by Jean M. Auel
As Frebec stepped forward and took the Speaking Staff from Talut, Ayla noticed Crozie out of the corner of her eye, with a gloating smirk on her face. Certainly the old woman was at least partially to blame for Frebec’s actions, but was that all? There had to be more to it. Ayla looked for Fralie, but didn’t see her among the people gathered in the Mammoth Hearth. Then she noticed the pregnant woman watching from the edge of the Crane Hearth.
Frebec cleared his throat a few times, then, shifting his hold on the ivory shaft and grasping firmly, he began. “Yes, I do have a problem.” He looked around nervously, then scowling, he stood up straighter. “I mean, we have a problem, the Crane Hearth. There is not enough space. We have no room to work, it is the smallest hearth in the lodge …”
“It is not the smallest. Theirs is bigger than ours!” Tronie spoke out, unable to restrain herself.
Tulie fixed her with a stern eye. “You will have a chance to speak, Tronie, when Frebec is through.”
Tronie blushed and mumbled apologies. Her embarrassment seemed to give Frebec encouragement. His stance became more aggressive.
“We don’t have enough room now, Fralie doesn’t have enough room to work, and … and Crozie needs more space. And soon there will be another person. I think we should have more room.” Frebec gave the Staff back to Talut and stepped back.
“Tronie, you may speak now,” Talut said.
“I don’t think … I was just … well, maybe I will,” she said, stepping forward to take the Staff. “We don’t have any more room than the Crane Hearth, and we have just as many people.” Then she added, trying to enlist Talut’s assistance, “I think even the Lion Hearth is smaller …”
“That is not important, Tronie,” Talut said. “The Lion Hearth isn’t asking for space and we are not close enough to the Crane Hearth to be affected by Frebec’s desire for more room. You, at the Reindeer Hearth, do have a right to speak up since changes in the Crane Hearth are more likely to cause changes in your space. Is there anything else you want to say?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tronie said, shaking her head, as she handed him the Staff.
“Anyone else?”
Jondalar wished he could say something that would help, but he was an outsider and felt it wasn’t his place to intrude. He wanted to be by Ayla’s side, and was even more sorry now that he had moved his sleeping place. He was almost glad when Ranec stepped up and took the ivory shaft. Somebody needed to speak for her.
“It’s not terribly important, but Frebec is exaggerating. I can’t say whether or not they need more space, but the Crane Hearth is not the smallest hearth in the lodge. The Fox Hearth has that honor. But we are only two, and we are content.”
There were murmurs, and Frebec glared at the carver. There had never been much understanding between the two men. Ranec had always felt they had little in common, and tended to ignore him. Frebec took it as disdain, and there was some truth to the feeling. Particularly since he had begun making disparaging remarks to Ayla, Ranec found little of worth in Frebec.
Talut, attempting to forestall another general argument, raised his voice and addressed Frebec. “How do you think the space in the lodge ought to be changed to give you more room?” He gave the long ivory pole to the man.
“I never said I wanted to take any space from the Reindeer Hearth, but it seems to me that if some people have space for animals, they have more room than they need. A whole annex was added to the lodge for the horses, but no one seems to care that we will soon be adding another person. Maybe things could be … moved over,” Frebec finished lamely. He was not happy to see Mamut reach for the Speaking Staff.
“Are you suggesting that in order to make more room at the Crane Hearth, the Reindeer Hearth should move into the Mammoth Hearth? That would be a great inconvenience for them. As for Fralie coming here to work, you are not suggesting that she confine herself to the Crane Hearth, are you? It would be unhealthy, and deprive her of the companionship she finds here. This is where she is supposed to bring her projects. This hearth is meant to accommodate work that takes more room than there is in anyone’s personal hearth. The Mammoth Hearth belongs to everyone and it is almost too small for gatherings now.”
When Mamut turned the Speaking Staff back to Talut, Frebec looked chastened, but he bristled defensively when Ranec took it again.
