by Jean M. Auel
10
Ayla! Are you sure?” Marthona asked with a smile. She did think it was a rather strange way of saying that the Mother had Blessed her—carrying Jondalar’s baby—even if it probably was the child of his spirit.
“As sure as anyone can be. I have missed two moon times, I feel a little sick in the mornings, and I’m aware of some changes in me that usually mean pregnancy,” Ayla said.
“How wonderful!” Jondalar’s mother said. She reached over and gave Ayla a hug. “If you are already Blessed, it brings luck to your mating, or so people claim.”
Sitting at the low table, the young woman untied the leather-wrapped package and tried to shake the wrinkles out of the tunic and leggings that had been carried across a continent through every season for the past year. Marthona examined the outfit and quickly saw past the creases as she realized what magnificent garments they were. Ayla would most definitely stand out at the Mating Ceremonial wearing this.
First of all, the style was utterly unique. Both men and women of the Zelandonii, with some differences and variations related to gender, usually wore rather loosely bloused pullover tunics, belted at the hips, with various embellishments of bone, shell, feather, or fur and fringes of leather or cordage. Women’s clothing, particularly the clothes they wore for special occasions, often had long hanging fringes that swayed as they walked, and a young woman quickly learned how to make the dangling decoration accentuate her movements.
Among the Zelandonii, a naked woman was an ordinary sight, but fringes were considered very provocative. It wasn’t that women didn’t usually wear clothing, but removing clothes to wash or change or for whatever reason in their close-knit society with relatively little privacy was hardly given a thought. On the other hand, a fringe, especially a red fringe, could give a woman an allure so tantalizing, it could drive men to extremes, on rare occasions even violence because of a particular association.
When women took on the role of donii-women—when they were making themselves available to teach young men about the Great Earth Mother’s Gift of Pleasure—they wore a long red fringe dangling around their hips to denote their important ritual status. On hot days of summer, they often wore little more than the fringe.
While donii-women were protected by custom and convention from inappropriate advances and, in any case, they tended to stay in certain areas when they wore the red fringe, it was believed dangerous for a woman to wear such a fringe at any other time. Who could tell what it might drive a man to do? Though women often wore fringes of colors other than red, any fringe invariably had some erotic implications.
As a result, the word “fringe,” in subtle innuendo or crude jokes, often carried the double meaning of pubic hair. When a man was so captivated by a woman that he couldn’t stay away from her or stop looking at her, it was said that he was “snared by her fringe.”
Zelandonii women wore other decorations or sewed them to their clothing, but they particularly liked to wear fringes that moved sensuously when they walked, whether they decorated a warm winter tunic or a naked body. And though they avoided explicitly red fringes, many women chose colors that contained a strong hint of red.
Ayla’s Mamutoi outfit had no fringes, but there was no doubt that a tremendous amount of effort had been put into making it. The leather, which was of the finest quality, was a rich, earthy, golden yellow hue that almost matched the color of her hair, the result primarily of yellow ochres mixed subtly with reds and other colors. The hide had probably come from deer of some variety, or perhaps saiga antelope, Marthona thought, though it wasn’t the usual velvety soft buckskin of a well-scraped hide. Instead, although it was very soft, the leather had a burnished, shiny finish that was somewhat waterproof.
But the quality of the basic garments was only the beginning; it was the exquisite decoration that made the outfit so extraordinary. The long leather tunic and the lower part of the leggings were covered with elaborate geometric designs made predominantly of ivory beads, some sections solidly filled in. The designs began with downward pointing triangles, which developed horizontally into zigzags and vertically into diamonds and chevrons, then evolved into complex geometric figures such as rectangular spirals and concentric rhomboids.
The ivory beaded designs were highlighted and defined by many small amber beads in shades both lighter and darker than the leather, but of the same tone, and with embroideries of red, brown, and black. The tunic, which fell to a downward-pointing triangle at the back, opened down the front, with the section below the hips tapering so that when it was brought together, another downward-pointing triangle was created. It was tied closed at the waist with a finger-woven sash in a similar geometric pattern made of red mammoth hair with accents of ivory mouflon wool, brown musk ox underdown, and deep reddish-black woolly rhinoceros hair.
