Emergence

Emergence

Ba’an refused to release his hold on Sula’s fingers, as she entered the cave supporting baby Aa in the sling, but the entrance could only accommodate one person at a time, so he had to skip in her wake to avoid tripping over her heels.

Male devotees stood around the edges of the cavern holding torches. The flickering light caused shadows to dance eerily across the walls, bringing to life the strange paintings that adorned them. Ba’an was overwhelmed with a sense of wonder and awe of the earthly womb, from which everything had sprung - worrying that the Great Mother might swallow them all. He longed to take a good look at the fantastical creatures depicted in the cave paintings, but Sula dragged him along to join the small crowd gathered before the matriarch.

The Amta’a sat cross-legged on a flat rock covered with the pelt of a cave bear, huge breasts resting in her lap, her golden-hued skin glowing in the torch-light. A grey wolf’s pelt hung from the matriarch’s shoulders, matching her short peppercorn hair in colour. Behind her stood an archway leading to the inner sanctum, the matrix of creation, where The Mysteries were enacted.

The matriarch silenced the excited murmurs with a shake of her bone rattle and began reciting the genesis: how the world had emerged from the darkness of the Great Mother’s womb, how she abandoned the earth in winter but returned in spring to make the land fruitful once more.

Ba’an soon lost concentration and picked his nose. He ate a bogey in an attempt to appease the grumblings of his shrunken stomach, while imagining the juicy insect grubs that would soon be available to feast on. The congregation chanted a chorus of supplication, each time the matriarch finished a verse of the cosmogony. Ba’an mumbled along with them, in between the yawns that earned a look of disapproval from Aunt Nola.

He tried to pay attention. Amta’a talked about the light forcing back the darkness, recalling the birth of the world; the sun's rays being still feeble but radiating hope and expectation for a summer of plenty to follow the dearth of winter and the abstinence it had imposed on the folk. She finished the sermon by looking forward to spring progressing into summer - the oak woods teeming with life once more, the herds returning to the plains and the rejuvenating sunshine instilling the folk with optimism and a renewed zest for life.

Ba’an was relieved when the service ended, allowing them to exit from the gloom and re-emerge into the daylight, as though born again. They made their way through the crowd of pilgrims waiting their turn to enter the cave.

The group moved along the embankment, women collecting the ash-wood javelins they used as staffs, the older children gathering their walking sticks. Hamsa led them into the forest, following a game track through the leaf-littered beech wood.

Aa soon woke up and cried for milk, Sula threw the front of her fox fur shawl over her left shoulder and offered her a swollen teat.

As Ba’an watched his sibling suckle, his mouth began to salivate. “Ma’at,” he whined, “just a drop for me – please.”

“Would you steal your sister’s life, Ba’an?”

“No… but I’m so hungry I could die.” He gave her his most endearing look and twitched his nose. His face mirrored his mother’s, right down to the freckled cheeks.

“Three sucks only, you hear?” She gave him a stern look.

“I hear.” His face lit up with joy.

Sula paused to prepare her right pap, leant the staff against her shoulder, and then squeezed until a few drops of milk dripped on to her doeskin skirt. Ba’an seized the teat with his teeth, reluctant to waste any of the sustenance. After three long, greedy sucks, he took another. Sula slapped his head, calling him a thief. Ba’an retaliated by nipping her teat with his teeth and making her yelp, before he jumped away to escape her wrath. Sula quickly grabbed her staff and extended it, so that the tip poked in between his ankles, tripping him. Ba’an fell forward to sprawl in the mud and leaf-litter.

The women and girls made clicking noises with their tongues, ridiculing Ba’an; the smaller boys giggled and tutted. He picked himself up with a sulky expression and wrinkled his nose.

Once Sula had walked on a safe distance, Ba’an shouted, “You’ll never be Amta’a – your paps are too small.”

“Don’t pull faces,” Sula called over her shoulder. “You’re ugly enough.”

