“They were as intelligent as us?” Guy raised a groomed eyebrow.
“That’s what I believe.”
“And yet we were able to kill them all.”
“Some died by human hands, I’m sure of that. But others must have been friendly with humans. We know, as one example, that the two groups interbred.”
“Sex is interesting.” Guy smirked. “Almost as interesting as war.”
Caitlin, the primatologist, sat forward and addressed Guy in a crisp tone. “In my area, when we see a behavior once, we tend to ascribe it to the whole population. If one gibbon murders another, then the scientific community is likely to decide that all members of the species have murderous intent. But a careful study of individuals shows that the range of their behavior is as broad as it is in humans.”
“I’m sure the same would be true of modern humans who met Neanderthals by chance,” I added, nodding. “Some would be peaceful, others wouldn’t. It would depend on the individuals and their circumstances.”
“But this is all theory,” said Guy. “Where is the evidence?”
“It has been well established that when modern humans move into an area, an extinction of the large animals in that area tends to follow. I have no doubt that there was conflict over territory and resources between modern humans and Neanderthals. Low population density meant the Neanderthals were vulnerable to violence, competition, diseases, and so on. As a result, they couldn’t withstand the pressure from new neighbors. But I agree with the point that Caitlin made, that there was probably a range of reactions to contact, from violence to sex to friendship. But I’m sure, also, that modern humans back then developed a certain kind of story about the Neanderthals that played to their benefit. It’s a story that we continue to tell. It’s the story we should challenge.”
I could see Guy’s finely tuned gears turning. “Sex or violence—which is the more compelling story?”
“They are both rather fundamental,” said Maya.
“But this is a museum.” Guy shook his head. “We need to convey the ideas without a big long conversation. We need a message that the public can understand in a glance.”
I knew what to do. I tapped my computer to life. On the screen: the photo Andy had taken of the two skeletons. The room immediately fell silent. At that point we had had their two skulls dug out only enough to show their profiles, but the outlines were clear in the photo. The two skulls lay together in the dirt. They faced each other, their eye sockets level, as though they had been looking at each other in their last moments of life. The Neanderthal was on the left, her brow protruding and her braincase sloping, with a prominent bump at the back. The modern human was on the right, his skull rounder and his knobby chin jutting out. Whatever their differences, they appeared to look straight through them. The connection between them felt fixed, like they had managed to keep their bond even in death.
Maya’s hand went to her mouth. She let out a sob.
“Oh my God.” It was Guy who first spoke, in a whisper. “They look like lovers.”
The committee agreed to give me a large grant. Tim reiterated the rough timeline we had discussed on the phone. We were to complete the excavation by the end of August. Caitlin expressed concern about whether that was realistic, given that the artifacts were the property of the French. Guy waved this away, muttering about how much the French system needed an infusion of cash. He wanted to have his negotiations finished and a preliminary exhibition mounted as my results were published. We could make casts of the two figures in position and show photos of the site. Other details they discussed rushed over my head as I started to realize that I’d done it. I shook hands and didn’t worry about my calluses. Maya gave me a hug, and Tim seemed thrilled to be working with me after so many years of conversation. Guy came over to shake my hand, but instead I leaned in and kissed him on each cheek. He looked at me. “This will be big, Rose.” I knew enough about him to take this as both encouragement and threat.
As I was leaving, Caitlin came and put a brittle-looking hand on my arm. “Will that schedule work?” she asked, glancing at my waist.
“For what?” I asked, feeling equal parts shocked and violated.
“You’ll be under a lot of pressure.”
“Of course.” I looked at her frown. “Why does that worry you?”
She didn’t answer. She only gave me a hard stare and then nodded. “I’ll support you.” Then she left and I was confused. Did Caitlin have the power to see right through to my uterus? I didn’t appreciate the implication that I needed help or that I looked weak. Just then, Tim clapped me on the back and showed me out, so I didn’t have a minute more to think about it. Soon I was in a cab.
I got to the hotel room and flopped onto the bed. I’ve never seen the point of staying in a hotel if I’m not with someone I enjoy having sex with. I missed Simon. Time zones be damned, I had to call.
“Big news!” I said when he picked up.
“Hello?” Simon sounded baffled.
It was the middle of the night in London. “The project. The dig.”
“Is this some sort of sex hotline?”
“I got the money.”
“That’s wonderful.” He was probably rubbing his eyes. I pictured him in our bed, sheets hopelessly twisted. “Your meeting went well. I never doubted it. Do you have a glass of bubbly to celebrate?”
That gave me pause.
“Are you still there, Rose?”
“I shouldn’t drink.”
“Is there a cava shortage in Manhattan?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh.” Now I thought I heard Simon sit bolt upright. I knew exactly what he’d look like. His eyebrows, often the most expressive part of his face, would have risen halfway up his forehead. I heard a lift in his voice, the sound of a spreading smile. “That’s the best news.”
There was silence as Simon collected himself and decided which question he wanted to ask first. He finally settled on “How far along?”
“Coming up on four months.”
“So due in…”
“Sometime in the beginning of September.”
