by Jean M. Auel
Aldanor had loved the stories when he first heard them, especially the idea that the visitors from the sky could control horses and wolves. He thought the legend came from a traveling storyteller, who must have had an inspiration of sheer genius to come up with such an innovative story. When the cousins claimed the two legendary figures were kin, and that they were on their way to visit them, he couldn’t believe they were real. The young men got along well and when the two cousins extended the invitation, he decided to travel with them on their Journey to visit their Zelandonii kin, and see for himself. As the three young men traveled west, they heard more stories. The couple not only rode horses, but their wolf was so “fierce,” he allowed babies to crawl all over him.
When they arrived at the Zelandonii Summer Meeting and he heard the true story of Attaroa and the people of her camp from Jondalar, Aldanor was amazed that the incidents in the legends were so accurate. He had planned to go back with Danug and Druwez just to tell everyone how true they were. A woman named Ayla did exist and was living with the Zelandonii, and her mate, Jondalar, was tall and blond with surprisingly blue eyes, and if a little older, still a most handsome man. Everyone said Ayla was beautiful, too.
But he decided not to go. No one would have believed him, any more than he had believed the stories that he heard were actually true. They were supernatural fables, which had a mystical kind of truth that helped to explain things that were unknown—myths. And besides, Jondalar’s sister was a beauty in her own right, and she had captured his heart.
People had been gathering around as the stranger and Marthona talked, listening to the story Aldanor was telling.
“Why are the couple in the story called S’Ayla and S’Elandon, and not Ayla and Jondalar?” Folara asked.
“I think I can tell you that,” Ayla said. “The S sound is an honorific; it is meant to express honor, show respect. The name S’Armunai means the ‘honored people’ or the ‘special people.’ When it is used in front of a person’s name it means that person is held in great esteem.”
“Why aren’t we called ‘special people’?” Jonayla asked.
“I think we are. I think their honorific is another way of saying ‘Children of the Mother,’ which is what we call ourselves,” Marthona said. “Maybe we are related, or were long ago. It’s interesting that they could take ‘Zelandonii’ and so easily change it to mean ‘one who is honored,’ or the ‘special people.’ ”
“When they were confined to the fenced-in area,” Ayla continued, “Jondalar started showing the men and boys how to do things, like make tools. He was the one who found a way to break everyone free. On our travels, when we would meet people, he often referred to himself as ‘Jondalar of the Zelandonii.’ One boy in particular took the Zelandonii part of Jondalar’s name and started saying it ‘S’Elandon,’ giving him the honorific, because he honored and respected him so much. I think he believed that was what his name meant, ‘Jondalar the honored one.’ In the legend, they apparently gave me the honor, too.”
Marthona was satisfied, for the present. She turned to Ayla. “I am being ill mannered. I’m sorry. Please introduce me to your kin.”
“This is Danug of the Mamutoi, son of Nezzie, who is mated to Talut, the leader of the Lion Camp, and this is his cousin Druwez, son of Talut’s sister Tulie, co-leader of the Lion Camp of the Mamutoi,” Ayla began. “Danug’s mother, Nezzie, was the one who gave me my wedding outfit. You remember I told you she was going to adopt me, but then Mamut surprised everyone and adopted me instead.”
Ayla knew Marthona had been very impressed by her wedding outfit, and she also knew that as the mother of the young woman who would soon be mated, she would want to know the standing of the young men, since it was likely they would be part of the Matrimonial Ceremony.
“I know others have welcomed you here,” Marthona said, “but I want to add my greetings to theirs. I can understand how your people might miss Ayla. She would be a very worthwhile addition to any community, but if it’s any compensation, you can tell them that we truly appreciate her. She has been a very welcome member of our Cave. Though a part of her heart will always belong to the Mamutoi, she is a very cherished Zelandonii.”
“Thank you,” Danug said. As the son of the leader’s mate, he understood that this was part of the exchange of information that conveyed status and recognition of rank. “We have all missed her. My mother was very sorry when Ayla left, she was like a daughter to her, but she understood that her heart was with Jondalar. Nezzie will be very pleased to know that Ayla has found such a warm welcome among the Zelandonii, to know that her exceptional qualities are so well received.” Even though his Zelandonii was not perfect, the young man was obviously well spoken, and knew how to convey the position of his family among his people.
No one understood the value and importance of place and position better than Marthona. Ayla understood the concept of status. It had been important even to the Clan, and she was learning how the Zelandonii rated, ranked, and awarded significance to people, but she would never have the intuitive knowledge that someone like Marthona did, someone who was born into the highest position of her people.
In a society without currency, status was more than prestige, it was a form of wealth. People were eager to do favors for a person with standing because obligations always had to be repaid in kind. Debt was incurred when asking someone to make something, or to do something, or to go someplace, because of the implicit promise to return a favor of like value. No one really wanted to be in debt, but everyone was, and to have someone of high standing be in your debt gave you more status.
