The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [227]
Brun waited until the men were through congratulating him, then approached the young man, looking forward to Broud’s joy when he found out the great honor he was about to receive. It would be a fitting reward for the fine race he had run. It was the greatest gift he could give to the son of his mate.
“Brun!” Broud saw the leader and spoke first. “Why did you have to delay the race? I almost lost. I could have beat him easily if you hadn’t given him time to rest. Don’t you care if our clan is first?” he motioned petulantly. “Or is it that you know you’ll be too old to be leader next Gathering? If I’m going to be the leader, the least you could do is let me start as first, like you did.”
Brun stepped back, stunned by Broud’s vituperative attack. He struggled to control his conflicting emotions. You don’t understand, Brun thought, I wonder if you will ever understand? This clan is first; if I can help it, it will stay first. But what will happen when you become leader, Broud? How long will this clan be first then? The pride left his eyes, and a great sorrow overwhelmed him, but Brun controlled that, too. Perhaps he’s just too young, he rationalized, maybe he just needs a little more time, a little more experience. Have I ever really explained? Brun tried to forget that no one had to explain to him.
“Broud, if Gorn had been tired, would your win have been as good? What if the other clans doubted that you could beat him if he hadn’t been tired? This way they know for sure that you won, and so do you. You did well, son of my mate,” Brun motioned gently. “You ran a good race.”
In spite of his bitterness, Broud still respected this man more than anyone he ever knew, and he could not help but respond. At that moment Broud felt, as he had on his first manhood hunt, that he would give anything for such praise from Brun.
“I didn’t think about that, Brun. You’re right, this way everyone knows I won, they know I’m better than Gorn.”
“With this race, and Droog winning the toolmaking competition, if our mammoth hunt wins tonight, we’re sure to come out first,” Crug said enthusiastically. “And you will be one of those chosen for the Bear Ceremony, Broud.”
More men crowded around Broud to congratulate him as he walked back to the cave. Brun watched him go and then saw Gorn walking back, too, surrounded by Norg’s clan. An older man clapped his shoulder in a gesture of encouragement.
Norg’s second has a right to be proud of the son of his mate, Brun thought. Broud may have won the race, but I’m not sure he’s the better man. Brun had only controlled his sorrow, not eliminated it, and though he struggled to bury it deeper, the pain would not die. Broud was still the son of his mate, the child of his heart.
“The men of Norg’s clan are brave hunters,” Droog admitted. “It was a good plan, digging a hole in the path the rhinoceros takes to his drinking place and covering it with brush to hide it. Maybe we could try it sometime. It took courage to drive him back when he bolted; rhinos can be more fierce than mammoths, and much more unpredictable. Norg’s hunters told it well, too.”
“But it still wasn’t as good as our mammoth hunt. Everyone agreed,” Crug said. “Gorn deserved to be one of the chosen, though. Almost every contest was between Broud and Gorn. For a while I was afraid we would not win the competitions this year. Norg’s clan is a very close second. What do you think of the third choice, Grod?”
“Voord did well, but I would have chosen Nouz,” Grod replied. “I think Brun preferred Nouz, too.”
“It was a hard choice, but I think Voord deserved it,” Droog commented.
“We won’t be seeing much of Goov until after the festival,” Crug said. “Now that the competitions are over, the acolytes will be spending all their time with the mog-urs. I hope the women don’t think that just because Broud and Goov won’t be eating with us tonight, they don’t have to make as much. I’m going to eat well; there won’t be anything else until the feast tomorrow.”
“I don’t think I’d want