by Jean M. Auel
“You have traveled far, have belonged to many people, but your feet have always led you along the path the Great Earth Mother chose for you. It was your fate to lose your people at an early age, and then be taken in by a healer and a man who traveled the spirit world of those people you call the Clan. When you were adopted by the Mamut of the Mamutoi to the Mammoth Hearth that honors the Mother, your way was guided by She Who Gave Birth to All. Your destiny has always been to Serve Her.
“Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave, son of Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii; Mother of Jonayla, Blessed of Doni, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, who was born to the hearth of Jondalar; Ayla of the Mamutoi, member of the Lion Camp of the mammoth hunting people to the east, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, the zelandonia of the Mamutoi; Ayla, chosen by the Spirit of the Cave Lion and Protected by the Cave Bear of the Clan, your names and ties are many. Now they are no longer needed. Your new name means all of them, and more. Your name is one with all of Her creation. Your name is Zelandoni!”
“Your name is one with all of Her creation. Welcome Zelandoni!” the assembled group said in unison.
“Come, join with us in the Mother’s Song, Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave,” said the One Who Was First, and the group began entirely in unison.
Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,
The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime …
When they reached the verse that had always been the last, only the One Who Was First continued in her beautiful rich voice:
The Mother was pleased with the pair She created,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated.
She made them desire to join with each other,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.
Before She was through, Her children loved too.
The whole group sang the last line; then they all looked expectantly at Ayla. It took her a moment to comprehend; then in a strong voice with an exotic accent, Ayla didn’t sing, but spoke alone.
Her last Gift, the Knowledge that man has his part.
His need must be spent before new life can start.
It honors the Mother when the couple is paired,
Because woman conceives when Pleasures are shared.
Earth’s Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.
The group finished the final line, and stood silently for a while; then they broke up and relaxed. A large container of tea was brought out, and each one took out individual cups from pouches and pockets.
“The question now is, how do we tell the rest of the Zelandonii about the last Gift?” said the One Who Was First, as she casually sat on her stool.
The question brought an uproar. “Tell them!” “We can’t tell them!” “It would be too much for them.” “Think how much it would upset everything.”
The First waited until the disturbance settled down; then she looked at the assembled zelandonia with a fierce glare. “Do you think Doni made this known so you could withhold it from Her Children? Do you think Ayla suffered those agonies, or that she was required to sacrifice her baby just so the zelandonia would have something to argue about? The zelandonia are Those Who Serve The Mother. It is not for us to say whether or not Her children may know. It is our task to decide how to tell them.”
There was contrite silence; then the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said, “It will take time to plan an appropriate ceremony. Perhaps we should wait until next year. This season is almost over. Everyone will be going back soon.”
“Yes,” the Zelandoni of the Third quickly agreed. “Perhaps the best way would be to let each zelandoni tell his own Cave, in his own way, after he’s had some time to think about it.”
“The ceremony will be held three days from now and Ayla will tell them,” the First announced unequivocally. “It was Ayla who was given the Gift. It is her place, her duty to tell the rest. She was called this season, and sent to this Summer Meeting for that reason.” The First glared at her fellow Doniers; then her expression softened, and her tone became cajoling. “Wouldn’t it be better to get it over with now? With the season so close to the end, there won’t be time for too many difficulties to arise before we leave—and you can be sure there will be difficulties—but this way we will have all winter to get our own Caves used to the idea. By next season there shouldn’t be any reason for problems.”
The First wished she really believed that. Unlike the rest of the zelandonia, the First had thought about a man’s contribution to creating new life for many years, even before her first conversation with Ayla. The fact that Ayla had come to her own similar conclusions was one of the reasons the woman had wanted her to become Zelandoni. Her observations were too perceptive, and she wasn’t restricted by Zelandonii beliefs fed to her with mother’s milk.
That was why Zelandoni had decided as soon as she heard Ayla tell about her experience in the cave, that the idea must be made known immediately, when everyone was still together. And while the zelandonia were still bewildered by it. She would have set the ceremony for the next day if she had thought it was possible to arrange it.
As she often did under the guise of resting or meditating, and seeming to ignore her surroundings, the woman waited and watched for a while as the zelandonia began to make plans. At first they were tentative.
She heard the Eleventh say, “Maybe a good approach might be to try to duplicate Ayla’s own experience.”
“We don’t have to show her entire experience, just the essence of it,” said the Twenty-third.
“If we had a cave large enough to hold everyone, it would help,” the Zelandoni of the Second Cave said.
“We’ll have to let the darkness of night act as the walls of a cave,” the Fifth said. “If we have just one fire in the middle, it will help to concentrate everyone’s attention.”
Good, the First thought, listening to the Doniers speaking among themselves. They are starting to think of how to plan the ceremony rather than thinking of objections to it.
