Clan of the Cave Bear (77 page)

But Broud would be leader soon, and he was the one who should take her. It would be best if that decision came from Broud himself, and as long as Mog-ur lived, there was no need to rush it. Brun decided to leave the problem for the son of his mate. He seems to have overcome his violent
emotions toward her, Brun thought. He never bothers her anymore. Perhaps he’s ready, perhaps he’s finally ready. But a seed of doubt still remained.

The summer drew to its polychrome close and the clan settled down to the slower pace of the cold season. Uba’s pregnancy progressed normally until well beyond her second trimester. Then the stirrings of life stopped. She tried to ignore the growing ache in her back and the discomforting cramps, but when she began spotting blood, she hurried to Ayla.

“How long has it been since you felt movement, Uba?” Ayla asked, concern etched on her face.

“Not for many days, Ayla. What am I going to do? Vorn was so happy with me when life started so soon after we mated. I don’t want to lose my baby. What could have gone wrong? It’s so close. Spring will be here soon.”

“I don’t know, Uba. Do you remember falling? Did you strain to lift something heavy?”

“I don’t think so, Ayla.”

“Go back to your hearth, Uba, and go to bed. I’ll boil some black birchbark and bring the tea to you. I wish it were fall—I’d get that rattlesnake root Iza got for me. But the snow is too deep to go very far now. I’ll try to think of something. You think about it, too, Uba. You know almost everything Iza knew.”

“I have been thinking, Ayla, but I can’t remember anything that will start a baby kicking again once it’s stopped.”

Ayla couldn’t answer. In her heart she knew as well as Uba that it was hopeless, and shared the young woman’s anguish.

For the next several days, Uba lay in bed hoping against hope that something would help, and knowing there was nothing she could hope for. The pain in her back became almost unbearable, and the only medicines that stopped it were those that put her to sleep, a drugged unrestful sleep. But the cramps would not grow into contractions, labor would not start.

Ovra almost lived at Vorn’s hearth, offering her empathetic support. She had been through the same ordeal herself so many times that she, more than anyone, could understand Uba’s pain and sorrow. Goov’s mate had never been able to bring a baby to full term and had become even more quiet and withdrawn as the years passed and she remained childless. Ayla was glad Goov was gentle with her.
Many men would have turned her out, or taken a second woman. But Goov felt a deep attachment for his mate. He would not add to her grief by taking in another woman to have children for him. Ayla had begun to give Ovra the secret medicine Iza told her about that prevented her totem from being defeated. It was too hard on the woman to continue having pregnancies that produced no babies for her. Ayla didn’t tell her what the medicine was for, but after a time, when Ovra stopped conceiving, she guessed. It was better that way.

On a cold, dismal morning in late winter, Ayla examined Iza’s daughter and made a decision.

“Uba,” she called softly. The young woman opened eyes ringed with dark circles that made them seem even more deep-set below her brow ridges. “It’s time for the ergot. We’ve got to get the contractions started. There’s nothing that can save your baby, Uba. If it doesn’t come out, you’ll die, too. You’re young, you can have another baby,” Ayla motioned.

Uba looked at Ayla, then Ovra, then back to Ayla again.

“All right,” she nodded. “You’re right, there’s no hope. My baby is dead.”

Uba’s labor was difficult. It was hard to get the contractions started and it made Ayla reluctant to give her anything too strong for pain for fear they would stop. Though the other women of the clan stopped by for short visits to offer their encouragement and support, none wanted to stay for long. They all knew her pain and effort would be in vain. Only Ovra stayed to help Ayla.

When the stillborn was delivered, Ayla quickly wrapped it with the placental tissue in the leather birthing blanket.

“It was a boy,” she told Uba.

“Can I see it?” the exhausted young woman asked.

“I think it’s best that you don’t, Uba. It will only make you feel worse. You rest, I’ll dispose of it for you. You’re too weak to get up.”

Ayla told Brun that Uba was too weak, she would dispose of the baby, but she refrained from mentioning anything else. It wasn’t a son that Uba had delivered, it was two sons that had never separated properly. Only Ovra had seen the pitiful, sickening thing barely recognizable as human with too many arms and legs and grotesque features on a head too large. Ovra had to fight to keep from regurgitating the contents of her stomach, and Ayla swallowed hard herself.

