by Jean M. Auel
“I can only try. I will ask Ursus to help me. Spirits have a language of their own, Brun. If she is meant to join us, the totem that protects her will make himself understood.”
Brun considered for a moment. “But even if you can discover her totem, what hunter will want her? Iza and her baby will be burden enough, and we don’t have as many hunters. We lost more than Iza’s mate in the earthquake. The son of Grod’s mate was killed, and he was a young, strong hunter. Aga’s mate is gone and she has two children, and her mother was sharing that fire.” A hint of pain touched the leader’s eyes at the thought of the deaths in his clan.
“And Oga,” Brun continued. “First her mother’s mate was gored, and right afterward her mother died in the cave-in. I told Ebra to keep the girl with us. Oga is nearly a woman. When she’s old enough I think I will give her to Broud, that should please him,” Brun mused, distracted for a moment by thoughts of his other responsibilities. “There are burdens enough for the men who are left without adding the girl, Mog-ur. If I accept her into the clan, who can I give Iza to?”
“Who were you going to give her to until the girl would be old enough to leave us, Brun?” the one-eyed man asked. Brun looked uncomfortable, but Creb continued before Brun could respond. “There is no need to burden a hunter with Iza or the child, Brun. I will provide for them.”
“You!”
“Why not? They are female. There are no boys to train, at least not yet. Am I not entitled to the mog-ur’s portion of every hunt? I never claimed it all, I never needed it, but I can. Wouldn’t it be easier if all the hunters gave me the full share allotted to Mog-ur so I can provide for Iza and the girl, rather than have one hunter burdened with them? I planned to talk to you about setting up my own hearth when we found a new cave anyway, to provide for Iza, unless another man wants her. I’ve shared a fire with my sibling for many years; it would be difficult for me to change after so long. Besides, Iza helps my arthritis. If her child is a girl, I will take her too. If it is a boy, well … we can worry about it then.”
Brun mulled the idea over in his mind. Yes, why not? It would make it easier on everyone. But why does Creb want to do it? Iza would take care of his arthritis no matter whose fire she shared. Why does a man his age suddenly want to be bothered with small children? Why would he want to take on the responsibility of training and disciplining a strange girl? Maybe that’s it, he feels responsible. Brun didn’t like the idea of taking the girl into his clan—he wished the problem had never come up at all—but he liked even less the idea of having someone live with them who was an outsider, and outside of his control. Perhaps it was best to accept her and train her properly, as a woman should be. It might be easier for the rest of the clan to live with, too. And if Creb was willing to take them, Brun couldn’t think of any reason not to allow it.
Brun made a gesture of acquiescence. “All right, if you can discover her totem, we’ll take her into the clan, Mog-ur, and they can live at your hearth, at least until Iza has her child.” For the first time in his life, Brun found himself hoping that an expected child would be a girl rather than a boy.
Once the decision was made, Brun felt a sense of relief. The problem of what to do with Iza had been bothering him, but he had put it aside. He had more important problems to worry about. Creb’s suggestion not only offered a solution to a knotty decision he had to make as leader of the clan, but it solved a much more personal problem as well. Try as he might, ever since the earthquake that killed her mate, he could think of no other alternative than to take Iza and her expected baby, and probably Creb as well, to his own hearth. He was already responsible for Broud and Ebra, and now Oga. The addition of more people would create frictions in the one place he could relax and let down his guard a little. His mate might not have been too happy about it, either.
Ebra got along well enough with his sibling, but at the same fire? Though nothing had ever been said openly, Brun knew Ebra was jealous of Iza’s status. Ebra was mated to the leader; in most clans, she would have been the highest-ranked woman. But Iza was a medicine woman who could trace her lineage back in an unbroken line of the most respected, prestigious medicine women of the Clan. She had status in her own right, not through her mate. When Iza picked up the girl, Brun thought he’d have to take her in, too. It hadn’t occurred to him that Mog-ur might take responsibility not only for himself, but for Iza and her children too. Creb could not hunt, but Mog-ur had other resources.
