by Laura Jack
“You’re right,” Serena said quietly. “You would have won if it had been a longer distance.” Deema tried to consol him with a hug, but Brinan shrugged her off. He walked over to Solman and helped him up, smiling at the devoted affection Solman was getting from his wolf and was delighted when Ram turned his affection on him. Deema observed them thoughtfully, but said nothing.
Brinan stalked through the high, golden grass of the northern plain. His face streaked with yellow/brown ochre. Grass stalks, tucked into his headband, provided further camouflage. Dust had been rubbed on his armpits as imaginary horse dung to disguise his scent. Poised with a spear at the ready, he kept his eye on the hunt leader, Rufus. At a barely perceptible signal from Rufus both boys jumped up and rushed forward, launching their spears. Taking their cue, a back-up of hunters, including Callom and Serena also jumped up and rushed forward throwing their spears.
“A clean kill,” Rufus announced pulling the point of his spear out of a horsehide stuffed with grass. He made no mention of Brinan’s spear, which had missed the target and was quivering in the dirt. Brinan flushed with anger and embarrassment as he pulled his weapon out of the ground. Two failures in one day, he was so disgusted with himself he wanted to spit!
He couldn’t bear to be around Rufus and the crowd any longer and, sulking, returned to his campsite only to find his mother, Deema in an equally foul mood. Brinan knew at once why, when he saw Yossef, the elderly disagreeable Shaman of the Wolverine Clan, seated at their camp fire, deep in discussion with Tamo. Kronan was with him and didn’t look too happy about it.
“You know my views on women as Shamans, Tamo, you are making a grave mistake. It’s bad enough the tribe has so many women leaders …” he droned on pointedly ignoring the presence of Deema. Brinan looked at his mother, just as he expected, she looked ready to kill Yossef. Tamo spotted it too.
“It’s working out well for us and for many of the other Clans,” replied Tamo coming to her defence.
“You may think so Tamo but why have a girl as an Acoytle and one that is going to be a co-leader when I can offer you a perfectly good Acoytle from my Clan. Kronan is a remarkably intelligent boy and shows great promise.” The old shaman was stubborn and not to be swayed.
Brinan snorted, stifling a laugh. He liked Kronan, but everyone knew that the boy was not the sharpest flint in the tool box.
“I’m sure he is,” agreed Tamo shooting a warning look at Brinan. “I would be happy to take him on as an Acoytle but that would be denying you the pleasure of so gifted an apprentice.”
“Yes, I quite agree Tamo.” Deema said. Then, with barely concealed contempt she added; “and now Yossef, we will let you get on your way, I’m sure you have other camps that are waiting for you to grace with your presence.”
The old Shaman grunted and glowered at Deema, but he took the hint. He struggled to get up and Deema took his arm and hauled him to his feet. He brushed off her hand with another grunt and shuffled off muttering to himself. Kronan followed meekly behind, looking back at them sadly. Brinan realised Kronan probably would have liked to be with them at the Wolf Clan, he smiled at the boy. Kronan smiled back then followed his Shaman.
Deema watched them leave then sighed deeply.
“I really hate that man!”
Tamo and Brinan just nodded in agreement.
5 Serena’s Secret
It was late afternoon when the children returned to camp. Judging by the high spirits and flurry of activity, the horse hunt had obviously been a success. Scolded for being absent so long, the children were sent to help carry up the horsemeat, hooves and hides that were being butchered down in the valley. Serena did not like taking part in the butchering of animals. It was all right when it was cut into slabs and she could not identify it but she never liked to look upon the faces of dead animals – Deema said she was too sensitive and would grow out of it.
“Would you rather look upon starving children this winter than a dead horse now?” She would say. Serena felt deeply shamed but she could not change her feelings. Lodina was more sympathetic. “I used to feel the same way,” she said quietly. “You will get used to it. I accepted it more when I learnt that the butchered intestines and organs were similar to ours. It has helped me with my healing craft.”
