Brinan of the Wolf Clan

by Laura Jack

  Their histories, passed down through generations of story tellers and Shamans, talked of a great catastrophe when the land was covered in fire and ash and how almost the whole population of the tribe was wiped out. Slowly, they were recovering.

  On the day the Wolf Clan reached the sea, they could smell it long before they saw it and the salty air spurred them on despite aching legs and backs. As soon as they caught their first glimpse of the open water, the children raced ahead abandoning their haversacks and outer clothes and ran into the sea, jumping over waves and splashing merrily. It was mid afternoon and everyone was glad for the chance to cool down. Later they made camp higher up the beach where the tide would not reach them. Brinan, Serena and Callom – trailed by Matina, wandered off to forage the rock pools.

  “Don’t go out of sight.” called Deema.

  “Bring us back some mussels.” Shouted Jonan.

  “Get them yourself.” Muttered Brinan. He intended to bring some back for his mother and Arguus but he wouldn’t bother now he’d been asked.

  “Jonan is our mother’s mate now, you should respect him.” Serena understood her brother and his stubborn dislike of Jonan. While they were growing up, they’d had their mother to themselves. The arrival of Jonan had usurped Brinan from his place as man of the hearth.

  “You sound like mother.” He snapped as he climbed over damp, jagged rocks to find a good pool. Matina held out her hand to be helped up onto the rock. He pulled her up, but had to prize his fingers from her grip.

  “Look, mussels.” Cried Callom, plunging his hands into a rock pool and pulling a large mussel from its stronghold. Its dark blue shell was as large as his fist. They found many more, only when the light was fading did they turn back to camp, sharing their bounty with their hearths.

  Callom took his share to his grandparents, Yorak and Juno. Juno smile at her grandson. There was always a strange smell hovering over Juno’s hearth. She had problems breathing sometimes especially in extremes of weather and most frightening when she was ill. She had come close to the spirit world a few times which upset Callom. Juno and Yorak had taken over his care when his parents died in a hunting accident.

  Brinan took some over for Arguus and presented them to his mate, Shera.

  “Thank you Brinan. Here, take these to your mother.” She handed Brinan a small wooden bowl of wild strawberries. Brinan grinned. There were definite advantages to sharing outside the hearth. Shera watched him return to his own fire, wistfully wondering why she had never been blessed with a child of her own; she had always felt like a second mother to Brinan, and Serena.

  He was a serious boy, Shera mused, quiet and thoughtful, but not in a timid way. He was stubborn and headstrong sometimes – but they were not bad qualities for a future leader, she was sure he would have no trouble standing up for the needs of his Clan when those times came. It was nearly time for Arguus to begin training him in leadership skills. Once he adopted his future role, Brinan would not have the carefree attitude of other boys. Arguus had been given the burden of leadership at a very young age and argued that Brinan was entitled to enjoy his childhood without such worries and responsibility. Fate, however, had different plans.

  2 The Gathering

  Over the next few days, every member of the Clan, young and old, busied themselves gathering and drying edible seaweed and shellfish, cleaning the shells to use as utensils or jewellery to trade with. One afternoon was devoted to collecting rock salt. Of all the things they gathered on the coast to trade with, salt was their most valuable commodity.

  Callom and Brinan fished in a large sheltered bay. Wading into the shallow water to stand patiently and spear the flat fish that skulked in the sand. It took patience and persistence to spear a fish. Weather conditions, the moon and tides affected the presence of fish and the depth at which the boys could find them. In the warm, early summer months, they hunted the big sea bass which loved swimming in shallow water among the strips of sand warmed by the sun.

  Brinan and Callom looked on with envy as the hunters boarded coracles and paddled out to the mouth of the bay. The coracles were small, round boats, tricky to manoeuvre but serviceable and easily made with a wooden frame covered with a heavy hide that was waterproofed and sealed. The coracles, along with their oars, were stored safely in a cave after each visit.