With the problem solved, Brun hurried toward his clan, who were eagerly awaiting word from their leader to confirm what they had already guessed. He gave the signal: “We travel no more, a cave has been found.”
“Iza,” Creb said as she was preparing a tea of willow bark for Ayla. “I will not be eating tonight.”
Iza bowed her head in acknowledgment. She knew he was going to meditate in preparation for the ceremony. He never ate before meditating.
The clan was camped beside the stream at the foot of the gentle slope leading to the cave. Not until it had been consecrated by the proper rituals would they move in. Though it would be unpropitious to seem too anxious, each member of the clan found some pretext to get close enough to look inside. Foraging women made a point of searching near the mouth, and men followed the women, ostensibly to watch them. The clan was keyed-up but in a happy mood. The anxiety they had felt ever since the earthquake had vanished. They liked the look of the large new cave. Though it was difficult to see very far inside the dim, unlighted cavern, they could see enough to know it was spacious, much roomier than their former cave. The women pointed with delight at the still pond of spring water just outside. They wouldn’t even have to go as far as the stream for water. They looked forward to the cave ceremony, one of the few rituals in which women had their own part, and everyone was anxious to move in.
Mog-ur headed away from the busy campsite. He wanted to find a quiet place where he could think, undisturbed. As he walked alongside the swiftly running stream rushing to its meeting with the inland sea, a warm breeze blew from the south again, ruffling his beard. Only a few distant clouds marred the crystal clarity of the late afternoon sky. The undergrowth was thick and lush; he had to pick his way around obstructions, but he hardly noticed, his mind deep in concentration. A noise from the brush nearby brought him up short. This was strange country and his only defense was his stout walking stick, but in his one powerful hand it could be a formidable weapon of defense. He held it in readiness, listening to the snorting and grunting coming from the dense underbrush and the sounds of snapping branches from the direction of moving bushes.
Suddenly, an animal burst through the screen of thick growth, its large powerful body supported by short stocky legs. Wickedly sharp lower canines protruded like tusks along both sides of its snout. The animal’s name came to him though he had not seen one before. A boar. The wild pig glared belligerently at him, shuffled indecisively, then ignored him, and burrowing his snout into the soft earth, headed back into the brush. Creb breathed a sigh of relief, then continued downstream. He stopped at a narrow sandy bank, spread out his cloak, put the skull of the cave bear on it, and sat down facing it. He made formalized gestures asking Ursus for assistance, then cleared his mind of all thoughts except for the babies who needed to know their totems.
Children had always intrigued Creb. Often, when he sat in the midst of the clan, apparently lost in thought, he was observing the children without anyone being aware of it. One of the youngsters was a robust, strapping boy about halfway into his first year, who had howled belligerently at his birth and many times since, especially when he wanted to be fed. From the very first, Borg was always nuzzling his mother, burrowing into her soft breast until he found the nipple, and making little grunting noises of pleasure as he nursed. It reminded him, Creb thought with humor, of the boar he had just seen grunting as he burrowed into the soft earth. The boar was an animal worthy of respect. It was intelligent, the vicious canines could inflict serious damage when the beast was aroused, a
nd the short legs could move with amazing speed when it decided to charge. No hunter would disdain such a totem. And it will be suitable for this new place; its spirit will rest easy in the new cave. A boar it is, he decided, convinced the boy’s totem had shown himself so the magician would be reminded of him.
Mog-ur felt satisfied with the choice and turned his attention to the other baby. Ona, whose mother had lost her mate in the earthquake, had been born not long before the cataclysm. Vorn, her four-year-old sibling, was the only male around that fire now. Aga will need another mate soon, the magician mused, one who will take Aba, her old mother, too. But that’s Brun’s worry; it’s Ona I need to think about, not her mother.
Girls needed gentler totems; they could not be stronger than a male totem or they would fight off the impregnating essence and the woman would bear no children. He thought about Iza. Her saiga antelope had been too much for her mate’s totem to overcome for many years—or had it? Mog-ur often wondered about that. Iza knew more magic than many people realized, and she was not happy with the man to whom she had been given. Not that he blamed her, in many ways. She had always conducted herself properly, but the strain between them was apparent. Well, the man is gone now, Creb thought. Mog-ur will be her provider, if not her mate.
