by Jean M. Auel
“Not with Aldanor. All three of those young men accepted him as easily as anyone else. They didn’t make him an exception, or make special efforts to be nice to him. They just treated him like any other young man. It made Echozar realize, I think, that not everyone would hate him, or object to him. He could make friends, and so could Bokovan. In fact, that young couple that mated the same time you did, Jondecam and Levela? They have all but adopted Bokovan. He’s over there all the time, playing with their youngsters, and all the rest of the children that always seem to be running around their camp. I wonder sometimes how they put up with having so many children there all the time,” Dalanar said.
“Levela has no end of patience,” Ayla said. “I think she loves it.” She turned to Danug. “You will go with us back to the Ninth Cave, won’t you? We haven’t even started catching up on what everyone in the Lion Camp is doing.”
“We were rather hoping to winter with you. I’d like to go all the way to the Great Waters of the West before I return. Besides, I don’t think there is any way we’re going to get Aldanor away from here before spring, and maybe not then,” Danug said, smiling at his friend.
Ayla looked at him questioningly. “Why not?”
“When you see him around Jondalar’s sister, you’ll know.”
“Folara?”
“Yes, Folara. He is absolutely smitten with her. Completely, totally, out of his mind over her, and I think the feeling may be mutual. At least she certainly doesn’t seem to mind spending time with him. A lot of time with him.” Though Danug had spoken Mamutoi, he was grinning. His language was similar, and he had learned quite a bit of Mamutoi on their Journey, and her name was the same word in any language. Ayla saw Aldanor’s face flush. She raised her eyebrows and then smiled.
The tall, graceful young woman who Folara had become easily commanded attention everywhere she went. She had her mother’s natural elegance and Willamar’s easy charm, and as Jondalar had always predicted she would be, Folara was beautiful. Her beauty was not quite the consummate manifestation of perfection that Jondalar had been in his youth—and for the most part still was. Her mouth was a little too generous, her eyes were spaced a bit too wide, her light brown hair was a touch too fine, but the minor imperfections only made her more approachable and appealing.
Folara had had no lack of suitors, but none had quite excited her fancy, or fulfilled her unexpressed expectations. Her lack of interest in choosing a mate was driving her mother to distraction; she wanted to see a grandchild from her own daughter. After spending so much time with the woman, she had grown to understand her better, and knew that Folara’s regard for the young S’Armunai would be of great consequence to Marthona. The biggest question was would Aldanor decide to stay with the Zelandonii, or would Folara go with him back to the S’Armunai? Marthona needs to be here, Ayla thought.
“Willamar, have you noticed Folara’s interest in this young S’Armunai?” Ayla asked, smiling at the self-consciously blushing visitor.
“Now that you mention it, I guess they have spent a lot of time together since I’ve been here,”
“You know Marthona, Willamar. You know she would want to be here if Folara is getting serious about a young man, especially one who may want her to go with him back to his home. I’m sure she would come here if she could.”
“You’re right, Ayla, but is she strong enough?”
“You said something about carrying her on a litter, Dalanar. How long do you think it would take for a few strong young men to run back to the Ninth Cave and bring her here?”
“No more than a few days for good runners, maybe twice that to bring her back, and however long it would take her to prepare. Do you really think she’s well enough?” Dalanar said.
“Would Jerika be well enough if it was Joplaya?” Ayla asked.
Dalanar nodded with understanding.
“Marthona seemed much better when I left, and if she doesn’t have to exert herself, I think she would be as well here, where there are so many people to help her, as she is at the Ninth Cave. She likes the horses, to watch them or pat them, and I think under the circumstances, she’d even ride the pole-drag to get here, but I believe she’d be more comfortable sitting up on a litter and able to talk to people along the way. I’d ask Jondalar, but he doesn’t seem to be around anywhere. Could you and Dalanar, and maybe Joharran, arrange it, Willamar?”
“I think we could do that, Ayla. You’re probably right. Folara’s mother needs to be here if she is getting serious about mating, especially to a foreigner.”