Serena slipped away from the group. She wandered up the valley feigning some idea to collect berries, although it was getting late. She could still hear the sounds of chatter and laughter as she climbed, then just the laughter of the loudest - then silence. She found herself at the mouth of a cave. Curiosity overcame her. Was it so dangerous? She really wanted to see the sacred paintings. Peering into the cave, she could just make out a deep tunnel. She ought not to go in, not without anyone knowing. If she became lost or hurt, she would be trapped there forever. Then she had an idea.
From her haversack, she took out a ball of twine, tied the loose end to a branch and unravelled it as she entered the cave. I will only go as far as the length of twine that will be safe. Now she had a plan, the idea seemed a lot safer and even more appealing. She lit one of several torches that had been stacked just inside the entrance and walked deeper until she was out of sight of the entrance. She looked back and quailed for a moment as she thought of the trouble she would be in if she were caught. Stop being such a coward! She told herself firmly then proceeded to venture further down the passage. Stooping under the low roof she following the passage round a bend, where it dropped steeply down. Fear heightened her senses. She felt her way along the hard, damp wall. Water close by trickled down a stalactite, the drips echoing round the cavernous walls.
The tunnel opened out into a gallery. One monumental stalagmite rose up from the floor just missing touching the stalactite that grew down to meet it. A pool of water reflected more stalactites, giving the illusion of more stalagmites growing up but when Serena touched the pool, the illusion rippled and was lost. It was like magic. No wonder this place was sacred. The natural art of it fascinated her but when she spotted the first painting, she gasped in awe. It had been drawn many hundreds of years before even the Wolf Clan had existed and yet it was as clear and sharp as if it had been painted yesterday. It was an ibex, a type of wild goat. Painted with charcoal and ochres and cleverly using the natural contours of the rock to accentuate muscle tone and movement.
As she walked further, she found more paintings; most of them were grazers of the open plains, Aurochs, horses, bison and giant deer. She looked up to admire the horses – so like the ones that grazed around the caves. Some were just charcoal drawings. She noticed smaller images of cave lions and hyenas, as if they were in the distance, stalking the grazers - but no wolves. She wished she could draw something, to leave her mark too but feared the consequences.
One day I will find my own cave and I will paint images like this – of wolves for the Wolf Clan.
She got far enough with the twine to reach an image of a horse falling off a cliff, then noticed others lower down, as if they were all falling or had landed and died. Was the image painted to remind others that this was a way to hunt horses here, or the re-telling of the first ever horse hunt? She turned around and walked back, carefully winding up the ball of twine until she got outside the cave and untied it from the branch. She felt relieved. No one had seen her and she had left no clues that she had been there.
‘If you are going to break rules it was a good plan to set your own rules as a safe guard.’ She told herself and somehow that made it all right.
On reaching open ground, Serena stopped and looked down into the valley. The plains below the cliffs were crawling with activity. It reminded her of ants, scurrying around with an underlying order. Several headmen and women organised their own Clans into bringing up the carcasses of horses. She did not want to go, but at least she had not been there to watch the horses die. Over seventy horse carcasses were strewn at the base of the cliff. The unnatural angles at which their bodies lay revealed the way they had died.
The carnage had already
attracted a large gathering of vulture and kites overhead. On the ground, hyenas, foxes and wolverines loped beyond the range of the human hunters guarding their kills. Now and then one would dart in and try to make off with some meat or offal. Not all of them were lucky and a few wolverine and fox pelts added to the bounty. Although the massacre of so many horses seemed cruel, everything would be shared equally among the Clans. Nothing was ever wasted.
Serena made her way down to the carnage. Silently, almost reverently, she walked among the carcasses and found where the members of her own Clan were working. Avoiding Deema so she would not be questioned, she help with the butchering, acting as if she had been there all along. Her mind however, was back at the cave with those beautiful paintings.
