by Jean M. Auel
As the winter progressed, Jondalar and Ayla’s unresolved misunderstanding kept getting worse. Jondalar was becoming afraid that he would lose her entirely to the dark, exotic, and engaging man. He kept trying to convince himself that he should be fair, and let her make the choice, that he didn’t have any right to make demands on her. But he stayed away because he didn’t want to present her with a choice which would give her the opportunity to reject him.
* * *
The Mamutoi did not seem disturbed by the harsh weather. They had plenty of food stored, and busied themselves with their usual winter diversions, snug and secure inside their semisubterranean longhouse. The older members of the Camp tended to gather around the cooking hearth, sipping hot tea, telling stories, reminiscing, gossiping, and playing games of chance with pieces of carved ivory or bone, when they were not busy on some project. The younger people congregated around the Mammoth Hearth, laughing and joking, singing songs and practicing musical instruments, though there was a great deal of intermixing among everyone, and the children were welcome everywhere. This was the time of leisure; the time to make and mend tools and weapons, utensils and jewelry; the time to weave baskets and mats, to carve ivory, bone, and antler; to make thongs, ropes, cords, and nets; and the time to make and decorate clothing.
Ayla was interested in how the Mamutoi processed their leather and, especially, how they colored it. She was also intrigued with the colored embroidery, quill and beadwork. Decorated and sewn clothing was new and unusual to her.
“You said you would show me how to make leather red after I make skin ready. I think bison skin I am working on is ready,” Ayla said.
“All right, I’ll show you,” Deegie said. “Let’s see how it looks.”
Ayla went to the storage platform near the head of her bed and unfolded a complete hide, and spread it out. It was incredibly soft to the touch, pliable, and nearly white. Deegie examined it critically. She had watched Ayla’s process without comment, but with great interest.
First Ayla had cut off the heavy mane close to the skin with a sharp knife, then she beamed it; draped it over a large smooth mammoth leg bone and scraped it, using the slightly dulled edge of a flint flake. She scraped the inside to remove clinging bits of fat and blood vessels, and the outside, against the lay of the hair, taking off the outer layer of skin, which included the grain of the leather, as well. Deegie would have rolled it up and left it near the fire for a few days, allowing it to begin to decay, to loosen the hair. When she was ready, the hair would come out, leaving behind the outer layer of skin, which would become the grain of the leather. To make the softer buckskin, as Ayla had done, she would have tied it to a frame to scrape off the hair and the grain.
Ayla’s next step incorporated a suggestion from Deegie. After soaking and washing, Ayla had planned to rub fat into the hide to soften it, as she was accustomed to doing. But Deegie showed Ayla how to make a thin gruel of the putrefying brains of the animal to soak the hide in instead. Ayla was both surprised and pleased at the results. She could feel the change in the hide, the softening and elasticity which the brain tissue imparted, even while she was rubbing it in. But it was after thoroughly wringing out the hide that the work began. It had to be pulled and stretched constantly while it was drying, and the quality of the finished leather depended upon how well the hide was worked at this stage.
“You do have a good hand for leather, Ayla. Bison hide is heavy, and this is so soft. It feels wonderful. Have you decided what you want to make out of it?”
“No.” Ayla shook her head. “But I want to make leather red. What do you think? Footwear?”
“It’s heavy enough for it, but soft enough for a tunic. Let’s go ahead and color it. You can think about what to make with it later,” Deegie said, and as they walked toward the last hearth together, she asked, “What would you do with that hide now? If you were not going to color it?”
“I would put over very smoky fire, so leather will not get stiff again, if it gets wet, from rain, or even from swimming,” Ayla said.
Deegie nodded. “That’s what I would do, too. But what we are going to do to the hide will make the rain slide off.”
They passed by Crozie when they walked through the Crane Hearth, which reminded Ayla of something she had been meaning to ask about. “Deegie, do you know how to make leather white, too? Like tunic Crozie wear? I like red, but after that, I would like to learn white. I think I know someone who would like white.”
