The Land of Painted Caves

by Jean M. Auel

  The crowd broke out in conversation and Joharran heard various comments and questions. “I don’t know if we can be ready by then.” “I need to talk to my mate.” “We aren’t packed yet.” “Won’t he wait another day or so?” The leader let it go on for a few moments; then he spoke again.

  “I don’t think it’s fair to ask the Third Cave to wait for us. They want to find a good place, too. I need an answer now so I can send a runner back to him,” he said. “One person from each hearth must make the decision. If most of you think you can be ready, we’ll leave in the morning. Those who want to go then, come and stand to my right.”

  There was an initial hesitation, then Solaban and Rushamar walked up and stood on Joharran’s right. Jondalar looked at Ayla, who smiled and nodded; then he moved to stand beside them on his brother’s right. Marthona did the same. Then a few more came up and joined them. No one moved to his left side, which would have indicated an unwillingness to leave so soon, but several were hanging back.

  Ayla was using the counting words as each person joined the group, saying the word under her breath and tapping a finger on her thigh at the same time. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one—how many hearths are there?” she wondered. When she reached thirty, it was obvious that most of the people had decided they could be ready by the following morning. The idea of getting there faster and finding a more desirable location was a powerful incentive. After five more people joined them, she tried to count the hearths left. There were quite a few still undecided people milling around, but she thought they represented only seven or eight hearths.

  “What about those who are not ready by then?” a voice from the undecideds spoke out.

  “They can come along later, on their own,” Joharran said.

  “But we always go as a Cave. I don’t want to go alone,” a person said.

  Joharran smiled. “Then make sure you are ready by morning. As you can see, most people have decided they can leave then. I’m sending a runner to Manvelar to tell him we’ll be ready to join the Third Cave tomorrow morning.”

  With a Cave the size of the Ninth, there were always a few who couldn’t make the trip, at least not then—people who were sick or injured, for example. Joharran assigned a few people to stay with them to hunt and help take care of those left behind. The helpers would be replaced after about a half a Moon, so they wouldn’t miss out on the entire Summer Meeting.

  The people of the Ninth Cave were up much later than usual, and in the morning when everyone started gathering, a few were obviously tired, and grumpy. Manvelar and the Third Cave had arrived fairly early and were waiting in the open area that was just beyond the dwellings, toward Down River, not far from the place where Ayla and Jondalar lived. Marthona, Willamar, and Folara were ready early and had come to their dwelling, so some of their things could be packed on the horses or the travoises.

  They also brought some food for a morning meal to share with Manvelar and a few others. The evening before, Marthona had suggested to her sons that it might be appropriate for her and Jondalar to entertain Manvelar and his family at Ayla’s dwelling—so called since Jondalar had made it for her—and therefore allow Joharran and Proleva to get the rest of the Cave organized for the trek across country to Sun View, the home of the Twenty-sixth Cave of the Zelandonii, the place of the Summer Meeting.

  5

  It was a large group—nearly two hundred fifty people—that started out later that morning, most of the Ninth and Third Caves. Manvelar and the Third Cave took the lead, heading down the slope from the eastern end of the stone shelter. Unlike the vegetation of Grass River Valley near the Third Cave, where they found the lions, the path from the northeastern edge of the stone porch of the Ninth Cave led down to a small tributary of The River, called Wood River, because its protected valley was unusually rich with trees.

  Wooded areas were rare during the Ice Age. The edge of the glaciers that covered a quarter of the earth’s surface were not very far to the north, and created conditions of permafrost in the nearby periglacial regions. In the summer the top layer melted to various depths, depending on conditions. In cool, shaded areas with heavy moss or other insulative vegetation, the ground melted only a few inches, but where the land was exposed to direct sunlight, it softened more, enough to allow an abundant grass cover.

  For the most part, conditions did not favor the growth of trees with their deeper root systems, except in certain locations. In places that were protected from the coldest winds and the hardest frosts, several feet of topsoil might be thawed, enough for trees to take root. Gallery forests often sprung up alongside the water-saturated edges of rivers.