“Mother! Mother! You came! You finally came,” a young voice called out. It was an interruption Ayla was delighted to hear. She turned and smiled, and her eyes lit up as she held out her arms to the young girl running toward her, with the wolf happily loping beside her. Her daughter fairly flew into her arms.
“I missed you so much,” Ayla said, hugging her close; then she pulled back to look at her and hugged her again. “I can’t believe how much you have grown, Jonayla!” she said when she put her down.
Zelandoni had followed the child back, at a slower pace, but smiled warmly at Ayla as she approached. After they had embraced in greeting she asked, “You finished your watching?”
“Yes, and glad of it, but it was exciting to see the sun stop and turn back, and mark it myself. The only problem was not having anyone there to share it with who really understood. I kept thinking of you,” Ayla said.
Zelandoni observed the young woman closely. There was a different air about her; Ayla had changed. The woman tried to find it. Ayla has lost weight—has she been sick? She should be starting to show, but her waistline is thinner and her breasts are smaller. O, Doni, she thought. She isn’t pregnant anymore! She must have miscarried.
But there was something else, a new assurance in her manner, an acceptance of the tragedy, a self-confident poise. She knew who she was—and who she was, was Zelandoni! She has been “called”! She must have lost the baby, then.
“We’re going to have to talk, aren’t we, Ayla?” Zelandoni Who Was First said, stressing her name. She could be called Ayla, but she wasn’t Ayla anymore.
“Yes,” the young woman said. She didn’t have to say more. She knew that the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Mother understood.
“We should do it soon.”
“Yes, we should.”
“And, Ayla, I am sorry. I know you wanted the baby,” she said quietly. Before Ayla could respond, more people crowded around.
Nearly all her close friends and kin came to the camp to greet her. Everyone seemed to be there except Jondalar, and no one seemed to know where he was. Usually when a person was leaving the Meeting Camp to go off by themselves or with just one or two others, someone was told where they were going. Ayla might have begun to worry, but no one else seemed to. Most people stayed to have a meal or a snack. They recounted events that had taken place, talked about people, who was getting mated, who’d had another child or was expecting one, who had decided to sever the knot, or take a second mate—friendly gossip.
In the afternoon, people started wandering off to other activities. Ayla arranged her sleeping roll and the rest of the belongings that she had brought with her. She was glad she had taken the horses to the meadow in the woods earlier, and the corral that had been fenced for the horses, not so much to keep them in as to keep people out. Horses in a meadow were fair game under normal circumstances. Though everyone knew about the horses the Ninth Cave brought with them, just to leave no doubt that these were in fact those special horses, the area was conspicuously fenced. Jondalar and Jonayla often took them to the grassy steppes, to ride, or just to let them graze, but whenever they were not in the enclosure, she knew someone was with them.
Jonayla left with Zelandoni and Wolf to go back to the area of the zelandonia to finish working out the details of the special evening that was planned. Ayla decided to give Whinney a good grooming after the hot, dusty ride, and went to the horse meadow with soft p
ieces of leather and teasel brushes. She brushed Racer and Gray a bit, too, just to give them a scratching and some attention.
She looked at the small stream that flowed along the edge of the grassy glen before emptying into The River, and remembered the last time the Meeting was in this location. There was a swimming hole some distance upstream, she recalled. Not many people knew about it because it was far enough away from the Meeting Camp to make it inconvenient for general use. She hadn’t known her adopted people as well then, and she and Jondalar used to go there when they wanted to get away from the crowds and spend some time alone together.
A swim would feel good right now, she thought, and the river is muddy from so much use. She started walking upstream toward the bend in the small stream that cut a deeper hole near the outside edge and left a grassy strand with a beach of small pebbles on the inside curve. She smiled thinking about Jondalar and what they used to do beside that stream. She’d been thinking about him so much, thinking about how he could make her feel. She felt herself warming to his imagined touch, and even noticed a wetness between her legs. Wouldn’t it be fun to try to make another baby? she thought.
