CRO-MAGNON (29 page)

But in spite of the clan’s failure to develop survival techniques that were commonplace in her own tribe, she was impressed by the ease with which they learned, once shown a new skill. Gar and Jym seemed somewhat quicker than the others, but she could see they all had flexible minds—perhaps more so than her own people. Again, she blamed their small numbers, isolation, and localized language for their failure to develop new methods. If only there were some way, she thought, to combine the clan’s intuitive grasp of life with her own tribe’s facility for planning, what great advances might both peoples achieve?

Wim’s voice brought her back to the present. “Em come.” The crone pointed. “Want advice about Nim.”

Leya looked up and saw the careworn woman approaching, Nim trailing her
mator
and looking glum.

“
Have Nim’s teeth been bothering her again?”

“
No,” Wim said. “Caw.”

A quarter moon ago while checking Bor’s poultice, Leya had complained to the leader about Caw bothering her sexually now that she was entering the final phase of her pregnancy. To her relief, Bor had told Caw to leave her alone until she had birthed and recovered. The obstreperous hunter had sputtered, but had not bothered her since. Now she remembered that lately he had been taking bold looks at Nim. She hoped her respite from Caw’s sexual appetite was not causing trouble for the young girl.

Em wasted no time on small talk. “Caw tell Nim he want her for mate.”

“
But she’s only two hands old,” Leya said. “Surely—”

“
Custom be to wait till girl bleed,” Em said as Nim came up. “But when not enough women, anything go.”

“
Can’t you appeal to Bor? I—”

“
I try. No good.” Em’s look turned sour. “Think he not want trouble with Caw. No secret he start go lame.”

“
How about Ull? After all, he’s your mate.”

“
Ull lose spirit when rhino gore. Not stand up to Caw.” Em paused, as if gathering her thoughts.

Leya waited a few seconds. “What else, Em?”

“
You know men not include women in clan matters,” Em said. “But Kam think Caw maneuver”—she used the clan word for
stalk
—“take Bor place.”

“
He’s not in line, is he?”

“
Ull crippled. Odd slow. Gar young.”

“
That leaves Puk as the next oldest.” Leya was now versed in the clan’s customs. “He should become leader.”

“
I not think so,” Em said. “Kam not think so.”

“
Puk be new leader,” Wim said, bristling at the apparent slight to her oldest son.

“
Caw raise three votes,” Em said. “Him, Ull, Odd.”

“
That would make three against three,” Leya said.

“
Old leader get no vote for new,” Wim said, a custom that Leya had not been aware of.

“
Think Bor no dare tell Caw not take Nim,” Em said. She gestured at Leya. “And now you ready birth half-breed. Not good
tot
for leader. Think Caw throw away you.”

Leya considered the new information. “You know, it might not be a bad thing for Nim to mate with the future leader. Look at Kam—”

Em’s arm slipped around her daughter, and she caressed the girl’s golden tresses. “I see how Caw treat you. Like hammerstone or piece of fur.”

“
That is all I was to him.” The word her
mator
had used sprang to mind—chattl. “A possession, to use for pleasure.”

“
Wim and me think Caw do more. Think use you show he get what want.”

Wim nodded. “Every time Leya do something good, Caw angry.” She signed: “Want you under hand. Want put Leya down.”

Em nodded. “That why he go after Fel.”

Leya shafted her buttocks again and slipped her arm around the wolf pup, which reared to nuzzle her throat.

“
That’s probably right.”

She remembered how many times Caw had kicked at Fel or thrown a rock at him. She had thought it was because he resented her affection for the wolf, but now realized it was more devious than that. She glanced at the two women. Clearly, these supposedly primitive people were more astute about relationships than she was. She wondered what other things they were better at.

“
Caw be like aurochs.” Em’s blue eyes flashed. “EM not want for Nim.”

Wim had gone silent. Leya glanced at the old woman and saw that her lined face looked pensive. She felt a surge of unease.

“
What, Wim?”