Ba’an trailed behind the group, fuming at the indignity he’d suffered in front of the silly girls. He vented his frustration on the ferns bordering the trail, swiping at them with his stick. The effort used up too much energy, so he soon stopped swinging to carry on walking, but dropped further behind. He wanted to beat the girls who had ridiculed him, but to do so was taboo. Why did girls have to be so special, just because they brought forth life?

“Come on, Ba’an,” Sula called out.

“I don’t need you,” he said to himself, “I’m a man now.” Another explore of his nostrils failed to produce anything worth eating. Then he heard the howl of a wolf in the near distance and started. He began to run, dragging the stick behind him and shouting, “Ma’at.”

Ba’an caught up with Nola, who had stopped to adjust her moccasin straps, little Kel still suckling at her breast while suspended in the sling. He begged her for a drop of milk, but she answered with foul language and called him a big baby. His mouth opened with the intention of telling her she was far too skinny for a woman, but then he thought better of it and ran on to his mother.

He cautiously approached Sula with apologies. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and twitched her nose at him.

“Ma’at, why does the Great Mother desert us in winter? Why can’t we have lots of food all the time?”

“Because it’s how it is, Cub. Don’t ask silly questions.” Sula searched in her pouch, found a small strip of dried wisent meat and offered it to him. “I’ve been saving it for you,” she replied to his surprised expression.

While several women squatted to relieve themselves, Ba’an concentrated on softening the meat. Standing taller than the rest, Nissa stood aloof from the gossiping to scan the tree-line with suspicious eyes, warning the children not to stray from the group.

Toilet break over, they approached a bend in the track to be greeted by the cawing of rooks. Lithe and athletic, Lis and Sanga’a ran ahead, pulling short oak-wood throwing sticks from their belts. By the time Ba’an had rounded the bend, the young women were collecting a downed blackbird each. The felled rooks were added to those already hanging around their waists.

Then Hamsa took the pilgrims on a detour, heading away from the trail in a south-westerly direction. They followed her waddling form through a wood of predominantly ash and alder, to the apple orchard, which would be visited frequently later in the summer. A rich, nutty, earthy aroma carried to Ba’an’s nostrils on the light breeze, indicating that the harvest would be a good one. He had helped burn away much of the encroaching undergrowth the previous autumn. The charred ground was now covered in yellow pinecone mushrooms with honeycombed caps, nurtured by the recent spring showers. Everyone set about gathering the fungi into small leather sacks or collapsible baskets of interwoven bark, expressing their satisfaction by the clicking of tongues.

Ba’an’s mood was elevated as they started on the final leg of their journey home, despite the skies becoming overcast and the breeze turning chill. They passed through open glades amid the oak woods, a competition ensuing to find the best herbs to complement the highly anticipated meal to come. Dandelion leaves and fennel were plentiful, but occasionally someone would discover a prize like borage, parsley or sorrel. Ba’an made Sula proud by finding a celery patch.

The forest was left behind as they began the ascent into the rocky hill country, Nissa walking point ahead of Hamsa, with Lis and Sanga’a bringing up the rear of the file. Nissa suddenly halted, bringing everyone to a standstill – sensing danger, Lis and Sanga’a ran forward.

A pair of under-nourished, short-maned lions crossing the trail ahead had paused to eye them hungrily. Ba’an fitted a pebble to his little sling, panting in excitement. Backed by Lis and Sanga’a, Nissa stepped forward confidently, all three brandishing their staffs to threaten the cats with the fire-hardened points. A trilling ululation, produced by dancing tongues, began to emanate from the group, rising in intensity and causing the big cats’ ears and tails to twitch nervously. Still, the lions remained defiant, until a pebble from Nola’s sling thudded into the flank of the foremost.

As the lions furtively slunk away to disappear amongst the rocks and gorse bushes, Ba’an skipped forward to send a wild slingshot in their general direction. “Go away!” he called after them. “The cave is ours now!”

Most of the women ridiculed his belated attempt at bravery, but Nissa fondly patted his head, complimented his spirit and picked him up for a shoulder carry.

