The Gathering Night (14 page)

That night we all camped on a sheltered beach behind a low-lying island. We were up before dawn to cross the head of Long Strait at slack water. That was my first sight of Gathering Camp Loch. I'd never seen anything like it! You're all used to the way it narrows and widens again; how the tide races through the narrows and slackens into broad stretches; how the loch curls like a snake, first one way and then another; how if the mist's down you have to read where you are from the colour and feel of the water because the bits of land you see will all try to deceive you. Gathering Loch knows how to keep strangers away! You're all used to dodging the rocks and islands that rise up to bar your way. None of you notice that the land itself is trying to stop you. It doesn't worry you that at every headland and island Gathering Loch pretends to come to an end, and then you turn the corner and there's a great stretch of sea still lying before you.

Neither was I used to the way the tide does your work for you – I was still frightened of being swept along so fast. Sendoa had told me we'd only sail with the flood every day. I soon saw why: there's no point struggling against the ebb in Gathering Loch. These days I'm happy to set up Camp for half the day along the way. I like having lazy days feasting with kin from other islands as we all make our slow way into the heart of the Auk People's hunting lands. But on that first voyage I was anxious to get there. I wanted to make my life among the Auk People, but I knew my test would be waiting for me at Gathering Camp. I wanted to get it over.

As the arms of the hills enclosed us, the sound of the Open Sea was left behind. The sail was no good to us any more. Sendoa rolled it up and lashed the mast down. We paddled over white-capped waves setting our course for Loch Island, as the flood flowed under us. As we drew close to the island I saw two stags on the shingle drinking from a River that flowed into the loch. I narrowed my eyes to see them over the shining water. Both Animals had rounded bellies and sleek hides. The old stag raised his heavy antlered head – tatters of velvet still hung from the points – to stare at us. The younger one – he was only in his second Year – stirred uneasily. The old one knew no Stag had agreed to give himself that day. The great Hunt of Deer Moon comes just before the Rut. Until Gathering Camp is over, all the stags have to do is keep out of the way.

Of course if a stag crosses a man's path before the Hunt, that man will take what the spirits have given. But for the little space before the Rut the stags are not part of the Hunt. In Deer Moon, men become Stags. Men roam the hills and watch the hinds. Men choose the hinds and circle them. Men take what the spirits have given. This is why men say that the great Hunt is the Rut that comes before the Rut. Because at Gathering Camp men are also choosing hinds – of a different kind! They watch them and circle them. They fight off their rivals. Sometimes they die. They're driving their slippery hinds into a different kind of trap. They'll take them if they can get them! Yes, you boys over there! You may well laugh! You know what I'm talking about!

My thoughts had drifted far-off. My heart had been filled with hopes when we set out for the Auk People's Gathering Camp. But the fear in the heart of that young stag flew over the water and wreathed itself round my own heart. The spirits of the Hunt are very powerful. If you get on the wrong side of them they're dangerous. Long after we'd paddled past, the image of that young stag lingered inside my eyes. I only gradually became aware of the talk going on around me.

‘I thought we were going to beach on Loch Island?'

‘We won't waste the flood. Not with a good wind like this. We'll take the channel, and keep going until slack water.'

‘Sendoa wanted Hodei to see Kemen before we got to Gathering Camp.'

My ears pricked up at the sound of my own name.

Sendoa said, ‘He's right: we can't waste this tide. We'll find Hodei later on, at Gathering Camp.'

‘Who is Hodei?' I asked Sendoa.

In front of me Ortzi snorted. ‘He doesn't know!'

Sendoa leaned over and boxed Ortzi's ears. ‘Enough! You may be a stranger yourself some day! D'you expect the spirits of far places to be kind to you then, if you can't show them any respect now?'

Ortzi kept his sore head down, and paddled furiously. No one spoke as Sendoa steered us into a narrow channel, following Amets' boat in front. The tide surged through the narrow gap, sweeping us with it, past green and gold woodland on our left hand, and a craggy island on our right. A group of children were standing at the top of the crag on the island. They whooped and cheered as our hand-full of boats shot through the channel. Haizea yelled back, ‘Argi! Argi! We'll see you at Gathering Camp!' I hardly glanced up; I could see water pouring over jagged rocks a bare paddle's length away. I still wasn't used to the Auk People's ideas about travelling!