The outfit was stunning, a magnificent work of art. The workmanship in every detail was excellent. It was evident that someone had secured the finest materials and utilized the most skillful and accomplished artisans to create the finished outfit, and no effort had been spared. The beadwork was a good example. Though Marthona saw them only as a huge number, more than three thousand ivory beads made from mammoth tusk were sewn onto the garments, and each small bead had been carved, pierced, and polished by hand.
Jondalar’s mother had never seen anything like it, but she knew immediately that whoever had directed the outfit to be made commanded great respect and held a very high position within the community. It was clear that the time and labor that went into the making of it were incalculable, yet the outfit had been given to Ayla when she left. None of the benefits of the resources and work would stay within the community that made it. Ayla said she had been adopted, but whoever had adopted her obviously possessed tremendous power and presrige—in effect, wealth—and no one understood that better than Marthona.
No wonder she wants to wear her own Matrimonial outfit, Marthona thought, and she should. It won’t hurt Jondalar’s presrige, either. This young woman is certainly full of surprises. Without question, she is going to be the most talked about woman at the Summer Meeting this year.
“The outfit is striking, Ayla, really quite beautiful,” Marthona said. “Who made it for you?”
“Nezzie did, but she had a lot of help.” Ayla was pleased by the older woman’s reaction.
“Yes, I’m sure she did,” Marthona commented. “You’ve mentioned her before, but I don’t recall exactly who she is.”
“She’s the mate of Talut, the headman of the Lion Camp, the one who was going to adopt me, but then Mamut did instead. I think it was Mamut who asked Nezzie to make it.”
“And Mamut is One Who Serves the Mother?”
“I think he may have been First, like your Zelandoni. Anyway, he was certainly the oldest. I think he was the oldest Mamutoi alive. When I left, my friend Deegie was expecting, and her brother’s woman was almost ready to give birth. Both children would be counted his fifth generation.”
Marthona gave a knowing nod. She knew that whoever had adopted Ayla had a great deal of influence; she hadn’t realized he was probably the most respected and powerful person of all his people. That explained a lot, she thought. “You said there were certain customs associated with wearing this?”
“The Mamutoi do not think it’s appropriate to wear a Matrimonial outfit before the ceremony. You can show family and close friends, but you are not supposed to wear it in public,” Ayla said. “Would you like to see how the tunic loóles?”
Jondalar grunted and turned over in his sleep, and Marthona glanced in the direction of their sleeping furs. She lowered her voice even more. “So long as Jondalar is still asleep. We do not consider it appropriate for him to see you in your Matrimonial clothing until the ceremony.”
Ayla slipped off her summer tunic and picked up the heavy, ornately decorated one. “Nezzie told me to wear it closed like this if I just want to show someone,” Ayla whispered as she tied it closed with the sash. “But for the ceremon
y, it should be open, like this,” she said, rearranging the garment and retying the sash. “Nezzie said, ‘A woman proudly shows her breasts when she is joined, when she brings her hearth to form a union with a man.’ I’m not really supposed to wear it open before the mating ceremony, but since you are Jondalar’s mother, I think it’s right for you to see.”
Marthona nodded. “I am very pleased that you showed me. It is our custom to show Matrimonial clothing before the occasion only to women, intimate friends or family, but I don’t think anyone else should see yours just yet. I think it would be …,” Marthona paused and smiled, “interesting to surprise everyone. If you like, we can hang it in my room so the creases can straighten out. A little steam would help, too.”
“Thank you. I’ve been wondering where I could put it. Can this beautiful tunic that you gave me stay in your room, too?” Ayla paused, remembering something else. “And I have another tunic I would like to put somewhere, one I made. Would you keep that for me?”
