by Jean M. Auel
“What is wrong with you? How can you call Rydag an animal? Are you blind?” Ayla said with barely restrained fury. Several people stopped to see what was going on. “Can’t you see he understands every word you say? How can you be so cruel? Do you feel no shame?”
“Why should my son feel shame?” a woman said, coming to her youngster’s defense. “That flathead is an animal, and shouldn’t be allowed at ceremonies that are sacred to the Mother.”
Several more people were crowding around now, including most of the Lion Camp. “Ayla, don’t pay attention to them,” Nezzie said, trying to cool her rage.
“Animal! How dare you say he’s an animal! Rydag is just as much a person as you are,” Ayla cried, turning on the woman.
“I don’t have to be insulted like that,” the woman said. “I’m no flathead woman.”
“No, you aren’t! She would be more human than you are. She would have more compassion, more understanding.”
“How do you know so much?”
“No one knows better than I. They took me in, raised me when I lost my people and had no one else. I would have died if it hadn’t been for the compassion of a woman of the Clan,” Ayla said. “I was proud to be a woman of the Clan, and a mother.”
“No! Ayla don’t!” she heard Jondalar saying, but she was past all caring.
“They are human, and so is Rydag. I know, because I have a son like him.”
“Oh, no.” Jondalar cringed, as he pushed his way forward to stand beside her.
“Did she say she had a son like him?” a man said. “A son of mixed spirits?”
“I’m afraid you’ve done it now, Ayla,” Jondalar said quietly.
“She mothered an abomination? You better get away from her.” A man came forward to the woman who had been arguing with Ayla. “If she draws that kind of spirit to her, it might get inside some other women, too.”
“That’s right! You better get away from her, too,” another man said to the obviously pregnant woman standing beside him, as he led her away. Other people were drawing back, their expressions full of repugnance and fear.
“Clan?” one of the musicians said. “Those rhythms she played, didn’t she say they were Clan rhythms? Is that who she meant? Flatheads?”
As Ayla looked around, she felt a moment of panic, and an urge to run from all these people who were looking at her with such disgust. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, lifted her chin and stood her ground defiantly. What right did they have to say her son was less than human? From the corner of her eye she saw Jondalar standing beside, and just behind her, and was more grateful than she could say.
Then, on her other side, another man stepped forward. She turned and smiled at Mamut, and Ranec as well. Then Nezzie was standing with her, and Talut, and then, of all people, Frebec. Almost as one, the rest of the Lion Camp stood beside her.
“You are wrong,” Mamut said to the throng, in the voice that seemed too powerful to come from one so old. “Flat-heads are not animals. They are people, and children of the Mother as much as you are. I, too, lived with them for a time, and hunted with them. Their medicine woman healed my arm, and I learned my way to the Mother through them. The Mother does not mix spirits, there are no horse-wolves, or lion-deer. The people of the Clan are different, but the difference is insignificant. No children like Rydag, or Ayla’s son, could be born if they were not human, too. They are not abominations. They are simply children.”
“I don’t care what you say, old Mamut,” the pregnant woman said. “I don’t want a flathead child or a mixed one. If she already had one, that spirit may linger around her.”
“Woman, Ayla is no threat to you,” the old shaman replied. “The spirit that was chosen for your child is already there. It cannot be changed now. It was not Ayla’s doing that gave her baby the spirit of a flathead man, she did not draw that spirit to her. It was the Mother’s choice. You must remember, a man’s spirit never lingers far from the man himself. Ayla grew up with the Clan. She became a woman while she lived with them. When Mut decided to give her a child, She could only choose from the men who were nearby, and they were all men of the Clan. Of course the spirit of one of them was chosen to enter her, but you don’t see any men of the Clan around here now, do you?”
“Old Mamut, what if there were some flathead men nearby?” a woman shouted out from the crowd.
“I believe they would have to be very close, even share the same hearth, before that spirit would be chosen. The people of the Clan are human, but there are some differences. While life is better than no life to the Mother, which is why Ayla was given a child when she wanted one, it is not easy to blend the two. With so many Mamutoi men around, one of them would be chosen first.”