The group reached the cave complex to be greeted by the two pike-wielding old men on sentry duty. With the exception of a narrow, open gateway, the south-facing cave mouth was screened by a fence of interwoven hawthorn and pyracantha branches. A leather curtain covered the upper half of the entrance, serving as a wind-break.

Nissa put Ba’an down, allowing him to skip inside first. To the left of the entrance stood a long recess, its back wall relatively straight, providing an infirmary where incontinent elders and crippled hunters lay side by side wrapped in furs, a medium-sized hearth keeping them warm. Other elders, who had not been up to making the pilgrimage, sat around the large central hearth, threading beads or hafting flint blades. The returnees joined them and warmed their hands before the crackling flames.

In a small alcove to the right, an ivory figurine stood on a natural rock shelf, carved in the image of an exaggeratedly voluptuous woman with pendulous breasts and steatopygic buttocks. Before the figure, a small fire burned in a shallow natural bowl formed in a flat-topped slab of rock, emitting aromatic fumes: an eternal flame kept fuelled with the bark and dried berries of juniper bushes. Lis checked the bowl and added some more kindling.

The younger women told the elders about the good turnout of the clans for the ritual of rebirth, before they returned to their chores, preparing animal pelts or making bead jewellery and joking about their rumbling stomachs.

Everyone eagerly anticipated the return of the hunters, guessing what they would be bringing home. The women gossiped and joked about the men, extolling or ridiculing the hunting and sexual prowess of particular individuals, and matching up the phallic-shaped mushrooms with their respective manhood. The mushroom stems were skewered at the base with hazel rods, in preparation of hanging. The older women clicked encouragement; the male elders grinned but said little.

Sula knelt on a rug by one of the smaller hearths, to set about repairing a basket. Ba’an joined her and played with the skull of a small long-toothed cat, all the while taking in the social interaction.

The gathering season was about to begin, freeing the women from almost complete reliance on the hunters, for which they expressed relief. They chatted enthusiastically about the anticipated abundance of fish, reptiles and amphibians, along with birds’ eggs, grubs, fruit, nuts, fungi, roots and herbs - but most of all bee jelly, and the liquid gold of sweet, sticky honey.

“Shut up,” scolded old Rella, the most venerable member of the clan and former matriarch. “You’re making my mouth drool.”

Hamsa announced that she had something important to say - she was the most voluptuous woman after the Amta’a, though her curves had shrunken over the winter - it was expected that she would succeed the paramount matriarch in time, if she could improve her memory. She addressed Lis and Sanga'a, who were sitting together separating herb leaves from stalks.

“You two must start lying with men, not just Kena. If you do not bear children, the men will suspect.”

Rella agreed with her and scowled at the girls. Lis and Sanga'a remained proud and defiant, prompting Nissa to scold them. Despite her feminine appearance and demeanour, Nissa’s raised voice betrayed her true gender. “Listen to the elders; don’t spoil it for everyone else.”

“And you!” Rella pointed at Ba’an. “It’s time you went to live with the men and prepared for life with another clan.”

“Ma’at,” he pleaded with Sula. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You must, Ba’an,” she replied, “unless you want to be a heemon like Nissa, or a shaman like Laiken?”

“But Ren didn’t leave,” he whined.

“So, go become the lead-hunter like him,” Sula hissed impatiently. “I have Aa to look to now; you must make your own way.”

Ba’an grabbed a flaming brand from the fire and stomped off in a sulk towards the rear of the cave. He passed through a low archway into the main rear chamber and paused, allowing his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. The cavern was damp, with water trickling down its algae-coated walls or dripping rhythmically from stalactites. After placing the brand on the floor, he squatted before a small rock pool, to scoop up water with cupped palms and slurp at it greedily.

As Ba’an returned to the main chamber, his elder sister ran into the cave, carrying a bundle of firewood. “They’re coming,” she cried excitedly.

“What do they bring, Kalli?” asked Rella.

“Not much.”