As her sibling, Creb could never mate Iza, it would be against all tradition, but he had long since lost his desire for a mate. Iza was a good companion, she had cooked for him and cared for him for many years, and it might be more pleasant around the hearth now without the constant undertone of animosity. Ayla might make it more so. Creb felt a flush of gentle warmth remembering her little arms reaching out to hug him. Later, he said to himself, first Ona.
She was a quiet contented baby who often stared at him solemnly with her large round eyes. She watched everything with silent interest, missing nothing, or so it seemed. The picture of an owl flashed in his mind. Too strong? The owl is a hunting bird, he thought, but it only hunts small animals. When a woman had a strong totem, her mate’s needed to be much stronger. No man with weak protection could mate a woman with an owl totem, but perhaps she will have need of a man with strong protection. An owl, then, he decided. All women need mates with strong totems. Is that why I never took a mate? Creb thought. How much protection can a roe deer give? Iza’s birth totem is stronger. Creb hadn’t thought of the gentle, shy roe deer as his totem for many years. It, too, inhabited these thick forests, like the boar, he suddenly remembered. The magician was one of the few who had two totems—Creb’s was the roe deer, Mog-ur’s was Ursus.
Ursus Spelaeus, the cave bear, massive vegetarian towering over his omnivorous cousins by nearly twice their standing height, with a gigantic shaggy bulk of three times their weight, the largest bear ever known, was normally slow to anger. But one nervous she-bear attacked a defenseless, crippled boy who wandered, lost in thought, too close to a young cub. It was the lad’s mother who found him, torn and bleeding, his eye ripped away with half his face, and she who nursed him back to health. She amputated his useless, paralyzed arm below the elbow, crushed by the huge creature’s enormous strength. Not long afterward, Mog-ur-before-him selected the deformed and scarred child as acolyte and told the boy Ursus had chosen him, tested him and found him worthy, and took his eye as a sign that Creb was under his protection. His scars should be worn with pride, he was told, they were the mark of his new totem.
Ursus never allowed his spirit to be swallowed by a woman to produce a child; the Cave Bear offered his protection only after testing. Few were chosen; fewer survived. His eye was a great price to pay, but Creb was not sorry. He was The Mog-ur. No magician ever had his power, and that power, Creb was sure, was given to him by Ursus. And now, Mog-ur asked for his totem’s help.
Clutching his amulet, he implored the spirit of the Great Bear to bring forth the spirit of the totem that protected the girl born to the Others. This was a true test of his ability, and he wasn’t at all sure the message would come through to him. He concentrated on the child and what little he knew of her. She is fearless, he thought. She had been openly affectionate to him, showing fear neither of him nor of the censure of the clan. Rare for a girl; girls usually hid behind their mothers when he was around. She was curious and learned quickly. A picture started to form in his mind, but he pushed it aside. No, that’s not right, she’s female, that’s not a female totem. He cleared his mind and tried again, but the picture returned. He decided to let it play out; perhaps it was leading to something else.
He envisioned a pride of cave lions lazily warming themselves in the hot summer sun of the open steppes. There were two cubs. One was leaping playfully in the tall sere grass, poking her nose curiously into the holes of small rodents and growling in mock attack. It was a she-cub; it was she who would grow into a lioness, the primary hunter of the pride; it was she who would bring her kill to her mate. The cub bounded up to a shaggy-maned male and tried to entice him to play. Fearlessly, she reached up with a paw and batted the adult cat’s massive muzzle. It was a gentle touch, almost a caress. The huge lion pushed her down and held her with a heavy paw, then began washing the cub with his long, rough tongue. Cave lions rear their young with affection and discipline, too, he thought, wondering why this scene of feline domestic felicity came to him.
Mog-ur tried to clear his mind of the picture, tried once more to concentrate on the girl, but the scene would not shift.
“Ursus,” he motioned, “a Cave Lion? It can’t be. A female cannot have so powerful a totem. What man could she ever mate with?”
