I expect my friends knew what I was saying. Although I was a stranger no one tried to stop me speaking to the Auk spirits. I looked round, blinking, and saw that everyone had set off towards the River. I took the hides they’d left for me to carry, and followed the others across the flats, picking my way from tussock to tussock of tough salt-grass. Little rivulets of shell sand ran between the tussocks, with broken shells and bits of seaweed stuck in the cracks. I walked towards the River: the spate had left a tangle of seaweed and brown leaves behind it. The air was shrill with oyster catchers, and gulls wheeled, screaming, above my head. I looked back the way we’d come. The wind blew patterns across the ebbing tide, telling me that until it changed there was no easy way out. I stood still, clutching the rolled-up hides to my chest. I breathed deep, and smelt the kind air of Gathering Camp; it told me that I could easily become familiar with this place.
I’d seen so few People in Auk lands that I’d thought the lands under the Evening Sun Sky were almost empty. Of course I was wrong. The path upriver had been ground into mud by many feet. The air was heavy with the smell of People. The River wound between marshlands and reed-filled beaver lakes. I forded a chattering burn and found myself among oaks and hazels. Light slanted through the leaves; moss and lichen gleamed as if flames were licking up the tree trunks. Rapids gushed over rocks as the banks grew higher. Suddenly I was afraid. My friends had gone ahead of me, and the air smelt of many strangers. I saw light ahead of me, and ran towards it like a deer hurtling into a trap, the hides bumping on my back.
I stopped short at the edge of the clearing. Like a trapped deer, I wanted to turn and flee. There was nowhere to go. Never in my life had I seen so many strangers at once. You Auk People – you women who’ll never leave your own lands – you boys who’ve never yet left your family hearth – you can’t begin to know what it’s like to come upon hands-full upon hands-full of strangers – People you’ve never seen before – whose names you’ve never heard in all your lives.
Through the wreathing smoke of my confusion I saw how the People’s hearths formed a great circle with the Go-Betweens’ mound in the middle. All the spirits of Gathering Camp clustered above that one green mound in the middle of the clearing. I felt a warning in my blood, as if I were coming close to a sleeping bear or hungry hunting wolves. As I watched, the fires on the green mound flamed high among crackling pine branches. Smoke billowed across the clearing. Looking up, I saw two cloaked figures through the smoke.
I was the stranger: these Auk People had nothing to fear. Children and dogs were scrambling up the steep sides of the Go-Betweens’ mound. They’d catch sight of the cloaked figures of the Go-Betweens through the wreathing smoke, and slide back down, shrieking in delighted terror.
Then Sendoa pulled me over to the family hearth, and I forgot about the mound with its clustering spirits. Fear fled into the shadows. Everyone was greeting everyone else with roars of delight and much slapping of arms and backs. All around me women and men were hurrying from hearth to hearth so I couldn’t see where anyone belonged. But with Sendoa pushing me forward, they all greeted me kindly. Some even brought out roasted hazelnuts from their pouches and insisted that I eat.
Gathering Camp is Auk all right! You can tell by the din! Gathering Camp is like all the Auks gathered together on the nesting cliffs of White Beach Island after their long winter out at sea. But Lynx is a silent, solitary Animal. I won’t say our People were always true to Lynx in that – but the noise you Auks make when you’re all together is enough to frighten away any spirits except your own!
But Auks are kind. They’ll nest alongside kittiwakes and gulls. They take no notice of shags on the rocks below or rock doves in their hidden clefts, or pipits among the puffin burrows. No one at Gathering Camp seemed worried about me. And I was pleased to find, when I spoke to these new People, that they understood what I said. Since Yellow Leaf Moon I’d worked very hard to speak like the Auk People. But even today my tongue still tells strangers that I wasn’t born under the Evening Sun Sky.
Later on, People told me about the journeys they’d made to get to Gathering Camp. In my country we don’t sail across the Open Sea. Why would we? There aren’t any islands, and a boat can – could – follow the coast as far as it wanted to go. But some of these Auk People had made long journeys across the Open Sea from distant islands, from which, they told me, the hills above Gathering Camp looked blue and far away, and very often weren’t visible at all. Not all these far-off People come to Gathering Camp every Year – they counted a lot of kin who’d stayed behind – but I soon realised that although the Auk People are thinly scattered, they hunt under many skies.
