Read The Land of Painted Caves Online

Authors: Jean M. Auel

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Sagas, #Women, #Europe, #Prehistoric Peoples, #Glacial Epoch, #General Fiction, #Ayla (Fictitious character)

The Land of Painted Caves (68 page)

“It does, doesn’t it,” Ayla agreed.

“There are a couple of small rooms that have some interesting paintings,” the Watcher said. “If you like, I’ll show you.”

“Yes. I’d like to see as much as I can before we have to leave,” Ayla said.

“You can see here, behind the male pendant, there are three lions. And after the bleeding rhino, there is a little corridor that leads to a beautiful horse,” the Watcher said, leading her to show the way. “And here is the big bison at the end of the panel. Inside this area is a big lion, and some little horses. The area across the way is very hard to get into.”

Ayla walked back toward the beginning of the chamber to where the First was resting on a stone. The rest of the visitors were nearby.

“Well, what do you think, Ayla?” the woman asked.

“I am so glad you brought me here. I think this is the most beautiful cave I have ever seen. It’s more than a cave, but I don’t know a word for it. When I lived with the Clan I didn’t know you could see something in real life and make something that looked like it out of something else.” Ayla looked around for Jondalar, and smiled when she saw him. He came closer and stood with his arm around her, which was what she wanted. She needed to share this with him. “Then when I went to live with the Mamutoi and saw the things Ranec could make out of ivory, and others could make using leather and beads, and sometimes just a stick making marks on a smooth floor of dirt, I was amazed.”

She stopped and looked down at the damp clay floor of the cave. All the people with their flickering torches were gathered together in one place. The pool of light didn’t spread very far and the animals painted on the walls were just hints in the darkness, more like the fleeting glimpses that most people saw in the world outside.

“On this trip, and before, we have seen other paintings and drawings that were beautiful, and some that were not so beautiful, but remarkable just the same. I don’t know how people do this, and I can’t begin to know why. I think it’s done to please the Mother and I’m sure it must, and maybe to tell Her story, or some other stories. Maybe people do it just because they can. Like Jonokol, he thinks of something to paint, and he can do it, so he does it. It’s the same when you sing, Zelandoni. Most people can sing, more or less, but no one can sing like you. When you sing, I don’t want to do anything but listen. It makes me feel good inside. That’s how I feel when I look at these painted caves. It’s how I feel when Jondalar looks at me with his eyes full of love. It feels like the ones who made these images are looking at me with eyes full of love.”

She looked down at the floor because she was fighting back tears. She could usually control her tears, but she was having trouble this time.

“I think that’s how the Mother must feel, too,” Ayla finished, her eyes glistening in the flickering light.

Now I know why she’s mated, the Watcher thought. She’s going to be a remarkable Zelandoni; she already is, but she couldn’t do it without him. Maybe that’s what the Mother meant him to do. Then she started to hum. Jonokol joined her. His singing always seemed to make others’ songs sound better. Then Willamar joined in just singing syllables. His voice was adequate, but it added to the music they sang together. Then Jondalar joined them. He had a good voice, but he didn’t sing except when others did. Then with the voices making a background chorus that resonated inside the stone cave that was so beautifully decorated, the One Who Was First Among Those Who Served The Great Earth Mother began where she had left off with the Mother’s Song.

