The Boy of the Painted Cave (9 page)

With an uneasy feeling Tao followed the tracks of the wandering beasts, hoping he would not find Ram trampled in the dust. He had not gone far when he saw the wolf dog loping toward him through the meadow, his sides heaving, his tongue hanging. He was wet, his gray coat caked with mud. Tao threw his arms around the animal's neck, burying his face in the wet fur. “You are brave, Ram,” he said, “but you are foolish. The mammoths are not rabbits. They are dangerous.”

Ram's eyes were bright and he was panting heavily from his wild run.

“This time I was lucky,” said Tao. “You saved my life. Never again will I let you chase the mountains-that-walk.”

T
ao's cuts and bruises were painful but not serious. Kala gave him plantain leaves and a poultice made of earth apple to put on his wounds. She also gave him a sackful of chestnuts to boost his spirits.

Tao smiled at her. “It has been a long time since I have had one of these.”

Kala shook her old gray head. “If you go on chasing the mammoths, you will not live long enough to eat them.”

Summer came and a bright sun filled the valley with its warm glow. Tao watched the golden eagles soaring on the warm updrafts, their sharp eyes searching for rabbits and marmots. The antelopes now shared the valley with herds of small, shaggy ponies or tarpans not much bigger than a wolf dog.

One afternoon as Tao was coming back from the Slough with Ram, he looked up to see a rainbow of colors rippling across the white cliffs. Splashes of yellow gave way to blues, then purple, as the sun moved in and out of the clouds.

Then, suddenly, he saw a bright flash of white light come from the top of the limestone cliff. For a moment it danced and flickered in the sunshine. Tao shook his head, puzzled, wondering what would make such a strange light. A moment later he saw it again. It sparkled and shone like a star, beckoning him.

He walked across the open field, and each time he saw it he stopped and tried to think where he had seen that light before. When he reached the foot of the cliffs, he stood quietly watching it as it flashed on and off in the sunlight. Then, all at once, it came back to him and he knew what it was. It was the shining stone.

A broad smile crossed his face. He forgot about everything else and started to run. “Come, Ram,” he shouted, pointing to the top of the cliffs. “It is our good friend Graybeard. He is making his magic.”

Halfway up the cliff, Tao stopped at his little cave. There he tied his spear over his shoulder with a leather thong. He picked up the bag of chestnuts and tucked it under his belt. Then he started to climb as Ram followed. They went up a narrow, winding ledge, picking their way over jumbles of loose rock and stones.

Soon the path became steeper. Tao reached out, grasping the stunted pine shrubs that grew from the crevices along the rock wall. He stepped on jutting rocks and his fingers felt for cracks and crannies to pull himself up.

Ram was a good climber, but at some places his paws slipped and scraped on the uneven surface. Once Tao helped him around an overhang, and twice he had to pull him up by the scruff of the neck. Frequently they stopped to rest and, little by little, they made their way up the steep limestone wall.

As they came closer, Tao saw Graybeard's wrinkled face looking down over the edge of the cliff. He wondered how the old man had made such a difficult climb.

Breathing hard, Tao pushed Ram over the top, then pulled himself up the rest of the way. Graybeard reached down with a bony hand and helped the boy to his feet. He was smiling broadly. “You saw the light from far off and you knew it was the shining stone?”

“Yes,” said Tao, glancing into the old man's blue eyes. “Your magic is good. But it is a hard climb even for a boy.”

“That is why I chose this place,” said Graybeard. “But there is an easier way. I will show you later.” He led Tao over to a clump of bushes. There the old man removed a covering of pine branches to reveal a small opening leading underground.

“It is well hidden,” said the old man. “No one will find us here.”

They followed a narrow tunnel down to a cavern where shafts of sunlight filtered through from above. Tao saw the unmarked walls and the high, arched roof. On the floor were sticks of charcoal together with chunks of dried clay. A surge of excitement raced through him and he felt a new wave of joy. To become an image maker was the thing he had always dreamed of. To be taught by the master was more than he had ever hoped for. “My hands and my eyes are ready to begin,” he said.

