The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [151]
“I will take all your thoughts into consideration before I make my decision. But now I want to ask each of you to give me a definite answer,” the leader finally said. The men were sitting in a circle around the fire. They each clenched a fist and held it in front of their chests. A movement up and down would mean an affirmative answer, a lateral movement of the fist, no.
“Grod,” Brun began with his second-in-command, “do you think the girl Ayla should die?”
Grod hesitated. He sympathized with the leader’s dilemma. He had been Brun’s second for many years, he could almost read the leader’s thoughts, and his respect for him had grown with time. But he could see no alternative; he moved his fist up, then down.
“What other choice is there, Brun?” he added.
“Grod says yes. Droog?” Brun asked, turning to the toolmaker.
Droog did not hesitate. He moved his fist across his chest.
“Droog says no. Crug, how about you?”
Crug looked at Brun, then Mog-ur, and finally Broud. He moved his fist up.
“Crug says yes, the girl should die,” Brun confirmed. “Goov?”
The young acolyte responded immediately by drawing his fist across his chest.
“Goov’s opinion is no. Broud?”
Broud moved his fist up before Brun could say his name, and Brun moved on just as quickly. He knew Broud’s answer.
“Yes. Zoug?”
The old sling-master sat up proudly and moved his fist back and forth across his chest with an emphasis that left no doubt.
“Zoug thinks the girl should not die, what do you think, Dorv?”
The hand of the other old man went up, and before he could bring it down, all eyes turned toward Mog-ur.
“Dorv says yes. Mog-ur, what is your opinion?” Brun asked. He had guessed what the others would say, but the leader wasn’t sure about the old magician.
Creb agonized. He knew the Clan traditions. He blamed himself for Ayla’s crime, for giving her too much freedom. He felt guilty about his love for her, afraid it would usurp his reason, afraid he would think of himself before his duty to his clan, and began to move his fist up. Logically he decided she must die. But before he could start the movement, his fist jerked to the side, as though someone had grabbed it and moved it for him. He could not bring himself to condemn her, though he would do what he must, once the decision was made. He had no choice. The choice was Brun’s and only Brun’s.
“The opinions are evenly divided,” the leader announced. “The decision was never anything but mine anyway, I only wanted to know how you felt. I will need some time to think about what was said today. Mog-ur says we will have a ceremony tonight. That’s good. I will need the help of the spirits, and we all may need their protection. You will know my decision in the morning. She will know then, too. Go now and prepare for the ceremony.”
Brun remained by the fire alone after the men left. Clouds scudded across the sky, driven by brisk winds, and dropped intermittent icy showers as they passed, but Brun was as oblivious to the rain as he was to the last dying embers sputtering in the fireplace. It was nearing dark when he finally hauled himself up and plodded slowly back to the cave. He saw Ayla still sitting where he had seen her when they left in the morning. She expects the worst, he said to himself. What else can she expect?
16
The clan gathered outside the cave early. A chill east wind was blowing, hinting of icier blasts, but the sky was clear and the morning sun just above the ridge, bright, in contrast to the somber mood. They avoided each other’s eyes; arms hung limp with the absence of conversation as they shuffled to their places to learn the fate of the strange girl who was no stranger to them.
Uba could feel her mother shaking and her hand gripped so hard it hurt. The child knew it was more than the wind that made her