The hunters entered cautiously, evidently fearing the sharp wit and sarcasm of the women. Kena stepped forward, swathed in the pelt of a lioness, and placed a fox by the fire. A murmur of approval rippled through the women and elders. As always, the huntress bowed to Lis and Sanga’a. The girls clicked their approval, collected an elk skin and torch, and then headed into one of the cavern’s recesses, followed by Kena.

Ren stepped up next, with a brace of rabbits; he wore a bearskin cloak, along with a necklace of the beast’s teeth. Not bad for the time of year, was the opinion of most. He honoured Sula, who made him wait a while, as though thinking it over.

Ba’an glared at Ren with jealousy and spite; he loathed anyone touching his mother, even though he enjoyed eating their offerings. She always disappeared into the bushes with Nissa when the group gathered berries, causing him to grind his teeth in frustration.

Sula passed the baby to Kalli and followed Ren to the rear of the cave.

Narin looked like a walking hyena. He provided a single rabbit and approached Nissa, hanging his head in embarrassment as the women clicked their tongues in amusement.

The whole assembly erupted in mirth when Torek, the fox, offered a rat in exchange for Nola’s affection.

“I’ll take him,” said Rella, when Nola declined the offer.

Torek looked disappointed, but he obviously did not wish to insult the old Amta’a.

Two of the women took pity and patronised the most attractive-looking of the remaining men. The rest of the hunters squatted on their haunches looking glum and dejected. They waited for the consolation prize as the women prepared the game for roasting.

Ba’an took the rat by the tail and dangled it in the flames of the fire, singeing away the rank black fur. Other children furiously plucked at the rooks’ feathers or toasted mushrooms to purge the poison.

The sounds of moans and groans echoed from the rear of the cave; it disgusted Ba’an – he couldn’t help grimacing at the bumping and grinding going on out of sight. Once again, he determined not to act like that when he grew up. The elders giggled and made crude remarks regarding the sounds.

Once the bones had been picked over and sucked clean of marrow, the hunters prepared to retire to the upper cave.

“Take him with you,” Rella pointed at Ba’an.

His spirit sank as Ren took him by the hand and dragged him towards the entrance. Sula’s eyes locked with his in empathy, betraying how helpless she was to do anything about his removal. Ba’an cursed his luck at having not been born a woman.

Outside, the hunters collected their flint-tipped spears, javelins, bows and quivers, before heading in single file up the steeply inclined path, towards the upper chamber.

Ba’an had never entered the hunters’ cave before; the stale odour of men assailed his nostrils. The chamber was much smaller than in the communal cave, the roof so low in places that Ren often had to stoop his head. Ba’an was thrilled to find the interior decorated with numerous sun-bleached skulls: mammoth, auroch, elk, wisent and long-toothed cats, amongst others he wasn’t sure about. In a recess at the rear of the chamber stood the clay image of a wisent, pierced by numerous spear points.

Laiken was sitting cross-legged before the hearth, enjoying a large buck hare all to himself. He paused to wipe the grease from his chin and stare at Ba’an with beady, intelligent eyes. The shaman’s nose was curved and hawkish, his pate completely bald; his bony form seemed skeletal and the long, thin neck protruding from a cape of raven feathers gave him the appearance of a vulture. By Laiken's side lay a head-dress mounted with the antlers of a red hart. It was difficult to discern whether he was young or old. Ba’an had always been terrified of the shaman’s mystical aura.

The hunters settled down on the soiled bearskins around the hearth. Ba’an knelt between Ren and Kena, trying to avoid the shaman’s gaze.

“He’s the one,” declared Laiken, pointing a talon-like forefinger at Ba’an. “He is my successor. He has the gift – it is in his eyes.”

“It is good,” Ren agreed. “They say he has a good memory.”

What should have been a great honour distressed Ba’an immensely, considering how the last sorcerer’s apprentice had been trampled to death by a bull auroch. Two other boys had also perished in the hunt, leaving a wide age gap between Ba’an and the next youngest hunter.

The sight of the men’s semi-erect penises peeking from beneath their kilts provided a constant distraction for Ba’an.

“I’m still hungry,” Torek complained. “Why should we give the women most of our meat, when they can store enough fat on their backsides to see them through the winter?”