As soon as we’d pitched our tents Amets took me round to show me what a good place this was. It didn’t occur to anyone else that I wouldn’t know my way. Ortzi and the dogs tagged after us. We took no notice of them, and Ortzi was pleased not to be sent away. Amets showed me the fish traps along the River and the paths that led up to the high Hunting Camps. Everywhere we went there were skulls wedged in the trees: Wolf, Stag, Lynx, Fox, Aurochs, Bear and Boar. Some were green and rotting; many still gleamed white. A hand-full were fresh kills. I could see that this land gave itself generously to the Auk People.
I was pleased I could say to Amets that Gathering Camp seemed a good place. I’d been embarrassed when Amets and Sendoa had taken me across to Flint Camp in Seed Moon. When we’d sailed into the wide bay the Auk men said we’d get enough flint there to last the winter – as if we had to collect all our stone at once! But we didn’t find any flints that I’d even have bothered to pick up in Lynx lands. I knew my silence was as bad as an insult, so now I was very glad I could say good things to Amets about the hunting lands at Gathering Camp.
The land was full of birds: sparrows, tits and chaffinches scavenging in the Camp; pigeons, rooks, turtledoves and songbirds in the forest; and ducks, moorhens, geese and herons in the marshes. We certainly weren’t going to be hungry! Amets showed me the beaver dam and the pool above it where someone was fishing from a coracle. He explained how we don’t take beaver close to Gathering Camp because they look after the dams that hold in the trout pools, and they cut down trees that give us firewood for the whole Gathering. Amets led me uphill to the hazel grove. The trees were already laden with nuts, and the grove was surrounded by a circle of thicket where the hazel had been cut back to the ground to make clumps for wands.
I whistled under my breath, and Amets smiled. ‘Your People do this?’ I asked him.
‘Yes, at every Gathering Camp. We’ll come and cut what we need before we leave. You’ll see.’
Amets led me further into the forest and showed me where there were bright earth-mushrooms. People had already been here with digging sticks, but there were plenty left. We picked some and chewed as we walked. As we ducked under the great branch of an old oak that reached sideways across the path Ortzi appeared between us and pulled Amets’ sleeve.
‘What is it?’
Ortzi pointed at a gash in the oak trunk, where a blackened wound told how long ago a storm had ripped a big branch away. ‘Bees! There’s a bees’ nest up there!’
I squinted up at the trunk. The Sun was in my eyes, but now I saw the bees buzzing around the scarred wood. A black slit in the broken trunk could be a hole – I couldn’t tell.
‘Look, Amets!’ The boy was jumping up and down with excitement. ‘They’re going in and out of that hole where the branch used to be. Can’t you see?’
‘You have your uses, Ortzi,’ remarked Amets. ‘Suppose you climb up and make sure?’
Eagerly Ortzi scaled the rough bark. He swung himself on to a wide branch just above our heads, and stood on tiptoe, his hands against the trunk, peering upward. ‘Yes, it is! Ow! There’s hands-full and hands-full of them, going in and out! Ow! Amets, I think I can smell honey! You could reach it if you stood on this branch. Ow!’
‘Come down! You’ll get plenty more stings later!’
Ortzi swung himself round t
he branch, hanging by his hands. He edged his toes into the rough bark and slithered down the trunk. He stood beside us, rubbing his palms on his deerskins, and grinned up at Amets.
Amets took no notice of him. ‘That’s a new nest, Kemen! It wasn’t here last Year. We’ll come back with fire and baskets this afternoon. I think we might get something good! And Ortzi,’ – Amets rounded on the boy – ‘you keep your mouth shut till then. I’ll flay you if your friends get here first!’
Ortzi shook his head hard, and stretched his open hands to the spirits.
There’d been plenty of Animals about, especially red deer, roe deer and aurochs. Already People had set ground traps for small game, and bird snares in the trees. Of course now the Auk People were gathering in great numbers the Animals would retreat, but not so far that we couldn’t follow. As soon as the Go-Betweens had spoken to the Animals about the Hunt, the great Hunt of Gathering Camp would begin.