  Wood River Valley was one of those exceptions. It had a relative abundance of both coniferous and deciduous trees and brush, including varieties of fruit and nut trees. It was an amazingly rich resource that provided a wealth of materials, especially firewood, for those who lived near enough to benefit, but it wasn’t a dense forest. It was more like a narrow valley parkland with open clearings of meadows and lovely glades between heavier wooded patches.

  The large band traveled northwest through Wood River Valley for about six miles of gentle upgrade, a very pleasant beginning of the trek. At a tributary that cascaded down a hillside on the left, Manvelar stopped. It was time for a rest and to let some of the stragglers catch up. Most people built small fires to make tea; parents fed children and snacked on traveling food, dried strips of meat or pieces of fruit or nuts saved from the previous year’s harvest. A few ate some of the special traveling cakes that nearly everyone had, a mixture of dried meat ground fine, dried berries or small chunks of other fruit, and fat, shaped into patties or cakes and wrapped in edible leaves. They were filling, high-energy food but they took some effort to prepare and most people saved them for later when they wanted to cover long distances quickly or were stalking game and didn’t want to start a fire.

  “This is where we turn,” Manvelar said. “From now on, if we just continue due west, when we reach West River, we should be close to the Twenty-sixth Cave and the floodplain, which is where the Summer Meeting will be held.” He was sitting with Joharran and several others. They looked at the hills rising up on the west bank and the tumultuous tributary tumbling down the slope.

  “Should we camp here tonight?” Joharran asked, then looked up at the sun to check its path across the sky. “It’s a little early, but we got off to a late start this morning, and that looks like a hard climb. We might be able to handle it better after a good night’s rest.” He feared it might be hard for some.

  “Only for the next few miles, then it levels out on higher ground, more or less,” Manvelar said. “I usually try to make the climb first, then stop and set up camp for the night.”

  “You’re probably right,” Joharran said. “It’s better to have this behind us and start out fresh in the morning, but some people may find this climb more difficult than others.” He looked hard at his brother, then flicked his eyes toward their mother, who had just arrived, and seemed grateful to sit and rest. He had noticed that she seemed to be having a harder time than usual.

  Jondalar caught the silent signal, and turned toward Ayla. “Why don’t we stay back and bring up the rear, and direct any stragglers who may have fallen behind.” He motioned toward a few others who were still coming.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea. The horses would rather be behind everyone, anyway,” she said, lifting Jonayla up and patting her back. She had finished nursing, but seemed to want to play around at her mother’s breast. She was awake and lively, and giggled at Wolf, who happened to be behind them. He reached out and licked her face and the milk dribbling down her chin, which made her giggle more. Ayla, too, had seen the signal pass between Joharran and Jondalar, and like Joharran, she had noticed that Marthona seemed to be slowing as the day progressed. She had noticed that Zelandoni, who had just arrived, had been falling back also, but she wasn’t sure if it was because she was tiring, or if she was slowing down to keep pace with Marth
ona.

  “Is there some hot water to make tea?” Zelandoni said when she reached them, pulling out the pouch in which she kept her medicines, and bustling around preparing to make her tea. “Have you had any tea yet, Marthona?” Even before the woman shook her head from side to side to indicate that she hadn’t, the Donier continued, “I’ll make some for you along with mine.”

  Ayla watched them both closely and quickly realized that Zelandoni had also noticed that Marthona seemed to be having some difficulty with the hike, and was preparing some medicinal tea for her. Marthona knew it, too. Many people seemed to be concerned for the woman, but they were keeping it at a subtle undercurrent. Ayla could tell, however, that no matter how they tried to minimize it, they were genuinely worried. She decided to see what Zelandoni was doing.

  “Jondalar, will you take Jonayla? She’s fed and wide awake and wants to play,” Ayla said, giving the baby to him.

