For the Good of the Clan (3 page)

“We have something to do. I need you to bring each hunter’s spears to me. Bring all his spears, each in turn. Bring only one man’s spears at a time.”

“Yes, Master.” He paused. “Uh, may I ask why?”

“I need to give them all the
denath e`ulah.”

“Oh.” He looked confused, as I expected. “I didn’t know that had to be done more than once.”

“Yes, well, sometimes bad magic can accumulate in the weapon.” I showed him a charm I had made earlier. “This will preserve and restore the spears’ magic.” He stood, gave me a short bow and started off on his errand. He returned in a few minutes with an armload of spears.

“These are Mordan’s.” He set the pile down carefully and then took a seat. I considered whether I wanted him to watch me or not. I decided I had to attend to his education, despite my desire for secrecy.

“I do not need to remind you that what we do must be guarded from the others?”

“Of course, Master. I know that.”

“Then watch and keep silent.” I took the amulet and the first spear. I made several motions along its length, always proceeding from butt to point, as I had been shown in my youth. At the same time, I examined the point carefully.

The day wore on and my arms became tired. The shoulder that was broken years ago was very stiff, all the lifting and motion caused it to become sore. I turned the work over to Donathan, only taking each spear in turn and checking its point. Finally, we were done, all except one man’s spears.

Donathan spoke. “I will ask Chief Balog for his spears now.”

“No. I will ask him myself.”

I walked slowly through the village. The comforting odors of cooking and smoke, of bodies sweating, the odors of home wrapped about me. The shouts and cries of the young at play or work, the women chattering among themselves, the hunters lolling about—all this was my world and my people. Their spirits were my charge, their health and welfare my responsibility. The chief may administer the law and make decisions, but only I can intercede with the spirit world. The weight of this duty can become very heavy with the years.

Balog was in his hut, but his middle son offered to get him. I waited for perhaps half a part of the day. I thought I heard gasping and moaning coming from the hut. Well, Balog was a man who never wasted his leisure time. Finally he stepped through the doorway, sweeping aside the skin with one hand and adjusting himself inside his trousers with the other.

“Ah, Ledeth, what’s this I hear about you doing the
denath e`ulah
again? I thought you only had to do that with new weapons?”

I shrugged noncommittally. It was an answer that had served me well many times. “You’d better let me have your spears, Balog. One can never be too careful in matters of the spirit world.”

“I agree, absolutely.” Balog ducked back into his hut and emerged in a few minutes with an armful of weapons. He nodded as he handed the bundle over. “In matters of the spirit world I would never think to question you, Ledeth. You have kept the clan well. I ask the gods to give Donathan your wisdom.” He leaned closer and whispered. “How is the boy progressing, can you say?”

“He is coming along just fine. He has great subtlety and insight. His memory is prodigious. He can already sing the lives of the clan back to the beginning of time. Don’t worry about Donathan. The clan will be in good hands.” I paused, trying to decide if I should broach a delicate subject. Balog seemed to understand my reluctance and motioned to a log. He took a seat as well.

“You want to ask about the possibilities of the next chief, I know.” He smiled warmly, but his eyes spoke of other feelings, they smoldered with a dark fire. “I am not that old. Not nearly as old as you. And I can hunt with the best of the young men, throw a spear as far as any. It is not time.” He said this last with a note of finality.

I nodded. “Who can say what evil might befall even the strongest man? We should be prepared for any eventuality. After all, Ulat was strong and quick, yet look what happened to him.”

Balog snorted. “Well, that’s true. It was his evil fate to encounter that boar, alone and burdened. But then, he always liked to hunt alone. That’s what happens when you don’t hunt in a group. I warned him many times.” His voice was bitter, almost angry. I wondered at that.

“Well, yes, man was not meant to be alone in the world. But still, it wouldn’t hurt for you to give the matter some thought. Perhaps let some of the younger members of the council make some decisions. Small ones, to give them practice. It is a strong man who shares. ‘The weak are greedy.’” I quoted the old saying.

“The bull elk does not share his cows.” Balog knew old sayings too.

“But the wolf pack is stronger than the mountain lion.” I could trade old sayings with him all day, if need be, but he shrugged and gave up.

“I will think about what you say, Ledeth. You are always wise. ‘It is only the young who think their elders stupid. The old are heavy with wisdom.’”

I let him have the last word and rose with the bundle of spears.

Once back in my hut I set the bundle down and started to examine them, one by one. Each obsidian blade glinted dark and sharp. Balog was a fine knapper; his blades were always symmetrical with sharp edges from point to base. Thus the one I found that was not so drew my eye. I reached into my amulet bag where I had concealed the obsidian chip for safety. I knew what I would see. It matched. It was Balog’s spear that had taken Ulat into the darkness. I set the spear and chip aside and reached for a skin of wine, drinking deeply. Balog! I was not surprised, but deeply saddened.

After the evening meal I made my way heavily to Balog’s again, bearing his spears. He sat in front, hearing the report of the hunters. One of them gave me his seat when I approached. I said nothing until they finished and Balog had waved them away.

I handed over his spears, save one.

“This one has a chip in the point.” I kept my voice neutral.

Balog took the spear and examined the point closely. “Yes, it does. I will have to remake it. I hate a blade that is not shaped evenly. It does not look right.” He set the spear down.

“I have to tell you, my chief. Bad news.” Balog said nothing and his face did not change.

“It must have been the spirit of a boar that killed Ulat.”

Balog permitted himself a slight tremor.

“We must hunt the boar that lives on the far side of the brook and take it. I need its bones and teeth to make amulets for all. I am sorry.”

“There is no need to be sorry, Ledeth. What must be done, shall be done. The evil spirit of the boar must be driven away.”

I stood.

