by Jean M. Auel
There were nods of agreement, as they all turned their attention back to the stranger.
“As we were going past a canyon, I heard the roar of a lion, and then a scream, the scream of a man in pain,” Ayla continued. They were hanging on her every word, and Folara couldn’t be quiet.
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t know what to do at first, but I had to go find out who had screamed. I had to try to help, if I could. Whinney took me to the canyon. I got down behind a rock and slowly tried to look in. Then I saw the lion, and heard him. It was Baby. I wasn’t afraid anymore and went in. I knew he wouldn’t hurt us,” she said.
This time it was Zelandoni who couldn’t keep still. “You recognized a lion’s roar? Went right into the canyon of a roaring lion?”
“It wasn’t just any lion. It was Baby. My lion. The one I raised,” Ayla said, trying to make an important distinction. She glanced at Jondalar, and he was grinning in spite of the seriousness of the events she was relating. He couldn’t help it.
“They already told me about this lion,” Marthona said. “Apparently Ayla has a way with other animals, not just horses and wolves. Jondalar says he saw her ride the back of this lion, just like the horses. He claims others have seen it, too. Please continue, Ayla.”
Zelandoni thought she’d have to look into this connection with animals. She had seen the horses by The River, and knew Ayla had a wolf with her, but she’d been seeing to a sick child in one of the other dwellings when Marthona led them to her place. They weren’t in evidence at the moment, and she had put them out of her mind for the time being.
“When I got to the back end of the canyon,” Ayla continued, “I saw Baby up on a ledge with two men. I thought both of them were dead, but when I climbed up and looked, I realized only one was dead. The other was still alive, but without help, he wouldn’t be for very long. I managed to get Jondalar down off the ledge and tied him to the pole drag.”
“What about the lion?” Joharran asked. “Cave lions don’t usually let anything come between them and something they’ve killed.”
“No, they don’t, but this was Baby. I told him to go away.” Ayla saw his look of stunned disbelief. “Just like I used to when we hunted together. I don’t think he was hungry anyway, his lioness had just brought him a deer. And he didn’t hunt people. I raised him. I was his mother. People were his family … his pride. I think the only reason he attacked the two men was that they had encroached on his den, his territory.
“But I didn’t want to leave the other man there. The lioness wouldn’t think people were family. There wasn’t room for him on the pole drag, and no time for a burial. I was afraid Jondalar would die, too, if I didn’t get him back to my cave. I noticed a steep scree slope at the back of the ledge, with a rock holding it back. I dragged the body there and used my spear—I used big thick Clan spears then—to pry the rock out of the way so the gravel would cover him. I hated to leave him like that, without even a message to the Spirit World. I’m not a mog-ur, but I used Creb’s ritual and asked the spirit of the Great Cave Bear to help guide him to the Land of the Spirits. Then Whinney and I brought Jondalar home.”
There were so many questions Zelandoni wanted to ask. Who or what was a “grrrub,” which was what the name Creb sounded like to her. And why the spirit of a cave bear instead of the Great Earth Mother? She hadn’t understood half of what Ayla said, and found the other half hard to believe. “Well, it’s a good thing Jondalar wasn’t hurt as bad as you thought,” the older healer said.
Ayla shook her head. What did she mean? Jondalar was nearly dead. She still wasn’t sure how she saved him.
Jondalar could guess what Ayla was thinking from her expression. It was obvious Zelandoni had made some assumptions that needed to be corrected. He stood up. “I think you need to know how badly I was mauled,” he said, lifting his tunic and untying the waist thong of his summer leggings.
Although men seldom went entirely naked, even on the hottest days of summer, and neither did women, showing one’s bare body was not a concern. People often saw each other when they went swimming or took sweat baths. It wasn’t his exposed manhood that people stared at when Jondalar bared himself, it was the massive scarring on his upper thigh and groin.
The wounds had healed well; there was evidence that Ayla had actually sewn pieces of his skin together in places, Zelandoni noted. She had made seven individual stitches in his leg: four knots along the deepest wound and three more to hold torn muscles in place. No one had ever taught her, it was the only way she could think of to keep the gaping gashes closed.
Jondalar had given no hint that he had sustained such a serious injury. There was no limping or favoring of that leg, and except for the scars themselves, the muscle tissue underneath appeared fairly normal. There were other scars and marks on his body around his right shoulder and chest from the scratches and gashes made by the lion, and another apparently unrelated scar on his rib. It was evident that his long Journey had not left him unscathed.
They all understood now how severely Jondalar had been hurt, and why he had to be tended to immediately, but only Zelandoni had any idea how close to death he was. She flushed to think how seriously she had underrated Ayla’s ability as a healer and was embarrassed to think of her rather offhand remark.
“I am sorry, Ayla. I had no idea you were so skilled. I think the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii is fortunate that Jondalar has brought such a well-trained healer with him,” she said, noticing Jondalar’s smile as he covered himself again, and a small sigh of relief from Ayla.
