her compass, and we rode on. Soon we were on a trail winding among the trees, a place where men had walked. We did not ride along the trail but kept it in sight as we continued east, concealing ourselves among the trees.

  As we rode, I seemed to feel eyes upon me; yet, when I looked around, I saw no one. I was sure we were being watched but heard no sound except the birds.

  “I come in peace,” I called out in the holy speech. Birana looked at me, startled, for she, it seemed, had sensed nothing. “We mean no harm. I swear it to you in the Lady’s name.” We moved back to the trail and rode along it. If men were watching, it would be useless to hide from them now.

  Then we came to a place along the trail where stumps of trees stood among others that still lived, and where bark had been stripped from other trees. I sniffed the air and knew we were near water.

  “I come in peace,” I cried again.

  An arrow flew past and struck a tree in front of us. Flame reared as Birana clung to her reins.

  “Hold!” a voice shouted in the holy speech before I could act. This man was hidden by the trees but seemed to be above us.

  “You two are alone?” another voice called out from behind me.

  “We are alone,” I answered, “and we come in peace. I swear it to you.”

  “If that is so,” the first voice said, “then cast down all the weapons you carry and drop to the ground from the beasts that carry you. If you do not, you will die here.” The holy speech sounded strange in this man’s mouth. I recalled what Birana had told me, that the holy speech was different in other places. This man drew out his words and then bit them off at the end.

  We had to obey. Birana and I threw down our spears and the knives we carried, then dismounted. I tensed as I waited for the other arrows to fly. A small pouch dropped past my face. I picked it up, opened it, and saw a small piece of dried fish. They would not be offering us food if they intended to kill us.

  “Lead your beasts on along this trail,” the first voice said. “Remember that you will feel the wrath of all our band if you harbor evil intentions toward us.”

  We led the horses forward. As we walked, I heard the men drop to the ground behind us but dared not turn. Ahead of us, more trees had been stripped of bark and more stumps stood on the land. I had never seen land so marked by men, and wondered how many could be in this band. I was feeling our helplessness. The men had made the gesture of offering us food but had not promised a truce.

  Soon we came to a place where many trees had been felled, and I saw a long, low wall of dirt and stone. Beyond lay the lake, so wide it seemed to cover all of the horizon; I could see no shore to the east, where the lake met the sky. Ten men stood on the wall. Four held spears while the others, all with the beardless faces of boys, carried bows. Two of them stood on either side of a passage that led through the wall.

  I turned. Two other men were behind us, carrying the weapons we had dropped. They were dark haired, without the beards of men, and nearly as tall as I. One of them pointed at the passage. “Enter our camp,” he ordered.

  We led our horses through the wall, and I nearly gasped aloud when I saw what lay inside. The land had been cleared, and men were toiling among straight rows of plants, green shoots just beginning to sprout. A path led past these plants to dwellings, round structures built of the trunks of trees that stood upright on the ground. I looked at the men on the wall, at those working, at those who stood near the dwellings, and knew that this band was as large as Truthspeaker’s had been before the Lady destroyed it.

  The two men carrying our weapons moved ahead of us, leading us to a wide clearing around which the dwellings stood. No fire burned at the center of the camp, but from openings in the roofs of the dwellings smoke was rising. One dwelling, smaller than the others, stood apart from them and nearer to the wall. I wondered who lived there, then looked toward the lake, where other men rode the water in two floating vessels made of wood and bark. Other vessels lay on the shore below.

  This was the richest camp I had ever seen. The sight of the men and their strong bodies told me that they did not feel hunger even after the deprivations of the recent winter. This, I thought, might be why so few returned from the east; a man would not want to leave such wealth. But perhaps other travelers had also died here. These men might not want to share what they had.

  We were led past the clearing to a place by the shore, below the dwellings. “You may rest here,” one of the men said. I now saw that even though he wore no beard, he was older than he had first seemed. “Make your camp here. You may take water from the lake and tie your beasts to the trees there. I’ll send my charge to tend to you.”

  “We thank you for your kindness,” I said.

  He held up my metal knife, studying the blade, then tossed it in front of us with our other weapons. “We leave you these. I don’t think you will be so foolish as to use them against anyone here.”

  He and his companion left us and walked back up the gentle slope toward the dwellings. As I glanced around, I noticed that the wall surrounded this camp, stretching nearly to the shore at either end. We could not escape without being seen by the men there.

  We watered the horses, then tethered them by the trees. By the time I had set up a shelter of sticks and draped Tal’s old coat and my own over them, a boy was making his way toward us, carrying a sack. He set the burden down, then bowed a little from the waist.