When we'd raced through the channel into gentler waters Sendoa gave me an answer. ‘Hodei's one of our Go-Betweens. He usually stays on Loch Island all summer. You can see how it is – no one can pass through Gathering Loch without the People on Loch Island knowing about it. It's Hodei's Birth Place. The spirits of Loch Island are very powerful. If Hodei decides in your favour, Kemen, you couldn't wish for a stronger friend.' Sendoa stopped speaking while we rounded a point on the High Sun Shore. I'd thought we were almost at the end of Gathering Loch, but now what seemed like a whole new loch opened up before us. When we were in open water again Sendoa went on, ‘That's why I hoped to take you to Hodei before he leaves Loch Island. But while wind and tide are as kind as this I daren't anger the spirits by refusing their gifts. For your sake, Kemen, I want to keep the spirits of Gathering Camp on our side in every way I can!'

While I was thinking about Sendoa's words, Haizea shouted from the bows: ‘I can see Sharp Peak!'

I looked where she pointed, and saw a far-off mountain peak. It looked like a double tooth, with a little dip in the middle of the peak. I felt another tremor run through the men around me, between one paddle stroke and the next, like a bowstring suddenly pulled taut. I gazed at Sharp Peak, and the mountain spoke to me of the great Gathering Hunt of the Auk People. It knew we were drawing close. A little shiver ran up my spine. If I'd known how . . . But the spirits had told me enough. When I next glanced up the mountain had hidden itself in cloud. A swathe of rain drifted across the hills around us, and pattered on the water as we paddled on.

Next morning's tide brought us to an expanse of shingle and salt flats where a River flowed out from the Sunless Sky. We could see the head of the loch at last. There were a lot of boats already carried up the flats and weighed down with stones. We laid our boats beside them and picked up our baskets and rolls of hide. I caught myself trembling, and drew in my breath to stop myself, hoping no one had seen. This Deer Moon would set the course for the rest of my life. I turned my back on the others and stretched up my arms to the spirits. I was a man and I would not beg. But as a stranger I humbly asked the Auk spirits to accept me. I told them that although this place was new to me, I wanted to belong here. I asked for the chance to show them – and these Auk men – how well I could hunt. I asked for the chance to show them – and these Auk women – how much I deserved a woman to take me into her family.

I expect my friends knew what I was saying. Although I was a stranger no one tried to stop me speaking to the Auk spirits. I looked round, blinking, and saw that everyone had set off towards the River. I took the hides they'd left for me to carry, and followed the others across the flats, picking my way from tussock to tussock of tough salt-grass. Little rivulets of shell sand ran between the tussocks, with broken shells and bits of seaweed stuck in the cracks. I walked towards the River: the spate had left a tangle of seaweed and brown leaves behind it. The air was shrill with oyster catchers, and gulls wheeled, screaming, above my head. I looked back the way we'd come. The wind blew patterns across the ebbing tide, telling me that until it changed there was no easy way out. I stood still, clutching the rolled-up hides to my chest. I breathed deep, and smelt the kind air of Gathering Camp; it told me that I could easily become familiar with this place.

I'd seen so few People in Auk lands that I'd thought the lands under the Evening Sun Sky were almost empty. Of course I was wrong. The path upriver had been ground into mud by many feet. The air was heavy with the smell of People. The River wound between marshlands and reed-filled beaver lakes. I forded a chattering burn and found myself among oaks and hazels. Light slanted through the leaves; moss and lichen gleamed as if flames were licking up the tree trunks. Rapids gushed over rocks as the banks grew higher. Suddenly I was afraid. My friends had gone ahead of me, and the air smelt of many strangers. I saw light ahead of me, and ran towards it like a deer hurtling into a trap, the hides bumping on my back.

I stopped short at the edge of the clearing. Like a trapped deer, I wanted to turn and flee. There was nowhere to go. Never in my life had I seen so many strangers at once. You Auk People – you women who'll never leave your own lands – you boys who've never yet left your family hearth – you can't begin to know what it's like to come upon hands-full upon hands-full of strangers – People you've never seen before – whose names you've never heard in all your lives.

