by Jean M. Auel
“That’s no compensation for me,” Laramar said. “What do I care what kind of dwelling she lives in? She’ll just turn it into a filthy mess anyway.”
“You don’t care about where your children live, Laramar?” the First asked.
“My children? They’re not mine, not if what you say is true. If coupling is the way they start, I didn’t start any of them … except maybe the first. I haven’t coupled, much less had any ‘Pleasures’ with her in years. Believe me, she’s no Pleasure. I don’t know where those children came from, maybe Mother Festivals—give a man enough to drink and even she might look good—but whoever started them, it wasn’t me. The only thing that woman is good for is drinking my barma,” Laramar sneered.
“That is certainly true. Lanoga has taken care of her siblings more than her mother and now Lanidar is helping. But they are too young to take on so much responsibility,” Proleva said from the audience.
“Laramar, they are still the children of your hearth. It is your responsibility to provide for them,” the One Who Was First said. “You cannot just decide you don’t want them.”
“Why not? I don’t want them. They never meant anything to me. She doesn’t even care about them. Why should I?”
The leader of the Fifth Cave was looking just as horrified as everyone else at Laramar’s callous denunciation of the children of his hearth, and in the audience, Proleva whispered, “I told you he was no shiny piece of amber.”
“Then who do you expect to take care of the children of your hearth, Laramar?” Zelandoni said.
The man stopped and frowned. “For all I care, Jondalar can. There’s nothing he can give me that I want. He can’t give me back my face, and I can’t have the satisfaction of giving him what he gave me. He’s so eager to take care of things, to make amends, let him take care of that lazy, loud-mouthed, manipulating shrew and her brood,” Laramar said.
“He may owe you a lot, Laramar, but that’s too much to ask of a man who has a family of his own, to take on the responsibility of a family the size of yours,” Joharran said.
“Never mind, Joharran. I’ll do it,” Jondalar said. “If that’s what he wants, I’ll do it. If he isn’t going to take responsibility for his own hearth, someone has to. Those children need someone to care about them.”
“Don’t you think you should talk to Ayla about it first?” Proleva said from the audience. “That much responsibility will take away from her own family.” Not that they don’t already take more care of that family than either Laramar or Tremeda, the woman thought, but didn’t say aloud.
“No, Proleva. He’s right,” Ayla said. “I’m responsible, too, for what Jondalar did to Laramar. I didn’t realize what it would come to, but I’m just as much at fault. If taking on the responsibility for his family will satisfy Laramar, then we should do it.”
“Well, Laramar, is that what you want?” the First said.
“Yeah, if it will keep the rest of you off me, why not?” Laramar said, then he laughed. “You’re welcome to her, Jondalar.”
“What about you, Tremeda? Is that satisfactory to you?” Zelandoni said.
“Will he build me a new dwelling, like the one he’s making for her?” she asked, pointing at Ayla.
“Yes, I will make sure you have a new dwelling,” Jondalar said. “Do you want it made at the Ninth Cave or the Fifth?”
“Well, if I’m going to be your second woman, Jondalar,” she said, trying to be coy, “I might as well stay at the Ninth. That’s my home, anyway.”
“Hear me, Tremeda,” Jondalar said, looking directly at her. “I am not taking you as a second woman. I said I would assume the responsibility to provide for you and your children. I said I would build you a dwelling. That is the full extent of my obligation to you. I am doing this as reparation for the injury I did to your mate. In no way are you anything close to a second woman to me, Tremeda! Is that understood?”
Laramar laughed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Jondalar. I told you she was a manipulating shrew. She’ll use you any way she can.” He laughed again. “You know, maybe this isn’t going to be so bad. It just might give me some satisfaction to see you have to put up with her.”
“Are you sure you want to go swimming there, Ayla?” Jondalar asked.
“It was our place before you took Marona there, and it’s still the best place to swim, especially now when the river is so stirred up and muddy downstream. I haven’t had the chance for a good swim since I arrived, and we’ll be leaving soon,” Ayla said.
“But are you sure you’re strong enough to swim?”
“Yes, I am sure, but don’t worry. I plan to spend most of the time lying on the bank in the sun. All I want is to get out of this lodge and spend some time with you away from people for a while, now that I finally got Zelandoni to agree that I’m well enough,” Ayla said. “I was getting ready to get on Whinney and go someplace anyway before too long. I know she’s concerned, but I’m fine. I just need to get out and move around.”
Zelandoni had blamed herself for not paying close enough attention to Ayla and was being—rather uncharacteristically—overprotective. She felt more than a little responsible for the fact that they had almost lost the young woman, and she wasn’t going to let that happen again. Jondalar was in full agreement, and for a while Ayla enjoyed their unaccustomed close attention, but as she gained her strength back, she began to find such doting concern vexing. Ayla had been trying to convince the Donier that she was completely rested and strong enough to ride and swim again, but it wasn’t until the First wanted Wolf out of the way for a while that she finally agreed.