  “Greetings,” he said. “I am called Tulan.” He squinted at me with his black eyes as he pulled out a basket woven of reeds from the sack. “Do you carry meat in your packs?”

  I nodded.

  “Then I shall leave you only these foods.” He took the top from the basket, then glanced at the horses. “I have heard of horses. Perhaps they will eat of this.” He pulled out a large clay pot and offered it to me. I lifted off its top and saw a watery mixture of grain.

  “We thank you,” I said.

  “It is nothing.”

  Nothing, to give away food to strangers and to feed our horses as well? His generosity was making me uneasy. The boy sat down and, after a moment, we seated ourselves in front of him.

  “You are very kind to strangers, Tulan,” I said.

  “Those who are mighty and blessed can be kind.” He grinned, and there was assurance in his smile. “What are you call
ed?”

  “I am Arvil. The one with me is called Spellweaver, for he knows something of the powers of the mind. I would ask you a few questions.”

  “That is why I am here, to answer them.”

  “I would have you speak more slowly,” I said, “for even the holy speech sounds strange to me in your mouth. How many men and boys are in your band?”

  Tulan put out his hands once, then twice, then yet again until he had thrust his fingers at me eleven times. “It is a great band,” I murmured.

  “It is, and we have a truce with other lake bands with as many men.”

  “You have much, but I see that you can guard it against others who would seek it.”

  “That is so,” he responded, “and each of the lake bands is bound to protect the others and to fight with them if one band is attacked.”

  So this part of Ilf’s story was true. I longed to ask the boy about the holy vision and what it might mean, but held myself back.

  “I am to tell you,” Tulan continued, “to stay here until it’s time for others to speak with you. If you must relieve yourselves, go to that place.” He pointed at a ditch shielded by several shrubs. “I’ll bring you food. Others will not speak with you until we have learned more about you.” He leaned forward. “Had you come on foot, we might have welcomed you more readily, but we have heard tales of those who have tamed the horse.”

  “Some of those tales are not truthful.”

  “Do others follow you?”

  “No one will follow,” I admitted.

  He seemed relieved to hear that. “I’ll tell you some of our lore.” I supposed that he was happy to have new ears for his talk.

  He went on to tell us a story of long ago, when members of this band had first come to the lake. The Lady, in the form of a doe, had led them there, and because they had been a band that had not hunted does with young, but only bucks and other deer that had grown old, they had been rewarded with the bounty of the lake. In the form of a bear, the Lady had shown them the abundance of fish that lived in the waters and had taught them to make nets and boats. As a goose, She had led them to flocks of birds that came to the lake during their migrations. As a wren, She had shown them the plants that grew on the land, and a holy vision had revealed that certain plants could be cultivated and not simply gathered.

  Other visions had shown them new arts, and they had prospered. They had also learned that truces with other bands around the lake would strengthen rather than weaken them. Although they lived very far from the Lady’s enclave and had to travel for days even to reach a shrine, they honored the Lady in all that they did. They often journeyed to a distant shrine in groups, and men of their number were called often enough to bring new boys to the band, while others had joined them after traveling to the lake from other regions. This last statement eased my mind a little.

  I looked past him, seeing that a few men had entered the clearing; they carried a large deer hanging from a pole over their shoulders. Tulan turned his head toward them. “The hunters are back,” he said.

  “Are you not all hunters?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “When we are boys, the men see who is best at hunting or tending plants or fishing or toolmaking.” He struck his chest. “I am one who will hunt. Those who are weaker must tend plants. Those whose hands are skillful craft tools, but it is from the hunters that our Headman is chosen.”

  “You are all one band,” I said. “Can one be more or less than another in a band?”

  Tulan lifted his head. “Do you not have a Headman, and isn’t he higher than all?”

  “Even a Headman must listen to his men and heed their words before he acts.”

  The boy smiled. “Our Headman heeds his own voice and listens only to those around him who have proven their strength, and others must follow. He does not hunt or fish or tend plants or make tools or baskets or pots unless he wishes to do so, for it is his task to watch others and to guide us all. When he grows older, he must choose another Headman.”

  I thought of Geab. “What if he doesn’t want to give it up?”

  Tulan gaped at me. “But he must. He knows when it is time. When our Prayergiver dies, the Headman must become the Prayergiver and choose a new Headman. He then lives in the small hut apart from our other dwellings, and there he prays to the Lady throughout the days until his soul leaves us. He leaves our camp no more, and we honor his holiness, for his prayers protect us.”

  I considered all he had told me. The men on the plateau had trained some of their number to fight with spears, others with bows, but all had labored together at other tasks, according to Bint. The customs of this lake band were much stranger and seemed contrary to all I knew of what a man’s life should be. Wanderer had heard of places where men tilled the soil, yet even he had not come upon so strange a band.

