Allan and the Ice Gods (32 page)

many a time of late whether it would not be well to stumble among the

rough roots of the trees and to fall by chance upon the point of my

spear? And were it not for Foh, should I not have stumbled thus—by

chance—and been found pierced with the spear, for when the spear had

done its work might there not be peace for one who has tried and

failed and knows not which road to take? What better end could there

be for a hunter than to die covered with glory fighting this mighty

beast of the forest which no man of his people has ever yet dared to

do? Would not the tribe make songs about me which they would tell on

winter nights by the fire in the days to come, yes, they and their

children after them for more generations than Urk can remember? And

would not Aaka, the wife of my youth, then learn to think of me

tenderly?”

Thus said Wi to himself and hastened homeward through the twilight.

Indeed, as the way was far and the path difficult, the darkness had

fallen ere ever he came to the cave.

Entering silently from the shadows, he saw Aaka standing by the fire,

and noted that her face was troubled, for she was staring into the

darkness at the mouth of the cave. By the fire also sat Pag polishing

a spear head, and near to him Foh, who was whispering into his ear. At

a distance, by the other fire, Laleela, now recovered from her wound

but still somewhat pale, went about among the cast-out babes, seeing

that their skin rugs were wrapped round them so that they might not

grow cold in the night. With her was Moananga. He whispered into her

ear and she smiled and seemed to answer aimlessly, for her eyes, too,

were fixed upon the darkness at the mouth of the cave.

Wi came forward into the firelight. Aaka saw him and instantly her

face changed, for on it seemed to fall its usual mask of haughtiness.

“You are late, Husband,” she said, “which, as you were alone”—here

she glanced first at Laleela and next at Pag, the two of whom she was

so jealous—“is strange and caused me to fear, who thought that

perhaps you might have met more Red Wanderers.”

“No, Wife,” he answered simply. “I think that we shall see no more

wanderers on this shore. I wounded a doe with my spear which stuck in

its side, and followed it far, but it escaped me, who have no fortune

nowadays, even at the only craft I understand,” he added with a sigh.

“Now I am tired and hungry.”

“Did the deer carry away the spear, Father?” asked Foh.

“Yes, Son,” he replied absently.

“Then how comes it that it is in your hand, Father, for when you sent

me back this morning you had only one spear?”

“It fell from the doe’s side and I found it again amongst the rocks,

Son.”

“Then, if it fell among rocks, why is the shaft covered with mud,

Father?” asked Foh, but Wi made no answer. Only Pag, who had been

watching him with his one bright eye, rose and, taking the spear,

began to clean it, noting as he did so that there was no dry blood

upon its point.

Before she went away to her hut where the fancy had taken her to sleep

again for a while, because she said that the crying of the cast-out

children disturbed her, Aaka brought Wi his food. This she did because

she feared that otherwise Laleela might take her place and serve him

with his meat.

On the following day, Wi stopped at home and did those things that lay

to the hand of the chief. There was much trouble in the tribe. The

time of autumn had come and the weather remained cold and cheerless,

as it had done during that of summer. Food was scanty, and the most of

what could be won by the order of Wi was being saved up against the

coming winter. Even here there was trouble, because many of such fish

as could be caught, being laid out on the banks in the usual way for

curing, went bad owing to the lack of sun to dry them, so that much

labour was wasted. Moreover, those women whose husbands or sons had

been killed in the fight with the Red-Beards, forgetting the perils

from which they and all the tribe had been saved, began to grumble

much, as did those whose men had been wounded and were not recovered

of their hurts. This was their cry:

That Laleela, the fair white Witch-from-the-Sea, she who was the love

of Wi, had brought all these ills upon them, she who had led the Red-Beards to their shores, and that therefore she ought to be killed or

driven away. Yet none of them dared to lift a finger against her,

first because, as they supposed, she was the lover of Wi whom every

one of them feared and honoured; and secondly, because all did not

think as they did. Thus many of the men clung to Laleela, some for the

reason that she was sweet and beautiful, and others because they knew

that she had saved Wi from death, offering up her own life for his.

Also there were women who sided with her. For instance, the mothers of

the cast-out children whom she tended night and day, for although they

had cast them out, the most of those mothers still loved their

children and came to nurture them, in their hearts blessing Wi, who

had saved them from death, and her who tended them in their

helplessness. Moreover, although this was strange, however much she

may have plotted against her and desired her death in the past, and

however much in a fashion she hated her through jealousy, in secret

Laleela’s greatest friend and protector was Aaka.

For, although she would never say so, Aaka knew that, had it not been

for this woman whom she called “Witch-from-the-Sea,” there would have

been no Wi left living. Also she honoured Laleela, knowing, too, that

if she who was so sweet and beautiful chose to stretch out her hand

and to look on him with the eyes of love, she could cause Wi to forget

his oath and to take her to himself, which she did not do. Therefore,

although she spoke rough words of her openly and turned her back upon

her and mocked at Wi about her, still in secret she was Laleela’s

friend.

Further, Laleela had another friend in Moananga who, after Wi, was the

most beloved and honoured of any in the tribe, especially since he had

borne himself so bravely against the Red-Beards. For, from the moment

that Moananga had seen Laleela leap in front of Wi to receive the

arrow in her breast, he had fallen in love with her, although it was

not in front of him that she had leapt.

This folly of his made trouble in his house, because, although his

wife Tana, like Aaka, was jealous natured, if in a gentler fashion,

still he loved Laleela, and what is more, said so openly.