“
If Caw not want you because of mixed kid, and if he be leader . . .”

Despite the warmth of her fur cloak, Leya shivered. Something made her glance around for Gar. He was hunkered by the fire, watching the three women, his ugly but kind face impassive. Leya glanced down at her swollen belly, sensed Fel stir against her hip, and reached down to stroke the half-grown wolf’s ruff.

They were her family now. No one would harm them unless they first killed her.

#

Nim’s predicament came to a head after the men returned, tired and filthy, from their next hunting trip to find a satisfying meal waiting. Leya had convinced the clan to expand their diet, and in addition to grilled deer meat and boiled cattail flowers garnished with mustard leaf, the repast included fried acorn mush flavored with garlic, plus a stew of shredded hare meat, onion bulbs, and carrot roots. Previously they had drunk water scooped from the stream. Now they savored bark cups of pine-needle tea tarted with rose hips and sweetened with honey. Dessert, previously unknown, consisted of frozen brambleberries on sticks.

As soon as the meal was finished, Caw strode to where Leya and Fel sat with Wim, Em, and Nim. Fel was fully self-sufficient now and did not share in the clan’s food, but he always returned to camp in time to sit with Leya during the meal.

She intuited that Caw would demand sex, in contravention of Bor’s order. She cast around for a way to demur without, as Gar had cautioned, invoking the man’s habitual anger. But instead, Caw gestured at Nim and then pointed to his sleeping-skin in the single-men’s quarters. The young girl, still sucking on her berry-stick, froze in place, shock glazing her blue eyes.

Em jumped up and called to Ull by the fire. “Nim only half-score seasons!”

Ull’s single eye stared back from his scarred face. He shifted his crippled leg and shrugged.

“
Must start sometime. Caw be good mate.”

When the frightened Nim did not move, Caw grabbed her arm and lifted her cloak, exposing acorn-sized breasts with pointed nipples. The young girl, berry-stick still clutched in one hand, went rigid.

A low growl sounded and Fel stood, yellowish ruff bristling. Caw’s head snapped around. His thick lips skinned back, accentuating the gap in his front teeth. Despite the grimace, Leya thought he looked secretly pleased. Letting Nim go, he started toward the young wolf, which stood stiff-legged, his already sizable canines bared.

Out of the corner of her eye Leya saw Gar stand and start toward the group. Beyond, others were also rising. Glancing at Wim, Leya saw that the old woman’s already fair face had turned almost white. Among people strong enough to kill each other with a single blow, she knew, a brawl was a thing to be feared.

Without taking his eyes from the young wolf, Caw reached out a hand. Odd, who was closest, slapped a short spear into it. When Caw crouched and jabbed the stone-tipped weapon underhand at Fel, Leya grabbed his arm. Caw swatted her as he would a mosquito, and she felt herself flying through the air. Landing with a bone-jarring thud, she rolled to avoid mashing her unborn.

Fel dodged Caw’s spear and snarled, standing his ground. Caw set his feet for a two-handed killing thrust, but Gar reached him and grabbed the shaft.

“
Caw hold!” Despite Caw’s effort to hold steady, Gar forced the weapon down.

Leya saw Puk step next to his
brator.
Behind came Bor, then the half-crippled Ull.

Caw tried to yank the weapon free, but Gar set his shoulders, wrenched it away with a great jerk, and tossed it behind him.

Bor reached the group.
“Huh!”

Six men now stood facing one another—on one side Caw, Odd, and Ull; on the other, Bor, Gar, and Puk. In the background, Kam, Em, Jym, and the younger members of the clan stood frozen, their heavy faces stiff with shock.

Leya wondered if Bor knew the reason for the standoff. Apparently, he did.

“
Nim not ready mate,” he said. Leya noticed he did not say anything about Caw knocking down a woman-with-
tot
.

No one moved. The silence stretched.

Bor tossed his head, his grizzled hair flying, eyes narrowed.

“
Huh!”

