‘Itsaso!’ they all cried out at once.
‘He’ll hear you!’
‘Are you mad?’
‘Itsaso, Zigor is Go-Between!’
‘Zigor could strike you dead if he wanted to!’
‘If I tell my uncle . . .’
‘If you tell your uncle on her, Zorioné, we’ll do you!’ I was startled to hear Osané sound so fierce. ‘D’you hear?’
‘Forget she ever said it! Itsaso, make the sign!’
Itsaso looked defiant, but even so she made the sign. The others breathed a sigh of relief. ‘But,’ Itsaso said, ‘what I’m still telling you is my aunt Nekané is Go-Between, and even if she can’t speak to the Animals about the Hunt, she can speak to them about anything else if she wants to. What’s more, she already has!’
I was pleased by Itsaso’s loyalty to my mother, but also surprised. Itsaso and Nekané didn’t like each other much. They were too alike. Later I understood how People in a family almost always stick up for each other at the Gathering even if they’re not getting on by themselves. That’s why things have to be really bad before a family brings its silly grievances to the Go-Between in front of everyone. I’ve always thought it was stupid to let things get to that state. All that happens is that everyone mocks you, and they tell stories and laugh about it for ever after. And the Go-Between asks horrible questions and shouts insults at you all. It always turns out to be everyone’s fault anyway. No one goes away feeling as if they’d been right. I reckon that if I ever had trouble with my own family I’d just go with some cousins instead and not make a big fuss about it. In fact that’s what Itsaso did in the end, and she and her mother get on quite well when they meet now.
‘How has she spoken to the Animals?’ demanded Zorioné. ‘What did she do? Haizea, what did your mother do?’
I didn’t want to talk to them about my mother, and still less about my brother. I’d answered enough questions about Bakar when we’d arrived at the Gathering. But now I didn’t have to: Itsaso told them – even though she’d not been there – what had happened at River Mouth Camp, and how Nekané had found her Helpers, and how at White Beach Camp her Helpers had told her that Kemen was a good man. ‘And he’s been with us ever since,’ finished Itsaso. ‘And it’s true. He’s all right.’
‘How can you be sure? Anyway, he’ll have to come before the Gathering.’
‘My uncle Zigor will find out if he’s bringing any bad spirits.’
‘Your uncle—’
‘My mother says,’ Osané interrupted, ‘that there is a bad spirit, because Kemen came just after your brother was lost, and that means—’
‘It doesn’t!’ cried Itsaso. ‘Nekané would have known if it did!’
‘Well, it’ll still have to come to the Gathering,’ declared Osané. ‘I’m not saying my mother is right. She usually isn’t. I’m just telling you what they’re saying.’
‘What do you mean, “she usually isn’t”?’ I was glad Itsaso had asked; it was a new idea to me that anyone would think her mother was usually wrong.
‘Oh,’ Osané sighed. Then she sat up so quickly her branch shook and she had to grab hold. ‘I hate my mother!’ she burst out. ‘She just does everything my father tells her – she lets him tell her that I . . . But she’s wrong!’
‘So? Why should you care? You’re a woman; she can’t make you do anything.’
‘Is that what you think? Itsaso, you don’t know anything! You just think with your belly! And that’s so stuffed up with your feast – which you keep going on about as if most of us here hadn’t had one too – it’s not telling you anything at all!’
‘All right, all right,’ said Itsaso, too curious to argue. ‘So what’s your mother doing to you?’
Edur, you may not want to hear what I’m going to tell next, but it’s the truth.
‘You know Edur?’
‘Him!’
‘The one who raped—’
‘They’re not trying to make you—’
‘But he raped—’
‘I don’t know that! Who?’
‘Don’t touch him!’
They clamoured like rooks, while I looked from one to another, trying to make sense of what they said. My brother had told me Edur was the greatest living hunter among the Auk People. Listen, you boys, and I’ll tell you what he was like back then. Actually he’s not changed much since: I’m the one that’s changed. Even in summer Edur wore a thick bearskin tunic that came from a bear he’d killed when he was hunting alone with just a couple of dogs. He was more tattooed with signs of dangerous Animals he’d killed than any of the other men, and when he wasn’t hunting he was all hung about with amulets made from the teeth and antlers of Animals that had given themselves to him. I’d always thought he was admirable.
