Clan of the Cave Bear (32 page)

As difficult as it was for Ayla, it wasn’t all bad. Activities were at a slower pace and there were fewer chores to do. Even Broud could find only so many tasks before there were none left. As time went along, he got a little bored; there wasn’t any fight in her anymore, and the intensity of his harassment slackened. And there was another reason that Ayla began to find the winter more bearable.

At first, in an effort to find valid reasons for her to stay within the boundaries of Creb’s fire, Iza decided to begin training her in the preparation and application of the herbs and plants Ayla had been gathering. Ayla found herself fascinated with the art of healing. The girl’s avid interest soon involved Iza in a regular program and made the medicine woman think she should have begun sooner, as she became fully aware of just how differently her adopted daughter’s mind worked.

If Ayla had been her true child, Iza would only have had to remind her of what was already stored in her brain, to get her accustomed to using it. But Ayla struggled to memorize knowledge Uba was born with, and Ayla’s conscious memory wasn’t as good. Iza had to drill her, go over the same material many times, and constantly test her to make sure she had it right. Iza pulled information from her memories as well as her own experience and was surprised, herself, at the wealth of knowledge she had. She’d never had to think about it before; it was just there when she needed it. Sometimes Iza despaired of ever teaching Ayla what she knew, or even enough to make her an adequate medicine woman. But Ayla’s interest never flagged and Iza was determined to give her adopted daughter an assured status in the clan. The lessons went on daily.

“What is good for burns, Ayla?”

“Let me think. Hyssop flowers mixed with goldenrod flowers and cone flowers, dried and powdered together in
equal parts. Wet it and make it into a poultice, cover with a bandage. When it dries, wet it again with cold water poured on the bandage,” she finished in a rush, then paused to think. “And dried horsemint flowers and leaves are good for scalds; wet them in the hand and put them on the burn. Boiled roots of sweet rush make a wash for burns.”

“Good, anything else?”

The girl searched her mind. “Giant hyssop, too. Chew the fresh leaves and stalk for a poultice, or wet the dried leaves. And … oh, yes, boiled yellow-spined thistle blossoms. Put on as a wash after it’s cooled.”

“That’s good for skin sores, too, Ayla. And don’t forget that horsetail-fern ashes mixed with fat make a good burn ointment.”

Ayla began to do more of the cooking, too, under Iza’s direction. She soon took over the chore of preparing most of Creb’s meals, except, for her, it wasn’t a chore. She took pains to grind his grains especially fine before they were cooked to make it easier for him to chew with his worn teeth. Nuts, too, were chopped fine before she served them to the old man. Iza taught her to prepare the painkilling drinks and poultices that eased his rheumatism, and Ayla made a specialty of the remedies for that affliction of the older members of the clan, whose suffering invariably worsened with their confinement to the cold stone cave. That winter was the first time Ayla assisted the medicine woman, and their first patient was Creb.

It was midwinter. The heavy snowfalls had blocked the mouth of the cave several feet up. The insulating blanket of snow helped to keep the warmth from fires inside the large cavern, but the wind still whistled in through the large opening above the snow. Creb was unusually moody, vacillating from silence to grouchiness to apologetic repentance to silence again. His behavior confused Ayla, but Iza guessed the reason. Creb had a toothache, a particularly painful toothache.

“Creb, won’t you just let me look at the tooth?” Iza pleaded.

“It’s nothing. Just a toothache. Just a little pain. Don’t you think I can stand a little pain? Don’t you think I’ve had pain before, woman? What’s a little toothache?” Creb snapped.

“Yes, Creb,” Iza replied, head bowed. He was immediately contrite.

“Iza, I know you’re only trying to help.”

“If you’d let me look at it, I might be able to give you something for it. How can I know what to give you if you won’t let me see it?”

“What’s to see?” he motioned. “One bad tooth is the same as another. Just make me some willow-bark tea,” Creb grumbled, then sat on his sleeping fur gazing into space.

Iza shook her head and went to make the tea.

“Woman!” Creb shouted shortly afterward. “Where’s that willow bark? What’s taking you so long? How can I meditate? I can’t concentrate,” he gestured impatiently.

Iza hurried over with a bone cup, signaling Ayla to follow. “I was just bringing it, but I don’t think willow bark is going to be much help, Creb. Just let me look at it.”

“All right. All right, Iza. Look.” He opened his mouth and pointed at the offending tooth.

