The Clan of the Cave Bear

by Jean M. Auel

  Iza was beside herself with worry; she couldn’t understand the drastic change in Ayla. She knew it was because of Broud’s inexplicable interest in her, but why it should have that effect was beyond the woman. She hovered over Ayla, watching her constantly, and when the young woman first began to get sick in the mornings, she was afraid that whatever evil spirit had gotten into her was gaining a greater hold.

  But Iza was an experienced medicine woman. She was the first to notice when Ayla did not keep herself in the nominal isolation required of women when their totems battled, and watched her adopted daughter even closer. She could hardly believe what she suspected. But by the time another moon had passed and the summer was waxing into full heat, Iza was sure. Early one evening when Creb was away from the hearth, she beckoned to Ayla.

  “I want to talk to you.”

  “Yes, Iza,” Ayla replied, hauling herself up from her fur and slumping down in the dirt near the woman.

  “When was the last time your totem battled, Ayla?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ayla, I want you to think about it. Have the spirits fought within you since the blossoms dropped?”

  The young woman tried to think. “I’m not sure, maybe once.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Iza said. “You’re getting sick in the mornings, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. Ayla thought her sickness was because every morning that Broud wasn’t gone hunting, he was there, waiting for her, and she hated it so much, she was losing her breakfast, and sometimes her evening meal, too.

  “Have your breasts felt sore?”

  “A little.”

  “And they’ve grown larger, too, haven’t they?”

  “I think so. Why are you asking? Why all these questions?”

  The woman looked at her seriously. “Ayla, I don’t know how it happened, I can hardly believe it, but I’m sure it’s true.”

  “What’s true?”

  “Your totem has been defeated; you are going to have a baby.”

  “A baby? Me? I can’t have a baby,” Ayla protested. “My totem is too strong.”

  “I know, Ayla. I can’t understand it, but you are going to have a baby,” Iza repeated.

  A look of wonder crept into Ayla’s unresponsive eyes. “Can it be true! Can it really be true! Me, have a baby? Oh, mother, how wonderful!”

  “Ayla, you’re not mated. I don’t think there’s a man in the clan who will take you, even as second woman. You can’t have a child without a mate, it might be unlucky,” Iza motioned earnestly. “It would be best to take something to lose it. I think mistletoe would be best. You know, the plant with the small white berries that grows high in the oak. It’s very effective and, if properly handled, not too dangerous. I’ll make you a tea of the leaves with just a few berries. It will help your totem expel the new life. It will make you a little sick, but …”

  “No! No!” Ayla was shaking her head vigorously. “Iza, no. I don’t want to take mistletoe. I don’t want to take anything to lose it. I want a baby, mother. I’ve wanted one ever since Uba was born. I never thought it would be possible.”

  “But Ayla, what if the baby is unlucky? It might even be deformed.”

  “It won’t be unlucky, I won’t let it. I promise, I’ll take good care of myself so it will be healthy. Didn’t you say a strong totem helps to make a healthy baby once it succumbs? And I’ll take good care of it after it’s born, I won’t let anything happen. Iza, I’ve got to have this baby. Don’t you see? My totem may never be defeated again. This may be my only chance.”

  Iza looked into the pleading eyes of the young woman. It was the first spark of life she had seen since the day Broud beat her while she was out hunting. She knew she should insist that Ayla take the medicine; it wasn’t right for an unmated woman to give birth if it could be helped. But Ayla wanted the baby so desperately, she might go into a worse depression if she was made to give it up. And maybe she was right—it might be her only chance.

  “All right, Ayla,” she acquiesced. “If you want it so much. It would be best not to mention it to anyone yet; they’ll know soon enough.”

  “Oh, Iza,” she said, and gave the woman a hug. As the miracle of her impossible pregnancy filled her, a smile danced across her face. She jumped up, charged with energy. She couldn’t sit still, she just had to do something.

  “Mother, what are you cooking tonight? Let me help.”

  “Aurochs stew,” the woman replied, amazed at the sudden transformation in the young woman. “You can cut up the meat if you want.”

