Clan of the Cave Bear (62 page)

The people running to greet the newly arriving clan, when they first saw Brun and Grod appear around a bend in the trail, stopped short at the sight of Ayla. The training of a lifetime could not prevent the shocked stares. Her position in front of the women, as the travel-weary clan filed silently to the open space near the cave, caused a flurry of speculation. Creb had warned her, but Ayla wasn’t prepared for the sensation she caused; nor was she prepared for the throng of people. Over two hundred stunned individuals crowded around to see the strange woman. Ayla had never seen so many people in her life, much less in one place.

They stopped in front of a huge cage of stout poles sunk deep in the ground, lashed firmly together. Inside was another of the massive bears they had seen on their way, this one even bigger. Hand-fed for three years with a superabundance that kept him placid and tame, the gigantic cave bear lolled in lazy indolence within the fenced enclosure, almost too fat to stand up. It had been a labor of devotion and reverence for the small clan to maintain the huge bear for so long, and even the many gifts of food, implements, and furs brought by the visiting clans could not make up for the effort it took. But there wasn’t a single person who didn’t envy the members of the host clan, and every clan eagerly awaited its turn to take on the same task and reap the spiritual benefits and status of the great honor.

The cave bear waddled over to see what was causing the commotion, hoping for more handouts, and Uba crowded in closer to Ayla, as much overwhelmed by the crush of people as by the bear. The leader and the magician of the host clan approached them and made gestures of greeting, quickly followed by an angry question.

“Why have you brought one of the Others to our Clan Gathering, Brun?” the leader of the host clan motioned.

“She is a woman of the Clan, Norg, and a medicine woman of Iza’s line,” Brun returned, more calmly than he felt. A murmur rose from the watching people and a flash of excited hand signals.

“That’s impossible!” the mog-ur gestured. “How can she be a woman of the Clan? She was born to the Others.”

“She is a woman of the Clan,” The Mog-ur repeated, just as adamantly as Brun. He fixed the host clan leader with a baleful glare. “Do you doubt
me
, Norg?”

Norg looked at his mog-ur uncomfortably, but got no satisfaction from the magician’s confused expression.

“Norg, we have traveled far and we are tired,” Brun said. “This is hardly the time to discuss it. Do you deny us the hospitality of your cave?”

It was a tense moment. If Norg refused them, they would have no choice but to return the long distance back to their cave. It would be a grave breach of propriety, but to allow Ayla entrance would be tantamount to accepting her as a woman of the Clan; at least it would give Brun a clear edge. Norg looked again at his mog-ur, then at the powerful one-eyed man who was The Mog-ur, then back at the man who was leader of the clan ranked first of all the clans. If The Mog-ur said so, what could he do?

Norg signaled his mate to show Brun’s clan to the place reserved for them, but he marched in beside Brun and The Mog-ur. As soon as they were settled, he was going to find out how a woman obviously born to the Others had become a woman of the Clan.

The entrance to the cave of the host clan was smaller than the entrance to the cave of Brun’s clan, and the cave itself seemed smaller when they first walked in. But rather than one large room with a small adjunct for ceremonies, this cave was a series of rooms and tunnels that honeycombed their way far into the mountain, most of them unexplored. There was more than enough room to house all the visiting clans, though they might not have the advantage of light from the mouth. Brun’s clan was led to the room second from the front and filled one whole side of it. It was a favorable location befitting their top-ranked status. Though several clans were already settled farther back, the place would have been held for them until the beginning of the actual Bear Festival. Only then, when it was certain
they weren’t coming, would it be given to the next-highest-ranked clan.

The Clan as a whole had no leader, but there was a hierarchy of clans just as there was a hierarchy of members within a clan, and the leader of the highest-ranked clan became, in effect, the leader of the Clan, simply because he was the highest-ranking member. But it was by no means a position of absolute authority. The clans were too autonomous for that. All were led by independent, dictatorial men who were accustomed to being a law unto themselves, meeting only once in seven years. They did not yield easily to greater authority, save tradition and the world of the spirits. The way each clan fit in the hierarchy, and therefore, the one man acknowledged leader of the Clan, was decided at the Clan Gathering.