Jonayla and the youngsters her age were again involved with the zelandonia in preparations for a small part they would play in the farewell ceremonies that were being planned to close the Summer Meeting. Wolf was not only a distraction when all the children were together, making it hard for them to concentrate, but it was difficult for Jonayla to both control him and learn what she was supposed to do. When Zelandoni had intimated to Ayla that, while the wolf was certainly welcome, perhaps she could keep the animal with her, it had been the edge Ayla needed to persuade the Donier that she ought to take Wolf, and the horses, away from the Campsite for some exercise.
Ayla was anxious to leave as early as possible the next morning before Zelandoni changed her mind. Jondalar had watered and brushed the horses before the morning meal, and when he tied riding blankets on Whinney and Racer, and fitted halters on Racer and Gray, they knew they were going out, and pranced with anticipation. Though they didn’t plan to ride her, Ayla didn’t want to leave the young mare alone. She was sure Gray would be lonely if she were left behind; horses liked companionship, especially of their own kind, and Gray needed the exercise, too.
The wolf looked up with expectation when Jondalar picked up a pair of pack baskets made to hang across the back of a horse. The carriers were full of various implements and mysterious packages wrapped in pieces of the pale brown material woven from flax fibers that Ayla had made as training samplers, to pass the time while she was recovering. Marthona had arranged to have a small loom made and was teaching her to weave. One of the baskets was covered by a leather hide to spread out on the ground, and the other by the soft yellowish toweling skins that had been gifts of the Sharamudoi.
Wolf bounded on ahead when the man signaled that he could go with them as they left the lodge. Near the horse enclosure, Ayla stopped to pick a few ripe berries hanging from red-stemmed bushes. She brushed the round, powdery blue fruit against her tunic, noticed the deeper blue skin, then popped it in her mouth and, smiling with satisfaction, savored the sweet, juicy taste. As she climbed up on a stump to mount Whinney, she felt good just being outside, knowing she didn’t have to go back in the lodge right away. She was sure she knew every crack that cut through every painted or carved design on the sturdy wooden poles that supported the roof thatch, every smudge of soot that blackened the edges of the smoke hole. She wanted to look at sky and trees, and a lands
cape uncluttered with lodges.
As they started out, Racer was unusually boisterous and a bit fractious, and communicated some of his unruliness to the two mares, making them harder to handle. Once they got beyond the wooded area, Ayla slipped the halter off Gray so she could go at her own pace, and by tacit agreement, Ayla and Jondalar urged their mounts to a gallop and let them go at full speed. By the time the animals eased off of their own accord, they had worked off their excess energy and were more relaxed, but not Ayla. She was exhilarated. She had always loved riding fast, and after being kept close to camp, it was especially exciting.
They rode along at a more leisurely pace across a landscape contoured by the deep relief of high hills, limestone cliffs, and river-cut valleys. Though the noon sun was still hot most days, the season was turning. Mornings were often cool and crisp, and evenings overcast or rainy. Leaves were transforming their lush green of full summer into the yellows and occasional reds of autumn. The grasses of the open plains shaded from deep gold and rich brown to the pale yellow and grayish dun of the natural hay that would stand in the fields throughout most of the winter, but the leaves of certain forbs had turned to shades of red. Single plants or small clumps of the herbs suddenly appearing along their way stood out as bright spots of color that delighted Ayla, but it was the occasional south-facing wooded hillside that made her catch her breath with its dazzling display. From a distance, the colorful brush and trees gave an impression of large bouquets of bright flowers.
Gray was content to follow along riderless, stopping now and then to graze, and Wolf poked his nose into hillocks, pockets of brush, and patches of tall grass as he traced his own path of invisible scents and secret sounds. Their route traced a broad circle that eventually took them back toward the Meeting Campsite from the upstream direction of The River. But they didn’t return to camp. They cut in alongside the smaller waterway that wound through the woods to the north of the Ninth Cave’s camp and, near the time the sun reached its zenith, they found their way to the deep swimming hole at a sharp bend in the smaller stream. The trees provided dappled shade for the secluded beach of sandy gravel.
The sun felt pleasantly warm as Ayla lifted her leg over and slid down from Whinney. She unfastened the pack baskets and untied the riding blanket, and while Jondalar spread out the large hide, she pulled out a leather drawstring bag and hand-fed the dun-yellow mare some mixed grains, mostly oats, then gave her some affectionate strokes and scratches. After a few more handfuls she did the same for Gray, who had been nudging her for attention.