“See how deep the black hole goes, Ayla? The gum is swelling, it’s decayed through. I’m afraid it will have to come out, Creb.”

“Come out! You told me you just wanted to look so you could give me something for it. You didn’t say anything about taking it out. Well, give me something for it, woman!”

“Yes, Creb,” Iza said. “Here’s your willow-bark tea.” Ayla watched the exchange with amazement.

“I thought you said willow bark wouldn’t help much?”

“Nothing will help much. You can try a piece of sweet-rush root to chew, it might do some good. But I doubt it.”

“Some medicine woman! Can’t even cure a toothache,” Creb grumbled.

“I could try burning out the pain,” Iza motioned matter-of-factly.

Creb flinched. “I’ll take the root,” he replied.

The next morning Creb’s face was swollen and puffy, making his one-eyed scarred face more fearsome. His eye was red from lack of sleep. “Iza,” he moaned. “Can’t you do something for this toothache?”

“If you had let me take it out yesterday, the pain would be gone by now,” Iza motioned and went back to stirring a bowl of parched, ground grain, watching bubbles slowly rising with a gentle
pukkah, pukkah, pukkah
.

“Woman! Have you no feelings? I haven’t slept all night!”

“I know. You kept me awake.”

“Well, do something!” he exploded.

“Yes, Creb,” Iza said. “But, I can’t take it out now until the swelling goes down.”

“Is that all you can think of? Taking it out?”

“I can try one more thing, Creb, but I don’t think I can save the tooth,” she gestured sympathetically. “Ayla, bring me that packet with the splinters of charred wood from the tree that was struck by lightning last summer. We’ll have to lance the gum to reduce the swelling now, before we can get the tooth out anyway. We might as well see if we can burn out the pain.”

Creb shuddered at the instructions the medicine woman gave the girl, then he shrugged. It can’t be much worse than the toothache, he thought.

Iza sorted through the packet of splinters and withdrew two. “Ayla, I want you to get the tip of this one red hot. The end should be like a coal, but still strong enough so it won’t break off. Rake a coal out of the fire and hold the tip next to it until it smolders. But first, I want you to watch how to lance the gum. Hold his lips back for me.”

Ayla did as she was instructed and looked into Creb’s huge open mouth and at the two rows of large worn teeth.

“We puncture the gum with a hard sharp splinter beneath the tooth until the blood flows,” Iza gestured, then demonstrated.

Creb’s hand was clenched into a fist, but he made no sound. “Now, while this is draining, get the other splinter hot.”

Ayla quickly ran to the fire and soon returned with a smoldering ember on the end of the charred splinter. Iza took it, looked at it critically, nodded her head, and motioned to Ayla to hold back his lips again. She inserted the hot point into the cavity. Ayla felt Creb jerk as she heard a sizzle and watched a thin wisp of steam rise out of the large hole in Creb’s tooth.

“There, it’s done. Now we wait to see if that will kill the pain. If not, the tooth will have to come out,” Iza said after she swabbed the wound on Creb’s gum with a mixture of geranium and spikenard-root powders on the tip of her finger.

“It’s too bad I don’t have any of the fungus that is so good for toothaches. Sometimes it will deaden the nerve, often draw it out. Then I might not have to take the tooth.
It’s best to use when it’s fresh, but dried works, and it should be collected at the end of summer. If I find some next year, I’ll show you, Ayla.”

“Does your tooth still ache?” Iza asked the next day.

“It’s better, Iza,” Creb answered hopefully.

“But does it still hurt? If the pain isn’t completely gone, it will just swell up again, Creb,” Iza insisted.

“Well … yes, it still aches,” he admitted, “but not as much. Really, not as much. Why not wait another day or so? I have cast a powerful spell. I have asked Ursus to destroy the bad spirit that is causing the pain.”

“Haven’t you already asked Ursus many times to rid you of that pain? I think Ursus wants you to sacrifice your tooth before he will make the pain stop, Mog-ur,” Iza said.

“What do you know of the Great Ursus, woman?” Creb demanded irritably.

“This woman was presumptuous. This woman knows nothing of the ways of the spirits,” Iza replied with bowed head. Then, looking up at her sibling: “But a medicine woman knows about toothaches. The pain will not stop until the tooth comes out,” she motioned firmly.

Creb turned his back and limped away. He sat on his sleeping fur with his eye closed.

“Iza?” he called out after a while.

“Yes, Creb?”

“You are right. Ursus wants me to give up the tooth. Go ahead. Get it over with.”

