The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [368]
The tall man covered the distance between them in three strides. He pulled Laramar off Ayla, spun him around, and smashed his fist into the stunned man’s face. Laramar crumpled to the ground, nearly unconscious. He didn’t know who hit him, or even what had happened.
Jondalar jumped on top of him. In a savage, ravaging frenzy of jealousy and outrage, he was hitting Laramar, punching him, hammering him, unable to stop. His voice so tight with frustration, its pitch rose to a squeal, as Jondalar screamed, “He’s making my baby! He’s making my baby!” repeating it over and over again, “He’s making my baby!”
Some men tried to drag him away, but he shook them off. In his maddened fury, his strength was almost superhuman. Several more tried to pull him away, but he was wild; they couldn’t contain him.
Then, as Jondalar pulled back to pound his fist once more into the bloody mass of raw meat unrecognizable as a face, a massive hand grabbed his wrist. Jondalar struggled as he felt himself being pulled away from the unconscious man who was sprawled out on the ground, close to death. He fought to free himself from the two enormous, powerful arms that restrained him, but he couldn’t break loose.
As Danug held him off, Zelandoni cried, “Jondalar! Jondalar! Stop! You’ll kill him!”
He vaguely recognized the familiar voice of the woman he once knew as Zolena, and recalled hitting a young man over her; then his mind went blank. While several of the zelandonia rushed in to attend to Laramar, the burly red-haired giant picked Jondalar up in his arms like a baby and carried him away.
37
Zelandoni gave Ayla one of the tightly woven reed cups that had been specially made for the festival, nearly full of hot tea made of herbs that would be relaxing. She put another cup on a low table, then sat down on the large stool beside Ayla’s stool. They were alone in the large zelandonia dwelling, except for the unconscious man, his face wrapped in soft skins that held healing poultices in place, lying on a nearby bed. Several lamps cast a warm glow of soft light around the injured man, and two more were on a low table that held the tea cups.
“I’ve never seen him like that,” Ayla said. “Why did he do it, Zelandoni?”
“Because you were with Laramar.”
“But it was a Mother Festival. I am Zelandoni now. I’m supposed to share the Mother’s Gift at Festivals that Honor the Mother, aren’t I?” Ayla said.
“Everyone is supposed to Honor the Mother at Her Festivals, and you always have, but never before with anyone except Jondalar,” the large woman said.
“Just because I haven’t done it before with anyone else shouldn’t make any difference. After all, he’s been coupling with Marona,” Ayla said. Zelandoni noticed a touch of defensiveness in her voice.
“Yes, but you weren’t available when he did. You know men often share the Mother’s Gift of Pleasure with other women when their mates are not within easy reach, don’t you?” the One Who Was First asked.
“Yes, of course,” Ayla said, looking down quickly, then taking a sip of her tea.
“Does the thought of Jondalar choosing another woman bother you, Ayla?”
“Well, he never has chosen anyone else. Not as long as I’ve known him,” Ayla said, looking at the woman with earnest concern. “How could I know him so little? I can’t believe what he did. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been there. First he sneaks around with Marona … and I found out he’s been doing it for a long time. Then he … Why Marona?”
“How would you feel if it was someone else?”
Ayla looked down again. “I don’t know.” She looked up at Zelandoni again. “Why didn’t he come to me if he wanted to satisfy his needs? I have never refused him. Never.”
“Maybe that’s why. Maybe he knew you were tired, or deeply involved in something you were learning, and he didn’t want to impose himself on you, when he knew you would not refuse him,” Zelandoni said. “And there were some times when you were required to forgo certain things