The clan of the cave bear_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [276]
“Where’s Ayla?” Uba cried with an edge of panic.
“Here,” Ayla answered, walking back down the slope, forgetting for the moment why she was there.
“Mama!” Durc cried, breaking loose of Uba’s protective grip and running to her. Ayla broke into a run, swooped him up, hugged him tightly, and carried him back.
“Uba, are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, nothing serious.”
“Where’s Creb?” Then Ayla remembered. She shoved Durc at Uba and ran back up the slope.
“Ayla! Where are you going? Don’t go into the cave! There may be aftershocks.”
Ayla didn’t see the warning, nor would she have heeded it. She ran into the cave and straight for Creb’s hearth. Stones and gravel cascaded spasmodically, making small piles on the ground. Except for a few rocks and a layer of dust, their place in the cave was undamaged, but Creb was not there. Ayla checked every hearth. Some were totally demolished, but most had some salvageable items. Creb was not at any of the hearths. She hesitated at the small opening that led to the place of the spirits, then started in, but it was too dark to see. She’d need a torch. She decided to check the rest of the cave first.
A spattering of gravel fell on her and she jumped to the side. A jagged boulder crashed to the ground, grazing her arm. She searched the walls, then crisscrossed the room, poking into deep shadows behind storage containers and large boulders in the unlit cave. She was ready to get a torch, then decided to try one last place.
She found Creb beside Iza’s burial cairn. He was lying on his deformed side with his legs pulled up, almost as if they had been tied into a fetal position. The large, magnificent skull that had protected his powerful brain, protected it no longer. The heavy rock that crushed it had rolled a few feet away. He had died instantly. She knelt down beside his body and her tears began to flow.
“Creb, oh, Creb. Why did you go into the cave?” she motioned. She rocked back and forth on her knees, crying out his name. Then, for some inexplicable reason, she stood up and began to make the motions she had seen him make over Iza, the burial rite. Silent tears clouded her vision as the tall blonde woman, alone in a rock-littered cave, flowed through the ancient, symbolic movements with a grace and subtlety as accomplished as those of the great holy man himself. Many of the motions she did not understand. She never would. It was her final offering to the only father she knew.
“He’s dead,” Ayla gestured to the faces staring at her as she emerged from the cave.
Broud stared at her along with the rest, then a great fear gripped him. It was she who had found the cave, she whom the spirits favored. And after he cursed her, they shook the earth and destroyed the cave she found. Were they angry at him for wanting her cursed? Did they destroy the cave she had found because they were angry at him? What if the rest of the clan thought he had brought this calamity down on them? In the deepest recesses of his superstitious soul, he quavered before the ill omen and feared the anger of the spirits he was sure he had unleashed. Then, in an impulsive flash of twisted reasoning, he thought if he blamed her before anyone could blame him, no one could say it was his fault, and the spirits would turn on her.
“She did it! It’s her fault!” Broud gestured suddenly. “She’s the one who made the spirits angry. She’s the one who flouted the traditions. You all saw her. She was insolent, she was disrespectful to the leader. She should be cursed. Then the spirits will be happy again. Then they will know how we honor them. Then they will lead us to a new cave, even better, even luckier. They will. I know they will. Curse her, Goov! Now, do it now! Curse her! Curse her!”
Every head turned to Brun. He stared