“That is the only way to cleanse the clan of this curse.” I turned, stopped, then turned back. “Oh, I found this, by the way.” I tossed the chip from Balog’s spear on the ground in front of him. He picked it up. His careful eye could see where it was from.

“Hmmm.” He said nothing else.

“Strange that it should be wedged into the back bone of Ulat.” I walked into the darkness.

The next day Balog gathered three of the strongest men, young men of great skill, but little experience. I walked down to the group. Balog called out as I approached.

“We are going to hunt the boar. Can you give us a charm to protect us?”

I shook my head. “I have only three bits of boar tusk, Balog. One of you will have to be without an amulet.”

“It will be me, then, for I am the most experienced. Protect these young men. They are the future of the clan.” As I turned to go I motioned to him to follow me.

“You have picked rather inexperienced men for this venture. Are you sure you don’t want some of the older men? Fogath has taken a boar before. He was with the group in the time of falling leaves, when the cold was hard, five seasons back. He could be of great help.”

Balog shook his head no. “You yourself said I should give the younger men some experience, give them the chance for leadership. This will be a good test for them.”

“Whatever you say, my chief.”

We reached my hut. I went in and prepared three amulets, chanting the proper spells and placing a bit of boar tusk into each small leather sack. Then the two of us returned to the waiting hunters. I muttered a spell of protection as I placed the thong of each amulet around the young men’s necks.

“Go with the gods, hunters of the clan. May the spirits watch over you and keep you safe. Return to us with the corpse of the boar, that I may drive the evil spirit from our land.” They turned and in a moment disappeared into the mists that rose from the shallow bed of the river.

Donathan and I were busy all that day making charms and amulets for the newest arrivals—there had been four births in the past six weeks and somehow we had fallen a bit behind in this duty. The mothers were chafing for our intercession and could be put off no longer. I watched Donathan. His actions were correct in form, but when he was finished I took him inside the hut to speak.

“My boy,” I offered him a cup of wine and sat heavily. “It’s not enough that you
do
the magic. You must convey to the recipient the gravity of it.” I could see no look of understanding in his eyes. I tried again.

“It’s not enough that you assemble the proper herbs and stones, bones and shells. It’s not enough that you say the right words at the right time. You are going through the motions, without, without…” I was trying to find the word I wanted, “…without the right
importance
. You are the medicine man; you are interceding in the spirit world. You have to make your words and actions sound as though they are what they are—not just words and gestures, not just bits of magical
things
. The people want to leave with the feeling that something deeply mystical has happened, that their fate has been changed.” I looked at him. “Do you follow what I’m saying here?”

He nodded, albeit reluctantly. “You mean it is not enough to just do things the right way? Why not? I mean, if these are the words and the items that work, will they not work, no matter how I sound, no matter if the recipient believes so strongly?”

I pulled my stool closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “My boy, my boy. Do you not yet understand what we do here?” I leaned forward and whispered. “We are offering
faith,
son, faith that man can have some control over his future, his destiny. It is faith that causes the clan to obey the chief; it is faith that lets each one go on, no matter how hard their labor, how desperate their circumstance. Faith that tomorrow will be better than today. That there are good things to come. Without faith, we might as well be animals, grazing in the meadow, unaware of the hunter in the brush.”

I saw the light of understanding then in his eyes. “So, it’s not so much
what
we do as
how
we do it.”

“Exactly. The strength of man and woman is the strength of the clan. It is only as a group we can survive. Alone in the world we would each of us be overcome by myriad dangers and disasters. It is not the survival of the individual that makes us strong. It is the survival of the clan.” He nodded quietly. We both drank deeply.

“And what, my Master, of the chip of stone from the blade of the spear? Did you determine from whom it came?”

“Yes.”

He looked expectantly at me.

“I believe the one who did this will do what is best. Best for the clan and best for his own spirit.” After that I said no more.

The sun god was painting wildly in the evening sky—purples and golds breaking through deep crimson clouds, shafts of bright yellow skipping over the tops of the firs and bathing the white shafts of the birches with bright gilt, when the hunting party returned.

The men bore their burden with difficulty. They lay Balog down gently near my doorway and sank to their knees with fatigue. One look was enough to tell me all I needed to know. Balog’s belly was ripped from chest to flank; his viscera could be seen through the tear in his flesh. It was a horrible wound, black with pooled blood. But his face was strangely peaceful, as though welcoming the long dark journey.

They told their tale piecemeal, first one, then another. They had come to the lair of the boar. Balog had directed them to flush the creature from behind. None of them had dared to object to his plan, although they had all privately thought him reckless to face the monster himself. When the boar charged from the thicket, they said, Balog threw two spears, so quickly the eye could not follow. They both struck, but still the great animal charged. Balog had already drawn his long knife. Leaping to one side he met the animal’s charge with a thrust to its throat.

They fell together, great spurts of hot blood covering them both. It was not until they arrived to pull the huge creature off that they realized Balog had received a mortal slash from the huge tusks.

“And did he speak, before he died?” I asked.

“Yes, Father. Only these words: ‘For the good of the clan.’”

I smiled grimly. “Organize a party to fetch the corpse of the boar, quickly, before the carrion eaters have their fill. And don’t forget to remove the scent glands, the meat will become tainted. I hate the taste of boar that hasn’t had the scent glands removed.” Their pale faces looked up at me.

“Do you want Balog’s sacrifice to go to waste? Go! Donathan and I will prepare our great chief for his passage. We will have a tremendous feast, to send him to the fires of the ancestors.” They nodded tiredly and walked off.

I threw a reed mat over the corpse.

“Balog, your desires got the best of your judgment, but in the end you did the right thing.”

As I turned into the doorway to assemble the things I needed I heard myself murmur: “For the good of the clan.”

End