Not all the horsemeat was being dried and stored for winter. Some of it was to be cooked fresh for the feast of Magda tomorrow night. Before the feast however, a great gathering was to be held. In the presence of the whole tribe of Magdalene, couples would tie the knot or severe the knot to end unhappy matches; babies would be named and young children given their birthstones. Clans adopted people into their caves; girls were given the rites of passage to womanhood and boys to manhood. It was a mass ceremony – presided over by all the Shamans of all the Clans, making it a deeply spiritual occasion. The celebrating and feasting that followed would last for several days.
The following afternoon, all the members of the Wolf Clan were gathered at their own camp. Deema and Shera were putting the final touches to the platters and dishes of food that they would bring out to the communal feast. People were getting changed into their best clothes.
Serena sat on her bed fur, watching the activity around her but her mind reeled with thoughts of the sacred cave. She was ready for the ceremony, dressed in a pale cream tunic that flared out to a skirt. It was decorated across the shoulder with a fringe of horsehair. The heart shaped neckline, hem and cuffs were trimmed with wolf fur. The colour of the leather deepened her blue eyes. Her light brown hair; bleached by days in the summer sun, shone gold in the sunlight. She was not yet a young woman, but no longer felt like a child.
Around her waist, she wore a heavily embroidered belt through which she had looped her pouch containing her personal talismans. Serena’s birthstone was amber for creative thought and serenity – the stone of the artist. She watched Matina get dressed. Today was an important day for the young child. She would receive her birthstone at the ceremony this afternoon. Matina was dressed similarly to Serena, but her woven tunic had been dyed with woad - a plant that produced a turquoise blue colour - and trimmed with tassels of creamy mouflon wool. She could not sit still for a moment, babbling with excitement. Serena gave up trying to tame her curls and just set a crown of daisies upon them instead. It was important to make the Clan members that took part in the ceremonies stand out - and Matina certainly did that.
Brinan wore a tunic of deep brown leather, burnished to a shine that match the brown of his eyes. The front of his tunic was decorated with tiny beads and the hollow bones of birds. He wore buckskin leggings, tied with a belt. A necklace of animal teeth, with a large wolf canine as the centrepiece, hung around his neck - all the men and boys of the wolf clan had a similar necklace; it marked out their status within the tribe. Their embroidered belts identified the women, each Clan having a unique combination of colours and pattern. He noticed Serena sitting alone. Everyone else had left.
“Are you coming?” He asked. “The ceremonies are about to start.”
“Yes, but Brinan wait. I have something to tell you.” Brinan hunkered down beside his sister.
“Promise me first you will tell no-one.” Serena hissed looking around to make sure they were not in earshot of anyone else.
“I promise - you know too many of my secrets for me to spill yours.”
Serena told Brinan about her visit to the cave, it was too much of a good thing not to and she was sure he would have shared with her.
“You should never have gone down there, but you were right to tell me. If you go again, let me know. Is the cave really scary?” Brinan asked.
“Not a bit, it’s beautiful and I figured a way to go in and out safely, will you come with me next time?” Brinan only nodded, thinking it funny how much harder it is to agree to illicit things aloud.
The birthstone ceremony followed the naming ceremony for babies. The Wolf Clan watch with pride and anticipation as Matina was taken before all the tribe’s Shamans by her mother to receive her birthstone. The little girl looked petrified; her usual brash cheerfulness was gone. She did not recognise Tamo with his wolf head and face painted and clung to her mother. The other Shamans were also heavily disguised to take on the spirits of their respective Clan totems. They were the mediums between this world and the spirit world.
They looked like something from the spirit world themselves, Brinan thought, remembering how scared he had been at that age when his birthstone had been given to him; Granite, the stone of leadership. Serena had a piece of the same stone as well as her piece of Amber; it had caused a great commotion. Their birthstone ceremonies had been special because they were future leaders, although that had been lost on them at such a young age.
Tamo stepped forward, raised his staff and called to the spirits present.
“Spirit of Magdalane, we have a child of your blessed – protect her Great Mother of Earth and Rock, Sea and Sky, Wind and Rain. Recognise the stone of her birth . . .”