  Brinan day-dreamed about being in the boat, fishing with the men - but Callom day-dreamed about building a boat! He had made a much smaller version at home and played with it in the stream by their cave, in his mind he wanted to make something much bigger, but bigger meant more man-power to row. The coracles were fine for one or sometimes two, passengers, leaving just room for the fish that was caught. One day, thought Callom, I’ll make a new kind of boat, that many people can ride in and catch many more fish.

  Brinan got his wish sooner than he expected, on the last day of their stay at the beach, both boys were allowed out in the coracles, staying within the shelter of the bay. Next summer, Jonan promised, they would be allowed to help with the men. The boys managed a small catch which was eaten fresh by the Clan on the last night of their stay before saying farewell to the seashore.

  They journeyed south for a half day then turned south west; passing through continuously changing terrain. The Clan had got used to trekking and enjoyed the sights, particularly when they spotted a wolf pack hunting a herd of aurochs. Aurochs were the ancestors of all domestic breeds of cattle. The tenacious wolves had followed the herd across the open plains. As small and weak as they were in comparison to their prey, the wolf pack had managed to bring down a huge old bull using co-operation and courage. Brinan was proud of his Clan’s totem.

  On the morning of the last day of their trek to the Summer Gathering, Arguus summoned Brinan to join him as the Clan set out. Brinan felt apprehensive and a little self-conscious as he fell into step beside his uncle. He felt a deep sense of pride walking at the front with the leaders and glimpsed a sudden insight into his future status. He walked taller, emulating the proud bearing of his mentor and turned to look back at the people following him. His mother smiled fondly at him.

  “We should reach the caves of the Horse Clan before sunset, I can see the landmarks.” Announced Arguus, as much to himself as to Brinan. “Do you see that chain of mountains in the distance?”

  “Yes Uncle. Is it still that far?”

  “No, no. Look between where we are standing and where the mountain on the far west is. Do you see the wooded valley in our line of sight? Now look for the large overhanging rock in the south of the valley”

  Brinan scanned the area. “Yes, I see them.”

  “Since we set off this morning, those mountains and that distinctive rock have been in my sights. All the way, I have followed a path that lines up directly with the rock and the mountain to the far west. I know that if I keep those two landmarks directly in front of each other I am on the right track to the Cave of the Horse Clan. We cannot see the Clan’s caves because they are deep on this side of the valley and sheltered by trees, but by using two landmarks that I know will not change with the seasons, I can navigate my way to the Clan without wasting time and energy veering off course and having to back track.

  “That’s clever, but what do you do if it’s misty or raining and clouds cover the valley and mountains?”

  “Since the seashore, I’ve had smaller landmarks to follow such as a rocky outcrop and the course of various streams. When you are travelling, never risk your life trying to find your way in bad weather. Make camp, wait until the weather clears. Streams are okay but if there has been heavy rain, streams can flood and change course. Use the bigger landmarks whenever you can, and of course the sun as it travels across the sky.”

  Brinan nodded, he was delighted with the knowledge given to him as they journeyed on and practised his own navigation skills by picking out smaller landmarks; a boulder, a distinctively shaped tree, lining them up in his sights and following them. It would be a good skill to use when he played with th
e other boys at the Summer Gathering; they often went on forays of their own. Knowledge, not weaponry - was power. Nature was both their ally and their enemy. Brinan decided he would lead his own ‘Clan’ this summer.

  They descended into the valley, following a steep, narrow trail which made the descent quite difficult for those hunters who pulled the travois as it was quite steep, with loose rocks in places. Arguus indicated that they were now following a well defined path marked by cairns of boulders with the jaw bones of horses pointing the way to the Caves of the Horse Clan. He also pointed out a particular rock formation at the other end. It was a steep cliff face with a flat surface; that protruded over the valley like a miniature peninsula.

  “Recognise that? It’s the land mark we used to get here. It has another use and is the reason the Horse Clan are so called.” Arguus explained. “Every summer we help drive a herd of horses off the edge of that cliff and butcher the animals for their skins and meat. The horse herds around here are large and it is what enables this Clan to host the gathering every summer without depleting their food sources for the winter.”