Many elements contributed to a clan’s status; ceremonies were not the only activity, competitions were of equal if not greater importance. The necessity of cooperation within clans for survival, which imposed the stricture of self-control, found an acceptable outlet in contests with other clans. And it was as necessary for survival in a different way. Controlled competition kept them from each other’s throats. Nearly everything became a competition when the clans met. The men vied in wrestling, sling-hurling, bola-throwing, arm strength with use of a club, running, more complicated running-and-spear-stabbing races, toolmaking, dancing, storytelling, and the combination of both in dramatic hunt reenactments.

Though theirs were not given as much weight as the men’s competitions, the women made their contribution. The great feast was an opportunity to display cooking skills. The gifts brought for the host clan were first arranged in plain view for everyone’s inspection, critically examined, and judged by a consensus of the other women. The handiwork included soft pliable skins, luxuriant furs, watertight baskets, open-weave carrying baskets, mats of subtle texture and design, containers of stiff rawhide or bark, strong cords of sinew or fibrous plants or animal hair, long thongs of even width with no weak spots, wooden bowls finished to a uniform smoothness, serving platters of bone or the thinner sections of logs, cups, bowls and ladles, hoods, hats, foot coverings, hand coverings, and other pouches; even babies were compared. The honors were not awarded as obviously among the women. Theirs was a more subtle game of differences
in expression or gesture or posture that discriminated with finesse, but it was no less honest in perceptively distinguishing mediocre from good work and awarding approbation to that which was truly fine.

The relative position of each clan’s medicine woman and mog-ur was a consideration in determining status. Iza and Creb had both contributed to the first place of Brun’s clan, as did the fact that the clan had been first for several generations before him, only, however, giving Brun a slight edge when he first became leader. As important as all the contributing factors were, it was the leadership capability of the head of the clan that was decisive. And if the competition among the women was subtle, the determination of which leader was most capable was infinitely more so.

Partly, the determination depended on how well the men of each clan performed in the competitions, showing how well a leader trained and motivated them; partly on how hard the women worked and how well they conducted themselves, showing a leader’s firm guiding hand. Part was based on adherence to Clan tradition, but most of a leader’s position, and consequently his clan’s, was based on the strength of his own character. Brun knew he would be pushed to the limit this time; he had already lost ground by bringing Ayla.

Clan Gatherings were also a time to reestablish old acquaintances, see relatives from other clans, and exchange gossip and stories that would enliven many a cold winter evening for the next few years. Young people, unable to find mates within their own clan, vied for each other’s attention, though matings could only take place if the woman was acceptable to the leader of the young man’s clan. It was considered an honor for a young woman to be chosen, especially by a clan of a higher status, although moving away would be traumatic for her and her loved ones left behind. Despite Zoug’s recommendation and the status of Iza’s line, Iza thought it was doubtful that Ayla would find a mate. Having a child might have helped if her son had been normal, but her deformed baby precluded any hope for her.

Ayla’s thoughts were far from finding a mate. She was having enough trouble just getting up courage to face the congregation of curious, suspicious people outside the cave. She and Uba had unpacked and set up the hearth that would be their home for the duration of their visit. Norg’s mate had seen to it that stones for fireplaces and definition
of boundaries were piled conveniently nearby, and skins of water were available for guest clans. Ayla had taken great care to display her gifts for the host clan the way Iza had explained, and the quality of her work had already attracted notice. She washed off the travel grime, changed to a clean wrap, then nursed her son while Uba waited impatiently. The girl was anxious to explore the area near the cave and see all the people, but reluctant to face them alone.

“Hurry, Ayla,” she motioned. “Everyone else is out already. Can’t you feed Durc later? I’d rather sit out in the sun than in this dark old cave, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t want him to start crying right away. You know how loud he cries. People might think I’m not a good mother,” Ayla said. “I don’t want to do anything to make them think any worse of me than they do. Creb told me people would be surprised when they saw me, but I didn’t think they might not let us stay. And I didn’t think they’d stare like that.”