“You know why,” Kena replied.

Kena’s smile caused Torek to look embarrassed and even more resentful.

“What about the young and old?” Ren asked him. “You were a child once, and one day you’ll be old, if you live that long.”

“Rella gave us some wisdom,” Narin told Laiken. “She said not to travel east to the plain this time, in case the herds are late again.”

Laiken snorted in disgust. Ren pursued the matter. “That’s true. Rella said go south to the valley beyond the twin peaks.”

“What does the crone know of hunting magic?” Laiken waved his hands dismissively. “The Horned One will guide me to the herds.”

“You said that last season,” Torek said timidly. “Old Kai agreed with Rella.”

Laiken stared them all down. He then returned to his meal, indicating that the matter was closed.

Ba’an listened intently as the hunters indulged in their own peculiar kind of gossip and moaned about toothache. They seemed to know much fewer words and clicks than the women and elders, and they frequently resorted to sign language, which he found difficult to follow. Mostly their talk revolved around hunting and fighting, the combats they had witnessed between beasts, along with a fascination for large paps. A long debate took place, based on wondering if Hamsa’s paps were bigger or smaller than those of the Amta’a, or Rella’s, when she were younger. Kena seemed just as bad as the men.

Ba’an couldn’t help sneaking occasional looks at Laiken, who remained reticent throughout the small-talk and seemed impatient to get something off his chest. Eventually, the shaman silenced the hunters, his voice conveying complete authority.

“Last night, I ate the sacred earth caps and visited the spirit world. There I spoke with the Horned One, who told me of his dissatisfaction with the affairs of the folk. He told me how The Mother could not have given birth to the world without lying with the Great Serpent, and how women cannot bear children without the seed of men. The women have fooled us into believing we have nothing to do with bringing forth life, but it is a lie. Because of this lie the Horned God was made subservient, forcing us to suffer the rule of women.”

The hunters looked perplexed and a little awkward as they tried to digest the enormity of the shaman’s claim. Ba’an looked to Kena - she shook her head.

“So…” Torek struggled to formulate the words. “We are equal… the folk cannot survive unless we lie with women.”

“Then… the children are ours also!” Narin shouted.

“Nissa’s not a woman,” Kena couldn’t help exercising her wit at Narin’s expense. He hung his head in embarrassment once more.

Ren seemed unconvinced, but not inclined to contradict the shaman.

“Have you noticed…?” Laiken leaned forward, seeking greater intimacy. “How the girls Lis and Sanga’a only lie with Kena, and how they have not yet brought forth life?”

“But they are still young,” Kena interjected.

“Not that young,” Laiken continued. “They are several seasons past the age when giving birth becomes possible. Don’t think that because I keep to myself, I don’t see what goes on down there.”

A long pause followed while the hunters digested Laiken’s words. Ba’an examined each face in turn, waiting to see who would speak first.

“It’s true!” shouted Ren, suddenly persuaded.

“Some women never become fruitful,” Kena argued. “Not everyone is blessed by The Great Mother - it is so with me.”

“Two girls who never lie with men – like you,” Laiken shook his head, “too much of a coincidence.” The shaman became angry. “Do you doubt my ability to converse with the spirits? The Horned One has spoken through me.”

“You must speak with them,” Ren enthused, “teach them the truth.”

“They already know the truth, they deny it because it grants them power. Besides…” Laiken looked uncomfortable, “it would be better if you challenged them, they would only accuse me of interfering again, blaspheming.”

With the exception of Kena, the other hunters encouraged Ren, boosting his confidence. Ren grabbed his spear and led them out of the cave. Ba’an tagged along behind. They reached the entrance to the communal cave, Ren pushing the lone sentry aside.

The women and elders looked shocked by the sight of the hunters returning armed - the cave filled with the sound of murmured disapprovals. Ba’an ran to Sula for a comforting cuddle, but he hardly took his eyes off the protagonists.

“What is it?” Hamsa sounded irritated; she stood to face Ren.

