The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [325]
But as much as he loved her, Jondalar was a man with strong drives. It was difficult for him to ignore them. It was especially true when there were no societal constraints against it, and someone as intimately familiar with him as Marona was using every faculty she possessed to encourage him. It was too easy to fall into the habit of going to her rather than bothering Ayla when she was busy.
Zelandoni knew Jondalar hadn’t mentioned anything about his ongoing liaison to Ayla, and instinctively, others who cared about them had tried to shield her. They hoped Ayla would not find out, but the Donier knew if he continued, it was a vain hope. He should have known it, too.
In spite of how well she had learned the ways of the Zelandonii and seemed to fit in, Ayla had not been born to them. Their ways were not natural to her. Zelandoni almost wished the Summer Meeting were over. She would like to be able to watch the young woman, make sure she was all right, but the last part of the Summer Meeting was a very busy time for the One Who Was First. She observed the young woman, trying to discern the extent of her feelings over her discovery of Jondalar’s encounters with Marona, and what effects it would have.
At Proleva’s urging, Ayla accepted a plate of food, but she did little more than push it around. She dumped the food and cleaned the plate, then returned it. “I wish Jonayla would come back; do you know how long she’ll be gone?” Ayla said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when she came.”
“You could go to Levela’s and get her,” Proleva said. “Levela would love it if you came to visit. I didn’t see where Jondalar went. He may be there, too.”
“I’m really tired,” Ayla said. “I don’t think I’d be very good company. I’m going to bed early, but will you send Jonayla in when she comes?”
“Are you feeling all right, Ayla?” Proleva asked, finding it hard to believe that she would just go to bed. She had been trying to find Jondalar all day, and now she wouldn’t even walk a little ways to look for him.
“I’m fine. I’m just tired,” Ayla said, heading for one of the large circular dwellings that ringed the central fireplace.
A wall of sturdy vertical panels made of overlapped cattail leaves, which shed rain, was attached to the outside of a circle of poles sunk into the ground. A second interior wall of panels woven out of flattened bulrush stems was attached to the inside of the poles, leaving an air space between for extra insulation to make it cooler on hot days and, with a fire inside, warmer on cool nights. The roof was a thick thatch of phragmite reeds, sloping down from a center pole, supported by a circular frame of slender alder poles lashed together. The smoke escaped through a hole near the center.
The construction provided a fairly large enclosed space that could be left open or divided into smaller areas with movable interior panels. Sleeping rolls were spread out on mats made of bulrushes, tall phragmite reeds, cattail leaves, and grasses around a central fireplace. Ayla partially undressed and crawled into her sleeping roll, but was far from ready to sleep. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was the scene of Jondalar with Marona, and her mind whirled with the implications.
Ayla knew that among the Zelandoni jealousy was not condoned, though she was not as aware that behavior designed to provoke it was even less acceptable. People recognized that jealousy existed and fully understood its cause, and more important, its often damaging effects. But in a harsh land often overwhelmed by long and bitter glacial winters, survival depended on mutual cooperation and assistance. The unwritten strictures against any behavior that could undermine the necessary goodwill required to maintain that unanimity and understanding were strongly enforced by social customs.
In such adverse conditions, children were especially at risk. Many died young, and while the community in general was important to their well-being, a close, caring family was considered essential. Though most commonly