This was not Durc’s modification of Clan characteristics with hers, this was a deformity. Ayla was glad the grossly malformed thing had not survived long enough for Uba to have had to deliver it live. She knew Ovra would never tell anyone. It was best to let the clan believe Uba had given birth to a normal stillborn son, for Uba’s sake.

Ayla put on her outdoor clothes and plowed through deep snow until she was far from the cave. She opened the wrappings and left them exposed. It’s better to make sure all evidence is destroyed, Ayla thought. Even as she turned to go back, she caught a slinking movement out of the corner of her eye. The smell of blood had already brought the means.

28

“Would you like to sleep with Uba tonight, Durc?” Ayla asked.

“No!” the boy shook his head emphatically. “Durc sleep with Mama.”

“That’s all right, Ayla. I didn’t think he would. He’s been with me all day, anyway,” Uba said. “Where did he get that name he calls you, Ayla?”

“It’s just a name he uses for me,” Ayla answered, turning her head aside. The Clan stricture against unnecessary words or sounds has been so firmly ingrained in Ayla from the time she first arrived, she felt guilty about the word game she played with her son. Uba didn’t press, though she knew there was something Ayla was withholding.

“Sometimes when I go out with Durc alone, we make sounds together,” Ayla admitted. “He just picked those sounds for me. He can make a lot of sounds.”

“You can make sounds, too. Mother said you used to make all kinds of sounds and words when you were little, especially before you learned to talk,” she gestured. “I still remember when I was a baby, I used to love that sound you made when you rocked me.”

“I guess I did when I was little, I don’t really remember too well,” Ayla motioned. “Durc and I just have a game we play.”

“I don’t think there’s anything so wrong with that,” Uba said. “It’s not like he can’t talk. I wish these roots weren’t so rotten,” Uba added, throwing a large one away. “It’s not going to be much of a feast tomorrow with only dried meat and fish and half-rotten vegetables. If Brun would only wait a little longer, there would at least be some greens and shoots.”

“It’s not just Brun,” Ayla said. “Creb says the best time is the first full moon after the beginning of spring.”

“How does he know the beginning of spring, I wonder?” Uba remarked. “One rainy day looks like another to me.”

“I think it has something to do with watching the sun set. He’s been watching it go down for days. Even when it rains, you can often see where the sun goes to sleep, and there’ve been enough clear nights to see the moon. Creb knows.”

“I wish Creb wasn’t going to make Goov the mog-ur, too,” Uba said.

“So do I,” Ayla motioned. “He sits around too much doing nothing these days as it is. What will he do with himself when he doesn’t even have ceremonies to perform? I knew it had to happen sometime, but this is one feast I’m not going to enjoy.”

“It will seem strange. I’m used to Brun as the leader and Creb as Mog-ur, but Vorn says it’s time for the younger men to lead. He says Broud has waited long enough.”

“I suppose he’s right,” Ayla motioned. “Vorn has always admired Broud.”

“He’s good to me, Ayla. He didn’t even get angry when I lost the baby. He just said he would ask Mog-ur for a charm to make his totem strong again so it could start another one. He must like you, too, Ayla. He even told me to ask you to let Durc sleep with us. I think he knows how much I like having him around,” Uba confided. “Even Broud hasn’t been so bad to you lately.”

“No, he hasn’t bothered me much,” Ayla motioned. She didn’t know how to explain the fear she felt every time he looked at her. She could even feel the hair rising on the back of her neck if he stared at her when she wasn’t looking.

Creb stayed late with Goov in the place of the spirits that evening. Ayla fixed a light meal for Durc and herself and put something aside for Creb to eat when he returned, though she doubted if he’d bother to eat it. She had awakened that morning with a feeling of anxiety that grew worse as the day wore on. The cave seemed to close in on her and her mouth felt dry as dust. She only managed to choke down a few bites, then suddenly jumped up and ran to the mouth of the cave and stared out at the leaden sky and the heavy, soaking rain making small craters in the saturated mud. Durc crawled into her bed and was already asleep when she returned to the hearth. As soon as he felt her crawl in beside him, he snuggled closer and made a half-conscious gesture that ended with the word, “Mama.”

