by Jean M. Auel
Chapter 34
'There will be a more public ceremony when you are presented to the people as a Zelandoni, but the marks are made with acceptance, in private with only the zelandonia. As you increase in rank, and marks are added, they are made in the presence of zelandonia and acolytes, but never in public,' the Zelandoni Who Was First said. The large woman, who carried herself with the dignity and power her position conferred, asked, 'Are you ready?'
Ayla swallowed, and frowned. 'Yes,' she said, and hoped she was.
The First looked around the gathering, making sure she had everyone's attention. Then she began. 'This woman is fully trained to fulfil all the duties of the zelandonia, and it is the First Among Those Who Serve The Mother who attests to her knowledge.'
There were nods and sounds of acknowledgment.
'She has been called and tested. Are there any among us who question her call?' Zelandoni asked.
There were no dissenters. There was never any doubt.
'Do all here agree to accept this woman as a Zelandoni into the ranks of the zelandonia?'
'We agree!' came the unanimous response.
Ayla watched as the man who was Zelandoni of the Second Cave came forward and held out a bowl of something dark. She knew what it was; a part of her mind was observing, not just participating. The bark of mountain ash, called a rowan tree, had been burned in a ceremonial fire and then sifted in the wind to a fine grey powder. The ashes of rowan bark were astringent, antiseptic. Then the woman who was the Zelandoni from a distant Cave, the one unknown to her, brought forth a steaming reddish liquid: last autumn's dried rowanberries, boiled down to a concentrated liquid and strained. Ayla knew the juice from the rowanberries was acidic and healing.
Zelandoni Who Was First picked up a bowl of soft, white, partially congealed pure tallow that had been rendered with boiling water from aurochs fat, and added a little to the powdered ashes, then some of the steaming red rowanberry juice. She mixed it with a small carved wooden spatula, adding more fat and liquid until it satisfied her. Then she faced the young woman and picked up the sharp flint knife.
'The mark you will receive can never be removed. It will declare to all that you acknowledge and accept the role of Zelandoni. Are you ready to accept that responsibility?'
Ayla took a deep breath and watched the woman with the knife approach, knowing what was coming. She felt a twinge of fear, swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. She knew it would hurt, but that wasn't what she was dreading. Once this was done, there was no going back. This was her last chance to change her mind.
Suddenly she recalled hiding in a shallow cave, trying to squeeze herself into the stone wall at her back. She saw the sharp, curved claws on the huge paw of a cave lion reaching in, and screamed with pain as four parallel gashes were raked across her left thigh. Squirming away, she found a small space to the side and pulled her legs in closer, away from the claws.
Her memory of being chosen and marked by her cave lion totem had never been so clear and intense before. Reflexively, she reached for her left thigh to feel the different texture of the skin of the four parallel scars. They were recognised as Clan totem marks when she was accepted into Brun's clan, though traditionally a cave lion totem chose male, not female.
How many marks had been carved into her body in her life? Besides the four marks of her protective totem spirit, Mog-ur had knicked the base of her throat to draw blood when she became the Woman Who Hunts. She was given her Clan hunting talisman, the red-stained oval of mammoth ivory, to show that in spite of the fact that she was a woman, she was accepted as a hunter of the Clan, though only allowed to use a sling.
She no longer carried the talisman with her, or her amulet with the rest of her signs either, though at that moment, she wished she had them. They were hidden behind the carved, woman-shaped donii figure in the niche that had been dug out of the limestone wall of her dwelling at the Ninth Cave. But she did have the scar.
Ayla touched the small mark, then reached for the scar on her arm. Talut had cut that mark, and with the bloody knife had notched an ivory plaque that he wore suspended from a fantastic necklace of amber and cave lion canine teeth and claws, to show that she was accepted into the Lion Camp, adopted by the Mamutoi.