“We should have drums for the Mother’s Song.”
“And singing.”
“The Ninth doesn’t sing.”
“Her voice is so distinctive, it doesn’t matter.”
“We can have singing in the background. Without words, just the sound.”
“If we slow the cadence of the drums, the Mother’s Song will have a greater impact, especially at the end when she speaks the last verse.”
Ayla seemed at a loss with all the attention as more suggestions were made for her part, but after a while even she seemed to be getting involved with the arrangements. “The visitors from the Mamutoi, the two young men, Danug and Druwez, they know how to play drums so that they actually sound like a voice speaking. It’s uncanny, but very mysterious. I think they could make the drums speak the final verse, if they brought their drums, or can find something similar.”
“I would like to hear it first,” said the Fourteenth.
“Of course,” Ayla said.
More than she realized, Ayla was incredibly wise in the ways of people, and much more sophisticated and knowledgeable than she knew. The tactics of the Zelandoni Who Was First in pushing the zelandonia into creating the ceremony were not lost on Ayla. On a sometimes subliminal and sometimes fully aware level, she had watched the First mold the rest to her will. The woman was quick to press her advantage, knew when to bluster, when to threaten, when to cajole, wheedle, criticize, praise—and the zelandonia were not easily led. As a group they were clever, shrewd, often cynical, and on the whole more intelligent than most. Ayla remembered Jondalar asking Zelandoni once what made a Zelandoni First. Even then, she knew just how much to say, just how much to hold back.
Zelandoni relaxed. They were into it now. It would gain momentum of its own accord. Her problem most of the time was to keep them from getting too carried away. This time she was going to let them take on just as much as they wanted. The more spectac
ular, the better. If I let them plan it big enough, and elaborate enough, they won’t have time to think about anything else until after the ceremony.
When the general outline for the ceremony had begun to take shape, and most of the zelandonia were developing a decided interest in the event, Zelandoni Who Was First hurled another surprise at them.
Getting up to get more tea, she made an ostensibly offhand comment. “I imagine we’ll also have to make plans for a Camp Meeting a day or so after the ceremony to answer questions that are bound to come up. We might as well get them out of the way all at once. That’s when we can announce the name for the relationship between a man and his children, and tell them that the men will name the boys from now on,” she said.
The consternation of the zelandonia was immediate. Most hadn’t had time to think about what changes the new knowledge was going to make.
“But a mother has always named her own children!” one of them said.
Zelandoni caught a few sharp looks. That’s what she had been afraid of; some of them were going to start thinking. As a group, it was not wise to underestimate the zelandonia.
“How are the men going to realize that they are essential if we don’t let them take some part?” the First asked. “It doesn’t really change anything. Coupling will still be a Pleasure. Men are not going to start giving birth, and a man will still need to provide for the woman he has taken to his hearth and her children, especially while she is confined close to home and with small children. Naming a male child is a small thing; women will still name the females,” the woman cajoled.
“In the Clan the mog-urs named all the children,” Ayla mentioned. Everyone stopped and looked at her. “I was very pleased to be able to name my daughter. I was nervous about it, but it was very exciting, and it made me feel very important.”
“I think the men would feel the same way,” the First said, grateful for Ayla’s unplanned support.
There were nods and grunts of approval. No one brought up any further objections, at least for the moment.
“What about the name of the relationship? Have you a name for it already?” the Zelandoni from the Twenty-ninth Cave asked, with a hint of suspicion.
“I thought I would meditate and see if I could think of something appropriate for children to call the men who shared in giving them life, to distinguish them from other men. Perhaps we should all think about it,” the One Who Was First said.
The First had felt that she had to push them now, while the zelandonia were still overwhelmed, and at a disadvantage relative to herself, before they began to think about the possible consequences, and come up with some real objections that she couldn’t confound with bluster. She had no doubt that this new Gift of the Knowledge of Life would have more profound repercussions than even she could imagine. It would change everything, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she liked some of the very real possibilities that might develop.
The Zelandoni Who Was First was a keenly observant, intelligent woman. She had never had a child of her own, but in her case that was an advantage; she never had the distractions that children invariably entailed. But she had been midwife at more births than she cared to count, and had helped many women through miscarriages. As a result the First had more knowledge of the developmental stages of unborn fetuses than any mother.
The Doniers were also instrumental in helping some women end their pregnancies before full term. The most precarious time in the lives of infants was the first two years. Many children died then. Even with the help of mates, elder parents, or other extended family members, most mothers could not nurse and care for too many young children at one time if any were to survive.