‘Tell me!’ commanded Itsaso. ‘I didn’t know this! Who got raped?’
The other girls looked at each other. ‘If we tell you, don’t say anything!’
‘All right.’
‘I mean that.’ Osané looked at Itsaso severely. ‘She’s his first cousin. If the men knew . . . She’s not married yet. And it wasn’t her fault.’
‘Did she go with him?’
‘She didn’t know. He was her cousin. She admired him. But if the men knew . . . If I tell you, Itsaso, you must never say. Not even when we’re all married! Never!
‘But doesn’t her mother—’
Osané spat loudly. ‘Her mother’s worse than mine! And now my mother keeps telling me I must take Edur. He is after all’ – she mimicked her mother’s voice – ‘“the greatest hunter among our People, and he’ll always bring back plenty of meat, even in the very worst seasons”. My mother wants him for our winter Camp, and that’s all there is to it!’
‘But your mother can’t decide what man you take! Why don’t you—’
‘Oh grow up!’
There was another pause. Then Itsaso said tentatively, ‘At least you were going to tell me her name.’
‘You’ll never tell?’
Itsaso balanced on her branch and spread her arms wide. ‘Before all the spirits, I’ll never tell!’
‘Lean down!’
Itsaso swung round and hung down, holding on to her branch with her legs. I saw Osané whisper into her upside-down ear.
Itsaso’s eyes grew round. She swung back to her place without a word. I could see she had something new and alarming to think about.
I lay looking up into the leaves. They turned green and then white and then green again as the wind moved them, changing like the colours of a dance. A few leaves were already brittle and brown at the edges. One leaf broke away and floated down just past me. It was the first leaf I’d seen fall in that Year.
‘I reckon the Go-Betweens will search this Kemen after the Animals capture the boys,’ said Zorioné, breaking the silence. ‘Anyway, they can’t speak to the Animals about the Hunt until everything’s cleared up. And I mean everything, not just this Kemen man.’
‘You mean about Edur and—’
‘Hush! No, no, that mustn’t come to the Gathering! I told you.’
‘That wouldn’t matter for the Hunt,’ said Zorioné dismissively. ‘No, I just mean the important things that have to be dealt with before the Go-Betweens speak to the Animals about the Hunt.’
Kemen said:
It was much easier sailing up the Long Strait with the Auk People! The tide surged under the boat-hide ; I felt it singing through the soles of my feet. It filled my body with its strength. It found its voice in my breath as I sang the paddling songs of the Auk People with the others. Since I’d first landed on Mother Mountain Island – eleven Moons ago now – the Auk People’s words had become mine. I understood their speech. The Lynx People’s songs lay silent in my heart, hoping that one day they would find a new voice. Now the Auk People’s songs were finding a space in my heart beside those silent songs. As we paddled up the Long Strait in Gathering Moon, the Auk songs and the Lynx songs lay with one another inside my heart
and a small hope was born: that one day all the songs I knew would find their voices in one People. That hope drew its first breath as I sang. It had no voice: it wouldn’t find a voice for many a long day yet.
I thought of my lonely voyage into Long Strait last Yellow Leaf Moon, and shuddered. My life was very different now! There were more than two hands-full of us at Salmon Camp, and we met as many more at Boat Crossing Camp, all preparing to sail up the Long Strait to Gathering Camp. If I’d met so many Auk People in one place in Yellow Leaf Moon I’d have feared for my life. Now, coming as I did with Sendoa and his brothers, I felt mostly excitement, with only the faintest tinge of fear.
We paddled out of the bay at Boat Crossing Camp and Sendoa raised the sail. I looked back the way I’d come in the autumn. I saw two high peaks standing alone between the Morning Sun Sky and the High Sun Sky. I couldn’t help exclaiming, ‘There’s the Heron People’s Grandmother Mountain!’
Haizea, facing me from the bows – she’d chosen to travel in Sendoa’s boat that day – blazed up at once. ‘Heron People’s? What do you mean? How can you say that! That’s our very own Grandmother Mountain! That’s where the spirits gave life to our People at the Beginning. How could you not know that?’
