The Gathering Night

by Margaret Elphinstone

Zigor spoke first. ‘What wrong did these Lynx People do, Itzal?’

  Itzal swallowed. ‘Kemen stole my sister!’

  ‘Did you see him do it?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Then what do you know of it?’

  ‘My brothers saw . . . my father . . .’

  ‘Your father and brothers told you to speak against these men?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You were a child, Itzal. What did you know?’

  Itzal glanced up. Hodei was his uncle. Zigor had often spoken to him kindly. Itzal sought the faces of friends: there were no faces. Only the empty shapes of the Go-Betweens hung over him, blotting out the stars.

  ‘I knew I loved Osané!’ Itzal blurted out.

  ‘You loved your sister.’ The voice was dry as a stone. ‘Was she raped, Itzal? Is that why you want to protect her?’

  He was crying, grovelling in the turf at our feet.

  ‘Was she raped?’

  ‘You were a child, Itzal. What did you know? Was she raped?’

  ‘I can’t say! No! No! Yes! No! I can’t say!’

  ‘Then why did you say you could speak? Get out!’ Zigor kicked him savagely. Itzal curled into a ball. Hodei kicked him in the back. Itzal rolled out into the firelight. He would have jumped up and fled, but Aitor gripped the neck of his deerskins. ‘Stay there! You came into this circle! This isn’t finished yet!’

  The Go-Betweens faced the waiting People.

  ‘Send these Lynx men forward!’

  Basajaun and his cousin were shoved across the clearing, and pushed up to the Healing Place.

  After a heartbeat’s pause Kemen stepped forward. Amets and Sendoa tried to come with him, but Kemen pushed them back. ‘No! You mustn’t be part of this.’

  Amets tried to protest, but Kemen took him by the arm and spoke to him quietly. I saw Amets raise his hands to the spirits; I knew very well what Kemen had asked him. That pleased me: if Amets had promised to look after little Bakar, my grandson was as safe as he could be.

  The three Lynx men stood below us on our right. Koldo and Oroitz stood on our left. Basajaun folded his arms and stared with contempt at Arantxa’s sons. Koldo and Oroitz dropped their eyes.

  ‘Oroitz!’

  Oroitz jumped. He’d thought he was safe now.

  ‘Oroitz! Did you give food to these two men’ – Aitor pointed to Basajaun and his cousin – ‘when they came to your hearth at Loch Island Camp?’

  Oroitz hesitated. He couldn’t look at Basajaun. But there was only one answer. ‘Ye-es.’

  ‘You gave them food. Were you deceiving them when you did that?’

  There was only one answer to that too. ‘Ye-e-es.’

  ‘You forced the spirits of your hearth to tell a lie?’

  Oroitz was silent. Koldo opened his mouth to speak.

  ‘Quiet, you! Oroitz, where is your father?’

  Slowly Oroitz raised his arm and pointed into the darkness, in the direction of Arantxa’s tent.

  ‘Is your father alive, Koldo?’

  Koldo stared. ‘Yes!’

  ‘Is he mad?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Is he ill?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then why are you here without him? Is he ashamed?’

  ‘No!’ Koldo and Oroitz cried out together.

  ‘No? Perhaps he’s just dozing then? Perhaps his sons hunt so well for him that he’s eaten too much meat? Perhaps he’s sleeping quietly in his tent? No? Well, well – we won’t disturb an old man in his dreams. Basajaun!’

  Basajaun stood with his arms folded and his lynx-skin cloak thrown back over his shoulder. He stared up at Aitor with the same contempt in his eyes that he’d shown to Arantxa’s sons. Then his gaze dropped. His arms fell to his sides.

  It was my turn at last. Basajaun wasn’t expecting me to speak, and he started in surprise.

  ‘Basajaun,’ I said. I was glad that in spite of everything my voice held firm. ‘Basajaun, the dolphin beached on the white strand – whose was it?’

  He didn’t answer. Over his head I saw the Moon look down. She cast her shadow, and laid Basajaun’s head at Osané’s feet, where Osané stood in the crowd between Sorné and Alaia.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Basajaun said at last.

  He stood braced, like a deer that catches an alien scent, ready to dodge if we pursued him any further. It shocked him when Aitor and Hodei leaped down to the Healing Place and seized his cousin instead.

  The People hadn’t expected that either. A woman cried out. The shadows of the trees hid the People. When I glanced up I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them surrounding us, watching everything we did. They were our People. We worked for them. They gave us strength.