“White is hard to do, hard to get leather really snowy white. I think Crozie could show you better than I could. You would need chalk … Wymez might have some. Flint is found in chalk, and usually the pieces he gets from the mine up north have a covering of chalk on the outside,” Deegie said.
The young women walked back to the Mammoth Hearth with some small mortars and pestles, and several lumps of red ochre coloring material in various shades. Deegie set some fat to melting over the fire, then arrayed the colored bits of material around Ayla. There were bits of charcoal for black, manganese for a blue-black, and a bright sulphurous yellow, in addition to ochres of many colors: browns, reds, maroons, yellows. The mortars were the natural bowl shapes of certain bones, such as the frontal bone of a deer, or pecked out of granite or basalt, just as the stone lamps were. Pestles were shaped out of hard ivory or bone, except one, which was an elongated natural stone.
“What shade of red do you want, Ayla? Deep red, blood red, earth red, yellow red; that’s sort of a sun color.”
Ayla didn’t know she would have so many choices. “I don’t know … red red,” she replied.
Deegie studied the colors. “I think if we take this one,” she said, picking up a piece that was a rather bright earth red, “and add a little yellow to it, to bring out the red more, it might be a color you would like.”
She put the small lump of red ochre in the stone mortar and showed Ayla how to grind it very fine, then had her grind up the yellow color in a separate bowl. In a third bowl, Deegie mixed the two colors until she was satisfied with the shade. Then she added the hot fat, which changed the color, and brightened it to a shade that made Ayla smile.
“Yes. That is red. That is nice red,” she said.
Next Deegie picked up a long deer rib, which had been split lengthwise so that the porous inner bone was exposed at the convex end. Using the rib burnisher with the spongy side down, she picked up a dab of the cooled red fat, and rubbed the mixture into the prepared bison skin, pressing hard as she held the hide in her hand. As she worked the mineral coloring into the pores of the material, the leather acquired a smooth sheen. On leather with grain, the burnishing tool and coloring agents would have given it a hard shiny finish.
After watching awhile, Ayla picked up another rib bone and copied Deegie’s technique. Deegie watched her, offered a few corrections. When a corner of the hide was finished, she stopped Ayla for a moment.
“Look,” she said, sprinkling a few drops of water on the hide as she held up the corner. “It runs off, see?” The water beaded up and ran down, leaving no mark on the impervious finish.
* * *
“Have you decided what you are going to do with your red piece of leather, yet?” Nezzie asked.
“No,” Ayla said. She had unfolded the full bison hide to show Rydag and to admire it herself again. It was hers, because she had dressed and treated the hide, and she had never owned so much of anything that was red, and the leather had turned out to be remarkably red. “Red was sacred to Clan. I would give to Creb … if I could.”
“It is the brightest red I think I have ever seen. You would certainly see someone coming for a long way wearing that.”
“It is soft, too,” Rydag signed. He often came to the Mammoth Hearth to visit with her, and she welcomed him.
“Deegie showed me how to make soft with brain, first,” Ayla said, smiling at her friend. “I use fat before. Hard to do, and stains, sometimes. Better using brain of bison.” She paused with a thoughtful expressio
n, then asked, “Will work for every animal, Deegie?” Then, when Deegie nodded, “How much brain should use? How much for reindeer? How much for rabbit?”
“Mut, the Great Mother, in her infinite wisdom,” Ranec replied instead, with the hint of a grin, “always gives just enough brains to each animal to preserve its hide.”
Rydag’s soft guttural chuckle puzzled Ayla for a moment, then she smiled. “Some have enough brains, do not get caught?”
Ranec laughed, and Ayla joined him, pleased with herself for understanding the joke hidden in the meaning. She was becoming much more comfortable with the language.
Jondalar, just walking into the Mammoth Hearth and seeing Ayla and Ranec laughing together, felt his stomach churn into a knot. Marnut saw him close his eyes as though in pain. He glanced at Nezzie and shook his head.