No man in his clan had a Cave Lion totem, not many men in all the clans did. He visualized the tall, skinny child, straight arms and legs, flat face with a large, bulging forehead, pale and washed out; even her eyes were too light. She will be an ugly woman, Mog-ur thought honestly. What man is likely to want her anyway? The thought of his own repulsiveness crossed his mind, and the way women had avoided him, especially when he was younger. Perhaps she will never mate, she would need the protection of a strong totem if she had to live out her life with no man to protect her. But, a Cave Lion? He tried to remember if there had ever been a woman of the Clan with the huge cat for a totem.
She is not really Clan, he reminded himself, and there was no doubt her protection was strong or she wouldn’t be alive. She would have been killed by that cave lion. The thought crystallized in his mind. The cave lion! It attacked her, but it did not kill … or did it attack? Was it testing her? Then another thought burst through and a chill of recognition crept up his spine. All doubt was swept out of his mind. He was sure. Not even Brun can doubt it, he thought. The cave lion had marked her with four parallel grooves in her left thigh, scars she would carry for the rest of her life. At a manhood ceremony, when Mog-ur carved the mark of a young man’s totem on his body, the mark for a Cave Lion was four parallel lines carved into the thigh!
On a male, they are marked on the right thigh; but she is female, and the marks are the same. Of course! Why hadn’t he realized it before? The lion knew it would be difficult for the clan to accept, so he marked her himself, but so clearly, no one could mistake it. And he marked her with Clan totem marks. The Cave Lion wanted the Clan to know. He wants her to live with us. He took her people so she would have to live with us. Why? The magician was jarred by a feeling of uneasiness, the same feeling he had experienced after the ceremony the day she was found. If he’d had a concept for it, he would have called it a sense of foreboding, yet tinged with a strange unnerving hope.
Mog-ur shook it off. Never had a totem come so strongly to him before; that was what unnerved him, he thought. The Cave Lion is her totem. He chose her, just as Ursus chose me. Mog-ur looked into the dark empty eye sockets of the skull in front of him. With profound acceptance, he marveled at the ways of the spirits, once they were understood. It was all so clear now. He was relieved—and overwhelmed. Why should this small girl have need of such powerful protection?
5
Black-leafed trees waved and fluttered in the t
wilight breeze, dancing silhouettes against a darkening sky. The camp was quiet, settling down for the night. By the dim glow of hot coals, Iza checked the contents of several small pouches spread out in orderly rows on her cloak, glancing up now and then in the direction she had seen Creb leave. She was concerned about him off by himself in unfamiliar woods without weapons to defend himself. The child was already asleep, and the woman grew more worried as the daylight waned.
Earlier, she had inspected the vegetation growing around the cave, wanting to know the availability of plants to replenish and enlarge her pharmacopoeia. She always carried certain things with her in the otter-skin bag, but to her, the small pouches of dried leaves, flowers, roots, seeds, and barks in her medicine bag were only first aid. In the new cave she would have room for greater quantity and variety. She never went far without her medicine bag, though. It was as much a part of her as her wrap. More. She would have felt naked without her medicines, not without her wrap.
Iza finally saw the old magician hobbling back, and relieved, she jumped up to put the food saved for him on the fire to warm and started water boiling for his favorite herb tea. He shuffled up, then eased himself down by her side as she was putting her small pouches into the larger one.
“How is the child tonight?” he motioned.
“Resting easier. Her pain is nearly gone. She asked for you,” Iza replied.
Creb grunted, inwardly pleased. “Make an amulet for her in the morning, Iza.”
The woman bowed her head in acknowledgment, then she jumped up again to check the food and water. She had to move. She was so happy, she couldn’t sit still. Ayla is going to stay. Creb must have talked to her totem, Iza thought, her heart beating with excitement. The mothers of the two babies had made amulets that day. They were very obvious about it so everyone would know their children would learn their totems at the cave ceremony. It presaged good luck for them and the two women were almost strutting with pride. Was that why Creb was gone so long? It must have been difficult for him. Iza wondered what Ayla’s totem was but repressed an urge to ask. He wouldn’t tell her anyway and she would find out soon enough.