“Yes, of course. But put your outfits away for now. We can do it after Willamar wakes up. Is there anything else you’d like me to keep?” Marthona said.
“I have necklaces and things, but they can stay in my traveling packs, since I’ll be taking them with me to the Summer Meeting,” Ayla said.
“Do you have much?” Marthona couldn’t resist asking.
“Only two necklaces, including the one from you, an armband, two spiral shells for my ears, given to me by a woman who dances, and two matched pieces of amber that Tulie gave me when I left. She was the headwoman of the Lion Camp, Talut’s sister, and Deegie’s mother. She thought I should wear them on my ears at my mating, since they would match the tunic. I would like to, but my ears are not pierced,” Ayla said.
“I’m sure Zelandoni would be happy to pierce them for you, if you want,” Marthona said.
“I think I would. I don’t want any other piercings, at least not yet, but I would like to wear the matched ambers when Jondalar and I are mated, and the outfit from Nezzie.”
“This Nezzie must have been quite fond of you to have done so much for you,” Marthona commented.
“I certainly was fond of her,” Ayla replied. “If it hadn’t been for Nezzie, I don’t think I would have followed Jondalar when he left. I was supposed to mate with Ranec the next day. He was the son of her brother’s hearth, although she was more like a mother to him. But Nezzie knew Jondalar loved me, and she told me that if I really loved him to go after him and tell him so. She was right. It was hard to tell Ranec I was leaving, though. I did care for him, very much, but I loved Jondalar.”
“You must have, or you would not have left people who held you in such high regard to come home with him,” Marthona said.
Ayla noticed Jondalar shifting around again and stood up. Marthona sipped her tea, watching the young woman as she refolded her Matrimonial outfit, then the woven tunic, and put them in her traveling pack. When she returned, she motioned toward her sewing kit, which was on the table.
“My thread-puller is in that,” Ayla explained. “Perhaps we can go out in the sunlight after Jondalar’s morning tea is ready, and I’ll show it to you.”
“Yes, I would like to see it.”
Ayla went around to the cooking hearth, added wood to the fire, then some cooking stones to heat, and measured out some dried herbs in the palm of her hand for Jondalar’s tea. His mother was thinking that her first impression of Ayla was right. She was attractive, but there was more to her than that. She seemed genuinely concerned about Jondalar’s welfare. She would make a good mate for him.
Ayla was thinking about Marthona, admiring her quiet, self-assured dignity and regal grace. She felt that Jondalar’s mother had a great depth of understanding, but Ayla was sure that the woman who had been leader could be very strong if she had to be. No wonder her people hadn’t wanted her to step down after her mate died, the young woman thought. It must have been difficult for Joharran to follow after her, but he seemed comfortable in the position now, as far as she could tell.
Ayla quietly placed Jondalar’s cup of hot tea near him, thinking she would have to find some of the twigs he liked to use to clean his teeth, after he chewed the ends. He liked the taste of wintergreen. She would look for the evergreen that resembled willow the first chance she had. Marthona finished her tea, Ayla picked up her sewing kit, and both women slipped quietly out of the dwelling. Wolf followed them.
It was still early when they reached the stone front terrace. The sun had just opened its brilliant eye and peeked over the edge of the eastern hills. Its bright glare gave the rock of the cliff a warm ruddy glow, but the air was refreshingly cool. Not many people were moving about yet.
Marthona led them toward the edge near the dark circle of the signal fire. They sat on some large rocks that had been arranged around it, with their backs to the blinding radiance that was climbing through the red-and-gold haze to the cloudless blue vault. Wolf left them and continued down to Wood River Valley.
Ayla untied the drawstring of her sewing kit, a small leather bag sewn together around the sides and gathered at the top. Missing ivory beads that had once formed a geometrie pattern and frayed threads of embroidery betrayed the heavy use of the worn pouch. She emptied the small objects it contained into her lap. There were various sizes of cords and threads made of plant fibers, sinew, and animal hair, including several of the wool of mammoth, mouflon, musk ox, and rhino, each wound around small bone phalanges. Several small, sharp blades of flint used for cutting were tied together with sinew, as was a bundle of awls of bone and flint that were for piercing. A small square of tough mammoth hide served as a thimble. The last objects were three small tubes made of hollow bird bones.
