The Gathering Night (15 page)

I whistled under my breath, and Amets smiled. ‘Your People do this?' I asked him.

‘Yes, at every Gathering Camp. We'll come and cut what we need before we leave. You'll see.'

Amets led me further into the forest and showed me where there were bright earth-mushrooms. People had already been here with digging sticks, but there were plenty left. We picked some and chewed as we walked. As we ducked under the great branch of an old oak that reached sideways across the path Ortzi appeared between us and pulled Amets' sleeve.

‘What is it?'

Ortzi pointed at a gash in the oak trunk, where a blackened wound told how long ago a storm had ripped a big branch away. ‘Bees! There's a bees' nest up there!'

I squinted up at the trunk. The Sun was in my eyes, but now I saw the bees buzzing around the scarred wood. A black slit in the broken trunk could be a hole – I couldn't tell.

‘Look, Amets!' The boy was jumping up and down with excitement. ‘They're going in and out of that hole where the branch used to be. Can't you see?'

‘You have your uses, Ortzi,' remarked Amets. ‘Suppose you climb up and make sure?'

Eagerly Ortzi scaled the rough bark. He swung himself on to a wide branch just above our heads, and stood on tiptoe, his hands against the trunk, peering upward. ‘Yes, it is! Ow! There's hands-full and hands-full of them, going in and out! Ow! Amets, I think I can smell honey!
You
could reach it if you stood on this branch. Ow!'

‘Come down! You'll get plenty more stings later!'

Ortzi swung himself round the branch, hanging by his hands. He edged his toes into the rough bark and slithered down the trunk. He stood beside us, rubbing his palms on his deerskins, and grinned up at Amets.

Amets took no notice of him. ‘That's a new nest, Kemen! It wasn't here last Year. We'll come back with fire and baskets this afternoon. I think we might get something good! And Ortzi,' – Amets rounded on the boy – ‘you keep your mouth shut till then. I'll flay you if your friends get here first!'

Ortzi shook his head hard, and stretched his open hands to the spirits.

There'd been plenty of Animals about, especially red deer, roe deer and aurochs. Already People had set ground traps for small game, and bird snares in the trees. Of course now the Auk People were gathering in great numbers the Animals would retreat, but not so far that we couldn't follow. As soon as the Go-Betweens had spoken to the Animals about the Hunt, the great Hunt of Gathering Camp would begin.

‘Amets!' I spoke to him quietly when we'd gone a little way ahead, because I didn't want Ortzi to hear.

‘Yes?'

‘Will they let a stranger join the Hunt?'

Amets stopped and put his hand on my shoulder. He didn't answer at once. Then he said slowly, ‘Only the Go-Betweens know what the spirits say. But a spirit already spoke to Nekané about you, and what she heard was good.'

‘But a woman . . . will that make any difference?'

Amets shook his head. ‘The Go-Betweens here won't listen to her, no. What could she say about the Hunt? But what I mean is, Nekané told us that the spirits think highly of you. The spirits don't lie. That means they'll tell the real Go-Betweens the same thing.'

I hadn't thought of it like that, but what Amets said made sense.

‘Besides' – Amets shook my shoulder to emphasise the point – ‘ordinary men can speak too. What do you think Sendoa and I are likely to say about you?' He smiled at me.

I smiled back: I was a man, not a child or a woman, and I hid my anxiety.

‘Hush,' said Amets, ‘here comes the boy.' He shook my shoulder again and let it go. ‘Few People would argue with Sendoa, anyway,' he added lightly, as if our conversation had just been about that. ‘Isn't that true, Ortzi?'

Startled, but very happy that Amets should speak to him, Ortzi nodded dumbly.

We went back to the bees' nest in the afternoon. Our grass hats were pulled down over our ears, and our sleeves tied tight round our wrists. We rubbed seal grease over our faces and hands and feet. We had fire, axes and mallets, and a basket each. Amets spoke to the bees and told them we wanted their honey. He said we knew they had plenty, because this was their winter Camp, and all their winter stores would be gathered in. Amets told the bees we wanted them to stay in this oak tree: we'd leave enough honey – they didn't have to give us everything. We stretched our arms up to the Bee spirits. They agreed to give themselves. We climbed up to Ortzi's branch. Our faces were on a level with the hole in the tree. Now I could see the bees plainly, going in and out of their nest. Ortzi scrambled on to a thin branch so he could watch what we did.