  We held the young man down between our cloaks. We hid him from the People and the light. We smelt his fear. We called on him by name.

  ‘You tell us about that dolphin now,’ I said. ‘Or we’ll kill you.’

  ‘No, no! I know nothing! I did nothing! Leave me alone!’

  Aitor grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back. Zigor’s knife was at his throat. ‘We might kill you now. Or – we could make certain your name never comes back into the world. We could do that. You know how we’d do that?’

  ‘No! No! No! I did nothing! I didn’t do it! Ask Basajaun!’

  ‘Kill him now!’

  ‘No! I did nothing! No!’

  Zigor drew his knife across the young man’s cheek. Blood ran down and soaked into his hair. ‘Then speak!’

  ‘I didn’t kill him!’

  ‘He told you his name?’

  ‘No! I didn’t know who he was!’

  ‘But when he was dead you stripped him. You read what was written on his back.’

  ‘I didn’t kill him!’

  ‘What did you find written on his back?’

  The man stank of fear. It ran down him in cold sweat. He was a broken reed in the hands of the Go-Betweens. Did he know that he must die? I willed not. We needed him to hope a little, to have something still to lose.

  That boy still hoped, because at last he whispered, ‘Auk!’

  Aitor let go. Basajaun’s cousin sank forward, his hands pressed to his eyes. In the air around us I felt a long breath let go. The People were one, watching us. They were a great Animal surrounding us, like a mountain cat curled in its lair around its kittens. We were doing what must be done, for the sake of our People. They gave us strength.

  We crouched above the Lynx man. Hodei said, ‘Now you’ll speak about why you were on that beach. You’ll speak about how you came to be in lands where the Auk People hunt. You’ll speak about how you met him, and you’ll speak about just how it was that this Auk man died.’

  He couldn’t speak above a whisper. We leaned into the smell of his fear. ‘Basajaun took another man’s woman. He took her the day after Kemen left to find the Auk People. He waited till Kemen had gone . . . He knew Kemen wouldn’t . . . This was five Years ago. The Heron People sent us away. Not all of us – not my brother – it wasn’t his fault – they let him stay.’

  Zigor’s knife stroked his throat. He gasped. ‘We took a boat . . . We paddled towards the Sunless Sky . . . towards Kemen . . . Kemen . . . he went to look for Auk . . . We followed . . . A kind wind took us . . . We paddled fast . . . the Year was growing old . . . Yellow Leaf Moon . . . we sailed into Auk land . . . deep into Auk lands . . . without meeting anybody.’ He looked up at us. He couldn’t see our faces. ‘I did nothing . . . nothing! There are kind spirits . . . will you let me live?’

  ‘Speak what you have to speak!’

  Perhaps he thought that was a promise. He went on in a rush of words. ‘We beached on a white strand. We were hungry. We didn’t know the land. The Animals saw we were strangers. They refused to give themselves. We were hungry.’

  The People leaned closer, straining to listen. I felt their nearness. They couldn’t see what we were doing up on the mound. They couldn’t hear what the Lynx
man said. They couldn’t follow us on this journey, but they trusted us. I felt their strength.

  ‘We walked on the white beach. We were looking . . . needed . . . Animal paths to lead us . . . all marsh . . . We saw . . . a rock on the white sand. We came close. Not a rock . . . a dolphin . . . high and dry . . . beached. It smelt fresh. Our knives . . .’

  Aitor jerked his head back hard. A blade nicked his throat. ‘Go on!’

  ‘We came . . . we found . . . footprints . . . dog . . . a man alone . . . ashes in the sand . . . lit from tree-mushroom . . . thyme stems . . . a white stone . . . That Dolphin . . . already given itself. Thanks given . . . already given . . .’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘We walked round . . . He’d stripped blubber . . . ribs cut . . . meat was gone . . . footprints . . . a path . . . under the trees . . . He’d gone to hang the meat . . . We found it later . . .

  ‘He’d gone . . . We were hungry. We took . . . We wouldn’t have taken it! Not all! We heard the dog . . . The dog barked . . . His dog . . . The dog . . . Basajaun was cutting meat . . . The dog . . .’ The words died into a sob.

  He cowered from Zigor’s knife, whimpering like a beaten puppy. ‘Speak, you!’ – that was Hodei – ‘The dog?’

