The Gathering Night (40 page)

‘See Koldo, Oroitz and Itzal – your sons! Shall the People cast them out?' A great gasp rose from the People. Oroitz and Itzal clutched one another's arms in terror. Zigor never looked round. ‘You! You're their father! Should Koldo, Oroitz and Itzal be cast out? What could anyone do to deserve that?'

Zigor stood over Arantxa's husband, and swung his arm round to where Arantxa's sons stood open-mouthed in horror. ‘You won't say? Then I'll tell you! Listen, every one of you! Hear this: two things only deserve that a man should be cast out! Only two things! One of those things is to let your parents starve!'

Itzal had covered his face with his hands. ‘You are no father to them!' cried Zigor. ‘They owe you nothing. They must never give you anything in this world again! No, even if you starve, Koldo, Oroitz and Itzal must never give you food again!'

He turned round, and pointed straight at the cowering man. ‘The other thing you know. If a man takes his daughter, his sister or his mother he will be cast out! Cast out for ever! If a woman willingly takes her father, her brother or her son, she will be cast out! Cast out for ever! But if she's raped, it makes his wrong the worse. You raped your daughter! Once would have been wrong enough. You did it often – how often none of these People can bear to think. She was a child! Osané has done no wrong. You wronged her! Not only Osané – every one of the Auk People now suffers for the wrong you have done.'

Zigor called the man by name.

‘You hear your name? You will never hear it spoken in this world again. I call you by your name, and tell you to leave us. Go! You no longer belong here! Go where you will – the world is wide – but never come near any of the Auk People. Seize him!'

All I could see were men's backs. All I could hear was People shouting. From their midst came a shriek that cut me to the bone. I clapped my hands over my ears. I couldn't make it stop. Shrieks echoed through my head, high and broken, like a pig being eaten alive.

‘Mamma!' Bakar screamed. Alaia let go of both of us. We were crying.

Then Osané was there too. Bakar clung to his mother. He was howling. I held on to my mother. I didn't like her running off like that, even to fetch Osané. All four of us clung to each other.

Later I saw that man again. He was alone, crouched on the ground, whimpering. His back had gone away. The place where it had been was black and shining. His back had turned into blood.

I didn't know what it meant.

Later I understood. They'd taken their knives and scraped away the marks that said who he was. Now he wasn't one of the Auk People any more.

They sent him away.

The People fell back to let him pass. No one wanted to touch him. He staggered towards us. He'd picked up his deerskin tunic. He was holding it in one hand. Blood slid down his bare arm; it dripped from his wrist. Alaia pulled me out of his path.

He saw Osané. She held Bakar's face against her shoulder so Bakar couldn't see. I was the one that saw. I saw how that man looked at Osané as if he were an Animal about to die. He didn't ask for anything. I couldn't see her face. I don't know if she gave anything back.

All the noise had stopped. The silence was terrible. No one spoke or moved.

He walked away. The People parted to make a path for him. Only his dog wanted to follow him. Edur held him by the scruff of the neck until his master was out of sight. No one spoke until Osané's father had gone away into the darkness of the woods.

Only the dog kept whining. Edur tied him to an oak sapling. The dog went on howling long after the men had gone to the Hunt. Neither Arantxa nor her children made any sound at all, but the dog howled enough for all of them.

All night long the dog howled for his lost master. Later I got to know that dog well. After a while he started following Itzal around, and so Itzal became his master. That dog settled down, but every Year when we came to Gathering Camp he'd leap out of the boat before we'd even landed, tail high, and rush ahead to the clearing, barking with excitement. Osané's father still lived in that dog's heart; it was the one place left where no power on earth could wipe him out.

Nekané said:

At my back I heard the footsteps of the Animals, softly at first, growing louder as they drew near. Now the three Drums behind me were beating out the footsteps of the Animals. My Drum joined its voice to theirs. I listened to the footsteps of the Animals, and I drummed what I heard. No woman had done that for as long as any of the People could remember.