‘Amets!’ I spoke to him quietly when we’d gone a little way ahead, because I didn’t want Ortzi to hear.
‘Yes?’
‘Will they let a stranger join the Hunt?’
Amets stopped and put his hand on my shoulder. He didn’t answer at once. Then he said slowly, ‘Only the Go-Betweens know what the spirits say. But a spirit already spoke to Nekané about you, and what she heard was good.’
‘But a woman . . . will that make any difference?’
Amets shook his head. ‘The Go-Betweens here won’t listen to her, no. What could she say about the Hunt? But what I mean is, Nekané told us that the spirits think highly of you. The spirits don’t lie. That means they’ll tell the real Go-Betweens the same thing.’
I hadn’t thought of it like that, but what Amets said made sense.
‘Besides’ – Amets shook my shoulder to emphasise the point – ‘ordinary men can speak too. What do you think Sendoa and I are likely to say about you?’ He smiled at me.
I smiled back: I was a man, not a child or a woman, and I hid my anxiety.
‘Hush,’ said Amets, ‘here comes the boy.’ He shook my shoulder again and let it go. ‘Few People would argue with Sendoa, anyway,’ he added lightly, as if our conversation had just been about that. ‘Isn’t that true, Ortzi?’
Startled, but very happy that Amets should speak to him, Ortzi nodded dumbly.
We went back to the bees’ nest in the afternoon. Our grass hats were pulled down over our ears, and our sleeves tied tight round our wrists. We rubbed seal grease over our faces and hands and feet. We had fire, axes and mallets, and a basket each. Amets spoke to the bees and told them we wanted their honey. He said we knew they had plenty, because this was their winter Camp, and all their winter stores would be gathered in. Amets told the bees we wanted them to stay in this oak tree: we’d leave enough honey – they didn’t have to give us everything. We stretched our arms up to the Bee spirits. They agreed to give themselves. We climbed up to Ortzi’s branch. Our faces were on a level with the hole in the tree. Now I could see the bees plainly, going in and out of their nest. Ortzi scrambled on to a thin branch so he could watch what we did.
‘You’ll get stung if you stay there!’
‘I don’t care! I’ve taken honey before! I know what bees are like.’
‘But you don’t know what these bees are like – no one does – especially now they’ve heard you making so much of yourself!’
I glanced at the bees buzzing round Ortzi’s head. My sister’s son died of a bee sting – he’d lived two winters – Ortzi would never have lived this long if he’d been the same. I said nothing.
Amets took an ember from his pouch. My basket was full of dry grass and bracken. I passed Amets small handfuls. As soon as the tinder caught Amets put his face close to the hole, ignoring the stinging bees, and gently blew the smoke into the hole.
‘Does that kill them?’ asked Ortzi.
Amets was blowing smoke into the hole, and didn’t reply.
‘They’ll think there’s a fire,’ I told Ortzi. I was glad to show this Auk boy that even Lynx men knew something! ‘They’ll eat as much honey as they can. Then they’ll try to get away. They’ll eat so much honey to take with them, they’ll be too gorged to sting. At least – not sting quite so much.’
‘I’ve got lots of stings already!’
Amets dusted ashes from his fingers. Two hands-full of heartbeats passed. He raised his axe. It thudded into the wood above the hole.
The tree was quite hollow. In a heartbeat we’d broken the scarred wood away with axes and mallets. Amets reached into the nest with both hands, one clutching his knife, his cheek against the rough bark. His hands came out clasping a great lump of waxy honeycomb. Bright yellow honey dripped between his fingers. Angry bees flew in his face, trying to sting him off. I held Amets’ basket open. Two more shining handfuls and it was full.
I wriggled past him until I was leaning against the trunk. Amets held my basket. I didn’t expect to fill it – two baskets-full would be too much to hope for. I groped in the darkness of the tree, my eyes shut so all my seeing went into my hands. Amid the stinging bees I felt the warm stickiness of honey. I cut through the nest with my knife, and eased my fingers through the waxy comb. I pulled a lump of honey away in my cupped hands and lifted it into the daylight. Rivers of sunlight oozed between my fingers. Thick honey clung to my hands, then slid reluctantly into the open basket. I licked my fingers. Sweetness sang on my tongue, full of light and memory. I shut my eyes to savour it.