Although nursing a baby, in itself, seemed to be a deterrent to starting another, it was sometimes necessary to terminate an unanticipated pregnancy if those who were already born were to live past infancy. Or if a woman was seriously ill, or had children who were nearly grown and was too old, or had had one or more harrowing deliveries in the past that had brought her close to death, and another pregnancy could deprive existing children of their mother. The mortality rate of children would have been appreciably higher if they did not practice such selective controls as were available to them. There might be other reasons, as well, for a woman to end her pregnancy.
And while the cause of pregnancy was not innately apparent, women did know that they were pregnant fairly soon. At some earlier time a woman, or women, had discovered how to know that a child was growing inside of her, before it was obvious. Perhaps she noticed that it had been some time since she had bled and she had learned that that could be a sign, or if she had been pregnant before, she might recognize certain symptoms. The knowledge had been passed down until all women learned it as part of their initiation into adulthood.
In the beginning, when a woman realized she was carrying a child, she might look back and try to think about what had caused it. Was it a certain food she ate? A special pool she had bathed in? A specific man she’d had relations with? A particular river she had crossed? A unique tree in whose shade she had slept?
If a woman wanted to have a baby, she might try repeating some or all of those activities, perhaps making it into a ritual. But she would learn that she could do any of those things any number of times and still not necessarily become pregnant. She then might wonder if it was a combination of actions, or the order in which they were done, or the time of day, or the cycle, or season, or year. Maybe just a strong desire to have a baby, or the concerted wishes of several people. Or perhaps it was unknown agents, emanations from rocks, or spirits from another world, or the Great Mother, the first Mother.
If she lived in a society that had developed a set of explanations that seemed reasonable, or even unreasonable, but that seemed to answer questions that were not accessible to her own observations, it would be easy to accept them if everyone else did.
But someone might be observant enough to begin to make connections and draw inferences that were close to the truth. Because of a unique set of circumstances, Ayla had come to such conclusions, though she’d had to overcome the strong urge to believe what others believed instead of her own observations and reasoning.
Even before talking to Ayla, the One Who Was First had also begun to suspect the true cause of conception. Ayla’s belief, and explanation, was the final piece of information she needed to persuade herself, and she had felt for some time that people, women in particular, should know how new life was started.
Knowledge was power. If a woman knew what caused a baby to begin growing inside her, she could gain control over her own life. Instead of simply finding herself pregnant, whether she wanted a baby or not, whether the timing was right for her to have one, whether she was well enough, or had enough children already, she had a choice. If it was relations with a man that somehow caused the pregnancy, not something external and out of her hands, she could decide not to have a baby simply by choosing not to share Pleasures with a man. Of course, it wouldn’t necessarily be easy for a woman to make that choice, and Zelandoni wasn’t at all sure how the men would react.
Though there would likely be unknown repercussions, there was another reason that she wanted her people to know that children were the result of the union of women and men. The strongest reason of all: because it was true. And men needed to know it too. Men had been considered incidental to the process of procreation for too long. It was only right that men know that they were essential to the creation of life.
And Zelandoni believed the people were ready for it, more than ready. Ayla had already told Jondalar what she believed, and he was nearly convinced. More, he wanted to believe. This was the right time. If Zelandoni herself had guessed it and if Ayla could work it out, so could others. The First hoped that the consequences of telling everyone would not be too devastating, but if the zelandonia didn’t tell them now, it was bound to come from someone else before long.
As soon as she heard Ayla recite the new final verse to the Mother’s Song,
Zelandoni knew the truth had to be revealed now. But to be accepted, it could not be divulged casually or piecemeal. It needed dramatic impact. The One Who Was First was clever enough to understand that most of what happened to acolytes in the course of being “called” to serve the Mother was the products of their own minds. A few of the older zelandonia had become entirely cynical about the whole process, but there were always inexplicable events that were caused by unknown or unseen forces.
It was those events that revealed a true calling, and when Ayla talked about her experience in the cave, the First had never heard a truer calling. In particular, that final verse of the Mother’s Song. Though Ayla’s instinct for language and ability to memorize were phenomenal, and she had become a skillful and compelling teller of stories and speaker of Legends, she had never before displayed an ability to create verse, and she had said it filled her head, that she heard it complete. If she could explain it to the people with the same conviction, she would be very persuasive.
When it seemed to the First that everything was in motion and could not be stopped, she finally announced, “It’s getting late. This has been a long meeting. I think we should go now and meet again tomorrow morning.”
“I promised Jonayla I would go riding with her today,” Ayla was explaining, “but the meeting took so long.”
No wonder, Proleva thought to herself, eyeing the black marks on Ayla’s forehead, but she refrained from saying anything. “Jondalar heard her talking to me about going out on the horses with you, wondering where you were and what was taking so long. Dalanar tried to explain to her that you were at a very important meeting, and no one knew how long you would be; then Jondalar offered to take her out.”
“I’m glad he did,” Ayla said. “I hated to disappoint her. Have they been gone long?”