Through the wreathing smoke of my confusion I saw how the People's hearths formed a great circle with the Go-Betweens' mound in the middle. All the spirits of Gathering Camp clustered above that one green mound in the middle of the clearing. I felt a warning in my blood, as if I were coming close to a sleeping bear or hungry hunting wolves. As I watched, the fires on the green mound flamed high among crackling pine branches. Smoke billowed across the clearing. Looking up, I saw two cloaked figures through the smoke.

I was the stranger: these Auk People had nothing to fear. Children and dogs were scrambling up the steep sides of the Go-Betweens' mound. They'd catch sight of the cloaked figures of the Go-Betweens through the wreathing smoke, and slide back down, shrieking in delighted terror.

Then Sendoa pulled me over to the family hearth, and I forgot about the mound with its clustering spirits. Fear fled into the shadows. Everyone was greeting everyone else with roars of delight and much slapping of arms and backs. All around me women and men were hurrying from hearth to hearth so I couldn't see where anyone belonged. But with Sendoa pushing me forward, they all greeted me kindly. Some even brought out roasted hazelnuts from their pouches and insisted that I eat.

Gathering Camp is Auk all right! You can tell by the din! Gathering Camp is like all the Auks gathered together on the nesting cliffs of White Beach Island after their long winter out at sea. But Lynx is a silent, solitary Animal. I won't say our People were always true to Lynx in that – but the noise you Auks make when you're all together is enough to frighten away any spirits except your own!

But Auks are kind. They'll nest alongside kittiwakes and gulls. They take no notice of shags on the rocks below or rock doves in their hidden clefts, or pipits among the puffin burrows. No one at Gathering Camp seemed worried about me. And I was pleased to find, when I spoke to these new People, that they understood what I said. Since Yellow Leaf Moon I'd worked very hard to speak like the Auk People. But even today my tongue still tells strangers that I wasn't born under the Evening Sun Sky.

Later on, People told me about the journeys they'd made to get to Gathering Camp. In my country we don't sail across the Open Sea. Why would we? There aren't any islands, and a boat can – could – follow the coast as far as it wanted to go. But some of these Auk People had made long journeys across the Open Sea from distant islands, from which, they told me, the hills above Gathering Camp looked blue and far away, and very often weren't visible at all. Not all these far-off People come to Gathering Camp every Year – they counted a lot of kin who'd stayed behind – but I soon realised that although the Auk People are thinly scattered, they hunt under many skies.

As soon as we'd pitched our tents Amets took me round to show me what a good place this was. It didn't occur to anyone else that I wouldn't know my way. Ortzi and the dogs tagged after us. We took no notice of them, and Ortzi was pleased not to be sent away. Amets showed me the fish traps along the River and the paths that led up to the high Hunting Camps. Everywhere we went there were skulls wedged in the trees: Wolf, Stag, Lynx, Fox, Aurochs, Bear and Boar. Some were green and rotting; many still gleamed white. A hand-full were fresh kills. I could see that this land gave itself generously to the Auk People.

I was pleased I could say to Amets that Gathering Camp seemed a good place. I'd been embarrassed when Amets and Sendoa had taken me across to Flint Camp in Seed Moon. When we'd sailed into the wide bay the Auk men said we'd get enough flint there to last the winter – as if we had to collect all our stone at once! But we didn't find any flints that I'd even have bothered to pick up in Lynx lands. I knew my silence was as bad as an insult, so now I was very glad I could say good things to Amets about the hunting lands at Gathering Camp.

The land was full of birds: sparrows, tits and chaffinches scavenging in the Camp; pigeons, rooks, turtledoves and songbirds in the forest; and ducks, moorhens, geese and herons in the marshes. We certainly weren't going to be hungry! Amets showed me the beaver dam and the pool above it where someone was fishing from a coracle. He explained how we don't take beaver close to Gathering Camp because they look after the dams that hold in the trout pools, and they cut down trees that give us firewood for the whole Gathering. Amets led me uphill to the hazel grove. The trees were already laden with nuts, and the grove was surrounded by a circle of thicket where the hazel had been cut back to the ground to make clumps for wands.