Next, an ornamental mollusk expert, Dr. Shinkoda, told us that she had evaluated a sample from the shell hoping to find traces of calcium carbonate that could be used to date it. She’d had trouble turning up much material and her results were inconclusive. “It’s difficult to date the shell in other ways, as it’s not definitively linked to human or animal bones,” she said.
“It is linked,” I corrected her quickly, “to the Neanderthal bones. It’s on the same level in the site: B seven. You saw the photos I sent?”
“I don’t consider a similar level on a dig site to be a definitive link,” she said.
“We may have a trace of a lash or a necklace of some kind below the vertebrae. There is a pattern in the dirt.”
“I saw that squiggle.” She nodded. “Hardly conclusive. A worm or something that came along much later could have made the pattern. The shell could have been placed by the body after death. It certainly doesn’t mean that a Neanderthal wore a necklace.”
I cleared my throat. “I disagree based on what I’m seeing from the layers of sediment. You aren’t able to see the context from there, so I understand your reluctance to confirm that it looks like jewelry.” I knew I had to be careful not to show a trace of emotion.
“I’m not sure what evidence I could see that would convince me. It’s a fantastical claim.”
“A necklace?” A rumble of anger formed in my chest. “I’ve shown in my research that Neanderthals possessed the capacity for a symbolic intellectual life, and the use of beads demonstrates that.”
“A piece of shell by the bones tells you how a brain thinks?” Dr. Shinkoda sounded almost insulted.
“The link between jewelry, or any kind of adornment, and cognitive ability has been clearly shown in anthropological research. People wear ornaments in order to convey who or what they are. The larger the group, the more need for ornaments.”
“Of course I am aware of that discussion,” Dr. Shinkoda said. “I was asked to evaluate the mollusk. I’ve done that. I can’t establish a link to the bodies through dating or physical evidence.” She looked over to Tim and Guy.
“Rose?” Guy’s head came in closer to the screen. “Perhaps it’s a good moment to bring this up. I don’t mean to question your research.” He made a downward motion with both hands, a patronizing way of telling me to calm down. “We’ve heard this, Rose, from quite a few of the experts who have come through to look at the artifacts. You know that there is resistance to your ideas. Many see the Neanderthals as inferior to us. How do you explain that their culture was essentially static for some two hundred thousand years? It shows a distinct lack of innovation.”
“Innovation comes when one person passes an idea to the next,” I said. “The Neanderthals lived at very low population densities. New ideas most likely came and went before they could be passed on, but they were perfectly capable of them.”
“We aren’t finding brilliant ideas in the dirt, though, are we?” Guy asked.
I adopted an equally disparaging tone. “We are finding that Neanderthals and modern humans were developing the same techniques at the time—the use of ocher for ornamentation is one example.”
“I need the museum to have a clear and credible message.”
Guy might just as well have sunk his fangs through the screen and bitten me. Caitlin could feel my tension. Under the table, she put a hand on my leg. Her hip bone dug into mine as she leaned forward. “The necklace theory is inconclusive and it may be for some time until we uncover more, but it’s the wrong thing to focus on.”
“What do you mean, Caitlin?” asked Tim. “If we open a big exhibit making grand statements that we can’t back up, we’ll have egg on our faces,” he said. “The media will pick up on it.”
“To be honest,” said Caitlin, “we are stuck in our own heads. I’m not an expert on this topic, but maybe that comes in handy. It gives me the necessary distance.”
I lowered my eyes, trying to listen.
“I had a journalist here recently. Fred Long.”
“National Geographic?” Tim raised his eyebrows.
“Despite a press ban,” I whispered to myself.
“He signed a nondisclosure agreement.” Caitlin acknowledged my comment. “But his point was refreshing. And I apologize that I didn’t have a chance to talk this over with you, Rose. But he felt that we were all too involved in the dig to really see the story that’s right under our noses. The two skeletons looking into each other’s eyes will stop people dead in their tracks. All we need to say is that one is a modern human and the other is Neanderthal. We don’t need grand claims or theories beyond it. He thinks his editor will want to put it on the cover. It’s absolutely iconic.”
“But what about the science?” My authority seemed to be slipping through my fingers.
“With that introduction, we can tell a story that leaves room for interpretation,” said Caitlin.
“A strong endorsement from a publication like National Geographic?” Tim beamed.
Guy let his lips slide into a smile. “A picture means more than words.”
Caitlin’s comments seemed to smooth over the disagreements that had come before. My theories could be put forward as just that, but the two skeletons suggested a deeper relationship that could live in the realm of everyone’s imagination.
When we finished up a few minutes later, I was drained. “Thank you,” I muttered to Caitlin, not having the energy to say anything else. She had gone behind my back, and all she had managed to do was open the gates for the museum trustees to present my work any way they liked. A rush of sentiment and an invitation into the realm of the imagination would do little for scientific understanding. It would likely send the public in the wrong direction. But I didn’t have a countermove left in me. All I could do was heave myself off the bench and go back to the protected walls of my cave to work.