As she approached the swimming hole, she heard splashing, and then voices, and almost turned back. Sounds like someone else has found this place, she thought. I’d hate to disturb another couple looking for a place to be alone. But it might not be a couple. It might just be some people going for a swim. As she approached, she heard a woman’s voice, and then a man’s. She couldn’t make out the words, but something about that voice bothered her.
She moved as silently as she ever had when stalking an animal with her sling. She heard more talking, then a deep laugh of sheer abandon. She knew that laugh, though she hadn’t heard it much recently, and it was rare enough in any case. Then she heard the woman’s voice, and recognized it. She had a peculiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked through the bushes that skirted the small beach.
32
Jondalar and Marona were just coming out of the water as Ayla looked through the bushes. With a stab of anguish, she watched Marona turn to face Jondalar, put her arms around him and press her naked body close to his, then reach up to kiss him. Jondalar bent down to meet her lips. With fascinated horror, she watched his hands begin to caress her body. How many times had she felt his knowing hands?
Ayla wanted to run, but she couldn’t move. They moved a few steps closer, toward a soft leather hide spread out on the grass just in front of her. She could see that he wasn’t really aroused. But no one had seen him since she arrived, he’d been gone all day, and it was obvious to her that they had already used the leather blanket, at least once. Marona pressed against him again, kissed him deeply, as though with great hunger, then slowly dropped down in front of him. With a languid, knowing laugh, Marona enclosed her mouth around his flaccid manhood while Jondalar stood looking down at her.
Ayla could see his mounting excitement in his expression of intense pleasure. She had never seen his face when she did that to him—was that how he looked? As Marona moved rhythmically back and forth, his tumescent organ pushed her farther away from him as it began to extend.
It was an agony for Ayla to see him with her. She could hardly breathe, her stomach knotted in pain, her head pounded. She had never experienced this kind of feeling before. Was this anguish jealousy? Was this how Jondalar felt when I went to Ranec’s bed? she thought. Why didn’t he tell me? I didn’t know then, I never felt jealousy before, and he never told me. He only said it was my right to choose who I wanted.
That means it’s his right to be there with Marona!
Her eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t stand it, she had to get away. She turned and started to run blindly through the small woods, but she tripped on an exposed root and crashed to the ground.
“Who’s there? What’s going on?” Ayla heard Jondalar’s voice call out. She scrambled to her feet and started off again as Jondalar pushed the brush aside. “Ayla? Ayla!” he said in shocked surprise. “What are you doing here?”
She turned to face the man who was coming after her. “I didn’t mean to interfere,” she said, trying to compose herself. “You have the right to couple with whoever you want, Jondalar. Even Marona.”
Marona pushed through the screen of bushes and stood close to Jondalar, pressing her body against him. “That’s right, Ayla,” she said with an exultant laugh. “He can couple with whoever he wants. What do you expect a man to do when his mate is too busy for him? We have coupled often, and not only this summer. Why do you think I moved back to the Ninth Cave? He didn’t want me to tell you, but now that you’ve found out, you might as well know the whole story.” She laughed again; then with a vicious sneer she said, “You may have stolen him from me, Ayla, but you haven’t been able to keep him to yourself.”
“I didn’t steal him from you, Marona. I didn’t even know you until I arrived here. Jondalar chose me of his own free will. Now he can choose you, if he wants, but tell me, do you really love him? Or are you just trying to cause trouble?” Ayla said. Then she turned and with as much dignity as she could gather, she hurried away.
Jondalar shrugged off the woman hanging on him and caught up with Ayla in a few strides. “Ayla, please wait! Let me explain!” he said.
“What is there to explain? Marona is right. How could I expect anything else? You were in the middle of something, Jondalar. Why don’t you go back and finish it,” she said, starting away again. “I’m sure Marona will be able to arouse you once more. She had you well on your way.”
“I don’t want Marona, not if I can have you, Ayla,” Jondalar said, suddenly afraid he might lose her.