‘You'll get stung if you stay there!'

‘I don't care! I've taken honey before! I know what bees are like.'

‘But you don't know what
these
bees are like – no one does – especially now they've heard you making so much of yourself!'

I glanced at the bees buzzing round Ortzi's head. My sister's son died of a bee sting – he'd lived two winters – Ortzi would never have lived this long if he'd been the same. I said nothing.

Amets took an ember from his pouch. My basket was full of dry grass and bracken. I passed Amets small handfuls. As soon as the tinder caught Amets put his face close to the hole, ignoring the stinging bees, and gently blew the smoke into the hole.

‘Does that kill them?' asked Ortzi.

Amets was blowing smoke into the hole, and didn't reply.

‘They'll think there's a fire,' I told Ortzi. I was glad to show this Auk boy that even Lynx men knew something! ‘They'll eat as much honey as they can. Then they'll try to get away. They'll eat so much honey to take with them, they'll be too gorged to sting. At least – not sting quite so much.'

‘I've got lots of stings already!'

Amets dusted ashes from his fingers. Two hands-full of heartbeats passed. He raised his axe. It thudded into the wood above the hole.

The tree was quite hollow. In a heartbeat we'd broken the scarred wood away with axes and mallets. Amets reached into the nest with both hands, one clutching his knife, his cheek against the rough bark. His hands came out clasping a great lump of waxy honeycomb. Bright yellow honey dripped between his fingers. Angry bees flew in his face, trying to sting him off. I held Amets' basket open. Two more shining handfuls and it was full.

I wriggled past him until I was leaning against the trunk. Amets held my basket. I didn't expect to fill it –
two
baskets-full would be too much to hope for. I groped in the darkness of the tree, my eyes shut so all my seeing went into my hands. Amid the stinging bees I felt the warm stickiness of honey. I cut through the nest with my knife, and eased my fingers through the waxy comb. I pulled a lump of honey away in my cupped hands and lifted it into the daylight. Rivers of sunlight oozed between my fingers. Thick honey clung to my hands, then slid reluctantly into the open basket. I licked my fingers. Sweetness sang on my tongue, full of light and memory. I shut my eyes to savour it.

I reached again into the dark hollow in the oak trunk. Once . . . twice . . . my basket was as full as Amets'. I felt around the hollow inside the tree with my sticky hands, but I couldn't touch the top of it.

‘Is there more? Is there? Can I have a turn?'

Ortzi slid down in front of Amets. He had a woman's basket – his mother's I suppose. That boy always had large ideas of what he'd find! Amets didn't speak to him, but he held the basket open for him. Ortzi reached into the tree as far as he could. ‘Ow! Ow! Ow!'

‘What did you expect?'

‘I don't care! I can feel honey! It's too far away! My arms aren't as long as yours!' Ortzi jumped up and thrust his shoulders into the gap. In spite of the angry bees settling on him he reached right in. ‘I've got some! Ow! Ow! I've got some!'

‘That's enough!' said Amets presently. ‘Three handfuls.'

‘But my hands are smaller than yours! There's more honey in there!'

‘For the bees,' said Amets. ‘You want to find them here next Year, don't you?'

‘Even so,' said Ortzi when we were all on the ground again, licking honey from our hands and faces, and picking out the stings from our bare skin. ‘I don't think anyone ever found this much honey in one nest before, Amets! And I found it!
You
wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't told you! D'you think I'll make a good hunter?'

‘No, I don't! Stand still – look at me – let me get those stings off your face before your mother sees you. You sing your own praises much too loud, Ortzi! The Animals will be so frightened of you they'll all run away. Isn't that right, Kemen? This boy is going to have to learn how to behave properly before he learns to hunt anything, don't you think?'

That evening the Go-Betweens spoke to the Animals about the Hunt.