Sendoa pulled the sail rope tight. ‘Kemen’s right,’ he said mildly. ‘Grandmother Mountain belongs to the Heron People too. You know that, Haizea!’
‘Of course I know that!’ Haizea fixed her gaze on me. ‘Surely you know that Grandmother Mountain had two daughters. They lived with her – right there, on the Mountain. Then a man came from under the Sunless Sky, and he took one daughter, and they were the Father and Mother of the Auk People. And then another man came from under the High Sun Sky, and he took the other daughter, and they were the Father and Mother of the Heron People. And so the two sisters were parted. But from the Beginning the Grandmother Mountain has kept watch over both her daughters, and over all their children from the Beginning until now. That’s why she stands where she does. We hunt here, on this side of her, and as for the Heron People’ – Haizea pointed down Long Strait – ‘they hunt beyond Grandmother Mountain, way over there.’
I paddled silently for a while, letting the songs flow past me. Wind filled the sail-hide, and the shore of Mother Mountain Island slid by easily. There was no point mentioning that I knew more about the Heron People than Haizea was ever likely to. The Heron People were nothing to me. I became a man a long way from here, among the Lynx People. Even the smallest Auk children knew the Ancestors in this land better than I did. I watched young Ortzi’s back as he paddled in front of me. His skin was as smooth as a girl’s, and, although I could see that his muscles were already strong, he was very skinny: all his ribs showed when he bent forward. He was only a boy, and yet in some ways I had more to learn than he had. Amets had also been a stranger when he first came to Gathering Camp, but his grandfather was from the Auk People, so although he came from far-off he’d already belonged more than I did. I guessed I’d be tested more severely, but how I didn’t yet know.
That night we all camped on a sheltered beach behind a low-lying island. We were up before dawn to cross the head of Long Strait at slack water. That was my first sight of Gathering Camp Loch. I’d never seen anything like it! You’re all used to the way it narrows and widens again; how the tide races through the narrows and slackens into broad stretches; how the loch curls like a snake, first one way and then another; how if the mist’s down you have to read where you are from the colour and feel of the water because the bits of land you see will all try to deceive you. Gathering Loch knows how to keep strangers away! You’re all used to dodging the rocks and islands that rise up to bar your way. None of you notice that the land itself is trying to stop you. It doesn’t worry you that at every headland and island Gathering Loch pretends to come to an end, and then you turn the corner and there’s a great stretch of sea still lying before you.
Neither was I used to the way the tide does your work for you – I was still frightened of being swept along so fast. Sendoa had told me we’d only sail with the flood every day. I soon saw why: there’s no point struggling against the ebb in Gathering Loch. These days I’m happy to set up Camp for half the day along the way. I like having lazy days feasting with kin from other islands as we all make our slow way into the heart of the Auk People’s hunting lands. But on that first voyage I was anxious to get there. I wanted to make my life among the Auk People, but I knew my test would be waiting for me at Gathering Camp. I wanted to get it over.
As the arms of the hills enclosed us, the sound of the Open Sea was left behind. The sail was no good to us any more. Sendoa rolled it up and lashed the mast down. We paddled over white-capped waves setting our course for Loch Island, as the flood flowed under us. As we drew close to the island I saw two stags on the shingle drinking from a River that flowed into the loch. I narrowed my eyes to see them over the shining water. Both Animals had rounded bellies and sleek hides. The old stag raised his heavy antlered head – tatters of velvet still hung from the points – to stare at us. The younger one – he was only in his second Year – stirred uneasily. The old one knew no Stag had agreed to give himself that day. The great Hunt of Deer Moon comes just before the Rut. Until Gathering Camp is over, all the stags have to do is keep out of the way.
Of course if a stag crosses a man’s path before the Hunt, that man will take what the spirits have given. But for the little space before the Rut the stags are not part of the Hunt. In Deer Moon, men become Stags. Men roam the hills and watch the hinds. Men choose the hinds and circle them. Men take what the spirits have given. This is why men say that the great Hunt is the Rut that comes before the Rut. Because at Gathering Camp men are also choosing hinds – of a different kind! They watch them and circle them. They fight off their rivals. Sometimes they die. They’re driving their slippery hinds into a different kind of trap. They’ll take them if they can get them! Yes, you boys over there! You may well laugh! You know what I’m talking about!
