by Jean M. Auel
Before She was through, Her children loved too.
Earth’s Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.
That was the part everyone was waiting for. It meant the formalities were over, it was time for feasting and other festivities.
People started milling around waiting for the feast to be set out. Jonayla, who had been sleeping contentedly while Ayla was sitting quietly, started to squirm around when they all joined in on the Mother’s Song. She woke up when her mother got up and started moving. Ayla took her out of her carrying blanket and held her out over the ground, where she let go of her water. She had learned quickly that the sooner she went, the sooner she’d be out of the cold and held close to a warm body again.
“Let me take her,” Jondalar said, reaching for the child. Jonayla smiled at the man, which elicited a smile in return.
“Wrap her in this blanket,” Ayla said, handing him the soft hide of a red deer that she was using to carry her. “It’s getting chilly, and she’s still warm from sleep.”
Ayla and Jondalar walked toward the camp of the Third Cave. They had enlarged their space to include room for their neighboring Cave in the main Summer Meeting area. The Ninth put up a couple of shelters for their own use especially during the day, but they still referred to it as the camp of the Third Cave. They also tended to share meals and join together for feasts, but Matrimonial Feasts were always prepared and shared by the entire group.
They joined the rest of Jondalar’s family and friends who were bringing food to the large meeting area of the Summer Camp near the zelandonia lodge. Proleva, as usual, organized the entire affair, assigning tasks and delegating individuals to be responsible for various jobs. People were coming from all directions bringing the components of the great feast. Each camp had developed their own variations on the standard ways of cooking the substantial quantity and diversity of foods that were available in the region.
The abundant grasslands and gallery forests along rivers provided rich feed for the many varieties of large grazing or browsing animals, including aurochs, bison, horse, mammoth, woolly rhinoceros, megaceros, reindeer, red deer, and several other types of deer. Some animals that in later times retreated to mountains spent certain seasons on the cold plains, like the wild goat known as ibex, the wild sheep called mouflon, and a goat-antelope referred to as chamois. A sheep-antelope named saiga lived on the steppes all year. In the coldest part of winter musk-oxen also appeared. There were also small animals, usually caught in traps, and fowl, often brought down with stones or throwing sticks, including Ayla’s favorite, ptarmigan.
A wide selection of vegetables was available, including roots such as wild carrots, cattail rhizomes, flavorful onions, spicy little pignuts, and several different kinds of starchy biscuit roots and ground nuts that were collected with digging sticks, then eaten raw, cooked, or dried. Thistle stems, held up by the flower head so the sharp thorns could be scraped off before cutting, were delicious when lightly cooked; burdock stems required no special handling but needed to be picked young. The green leaves of lamb’s quarter made a wonderful wild spinach; stinging nettles were even better, but had to be picked with a large leaf from another plant to protect the hand from the stinging, which disappeared when they were cooked.
Nuts and fruits, especially berries, were also in abundance, and an assortment of teas was provided. The steeping of leaves, stems, and flowers in hot water, or just letting them sit out in the sun for a while, was usually enough to make an infusion with the desired flavors and characteristics. But steeping was not a sufficiently rigorous process to extract the flavors and natural constituents from hard organic substances; barks, seeds, and roots usually required boiling to make the proper decoctions.
Other beverages were available, like fruit juices, including fermented varieties. Tree saps, particularly birch, could be boiled down to bring out the sugar and then fermented. Grains and, of course, honey could also be made into an alcoholic drink. Marthona provided a limited quantity of her fruit wine, Laramar some of his barma, and several others had brought their own varieties of drinks with variable alcoholic content. Most people brought their own eating utensils and bowls, although a supply of wood or bone platters, and carved or tightly woven bowls and cups, were offered for those who wanted to use them.
Ayla and Jondalar walked around greeting friends and sampling the foods and drinks offered by different Caves. Jonayla was often the center of attention. Some people were curious to see if the foreigner who had grown up with Flatheads, whom some still considered animals, had given birth to a normal child. Friends and relatives were just pleased to see that she was a happy, healthy, and very pretty little girl, with fine, almost white, soft curly hair. Everyone also knew immediately that it was Jondalar’s spirit that the Great Mother had selected to mix with Ayla’s to create her daughter; Jonayla had the same extraordinarily vivid blue eyes.
They passed by a group of people who had set up camp on the edge of the large communal area, and Ayla thought she recognized some of them. “Jondalar, aren’t those people Traveling Storytellers?” she asked. “I didn’t know they were coming to our Summer Meeting.”
“I didn’t know either. Let’s go and greet them.” They hurried to the camp. “Galliadal, how nice to see you,” Jondalar called out as they neared.
A man turned around and smiled. “Jondalar! Ayla!” he said, approaching them with both hands stretched out to them.
He clasped Jondalar’s hands. “In the name of the Great Earth Mother, I greet you,” Galliadal said.
The man was nearly as tall as Jondalar, somewhat older, and nearly as dark as the Zelandoni man was light. Jondalar’s hair was light yellow, Galliadal’s was dark brown but with lighter streaks, and thinning on top. His blue eyes were not as striking as Jondalar’s, but the contrast to his darker skin coloring made them intriguingly noticeable. His skin is not brown like Ranec’s, Ayla thought. It’s more like he has been out in the sun a lot, but I don’t think it fades much in winter.