The footsteps drummed louder. They came from the very edges of the clearing. The ground shook under my feet, beating out the footsteps of the Animals.

The three Lynx men stood on one side of the Healing Place, and Arantxa's three sons on the other. All but Basajaun stood with bowed heads. Itzal had his hands over his ears. Kemen kept his face covered. Only Basajaun outfaced the spirits. The spirits swirled round the six men, making fiery patterns in the air, winding the men together in ropes of blood. The Animals caught us in their footsteps as we drummed. Through our Drums they beat out the pulsing cords that held those men together. I raised my head and saw how the red cords stretched back to the Beginning, and disappeared into the hidden Years ahead.

Aitor cried out.

The Drums stopped.

The footsteps vanished. Feeble echoes of their beat stuttered from the gathered People, and died away.

Aitor held his hands up to the spirits. To us he was a black shape outlined against the fire. The People on the far side of the fires had to strain their eyes to see him through the wreathing smoke.

Aitor spoke. ‘These men standing here are shamed by the spirits. Every one of them has cause to be ashamed. What will we do with them now? Do we want men who are shamed to live among us?'

The People were silent for many heartbeats. Then someone stepped into the Moonlight from my own hearth. I peered through the smoke, but only when he spoke did I recognise him.

Amets looked up at the Go-Betweens and said, ‘We've no choice, Aitor. Show me a man who says he's not ashamed about anything and I'll show you a liar. We're all shamed. I can tell you what I'm ashamed of myself.'

‘Why would we want to hear that?' said Aitor coldly. ‘But speak if you must.'

Amets faced him firmly. ‘Edur once did me a good turn. He stayed at Initiation Camp in my place. He lost his woman because of that. That was my fault. I didn't mean it to happen. But it did. So I'm ashamed.'

‘What's that to me?' said Aitor. ‘You made a mistake. Why whine about it now?'

‘Because, Aitor,' – Amets sounded angry, and no wonder – ‘you may be Go-Between, and know a lot of things I don't. But
I
know that every man here – and woman too, perhaps, though I don't know much about what
they
think – has some reason or other to feel shame. The spirits are showing us that all these different shames are joined up. Why punish Arantxa's sons and not anyone else? You could say what happened in their family wasn't their fault. I left my own parents long ago, but I can tell you one thing – I'm glad they weren't like Arantxa and her man. Koldo, Oroitz and Itzal, I can see why you're ashamed, but I don't think anybody here wants you to carry the blame for ever. I'm not Go-Between, but I'm a good hunter, I'm one of the Auk People and I have daughters of my own. And now I've said one part of what I think.'

All round the clearing People shouted and stamped and clapped their hands. Men surged forward and surrounded Arantxa's sons, pounding their backs and shaking their arms. When Aitor raised his arms to speak again the men fell back to the edges of the clearing, taking Arantxa's sons with them so they were lost in the crowd. Only Amets still stood before Aitor, with the three Lynx men on his left.

‘Well,' said Aitor, with a glint of a laugh in his voice. ‘You've settled that matter, Amets. It looks as if we all agree with you. So what's the other part of what you think?'

Amets jumped up to the Healing Place next to Kemen and pulled his hands away from his face. ‘This man,' he said. ‘Kemen.' He turned Kemen to face the People, holding Kemen's hands so he couldn't hide his face.

‘What about this Lynx man?'

‘No!' Amets grabbed Kemen's tunic by the neck and ripped apart the grass twine that fastened it. He tore the deerskin away so Kemen stood naked to the waist. Amets swung Kemen round so everyone could see him. ‘Look at him! Look at his back! Is that Lynx? Is that Lynx?'

People muttered. Someone called out, ‘I read Lynx, inside the red stripe!'

‘
Inside
! And on the outside' – Amets turned the unresisting Kemen in a circle again so everyone could see his back – ‘
Auk
! And now read this!' Amets pulled his own tunic over his head and flung it away. He turned his back to where the voice had come from. ‘What do you see? A man born into the Seal People – read that, inside the red stripe – and below it – what? Doesn't it say
Auk
? Am I Auk, or not? You People can read what's written here – I can't see it – what does it say?'