Jondalar fed and fondled Racer. The stallion was still more unmanageable than usual, though he calmed down with the food and handling, but Jondalar didn’t want to go after him if he decided to wander off. With a long rope attached to his halter, he hitched the horse to a small tree. Jondalar suddenly recalled that he had been considering letting the stallion go to find a place for himself with other horses on the open plains, and wondered if he should, but the man wasn’t ready yet to give up the company of the magnificent animal.
Wolf, who had been chasing his own whims, suddenly appeared from behind a screen of brush. Ayla had brought a meaty bone for him, but before she pulled it out of the pack basket, she decided to give him some attention, too. She tapped her shoulder and braced herself to receive the weight of the huge wolf as he jumped up on his hind legs and supported himself with his paws in front of her shoulders. He licked her neck, then gently held her jaw in his teeth. She returned the gesture in kind, then signaled him down, and hunkered in front of him, taking his head between her hands. She rubbed and scratched behind his ears and roughed up the thickening fur around his neck, then sat down on the ground and just hugged him. She knew the wolf had been there for her, too, as much as Jondalar, when she was recovering from her perilous Journey to the world of the spirits.
As often as he’d seen it, the tall man still marveled at her way with the wolf, and as comfortable as he was with the animal himself, he still reminded himself occasionally that Wolf was a hunting animal. A killing animal. Others of his kind stalked, killed, and ate animals larger than themselves. Wolf could as easily tear Ayla’s throat out as caress it gently with his teeth, yet he trusted this animal completely with his woman and his child. He had seen the love Wolf felt for them both and though he couldn’t fathom how it was possible, at a basic level, he understood it. He firmly believed that Wolf’s feeling for him was very much like his feeling for the wolf. The animal trusted him with the woman and child he loved, but Jondalar had no doubt that if Wolf ever thought that the man would cause harm to either one of them, he wouldn’t hesitate to stop him any way he could, even if it meant killing him. He would do the same.
Jondalar enjoyed watching Ayla with the wolf. But then he loved watching her no matter what she was doing, especially now that she was nearly her old self and they were back together. He’d hated leaving her behind when he left with the Ninth Cave for the Summer Meeting, and had missed her terribly, in spite of his diversion with Marona. After feeling sure he had lost her, first because of his own actions, and then, more desperately, because of the juice from the roots she had taken, he could hardly believe they were together again. He had so thoroughly persuaded himself that she was forever gone from him that he had to keep looking at her, smiling at her, watching her smile back to believe that she was still his mate, his woman; that they were riding the horses, going for a swim, being together just as though nothing had happened.
It made him think of their long Journey together, their adventures, and the people they had met along the way. There were the Mamutoi, the mammoth hunters who had adopted Ayla, and the Sharamudoi, among whom his brother Thonolan had found a mate, though her death had killed his spirit. Tholie and Markeno, as well as the others, had wanted Ayla and him to stay, especially after she had used her medicine skills to straighten Roshario’s broken arm, which had been healing badly. They had even met Jeran, a hunter from the Hadumai, the people he and Thonolan had visited. And of course the S’Armunai, whose hunters, the Wolf Women, had captured him, and Attaroa, their headwoman, who had tried to kill Ayla, until Wolf stopped her the only way he could, by killing her. And the Losadunai …
He suddenly remembered when they had stopped to visit the Losadunai on their long Journey from the land of the Mammoth Hunters. They lived on the other side of the glaciered highland to the east, where the Great Mother River began, and their language had enough similarities to Zelandonii that he could understand most of it, although Ayla with her Gift for languages had quickly learned it even better. The Losadunai were among the best known of the Zelandonii neighbors, and travelers from both often visited with each other, although crossing the glacier could be an obstacle.
There had been a Mother Festival while they were visiting, and just before it started, Jondalar and Losaduna had conducted a private ceremony. Jondalar had asked the Great Mother for a child, born to Ayla, to be born to his hearth, one born of his spirit, or his essence, as Ayla always said it. He had also made a special request. He had asked that if Ayla ever became pregnant with a child of his spirit, he wanted to know for sure that it was from him. Jondalar had often been told that he was Favored by the Mother, so Favored that no woman could refuse him, not even Doni Herself.
He fully believed that when Ayla was lost in the void after using the dangerous roots again, the Great Mother had granted his impassioned entreaty; she had given him what he wished for, longed for, what he had asked for, and in his mind he fervently thanked her again. But suddenly he understood that the Mother had also granted the request he had made in the special ceremony with the Losaduna. He knew that Jonayla was his child, the child of his essence, and he was happy for that.
He knew that all the children born to Ayla would be of his spirit, his essence, because of who she was, because she loved only him, and it pleased him to know that. And he knew he would love only her, no matter what. But this new Gift of Knowledge, he knew it would change things and couldn’t help but wonder ho
w much.
He wasn’t the only one. Everyone was thinking about it, but one in particular. The woman who was the First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother was sitting quietly in the zelandonia lodge thinking about the new Gift of Knowledge and knew it would change the world.