“In the name of Doni, you are welcome to our Summer Meeting, Galliadal, and welcome to the rest of your Traveling Cave,” Jondalar replied. “I didn’t know you had come. How long have you been here?”
“We arrived before noon, but we shared a meal with the Second Cave before we set up camp. The leader’s mate is a far-cousin of mine. I didn’t even know she had two-born-together.”
“You’re related to Beladora? Kimeran and I are age-mates; we went through our manhood rites together,” Jondalar explained. “I was the tallest one there and felt out of place, until Kimeran came. I was so glad to see him.”
“I understand how you felt, and you are even taller than me.” Galliadal turned his attention to Ayla. “Greetings to you,” he said, grasping her outstretched hands.
“In the name of the Great Mother of All, welcome,” Ayla replied.
“And who is this pretty little thing?” the visitor said, smiling at the baby.
“This is Jonayla,” Ayla said.
“Jon-Ayla! Your daughter, with his eyes, that’s a good name,” Galliadal said. “I hope you are coming tonight. I have a special story for you.”
“For me?” Ayla said with surprise.
“Yes. It’s about a woman who has a special way with animals. It’s been very well liked everywhere we’ve been,” Galliadal said with a big grin.
“Do you know someone who understands animals? I’d like to meet her,” Ayla said.
“You already know her.”
“But, the only person I know like that is me,” Ayla said, then blushed when she understood.
“Of course! I couldn’t pass up such a good story, but I don’t give her your name, and I changed some other things. Many people ask if the story is about you, but I never tell them. It makes it more interesting. I’ll be telling it when we get a good crowd. Come and listen.”
“Oh, we will,” Jondalar said. He had been watching Ayla and from her expression, he didn’t think she was particularly happy about the idea of a st
oryteller making up stories about her and telling them to all the Caves. He knew many people who would love the attention, but he didn’t think that she would. She already got more attention than she wanted, but he couldn’t blame Galliadal. He was a storyteller and Ayla’s story was a good one.
“It’s about you, too, Jondalar. I couldn’t leave you out,” the Storyteller said, with a wink. “You’re the one who was gone on a Journey for five years and brought her back with you.”
Jondalar winced to himself to hear that; it wasn’t the first time that stories had been told about him, and they weren’t always ones he wanted to have spread around. But it was best not to complain or make anything out of it; that would just add to the story. Storytellers loved to tell stories about individuals who were known, and people loved to hear them. Sometimes they used real names and other times, especially if they wanted to embellish the story, they would make up a name so people would have to guess who the story was about. Jondalar grew up hearing such stories, and he loved them, too, but he loved the Elder Legends and Histories of the Zelandonii better. He’d heard many stories about his mother when she was leader of the Ninth Cave, and the story about the great love of Marthona and Dalanar had been told so many times, it was almost legend.
Ayla and Jondalar chatted with him awhile, then wandered toward the camp of the Third Cave, stopping along the way to talk with various people they knew. As the evening deepened, it grew quite dark. Ayla stopped for a moment to look up. The moon was new, and without its glowing light to moderate their brilliance, the stars filled the night sky with an awe-inspiring profusion.
“The sky is so … full … I don’t know the right word,” Ayla said, feeling a touch of impatience with herself. “It is beautiful, but more than that. It makes me feel small, but in a way that makes me feel good. It is greater than us, greater than everything.”
“When the stars are bright like that, it is a wondrous sight,” Jondalar said.
While the bright stars did not bestow as much radiance as the moon would have, it did provide almost enough illumination to see their way. But the multitude of stars was not the only light. Every camp had great bonfires, and torches and lamps had been placed along paths between camps.
When they reached the camp of the Third Cave, Proleva was there with her sister, Levela, and their mother, Velima. They all greeted each other.
“I can’t believe how much Jonayla has grown in just a few moons,” Levela said. “And she’s so beautiful. She has Jondalar’s eyes. But she looks like you.”
Ayla smiled at the compliment to her baby, but deflected the one directed at her. “I think she looks like Marthona, not me. I’m not beautiful.”
“You don’t know what you look like, Ayla,” Jondalar said. “You never look at a polished reflector, or even a pool of still water. You are beautiful.”
Ayla changed the subject. “You are really showing now, Levela,” Ayla said. “How are you feeling?”
“Once I got over feeling sick in the morning, I’ve been feeling good,” Levela said. “Vigorous and strong. Although, lately, I get tired easily. I want to sleep late and take naps in the day, and sometimes if I stand for a long time, my back hurts.”
“Sounds about right, wouldn’t you say,” Velima said, smiling at her daughter. “Just the way you are supposed to feel.”
“We’re setting up an area to take care of children so their mothers and mates can go to the Mother Festival and relax,” Proleva said. “You can leave Jonayla, if you want. There will be singing and dancing, and some people had already drunk too much before I left.”
“Did you know the Traveling Storytellers are here?” Jondalar asked.