She picked up a tube, removed a diminutive wad of leather from one end, and tipped the contents into her hand. A small tapering shaft of ivory slid out, with a point at one end—similar to an awl, but with a tiny hole at the other end. She handed it carefully to Marthona.
“Do you see the hole?” Ayla asked.
Marthona held it away from her. “I can’t really see it well,” she said, then brought it closer and felt the small object, first the sharp point, then along the shaft to the opposite end. “Ah! There it is! I can feel it. That’s a very small hole, not much bigger than the hole of a bead.”
“The Mamutoi do pierce beads, but no one at Lion Camp was a skilled bead-maker. Jondalar made the boring tool used to make the hole. I think that was the most difficult part of making this thread-puller. I didn’t bring anything to sew, but I’ll show you how it works,” Ayla said, taking it back. She selected the bone phalange that held sinew, unwound a length, wet the end in her mouth, deftly poked it through the hole, and pulled it through. Then she handed it to Marthona.
The woman looked at the threaded needle, but saw more with her hands than with her aging eyes, which could still see objects that were far away quite well, but not nearly so well as those that were near. Her frown of concentration as she examined it suddenly brightened to a smile of understanding. “Of course!” she said. “With this I believe I could sew again!”
“On some things, you need to make a hole with an awl first. As sharp as you can make it, the ivory point won’t pierce thick or tough leather very easily,” Ayla explained, “but it’s still better than trying to get the thread through a hole without it. I could make holes, but I just couldn’t learn how to pick up the thread through the hole with the point of an awl, no matter how patient Nezzie and Deegie were.”
Marthona smiled in agreement, then looked puzzled. “Most young girls have that trouble when they are learning; didn’t you learn to sew when you were young?”
“The Clan doesn’t sew, not in the same way. They wear wraps that are tied on. A few things are knotted together, like birch bark containers, but they have rather large holes to pull through the cords that are tied together, not like the fine little holes that Nezzie wanted me to make,” Ayla said.
“I keep forgetting your childhood
was … unusual,” Marthona said. “If you didn’t learn to sew as a girl, I can see how it would be difficult, but this is a remarkably clever device.” She looked up. “I think Proleva is coming this way. I would like to show her, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Ayla said. Glancing at the sunny terrace in front of the overhang, she saw Joharran’s mate and Salova, Rushemar’s mate, coming toward them, and noticed that many more people were up and moving about.
The women greeted each other, then Marthona said, “Look at this, Proleva. You, too, Salova. Ayla calls it a ‘thread-puller.’ She was just showing it to me. It’s very clever, and I think it will help me to sew again, even if I can’t see close very clearly anymore. I’ll be able to do it by feel.”
The two women, who had both constructed many garments in their lives, quickly grasped the concept of the new implement and were soon discussing its potential with excitement.
“Learning to use this will be easy, I think,” Salova said. “But making this thread-puller must have been difficult.”
“Jondalar helped with this one. He made the fine boring tool to drill the small hole,” Ayla explained.
“It would take someone with his skill. Before he left, I remember that he made flint awls and some boring tools for piercing beads,” Proleva said. “I think Salova’s right. It might be hard to make a thread-puller like this, but I’m sure it would be worth the effort. I’d like to try one.”
“I’d be happy to let you try this one, Proleva, and I have two others, of different sizes,” Ayla said. “The size I choose depends on what I want to sew.”
“Thank you, but I don’t think I’ll have time today with all the planning for the hunt. Joharran thinks this Summer Meeting is going to be especially well attended,” Proleva said, then smiled at Ayla, “because of you. The news that Jondalar has returned and brought a woman back with him is already running up and down The River, and beyond. He wants to make sure that we bring enough to feed the extra people when we sponsor a feast.”