“That’s what you say, old man,” another voice called out. “I’m not so sure it’s true. I’m keeping my woman away from her.”
“No wonder she’s so good with animals, she grew up with them.” Ayla turned and saw that it was Chaleg who was talking.
“Does that mean their magic is stronger than ours?” Frebec replied. There was some uneasy shuffling in the crowd.
“I’ve heard her say it’s not magic. She says anyone can do it.” Frebec recognized the voice of the Mamut of Chaleg’s Camp.
“Then why hasn’t anyone done it before?” Frebec said. “You are Mamut. If anyone can do it, let me see you go out and ride back on a horse. Why don’t you bring a wolf under your control? I’ve seen Ayla whistle birds down out of the sky.”
“Why are you standing up for her, Frebec, against your own family, your own Camp?” Chaleg asked.
“What Camp is my Camp? The one that turned me out, or the one that took me in? My hearth is the Hearth of the Crane, my Camp is Lion Camp. Ayla lived near us all winter. Ayla was there when Bectie was born, and she is not mixed. The daughter of my hearth would not even be here now, if it hadn’t been for Ayla.”
Jondalar listened to Frebec with a lump in his throat. In spite of what he said, it took real courage to face down his own cousin, his own relatives, the Camp of his birth. Jondalar could hardly believe this was the same man who had been such a big troublemaker. He had been so quick to condemn Frebec in the beginning, yet who was the one who had felt embarrassed for Ayla? Who was the one who feared what people would say if she said anything about her background? Who was the one that was afraid he would be rejected by his family and his people if he stood up for her? Frebec had shown him what a coward he was. Frebec, and Ayla.
When he’d seen her swallow down her fear, and lift her chin to face them all, he had never felt more proud of anyone in his life. Then the Lion Camp stood up with her, and he could hardly believe it. The ones that counted were the ones that cared. Jondalar forgot as he thought about Ayla and the Lion Camp with praise and pride, that he had been the first one to rush to her side.
34
The Lion Camp returned to Cattail Camp to discuss the unexpected crisis. An initial suggestion to leave immediately was quickly abandoned. They were, after all, Mamutoi, and this was the Summer Meeting. Tulie had stopped by for Latie so that she could be included in the discussions, and pre pared for the possibility of unkind comments directed at her, Ayla, or the Lion Camp. She was asked if she wanted to delay her womanhood rites. Latie defended Ayla vehemently, and decided she would return to the special Camp for the ceremony and ritual, and just let anyone try to say anything bad about Ayla, or the Lion Camp.
Then Tulie asked Ayla why she hadn’t mentioned her son before. Ayla explained she didn’t like to talk about him because it still hurt too much, and Nezzie quickly made it clear that she had been told in the very beginning. Mamut also admitted to knowing about him. Though the headwoman wished she had known and wondered why she was not told, she did not blame Ayla. She considered whether she would have thought about the young woman any differently, had she known, and admitted she might not have credited her with as much potential value or status. Then she began to question her position. Why should it make
a difference? Was Ayla any different?
Rydag was very upset and depressed, and nothing Nezzie said or did seemed to help. He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t go out of the tent, wouldn’t communicate except to respond to a direct question. He would only sit and hug the wolf. Nezzie was grateful for the animal’s patience. Ayla decided to see if there was anything she could do. She found him sitting with the wolf on his sleeping roll in a dark corner. Wolf lifted his head, and banged his tail on the ground at her approach.
“Is it all right if I sit down here with you, Rydag?” she asked.
He shrugged an assent. She sat beside him and asked how he felt, speaking aloud to him, but automatically signing the words, too, until she realized it was probably too dark to see. It struck her then, the real advantage to being able to speak with words. It wasn’t that you couldn’t speak as well with signals and hand signs, it was that you weren’t limited by only what you could see.