  As the two women worked, Iza realized she had almost forgotten what a joy Ayla could be. Their hands flew, talking and working, and Ayla’s interest in medicine suddenly returned.

  “I didn’t know about mistletoe, mother,” Ayla remarked. “I know about ergot and sweet rush, but I didn’t know mistletoe could make a woman lose a baby.”

  “There will always be some things I haven’t told you about, Ayla, but you’ll know enough. And you know how to test; you will always be able to keep learning. Tansy will work, too, but it can be more dangerous than mistletoe. You use the whole plant—flowers, leaves, roots—and boil it. If you fill the water up to here,” Iza pointed to a mark on the side of one of her medicine bowls, “and boil it down to a cup this size,” Iza held up a bone cup, “it should be about right. One cup is usually enough. Chrysanthemum flowers sometimes work. It’s not as dangerous as mistletoe or tansy, but not always effective, either.”

  “That would be better for women who tend to lose babies easily. It’s better to use something milder if it will work—less dangerous.”

  “That’s right. And Ayla, there’s something else you should know about.” Iza looked around to make sure Creb was still gone. “No man must ever learn of this; it is a secret known only to medicine women, and not all of them know it. It’s best not even to tell a woman. If her mate asked her, she’d have to tell him. No one will ask a medicine woman. If a man ever found out, he would forbid it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mother,” Ayla nodded, surprised at Iza’s secrecy and very curious.

  “I didn’t think you’d ever need to know this for yourself, but you should know it as a medicine woman anyway. Sometimes, if a woman has a very difficult birth, it’s best if she never has any more children. A medicine woman can give her the medicine without ever telling her what it is. There are other reasons that a woman might not want a child. Some plants have special magic, Ayla. They make a woman’s totem very strong, strong enough to stop a new life from ever starting.”

  “You know magic to prevent pregnancy, Iza? Can a weak woman’s totem become that strong? Any totem? Even if a mog-ur makes a charm to give strength to a man’s totem?”

  “Yes, Ayla. That’s why a man must never find out. I used it myself after I was mated. I didn’t like my mate; I wanted him to give me to another man. I thought if I never had children, he wouldn’t want to keep me,” Iza confessed.

  “But you did have a child. You had Uba.”

  “Maybe after a long time the magic loses strength. Maybe my totem didn’t want to fight anymore, maybe he wanted me to have a child. I don’t know. Nothing works all the time. There are forces stronger than any magic, but it worked for many years. No one understands spirits completely, not even Mog-ur. Who would have thought your totem could be defeated, Ayla?” The medicine woman glanced around quickly. “Now, before Creb comes, you know the little yellow vine with tiny leaves and flowers?”

  “Golden thread?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. Sometimes it’s called strangle weed because it kills the plant it grows on. Let it dry, crush about this much in the palm of your hand, boil it in enough water to fill the bone cup until the decoction is the color of ripe hay. Drink two swallows every day that the spirit of your totem is not fighting.”

  “Doesn’t it also make a good poultice for stings and bites?”

  “Yes, and that gives you a good reason to have it aroun
d, but the poultice is used on the skin, outside the body. To give your totem strength, you drink it. There’s something else you must take, while your totem is fighting. The root of antelope sage, dried or fresh. Boil it and drink the water, one bowl every day you are isolated,” Iza continued.

  “Isn’t that the plant with the ragged leaf that’s good for Creb’s arthritis?”

  “That’s the one. I know of one other, but I’ve never used it. It’s the magic of another medicine woman; we traded knowledge. There is a certain yam—it doesn’t grow around here, but I’ll show you how it is different from the ones that do. Cut it into chunks and boil it down and mash it into a thick paste, then let it dry and pound it into a powder. It takes a lot, half a bowl of the powder mixed with water to make it a paste again, every day you are not isolated, when the spirits are not fighting.”

  Creb entered the cave and saw the two women deeply engrossed in conversation. He could see the difference in Ayla immediately. She was animated, attentive, thoughtful, smiling. She must have snapped out of it, he thought, limping toward his hearth.

  “Iza!” he announced loudly to get their attention. “Must a man starve around here?”