Danug, who had been following behind the visiting flint worker, watched him stop, clutch a post, and drop his head. The feelings of Jondalar and Ranec for Ayla, and the problem that was developing because of them, was apparent to all, though most people did not acknowledge it. They didn’t want to interfere, hoping to give the three of them room to work it out for themselves. Danug wished he could do something to help, but he was at a loss. Ranec was a brother, since Nezzie had adopted him, but he liked Jondalar and felt empathy for his anguish. He, too, had strong, if undefined, feelings for the beautiful new member of the Lion Camp. Beyond the inexplicable flushes and physical sensations when he was near her, he felt an affinity with her. She seemed to be as confused about how to handle the situation as he often felt about the new changes and complications in his life.
Jondalar took a deep breath and straightened up, then continued into the area. Ayla’s eyes followed him as he walked over to Mamut and handed him something. She watched them exchange a few words, then Jondalar left, quickly, without saying a word to her. She had lost the thread of the conversation going on around her, and when Jondalar left, she hurried to Mamut, not hearing the question Ranec had asked her, or seeing the fleeting look of disappointment on his face. He made a joke, which she also did not hear, to cover his dismay. But Nezzie, who was sensitive to the subtle nuances of his deeper feelings, noticed the hurt in his eyes, and then saw him set his jaw and square his shoulders with resolution.
She wanted to advise him, to give him the benefit of her experience and the wisdom of her years, but she held her tongue. They must work out their own destinies, she thought.
Since the Mamutoi lived in close quarters for extended periods of time, they had to learn to tolerate each other. There was no real privacy in the earthlodge, except the privacy of each person’s thoughts, and they were very careful not to intrude into another’s private thoughts. They shied away from asking personal questions, or pressing uninvited offers of assistance and advice, or intervening in private squabbles unless they were asked, or if the squabbles got out of hand and became a problem for everyone. Instead, if they saw a troubling situation developing, they quietly made themselves available and waited with patience and forbearance until a friend was wanted to discuss worries, fears, and frustrations. They were not judgmental or highly critical, and they imposed few restrictions on personal behavior if it did not hurt or seriously disturb others. A solution to a problem was one that worked, and satisfied everyone involved. They were gentle with each other’s souls.
“Mamut …” Ayla began, then realized she didn’t know exactly what she wanted to say. “Ah … I think now is good time to make medicine for arthritis.”
“I would not object,” the old man said, smiling. “I have not had as comfortable a winter in many years. If for no other reason, I am glad you are here, Ayla. Let me put away this knife I won from Jondalar, and I will put myself in your hands.”
“You win knife from Jondalar?”
“Crozie and I were wagering with the knucklebones. He was watching and looked interested, so I invited him to play. He said he would like to, but he had nothing to wager. I told him as long as he had his skill, he always had something, and said I’d bet against a special knife that I wanted to be made in a certain way. He lost. He should know better than to wager against One Who Serves.” Mamut chuckled. “Here’s the knife.”
Ayla nodded. His answer satisfied her curiosity, but she wished someone could tell her why Jondalar didn’t want to talk to her. The group of people who had been admiring Ayla’s red leather hide broke up and left the Mammoth Hearth, except for Rydag, who joined Ayla and Mamut. There was something comforting about watching her treat the old shaman. He settled himself on a corner of the bed platform.
“I will make hot poultice for you first,” she said, and began to mix ingredients in a wooden bowl.
Mamut and Rydag watched her measuring, mixing, heating water. “What do you use in the poultice?” Mamut asked.
“I do not know your words for plants.”
“Describe them to me. Maybe I can tell you. I know a few plants and some remedies; I’ve had to learn some.”
“One plant, grows higher than knee,” Ayla explained, thinking about the plant carefully. “Has big leaves, not bright green, like dust on them. Leaves grow together with stem first, then get big, then come to point at end. Under leaf, soft, like fur. Leaves good for many things, and roots, too, especially broken bones.”
“Comfrey! That must be comfrey. What else is in the poultice?” This is interesting, he thought.
“Other plant, smaller, does not reach knee. Leaves, like small spear point Wymez makes, dark shiny green, stay green in winter. Stem comes up from leaves, has little flowers, light color, small red spots inside. Good for swellings, rash, too,” Ayla said.