“As for the horse annex, we will all benefit from that space, especially after storage cellars are dug. Even now, it has become a convenient entrance for many people. I notice you keep your outer clothes in there, and use it more often than the front way, Frebec,” Ranec said. “Besides, babies are small. They don’t take much space. I don’t think you need more room.”
“How would you know?” Crozie interjected. “You’ve never had one born to your hearth. Babies do take room, a lot more than you think.”
Only after she said it did Crozie realize that for the first time she had sided with Frebec. She frowned, then decided maybe he was right. Maybe they did need more room. It was true that the Mammoth Hearth was a gathering place, but it did seem to accord Ayla greater status because she lived at such a large hearth. Though everyone had considered it theirs when Mamut had lived there alone, now, except for ceremonial gatherings, everyone treated it as though it were Ayla’s. A larger space for the Crane Hearth might increase the status of its members.
Everyone seemed to take Crozie’s interruption as a signal for general comment, and with a knowing look passing between them, Talut and Tulie allowed the outburst to run its course. Sometimes people needed to speak their minds. During the interruption, Tulie caught Barzec’s eye and after things quieted down, he stepped forward and requested the Staff. Tulie nodded agreement, as though she knew what he was going to say although they had not spoken to each other.
“Crozie is right,” he said, nodding toward her. She stood up straighter, accepting the acknowledgment, and her opinion of Barzec rose. “Babies do take room, much more room than one would think from their size. Perhaps it is time for some changes, but I don’t think the Mammoth Hearth should give up space. The needs of the Crane Hearth are growing, but the needs of the Aurochs Hearth are less. Tarneg has gone to live at the Camp of his woman, and soon he will be starting a new Camp with Deegie. Then she will be gone, too. Therefore, the Hearth of the Aurochs, understanding the needs of a growing family, will give up some space to the Hearth of the Crane.”
“Is that satisfactory to you, Frebec?” Talut asked.
“Yes,” Frebec replied, hardly knowing how to respond to this unexpected turn of events.
“Then I will leave it to you to work out together how much space will be given by the Aurochs Hearth, but I think it is only fair that no changes be made until after Fralie has her baby. Do you agree?”
Frebec nodded, still overwhelmed. At his former Camp, he wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for more space; if he had, he would have been laughed at. He didn’t have the prerogative, the status, to make such requests. When the argument with Crozie began, space wasn’t on his mind at all. He had just been groping for some way to respond to her stinging, though true, accusations. Now, he was convincing himself that lack of space had been the reason all along for the argument, and for once, she had taken his side. He felt the thrill of success. He had won a battle. Two battles: one with the Camp, one with Crozie. As the people dispersed, he saw Barzec talking with Tulie, and it occurred to him that he owed them thanks.
“I appreciate your understanding,” Frebec said to the headwoman and the man of the Aurochs Hearth.
Barzec made the customary disclaimers, but they would not have been pleased if Frebec had failed to acknowledge the accommodation made to him. They knew full well the value of their concession went far beyond a few feet of space. It announced that the Crane Hearth had the status to merit such a grant from the hearth of the headwoman, though it was the status of Crozie and Fralie that they had in mind when Tulie and Barzec had previously discussed a shift in boundary between themselves. The
y had already anticipated the changing needs of the two families. Barzec had even considered bringing up the issue earlier, but Tulie suggested they wait for a more appropriate moment, perhaps as a gift for the baby.
They both knew this was the moment. It had taken no more than looks and nods to signal each other. And since Frebec had just won a nominal victory, the Crane Hearth was bound to be conciliatory about adjusting the boundary. Barzec had just been remarking with pride how wise Tulie was when Frebec approached to make his thanks. As Frebec walked back to the Crane Hearth, he savored the incident, tallying up the points he felt he had won, just as though it had been one of the games the Camp liked to play, and he was counting his winnings.