Marona looked at him with surprise. She meant nothing to him, she realized. She had meant nothing to him all along. She had made herself available, and he had found her an expedient way to take care of his urges. Marona glared at them both with anger, but Jondalar didn’t notice.
He was concentrated on Ayla. Now he wished he hadn’t given in to Marona’s invitations, hadn’t used her so casually. He was so intent on Ayla, on trying to think of something to say that could somehow explain how he felt, that he didn’t even notice when the woman he had so recently been with stormed past him with her clothes bunched up in her arms. But Ayla did.
As a man, after he returned from his stay with Dalanar, Jondalar had always had his choice of women, but he had never really loved one. Nothing ever matched the powerful intensity of his first love, and his memory of those overwhelming emotions had been made stronger by the appalling scandal and disgrace it had brought on both Zolena and himself. She had been his donii-woman, his instructor and guide in the ways that a man should behave with a woman, but he was not supposed to fall in love with her. She was not supposed to allow it.
He had come to believe that he would never love a woman again. He had finally concluded that as a penalty imposed by the Mother for his youthful indiscretion, he would forever be unable to fall in love—until Ayla. And he’d had to travel for more than a year, to an entirely different and unfamiliar place, to find her. He loved Ayla more than his life. It overwhelmed him. He would do anything for her, go anyplace for her, he would give his life for her. The only person for whom he felt a love as strong, if of a different nature, was Jonayla.
“You should be grateful she is there to satisfy your needs, Jondalar,” Ayla said, still hurting, and trying to cover the pain. “I am going to be even busier than ever now. I have been called. I will do as She wishes now. I will be as a child of the Great Earth Mother. I am Zelandoni.”
“You were called? Ayla, when?” His voice was full of frantic worry. He’d seen some of the zelandonia returning from their first call, and he’d seen some, found later, who had not. “I should have been there, I could have helped you.”
“No, Jondalar. You couldn’t have helped me. No one can help. It must be done alone. I survived, and the Mother gave me a great Gift, but I had to make a sacrifice for it. She wanted our baby, Jondala
r. I lost it in the cave,” Ayla said with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Our baby? What baby? Jonayla was with me.”
“The baby that was started when I came down from the cliff early one night. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that you hadn’t already been with Marona that night, or I wouldn’t have had a baby to sacrifice,” she said with hollow bitterness.
“You were pregnant when you were called? Oh, Great Mother!” He was feeling panicky—he didn’t want her to leave like that. What could he say to keep her there, to keep her talking? “Ayla, I know you think that’s how new life starts, but you can’t be sure.”
“Yes, Jondalar, I can. The Great Mother told me. That was the Gift I received in exchange for my baby’s life.” She said it with such haunting, painful certainty, it left no room for doubt. “I thought we might try to start another, but I can see you are too busy for me.” He stood there, stunned, as she walked away.
“O Doni, Great Mother, what have I done?” Jondalar cried out in anguish. “I’ve made her stop loving me. Oh, why did she have to see us?”
He stumbled after her, forgetting his clothes. Then, as she hurried away, he dropped to his knees, and followed her with only his eyes. Look at her, he thought, she’s so thin! It must have been so hard for her. Some acolytes die. What if Ayla had died? I wasn’t even there to help her. Why didn’t I stay behind with her? I should have known she was almost ready, her training was nearly over, but I wanted to come to the Summer Meeting. I didn’t think what might happen to her. All I could think of was myself.
As Ayla was lost to sight, he hunched forward, closed his eyes, and buried his face in his hands, as though trying not to see what he had done.
“Why did I couple with Marona?” he moaned aloud. Ayla has never coupled with anyone but me, he thought, not since Ranec, not since we left the Mamutoi. Even at ceremonies and festivals to honor the Mother, when almost everyone chooses someone else, she has never chosen anyone but me. People talk about it. How many men have looked at me with envy, thinking what great Pleasure I must give her, for her never to choose anyone else.