  The men in the clearing were butchering the deer. Another man left one of the dwellings, and my mouth dropped open as I watched him gesture to the others. He was the largest man I had ever seen. His belly was swollen under his leather garments while his arms seemed thicker than my thighs. I waved an arm at him. “Is that giant your Headman?” I asked.

  Tulan turned. “He is. You see our greatness in how well we have kept him fed.” He stood up. “You’ll hear more in time, and we will learn of you when the time for truthsaying comes.” He picked up his sack and left us.

  I looked inside the basket he had given us and found pokeweed, ripe strawberries, and asparagus. We ate this with the dried fish and then fed our horses, who ate readily of the grain. After we had drunk and filled our waterskins at the lake, we sat down under the shelter. From the camp, I could hear the voices of the men speaking in their own tongue as they entered their dwellings.

  I stripped the red skin from the pokeweed that remained, chewed on the leaves, then divided the berries we had left. Birana shook her head as I offered one to her. “I’m full.”

  “I cannot eat them all.”

  She accepted a few. I looked down at her belly, hidden by her coat. “You grow rounder with more food, Birana. Your chest grows fuller and your hips more curved.”

  She narrowed her eyes and drew back a little. “I know,” she whispered, although there was no one near enough to hear us. “If we stay here, they’ll see what I am.”

  I rested my head against my knees. “We cannot escape.”

  “We should never have come here.”

  I felt the burden of her then. “We are here because you seek a refuge, because you thought others of your kind might have found this land. I see none of them here, but this place can be a refuge for you. If you show these men your true nature, they would honor you and serve you, and your life would be an easy one, as would mine.”

  “I would be betrayed the next time one of them went to a shrine. I can’t teach them all…”

  “You told my old band that they didn’t have to travel to shrines while you were among them. Can’t you tell these men the same?” I was warm with anger at her. Here was a camp where she could be safe, where I might find new friends, yet she still dreamed of a refuge that might not be. I wanted to break her hold on me then, to tell her I would travel no more.

  “The boy said nothing of seeing one of us,” she said.

  “Perhaps his band does not speak of such things in front of strangers.” I could still hope.

  I stretched out under the shelter. Birana lay at my side, her arm by mine, seeking nearness to me instead of only enduring it. I clasped her hand tightly and felt her hair against my lips.

  We stayed by the lake, and Tulan brought us another small basket of food. Although men passed by us on the way to their boats, they did not answer any of my greetings. We tended the horses but did not ride, and my idleness soon grew wearisome.

  On the next day, when Tulan came, I motioned to him to sit, then went to the horses and fetched what remained of our meat. I carried it to the boy and put it into his sack, keeping only enough to eat later. “You have given to me and to Spellweave
r,” I said as I sat down. “So I shall give to you. This is most of the meat we have, and you are welcome to it. Share it with others. I am sorry there is no more.”

  Tulan grinned. “I told them you were a good man,” he burst out. “My band will be happy you did this now.” I saw then that I had passed some sort of testing.

  “I must ask you to do something for us, Tulan. I want to speak to one of your men, your Headman or another who is respected among you.”

  He rose. “I will fetch Jerlan, my guardian. He’s one of our best hunters and a man to whom even the Headman sometimes listens.”

  He scurried off as Birana shot me a glance. “What are you going to do now?”

  “You will see,” I answered.

  Tulan returned quickly with a tall, black-haired man, the one who had guided us to the camp and given us back our weapons. We greeted each other, and then I said, “It is not right for us to take from you while giving nothing. I must take up the tasks of a man if I am to stay with you.”

  “And do you wish to stay?”

  “If your band will allow it. Our band is dead. We have no band. We traveled far to reach this place.”

  Jerlan’s dark eyes seemed kind, but I saw that he was also a man who would not listen to foolish or false words. I told him a little of our travels and how far we had come, and he grew more attentive to my words as I talked. I said that I had heard that the men of the lake lived in holiness and treated strangers kindly.

  He nodded at this. “We are kind to those who, when the time for truthsaying comes, show that they are worthy men. To others we are not so kind.” He was silent for a moment while I wondered what he meant by the time for truthsaying. “What do you offer us besides the meat you have already given?”

  I glanced at Birana. “Spellweaver is not strong,” I said carefully, “but my band kept him for his skill with horses and because he has a brave heart. He can teach some of you how to ride if you don’t fear our beasts too much, and perhaps he can learn the art of plant tending from you.” She looked away as I spoke. “I can hunt and gather wild plants. I can make tools and weapons.” I spread the ones I had before him.