  “There is another reason for their playing host.” Added Tamo, as he joined them. “There are many caves in this valley, some go deep into Magda’s Underworld and are used for the tribes sacred ceremonies. Some of the deeper caves are filled with ancient drawings and carvings made by our ancestors. It is where the tribe of Magdalene first became and every Clan can trace its histories back to this cave.

  “Can we see them, the drawings and carvings I mean?” Asked Brinan, he knew Serena would love to see them.

  “No!” snapped Tamo. “The caves go deep into the mountain; it is dangerous to venture in. Even for the Shamans. Some people have wandered into those caves and never come out - lost forever in Magda’s Underworld. When you are leader, you will be shown the sacred caves, but until then leave them well alone.”

  Brinan nodded, but felt privately that Tamo was being over dramatic – but then what Shaman wasn’t!

  “Holla!” Cried a voice from the trees. Walking toward the Wolf Clan, a man and woman, both carrying spears and wearing horse hide cloaks, were coming up the path to greet them.

  “Dagme!” Arguus greeted the leader of the Horse Clan with a bear hug. He hugged the woman too, more gently but with no less affection. “Parisse, you look as beautiful as ever!”

  “Arguus, you old wolf! We’ve been waiting for you. I had someone post a lookout and when we heard of your arrival, we came to greet you. We have saved you your usual spot next to our cave. Is this Brinan? How you’ve grown,” remarked Parisse. “Will you be hunting with us this summer?”

  Brinan looked up expectantly at his Uncle but Arguus just laughed and said “No, not quite yet, next summer.” Brinan felt deflated but perked up when Arguus continued. “It will be his twelfth year at the Harvest Moon; I’ll start taking him out with me then.”

  The Wolf Clan, led by the head man and woman of the Horse Clan made its way down to the encampment. The noise of so many people and activities in one area made quite an impact on the children of the Wolf Clan. They couldn’t help but be swept up in the bustle and excitement of the Gathering. The smoke of many hearths curled up through the trees. The overwhelming stench of human and fire meant both predators and prey steered well clear of the valley, making a safe haven for the children. Near the base of the valley, the plains had been cleared of trees and shrubs and flattened out to open meadows for the tents of all the visiting Clans. As they made their way to their annual campsite, the members of the Wolf Clan were greeted by friends and relatives in other Clan’s of the tribe.

  “Brinan, Callom!” A group of boys called out, waving to catch their attention. Both boys waved back. They couldn’t wait to get unpacked so they could catch up with old friends.

  The host Clan had their quarters in the largest of the many limestone caves on that hillside. Like the Wolf Clan, they occupied the area to the front of the cave to get the benefit of sunlight in summer. Inside the cave was split into many hearths. Each one defined by screens of horse hide stretched across wood frames and pegged into the floor, offering some privacy for the many families that shared the cave.

  The cave of the Horse Clan was the largest and most prolific of all the Clans. The Wolf Clan was second - not in size - but in status. Next to them were the Aurochs Clan, then the Bison Clan, the Brown Bear Clan, the Chamois Clan and the Wolverine Clan as well as several others of lower rank and size.

  Brinan remembered being told that there had once been a Mammoth Clan, a Cave Lion Clan, and Woolly Rhinoceros Clan but they had travelled so far North and East to follow their living namesakes that they now went to the Summer Gatherings of other tribes in the East. It reminded him of the sadness he felt when his father had left for a journey to contact these kin, but had never returned. Brinan had only been a two year old, but still vaguely remembered his father, similar in hair colouring to himself, although over the years the features of his face were blurred with time.

  As well as the Clans that had travelled North and East, there were several other Clans, mostly in the South, that some years would go to Tribal Gatherings in the Southerly Lands and then return to the Magdalene Tribes Summer Gathering the following year. It gave them a diversity of goods to trade with – including the trading of skills and knowledge.