  Jonayla waved her arms and smiled at him and Jondalar smiled back as he took her. It was obvious that he adored this baby girl, this child of his hearth. He never seemed to mind taking care of her. To Ayla he seemed more patient with her than she was. Jondalar himself was a little surprised at the strength of his feeling for her, and wondered if it was because for a time, he had doubted that there would ever be a child of his hearth. He feared he had offended the Great Earth Mother when he was young by wanting to mate with his donii-woman, and wasn’t sure She would ever choose a piece of his spirit to mix with the spirit of a woman to create a new life.

  That was what he had been taught. The creation of life was caused by the spirits of women mingling with the spirits of men with the help of the Mother, and most people he knew, including those he had met on his Journey, believed essentially the same thing … except for Ayla. She had a different view of the way new life came to be. She was convinced that there was more to it than just the mixing of spirits. She had told him that it wasn’t only his spirit that had combined with hers to create this new person, but his essence when they shared Pleasures. She said Jonayla was as much his child as hers, and he wanted to believe her. He wanted this child to be as much his as hers, but he didn’t know.

  He knew Ayla had come to that belief when she lived with the Clan, though it wasn’t what they believed either. She had told him that they thought it was totem spirits that caused a new life to start growing inside a woman, something about the male totem overpowering the female totem spirit. Ayla was the only one he knew who thought that a new life was begun by something more than spirits. But Ayla was an acolyte, training to become a Zelandoni, and it was the zelandonia that explained Doni, the Great Earth Mother, to Her Children. It made him wonder what would happen when the time came for her to explain how new life began to the people. Would she say that the Mother chose the spirit of a particular man to combine with her spirit the way the other Zelandonia did, or would she insist that it was a man’s essence, and what would the zelandonia have to say about it?

  When Ayla approached the two women, she noticed Zelandoni looking through her bag of medicinal herbs, and Marthona sitting on a log in the shade of a tree near Wood River. Jondalar’s mother did look tired, though it seemed to Ayla that she was trying not to make an issue of it. She was smiling and chatting with some people nearby, but she looked as if she would rather just close her eyes and rest.

  After she greeted Marthona and the others, Ayla joined the One Who Was First. “Do you have everything you need?” she asked quietly.

  “Yes, though I wish I had time to prepare a fresh foxglove mixture properly, but I’ll have to use the dried preparation I have,” the woman said.

  Ayla noticed that Marthona’s legs seemed a little swollen. “She needs to rest, doesn’t she? Not visit with those people who just want to be sociable,” Ayla said. “I’m not as good as you at letting people know they should let her be for a while, without embarrassing her. I don’t think she wants people to know how tired she feels. Why don’t you tell me how to make the tea for her.”

  Zelandoni smiled and said almost inaudibly, “That was perceptive of you, Ayla. They are friends from the Third Cave whom she hasn’t seen recently.” Then she quickly explained how to make the infusion she wanted, and approached the chatting friends.

  Ayla was concentrating on the instructions she had been given, and when she looked up, she saw that Zelandoni was walking away with Marthona’s friends, and Marthona had closed her eyes. Ayla nodded to herself; that will discourage others from stopping to talk, she thought. She waited awhile to let the hot drink cool, and just as she was bringing it to Marthona, Zelandoni returned. They both hovered around the former leader of the Ninth Cave, making a point of showing their backs while she sipped her tea, blocking the view of passersby. Whatever was in Zelandoni’s mixture, after a while it seemed to help, and Ayla thought that she would ask the Donier about it later.

  When Manvelar started out again, leading the way up the incline, Zelandoni followed, but Ayla stayed seated beside Marthona. Willamar had joined them, and was seated on the other side of his mate. “Why don’t you wait with us and let Folara go ahead,” she said. “Jondalar has volunteered to stay until the last, to make sure everyone gets started in the right direction. Proleva has promised to save something for us to eat whenever we get to the camp.”

  “I will,” Willamar said, without hesitation. “Manvelar said from here, it’s straight west for the next few days. How many days depends on how fast someone wants to go. No one has to be in a hurry. But it’s good if someone follows along at the end just to make sure no one is delayed because they got hurt or ran into some other problem.”

