The Mammoth Hunters

by Jean M. Auel

  “Ayla! There you are. I was looking for you.”

  She looked up at the sparkling dark eyes and wide flashing smile of the dark-skinned man to whom she was Promised. She smiled back. He was just the one she needed to take her mind off her troubling thoughts. She turned to Mamut to see if he still wanted her. He smiled and told her to go and have a look around the encampment with Ranec.

  “I want you to meet some carvers. Some of them are doing fine work.” Ranec said, leading her with an arm around her waist. “We always have a Camp near the Mammoth Hearth. Not just carvers, other artists, too.”

  He was excited, and Ayla sensed the same exhilaration she felt when she realized Lomie was a Healer. Even though there might be some competition in relation to ability and the status each was accorded, no one understood the nuances of a craft or skill like another person who practiced it. Only with another Healer could she discuss the relative merits of mullein versus wintergreen in the treatment of coughs, for example, and she had missed those kinds of discussions. She had seen how Jondalar, Wymez, and Danug could spend unbelievable amounts of time talking about flint and toolmaking, and she realized that Ranec also enjoyed the contact of others who worked with ivory.

  As they walked across part of the cleared area, Ayla noticed Danug and Druwez with several other young men, smiling and shuffling nervously while talking to a red-footed woman. Danug looked up and saw her and smiled, then made a quick excuse and loped across a few yards of trampled and dried grass to join them. They waited for him to catch up.

  “I saw you talking to Latie, and was going to bring some friends to meet you, Ayla, but we can’t go too close to Giggle-Girl Camp … uh, I mean, uh”—Danug blushed, realizing he had given away the nickname the young men had for the place where they were not allowed.

  “It’s all right, Danug. They do giggle a lot.”

  The tall young man relaxed. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Are you in a hurry? Can you come over and meet them now?”

  Ayla gave Ranec a questioning glance.

  “I war just going to take her to meet some people, too,” Ranec said. “But there is no hurry. We can come over and meet your friends first.”

  As they started back toward the group of young men, Ayla noticed the red-footed woman was still there.

  “I wanted to meet you, Ayla,” the woman said after Danug made the introductions. “Everyone is talking about you, wondering where you came from, and why those animals answer to you. You have given us all a mystery that I’m sure we’ll be talking about for years.” She smiled, and gave Ayla a sly wink. “Take my advice. Don’t tell anyone where you come from. Keep them guessing. It’s more fun.”

  Ranec lauged. “She may be right, Ayla,” he said. “Tell me, Mygie, why are you wearing red feet this year?”

  “After Zacanen and I scattered the hearth, I didn’t want to stay with his Camp, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back to my mother’s Camp, either. This just seemed like the right thing to do. It gives me a place to stay for a while, and if the Mother chooses to give me a child for it, I wouldn’t be sorry. Oh, that reminds me, did you know the Mother gave another woman a baby of your spirit, Ranec? You remember Triefe? Marlie’s daughter? The one who lives here, at Wolf Camp? She chose red feet last year. This year she has a boy. Toralie’s little girl was dark, like you, but not this one. I saw him. He’s very light, with red hair even brighter than hers, but he looks just like you. Same nose and everything. She calls him Ralev.”

  Ayla looked at Ranec with a peculiar smile on her face, and noticed his color deepen. He’s blushing, she thought, but you have to know him well to notice. I’m sure he remembers Tricie.

  “I think we’d better go, Ayla,” Ranec said, putting his arm around her waist as though to urge her back across the clearing. But she resisted a moment.

  “It’s been very interesting to talk to you, Mygie. I hope we talk again,” Ayla said, then turned to Nezzie’s son. “I’m pleased you asked me to come and meet your friends, Danug.” She smiled one of her beautiful, breathtaking smiles at him and Druwez. “And I am happy to have met all of you,” she added, looking at each one of the young men in turn. Then she left with Ranec.

  Danug watched her walking away, then heaved a big sigh. “I wish Ayla was wearing red feet,” he said. He heard several comments of agreement.