“Laiken has journeyed to the Other World and spoken with The Horned God, who told him that women cannot bring forth life without lying with men.”

A stunned silence fell over the chamber. Hamsa looked a little embarrassed, guilty even. “So, the sorcerer has been stirring up trouble again. You should know better than to listen to that old fool. He should leave the sacred mushrooms alone, they’re sending him crazy.”

“The Horned One has spoken through Laiken,” said Torek.

“What about them?” Ren pointed at Lis and Sanga’a. “They do not lie with men and no life comes forth, same as Kena.”

Hamsa eyed Kena suspiciously. The huntress shrugged and rolled her eyes upwards in denial of any involvement in the rebellion. Ba’an could sense the tension and hugged Sula tight. The folk held their breath - they looked to their matriarch, but Hamsa seemed lost for words. The game was up, or so it seemed.

“Blasphemy!” cried Rella. She struggled to her feet and waved her stick at Ren.

Nissa stepped forward to face Ren, matching him in height. “How dare you storm in here armed, insulting Hamsa and The Great Mother whom she represents? The Amta’a will here of this. You all deserve to be banished.”

“We are hunters!” Ren shouted, spraying spittle in Nissa’s face. “We slay the great tuskers and snub-nosed bear. We are not fools!”

The hunters roared in approval and beat the butts of their spears on the ground.

Ren altered his posture, threatening to strike Nissa with the shaft of his spear. But still, the heemon refused to back down. Several infants began to wail in distress at the sounds of violent confrontation. Ba’an chewed his lower lip.

“Ren!” said Kena, her tone of voice calm but firm. “Remember you are a man.”

Ren looked a little embarrassed but remained non-contrite.

As Ren’s spear returned to stand passively by his side, Nissa backed off with a final argument. “Go with Laiken and follow your own path; children will still be born without you - then you will see the error of your ways.”

The matriarch seemed to regain her composure and relax. She began to patronise Ren, as though he was a child struggling to understand things beyond his comprehension.

“Kena is not blessed with fruitfulness - why else do you think she lives as a man? Lis and Sanga’a are special, The Great Mother requires them to tend the Sacred Flame, and for that they must remain pure, neither bringing forth life nor lying with men.”

“I have not heard of this ritual,” Ren protested. “Since when has The Mother decreed this?”

“Since when have hunters understood The Mysteries?” Hamsa returned impatiently. “You are not male guardians. The Mother commands and we obey, all rituals are subject to change.”

Ren looked uncertain, but not inclined to let it lie. He addressed the male elders, seeking support. “Venerable ones, you are men like us; Laiken says the women are fooling us and the children are ours – you must know the truth.”

Kai spoke for the elders; he was the eldest male and had been a great hunter, until a cave bear crippled his left leg. He was busy carving a javelin caster, but paused to address Ren.

“You are young and foolish. Laiken is not content with controlling you, he seeks power over everyone. Since when have men brought forth life? That is all I have to say.”

The remainder of the male elders nodded their heads in complicity and mumbled their agreement.

Ren’s shoulders slumped as his conviction deserted him. The other hunters took an unconscious step back towards the entrance, fidgeting like naughty children caught in the act.

“Ma’at!” Ren beseeched Hamsa. “Forgive me, I have been foolish.”

The hunters hastily withdrew, leaving the rest of the clan to grin at each other.

Rella turned to Hamsa. “Now I know for certain that you will be our Amta’a, one day.”

Hamsa raised her voice, so that everyone could hear. “Just imagine, what kind of world it would be if men ruled society – the selfishness we would have to endure. All the order The Mother has created would descend into chaos.”

The sounds of laughter and clicks of amusement echoed around the chamber.

“Ma’at!” Ba’an pleaded with Sula. “I don’t want to be a hunter. Can I be a heemon like Nissa?”

“If that’s what you want, Cub,” she offered him a nipple to suck.

Ba’an relaxed for the first time that day, content to be back within the fold once more. He revelled in the group’s shared consciousness - a kind of consciousness without the loneliness of individuality.