Ayla wrapped her arm around him, feeling his beating heart as she held him, but sleep was long in coming for her. She lay awake looking at the shadowed contours of the rough rock wall in the dim light of the dying fire. She was awake when Creb finally returned, but she lay still, listening to him shuffling around, and finally drifted off to sleep after he had crawled into his bed.

She woke up screaming!

“Ayla! Ayla!” Creb called, shaking her to bring her fully awake. “What’s wrong, child?” he motioned, his eye full of concern.

“Oh, Creb,” she sobbed, and threw her arms around his neck. “I had that dream. I haven’t had that dream for years.” Creb put his arm around her and felt her trembling.

“What’s wrong with Mama?” Durc motioned, sitting up wide-eyed with fear. He had never heard his mother scream before. Ayla put her arm around him.

“What dream, Ayla? The one about the cave lion?” Creb asked.

“No, the other one, the one I can never exactly remember.” She started shaking again. “Creb, why should I have that dream now? I thought I was all over having bad dreams.”

Creb put his arm around her to comfort her again. Ayla hugged him back. They both suddenly realized how long it had been, and held each other with Durc between them.

“Oh, Creb, I can’t tell you how often I’ve wanted to hug you. I thought you didn’t want me; I was afraid you’d push me away like you did when I was an insolent little girl.
There’s something else I’ve wanted to tell you. I love you, Creb.”

“Ayla, I had to make myself push you away even then; but I had to do something, or Brun would have. I never could be angry with you, I loved you too much. I still love you too much. I thought you were upset because you lost your milk and it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Creb. It was mine. I never blamed you.”

“I blamed myself. I should have realized a baby has to keep nursing or the milk will stop, but you seemed to want to be alone with your grief.”

“How could you know? None of the men know much about babies. They like to hold them and play with them when they’re full and happy, but let them start fussing and all the men are quick to give them back to their mothers. Besides, it didn’t hurt him. He’s just starting his weaning year, and he’s big and healthy even though he’s been weaned for a long time.”

“But it hurt you, Ayla.”

“Mama, you hurt?” Durc interrupted, still worried about her scream.

“No, Durc, Mama’s not hurt, not anymore.”

“Where did he learn to call you that word, Ayla?”

She flushed slightly. “Durc and I play a game of making sounds sometimes. He just decided to call me by that one.”

Creb nodded. “He calls all the women mother; I guess he needed to find something to call you. It probably means mother to him.”

“It does to me, too.”

“You made a lot of sounds and words when you first came. I think your people must talk with sounds.”

“My people are Clan people. I am a woman of the Clan.”

“No, Ayla,” Creb gestured slowly. “You are not Clan, you are a woman of the Others.”

“That’s what Iza told me the night she died. She said I wasn’t Clan; she said I was a woman of the Others.”

Creb looked surprised. “I didn’t think she knew. Iza was a wise woman, Ayla. I only found out that night you followed us into the cave.”

“I didn’t mean to go into that cave, Creb. I don’t even know how I got there. I don’t know what hurt you so
much, but I thought you stopped loving me because I went into that cave.”

“No, Ayla, I didn’t stop loving you, I loved you too much.”

“Durc hungry,” the child interrupted. He was still disturbed by his mother’s scream, and the intense conversation between her and Creb bothered him.

“You’re hungry? I’ll see if I can find something for you.”

Creb watched her as she got up and went to the fireplace. I wonder why she was brought to live with us, Creb thought. She was born to the Others, and the Cave Lion has always protected her; why would he bring her here? Why not back to them? And why would he let himself be defeated, let her have a baby, then allow her to lose her milk? Everyone thinks it’s because he’s unlucky, but look at him. He’s healthy, he’s happy, everyone loves him. Maybe Dorv was right, maybe the spirit of every man’s totem mixed with her Cave Lion. She was right about that, he’s not deformed, he’s a mixture. He can even make sounds like she can. He’s part Ayla and part Clan.