  “Or has to wait for a slow old woman,” Marthona said. “There may come a time when I won’t be going to Summer Meetings.”

  “That’s true for all of us,” Willamar said, “but not yet, Marthona.”

  “He’s right,” Jondalar said, holding a sleeping baby in one arm. He had just arrived after talking to a family group with several young children, making sure they got started in the right direction. The wolf was following behind, keeping watch on Jonalya. “It doesn’t matter if we take a little longer to get there. We won’t be the only ones.” He motioned toward the family starting the climb. “And once we get there, people will still be wanting your counsel and advice, mother.”

  “Do you want me to take Jonayla in my carrying blanket, Jondalar?” Ayla said. “We seem to be the last ones.”

  “I’m fine with her, and she seems comfortable. She’s sound asleep, but we have to find an easy way for the horses to get to the top of that waterfall,” he said.

  “I’m looking for the same thing. An easy way. Perhaps I should follow your horses,” Marthona said, not entirely in jest.

  “It’s not so much the horses—they are good climbers—it’s getting up there with the heavy pole-drags and the loads on their backs,” Ayla said. “I think we need to traverse our way up, making wide turns to allow for the poles they are dragging behind them.”

  “So you want an easy way with a gentle slope,” Willamar said. “As Marthona said, that’s what we want. If I’m not mistaken, I think we passed a gentler slope on our way here. Ayla, why don’t we walk back a ways and see if we can find it?”

  “Since Jondalar is so comfortable holding the baby, he can stay and keep me company,” Marthona added.

  And watch out for her, Ayla thought as she and Willamar started out. I don’t like the idea of her waiting alone. There are many animals that might wander by and think of her as fair game: lions, bears, hyenas, who knows what? Wolf, who had been resting on the ground with his head between his paws, got up and seemed uneasy when he saw that Jonayla was staying, but Ayla was getting ready to leave.

  “Wolf, stay!” she said, signaling the same thing to him. “Stay with Jondalar and Jonayla, and Marthona.” The wolf lowered himself back down, but his head was up and his ears cocked forward, alert to any other words or signals from her as she walked away with Willamar.

  “If we hadn’t
loaded the horses so heavily, Marthona could ride up that hill on a pole-drag,” Ayla commented, after a while.

  “Only if she were willing,” Willamar said. “I’ve noticed something interesting since you came with your animals. She has absolutely no fear of that wolf, who is a powerful hunter that could easily kill her if he chose, but the horses are another matter. She doesn’t like to get too close to them. She hunted horses when she was younger, but she fears them much more than the wolf, and they only eat grass.”

  “Perhaps it’s because she doesn’t know them as well. They are bigger, and can be skittish when they are nervous, or if something startles them,” Ayla said. “Horses don’t come into the dwelling; maybe if she spent more time with them, she wouldn’t be so anxious about them.”

  “Maybe, but first you’d have to persuade her, and if she gets it in her mind that she doesn’t want to, she’s very good at evading what you want and doing what she wants, without seeming to. She’s a very strong-minded woman.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Ayla said.

  Though they weren’t gone very long, by the time Ayla and Willamar returned, Jonayla had awakened and was now being held by her grandam. Jondalar was with the horses, checking their loads, making sure everything was securely fastened.

  “We found a better place to climb that ridge. In some places it’s a little steep, but it is climbable,” Willamar said.

  “I’d better get Jonayla,” the young woman said, heading toward Marthona. “She’s probably made a mess and doesn’t smell too good. She usually does when she wakes in the afternoon.”

  “She did,” Marthona said, holding the baby so that she was sitting on her lap, facing her. “I haven’t forgotten how to take care of a baby. Have I, Jonayla?” She bounced the infant lightly and smiled at her, and saw her smile returned along with some soft cooing sounds. “She is such a sweet little thing,” she added, giving up the child to her mother.