“I heard they were supposed to come, but I didn’t know they had arrived,” Proleva said.
“We talked to Galliadal. He said he wanted us to come and listen. He said he has a story for Ayla,” Jondalar said. “I think it’s a thinly disguised story about her. We should probably go and listen so we’ll know what people will be talking about tomorrow.”
“Are you going, Proleva?” Ayla asked as the woman was putting down her sleeping baby.
“It was a big feast, and I’ve been working on it for many days,” Proleva said. “I think I’d rather stay here and watch the little ones with just a few women. It would be more restful. I’ve been to my share of Mother Festivals.”
“Maybe I should stay and watch the children, too,” Ayla said.
“No. You should go. Mother Festivals are still new to you, and you need to become familiar with them, especially if you are learning to be a Zelandoni. Here, give me that little one of yours. I haven’t cuddled her for days,” Proleva said.
“Let me nurse her first,” Ayla said. “I’m feeling rather full anyway.”
“Levela, you should go, too, especially since the storytellers are here. You too, mother,” Proleva said.
“The storytellers will be here for many days. I can see them later, and I’ve been to my share of Mother Festivals, too. You’ve been so busy, we haven’t had much time to visit. I’d rather stay here with you,” Velima said. “But you should go, Levela.”
“I’m not sure. Jondecam is already there, and I told him I’d meet him, but I am tired already. Maybe I’ll just go for a while, to hear the storytellers,” she said.
“Joharran is there, too. He almost has to be, just to keep an eye on some of the young men. I hope he takes some time to enjoy himself. Tell him about the storytellers, Jondalar. He always enjoys them.”
“I will if I can find him,” Jondalar said.
He wondered if Proleva was staying away to give her mate the freedom to enjoy the Mother Festival. Although everyone knew they could take partners other than their mates, he knew that some people didn’t necessarily want to watch their own mate couple with someone else. He knew he didn’t. It would be very hard for him to see Ayla go off with some other man. Several men had already shown an interest in her, the Zelandoni of the Twenty-sixth, for example, and even the storyteller, Galliadal. He knew that such jealousy was frowned on, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He just hoped he would be able to hide it.
When they returned to the large gathering area, Levela quickly spied Jondecam and hurried ahead, but Ayla stopped at the edge just to watch for a while. Almost all the people who were attending the Summer Meeting at this location had already arrived and she was still not entirely comfortable with so many people in one place, especially in the beginning. Jondalar understood and waited with her.
At first glance the large space seemed filled with a vast amorphous throng surging in an eddying mass, like a great roiling river. But as she watched, Ayla began to see that the crowd had formed itself into several groups, generally around or near a large fire. In one area near the edge, close to the Storytellers’ camp, many people were gathered around three or four people talking with exaggerated gestures, who were standing on a platform-like construction made of wood and hard rawhide that raised them somewhat above the crowd so they could be seen more easily. Those nearest to the platform were sitting on the ground or on logs or rocks that had been dragged closer. Almost directly opposite, across the gathering area, other people were dancing and singing to the sound of flutes, drums, and other percussion musical instruments. Ayla felt drawn to both and was trying to decide where to go first.
In another area people were gambling, using various tokens and gaming pieces, and in a nearby area, people were getting refills of their favorite beverages. She noticed Laramar doling out portions of his barma, with a false smile.
“Garnering favors,” Jondalar said, almost as though he knew what she was thinking. She wasn’t aware of the look of distaste that had appeared on her face when she saw the man.
Ayla saw that Tremeda was among those who were standing around waiting for more of his barma, but Laramar wasn’t offering any to her. She turned toward the nearby group who were picking at what was left of the food, which had been gathered together and offered for whoever wanted more.
Ayla watched the young couple as they headed for the darkened periphery of the gathering and saw when they paused to embrace. She felt a moment of embarrassment; she hadn’t meant to observe them when they were being intimate. Then she saw that there were others in certain areas away from the main activities who also appeared to be closely involved with each other. Ayla felt herself flush.
Jondalar smiled to himself. He had seen where she was looking. The Zelandonii tended not to stare at such activity either. It wasn’t so much a matter of embarrassment; intimacy was commonplace and they just ignored it. He had traveled far and was aware that people’s customs could be different, but she had too; he knew that she had seen people together before—they lived in such close quarters it couldn’t be avoided. She must have seen similar activity at the Summer Meeting the year before. He wasn’t quite sure what was causing her discomfort. He was going to ask, but then he saw Levela and Jondecam returning and decided to wait until later.
Her discomfiture stemmed from her early years when she had lived with the Clan. It had been strongly stressed to her that some things, even though they could be observed, were not supposed to be seen. The stones that outlined each hearth in the cave of Brun’s clan were like invisible walls. One did not see past the boundary stones, did not look into the private areas of another man’s hearth. People averted their eyes, or assumed the far-off look of gazing into space, anything to avoid seeming to stare into the area enclosed by the stones. And as a rule they were careful not to stare inadvertently. Staring was part of the body sign language of the Clan, and had specific meanings. An intense look from a leader, for example, could be a reprimand.