Amets had no enemies anywhere, except what his association with my family had brought him. The People shouted so loud that the rooks woke in their nests, and rose up squawking.

‘Auk! Auk! We read Auk!'

Even Edur was shouting with the rest. When Amets showed Kemen to them again, the shouts were almost as loud as before: ‘Auk! Auk! We read Auk!'

Sendoa and his brothers ran forward to surround Kemen, but before they could take him back into the crowd with them Aitor held up his hands. ‘Wait!'

Everyone froze. Amets and Sendoa were holding Kemen by the arms, one on each side. They stood sturdily before the Go-Betweens, and made no move to let Kemen go.

Aitor said to Amets, ‘You would say, I suppose, that just as Arantxa's sons are shamed by their family through no fault of their own, this man too is shamed by his family though he himself has done no wrong?'

‘That's what I say.'

I watched Amets curiously. I'd never seen my daughter's easygoing husband in this mood. My own man used to say that, although he never worried Amets would be unkind to Alaia, he wasn't sure he trusted Amets to stand up for her. It wasn't that he was weak – Amets was a brave hunter, and very strong – but more that he mightn't take an important matter seriously enough to bother. I wondered what my husband would have said if he'd seen Amets standing up to the Go-Betweens, looking as dangerous and truculent as a newly wakened bear.

Kemen tried to pull away. ‘Amets . . . Sendoa . . . I can't let you do this. I'm ashamed . . .'

‘That's what I'm saying.' Amets didn't look at Kemen. He kept his eyes on Aitor, as if the Go-Between were a boar about to charge. ‘Aitor, Zigor just told us that there were only two things a man could do to be sent away from his People for ever. Kemen is one of the Auk People, and he's done neither of those things. He's ashamed because his brother and cousin have murdered an Auk man. But Kemen
is
an Auk man, just as I am. His own son, Bakar, is the very one who was murdered when he was here before! Kemen has to live with his shame, just as the rest of us do. We don't punish each other for what our families do. How can we? We're of one People: we're all related to each other's shame. I can't let you People wrong Kemen. He's my brother. If you wrong him, you wrong me.'

Aitor said, ‘You're a good man, Amets. People will listen to what you say. From now on Edur will know that you're his friend. You're right: Kemen is one of us. But he also comes from these Lynx People. The Lynx spirits he brought here with him have brought us grief and pain. Since he came, the Animals have refused to give themselves. Was that because Bakar was murdered? The murder wasn't Kemen's fault. But the Lynx People's lands were swept away, these men fled towards the Evening Sun Sky, and all that we've suffered followed from that.'

‘Wait!'

I'd been surprised already by Amets. But that
Alaia
should come forward and brave Aitor, with all the People watching her, astonished me more than anything else could have done.

Alaia's voice shook, but she faced Aitor as bravely as her man had done, and said, ‘I'm one of Kemen's family too. Bakar was my brother. Even though he's come back as Osané's son, I'll always miss the brother that I had – that's what Bakar first was to me. But listen: if Bakar hadn't been killed, then my mother wouldn't have gone Go-Between. If my mother hadn't gone Go-Between, Osané would have died when her father attacked her. That wrong would never have been put right. Supposing that had happened – the Animals might have been so angry they'd never have given themselves again. If Bakar hadn't died, that's what would have happened. And Osané would never have married Kemen. But she did, and so Bakar came back to us. And Kemen is Bakar's father, and Kemen has made Osané happy, instead of her being dead. Bad and good are all mixed together, just like with everybody else.'

Now Edur ran forward into the firelight: ‘But what about these murderers? You're all talking about Kemen . . . Kemen this and Kemen that . . . We've heard quite enough about Kemen. What about these other Lynx men that I brought here? What do we do with them? Decide that, and we'll know what to do with Kemen. Kemen hasn't said anything for himself. Is he going to be loyal to his brother? Will he share what happens to Basajaun?'