In a very real sense, it was a game, the very subtle and entirely serious game of comparative rank which is played by all social animals. It is the method by which individuals arrange themselves—horses in a herd, wolves in a pack, people in a community—so that they can live together. The game pits two opposing forces against each other, both equally important to survival: individual autonomy and community welfare. The object is to achieve dynamic equilibrium.
At times and under certain conditions individuals can be nearly autonomous. An individual can live alone and have no worry about rank, but no species can survive without interaction between individuals. The ultimate price would be more final than death. It would be extinction. On the other hand, complete individual subordination to the group is just as devastating. Life is neither static nor unchanging. With no individuality, there can be no change, no adaptation and, in an inherently changing world, any species unable to adapt is also doomed.
Humans in a community, whether it is as small as two people or as large as the world, and no matter what form the society takes, will arrange themselves according to some hierarchy. Commonly understood courtesies and customs can help to smooth the friction and ease the stress of maintaining a workable balance within this constantly changing system. In some situations most individuals will not have to compromise much of their personal independence for the welfare of the community. In others, the needs of the community may demand the utmost personal sacrifice of the individual, even to life itself. Neither is more right than the other, it depends on the circumstances; but neither extreme can be maintained for long, nor can a society last if a few people exercise their individuality at the expense of the community.
Ayla often found herself comparing Clan society with that of the Mamutoi, and began to get a glimmer of this principle as she thought about the different styles of leadership of Brun and the Lion Camp’s headman and headwoman. She saw Talut return the Speaking Staff to its customary place and recalled that when she first arrived at the Mamutoi Camp, she thought that Brun was a better leader than Talut. Brun would have simply made a decision and the others would have followed his order, whether they liked it or not. Not many would even consider questioning whether they liked it or not. Brun never had to argue or shout. A sharp look or a curt command brought instant attention. It had seemed to her that Talut had no control over the noisy, contentious people, and that they had no respect for him.
Now she wasn’t so sure. It seemed to her that it was more difficult to lead a group of people who believed everyone, woman and man, had the right to speak out and be listened to. She still thought Brun had been a good leader for his society, but she wondered if he could have led these people who aired their views so freely. It could become very loud and noisy when everyone had an opinion and did not hesitate to make it known, but Talut never allowed it to go beyond certain bounds. Though he was certainly strong enough to have forced his will on people, he chose to lead by consensus and accommodation instead. He had certain sanctions and beliefs to call upon, and techniques of his own to get attention, but it took a different kind of strength to persuade rather than coerce. Talut gained respect by giving respect.
As Ayla walked toward a knot of people standing near the firepit, she glanced around the hearth looking for the wolf puppy. It was a subliminal gesture, and when she didn’t see him she assumed he had found some place to hide during the commotion.
“ … Frebec certainly got his way,” Tornec was saying, “thanks to Tulie and Barzec.”
“For Fralie’s sake, I’m glad,” Tronie said, relieved to know the Reindeer Hearth would not be pushed over or squeezed. “I just hope it will keep Frebec quiet for a while. He really started a big fight this time.”
“I don’t like big fights like that,” Ayla said, remembering that the fight had started over Frebec’s complaint that her animals had more room than he did.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Ranec said. “It’s been a long winter. Something like that happens around this time every year. It’s just a little diversion to create some excitement.”
“But he wouldn’t have had to make such a fuss to get more room,” Deegie said. “I heard mother and Barzec talking about it long before he brought it up. They were going to give space to the Crane Hearth as a gift for Fralie’s baby. All Frebec needed to do was ask.”
“That’s why Tulie is such a good headwoman,” Tronie said. “She thinks of things like that.”
“She is good, and so is Talut,” Ayla said.
“Yes, he is.” Deegie smiled. “That’s why he is still headman. No one stays leader for long if he can’t command the respect of his people. I think Branag will be as good. He had Talut to learn from.” The warm feelings between Deegie and her mother’s brother went deeper than the formal avuncular relationship that, along with the status and inheritance from her mother, assured the young woman of a high standing among the Mamutoi.