After a pause, the groups dispersed. But more slowly, Leya noticed, than the time before.

Leya stood, nursing a split lip. This was the third time the clan had experienced dissension over her, a fact she knew was not lost on Bor.

So Wim had been correct in saying that Caw was finished with her. She felt relief for herself, but fear for Fel. The young wolf had challenged Caw in front of the others, and she knew the proud hunter would never forget.

#

In the weeks following the latest confrontation between Caw and Gar, Leya’s belly swelled ominously. She worried about her own safety and Fel’s. Fel seemed to know, for whenever Caw was in camp the young wolf kept a wary eye on him. At those times, after a special request by Wim, Gar took to sleeping beside Leya and Fel. He also remained nearby whenever Caw was in camp.

But Leya realized that this solution was temporary at best. She knew that Caw had lost face by letting Gar snatch his weapon and that he blamed her and Fel.

As the days shortened and the weather grew cold, the clan retreated into the cave. On good days the men made forays in the ravine below camp and the women ranged in search of deadwood. But most of the time they all hunkered around the fire. Despite an irregular but substantial supply of game from the hunters, the supply of smoked meat, vegetables, and berries in the frost pits declined.

Leya could see that winter was a harder season for these people than for her own tribe, whose greater numbers allowed them to organize big-game hunts on the frozen tundra. The clan should have taken her advice and made a greater effort to store food during the bounteous spring and summer, she knew, but they did not seem to look ahead as the People did.

Men and women alike began to lose weight, causing their corded thews to stand out even more and emphasizing their bladed noses. Leya was glad Fel was able to provide his own food, for she knew that otherwise Bor would have banished the young wolf.

Assuming that she managed to survive the coming birth, she wondered what would happen when the clan was faced with another mouth to feed—and not even one of their own. The way back to her own people led through knife-toothed tiger country, and in mid-winter the carnivores would be as hungry as the clan. She knew that, saddled with a
baban,
she could not attempt such a trip with only Fel to protect her.

She caught Bor watching her often and sensed that the leader was pondering what to do. Originally, she had been brought to camp to cure the shortage of females, but now that the prospect of a mixed
baban
was actually upon them, and Caw had bruited his contempt, that function seemed at an end.

What would she do if Bor decided the clan could no longer accommodate her? It was ironic, she thought, that originally she had been aghast at being captured by what she then thought of as Flatheads, and now she was worried that they might expel her.

One day in the middle of the coldest month, she passed a bloody show, and Wim told her she would go into labor within a few days. Her belly was now enormous, and she wondered how anything that big could pass through her canal. She had long since made a swathing-fur, collected diaper fuzz from cattail flower heads, and shown Wim how to make periwinkle tea to combat birth pains, infection, and fever.

Now, all she could do was wait and hope.

Within a quarter moon, false contractions began, increasing in duration and strength during the next half-day until they turned into full-fledged labor. Over the next day, Leya experienced nausea, trembling, and hot flashes, then a stretching across her hips. During each contraction, and finally in between, she could feel the child moving. It seemed huge. Wim encouraged her to squat, and the stretching turned into a burning and thence into intense pain. She felt a warm wetness, looked down, and watched blood gush between her legs.

“
Wim! The
baban
is dying.”

“
No. Wim steadied her in her squat. “Tot tear. Leya push!”

Leya’s distress intensified until it engulfed her. For what seemed an eternity, the child failed to appear. Defying her anguish, she pushed with each contraction. The world shrank to a point, the pain a ravening beast at the core of her being. Wim approached her with a flint knife, and she screamed as the old woman positioned the blade between Leya’s legs and slashed twice. Pain seared her brain, and she felt her slit spring apart. The pain grew until she thought no one could live through it. She heard an insane wailing and realized it was herself. Finally, rocking to a spasm of unspeakable agony, she felt the head pop out and then the shoulders rotate and squeeze through. Wim cradled the issue as it dropped, and Leya slumped backward, sweat bathing her face and streams of blood coursing down her thighs.