  ‘His knife . . . Basajaun . . . he was cutting . . . The dog leaped . . . His knife . . .’

  ‘Speak, you!’ The knife moved. Blood trickled over the blade.

  ‘No! No! I will . . . I am . . . The dog . . . He ran . . . one man . . . His dog lying . . . on the sand . . . His dog . . . He saw the . . . I had meat . . . And Basajaun . . . His knife red . . . He saw the . . . His dog . . .’

  ‘Speak, you!’

  ‘I will! The dog . . . faster . . . He was angry . . . He saw . . . and . . . and . . . Basajaun had . . . in his hand . . . the blood . . . I didn’t do it! It was Basajaun! Basajaun did it! I did nothing! I tell you, I did nothing!’

  ‘What did you do with his body?’

  My voice wasn’t my own when I asked that. My body wasn’t my own. I was high up and far away. It was a Go-Between – not me – not Nekané, whose only son had been dead five Years – who said to that coward so coldly, ‘What did you do with his body?’

  In the end we made him answer me. ‘We hid it in the marsh.’

  Osané said:

  I’ll do my best to tell you this. If I can’t . . . if I find I can’t . . . I’ll tell you as much as I can.

  We women danced. The spirits came. I never thought I’d do that dance before the Hunt in my present life. I couldn’t dance very well because I was eight Moons pregnant, but even so the dance took me. I’d always been so light on my feet . . . but what did it matter? We clapped to the Go-Betweens’ drums. We sang that song before the men . . . it was like stepping into the Beginning. We were the ones to save the Hunt. The spirits filled us with strength. I thought we’d made things turn. I thought when we danced that now the men could ask the Animals about the Hunt. How could I have forgotten the fears that lay on my heart? Ever since Nekané brought the news from Loch Island Camp I’d been so frightened. I saw too many endings, and none of them good. When I danced I forgot. When we danced we were in the Beginning. Everything seemed right.

  I came back into this world when I saw my brothers stand in the Healing Place before the Go-Betweens. I remembered everything. I covered my face with my hands and dared not look. It broke my heart to see Itzal there. I’d just found him again. I’d not spoken to him since he was a child. Only yesterday we’d met secretly in the hazel grove. That was because he didn’t want to see my man, and I didn’t want to see my parents. But now everything was right between him and me. If it had only been the two of us . . . as it was, our meeting had left me more fearful than ever.

  Then the Go-Betweens asked . . . The Go-Betweens said . . . Aitor said to Oroitz, ‘Where is your father?’

  I learned to cry without a sound when I was very small. Alaia knew. Alaia put her arm round my shoulders. Sorné saw us. She put her arms round me too. The children – Esti – Bakar – you were there too. You were with us, standing in the Moonlit circle around the Go-Betweens’ mound. You clung to our cloaks. Oh, Bakar, do you remember? Sometimes I’ve hoped so much you don’t remember . . . and yet . . . I see now that it must all be remembered in the end.

  The shadows of the People hid my tears. Besides, no one was watching me. If I hadn’t had Alaia and Sorné to hold me I’d have fallen. Everything that I’d dreaded for so long . . . Please . . . I’m sorry . . . No, no, don’t . . . This must all be remembered. I can tell you now.

  When I looked up I couldn’t see what was happening. The Go-Betweens had gone. Oroitz and Koldo stood in the clearing. They looked so alone they might have been dead. The fire on the mound was hidden by an empty space. My eyes were dragged to that space. In it I saw darkness that moved and fluttered at the edges where the Moonlight caught at it. That darkness had swallowed my brother.

  When the spirits had done with Itzal, he rolled out from underneath. For a heartbeat I thought he was dead. He lay still. He crawled away as if he’d been beaten. No one looked at him except me. I saw him stagger to his feet. When he stumbled down to the Healing Place and stood beside my older brothers they didn’t even glance round. Everyone was watching that empty space which hid the fire.

  Two other men were in the Healing Place. They stood opposite my brothers. I looked at Kemen. I looked at Basajaun. They were too much alike . . . I wished they looked more different. My man would have been safer if they’d looked more different. The Moonlight wiped out colour – wiped out warmth – so that the way those two men stood, the outline of their faces – the cruel Moon forced everyone to see – which wasn’t true in daylight – how beneath the ordinary things that make us know one another – these two brothers looked very much the same.