“But who would become leader instead, if Talut didn’t have respect?” Ayla asked. “And how?”
“Well … ah …” Deegie began. Then the young people turned to Mamut to answer her question.
“If it is the old former leaders turning over active leadership to a younger brother and sister, who have been selected—usually relatives—there is a period of learning, then a ceremony, then the older leaders become advisers,” the shaman and teacher said.
“Yes. That’s what Brun did. When he was younger, he respected old Zoug and paid attention to his advice, and when he got older, he turned the leadership over to Broud, the son of his mate. But what happens if a Camp loses respect for a leader? A young leader?” Ayla asked, very interested.
“The change would not happen quickly,” Mamut said, “but people just would not turn to him after a while. They would go to someone else, someone who could lead a more successful hunt, or handle problems better. Sometimes the leadership is relinquished, sometimes a Camp just breaks up, with some going with the new leader, and some staying with the old. But leaders don’t usually give up their positions or authority easily, and that can cause problems, even fights. Then the decision would get turned over to the Councils. The headman or headwoman who has shared leadership with someone who causes trouble, or is held responsible for a problem, is seldom able to start up a new Camp, though it may not be her”—Mamut hesitated, and Ayla noticed that his eyes darted toward the old woman of the Crane Hearth, who was talking to Nezzie—“that person’s fault. People want leaders they can depend on, and distrust those who have had problems … or tragedies.”
Ayla nodded, and Mamut knew she understood, both what he had said and what he had implied. The conversation continued, but Ayla’s mind had wandered back to the Clan. Brun had been a good leader, but what would his clan do if Broud was not? She wondered if they would turn to a new leader, and who it might be. It would be a long time before the son of Broud’s mate was old enough. A persistent worry that had been nagging for her attention suddenly broke through.
“Where’s Wolf?” she said.
She hadn’t seen him since the argument, and no one else had either. Everyone started looking. Ayla searched her bed platform, and then every other corner of the hearth, even the curtained-off area with the basket of ashes and horse dung, which she had shown the pup. She was beginning to feel the sa
me panic that a mother feels when her child is missing.
“Here he is, Ayla!” she heard Tornec say, with relief, but she felt her stomach churn when he added, “Frebec has him.” Her surprise bordered on shock as she watched him approach. She was not the only one who stared in amazed disbelief.
Frebec, who never overlooked an opportunity to derogate Ayla’s animals, or her, for her association with them, was cradling the wolf puppy gently in his arms. He handed the wolf over to her, but she noticed a moment of hesitation, as though he gave up the small creature reluctantly, and she saw a softer look in his eyes than she had ever seen there before.
“He must have gotten scared,” Frebec explained. “Fralie said suddenly he was there, at the hearth, whining. She didn’t know where he came from. Most of the children were there, too, and Crisavec picked him up and put him on a storage platform, near the head of his bed. But there’s a deep niche in the wall there. It goes quite a way into the hillside. The wolf found it, and crawled all the way to the back, and then he wouldn’t come out.”
“It must have reminded him of his den,” Ayla said.
“That’s what Fralie said. It was too hard for her to go and get him, as big as she is, and I think she was afraid after hearing Deegie tell about you going into a wolf den. She didn’t want Crisavec to go in after him, either. When I got there, I had to go in and get him out.” Frebec paused then, and when he continued, Ayla heard a note of wonder in his voice. “When I reached him, he was so glad to see me, he licked me all over the face. I tried to get him to stop.”
Frebec assumed a more detached and unconcerned manner to cover up the fact that he was obviously moved by the naturally winning ways of the frightened baby wolf. “But when I put him down, he cried and cried until I picked him up again.” Several people had gathered around by then. “I don’t know why he picked the Crane Hearth, or me, to run to when he was looking for a safe place.”