And Her luminous friend was prepared to contest
,
The thief who held captive the child of Her breast
.
Together they fought for the son She adored
.
Their efforts succeeded, his light was restored
.
His energy burned. His brilliance returned
.
But the bleak frigid dark craved his bright glowing heat
.
The Mother defended and would not retreat
.
The whirlwind pulled hard, She refused to let go
.
She fought to a draw with Her dark swirling foe
.
She held darkness at bay. But Her son was away
.
When She fought the whirlwind and made chaos flee
,
The light from Her son glowed with vitality
.
When the Mother grew tired, the bleak void held sway
,
And darkness returned at the end of the day
.
She felt warmth from Her son. But neither had won
.
The Great Mother lived with the pain in Her heart
,
That She and Her son were forever apart
.
She ached for the child that had been denied
,
So She quickened once more from the life force inside
.
She was not reconciled. To the loss of Her child
.
When She was ready, Her waters of birth
,
Brought back the green life to the cold barren Earth
.
And the tears of Her loss, abundantly spilled
,
Made dew drops that sparkled and rainbows that thrilled
.
Birth waters brought green. But Her tears could be seen
.
With a thunderous roar Her stones split asunder
,
And from the great cave that opened deep under
,
She birthed once again from Her cavernous room
,
And brought forth the Children of Earth from Her womb
.
From the Mother forlorn, more children were born
.
Each child was different, some were large and some small
,
Some could walk and some fly, some could swim and some crawl
.
But each form was perfect, each spirit complete
,
Each one was a model whose shape could repeat
.
The Mother was willing. The green earth was filling
.
All the birds and the fish and the animals born
,
Would not leave the Mother, this time, to mourn
.
Each kind would live near the place of its birth
,
And share the expanse of the Great Mother Earth
.
Close to Her they would stay. They could not run away
.
They all were her children, they filled Her with pride
,
But they used up the life force She carried inside
.
She had enough left for a last innovation
,
A child who’d remember Who made the creation
.
A child who’d respect. And learn to protect
.
First Woman was born full grown and alive
,
And given the Gifts she would need to survive
.
Life was the First Gift, and like Mother Earth
,
She woke to herself knowing life had great worth
.
First Woman defined. The first of her kind
.
Next was the Gift of Perception, of learning
,
The desire to know, the Gift of Discerning
.
First Woman was given the knowledge within
,
That would help her to live, and pass on to her kin
.
First Woman would know, How to learn, how to grow
.
Her life force near gone, the Mother was spent
,
To pass on Life’s Spirit had been Her intent
.
She caused all of Her children to create life anew
,
And Woman was blessed to bring forth life, too
.
But Woman was lonely. She was the only
.
The Mother remembered Her own loneliness
,
The love of Her friend and his hovering caress
.
With the last spark remaining, Her labor began
,
To share life with Woman, She created First Man
.
Again She was giving. One more was living
.
To Woman and Man the Mother gave birth
,
And then for their home, She gave them the Earth
,
The water, the land, and all Her creation
.
To use them with care was their obligation
.
It was their home to use, But not to abuse
.
For the Children of Earth the Mother provided
,
The Gifts to survive, and then She decided
To give them the Gift of Pleasure and sharing
,
That honors the Mother with the joy of their pairing
.
The Gifts are well earned, When honor’s returned
.
The Mother was pleased with the pair She created
,
She taught them to love and to care when they mated
.
She made them desire to join with each other
,
The Gift of their Pleasures came from the Mother
.
Before She was through, Her children loved too
.
Earth’s Children were blessed. The Mother could rest
.

The silence was profound when they finished. Each person standing there felt the power of the Mother and the Mother’s Song, more than they ever had. They looked at the paintings again and were more conscious of the animals that seemed to be emerging from the cracks and shadows of the cave, as though the Mother was creating them, giving birth to them, bringing them from the Other World, the spirit world, the Mother’s Great Underworld.

Then they heard a sound that sent a chill through them, the mewling of a lion cub. It changed to the sounds a young lion made when it called for its mother, then to the first attempts of a young male lion trying to roar, and finally the huffing and grunting that led up to a fullblown roar of a male lion claiming his own.

“How does she do that?” the Watcher asked. “It sounds like a lion going through stages of growth. How does she know that?”

“She raised a lion, took care of him when he was growing up, and taught him to hunt with her,” Jondalar said, “and roared with him.”

“Did she tell you that?” the Watcher asked, a hint of doubt in her tone.

“Well, yes, sort of. He came back to visit her when I was healing in her valley, but he didn’t like seeing me there, and attacked. Ayla stepped in front of me and he twisted himself around and stopped cold. Then she rolled around on the ground and hugged him, and got on his back and rode him, like she does Whinney. Except I don’t think he would go where she wanted, only where he wanted to take her. He did bring her back, though. Then, after I asked her, she told me,” Jondalar said.

His story was straightforward enough to be convincing. The Watcher just shook her head. “I think we should all light new torches,” she said. “There should be at least one left for each of us, and I have some lamps, too.”

“I think we should wait with the torches until we all get back out of this corridor,” Willamar said.

“Yes, you’re right,” Jonokol said. “Will you hold mine?” he said to the Watcher.

Jonokol, Jondalar, Ayla, and Willamar literally lifted the First up some of the bigger drops, while the Watcher held up the torches to light the way. She threw one that had burned to almost nothing into one of the hearths that were lined up against the walls. When they reached the painted horses, everyone took a new torch. The Watcher stubbed out the ones that were partially burned and put them in her backframe; then they started back the way they had come. No one said much, just looked again at the animals as they passed by. Before they reached the entrance they noticed how much light found its way deeper into the cave.

At the entrance, Jonokol stopped. “Will you take me back into the large area in that other room?”

“Of course,” she said without asking why. She knew.

“I’d like to go with you, Zelandoni of the Nineteenth Cave,” Ayla said.

“I’m glad. I’d like you to. You can hold my torch,” he said with a grin.

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