He paused, maybe coming to terms with how much his life had just changed. “That’s what you meant by news. To think I thought you were talking about your meeting.”
“Your mind is always on my work.”
“I admit I’m so happy, Rose. You know I’ve always wanted this. I thought we were too old.”
“That I was too old,” I corrected.
He asked if I’d noticed any changes. I told him the grisly story of almost throwing up on Andy one morning. My breasts were larger by a quarter of a handful, although my belly was still flat, and my nipples were maybe a touch darker in the most pleasing way. As I told him this, my mind went back to what Caitlin had said as I was leaving the museum. If I wasn’t showing, what had she meant?
“You know what I’m most excited about?” Simon asked.
“Changing diapers?” I guessed.
“Of course. I can’t wait.”
“I prefer ancient, fossilized poop to the fresh kind.”
“Guess again.”
“Bedtime stories?”
“No,” he said. “I’m most looking forward to what this means for us.”
“What’s that?”
“We will get to spend more time together.”
“True.”
“You’ll stop hopping from cave to cave and country to country all the time.”
“Where will I be?”
“Finally, you’ll be at home.”
Part II
6.
When Girl came to her senses, lying on her back in the narrow channel, it was quiet. All the beasts in the area surrounding the river seemed to stay still, but she knew their ears were pricked. What she did next could mean a chance to eat. It could even mean a change to the order of the land.
The tree branches swayed just slightly. The red squirrels stopped their chatter, only twitching their tails.
The badger family, who kept hidden away during the day, had woken but stayed under cover with ears perked. The bear, however, didn’t stir. Her interest in the action was vague, so she had dozed off. Her long-held truce with the family meant she could save energy now and, if they were successful, feel assured that she would eat later. The young leopard was careful to stay well downwind.
The only thing that continued unchanged was the river. It didn’t care about such earthly matters as which meat got to eat. It concerned itself only with a search for the easiest way down the flank of the mountain. It ran. Nothing could stop it, and in that sense, it was the strongest force in the land.
In Girl’s head, all thoughts went through her mind as pictures. The bison, Him and Bent, Big Mother and Runt—where were they all? She could feel the hard ground against the back of her head. The sun was trying its best to give her heat. She took a big breath in and was almost surprised not to get a mouthful of water. But the river was still partly frozen…was she on the ice? She lifted her head and looked down. Her feet were at the end of her legs. The toes wiggled to say hello. She was amazed to see that her head was still attached to the rest of her meat. “Pitch,” she muttered. Still attached.
Girl felt for the shell that she wore on a lash around her neck. It was there. She pushed herself up quickly, spear tucked in. Her head wobbled and the land slanted. She stepped to the side, trying to stay upright. Where was Him? Bent? She felt her head—a big bump. It had hit the rock wall on her way down; her eyes had been filled with white fire. She rubbed her head and carefully walked along the channel to the relative safety of the rock ledge. Big Mother and Runt were tucked into the tree roots where she had left them. They didn’t dare peek out until Girl called, “Aroo?”
It was Runt’s small head that popped out from the roots. Big Mother had pulled the boy close to protect him. Worry caused his features to gather at the center of his narrow face. Hair like a patch of dark moss; the broad strip of skin on his forehead caught the sun. In that fleeting moment, Girl wondered how old he was. He was so small, it was hard to tell, but when she looked at Runt, she realized that he was okay.
Time moved within the cycle of the season, but the repetition was never precisely the same. When the land took a lot of rain, the timing for the harvest of hazelnuts would change. If the sun was strong, the harvest might shift again. When the ice broke, the fish started to run. Before then, the bison would cross.
But in that moment, she looked at Runt, and though the blow to her head had left her stunned, she felt how time might move ahead of her. The land would change and Runt would grow. The dirt would freeze as his soft feet turned shiny and hard. The river would swell with rain as his round belly flattened out like ice. The rocks would erode from the land as his flat brow hardened and protruded to protect his eyes. All at once, in Girl’s mind, all those things happened. And none of them did. She shook her head to clear it. The distraction of her affection for Runt was dangerous in that moment. It took her senses away from the hunt. Was there danger?
The boy caught her eye and lifted his pinkie finger up to her. It was their signal. When Runt had first come to live in their hut at the meeting place, he had spent much of his time sitting quietly in a corner in the dark. Girl had pushed into the hut to recover from squashing her pinkie finger under a rock. She held it up in the air so as not to knock it. When her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she realized the boy was sitting there. He was holding up his pinkie in the same way. Since then, it had become their sign. It meant different things depending on their circumstances, but right then she knew he wanted to ask Are you okay?
She lifted her pinkie to signal Okay. Runt nodded and ducked his head back down. Big Mother’s head popped up next. Her wrinkled mouth stretched to a smile when she saw Girl. Relief curled around them like a ray of sun. The warmth flooded in.