Indeed, he tried to win her, announcing that he was bound by no laws

which Wi had made. But in this matter he failed, for, although Laleela

answered him very sweetly, she would have none of him, about which,

when she came to learn of it, Tana mocked him much. Yet so kindly did

Laleela push him away from her that he remained the dearest and

closest of her friends, mayhap because he knew that it was Wi who

stood between them, Wi his brother, whom he loved more than he did any

woman. Still, he found Tana’s mockery hard to bear, though, the more

she mocked, the closer he clung to Laleela, as did Tana, because she

held that Laleela had taught Moananga a lesson that he needed.

Taking heed of none of these things which meant naught to them, the

common people of the tribe grumbled and moaned in their distress, and

because they could find no other at whose door to lay their troubles,

they bound them on to the back of Laleela, saying that she had brought

them with her out of the sea and that their home was on her shoulders.

For being but simple folk they did not understand that, like the rain

or the snow, evil falls upon the heads of men from heaven above.

On the second morning Wi, who had made all things ready to his hand,

rose while it was still dark, kissed Foh, who lay fast asleep at his

side, and slipped from the cave, taking with him three spears and the

bone-hafted ax of iron that Pag had made and fashioned, the same with

which he had slain Henga. As he went by the flickering light of the

fire, he saw Laleela sleeping among the babes, looking most beautiful

with her long, bright hair lying in masses about her. Sweet was her

face as she lay thus asleep, and yet, as he thought, sad and troubled.

He stood still looking at her, then sighed and went on, thinking that

she had not seen him, for Wi did not know that after he had passed,

Laleela sat up and watched him till he was lost in the shadows.

Outside the cave, tied to a stake beneath a rough shelter of stones,

was his dog, Yow, a fierce, wolf-like beast that loved him only, which

often he took with him when he went a-hunting, for it was trained to

drive game toward him. Loosing Yow, who whimpered with joy at the

smell of him, Wi struck him on the head with his hand, thus telling

the beast that he must be silent. Then he started, pausing a little

while by the hut in which Aaka slept. Indeed, almost he entered it,

but in the end did not because he knew that she would question him

closely, for the night was too far gone for him to come to sleep with

her in the hut as he did sometimes, while it was too early for him to

be stirring in the dark when all were asleep and she would guess that

he planned some adventure and try to wring out of him what it might

be.

Wi thought to himself that if only Aaka was as she had been in past

years, he would not now be starting to fight the aurochs single-handed, and so thinking, for the second time that morning he sighed.

Yet he was not angry with her, for well he knew what had caused this

change. It was the death of her child Fo-a, murdered by the brute man

Henga, that had turned her heart sour and made of her another woman.

For he knew also that secretly she blamed him and laid Fo-a’s death

upon his shoulders, as Pag had always laid it upon her own.

Always Aaka, for a long time before he did so, had desired that he

should challenge Henga, and this not only because she wished that he

should become chief of the tribe. Nay, there was a deeper reason.

Something within her had warned her that, if Henga continued to live,

he would bring calamity upon her and her house. Therefore, knowing

Wi’s strength and skill and being sure in herself that, however mighty

Henga might be Wi could conquer him, again and again she had urged Wi

to give him battle, though she had hidden from him the true reason for

her urging. But he would not do so, not because he had been afraid,

but because he had shrunk from thrusting himself forward and causing

all to talk of him, being a man of very modest mind; also because he

had feared lest Henga should overcome him, being so terrible a giant,

in which case not only would he have been killed, a matter of no great

moment, but Aaka and his children would have been at the mercy of the

tyrant, and unless they had slain themselves must have borne his

vengeance.

Therefore, not until Fo-a had been butchered through Aaka’s own fault

and jealousy of Pag, whom she hated because Wi loved him so much, had

he consented to stir in this business that he might avenge his child’s

blood upon Henga, if so he could. Even then he had not stirred until

she had sent him to take counsel with the Ice-gods and watch for the

omen of the falling stone, for secretly she had climbed to the crest

of the glacier on the day before he went and thrust sundry of the

loose stones to its very lip when she had known that one or other of

them would fall on the following morning when the rays of the risen

sun struck upon the ice. Or if, perchance, none had fallen, then she

would have made some other plan to bring about that which she desired,

for always, be it remembered, she was sure in herself that Wi, whom

she looked upon as greater and stronger than any who lived, as half a

god indeed, would deal out death to Henga if once he could be brought

to face him, and after Fo-a had been murdered, she had had but one aim

in life—to see Henga dead ere he killed Wi and Foh also.

Much of all this Wi knew, and more he guessed, though some things were

hid from him, such as the placing of the stones upon the lip of the

glacier. Oh! all had gone awry between Aaka and himself, and now

Laleela had come clothed in beauty, wisdom, and sweetness to tie the

threads of their lives to a knot that he knew not how to loosen.

Surely he would be better dead, leaving Moananga to become chief after

him. At least, so he held, and if the gods had decreed otherwise, then

let them give him the strength to conquer the bull of bulls.

Thus did he take these matters out of the rackings of his troubled

mind and lay them in the hands of Fate, that Fate might decide them as

it would. If he killed the aurochs or could not find it again, then he

would know it was a sign from the gods who decreed that he must live

on, and if otherwise, then his troubles would be done. So he departed

from the hut thinking that Aaka would never learn how he had stood