She had never asked, she had always been chosen, and for each acceptance she bore a mark, a scar that she would carry always. It was the sacrifice she'd had to make. Now she was being chosen again. She could still decline, but if she didn't refuse now, she was committed for life. It crossed her mind that the scars would always remind her that there were consequences to being chosen, responsibilities that came with acceptance.
She looked into the eyes of the woman. 'I accept, I will be Zelandoni,' Ayla said, trying to sound firm and positive.
Then she closed her eyes and felt someone come up behind the stool on which she was seated. Hands, gentle but firm, pulled her back to rest on the soft body of a woman for support, then held her head and turned it so that her right forehead was presented. She felt a wash of liquid from something soft and wet wiped across her forehead, recognised the odour of iris root, a solution she had often used to clean wounds, and felt an anxious tension arise within her.
'Oh! Ow!' she cried out involuntarily as she felt the quick cut of a sharp blade, then fought to control such outbursts at a second cut, and then a third. The solution was applied again, then the cuts were dried, and another substance was rubbed in. This time the pain stung like a burn, but not for long; something in the stinging salve had numbed the pain.
'You can open your eyes, Ayla. It's over,' the large woman said.
Ayla opened her eyes to see a rather dim, unfamiliar image. It took her a moment to realise what she was seeing. Someone was holding up a reflector and a lighted lamp so she could see herself in the oiled piece of sand-smoothed, black-stained wood. She seldom used a reflector, didn't even have one in her dwelling, and was always surprised to see her own face. Then her eyes were drawn to the marks on her forehead.
Just in front of her right temple was a short horizontal line with two vertical lines extending up from each end of about the same length, like a square with no top line or an open box. The three lines were black, with a little blood still oozing out around the edges. They looked so conspicuous, they seemed to diminish everything else. Ayla wasn't at all sure that she liked having her face marred like that. But there was nothing she could do about it now. It was done. She would carry those black marks on her face for the rest of her life.
She started to reach up to feel it, but the First stopped her. 'It's best if you don't touch it just yet,' she said. 'It has almost stopped bleeding, but it's still fresh.'
Ayla looked around at the rest of the zelandonia. They all had various marks on their foreheads, some more intricate than others, mostly square but with other shapes as well, many filled in with colour. The markings of the First were the most elaborate of all. She knew they designated rank, position, affiliation of the zelandonia. She noticed, however, that the black lines faded to blue tattoos after they healed.
She was glad when they took the reflector away. She didn't like looking at herself. It made her uncomfortable to think that the strange, dim image of the face she saw belonged to her. She preferred to see herself reflected in the expressions of others: the happiness of her daughter when she saw her mother, the pleasure of seeing herself in the aspect and demeanour of people she cared about, like Marthona, and Proleva, Joharran, and Dalanar. And the look of love in Jondalar's eyes when he saw … not anymore … The last time he saw her, he was horrified. His look showed shock and dismay, not love.
Ayla closed her eyes to shut off impending tears, and tried to control her feelings of loss, disappointment, and pain. When she opened them and looked up, all the zelandonia were standing in front of her, including the two new ones, a woman and a man, who had been on guard outside, and all of them had warm smiles of anticipation and welcome. The One Who Was First spoke:
'You have travelled far, ha
ve belonged to many people, but your feet have always led you along the path the Great Earth Mother chose for you. It was your fate to lose your people at an early age, and then be taken in by a healer and a man who travelled the spirit world of those people you call the Clan. When you were adopted by the Mamut of the Mamutoi to the Mammoth Hearth that honours the Mother, your way was guided by She Who Gave Birth to All. Your destiny has always been to Serve Her.
'Ayla of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, mated to Jondalar of the Ninth Cave, son of Marthona, former leader of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii; Mother of Jonayla, Blessed of Doni, of the Ninth Cave of the Zelandonii, who was born to the hearth of Jondalar; Ayla of the Mamutoi, member of the Lion Camp of the mammoth hunting people to the east, Daughter of the Mammoth Hearth, the zelandonia of the Mamutoi; Ayla, chosen by the spirit of the Cave Lion and Protected by the Cave Bear of the Clan, your names and ties are many. Now they are no longer needed. Your new name means all of them, and more. Your name is one with all of Her creation. Your name is Zelandoni!'