  The woman jumped up looking a little guilty, but Creb didn’t notice. He was so pleased to see Ayla busily working and talking, he didn’t see Iza.

  “It’ll be ready soon, Creb,” Ayla motioned, and smiling, ran up and gave him a hug. It made Creb feel better than he had for a long time. As he settled down on his mat, Uba came running into the cave.

  “I’m hungry!” the little girl gestured.

  “You’re always hungry, Uba.” Ayla laughed as she picked up the girl and swung her around. Uba was delighted. It was the first time Ayla felt like playing with her all summer.

  Later, after they had eaten, Uba crawled into Creb’s lap. Ayla was humming under her breath while she helped Iza clean up. Creb sighed contentedly; it felt much more like home. Boys are very important, he thought, but I think I like girls better. They don’t have to be big and brave all the time and don’t mind cuddling in a lap to go to sleep. I almost wish Ayla were still a little girl.

  Ayla woke the next morning wrapped in a warm glow of anticipation. I’m going to have a baby, she thought. She hugged herself, lying in her furs. Suddenly she was eager to get up. I think I’ll go down to the stream this morning, my hair needs a washing. She bounced out of bed, but a wave of nausea overcame her. Maybe I’d better eat something solid to see if it will stay down. I’ve got to eat if I want my baby to be healthy. It didn’t stay down, but after she was up for a while, she ate again and felt better. She was still thinking about the miracle of her pregnancy when she left the cave and started for the stream.

  “Ayla!” Broud sneered, as he swaggered up and made the signal.

  Ayla was startled. She had forgotten all about Broud. She had more important things to think about, like warm cuddly nursing babies, her own warm cuddly nursing baby. Might as well get it over with, she thought, and patiently assumed the position for Broud to relieve his needs. I hope he hurries, I want to go down to the stream and wash my hair.

  Broud felt deflated. Something was missing. There was no response in her at all. He missed the excitement of forcing her against her will. Her seething hatred and bitter frustration, which she had never quite succeeded in covering before, were gone. She wasn’t fighting him anymore. She acted as though he wasn’t even there, as though she didn’t feel a thing. She didn’t. Her mind was in another realm, she no more noticed his penetration than his rebukes or sharp blows. It was just one more thing she had to accept and she resigned herself to it. Her calm, self-possessed serenity had returned.

  Broud’s enjoyment was in dominating her, not in the pleasure of the sexual experience. He found he wasn’t stimulated anymore; he had trouble maintaining an erection. After a few times of not reaching a climax at all, he backed off, and soon stopped altogether. It was too humiliating. She might as well be a stone, for all her response, he thought. She’s so ugly anyway, I’ve given her enough of my time. She doesn’t even appreciate the honor of the future leader’s interest.

  Oga welcomed him back, relieved that he seemed to be over his unfathomable attraction for Ayla. She hadn’t been jealous; it wasn’t something to be jealous about. Broud was her mate, and he gave no indication he was ready to give her up. Any man could relieve his needs with any woman he wanted, there was nothing extraordinary about that. She just couldn’t understand why he paid so much attention to Ayla when, for some strange reason, she obviously didn’t enjoy it.

  For all his rationalizing, Broud was galled at Ayla’s sudden indifference. He thought he had finally found a way to dominate her, to break down her wall of reserve once and for all, and he had discovered the pleasure it gave him. It made him all the more determined to find a way to get to her again.

  19

  Ayla’s pregnancy astounded the whole clan. It seemed impossible that a woman with as powerful a totem as hers could conceive life. Speculation was rampant about the spirit of which man’s totem had succeeded in overpowering the Cave Lion, and every man in the clan would have liked to claim the credit—and the boost to his prestige. Some felt it must have been a combination of several totemic essences, perhaps the entire male population, but most opinions fell into one of two camps, divided almost entirely along the lines of age.