Alaia said:

It always takes me a day or two to get used to all the People at Gathering Camp. There's so much to do in less than a Moon. What with dogs barking, gangs of children running round yelling, fights breaking out, singing all night long – different songs on every side of course – bargaining, visiting, gossip, crowds chanting while the Go-Betweens heal sicknesses and quarrels . . . And that Year People were asking us about Bakar all over again . . . that was hard.

Also I had Esti to show to everyone. Her name was new to us, so they were all eager to meet this small stranger. Woman after woman came to hold her, and look into her eyes, and say to her, ‘Welcome to the Auk People, Esti. You will always find food here!'

The Go-Betweens were going to speak to the Animals about the Hunt that evening. I said I'd stay in Camp with Esti and roast the hazelnuts as the women brought them to us. My aunt Sorné got back first. She tipped out her basket. As we spread the hazelnuts over the sand she was saying how Eguskiné had told her that Arantxa was full of some story about how Edur was going to take her daughter Osané. ‘Which is not what I'd wish for any daughter of mine,' my aunt said, smoothing sand over the fresh nuts. ‘He may be a great hunter, but meat isn't the only thing a woman needs in her life. Eguskiné thinks he'd settle down if he got Osané. I'm not so sure.'

Sorné helped me spread oak embers over the sand. She sat with me until we had a good roasting fire. Then she was off again – we'd be needing all the food we could get. Later I wished I'd taken my basket and gone with her. First I had a row with Agurné – their tents were next to ours and every morning their dogs were shitting on our ground, right next to my roasting pit. She said it wasn't their dogs – but I'd
seen
them. Oh, you know what it's like at Gathering Camp, but in our family we don't shout filthy words and throw dirt at each other. So when Eguskiné came over with the bloodstones I was still upset. I gave her blackberries, and hazelnuts still hot from the sand. We chatted for a bit before we talked about the stones, so I thought I was feeling better. But when she'd gone I opened the leather bag again and laid out the bloodstones, and realised at once I'd given two big flintstones for what was actually very little. It was too late now. I couldn't quarrel with Eguskiné. Her great-grandmother was also mine. And Eguskiné's hearth is always open, surrounded by songs and laughter. I didn't want to find myself shut out. And who knows when one of our family might need to go to Bloodstone Island to fetch stones, or get a woman? You never know. I've never been there, but I know the high mountains of Bloodstone Island very well – I often see them, far across the sea under the Sunless Sky.

I was trying to heat stones, split wood, scoop roasted hazelnuts off hot sand and suckle Esti all at once, when Amets came back, sleek as an otter from bathing in the beaver lake, his hair dripping over his eyes. He laid down a basket of trout, and immediately wanted me to comb out his wet hair and plait it again. So I had to stop everything and do that. I put Esti down on a hide. She began to cry. Amets picked up his daughter and held her naked between his hands, facing him.

‘Keep your head still or I can't comb your hair!'

Esti laughed in her father's face and pushed with her legs, dancing on his knees. She caught hold of a strand of wet hair and pulled it.

‘Ah, you would, would you? Have you no respect for your father? What's your mother been teaching you? How dare you look me in the eye, little daughter?'

Esti chuckled and tried to grab his nose.

‘What did I do, eh, to be surrounded by all these women who have nothing better to do than pull my hair and laugh at me?'

‘D'you want me to stop then?'

Amets reached up, holding Esti with his other hand, and seized my wrist, laughing. ‘You know I never want you to stop!'

He went away when I'd trimmed his hair with my knife and plaited it again. I was behind with my work now, but I felt better.

Anyway, we had plenty of food. Amets brought the trout, and my father had gone over the hills to the marshes with his dog and taken two mallard. I was pleased for him: he couldn't go hunting with the young men any more, but he could creep and hide in the rushes as well as ever, and I never knew anyone, man or woman, who could use a bow as well as my father did. The reason I remember so well is that this was the last day that my father brought home meat: he who provided so well for us all my life. Of course we'd been hungry in bad seasons – no one could avoid that – but with my father we'd never known real want.