The Cusp, Part XII
The gathering was beginning to wind down. There had been a great deal of socializing, trading, and renewing ties. Each evening there was a communal fire in the large clearing where the shaman presided over ceremonies tying the people to the mother and the ancestors. Then there were stories, games, dances, and songs. During the day young men competed in foot races, wrestled, held contests with their hunting weapons and watched for eligible women. The tribes understood that young men needed outlets and guidance to avoid conflict. Young men were valued as hunters and for their strength, but traditions and customs taught them restraint, gave them value, and an identity. Conflicts were rare.
A few days before the gathering ended the hunter and the other men in the camp sat under a tree. It was hot and they had removed their shirts. The hunter was straightening and shaping the arrow shafts as they talked. The old one he had carried to the gathering had joined them. The two bands had been visiting back and forth throughout the gathering and were comfortable with each other. The old one was well liked. The women of the camp were absent doing chores or visiting. The woman and the cousin had left in the morning to hunt with their throwing sticks and gather what they could. The old one sat on folded robes under the tree leaning against the trunk. With his shirt off they were able to see the scars on his body. Each scar was a story of a life lived as a hunter and part of his tribe. Those who looked closely could see a bump on his left arm where it had been broken and healed. They had learned more of his life from his band and his stories. He was slowly coming to grips with the loss of his woman and filling his role as a valued elder.
The old one was telling a hunting story. The men under the tree were able to tell that the old one had been skilled in his younger years. A group of four young men approached them. They wore their hair in many braids and walked with a swagger as opposed to the easy movements that marked an experienced hunter. The obvious leader was a large young man with a scraggly beard. The other three were younger and trying hard to look like him. The leader spoke interrupting the old one.
“We are great hunters in our band.”
They had breached custom by not introducing themselves and waiting for the men under the tree to rise and grasp forearms. Rudeness was deeply frowned upon among all the tribes. None of the men rose to greet them, a silent signal that they should correct their behavior and remember their manners. The old one spoke.
“You forget your manners young one.”
“Who are you to speak to us old man? What do you know of being a great hunter?” His tone was sarcastic.
The uncle was sitting beside the old one. With his shirt off his tattoos were visible. He was a member of the same hunter society as the hunter who had married the woman. His tattoos were of a wolf and an auroch. The wolf was chosen as a symbol of hunting skill, and loyalty to family and band. The auroch for strength and courage. Those who did not know the uncle well might have thought that he was only a comic and a storyteller. In fact, he was an expert hunter and tracker and had shown courage many times. He could be very serious when the situation called for it. He and the hunter were blood relatives and close friends. The uncle’s voice was sharp as he spoke.
“This HUNTER was feeding his people and protecting his band when your grandfather was still suckling and filling his diaper. You WILL honor that. Those scars tell what he is. What are you?”
The leader looked chastened, he was a braggart and had been called out. The men were surprised. The uncle was usually smiling and joking. The leader looked to the hunter who had married the woman. He saw the necklace made from the lion’s tooth and claws. The braggart spoke.
“Nice necklace.” The hunter said nothing.
“Did you trade for it?”
At that moment the woman and the cousin returned from their hunting and foraging. They had hares and partridges as well as greens. There was enough for the camp to have a meal. They had gutted the partridges and then coated them with clay working it well into the feathers. The birds would be baked in the coals. When the clay was cracked off the feathers would come with it and the meat would be tender. Because of the heat both women were topless as were most of the women at the gathering. The hunter spoke to his woman.
“You had luck wife.”
The woman gestured to the cousin.
“This one is very good with the throwing stick. She made grouse calls and got them to stay still until she got close enough to take them.”