  When Ranec and Ayla passed the large lodge, which was surrounded by the clearing on three sides, she heard the sound of drums coming from it, and some other interesting sounds which she had not heard before. She glanced toward the entrance, but it was closed. Just as they were turning into another Camp on the edge of the clearing, someone stepped in their path.

  “Ranec,” a woman said. She was shorter than average, with creamy white skin spattered with freckles. Her eyes, brown flecked with gold and green, sparked with anger. “So you did arrive with the Lion Camp. When you didn’t stop by our lodge to say hello, I thought maybe you had fallen in the river, or got caught in a stampede.” Her tone was venomous.

  “Tricie! I … uh … I was going to … um … we had to set up Camp,” Ranec said. Ayla had never seen the glib, smooth-talking man so tongue-tied, and his face would have been as red as Mygie’s feet, if his brown skin hadn’t hidden it.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Ranec?” Tricie said sarcastically. It was obvious she was upset.

  “Yes,” Ranec said, “I’d like you to meet her. Ayla, this is Tricie, a … a … friend of mine.”

  “I had something to show you, Ranec,” Tricie said, rudely ignoring the introduction, “but I don’t suppose it matters now. Hinted Promises don’t mean much. I suppose this is the woman you will be joined with in the Matrimonial this season.” There was hurt as well as anger in her voice.

  Ayla guessed what the problem was, and sympathized, but was not quite sure how to handle this difficult situation. Then, she stepped forward, and held out both her hands.

  “Tricie, I am Ayla, of the Mamutoi, daughter of the Mammoth Hearth of the Lion Camp, protected by the Cave Lion.”

  The formality of the greeting reminded Tricie that she was the daughter of a headwoman, and Wolf Camp was hosting the Summer Meeting. She did have a responsibility. “In the name of Mut, the Great Mother, Wolf Camp welcomes you, Ayla of the Mamutoi,” she said.

  “I was told your mother is Marlie.”

  “Yes, I am Marlies daughter.”

  “I met her earlier. She is a remarkable woman. I am pleased to meet you.”

  Ayla heard Ranec breathe a sigh of relief. She glanced at him, and over his shoulder, noticed Deegie heading toward the lodge from which she had heard the drumming. On impulse, she decided Ranec should work out his relationship with Tricie alone.

  “Ranec, I see Deegie over there, and there are some things I want to talk to her about. I will come and meet the carvers later,” Ayla said, and quickly left.

  Ranec was stunned by her hurried departure, and suddenly realized he was going to have to face Tricie and make some explanations, whether he wanted to or not. He looked at the pretty young woman standing there waiting, angry and vulnerable. Her red hair, a particularly vibrant shade like none he had ever seen, along with her red feet, had made her doubly appealing last season, and she was an artist, too. He was impressed with the quality of her work. Her baskets were exquisite, and the exceptional mat on his floor came from her hands. But she took her offering to the Mother so seriously she would not even consider an experienced man at first. Her resistance only inflamed his desire for her.

  He hadn’t actually Promised, though. True, he had seriously considered it, and would have if she hadn’t been dedicated. She was the one who had refused a formal Promise, fearing it would anger Mut and cause Her to withdraw Her blessing. Well, Ranec thought, the Mother could not have been too angry if She had drawn from his essence to make Tricie’s baby. He guessed that was what she wanted to show him, that she already had a child to bring to his hearth, and one of his spirit, be
sides. It would have made her irresistible under other circumstances, but he loved Ayla. If he’d had enough to offer, he might have considered asking for them both, but since a choice had to be made, there was no question. Just the thought of living without Ayla put a knot of panic in the pit of his stomach. He wanted her more than any woman he’d ever wanted in his life.

  Ayla called out to Deegie, and when she caught up with her, they walked together.

  “I see you’ve met Tricie,” Deegie said.

  “Yes, but she seemed to need to talk to Ranec, so I was glad I saw you. It gave me the chance to get away and let them be alone,” Ayla said.

  “I don’t doubt she wanted to talk to him. It was all over the Camp last season that they were planning to Promise.”