It was like the difference between thrusting with a spear when hunting, like the Clan did, or throwing it. Both were effective weapons for bringing meat home, but one had greater range and possibilities. She had seen how useful motions and signs, which were not understood by everyone, could be, particularly for secret or private communication, but overall, there was a greater advantage in speaking with words that could be heard and understood. With a full verbal language, you could speak to someone who was behind a barrier, or in a different room, or even shout across a distance, or to a large group. You could speak when someone’s back was turned, or when you were holding something, which freed the hands for other purposes, and you could speak softly in the dark.
Ayla sat quietly with the boy for some time, not asking questions, just offering closeness and company. After a while, she started talking to him, telling Rydag about the time she lived with the Clan.
“In some ways, this Meeting reminds me of the Clan Gathering,” Ayla said. “Here, even if I look the same as everyone, I feel different. There, I was different … taller than any of the men by then … just a big ugly woman. It was awful when we first got there. They almost weren’t going to let Brun’s clan stay because they brought me. They said I wasn’t Clan, but Creb insisted that I was. He was the Mog-ur, and they didn’t dare dispute him. It’s a good thing Durc was only a baby. When they saw him, they thought he was deformed, and they all stared. You know how it feels. But he wasn’t deformed. He was just a mixture, like you are. Or maybe you are more like Ura. Her mother was Clan.”
“You say before, Ura will join with Durc?” Rydag asked, turning toward the light from the fire to make his motions seen. He was intrigued in spite of himself.
“Yes. Her mother came to me, and it was arranged. She was so relieved to know there was another child, a boy, like her daughter. She was so afraid Ura would never find a mate. To be honest, I didn’t think about it much. I was just grateful that Durc was accepted into the Clan.”
“Durc is Clan? He is mixed, but Clan?” the boy signed.
“Yes, Brun accepted him, Creb named him. Not even Broud can take that away from him. And everyone loves him—except Broud—even Oga, Broud’s mate. She nursed him, when I lost my milk, right along with her son, Grev. They grew up together like brothers, and they are good friends. Old Grod made Durc a little spear, just his size.” Ayla smiled at the memory. “Uba loves him best, though. Uba is my sister, like you and Rugie. She is Durc’s mother now. I gave him to Uba when Broud made me leave. He may look a little different, but yes, Durc is Clan.”
“I hate it here,” Rydag motioned with vehement anger. “I wish I am Durc and live with Clan.”
Rydag’s comment startled Ayla. Even after they talked more, and she finally convinced him to eat something, and then tucked him into his bed, it stayed on her mind.
Ranec watched Ayla all evening. He noticed how she would stop in the middle of some activity, like lifting a bite of food to her mouth, for example, while her eyes glazed over with a faraway look, or a frown of concentration creased her forehead. He knew her thoughts were weighing heavily on her mind, and he wanted so much to comfort her, share them with her.
Everyone stayed at Cattail Camp that night, and the tent was crowded. Ranec waited until Ayla finally started to slide into her fur bedroll, then he quickly went to his.
“Will you share my furs tonight, Ayla?” Ranec watched her close her eyes and frown. “I don’t mean for Pleasures,” he added quickly, “unless you want to. I know this has been a hard day for you …”
“I think it’s been harder for Lion Camp,” Ayla said.
“I don’t think it’s been any harder, but that doesn’t matter. I just want to give you something, Ayla. My furs to keep you warm, my love to comfort you. I want to be close to you tonight.”
She nodded acquiescence, and slid into Ranec’s bedroll with him, but she could not sleep, could not even rest comfortably, and he was aware of it.
“Ayla, what’s troubling you? Would you like to talk about it?” Ranec said.
“I’ve been thinking about Rydag, and my son, but I don’t know if I can talk about it. I just need to think about it.”
“You’d rather be in your own bed, wouldn’t you?” he finally said.
“I know you want to help, Ranec, and that in itself helps more than I can say. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me when I saw you there, standing beside me. I am so grateful to the Lion Camp, too. Everyone has been so good, so wonderful to me, almost too wonderful. I learned so much from them, and I was so proud to be Mamutoi, to say they were my people. I thought all the Others—the ones I used to call the Others—were like the Lion Camp, but now I know that isn’t true. Like the Clan, most people are good people, but not everyone, and even good people are not good about everything. I had some ideas and … I was making some plans … but, I need to think, now.”