  Proximity to the woman was the determining factor, which was why most men believed the children of their mates were the result of their own totem’s spirit. A woman inevitably spent more time with the man whose hearth she shared; the opportunity for swallowing his totem’s spirit was greater. Even though a man’s totem might call upon the assistance of another man’s totem during the ensuing battle, or any spirit that happened to be nearby, the vital force of the first totem had primary claim. A helping spirit might be honored with the privilege of beginning a new life, but it was at the discretion of the totem that asked for help. The two men who had been closest to Ayla since she had become a woman were Mog-ur and Broud.

  “I say it’s Mog-ur,” Zoug asserted. “He’s the only one with a totem stronger than the Cave Lion. And whose hearth does she share?”

  “Ursus never allows a woman to swallow his essence,” Crug countered. “The Cave Bear chooses those he will protect, as he did Mog-ur. Do you think a Roe Deer defeated a Cave Lion?”

  “With the Cave Bear’s help. Mog-ur has two totems. The Roe Deer wouldn’t have to go far for help. No one says the Cave Bear left his spirit, I’m only saying he helped,” Zoug contended hotly.

  “Then why didn’t she get pregnant last winter? She lived at his hearth then. It was only after Broud developed his attraction for her, though don’t ask me what he ever saw in her. It was after he spent so much time near her that the new life started. A Woolly Rhinoceros is powerful, too. With help, it could have overcome the Cave Lion,” Crug argued.

  “I think it was everyone’s totem,” Dorv put in. “The question is, who wants to mate her? Everyone wants the credit, but who wants the woman? Brun asked if any man was willing. If she’s not mated, the child will be unlucky. I’m too old, though I can’t say I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I’d take her if I still had a hearth of my own,” Zoug gestured. “She’s ugly, but she’s hardworking and respectful. She knows how to take care of a man. That’s more important than good looks in the long run.”

  “Not me,” Crug shook his head. “I don’t want the Woman Who Hunts at my hearth. It’s all right for Mog-ur, he can’t hunt anyway and he doesn’t care. But imagine coming back from a hunt empty-handed and eating the meat provided by my mate. Besides, my hearth is full enough with Ika and Borg and the baby, Igra. I’m just glad Dorv can still contribute. And Ika’s still young enough to have more—who can tell?”

  “I’ve thought about it,” Droog said, “but my hearth is just too full. Aga and Aba, Vorn and Ona and Groob. What would I do with another woman and child? What about you, Grod?”

  “No. Not unless B
run commands it,” Grod replied tersely. The second-in-command had never quite gotten over a certain uneasiness around the woman who was not born to the Clan. She just made him uncomfortable.

  “What about Brun, himself?” Crug queried. “He’s the one who accepted her into the clan in the first place.”

  “Sometimes it’s wise to consider the first woman before a man takes a second,” Goov commented. “You know how Ebra feels about the medicine woman’s status. Iza’s been training Ayla. If she becomes a medicine woman of Iza’s line, do you think Ebra would like to share a hearth with a younger woman, a second mate, with more status than she? I would take Ayla. When I’m mog-ur, I won’t be hunting as much; I wouldn’t care if she brought a rabbit or a hamster to the hearth. They’re just small animals anyway. I don’t even think Ovra would mind a second woman with more status, they get along well. But Ovra wants a baby of her own. It would be difficult for her to share a hearth with a woman and a new baby. Especially when no one ever expected Ayla to have one. I think it was the spirit of Broud’s totem who started it; it’s too bad he feels the way he does, he’s the one who should take her.”

  “I’m not so sure it was Broud’s,” Droog said. “What about you, Mog-ur? You could take her for a mate.”

  The old magician had been quietly watching the men’s discussion as he often did. “I’ve considered it. I don’t think it was Ursus or the Roe Deer that started Ayla’s baby. I’m not sure if it was Broud’s totem either. Her totem has always been an enigma; who knows what happened. But she needs a mate. It’s not only that the baby may be unlucky, some man needs to be responsible for it, to provide for it. I’m too old, and if it should be a boy, I couldn’t train him to hunt. And she can’t do it, she only hunts with a sling. I couldn’t mate her anyway. It would be like Grod mating Ovra, especially with Uka still his first mate. To me, she’s like the daughter of one’s mate, a child of one’s hearth, not a woman to be mated.”