  Everyone loved the Summer Gathering. It was a chance to explore a different region, play with old friends; and make new ones. Feasts were laid on, with one Clan inviting another Clan over to share a meal with them. Competitions were held, running races, spear throwing, and tool making. The boys had their own competitions as well as the men. Some of the women and older girls joined in these competitions too, they were valued hunters and trackers within the Clans, but they also held their own subtle competitions. The making of clothes, jewellery, utensils and weaponry as well as cooking sumptuous dishes to attract trade to the foods and trade goods particular to their Clan. Some men also preferred these activities to hunting and strove to excel at them.

  Each Clan had spent their winter confinement skinning and dying hides some of which were made into elaborate outfits decorated with bone, teeth, shell, and furs. Weaving cloth, baskets and mats were also widely practised. Colours and designs often indicated what Clan had made them. Jewellery was also made; using bones, shells, semi-precious stones depending on what was indigenous to each particular Clan’s home cave. Ornamental bowls and cups were fashioned from bone and wood and the designs upon them served to identify their origins.

  Not all men hunted, just as not all women dealt with domestic duties. One of the most revered groups were travelling entertainers, singers and dancers – but especially the story tellers. There was one in particular that the children always looked out for - ‘Emosnar’ was a tall, slim enigmatic man with a distinctive hat of pale cream leather decorated with beads and feathers, he was a popular and prestigious guest to host at your hearth - if you could persuade him. The children looked for the distinctive hat, not the man, but he was nowhere in sight.

  The biggest ceremony of the summer was held after the horse hunt, it took advantage of the abundance of meat to hold a mass ceremony. Spiritual festivals were held including mating ceremonies, the naming of babies, the adoption of people into one another’s Clan’s, the rites of passage for boys and girls allowing them adult status – in a few summers it would be Brinan’s turn.

  On their arrival at the Cave of the Horse Clan, every member of the Wolf Clan had been offered a drink from the ‘Claich’ – a ceremonial cup filled with a fermented drink offering hospitality and safety to visitors. If you were not offered a drink from the Claich, it meant you were not welcome and custom dictated you were expected to leave before sun down. No-one entertained the idea that they would be refused the cup, and of course, none ever were - it was such an ancient custom it had been many years since anyone had been refused a welcome.

  “Are you finished unpacking?” Callom asked as he entered Brinan’s hearth.
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  “Almost - have you been outside yet?” Brinan replied.

  “I thought I’d wait for you.” Callom would never admit to being too shy to face people alone, despite his cleverness and humour, he needed Brinan for confidence – Brinan needed Callom to deflect his seriousness.

  When they left their tent it was sunset. Most people were outside their tents, settling down to evening meals and another night of gathering and gossip. The arrival of the Wolf Clan had revived enthusiasm. Some people played music and danced. Adults drank the fermented juice of berries grown in the south by one of the more distant Clans who brought it as their main source of trade. The wine, as it was called, was stored deep in the cool, cavernous caves of the Horse Clan. Much later in the evening, the celebrations got louder. Young children slept, while the older ones, like Brinan and Callom, found places away from the prying eyes and annoying antics of adults to host their own private gatherings, pooling their resources of food from their respective camps.

  All eyes turned to the river where a large raft, lit with torches revealed the arrival of the story tellers. Seated on a bench in the centre of the raft in his distinctive cream hat, Emosnar the Story Teller, smiled and waved jovially to the cheering crowds on the bank.

  “Now the Gathering has really begun!” Remarked Brinan; grinning broadly.

  Callom grinned too - he loved the story tellers and wished that he had their gift.

  “He’ll go to the Horse hearth first to pay his respects,” he said.

  “Come on; let’s be there for his arrival before the crowds follow him up. I know where we can hide.”

  The two of them made their way up to the entrance to the Horse Clan and settled among the growing piles of trade goods that had been given as compensation for the Clan in return for hosting the Gathering. Callom was right, it wasn’t long before they spotted the leaders making their way up and close on their heels was Emosnar. He was right about the crowds too; they hovered outside the entrance to the Horse Clan. The two boys ducked down among the baskets and folded piles of hides and furs so they wouldn’t be chased out. The adults settled themselves around the cooking hearth and Emosnar was offered wine and food which he accepted with exaggerated humbleness.