Many things had to be taken into account when appraising status, which was why people recited their “names and ties.” Assigning value was one, as was effort. Even if the end product was not of the same quality, if the person gave it his or her best effort, the debt could be considered satisfied, though it didn’t increase rank. Age was a factor; children up to a certain age did not accrue debts. In taking care of a child, even one’s own, a debt to the community was paid, because children were the promise of continuity.
The reaching of a certain age, becoming an elder, also made a difference. Certain favors could be asked without accruing debt and without losing status, but as a person lost the ability to contribute, he or she didn’t so much lose rank as shift position. An elder with knowledge and experience to offer could retain her status, but if she began to lose cognitive ability, she kept her position but only in name. He would still be respected for his past contributions, but his advice was no longer sought.
The system was complicated, but everyone learned its nuances the way they learned language, and by the time they reached the age of responsibility, most of them understood the fine distinctions. At any given time a person knew exactly what he owed and what was owed to him, the nature of the debts, and where she ranked within her own community.
Marthona also spoke with Druwez, whose position was equal to that of his cousin, since he was the son of Tulie, the sister of Talut and co-leader of the Lion Camp, but he tended to be more reticent. The sheer size of Danug made him more noticeable, and though shy in the beginning, he’d had to learn to be more forthcoming. A warm smile and willing conversation tended to alleviate any fears his size may have provoked.
Finally, Marthona turned to Ayla. “Where is that son of mine, who is so honored by Aldanor’s people?”
Ayla turned aside. “I don’t know,” she said, trying to keep her sudden flush of emotion in check. Then she added, “I’ve been busy with the zelandonia.”
Marthona knew immediately that something was very wrong. Ayla had been so excited about seeing Jondalar. Now she didn’t even know where he was?
“I saw Jondy walking down by The River this morning,” Jonayla said, “but I don’t know where he’s sleeping. I don’t know why he won’t sleep with us anymore. I like it better when he stays with us.”
Although her face flushed, Ayla didn’t say anything, and Marthona was certain s
omething was seriously wrong. She’d have to find out just what was going on.
“Folara, would you and Marthona watch Jonayla, or drop her off at Levela’s if you are going to the Main Camp? And take Wolf with you? I need to talk to Danug and Druwez, and maybe take them to the zelandonia lodge,” Ayla said.
“Yes, of course,” Folara said.
Ayla gave her daughter a hug. “I’ll see you this evening,” she said, then went up to the two young men and started speaking to them in Mamutoi.
“I was thinking about the talking drums and mentioned them to the First. Can either or both of you make the drums talk?” Ayla said.
“Yes,” Danug said. “We both can, but we didn’t bring any with us. Drums are not a necessary part of traveling gear when you go on a Journey.”
“How long would it take to make a couple of them? I’m sure we can get people to help you if you need it. And would you be willing to play out a verse or two? As part of the ceremony we’re planning?” Ayla said.
The two young men looked at each other, and shrugged. “If we can find the materials, they wouldn’t take long to make, maybe a day or so. It’s just rawhide stretched across a round frame, but it has to be a tight stretch so that the drum really resonates at different pitches. The frame has to be strong or it will break as the rawhide shrinks, especially if we use heat to shrink it faster,” Druwez said. “They are small drums, and you play them with your fingers, very fast.”
“I’ve seen some play them with a nicely balanced stick, but we learned to do it with the fingers,” Danug said.
“Would you be willing to do it for the ceremony?” Ayla asked.
“Of course,” they said in unison.
“Then come with me,” she said as she headed toward the Main Camp.
On the way to the large zelandonia lodge, Ayla noticed how many people actually stopped and stared at them. Though often enough she had been, this time she wasn’t the one who was the object of the gawks. It was Danug. It was rude, but in a way she couldn’t blame them, he was a striking figure of a man. On the whole, the men of the Zelandonii tended to be tall, well-built men—Jondalar himself was six feet, six inches—but Danug stood head and shoulders above everyone else, and he was well proportioned to his size. If seen alone from some distance, he would have seemed to be an ordinary muscular man; it was when he stood in the midst of others that his great size was so noticeable. It made her recall the first time she saw Talut, the man of his hearth, the only man she ever saw who was of comparable dimensions. She had probably stared then, even though except for Jondalar, Talut was one of the first people of her own kind she had seen since she was a small child. Maybe that was why she stared.
When she reached the great lodge in the center of the Camp, two young female acolytes approached them. “I wanted to make sure we had all the ingredients for that special ceremonial drink you told us about,” one of them said. “You said fermented birch sap, fruit juices scented with woodruff, and some herbs, right?”
“Yes, in particular, artemesia,” Ayla said. “Sometimes called wormwood, or absinthe.”
“I don’t think I’m familiar with that drink,” Druwez said.
“Did you stop and visit the Losadunai on your way here?” Ayla asked. “In particular, did you share a Mother Festival with them?”
“We stopped, but we didn’t stay long,” Druwez said, “and unfortunately, they did not have a Festival while we were there.”
“Solandia, the mate of the Losaduna, told me how to make it. It tastes like a pleasant-tasting mild drink, but in fact, it is a potent mixture made especially to encourage the spontaneity and warm interaction that are wanted during a festival to honor the Mother,” Ayla said. Then to the acolytes, she added, “I’ll taste it when you are done and let you know if anything is missing.”