A few hours later, I slumped at the picnic table with a mug of peppermint tea. Caitlin sat on the bench across from me, her low, loose ponytail falling to the side. She gave me a long look and passed me one of the dry biscuits that she always kept in a roll in her pack. “Are you going to sleep in the village tonight?”
“I’ll just curl up on the cot again,” I answered. “If I can get an early start, I might be able to find more evidence of a lash. I am convinced that she wore the shell.”
“You think that will settle their questions?”
I didn’t answer.
“I know only one thing for certain,” she said. “There is going to come a day when you have to leave the site and have your baby. In, what, a week at most?”
“Maybe two.”
“You will need to focus on caring for the baby.”
“Hmm.” I nibbled on the biscuit.
“I want to assure you that I’ll be in regular communication, Rose. I’m happy to make a call schedule. As we both know, I’m not an expert. My job is to ensure that your processes are carried out.”
“The world doesn’t stop when the baby is born,” I said. “But my life does.”
“I can come to London if need be. It’s a short flight.”
“I might be here,” I said.
“Where?”
“The village. I’ll stay in the flat.”
“Oh, Rose.”
“Babies are born in France too. Many, in fact.”
“Yes, but Rose…babies. Don’t underestimate the work,” Caitlin said. “They are incredibly intensive things to care for.”
“As opposed to?”
Caitlin shifted uncomfortably before she spoke. “Well, honestly, gibbons, but you already know that.”
“Gibbons,” I repeated. “Have you seen those carrier slings that all the moms use?” I joked. “I can get one of those. That way I can still forage with a newborn.”
Caitlin didn’t smile.
I have long judged people by their willingness to laugh at the absurdity of life. Caitlin rarely did. Enjoying anything seemed to be out of her reach. She drank weak t
ea, she ate only plain biscuits, and her idea of colorful clothing was varying shades of beige. She reacted to my observations the same way she did to my jokes: with slightly pursed lips and a long stare. She let silences hang in the air until I found myself chattering just to fill the void.
“I’ll hang the little chap in a sling, a pretty floral fabric,” I went on now. “That leaves my big paws free to forage in the fridge.”
She kept her expression steady.
“I have opposable thumbs too.” I wiggled my fingers. “Good for grabbing cake.”
“The first months of life leave us extremely vulnerable,” she said. “The human infant is undeveloped and extremely needy. The mother becomes equally exposed.”
“Vulnerable,” I repeated darkly. Simon was right—it sounded vaguely like a threat. The hair on the back of my neck pricked.
“Caitlin?”
“Yes.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“You make me sound like an animal.”
Caitlin pressed her lips into a dry smile. “You are.”
I let out a laugh, which had the intended effect of making Caitlin stop talking. The awkward silence that followed started me giggling, which turned into another laugh. I started to wheeze when I realized that my bladder control was minimal and that I might well pee my pants while Caitlin stared. The absurd situation of my professional life combined with my lack of sleep to create a hopeless brew of hysteria. I kept laughing and trying not to pee for so long that Caitlin finally stood up and muttered, “Perhaps I’ll get Andy.”
I calmed down when the team gathered around the picnic table for the daily meeting. I was in the habit of debriefing and assigning tasks in the evening; that way I didn’t need to interrupt my work when the team trickled in each morning. Andy tried to pass around some Dr Peppers, but no one could stomach another can. I quietly apologized to Caitlin for my giggling fit, blaming my lack of sleep. She accepted my apology with a curt nod. I was truly sorry if I had offended her, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. My thoughts turned back to the team and the work we had to do.
I gave a brief overview of the videoconference. I said that the museum was happy to make the two skeletons the centerpiece of the exhibit and put forward our theories. It was all technically true and when I said it out loud, I saw the smiles on their faces. For a moment, I had trouble remembering why I had felt so threatened. But I did, because of who had said what, and I didn’t have enough energy to get into that. Instead I said that I was sure that our site would make a mark on science. “I’m absolutely confident.”
“Of that, Rose, we have no doubt,” said Andy.
Maybe Andy meant it kindly, but someone laughed too hard. I snapped my head around to see who it was. What exactly did Andy mean, and what was so funny? The team all pulled their faces straight at once.
“You’ve brought us a long way, Rose.” Caitlin stepped in. “We are all proud of what you’ve accomplished.” She spoke of my work in the past tense. There were nods all around and a few murmurs of agreement that were intended to dispel the tension. I felt the balance of power in the group tilt, as though the dirt under our feet slanted toward Caitlin. Instincts drive people to huddle around the strong. The authority had shifted. The change in me now felt complete. I had turned into a vessel for the baby.
21.
Girl and Runt arrived at the camp of Big Girl, and the signs of Girl’s sister were unmistakable. There was a large hearth at the center; a leather sack and a stone tooth lay forgotten, or perhaps they had been left behind while the body that made them went on a hunt, and a hut roughly in the shape of a bison was tucked against a low cliff.
“Aroo,” called Girl, her palm held up.
