The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [189]
The baby nuzzled toward the warmth of his mother as he lay in Ayla’s arms, already looking to suck as though he hadn’t had enough before his birth. She helped him to her breast.
“You shouldn’t, Ayla,” Iza said gently. “You should not add to his life when it must soon be taken away. It will only make it harder for you to get rid of him.”
“Get rid of him?” Ayla looked stricken. “How can I get rid of him? He’s my baby, my son.”
“You have no choice, Ayla. It’s the way. A mother must always dispose of a deformed child she has brought into the world. It’s best to do it as soon as possible, before Brun commands it.”
“But Creb was deformed. He was allowed to live,” Ayla protested.
“His mother’s mate was the leader of the clan; he allowed it. You have no mate, Ayla, no man to speak for your son. I told you in the beginning your child could be unlucky if you gave birth before you were mated. Doesn’t his deformity prove it, Ayla? Why let a child live that will have nothing but bad luck all his life? It’s better to get it over now,” Iza reasoned.
Reluctantly, Ayla pulled her son away from her breast, tears overflowing her eyes. “Oh, Iza,” she cried, “I wanted a baby so much, a baby of my own like other women. I never thought I’d have one. I was so happy. I didn’t care if I was sick, I just wanted my own baby. It was so hard, I didn’t think he’d ever come, but when you said he’d die, I had to push. If he has to die anyway, why was it so hard? Mother, I want my baby, don’t make me get rid of him.”
“I know it’s not easy, Ayla, but it must be done.” Iza’s heart ached for her. The baby was searching for the breast so abruptly withheld, for the security and to satisfy his need to suck. She had no milk for him yet, that would take a day or so; there was only the thick, milky fluid that could impart to the infant her own immunity to diseases for the first few months of his life. He started whimpering and soon let go with a lusty howl, flailing his arms and kicking off the cover. His cry filled the cave with the demanding insistence of an angry, red-faced infant. Ayla couldn’t stand it. She put him back to her breast.
“I just can’t do it,” she gestured. “I won’t do it! My son is alive. He’s breathing. He might be deformed, but he’s strong. Did you hear him cry? Did you ever hear a baby cry like that? Did you see him kick? Look how he sucks! I want him, Iza, I want him and I’m going to keep him. I’ll leave before I’ll kill him. I can hunt. I can find food. I’ll take care of him myself!”
Iza paled. “Ayla, you can’t mean that. Where would you go? You’re too weak, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“I don’t know, mother. Somewhere. Anywhere. But I won’t give him up.” Ayla was adamant, determined. Iza had no doubt the young mother meant what she said. But she was too weak to go anyplace; she’d die herself if she tried to save the baby. Iza was appalled to think Ayla would flaunt the customs of the Clan, but Iza was sure she would.
“Ayla, don’t talk like that,” Iza pleaded. “Give him to me. If you can’t, I’ll do it for you. I’ll tell Brun you are too weak; that’s reason enough.” The woman reached for the infant. “Let me take him. Once he’s gone, it will be easier to forget him.”
“No! No, Iza,” Ayla shook her head forcefully, clinging tighter to the bundle in her arms. She huddled over him, protecting him with her body, moving only one hand to speak with Creb’s abbreviated symbols. “I’m going to keep him. Somehow, some way, even if I have to leave, I am going to keep my baby.”
Uba was watching the two women, ignored by them both. She had seen Ayla’s bone-wrenching delivery, as she had seen other women give birth before. No secrets of life or death were withheld from children; they shared the fate of the clan as much as their elders. Uba loved the golden-haired girl who was playmate