'Your name is one with all of Her creation. Welcome Zelandoni!' the assembled group said in unison.
'Come, join with us in the Mother's Song, Zelandoni of the Ninth Cave,' said the One Who Was First, and the group began entirely in unison.
Out of the darkness, the chaos of time,The whirlwind gave birth to the Mother sublime …
When they reached the verse that had always been the last, only the One Who Was First continued in her beautiful rich voice: The Mother was pleased with the pair she created,She taught them to love and to care when they mated.She made them desire to join with each other,The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother.Before She was through, Her children loved too.
The whole group sang the last line; then they all looked expectantly at Ayla. It took her moment to comprehend; then in a strong voice with an exotic accent, Ayla didn't sing, but spoke alone.
Her last Gift, the Knowledge that man has his part.His need must be spent before new life can start.It honours the Mother when the couple is paired,Because woman conceives when Pleasures are shared.Earth's Children were blessed. The Mother could rest.
The group finished the final line, and stood silently for a while; then they broke up and relaxed. A large container of tea was brought out, and each one took out individual cups from pouches and pockets.
'The question now is, how do we tell the rest of the Zelandonii about the last Gift?' said the One Who Was First, as she casually sat on her stool.
The question brought an uproar. 'Tell them!' 'We can't tell them!' 'It would be too much for them.' 'Think how much it would upset everything.'
The First waited until the disturbance settled down; then she looked at the assembled zelandonia with a fierce glare. 'Do you think Doni made this known so you could withhold it from Her Children? Do you think Ayla suffered those agonies, or that she was required to sacrifice her baby just so the zelandonia would have something to argue about? The zelandonia are Those Who Serve The Mother. It is not for us to say whether or not Her children may know. It is our task to decide how to tell them.'
There was contrite silence; then the Zelandoni of the Fourteenth said, 'It will take time to plan an appropriate ceremony. Perhaps we should wait until next year. This season is almost over. Everyone will be going back soon.'
'Yes,' the Zelandoni of the Third quickly agreed. 'Perhaps the best way would be to let each zelandoni tell his own Cave, in his own way, after he's had some time to think about it.'
'The ceremony will be held three days from now and Ayla will tell them,' the First announced unequivocally. 'It was Ayla who was given the Gift. It is her place, her duty to tell the rest. She was called this season, and sent to this Summer Meeting for that reason.' The First glared at her fellow Doniers; then her expression softened, and her tone became cajoling. 'Wouldn't it be better to get it over with now? With the season so close to the end, there won't be time for too many difficulties to arise before we leave — and you can be sure there will be difficulties — but this way we will have all winter to get our own Caves used to the idea. By next season there shouldn't be any reason for problems.'
The First wished she really believed that. Unlike the rest of the zelandonia, the First had thought about a man's contribution to creating new life for many years, even before her first conversation with Ayla. The fact that Ayla had come to her own similar conclusions was one of the reasons the woman had wanted her to become Zelandoni. Her observations were too perceptive, and she wasn't restricted by Zelandonii beliefs fed to her with mother's milk.
That was why Zelandoni had decided as soon as she heard Ayla tell about her experience in the cave, that the idea must be made known immediately, when everyone was still together. And while the zelandonia were still bewildered by it. She would have set the ceremony for the next day if she had thought it was possible to arrange it.
As she often did under the guise of resting or meditating, and seeming to ignore her surroundings, the woman waited and watched for a while as the zelandonia began to make plans. At first they were tentative.
She heard the Eleventh say, 'Maybe a good approach might be to try to duplicate Ayla's own experience.'
'We don't have to show her entire experience, just the essence of it,' said the Twenty-third.