Zelandoni was even more determined to learn more about this stranger. This animal association had to mean something, and someone that skilled as a healer had to be brought within the authority and influence of the zelandonia. A stranger like that could wreak havoc within the orderly life of her people without some control and supervision. But since it was Jondalar who brought her, she would have to take it slowly. There was much to learn about this woman first.
“It seems I have you to thank for the return of at least one of my sons, Ayla,” Marthona said. “I am happy to have him and grateful to you.”
“If only Thonolan could have returned, it would indeed be a joyful occasion. But Marthona knew when he left that he would not return,” Willamar said, then, looking at his hearth mate, “I didn’t want to believe you, but I should have known. He wanted to see everything, and go everyplace. That alone would have kept him traveling. Even as a small child his curiosity was too great.”
The comment reminded Jondalar of a deep concern he had long felt. Perhaps now was the appropriate time.
“Zelandoni, I need to ask you, is it possible for his spirit to find his own way to the spirit world?” Jondalar’s habitual worried frown matched Joharran’s. “After the woman he mated died, Thonolan wasn’t himself, and he did not go to the next world with the proper assistance. His bones are still under that pile of gravel on the eastern steppes, he had no proper burial. What if his spirit is lost, wandering in the next world with no one to show him the way?”
The large woman frowned. It was a serious question, and one that had to be handled with delicacy, especially for the sake of Thonolan’s grieving family. “Didn’t you say something about some hurried ritual you performed, Ayla? Tell me about it.”
“There’s not much to tell,” she said. “It was the ritual Creb always used when a person died and their spirit left this world. I was more concerned about the man who was living, but I wanted to do something to help the other one to find his way.”
“She took me to the place later,” Jondalar added, “and gave me some powdered red ochre to sprinkle over the rocks of his grave. When we left the valley for the last time, we went back to the canyon where Thonolan and I were attacked. I found a very special stone that came from the pile that buried him. I brought it with me. I hoped it might help you to find his spirit if it still wanders, so you could help him find his way. It’s in my pack, I’ll get it.”
“I was standing there, thinking of Thonolan, and this rolled down the gravel slope and landed at my feet,” Jondalar explained. “Ayla said that I should put it in my amulet—this pouch—and take it home with me. I don’t know what it means, but it felt—it feels—as if Thonolan’s spirit is somehow connected with it.”
He handed the stone to Zelandoni. No one else felt inclined to touch it, and Joharran actually shuddered, Ayla noticed. The woman studied it carefully, giving herself time to think and consider what to say.
“I think you are right, Jondalar,” she said. “This is connected with Thonolan’s spirit. I am not sure what it means, I need to study it more, and ask the Mother for guidance, but you were wise to bring it to me.” She was silent for a while, then added, “Thonolan’s spirit was adventuresome. Perhaps this world was too small for him. He may still be traveling in the next world, not because he’s lost, but because he may not be ready to find his place there, yet. How far east were you when his life on this world ended?”
“Beyond the inland sea at the end of the great river, the one that begins on the other side of the highland glacier.”
“The one they call the Great Mother River?”
“Yes.”
Zelandoni was silent again. Finally she spoke. “It may be, Jondalar, that Thonolan’s quest could only be satisfied in the next world, in the land of the spirits. Perhaps Doni felt it was time to call him, and let you return home. What Ayla did may have been enough, but I don’t quite understand what she did, or why she did it. I need to ask some questions.”
She looked at the tall, handsome man she had once loved, still loved in her own way, and the young woman sitting beside him who had managed to astonish her more than once in the short time since she arrived. “First, who is this ‘Grrrub’ you speak of, and why did you appeal to the spirit of a cave bear and not the Great Earth Mother?”
She could see where Zelandoni’s questions were leading, and because they were direct questions, she almost felt compelled to answer. She had learned what a lie was, and that some people could say a thing that wasn’t true, but she could not. The most she could do was refrain from mentioning, and that was particularly difficult when she was asked a direct question. Ayla looked down and stared at her hands. There were black smudges on them from making the fire.
She had been sure that eventually it would all come out, but she had hoped to spend some time with Jondalar’s people first, to get to know some of them. Perhaps it was just as well. If she was going to have to leave, it would be better to do it before she grew to like them.
But what about Jondalar? She loved him. What if she had to leave without him? His child was inside her. Not just the child of his hearth, or even the child of his spirit. His child. It didn’t matter what anyone else believed, she was convinced, she knew it was his child, as much as hers. He had started it growing inside her when they shared Pleasures—the Gift of Pleasure given to Her children by the Great Earth Mother.
She had been afraid to look at him, avoiding it for fear of what she might see. Suddenly she looked up, directly at him. She had to know.
4
Jondalar smiled and nodded his head imperceptibly. Then he reached for her hand, gave it a little squeeze, and held it. Ayla could hardly believe it. It was all right! He understood and he was telling her it was all right. She could say whatever she wanted about the Clan. He would stay with her. He loved her. She smiled back, her big wonderful smile, full of love.