Mamut was shaking his head. “Leaves stay green in winter, spotted flowers. I don’t think I know that one. Why not just call it spotted wintergreen.”
Ayla nodded. “Do you want to know other plants?” she asked.
“Yes, go ahead and describe another.”
“Big plant, bigger than Talut, almost tree. Grows on low ground, near rivers. Dark purple berries stay on plant even in winter. Young leaves good to eat, big old ones too strong, can make sick. Dried root in poultice is good for swelling, red swelling, too, and for pain. I put dried berries in tea I make for your arthritis. Do you know name?”
“No, I don’t think so, but as long as you know the plant, I’m satisfied,” Mamut said. “Your remedies for my arthritis have helped, you are good with medicine for elders.”
“Creb was old. He was lame and had pain from arthritis. I learn from Iza how to help. Then I help others in clan.” Ayla paused and looked up from her mixing. “I think Crozie suffer pains of age, too. I want to help. You think she object, Mamut?”
“She doesn’t like to admit to the failings of age. She was a proud beauty in her younger years, but I think you are right. You could ask her, especially if you can think of a way that wouldn’t bruise her pride. That’s all she has left now.”
Ayla nodded. When the preparation was ready, Mamut removed his clothing. “When you are resting, with poultice,” she said, “I have root powder of other plant I want to put on hot coals for you to smell. Will make you sweat, and is good for pain. Then, before you sleep tonight, I have new wash for joints. Apple juice and hot root …”
“You mean horseradish? The root Nezzie uses, with food.”
“I think, yes, with apple juice and Talut’s bouza. Will make skin warm, and inside skin warm, too.”
Mamut laughed. “How did you ever get Talut to let you put his bouza outside on the skin, and not inside?”
Ayla smiled. “He likes ‘magic morning-after medicine.’ I say I will always make for him,” she said while she applied a thick, gummy, hot healing plaster to the old man’s aching joints. He lay back comfortably, and closed his eyes.
“This arm look good,” Ayla commented, working on the arm that had been broken. “I think was bad break.”
“It was a bad break,” Mamut said, opening his eyes again. He glanced at Rydag, who was quietly taking everythi
ng in. Mamut had not spoken of his experience to anyone but Ayla. He paused, then nodded sharply with decision. “It’s time you knew, Rydag. When I was a young man on a Journey, I fell down a cliff and broke my arm. I was dazed, and finally wandered into a Camp of flatheads, people of the Clan. I lived with them for a while.”
“That is why you quick to learn signs!” Rydag smiled. “I thought you very smart.”
“I am very smart, young man,” Mamut said, grinning back, “but I also remembered some of them, once Ayla reminded me.”
Rydag’s smile widened. Except for Nezzie, and the rest of his Lion Hearth family, he loved these two people more than anyone in the world, and he had never been so happy since Ayla came. For the first time in his life, he could talk, he could make people understand him, he could even make someone smile. He watched Ayla working on Mamut, and even he could recognize her thoroughness and knowledge. When Mamut looked in his direction, he signaled, “Ayla is good Healer.”
“The medicine women of the Clan are very skilled; she learned from them. No one could have done a better job on my arm. The skin was scraped, with dirt ground in, and it was torn open with the broken bone poking through. It looked like a piece of meat. The woman, Uba, cleaned it and set it right, and it did not even swell up with pus and fever. I had full use when it healed, and only in these later years have I felt a little ache now and then. Ayla learned from the granddaughter of the woman who fixed my arm. I was told she was considered the best,” Mamut announced, watching Rydag’s reaction. The boy looked at both of them quizzically, wondering how they could know the same people.
“Yes. And Iza was best, like her mother and her grandmother,” Ayla said, finishing up. She hadn’t been paying attention to the silent communication between the boy and the old man. “She knew all her mother knew, had mother’s memories, and grandmother’s memories.”
Ayla moved some stones from the fireplace closer to Mamut’s bed, scooped up a few live coals with two sticks and put them on the stones, then sprinkled powdered honeybloom root on the coals. She went to get covers for Mamut to keep the heat in, but while she was tucking them around him, he got up on one elbow and looked at her thoughtfully.