The women looked to the four men. The hunter’s wife was striking. Her hair was pulled back and tied in a way that kept it out of her face and off her neck. The women called it a “horse tail”. Her skin glistened with sweat. She had firm full breasts, a flat belly, strong legs, and wore her tooth and claw necklace. She stood proud because she was secure in her place in her tribe. Her status had risen when she married and would rise again if she became a mother. She had a single braid of hair in front of her left ear with a small bead on the end. This indicated she was newly married. If she had a child, she would stop wearing the braid. The cousin was slender, a little shorter than the woman, and pretty with small developing breasts. She wore her like the woman partly to keep it out of the way while she hunted and partly because she wanted to be like the woman. They were becoming very close. The hunter spoke to the braggart.
“That woman was with me when we traded for these necklaces. She is a very sharp trader. We got them and the lion’s skin in the same trade.”
The hunter winked at his woman.
The braggart spoke.
“What did you trade for the skin, claws and teeth?”
“Two broken spear points and an arrow.”
“Two broken spear points and an arrow! What fool would trade so poorly.”
“The owner no longer needed the skin, teeth or claws.”
The woman spoke.
“It’s true. The owner didn’t need them anymore. We made a very good trade.”
The braggart looked at the women in a way that made the cousin uncomfortable. She moved behind the woman and put on her shirt. The woman looked the braggart straight in the eyes. Had he known her better he would have known that the look was not a good one. The braggart was not a good judge of people. He spoke to the hunter.
“Your woman’s attitude is not good. If she were my woman I would beat some humility into her.”
The hunter started to rise but the woman held up her hand and spoke.
“If I were your woman and you beat me, you would wake up with your manhood missing. Don’t be afraid. There is no danger of me ever being your woman.”
The braggart looked shocked and spoke to the hunter.
“You let your woman speak to a man in such a way?”
“My woman isn’t speaking to a man.”
The hunter stood. The braggart saw his broad shoulders and strong legs. His expression was serious bordering on angry. The braggart went back to the necklaces.
“I don’t believe you got all the lion parts for two broken spear points and an arrow.”
The younger brother and the woman’s father stood. The younger brother spoke.
“I was there and saw the “trade”. That woman is my sister and that hunter is now my brother by marriage. They do not lie.”
“Who would have traded a lion skin, teeth, and claws for two broken spear points and an arrow?”
The old one began a high cackling old man laugh that was infectious. Everyone under the tree began to laugh. The old one spoke.
“They are telling you, CHILD, that they got the necklaces by killing the lion. Your ears are too close to your loud mouth to work properly. Perhaps in time the mother will give you wisdom.”
The braggart glared and clenched his fists.
The shaman was sitting under a tree about twenty steps away. It was a place where she liked to come and watch the activity of her people during the day. Her years had given her insight, and she was adept at reading body language. She was wearing a simple skirt and a loose linen top decorated with spiritual symbols. She wore the top because the people expected a shaman to look the part. Beside her was her carved staff. It was as casual as she could be in public, one of the many demands her culture placed on her. It was a good gathering and the camps were happy. She was close enough to the men under the tree to observe and hear, but far enough away that custom did not require them to acknowledge her. She liked to see people acting naturally. She had heard about the hunter carrying the old one to the gathering and how he had given him back his sense of purpose. The shaman was aware of most things that happened in the camp.
The shaman had seen the four men approach the tree where the men sat with the old one. She watched the men’s faces and body language change at the braggart’s rude behavior and the way he looked at the women. She knew of the band the four came from. There had been a sickness that had taken many of the men. The leader and the youths with him had been praised and spoiled by the survivors. They had not had the benefit of older men as role models and had become full of themselves. More often than not their hunts were unproductive and the women supported them. The shaman saw that the situation could escalate. She had no doubt that a physical altercation would end poorly for the four. She stood and walked to where the strangers and the men were standing. The shaman carried her staff and walked with purpose. When she reached the tree she spoke.
“The mother and sky father have blessed us with a beautiful day. It is always good to see people of different bands meeting for the first time.”
The uncle spoke.
“We have not met.”
“They are standing right here, how could you not have met them?”
“They do not know how men meet. They are poorly educated.”
“Perhaps formal introductions should be made. I will make them.”