“Ah, my friend, do not be in such a hurry.” The old man bent over, stifling a cough. Then he continued. “You will be a better pupil after we have eaten.”

Tao forced a smile. Food meant nothing to him now. But he did not wish to press the old man. He took the bag of chestnuts from his belt and handed it to Graybeard. “Kala gave me these,” he said. “I have been saving them for you.”

Graybeard opened the skin sack and peered in. He took out one of the shiny red nuts and held it up in his thin fingers, smiling. “Chestnuts are not plentiful,” he said. “It will be good to taste them again.”

They sat on the floor of the cave and ate part of a roasted antelope leg that Graybeard had brought with him. They roasted the chestnuts and cracked them open between two stones and picked out the sweet meat. Ram gnawed at the leg bone which still had some meat on it, then curled up in a corner and went to sleep.

Bright sunlight came through the opening and reflected off the ash-gray walls of the cavern. Graybeard got to his feet. He lifted his thin arms over his head and stretched. Then he looked down at the boy. “Now it is time to begin,” he said.

He took a slate stone from his deerskin pouch. “When we were together before, I showed you how to rough out your image, how to draw a bison. Now you must try something harder.” He handed Tao the stone.

Tao took it and studied the carved engraving. It was the figure of a reindeer with branching antlers and long, thin legs. He knew it would not be easy. He picked up one of the chalks and stepped to the wall. It was clean and unmarked and he ran the palm of his hand over the surface, feeling the smoothness of it. Then he lifted his other hand and made the first bold strokes, starting with the shoulder and back.

The old man stopped him immediately, shaking his head briskly. “That is wrong. I have told you, always make your first sketch in charcoal. Black is better. And start with an outline of the body and the head.”

Tao groaned inwardly. In his excitement he had already forgotten the first lesson the old man had taught him. He picked up a stick of charcoal and began again.

The old master watched for a while, then reached out and stopped the boy's hand again. “No,” he said sharply. “You draw with short, choppy strokes. Let your hand go free. Let it glide over the wall. There is plenty of room, reach out as far as you can.”

As he followed Graybeard's instructions Tao found he was drawing easier, faster. He smiled with a quick feeling of satisfaction. Just a few words from the master made a big difference.

Graybeard nodded. “You are learning, my friend. It takes time, but you are learning.”

Tao drew the outline of two more reindeer before the old man stopped him again. “Now I will show you something else,” said Graybeard. He took another graven stone from his leather pouch and handed it to Tao. On it was the sketch of a rhino. Then he brushed his long fingers across the wall. “Look, here,” he said. “When you draw the rhino, use this bulge as the high part of the back. The hollow place below it then becomes the dark area where the head meets the shoulder.”

Tao did as he was told, outlining a large rhino. When he had finished, he stepped back, his dark eyes wide with wonder. “Look,” he said, “it begins to live.”

Graybeard picked up the charcoal. “Now, if you wish to show many animals together, you outline the first one, then draw a row of heads and legs, one after another.” Graybeard sketched a bison on the wall, then drew a series of heads and legs close behind it.

Again Tao was surprised. With a few quick strokes the old master had created an entire herd of bison. He could almost see the flashing eyes and hear the pounding hooves. “It is magic,” he said. “Now I will try.”

The old man shook his head. He walked about the little cavern, stretching his arms over his head. “That is enough for now. Tomorrow I must go to the camp of the Lake People. When I return, I will show you how to paint and mix colors. For that we will need some fish oil, some animal fat and blood and some eggs and honey.”

The following morning Graybeard took Tao west, along the top of the cliffs, until they came to a narrow path leading down to the bottom. “It is not so steep,” said the old man, “and much easier to climb.”

They walked across the valley until they came to the river. When they were ready to part, the boy said, “Thank you, Graybeard. I will work hard to make the bison live on the cave wall. Then someday maybe I will be nearly as good as you are.”

The old man smiled, tugging at his beard. “Maybe better,” he said.