Iza walked over to him. “Here, Creb, drink this. It will make the pain less. Ayla, there is a small peg near the packet of splinters and a long piece of sinew. Bring them here.”

“How did you know to have the drink ready?” Creb asked.

“I know Mog-ur. It is hard to give up a tooth, but if Ursus wants it, Mog-ur will give it. It is not the hardest sacrifice he has made to Ursus. A powerful totem is difficult to live with, but Ursus would not have chosen you if you were not worthy.”

Creb nodded and swallowed the drink. It’s from the same plant I use to help men with the memories, he thought. But I think I saw Iza boil it; she makes a decoction rather than an infusion. It’s stronger than when it’s steeped. It has many uses. Datura must be a gift from Ursus. He was beginning to feel the narcotic effects.

Iza told Ayla to hold open the old magician’s mouth again while she carefully placed the wooden spike at the base of the aching tooth. She gave the peg a sharp blow with a stone held in her hand to loosen it. Creb jumped, but it was not as painful as he thought it would be. Then Iza tied the piece of sinew around the loosened tooth and told Ayla to secure the other end around one of the posts set firmly into the ground that was part of the frame from which the herbs were hanging to dry.

“Now, move his head back until the cord is taut, Ayla,” Iza told the girl. With a quick jerk, Iza yanked on the sinew. “Here it is,” she said, and held up the cord with the heavy molar dangling from it. She sprinkled dried geranium root on the bleeding hole and dipped a small piece of absorbent rabbit skin in an antiseptic solution of balsamgum bark and a few of the dried leaves, and packed his jaw with the damp leather.

“Take your tooth, Mog-ur,” Iza said, putting the decayed molar into the hand of the still-dazed magician. “It’s all over.”

He clenched it in his hand, then let it drop as he lay down. “Must give Ursus,” he fumbled groggily.

The clan watched to see how well Creb recovered after Ayla assisted the medicine woman with her dental surgery. When his mouth healed quickly without any complications, they felt more assured that the girl’s presence didn’t alienate the spirits. It made them more willing to allow her to assist when Iza helped them. As the winter progressed, Ayla learned to treat burns, cuts, bruises, colds, sore throats, stomachaches, earaches, and many of the minor injuries and ailments they fell heir to in the normal course of living.

In time, members of the clan went as easily to Ayla as to Iza for treatment of minor problems. They knew Ayla had been collecting herbs for Iza and saw the medicine woman training her. They knew, too, that Iza was getting old and wasn’t well and Uba was too young. The clan was getting used to the strange girl in their midst and was beginning to accept the idea that a girl born to the Others might someday be the medicine woman of their clan.

It was during the coldest time of the year, after the winter solstice and before the first breakup of spring, that Ovra went into labor.

“It’s too early,” Iza told Ayla. “She should not deliver until spring, and she hasn’t felt movement recently. I’m
afraid the birth will not go well. I think her baby will be stillborn.”

“Ovra wanted this baby so much, Iza. She was so happy when she found out she was pregnant. Can’t you do anything?” Ayla asked.

“We’ll do what we can, but there are some things that are beyond help, Ayla,” the medicine woman replied.

The whole clan was concerned about the early labor of Goov’s mate. The women tried to offer moral support while the men waited anxiously nearby. They had lost several members during the earthquake and looked forward to any increases in their number. New babies meant more mouths for Brun’s hunters and the foraging women to feed, but, in time, the babies would grow and provide for them when they grew old. The continuation and survival of the clan was essential to individual survival. They needed each other and were saddened that Ovra would probably not give birth to a living baby.

Goov was more worried for his mate than for the child, and wished there was something he could do. He didn’t like to see Ovra suffering, especially when the outcome had so little hope of being anything but unhappy. She wanted the baby; she had felt inadequate to be the only woman in the clan without children. Even the medicine woman had given birth, as old as she was. Ovra had been elated when she finally became pregnant, and now Goov wished he could think of some way to ease her loss.

Droog seemed to understand the younger man better than anyone. He’d had occasion to have similar feelings about Goov’s mother, though he was glad she had given birth to Goov, and Droog had to admit he was enjoying his new family, once he had gotten used to them. He even had hopes that Vorn might yet develop an interest in toolmaking, and Ona was sheer delight, especially now that she was weaned and was beginning to imitate grown women in her own little-girl way. Droog had never had a girl around his fire before, and she was so young when he had mated Aga, it felt as though Ona had been born to his hearth.