Girl looked down the path, and her eyes followed the tracks toward the river. She could see the mother bison had run over her body and out of the channel. How had she not been crushed? It could have been due to chance…or to Bent. Where was he? The ice hadn’t completely let the river go. The hoofprints tracked in the mud and went out onto the ice where it was thick enough to hold the creature up. And there was the sprawled body of the mother bison. The beast still twitched, her side opened with a fierce wound. Girl judged that the bison wouldn’t stand again. A broad smear of bison blood crept outward on the ice. Him stood guard by the bison, spear up and not too close but ready to thrust it as needed. He must have speared the mother bison from behind. It was dangerous to get near a dying beast. Like a wolf, Him would stand back until it died.
Girl scampered through the mud. Where was Bent? He had jumped between her and the mother bison’s fury. Girl looked back up the narrows and then along the side of the bank, but by then she already knew. Bent’s body lay on the ground. He must have been dragged and gored in the chest by the cow’s sharp horn and then trampled by her sharp hooves as Him attacked from behind. She checked for other beasts, but they had all been scared deep into the bush by the ruckus. She ran to Bent and knelt down.
Bent’s pulse was faint. There was too much blood around. Bent was already changing. His skin looked like a hide that had been wrung out. A chip of bone was missing from his skull. The pulpy brain bulged out. His legs were sticking out at odd angles. The only thing that looked untouched was his bent arm. She felt a stab of pain at seeing this. It was the single part he would have wanted to be trampled. She picked up his body and cradled him in her arms. He already felt smaller and slighter, like his trip to the other side of the dirt had begun. She held his head against her chest and hummed so that he would feel her vibrations.
Carefully, she stood and carried Bent down the path and onto the thick ice. Big Mother must have already known. She was waiting in a sad silence, sitting on the ice, using a folded part of her cloak as padding for her broad bottom. Runt and Him made a circle and Girl lay Bent in the middle of it, his chipped, bleeding head on the old woman’s lap. They hummed and swayed and tried to fill Bent with warm from the family. A body doesn’t want to feel alone when making this last change. When a body died, it was often the last request, made with the gesture of hands to the heart: Hold me close. To be connected to the family was the most important thing. And so they took turns holding Bent. They all joined in the hum to let him know that he wasn’t alone. As they did, the dying mother bison felt their vibrations too. Soon the hum soothed her. In that way, they all let the changes come.
Girl kept one ear turned out. She would rather have been swamped by her sense of sadness, but the time after a kill was dangerous. A newly dead animal held much more value for a carnivore than a living one. If another beast was going to risk challenging the family, it would be then. The commotion would have alerted all the creatures for miles around about what was going on in the valley.
Girl heard a sound from behind and turned quickly. What? A bleat. A light tremor of air hit her cheek. It did not feel like a strong enough current to mean danger, but she looked more closely.
The bison calf was huddled into the frozen mud of the bank. She could smell his young fear, an uncomfortable ripple across her lips. His small legs trembled. He kept his eyes low. He would not live. He couldn’t make the journey to the summer grazing spot alone. The other animals, those from the herd that had turned back from the crossing after hearing all the noise, would probably not take him in. They would knock past him and leave him in the cold. Only in the best times, in the midst of a summer bloom, for example, was taking on a young calf worth the risk. And the ice of the moon or the wolves who lived that way would get him quickly after that. His last few hours would be full of agony and pain. To Girl, the calf looked more alone than a beast ever had. She couldn’t imagine how that would feel, to be without the family. A lone body.
Girl walked on the ice to the calf. He didn’t run and let her take a small horn in her hand. She braced his head against her thigh. She gave him a pat, a moment of warmth. She let out a br
eath to give him heat. She heard a step behind her and turned to see it was Him. She nodded and turned back to the calf. With a hand on each small horn, she held the calf in place. Him thrust his spear into the calf’s flank, twisted it, and levered it forward to make sure it couldn’t walk. Girl pulled back her spear and thrust it into the calf’s neck. She twisted the stone tip to make the blood flow. The calf slumped down, his front legs bending so that his weight was on his knees. Another stab from Him and the calf was on his side. Blood spurted and throbbed out until he collapsed.
Him put a knee on the calf’s neck, pressed down with his hands, and nodded for Girl to go first. She put her mouth to the vessel at his neck and drank. She felt the heat of his body directly. The calf’s life would change. It would give the family strength before the fish run. Bent’s life would go forward inside of her and the rest of the family. She drank back this promise. And Bent died soon after.
7.
Girl was bloodied to her shins, hands glistening red against the river ice. Even though grieving for Bent, she was hungry. Him held the mother bison’s hoof in place for Girl to make the first cut. She placed her stone tooth, a hand ax made by Big Mother, at the base of the hoof, where it joined the bison’s hide. She leaned in for leverage, then pressed the blade into the fur and sliced up. The tool was sharp and the cut clean. She pulled it up to the bison’s knee, exposing red blood and the first of the mother’s meat. She cut to the side of the tendon that ran along the back of the leg, careful to keep it in one piece, as it would be soaked and dried and braided to make the best lashing.
Next she worked the stone tooth the whole way up to the chest. The hide was thick around the core. Girl breathed hard, the air coming out of her lungs in huffs of effort. They cooked most of the meat they ate, but it was a custom to take the first bites from a fresh carcass raw. The warmth of the meat filled them with joy. Girl would cut them each a slab before they worked the meat.
The Last Neanderthal Page 6