The shaman began with the men gathered under the tree. She started with the old one stating his name, tribe, clan, band, and using the word for esteemed elder. Then she introduced the woman’s father and then the others. She recited their names, tribe, clan, band, and relationship to each other. The shaman had an extensive memory and could recite the same details about most of the people in the tribe. Then she introduced the hunter’s father. When she introduced the hunter and his uncle, she included that they were members of a hunter society. She introduced the women giving the same information and added that the woman was the hunter’s wife and the cousin was a blood relative. Then she introduced the four stating their tribe, band, and clan. They did not have honorifics. When the introductions were made there was a long silence. The men under the tree were reluctant to grasp forearms with the braggart and his hangers on, but the shaman looked expectant. The men reluctantly grasped forearms with the strangers in a way that barely satisfied custom. Then the hunter spoke.
“These four were telling us that they are great hunters in their band.”
The shaman spoke.
“I have noticed that many of the hunters at the gathering were having friendly competitions with their weapons. It is a good way for men to get to know each other.”
The braggart spoke.
“We are great hunters; we would win against any four at this gathering.”
The shaman spoke looking at the hunter.
“Perhaps four of you could have a contest with these four.”
The hunter read the shaman’s meaning. She was very wise and he saw where she was going.
“Who would judge this contest?”
“I would be happy to judge. I’m sure the people at the gathering would enjoy seeing skilled hunters having a friendly contest.”
A discussion was held among the people under the tree. The hunter did not like competing but sensed what the shaman was doing. Then there was a discussion with the shaman about what weapons would be used. The braggart spoke.
“We will win with any weapons. We are great hunters.”
In the end it was decided that each team would have one member with a throwing stick, one with a throwing spear, and two archers. The contest would be the following day at mid-morning in the clearing where the nightly fires were lit. The braggart and his three left. The shaman nodded to the men under the tree. It was a nod that conveyed more than a speech could have. When she had left the hunter spoke to the cousin and asked her if she and the young ones could make life size clay figurines of hares and partridges. The cousin said that the young ones would enjoy getting muddy.
The woman and the cousin were hungry and snacked on some dried meat while the hares were made into a soup in a boiling basket and the partridges baked in the coals. The cousin had removed her shirt as she worked near the fire. She spoke to the woman.
“The way that braggart looked at me was strange. It felt wrong.”
“Men like to look at women and women like to look at men. It is part of how the mother made us. There is nothing wrong with that. The way he was looking at you was a different kind of look, and he is not a good man. He was being disrespectful. That is why you were uncomfortable.”
“You were not uncomfortable?”
“I saw the braggart for what he is. I have been a woman longer than you. You are still getting used to the changes in your body. The braggart did not know how to react to a woman who knows who she is. It will come to you as you grow. Never be ashamed of being a woman. The mother gave us the ability to bring life; it is something to be proud of.”
“I have only seen that look on my cousin’s face a few times. It takes a lot to make him angry.”
“I saw the look and know what it means. He and his uncle, my father and my brother were ready to defend us. They are good men. I spoke to the braggart as I did to keep them from acting. They are protective of us. Remember what you saw here today when you look for a mate.”
“I have already found a mate.”
“Is that so?”
“I will marry your younger brother when we are of age.”
“Has he agreed?”
“He may not know it yet, but he will be my husband.”
The woman laughed.
The soup was ready and the partridges were pulled from the coals. When the clay was cracked off them the feathers came with it. The meat fell from the bones. It was very tender. The old one had stayed for the meal, and the cousin served him soup in a bark container and some of the partridge meat on a slab of wood. It was tender enough that he could chew it with his gums. After the old one had been served the rest of the camp filled their bark containers. When everyone had eaten the hunter wrestled with the young ones as they climbed on him. As evening fell, they made their way to the clearing where the evening fire was being lit. They walked behind the old one as he leaned on a spear. No one passed him. It was a sign of affection and respect. There were stories and songs around the fire and the shaman told of the old ones who had been shown the land by the mother.