Jean Auel - The Clan of the Cave Bear

Finally the quaking subsided. A last few stones tumbled off the mountain, bounced, rolled, then came to rest. Dazed and frightened people started to pick themselves up and wandered around with blank stares trying to collect their shaken wits.

They began to gather around Brun. He had always been their rock, their stability. They gravitated toward the security he had always represented.

But Brun did nothing. He believed, in all his years as leader, the worst judgment he had ever shown was making Broud leader. He realized, now, how blind he had been to the faults of the son of his mate. Even his virtues, his fearless bravado and reckless courage, Brun now saw as manifestations of the same uncaring ego and impulsive temper. But that wasn't the reason Brun refused to act. Broud was leader now, for better or worse. It was too late for Brun to step back in and train another man, though he knew the clan would have let him. The only way Broud could ever hope to lead, the only hope for the clan, was to make him lead now. Broud said he was leader-defiantly, totally out of control, Broud said he was leader. Well, lead, Broud, Brun thought. Do something.

Whatever decisions Broud made from now on, or lack of them, Brun would not interfere.

When the clan was convinced that Brun was not going to take back the leadership, they finally turned to Broud. They were used to their traditions, accustomed to their hierarchy, and Brun had been too good a leader, too strong, too responsible. They were used to his taking command in times of crisis, used to depending on his calm and reasoned judgment. They didn't know how to act on their own, to make decisions for themselves without a leader. Even Broud expected Brun to take over; he needed someone to lean on, too. When Broud finally came to the realization that the burden was now on him, he tried to assume it. He did try.

«Who is missing? Who is hurt?» Broud motioned. There was a small collective sigh of relief. Someone was finally doing something. Family groups started to gather together, and as the clan assembled amid gasps of surprise at seeing a loved one they were afraid was gone, miraculously, no one seemed to be missing. With all the falling rocks and shaking earth, no one was even badly hurt. Bruises, cuts, scrapes, but no broken bones. That wasn't entirely true.

«Where's Ayla?» Uba cried with an edge of panic.

«Here,» Ayla answered, walking back down the slope, forgetting for the moment why she was there.

«Mama!» Durc cried, breaking loose of Uba's protective grip and running to her.

Ayla broke into a run, swooped him up, hugged him tightly, and carried him back.

«Uba, are you all right?» she asked.

«Yes, nothing serious.»

«Where's Creb?» Then Ayla remembered. She shoved Durc at Uba and ran back up the slope.

«Ayla! Where are you going? Don't go into the cave! There may be aftershocks.» Ayla didn't see the warning, nor would she have heeded it. She ran into the cave and straight for Creb's hearth. Stones and gravel cascaded spasmodically, making small piles on the ground. Except for a few rocks and a layer of dust, their place in the cave was undamaged, but Creb was not there. Ayla checked every hearth. Some were totally demolished, but most had some salvageable items. Creb was not at any of the hearths.

She hesitated at the small opening that led to the place of the spirits, then started in, but it was too dark to see. She'd need a torch. She decided to check the rest of the cave first.

A spattering of gravel fell on her and she jumped to the side. A jagged boulder crashed to the ground, grazing her arm. She searched the walls, then crisscrossed the room, poking into deep shadows behind storage containers and large boulders in the unlit cave. She was ready to get a torch, then decided to try one last place.

She found Creb beside Iza's burial cairn. He was lying on his deformed side with his legs pulled up, almost as if they had been tied into a fetal position. The large, magnificent skull that had protected his powerful brain, protected it no longer. The heavy rock that crashed it had rolled a few feet away. He had died instantly. She knelt down beside his body and her tears began to flow.

«Creb, oh, Creb. Why did you go into the cave?» she motioned. She rocked back and forth on her knees, crying out his name. Then, for some inexplicable reason, she stood up and began to make the motions she had seen him make over Iza, the burial rite. Silent tears clouded her vision as the tall blonde woman, alone in a rock-littered cave, flowed through the ancient, symbolic movements with a grace and subtlety as accomplished as those of the great holy man himself. Many of the motions she did not understand. She never would. It was her final offering to the only father she knew.

«He's dead,» Ayla gestured to the faces staring at her as she emerged from the cave.

Broud stared at her along with the rest, then a great fear gripped him. It was she who had found the cave, she whom the spirits favored. And after he cursed her, they shook the earth and destroyed the cave she found. Were they angry at him for wanting her cursed? Did they destroy the cave she had found because they were angry at him? What if the rest of the clan thought he had brought this calamity down on them? In the deepest recesses of his superstitious soul, he quavered before the ill omen and feared the anger of the spirits he was sure he had unleashed. Then, in an impulsive flash of twisted reasoning, he thought if he blamed her before anyone could blame him, no one could say it was his fault, and the spirits would turn on her.

«She did it! It's her fault!» Broud gestured suddenly. «She's the one who made the spirits angry. She's the one who flouted the traditions. You all saw her. She was insolent, she was disrespectful to the leader. She should be cursed. Then the spirits will be happy again. Then they will know how we honor them. Then they, will lead us to a new cave, even better, even luckier. They will. I know they will. Curse her, Goov! Now, do it now! Curse her! Curse her!»

Every head turned to Brun. He stared straight ahead, jaws clenched, fists doubled up, the muscles of his back shaking with tension. He refused to move, refused to interfere, though it took every bit of willpower he had. The clan looked uneasily at each other, then Goov, then Broud. Goov stared at Broud in absolute disbelief. How could he blame Ayla. If anyone, it was Broud's fault. Then Goov understood.

«I am the leader, Goov! You are the mog-ur. I order you to curse her. Curse her with death!»

Goov turned abruptly, picked up a burning, pitchy pine branch from the fire that had been started while Ayla was in the cave, walked up the slope, and disappeared into the, dark triangular mouth. He picked his way carefully around fallen rubble, watching the occasional fall of rocks and gravel, knowing an aftershock could bring tons down on his head, and wishing it would before he did the thing he had been ordered to do. He went into the place of the spirits and lined up the sacred bones of the cave bear in parallel rows, making formal gestures with each one. The last bone was put into the base and out the left eye socket of a cave bear skull. Then he said aloud the words known only to mogurs, the terrible names of the evil spirits. The recognition that gave them power.

Ayla was still standing in front of the cave as he walked past her with unseeing eyes.

«I am the mog-ur. You are the leader. You have ordered Ayla cursed with death. It is done,» Goov motioned, then turned his back on the leader of the clan.

No one could believe it at first. It was too fast. That wasn't the way it should be done. Brun would have discussed it, reasoned it out, prepared the clan for it. But he wouldn't have cursed her in the first place. What had she done? She was insolent to the leader and it was wrong, but was it cause for death? She had just been defending Creb.