As they turned to go, the two young women made some hand gestures to each other, and glanced back at Danug. Over the past few years, especially during Summer Meetings, Ayla had been teaching all the zelandonia some of the basic Clan signs. She thought it would help the Doniers to communicate, at least at a basic level, if they happened to meet some people of the Clan when they were traveling. Some picked it up better than others, but most of them seemed to enjoy having a silent secret method of talking that most people didn’t understand. What the two young acolytes didn’t know was that Ayla had taught Danug and Druwez the Clan signs long before when she lived with the Mamutoi.
Suddenly Danug looked at one of the young women and smiled. “Maybe you’d like to find out at the Mother Festival,” he said, then turned to Druwez, and they laughed.
Both young women blushed; then the one who had first made the signs smiled at Danug with a suggestive look. “Maybe I would,” she said. “I didn’t know you understood the talking signs.”
“Can you imagine anyone living around Ayla for very long without learning them?” Danug said, “Especially when my brother, the boy my mother adopted, was half Clan, and couldn’t speak until Ayla came and taught us all to make the signs. I remember the first time Rydag made the sign for ‘mother’ to her. She cried.”
People started milling around the ceremonial area early. The excitement in the air was tangible. The ceremony had been in stages of preparation for days and there was an incredible sense of expectation. This was going to be special, totally unique. Everyone knew it; they just didn’t know what to expect. The suspense mounted as the sun began to sink. Never had the Zelandonii at the Summer Meeting wanted the sun to set quite so much. They wished it down from the sky.
Finally, as the sun settled down below the horizon and it grew dark enough to need fire, people began to settle down, waiting for the ceremonial fires to be lit. There was a natural amphitheater in the center of this area that was sufficiently large to hold the entire Camp of some two thousand people. Behind and toward the right of the Summer Meeting Camp, the limestone hills formed the general shape of a large scooped-out shallow bowl curving around on the sides but open in front. The base of the curved slopes converged to a small, relatively level field, which had been evened out with stones and packed earth over the many years the location had been used for meetings.
In a wooded copse near the rugged crest of the hill, a spring rose that filled a small pool, then spilled down the slope of the bowl shape, through the middle of the area at the bottom, and eventually into the larger stream of the camp. The spring-fed creek was so small, especially late in summer, that people stepped over it easily, but the clear, cold pool at the top supplied convenient drinking water. The grass-covered hillside within the partial bowl depression rose up in a gradual, irregular slope. Over the years, people had dug a little here, filled in a little there, until the slope of the hill had many small flattened sections that provided comfortable places for family groups or even whole Caves to sit together with a good view of the open space below.
People sat on the grass or spread out woven mats, stuffed pads, cushions, or furs on the ground. Fires were lit, mostly torches stuck into the ground, but also some small firepits encircling the entire gathering around the stage-like area, and one larger bonfire near the front and center of it; then several fires were lit throughout the area where people were sitting. Shortly afterward, quietly, the distinctive sound of young voices singing could be heard in the background of the conversation. People started shushing each other to hear the singing better. Then a parade of most of the youngsters of the entire Camp walked toward the central area singing a rhythmic song using the counting words. By the time they reached it, everyone else had stopped talking, although there were smiles and winks.
Beginning with the singing children had two purposes. The first was to let them show their elders what they were learning from the zelandonia. The second was a tacit understanding that a Mother Festival would take place along with the feasting and general revelry. When they were finished with their part, the children would be taken to one of the camps near the edge of the gathering where there would be games and their own feas
t separate from the adults, watched over by several Zelandonia and others, often older women and men, or new mothers who were not yet ready to participate, or women who had just begun their moontime, or those who just didn’t feel like indulging in activities to honor the Mother at that time.
While most people looked forward to Mother Festivals, it was always voluntary, and it was easier for most people to participate if they knew they didn’t have to worry about their children for an evening. The children were not prevented from going if they wanted to, and some of the older ones did, just to satisfy their curiosity, but watching adults talk, laugh, eat, drink, dance, and couple was not all that interesting if they weren’t really ready for it and it wasn’t forbidden. The close quarters in which they lived meant that children observed all adult activities all the time, from childbirth to death. No one made an issue of keeping them away; it was all a part of life.
When the children were done, most were led into the audience. Next, two men dressed as bison bulls with their heavy horned heads started at opposite sides and ran toward each other, slipping past but just barely missing each other, which captured people’s attention. Then several people, including some children, dressed in the hides and horns of aurochs, started milling around like a herd. Some of the animal skins were hunting camouflages, some made just for this occasion. A lion came out, snarling and grunting, in a skin and tail, then attacked the cows with a roar so authentic, it made some people flinch.
“That was Ayla,” Folara whispered to Aldanor. “No one can do a lion roar as well as she can.”
The herd scattered, jumping over things and almost running into people. The lion chased after them. Then five people came out dressed in deer hides and holding antlers on their heads, and portrayed them jumping into a river as though running away from something, and swimming across. Horses were next, one of them whinnying so realistically, it got an answering whinny from a distance.