I reached again into the dark hollow in the oak trunk. Once . . . twice . . . my basket was as full as Amets’. I felt around the hollow inside the tree with my sticky hands, but I couldn’t touch the top of it.
‘Is there more? Is there? Can I have a turn?’
Ortzi slid down in front of Amets. He had a woman’s basket – his mother’s I suppose. That boy always had large ideas of what he’d find! Amets didn’t speak to him, but he held the basket open for him. Ortzi reached into the tree as far as he could. ‘Ow! Ow! Ow!’
‘What did you expect?’
‘I don’t care! I can feel honey! It’s too far away! My arms aren’t as long as yours!’ Ortzi jumped up and thrust his shoulders into the gap. In spite of the angry bees settling on him he reached right in. ‘I’ve got some! Ow! Ow! I’ve got some!’
‘That’s enough!’ said Amets presently. ‘Three handfuls.’
‘But my hands are smaller than yours! There’s more honey in there!’
‘For the bees,’ said Amets. ‘You want to find them here next Year, don’t you?’
‘Even so,’ said Ortzi when we were all on the ground again, licking honey from our hands and faces, and picking out the stings from our bare skin. ‘I don’t think anyone ever found this much honey in one nest before, Amets! And I found it! You wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t told you! D’you think I’ll make a good hunter?’
‘No, I don’t! Stand still – look at me – let me get those stings off your face before your mother sees you. You sing your own praises much too loud, Ortzi! The Animals will be so frightened of you they’ll all run away. Isn’t that right, Kemen? This boy is going to have to learn how to behave properly before he learns to hunt anything, don’t you think?’
That evening the Go-Betweens spoke to the Animals about the Hunt.
Alaia said:
It always takes me a day or two to get used to all the People at Gathering Camp. There’s so much to do in less than a Moon. What with dogs barking, gangs of children running round yelling, fights breaking out, singing all night long – different songs on every side of course – bargaining, visiting, gossip, crowds chanting while the Go-Betweens heal sicknesses and quarrels . . . And that Year People were asking us about Bakar all over again . . . that was hard.
Also I had Esti to show to everyone. Her name was new to us, so they were all eager to meet this small stranger. Woman after woman came to hold her, and look into her eyes, and say to her, ‘Welcome to the Auk People, Esti. You will always find food h
ere!’
The Go-Betweens were going to speak to the Animals about the Hunt that evening. I said I’d stay in Camp with Esti and roast the hazelnuts as the women brought them to us. My aunt Sorné got back first. She tipped out her basket. As we spread the hazelnuts over the sand she was saying how Eguskiné had told her that Arantxa was full of some story about how Edur was going to take her daughter Osané. ‘Which is not what I’d wish for any daughter of mine,’ my aunt said, smoothing sand over the fresh nuts. ‘He may be a great hunter, but meat isn’t the only thing a woman needs in her life. Eguskiné thinks he’d settle down if he got Osané. I’m not so sure.’
Sorné helped me spread oak embers over the sand. She sat with me until we had a good roasting fire. Then she was off again – we’d be needing all the food we could get. Later I wished I’d taken my basket and gone with her. First I had a row with Agurné – their tents were next to ours and every morning their dogs were shitting on our ground, right next to my roasting pit. She said it wasn’t their dogs – but I’d seen them. Oh, you know what it’s like at Gathering Camp, but in our family we don’t shout filthy words and throw dirt at each other. So when Eguskiné came over with the bloodstones I was still upset. I gave her blackberries, and hazelnuts still hot from the sand. We chatted for a bit before we talked about the stones, so I thought I was feeling better. But when she’d gone I opened the leather bag again and laid out the bloodstones, and realised at once I’d given two big flintstones for what was actually very little. It was too late now. I couldn’t quarrel with Eguskiné. Her great-grandmother was also mine. And Eguskiné’s hearth is always open, surrounded by songs and laughter. I didn’t want to find myself shut out. And who knows when one of our family might need to go to Bloodstone Island to fetch stones, or get a woman? You never know. I’ve never been there, but I know the high mountains of Bloodstone Island very well – I often see them, far across the sea under the Sunless Sky.
The Gathering Night Page 11