They walked toward the hearth, hearing only the sounds of their own soft feet on the dirt, and Runt skipped in wide-eyed anticipation. Though they had spent a happy enough summer, they both craved the company of others. Wildcat gave the camp one sniff and scampered into the brush.
“Aroo!”
There was no answer.
Girl closed her eyes, cupped her hand over one ear, and curled her top lip up. She stood still and let the currents of air drift around her. She let her mind glide over the land and felt for vibrations from the roots of the trees. If there was a family nearby, she would be able to feel them. The emptiness that clouded her body would break open and the rays of warmth would pour in for the first time since spring.
No feelings came.
Girl decided to second-guess her senses. She tried to block out the new smells and focus on what used to be. Maybe because Girl had been away for such a long time, her nose no longer held the family’s smell. After some searching and rustling around, Runt and Girl established that the camp was empty of any body who might respond. The family who lived there had been gone for some time. Still, Girl was certain that this was a temporary state. She didn’t know this land. Living on it might require different patterns. The family might be waiting at their crossing for the first sign of the bison. Or maybe they had made a large kill, big enough that hauling the meat back to the camp didn’t make sense. It must be that they had killed two or three beasts and were camped at the carcasses having a feast. The memory of blood dripping on her chin felt fresh. The heavy feel of winter was in the air. It was the time for filling the belly and caching meat for wintersleep.
Runt called out, “Eagle-see.” He had wandered to the back of the camp to inspect the hut. It was solidly built and tucked in for protection, but it looked partially broken down. All that was left was the frame and brittle branches over the top. The thickest fur hides, the ones that kept the weather at bay, were gone. The family must have taken them to another camp. They were heavy things to lug, not moved without a deliberate destination. The thick hide was always treated with the best care, as it took time and effort to cure, something usually done in high summer when the sun and heat aided the scraping, soaking, and drying. Curing another with the temperature dropping was difficult. There wasn’t enough time before the winter storms.
A crow flapped its wings overhead and drew Girl’s attention. Caw-caw-caw, said the bird who thrived on death and blood.
“Eagle-see,” Runt said again. This time there was no discovery or wonder in his voice. He was out past the hut, just beyond the natural bounds of the camp. He had found a body, Girl knew, more because of the crow than anything Runt’s voice told her. For a moment her thoughts turned inward. How had she not caught the scent of a body on the ground and the flat, damp air that always lies over one? As she walked toward Runt, she came across a slight mound of dirt. It sloped upward and had a healthy cover of plants, more so than the area around it. The canopy allowed some light through, but not enough to account for the extra growth. The source of nutrients was probably coming from below.
As Girl approached Runt, she saw his troubled look. He’d found the body using his eyes, not his nose. He stood back, hand to mouth, unable to take in what he saw, but also unable to look away. Girl’s first thought was that she had never missed such an obvious thing before. It was not hidden but out in the open. It had been chewed and pawed by scavengers and had long before started on its way to the other side of the dirt. But it had not been buried or disposed of in any way. Either it was alone when it died or it was left in place because the others were too weak to drag it farther. Or maybe they simply did not want to.
Girl didn’t register who the body might belong to because she saw the foot coverings first. Big Mother had told stories in the shadows about families that didn’t go to the meeting place, but Girl had never seen one of them. Maybe they put these strange things on their feet, because no other beast, bison, bear, or wildcat would ever do such a thing. The covers on the feet were made from a finely crafted hide, something that was lighter than bison hide; perhaps it was from a deer. The covers had delicate tendons pulled through the edges to wrap them tight around the foot and up the leg. There was a hard resin
like sap on the soles, maybe to reinforce the feet as they walked. They looked like awkward things to wear, too hot and tight. Girl much preferred to keep her body open to the breeze. Perhaps this body died from overheating, or from suffocation of the skin?
Girl flipped the remains of the body over. It took a moment for what she saw to settle in. The blowflies had left little of the corpse. There was a cavity for a broad nose, and a red shock of hair that slipped from the skull as it turned. The crawling bugs and flies had chewed away much of the flesh, but there was enough around the jaw to see pocks on the flattened skin.
“Sunbite.” She pointed.
The shape of the bison cloak around the remaining bones made Girl sure it was one of the family. In a slow turn of her mind, she came to see that the body looked like her. For two beats of her heart, she didn’t know where she was. Maybe she had died and was half in the dirt, looking back up at herself. In that moment, anything felt possible, but her thoughts caught up. And then there was the gap where the two front teeth had not managed to stay attached to the head. She saw the bison horns on this body’s head, whereas there were none on Girl’s. The sight clicked into place then. Girl was looking into the face of her dead sister.
Feeling like she had received a kick to her gut, Girl dropped to her knees, and the air rushed out of her body in one gasp. Here was one change too many. The careful equation of Girl’s life tilted. Her balance was lost. Too few things kept her feet rooted to the ground, as a tree that becomes vulnerable when the one next to it falls after a strong gust of wind. Her senses shut down. She could no longer see. She lost track of the land around her. Noise filled her head and she clutched her ears. They were her screams, although she barely recognized the sound.
The Last Neanderthal Page 19