“No one can be better. But I will try.”

The old man walked away, coughing heavily. Tao called after him. “You will be back soon?”

“Do not be impatient,” said Graybeard. Tao caught the flicker of a smile. “You have enough to do while I am gone.”

In the days that followed, Tao practiced his drawings. In between he collected materials for the next lesson. He searched along the dry streambeds for saucer-shaped stones that could be used to mix paints. He scooped wet clay out of the brook and wrapped it in fresh green leaves to keep it moist and soft.

Down at the Slough he caught two big fat carp and brought them back to his cave, where he baked them over an open fire and squeezed out the oil. Kala gave him a large seashell, three duck eggs and a jackal skull full of honey. When everything was ready he stored them in the Hidden Cave at the top of the cliff to wait for Graybeard's return.

They still needed some animal fat and blood, and one day, near the edge of the swamp, Ram picked up the scent of a boar. He tracked it into the spruce forest, where he brought it to bay in the middle of a berry thicket. It fought viciously, twisting and lashing out with its tusks. Tao threw his spear with all his strength. The boar squealed and thrashed about, then lay still.

After he skinned the animal, Tao scraped out much of the fat and collected some of the blood in a hollow bone. He cut off the head and the best parts of the meat and tied it together in the skin and brought it back to the Hidden Cave. There he stored the blood and fat away, to be used for the mixing of the paints. The meat and the rest of the animal he brought back to Kala and the clan people.

Soon the odor of roast pig drifted through the little camp as the women speared the legs and ribs on spits and turned them over the open fires. The people were pleased, for it was not often that they were treated to such tasty fare.

Even Volt was more friendly. He gave Tao the tusks from the boar's skull to wear around his neck as an amulet and as a token of his hunting skill.

Tao was happy to please Volt, and even Garth. He wished he could tell Volt about Ram and how the wolf dog could hunt. But he knew the leader would not listen, so he held his tongue. Yet he wished that someday Ram could show his worth in front of the entire clan. Then maybe Volt would know the wolf dog was not an evil spirit.

W
ith Graybeard gone, Tao felt a new sense of emptiness. He spent much of his time drawing mammoths, bison and rhinos in Graybeard's little cavern. Each evening he stood on top of the cliff, scanning the valley, waiting for the old man to return. As the days passed and Graybeard did not show up, the boy became impatient. Why does he not come back? he thought. He has always kept his word. Maybe something is wrong. He considered going to find him, but he knew he could not cross the river or go into the lands of the other people.

Each day the boy waited with growing concern. Then, one morning, down in the Slough, Ram growled and Tao looked up to see Graybeard standing in the middle of the glade as if he had come out of the earth. He had his flint-tipped spear in his hand and he carried the shoulder blade of a horse strapped to his back.

Tao hurried toward him, an expression of joy and relief in his eyes. “I am happy to see you, old shaman. It has been a long time.”

Graybeard nodded. “There are many places I must go, and I do not walk as fast as I used to.” The old man coughed and passed a shaky hand across his brow.

Tao winced as he saw the worn face, the pinched cheekbones. He was worried, but he knew the old man would not want him to show concern. “The cave is ready,” Tao said. “But first you must rest and eat.” He took some dried meat and fish from his leather pouch and they sat with their backs against an old red oak and ate their meal. Tao wondered if Graybeard remembered his promise.

When they were finished, they started across the valley. Graybeard stopped many times, poking around the streambeds and gravel banks with the shaft of his spear, searching. Then he found what he was looking for. He picked up a stick and dug out a handful of bright red earth.

“Here,” he said, as he poured it into an empty leather sack. “This will make good red paint. Now we must find yellows and whites.”

“I have yellow clay,” said Tao. The old man did remember.

“Good. We can dig up some limestone powder near the foot of the cliffs. That will mix well for the lighter colors.”

When they had all the red, white and yellow earth they needed, they went up to the top of the cliff, using the easy path that Graybeard had found. They reached the tunnel to the Hidden Cave and removed the cover of branches to let in the sunlight.