My thoughts had drifted far-off. My heart had been filled with hopes when we set out for the Auk People’s Gathering Camp. But the fear in the heart of that young stag flew over the water and wreathed itself round my own heart. The spirits of the Hunt are very powerful. If you get on the wrong side of them they’re dangerous. Long after we’d paddled past, the image of that young stag lingered inside my eyes. I only gradually became aware of the talk going on around me.
‘I thought we were going to beach on Loch Island?’
‘We won’t waste the flood. Not with a good wind like this. We’ll take the channel, and keep going until slack water.’
‘Sendoa wanted Hodei to see Kemen before we got to Gathering Camp.’
My ears pricked up at the sound of my own name.
Sendoa said, ‘He’s right: we can’t waste this tide. We’ll find Hodei later on, at Gathering Camp.’
‘Who is Hodei?’ I asked Sendoa.
In front of me Ortzi snorted. ‘He doesn’t know!’
Sendoa leaned over and boxed Ortzi’s ears. ‘Enough! You may be a stranger yourself some day! D’you expect the spirits of far places to be kind to you then, if you can’t show them any respect now?’
Ortzi kept his sore head down, and paddled furiously. No one spoke as Sendoa steered us into a narrow channel, following Amets’ boat in front. The tide surged through the narrow gap, sweeping us with it, past green and gold woodland on our left hand, and a craggy island on our right. A group of children were standing at the top of the crag on the island. They whooped and cheered as our hand-full of boats shot through the channel. Haizea yelled back, ‘Argi! Argi! We’ll see you at Gathering Camp!’ I hardly glanced up; I could see water pouring over jagged rocks a bare paddle’s length away. I still wasn’t used to the Auk People’s ideas about travelling!
When we’d raced through the channel into gentler waters Sendoa gave me an answer. ‘Hodei’s one of our Go-Betweens. He usually stays on Loch Island all summer. You can see how it is – no
one can pass through Gathering Loch without the People on Loch Island knowing about it. It’s Hodei’s Birth Place. The spirits of Loch Island are very powerful. If Hodei decides in your favour, Kemen, you couldn’t wish for a stronger friend.’ Sendoa stopped speaking while we rounded a point on the High Sun Shore. I’d thought we were almost at the end of Gathering Loch, but now what seemed like a whole new loch opened up before us. When we were in open water again Sendoa went on, ‘That’s why I hoped to take you to Hodei before he leaves Loch Island. But while wind and tide are as kind as this I daren’t anger the spirits by refusing their gifts. For your sake, Kemen, I want to keep the spirits of Gathering Camp on our side in every way I can!’
While I was thinking about Sendoa’s words, Haizea shouted from the bows: ‘I can see Sharp Peak!’
I looked where she pointed, and saw a far-off mountain peak. It looked like a double tooth, with a little dip in the middle of the peak. I felt another tremor run through the men around me, between one paddle stroke and the next, like a bowstring suddenly pulled taut. I gazed at Sharp Peak, and the mountain spoke to me of the great Gathering Hunt of the Auk People. It knew we were drawing close. A little shiver ran up my spine. If I’d known how . . . But the spirits had told me enough. When I next glanced up the mountain had hidden itself in cloud. A swathe of rain drifted across the hills around us, and pattered on the water as we paddled on.
Next morning’s tide brought us to an expanse of shingle and salt flats where a River flowed out from the Sunless Sky. We could see the head of the loch at last. There were a lot of boats already carried up the flats and weighed down with stones. We laid our boats beside them and picked up our baskets and rolls of hide. I caught myself trembling, and drew in my breath to stop myself, hoping no one had seen. This Deer Moon would set the course for the rest of my life. I turned my back on the others and stretched up my arms to the spirits. I was a man and I would not beg. But as a stranger I humbly asked the Auk spirits to accept me. I told them that although this place was new to me, I wanted to belong here. I asked for the chance to show them – and these Auk men – how well I could hunt. I asked for the chance to show them – and these Auk women – how much I deserved a woman to take me into her family.
The Gathering Night Page 10