A smile of recognition lit up Matina’s features. She leaned forward, lifted up the flattened head of the wolf from Tamo’s face and peeked under.
“Hullo daddy, why have you got a wolf on your head? Laugher erupted. Tamo winked at Matina and pulled his wolf mask back down. Lodina took Matina’s chubby hand away from the Shaman’s mask and kissed it absently while Tamo continued with the ceremony.
Matina’s birthstone was jade for healing and compassion. Her mother was delighted. Birthstones were not only a sign of a person’s character but the nature described by the birthstone gave an indication to what that person’s calling in life would be. Matina’s was highly appropriate and it came as no surprise that she shared the same birthstone as her mother, it often happened that way.
Clan adoptions followed the birthstone ceremony and the Wolf Clan accepted Ruban, along with his mother, Risella of the Aurochs Clan. Dovan, one of Argus’s young hunters had asked Risella to become his mate and to everyone’s delight, she had agreed. Women and children were always welcomed for adoption. Women for their ability to produce children – because children ensured the future survival of a Clan.
It was harder for men to be accepted. If they were young and strong and of good character; they would be valued as hunters and providers. Those that excelled in a specific skill or possessed a high status in their own Clan were always assured of a welcome. Outsiders were less acceptable and needed to offer something unique if they were to be accepted. This summer there were no outsiders vying for a place in the Tribe. Those that were here were only the usual seasonal visitors - traders, travellers, storytellers.
Brinan and Serena, as future leaders, had a part to play in this ceremony and stepped forward on cue with the members of their Clan to welcome Risella and Ruban.
“Risella of the Aurochs Clan you have been invited along with your son, Ruban to join with the Wolf Clan. Do you accept this offer?” The Shaman of the Horse Clan, Darak, ancient in the eyes of the children, presided over this ceremony. He wore a pure white horse hide with the skinned head over his head. The horse’s mane merged with his own mane of white hair making the metamorphosis even more believable.
“We accept and welcome...” Risella replied solemnly hugging her child. A sob broke out in the gathering. It was Risella’s mother, she was not happy to be losing her daughter. “Mother please don’t spoil it. We accept and welcome the offer.”
“Representatives of the Wolf Clan, do you accept this mother and child of the Aurochs Clan to join with you?” Recited the old Shaman.
“We accept and welcome this woman and her child.” Responded the Wolf Clan in unison – Serena and Brinan only mouthed the words, not sure of the right words.
“Leaders of the Wolf Clan you may welcome your newest members and may Magda shine her light and happiness on you all.” Concluded the old Shaman.
Deema and Arguus stepped forward and offered her the Wolf Clan’s Claich. Risella drank then offered a sip to Ruban. Risella then gave the cup back to Tamo.
Barak finished the ceremonies. He announced that the feasting would begin and wished everyone a happy and healthy year ahead for all Clans, raising his Claich in a toast. A cheer went up, as much for the announcement that the ceremonies were over as for the toast!
Early next morning, while most people slept off the effects of the previous evening’s celebrations, Serena and Brinan slipped away unnoticed. It was the perfect time. They climbed up the valley to the cave.
“Wait for me!” Hissed a voice not far behind them. Callom burst through the shrubs to join them. “Where are you going?”
Brinan looked at Serena for approval. She nodded. Callom had even more secrets than the two of them put together. “You mustn’t tell.”
“Hunter’s honour!” swore Callum making an arrowhead symbol with his hands.
“We’re going to the sacred cave.” Whispered Brinan just in case.
“No way!” Callom was shocked.
“You don’t have to come.” Serena snapped, then worried that if he did not he would tell.
“Serena’s already been…” Said Brinan.
“No way!”
“Yes, and you don’t have to be so surprised! Are you coming or not?” Hissed Serena.
Callom just nodded, in awe of her. Who would have thought shy, sensitive Serena would break such a rule? He grinned at her with new respect.