“And you can think better in your own bed, not cramped in here with me. Go ahead, Ayla, you’ll still be next to me,” Ranec said.
Ranec wasn’t the only one who had been watching Ayla, and when Jondalar saw her get out of Ranec’s bedroll and into her own, he had a strange set of mixed feelings. He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to grit his teeth against the sounds of them sharing Pleasures, but he felt a pang of regret for Ranec. If he had been in the dark carver’s place, he would have wanted to hold Ayla, and comfort her, try to take on some of her pain. It would have hurt him if she had left his bed to sleep alone.
After Ranec fell asleep and a deep stillness settled on the Camp, Ayla quietly got up, slipped on a light parka against the nighttime chill, and went outside into the dark starlit night. In a moment, Wolf was beside her. They walked toward the horse lean-to, and were welcomed by a nicker from Racer, and a soft blow of recognition from Whinney. After patting and scratching, and quiet words, Ayla put her arms around Whinney’s neck, and leaned on her.
How many times had the hay-colored mare been her friend when she needed one? Ayla smiled. What would the Clan think of her friends? Two horses and a wolf! She was grateful for their presence, their company, but there was still an emptiness inside her. Someone was missing, the one she wanted most. Yet he had been there. Even before the Lion Camp stood up for her. She didn’t even know where he came from. Suddenly Jondalar was just there, beside her, standing against them all. Against their repugnance, their disgust. It had been terrible, worse than the Clan Gathering. It wasn’t just that she was different. They feared her, hated her. That’s what he’d been trying to tell her all along. But even if she’d known, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She couldn’t let them pick on Rydag, or malign her son.
From the opening of the tent, another pair of eyes watched her. Jondalar could not sleep either. He had seen her get up, and quietly followed her. How many times had he seen her like that with Whinney? He was happy that she had the animals to turn to, but he ached to be in the mare’s place. But it was too late. She didn’t want him, and he couldn’t blame her. With a sudden realization, he saw through his emotional confusion
, saw his actions with a new clarity, and realized that he had done it himself. In the very beginning, he wasn’t just being “fair” and letting her make her own choice. He had turned away from her, out of petty jealousy. He was hurt, and wanted to hurt back.
There was more to it than that, admit it, Jondalar, he said to himself. You were hurt, but you knew how she was raised. She didn’t even understand your jealousy. When she went to Ranec’s bed that night, she was only being a “good Clan woman.” That was the real problem, her Clan background. You were ashamed of it. You were ashamed to love her, afraid you would have to face what she faced today. You didn’t know if you could stand up for her. No matter how much you said you loved her, you were afraid you’d turn against her, too. Well, there is no shame in loving her, the shame is in your own cowardice. And now it’s too late. She didn’t need you. She stood up for herself, and then the whole Lion Camp stood up for her. She doesn’t need you at all, and you don’t deserve her.
Finally the chill drove Ayla back in. She glanced toward Jondalar’s sleeping place when she entered the tent. He was rolled over on his side, facing the other way. She slipped into her bed, and felt a heavy, sleeping hand reach for her. Ranec did love her, she knew that. And she loved him, too, in her own way. She lay still, and listened to Ranec’s steady breathing. After a while he rolled the other way and the hand was gone.
Ayla tried to sleep, but she couldn’t stop thinking. She had wanted to go for Durc and bring him back to Lion Camp to live with her. Now she questioned if that would be best for him. Would he be happier here with her than he would be living with the Clan? Could he be happy living with people who would hate him? Who would call him a flathead and worse, a half-animal abomination? With the Clan, he was known, and loved; he was one of them. Maybe Broud hated him, but even at the Clan Gathering, he would have friends. He was accepted, he would be allowed to join in the competitions, and the ceremonies—did Durc have the Clan memories? she wondered.