  “She has a child, you know. A son.”

  “No, I didn’t! I’ve hardly had the chance to say more than hello to people, and no one told me. That’s going to make her worth more and raise her Bride Price. Who told you?”

  “Mygie did, one of the red-foots. She says the boy is of Ranec’s spirit.”

  “That spirit moves around! There are a couple of young ones with his essence. You can’t always tell for sure with the other men whose spirit it is, but you can with him. His coloring comes through,” Deegie said.

  “Mygie said this boy is very light, and red-haired, but looks like Ranec, in the face.”

  “That would be interesting! I think I may have to go to see Tricie later,” Deegie said with a smile. “The daughter of one headwoman ought to pay a visit to the daughter of another headwoman, especially of the host Camp. Do you want to come with me when I go?”

  “I’m not sure … yes, I think I would,” Ayla said.

  They had reached the curved arch entrance of the lodge from which the unusual sounds were coming. “I was going to stop here, at the Music Lodge. I think you might enjoy it,” Deegie said, then scratched on the leather door covering. While they waited for someone to untie it from inside, Ayla glanced around.

  Southeast of the entrance was a fence made of seven skulls of mammoths plus other bones, filled in with hard-packed clay to make it solid. Probably a windbreak, Ayla thought. In the hollow where the settlement was located, the only wind would come from the river valley. On the northeast she counted four huge outdoor hearths and two distinct work areas. One appeared to be for making tools and implements out of ivory and bone, the others must have been primarily concerned with working the flint which was found nearby. Ayla saw Jondalar and Wymez, and several other men and women who were also flint workers, she guessed. She should have known that would be where to find him.

  The drape was pulled back, and Deegie beckoned Ayla to follow her in, but someone at the entrance stopped her.

  “Deegie, you know we don’t let visitors in here,” she said. “We’re practicing.”

  “But, Kylie, she is a daughter of the Mammoth Hearth,” Deegie said, surprised.

  “I don’t see any tattoo. How can she be Mamut without a tattoo?”

  “This is Ayla, daughter of old Mamut. He adopted her to the Mammoth Hearth.”

  “Oh. Just a moment, let me ask.”

  Deegie was impatient while they waited again, but Ayla looked more closely at the lodge, and got the impression that it had slumped, or fallen in somewhat.

  “Why didn’t you tell me she’s the one with the animals?” Kylie said when she came back. “Come in.”

  “You should know I wouldn’t bring anyone here who wasn’t acceptable,” Deegie said.

  It was not dark in the lodge, the smoke hole was somewhat bigger than usual, and allowed light inside, but it did take awhile for eyes to adjust after the bright sunshine outside. At first, Ayla thought the person Deegie was talking to was a child. But when she saw her, Ayla realized she was probably somewhat older, not younger than her tall, stocky friend. The misimpression was caused by the difference in size between the two women. Kylie was small with a slender build, almost dainty, and next to Deegie, it was easy to mistake her for a child, but her lithe, supple movements bespoke the confidence and experience of maturity.

  Though the shelter had seemed large from the outside, there was less room inside than Ayla had imagined. The ceiling was lower than usual, and half the usable space in the room was taken up by four mammoth skulls, which were partially buried in the floor with the tusk sockets upright. The trunks of small trees had been placed in the sockets, and were used as supports to brace the ceiling, which had slumped or fallen in. It struck Ayla, as she looked around, that this lodge was far from new. The wood and the thatching had the grayness of age. There were none of the usual household goods or large cooking hearths to be seen, only one small fireplace. The floor had been swept clean, leaving only dark traces of the former major hearths.

  Ropes had been strung between the supporting uprights, and drapes, which could be used to divide the space, hung from them, bunched up at one end. Thrown over the ropes, or hanging from pegs on the posts, was the most unusual array of objects Ayla had ever seen. Colorful outfits, fantastic and ornate headgear, strings of ivory beads and seashells, pendants of bone and amber, and some things she couldn’t begin to understand.