'If we had a cave large enough to hold everyone, it would help,' the Zelandoni of the Second Cave said.
'We'll have to let the darkness of night act as the walls of a cave,' the Fifth said. 'If we have just one fire in the middle, it will help to concentrate everyone's attention.'
Good, the First thought, listening to the Doniers speaking among themselves. They are starting to think of how to plan the ceremony rather than thinking of objections to it.
'We should have drums for the Mother's Song.'
'And singing.'
'The Ninth doesn't sing.'
'Her voice is so distinctive, it doesn't matter.'
'We can have singing in the background. Without words, just the sound.'
'If we slow the cadence of the drums, the Mother's Song will have a greater impact, especially at the end when she speaks the last verse.'
Ayla seemed at a loss with all the attention as more suggestions were made for her part, but after a while even she seemed to be getting involved with the arrangements. 'The visitors from the Mamutoi, the two young men, Danug and Druwez, they know how to play drums so that they actually sound like a voice speaking. It's uncanny, but very mysterious. I think they could make the drums speak the final verse, if they brought their drums, or can find something similar.'
'I would like to hear it first,' said the Fourteenth.
'Of course,' Ayla said.
More than she realised, Ayla was incredibly wise in the ways of people, and much more sophisticated and knowledgeable than she knew. The tactics of the Zelandoni Who Was First in pushing the zelandonia into creating the ceremony were not lost on Ayla. On a sometimes subliminal and sometimes fully aware level, she had watched the First mould the rest to her will. The woman was quick to press her advantage, knew when to bluster, when to threaten, when to cajole, wheedle, criticise, praise — and the zelandonia were not easily led. As a group they were clever, shrewd, often cynical, and on the whole more intelligent than most. Ayla remembered Jondalar asking Zelandoni once what made a Zelandoni First? Even then, she knew just how much to say, just how much to hold back.
Zelandoni relaxed. They were into it now. It would gain momentum of its own accord. Her problem most of the time was to keep them from getting too carried away. This time she was going to let them take on just as much as they wanted. The more spectacular, the better. If I let them plan it big enough, and elaborate enough, they won't have time to think about anything else until after the ceremony.
When the general outline for the ceremony had begun to take shape, and most of the zelandonia were developing a decided interest in the event, Zelandoni Who Was First hurled another surprise at them.
Getting
up to get more tea, she made an ostensibly offhand comment. 'I imagine we'll also have to make plans for a camp meeting a day or so after the ceremony to answer questions that are bound to come up. We might as well get them out of the way all at once. That's when we can announce the name for the relationship between a man and his children, and tell them that the men will name the boys from now on,' she said.
The consternation of the zelandonia was immediate. Most hadn't had time to think about what changes the new knowledge was going to make.
'But a mother has always named her own children!' one of them said.
Zelandoni caught a few sharp looks. That's what she had been afraid of; some of them were going to start thinking. As a group, it was not wise to underestimate the zelandonia.
'How are the men going to realise that they are an essential if we don't let them take some part?' the First asked. 'It doesn't really change anything. Coupling will still be a Pleasure. Men are not going to start giving birth, and a man will still need to provide for the woman he has taken to his hearth and her children, especially while she is confined close to home and with small children. Naming a male child is a small thing; women will still name the females,' the woman cajoled.
'In the Clan the mog-urs named all the children,' Ayla mentioned. Everyone stopped and looked at her. 'I was very pleased to be able to name my daughter. I was nervous about it, but it was very exciting, and it made me feel very important.'
'I think the men would feel the same way,' the First said, grateful for Ayla's unplanned support.
There were nods and grunts of approval. No one brought up any further objections, at least for the moment.
'What about the name of the relationship? Have you a name for it already?' the Zelandoni from the Twenty-ninth Cave asked, with a hint of suspicion.
'I thought I would meditate and see if I could think of something appropriate for children to call the men who shared in giving them life, to distinguish them from other men. Perhaps we should all think about it,' the One Who Was First said.