  The Go-Betweens’ fires blazed above them. The Go-Betweens were up there, throwing on more logs. Sparks flew up and died in the Moonlight. Shadows leaped to their feet. Wind soughed in the oaks as the spirits breathed. A bundle lay before the Go-Betweens’ hearths. In the tricky light I couldn’t see. Kemen ran up the mound and rolled it over.

  ‘Dad-da! That’s my dad-da!’

  ‘Hush!’ I tried to put my hands over Bakar’s eyes. I didn’t want him to see. He wriggled free.

  ‘That’s Dad-da!’

  ‘Yes, Bakar,’ Sorné said. ‘That’s your brave father up there. You watch him, and be proud!’

  Bakar pushed my arm off his shoulder. He stood up straight. He watched everything that happened. After a while he let Sorné take his hand. But he didn’t glance again at me.

  The Go-Betweens were drumming. They took no notice of Kemen kneeling on their ground. I saw my man’s face outlined in the firelight – the familiar line of nose and jaw – suddenly strange to me now I saw his brother in him. I glanced at Basajaun. He was watching Kemen, but even as I looked he turned away. Kemen’s hands were on that strange bundle. I couldn’t see what he was doing.

  The Go-Betweens drummed. Spirits flashed in the Moonlight, red and yellow and gold. The spirits twirled above our heads. The oak tree tops bowed as the spirits passed over them.

  Kemen held the bundle in his arms. He struggled to his feet, pulling it with him. The fire lit them from behind. As it rose, the bundle took the shape of a man. Kemen got the man’s arm round his own shoulder. He walked his cousin down the mound to stand by Basajaun. In the Moonlight the face of the young man whose name has gone out of this world was black with blood.

  The spirits rose over the Go-Betweens’ heads as they drummed. They swooped over the People. They showered down Red and Yellow. They shot back to the Go-Betweens like arrows made of fire. The spirits dipped over my brothers’ heads as they passed. None went near the Lynx People. The air over their heads was empty space.

  The drumming stopped, sudden as a stricken bird. The spirits sank behind the fire.

  Aitor faced the People. He spoke to us all.

  ‘Listen, you People! The spirits have c
ome!’

  I was terrified. I hid my face.

  All round me People were echoing Aitor’s words ‘The spirits have come!’ they whispered. ‘The spirits have come!’

  ‘Now!’ cried Aitor. ‘The spirits will show us the wrong that was done! Nekané’s Helpers told her this long ago, but only now is their message plain.’

  The Go-Betweens’ drums murmured behind the hearth, echoing every word he spoke. I clung to Alaia. I hid my face against her shoulder. I knew too many things; I was terrified of what the spirits might tell the People. I wanted to run away and hide.

  ‘Listen, you People! Five Years ago Nekané’s son Bakar went alone from River Mouth Camp. He took his young dog – he was training him to hunt birds. They walked along the shores of Long Strait towards the High Sun Sky.’

  I raised my head. I began to listen to what Aitor was saying. He was talking about Bakar, who had been Alaia’s brother – Bakar, my little son. Perhaps I’d been wrong to be so frightened after all.

  ‘Bakar and his dog came to the White Strand at the foot of the marshes. The tide was going out. They found a dolphin high and dry. It was a strange dolphin, sinuous and thin, with a stripe along its side. The dolphin still breathed when Bakar found it. Bakar plunged his knife into its blowhole. The Dolphin gave itself to him.’

  ‘The Dolphin!’ the People began to mutter. ‘The Dolphin!’ I heard them whispering Nekané’s name.

  What had the Dolphin to do with Kemen, or my brothers? I didn’t know anything about any dolphin. I was still trembling, but I dared to look up at Aitor through the wreathing smoke. Perhaps I’d made a mistake; perhaps I had nothing to fear after all.

  ‘Bakar laid a white stone before the Dolphin.’ Aitor held up something that gleamed white in the Moonlight. ‘This stone! This stone you see here! He lit a fire with tree-mushroom, and burned thyme, because the Dolphin gave itself freely, without a Hunt. The Dolphin breathed the smoke.’

  I felt the People round me draw in a great breath, as if they too were one Animal.

  ‘The Dolphin breathed in the smoke. It didn’t go away at once. It watched Bakar strip away its blubber and roll it up. It watched him cut through its ribs and take meat. That Dolphin gave too much meat to carry. Bakar took the meat to a stand of birches a little way away. He hung it to dry out of reach of Animals, and went back to get more. His dog ran ahead.’