“Well, they let us in, and after Creb and Brun get through talking to them, they’ll know you’re a Clan woman. Come on, Ayla. You can’t stay in the cave forever, you’ve got to face them sooner or later. They’ll get used to you after a while, just like we did. I don’t notice that you look different hardly at all; I really have to think about it.”

“I was there before you were born, Uba. They’ve never seen me before. Oh, all right, I might as well get it over with. Let’s go. Don’t forget to bring something for the cave bear to eat.”

Ayla got up, leaned Durc against her shoulder, and patted his back as they started out. They made a gesture of respect to Norg’s mate as they passed her hearth. The woman returned a greeting gesture and quickly turned back to her task, suddenly conscious that she had been staring. Ayla took a deep breath as she neared the entrance and held her head up a little higher. She was determined to ignore the curiosity about her; she was a woman of the Clan and she belonged here as much as anyone.

Her determination was tested to the fullest when she walked into the bright sunlight. Every person of every clan had found some reason to stay near the cave to wait for the strange Clan woman to come out. Many of them tried not to be obvious about it, but many more forgot, or ignored, common courtesy and stared in open-mouthed wonder. Ayla could feel her face flush. She changed Durc’s position
as an excuse to look at him rather than the multitude of faces turned in her direction.

It was fortunate she was looking at her son. Her action focused attention on Durc who had been overlooked at the first shock of her appearance. Expressions and gestures, some not so discreet, made it clear what they thought of her son. He would not have had to look like one of their babies; if he resembled her, they could have accepted him better. Regardless of what Brun and The Mog-ur said, Ayla was one of the Others; her baby could have fit into the same mold. But Durc had enough Clan characteristics to make his modifications seem to be distortions. He was a grossly deformed baby that should not have been allowed to live. Not only did Ayla’s worth drop, Brun lost more ground, too.

Ayla turned her back on the suspicious stares and gaping mouths, and she and Uba went to look at the cave bear in his cage. When he saw them approach, the huge bruin lumbered over, sat up, and reached through the bars of the cage for the expected treat. They both backed off at the sight of the monstrous paw with its thick, rather stubby claws, more adapted to digging the roots and tubers that made up a large part of his normal diet than to hauling his huge bulk up trees. Unlike brown bears, only the cubs of cave bears were agile and small enough to climb. Ayla and Uba put their apples on the ground just beyond the stout poles that had once been reasonably mature trees.

The creature, raised like a well-loved child and never allowed the least bit of hunger, was entirely tame and comfortable around people. The intelligent animal had learned that certain actions invariably brought additional choice tidbits. He sat up and begged. Ayla would have smiled at his clownish antics if she had not remembered to control it in time.

“Now I know why clans say their cave bears talk,” Ayla motioned to Uba. “He’s asking for more; do you have another apple?”

Uba gave her one of the small, hard, round fruits, and this time Ayla went to the cage and gave it to him. He put it in his mouth, then moved closer to the bars and rubbed his huge, shaggy head against a projection on one of the tree trunks.

“I think you want to be scratched, you old honey-lover,” Ayla gestured. She had been warned never to motion bear
or cave bear or Ursus in his presence. If he was called by his real names, he would remember who he was and know he was not just a member of the clan who raised him. It would make him a wild bear again, void the Bear Ceremony, and ruin the whole reason for the festival. She scratched behind his ear.

“You like that, don’t you, winter sleeper,” Ayla motioned and reached to scratch behind the other ear he had turned in her direction. “You could scratch your own ears if you wanted to—you’re just lazy; or do you want attention? You big furry baby.”

Ayla rubbed and scratched the huge head, but when Durc reached for a handful of shaggy hair, she backed away. She had petted and scratched the small wounded animals she had brought to their own cave enough to sense that this was just a bigger, tamer variety of the same thing. Protected by the heavy cage, she quickly lost her fear of the bear, but her baby was another matter. When Durc reached his tiny hands for a fistful of hair, the huge mouth and long claws suddenly looked dangerous.