  There were several people in the lodge. Some were sitting around a small fireplace, sipping from cups; a couple more were in the light streaming in through the smoke hole, sewing garments. To the left of the entrance, several people were sitting or kneeling on mats on the floor near large mammoth bones, decorated with red lines and zigzags. Ayla identified a leg bone, a shoulder blade, two lower jawbones, a pelvis bone, and a skull. They were greeted warmly, but Ayla felt they were interrupting something. Everyone seemed to be looking at them, as though waiting to find out why they had come.

  “Don’t stop practicing for us,” Deegie said. “I brought Ayla to meet you, but we don’t want to interrupt. We’ll wait until you are ready to stop.” The people turned back to their task, while Deegie and Ayla sat down on mats nearby.

  A woman who was kneeling in front of the large femur began tapping out a steady beat with a hammer-shaped section of reindeer antler, but the sounds she was producing were more than rhythmic. As she hit the leg bone in different places, a resonant, melodic sound emerged, which changed in pitch and tone. Ayla looked more closely, wondering what caused the unusual timbre.

  The leg bone was about thirty inches long and rested horizontally on two props that kept it off the ground. The epiphysis at the upper end had been removed, and some of the spongy inner material had been taken out, enlarging the natural canal. The bone was painted across the top with evenly spaced zigzag stripes in dark ochre red, similar to the patterns found so frequently on everything from footwear to house construction, but these seemed to serve more than a decorative or symbolic function. After watching for a while, Ayla felt sure the woman who was playing the leg-bone instrument was using the pattern of stripes as a guide to where she should strike to produce the tone she wanted.

  Ayla had heard skull drums and Tornec’s scapula played. All had some tonal variation, but she had never heard such a range of musical tones before. These people seemed to think she had some magical gifts, but this seemed more magical than anything she had ever done. A man began to tap on the mammoth shoulder blade like Tornec’s with an antler hammer. The timbre and tone had a different resonance, a sharper quality, yet the sound complemented and added interest to the music that the woman played on the leg bone.

  The large triangular-shaped scapula was about twenty-five inches long, with a narrow neck at the top, broadening out to about twenty inches along the bottom edge. He held the instrument by the neck, upright, in a vertical position, with the wide bottom resting on the ground. It was also painted with parallel, zigzag stripes in bright red. Each stripe, about the width of a small finger, was divided by spaces of equal width, and each one had a perfectly straight and even edge. In the center of the broad lower area most frequently struck, the red pattern of stripes was worn away and the bone was shiny from long, repeated use. />
  When the rest of the mammoth bone instruments joined in, Ayla held her breath. At first she could only listen, overwhelmed by the complex sound of the music, but after a while she concentrated on each one individually.

  An older man played the larger of the lower jawbones, but rather than an antler hammer, he used an end piece of mammoth tusk, about twelve inches long, grooved around to make a knob at the thicker end. The mandible itself was painted, like the other instruments, but only on the right half. It was turned and rested steady, supported by the left undecorated side, which kept the right playing half off the ground for a clear, undamped sound. While playing it, he tapped along the parallel zigzag red bands that were painted within the hollow as well as along the outer edge of the cheek, and he rubbed the piece of ivory over the ridged surface of the tooth, to create a rasping accent.

  A woman played the other jawbone, which was from a younger animal. It was twenty inches long, and fifteen inches across at its widest part, and was also painted with red zigzag stripes on the right side. A deep hole, about two inches wide by five inches long, where a tooth had been removed, altered the resonance and emphasized the higher-pitched tone.

  The woman who played the pelvic-bone instrument also held it upright, resting one edge on the ground. She tapped, with an antler hammer, mostly in the center of the bone where a small natural inward curvature was found. The sounds were intensified and the changes in tone distinct at that place, and the red stripes painted there were almost entirely worn away.

  Ayla was familiar with the strong, resonant, lower tones of the mammoth skull drum played by a young man. It was like the drums played by Deegie and Mamut with such skill. The drum was also painted where it was struck, on the forehead and roof of the skull, but in this case it did not have zigzag lines, but a distinctly different pattern of branched lines and disconnected marks and dots.