Jondalar, too, had seen where Zelandoni’s questions were leading, and much to his own surprise, he didn’t care. At one time he had been so concerned about what his family and his people would think of this woman, and what they might think of him for bringing her home with him, he almost gave her up, almost lost her. Now, it didn’t matter. As much as he cared about them, as glad as he was to see them, if his own family wouldn’t accept her along with him, then he’d leave. It was Ayla he loved. Together, they had much to offer. Several Caves had already asked them to stay and live with them, including Dalanar’s Lanzadonii. He was sure they could find a home—somewhere.
The donier knew something had passed between Ayla and Jondalar, some kind of approval or affirmation. It made her curious, but she had learned that observation and patience often satisfied her curiosity better than questions.
Ayla turned to look at Zelandoni to answer. “Creb was mog-ur of Brun’s clan, the one who knew the spirit world, but he was more than just mog-ur. He was like you, Zelandoni, he was First, The Mog-ur of the whole Clan. But to me, Creb was … man of my hearth, though I wasn’t born there, and the woman he lived with, Iza, was his sibling, not his mate. Creb never had mate.”
“Who or what is the Clan?” Zelandoni asked. She noticed that Ayla’s accent got thicker when she spoke of them.
“The Clan is … I was … adopted by the Clan. They are the ones who took me in when I was … alone. Creb and Iza took care of me, raised me. Iza was mother, only mother I remember. And she was medicine woman, healer. Iza was First, too, in a way. She was most respected of all medicine women, as her mother and her grandmother had been, all the way back in unbroken line to beginning of Clan.”
“Is that where you learned your healing skills?” Zelandoni asked, leaning forward on the cushions.
“Yes. Iza taught me, even though I wasn’t her true daughter, and didn’t have her memories like Uba did. Uba was my sister. Not a true sibling, but still my sister.”
“What happened to your real mother, your family, the people you were born to?” Zelandoni wanted to know. Everyone was curious, fascinated, but they let her ask the questions.
Ayla sat back and looked up, as though trying to und an answer. Then she looked at the large woman who was regarding her so intently. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. I was young, Iza guessed that I could count five years … although they didn’t have counting words like Zelandonii. The Clan named the years beginning as babies. The first was the birthing year, then the nursing year, the weaning year, and so on. I put it into counting words,” she tried to explain. Then she stopped. She couldn’t explain everything, tell her whole life with the Clan. It would be better to just answer the questions.
“You don’t remember anything about your own people?” Zelandoni pressed.
“I only know what Iza told me. An earthquake had destroyed their cave, and Brun’s clan was looking for a new one when she found me beside a river, unconscious. They had been without a home for some time, but Brun allowed her to take me with them. She said I must have been attacked by a cave lion because there were four claw marks on my leg, with the wide spacing of a cave lion, and they were … running, poisoned, corrupted,” Ayla tried to find the right words.
“Yes, I understand,” the donier said. “Festered, suppurant, perhaps to the stage of morbid corruption. Cat claws tend to do that.”
“I still have the scars. That’s how Creb knew the Cave Lion was my totem, even though it’s usually a man’s totem. I still dream sometimes of being in a small dark place and seeing a big cat claw coming,” Ayla said.
“That’s a powerful dream. Do you have any other dreams? About that rime in your life, I mean?”
“One that’s more frightening, but hard to explain. I never quite remember it. It’s more a feeling, a feeling of an earthquake.” The young woman shuddered. “I hate earthquakes!”
Zelandoni nodded knowingly. “Any others?”
�
�No … yes, but only once, when Jondalar was still recovering, and was teaching me to speak.…”
Zelandoni thought that was a peculiar way to phrase it and glanced at Marthona to see if she had noted the odd expression.
“I understood some,” Ayla said. “I had learned many words, but I was having trouble putting all together, then I dreamed of my mother, my real mother. I saw her face, and she spoke to me. The learning was easier after that.”
“Ahhh … That’s a very important dream,” the One Who Served commented. “It’s always important when the Mother comes to you in your dreams, whatever form She takes, but particularly when She takes the form of your own mother speaking to you from the next world.”
Jondalar recalled a dream he had had of the Mother when they were still in Ayla’s valley. A very strange dream. I should tell Zelandoni about it sometime, he thought.
“So, if you dreamed of the Mother, why didn’t you appeal to her to help Thonolan find his way in the next world? I don’t understand why you called upon the spirit of a cave bear and not the Great Earth Mother.”
“I didn’t know about the Great Earth Mother until Jondalar told me, after I learned your language.”
“You didn’t know about Doni, about the Great Earth Mother?” Folara asked with amazement. None of the Zelandonii had ever heard of anyone who did not recognize the Great Mother in some name or form. They were all mystified.
“The Clan honors Ursus, the Great Cave Bear,” she said. “That’s why I called on Ursus to help guide the spirit of the dead man—I didn’t know his name then—even though he wasn’t Clan. I did ask the Spirit of the Cave Lion to help, too, since he was my totem.”
“Well, if you didn’t know Her, then you did what you could, under the circumstances. I’m sure it helped,” Zelandoni said, but she was more concerned than she showed. How could any of Her children not know the Mother?