The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [289]
“How many children have been born?” he asked, out of curiosity.
“Not many, but some, and where there are some, there can be more.”
“Have they all been girls?” he asked then.
“The men are still too close. It confuses the Mother. Soon enough all the men will be gone; then we will see how many boy babies are born,” Attaroa said.
“Or how many babies are born at all,” Jondalar said. “The Great Earth Mother made both women and men, and like Her, women are blessed to give birth to both male and female, but it is the Mother Who decides which man’s spirit is mingled with the woman’s. It is always a man’s spirit. Do you really think you can alter what She has ordained?”
“Don’t try to tell me what the Mother will do! You are not a woman, Zelandonii,” she said contemptuously. “You just don’t like to be told how worthless you are, or perhaps you don’t want to give up your Pleasures. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Suddenly Attaroa changed her tone, affecting a purr of attraction. “Do you want Pleasures, Zelandonii? If you will not fight me, what will you do to gain your freedom? Ah, I know! Pleasures. For such a strong, handsome man, Attaroa might be willing to give you Pleasures. But can you give Attaroa Pleasures?”
S’Armuna’s change to speaking about the woman, rather than as her, made him suddenly aware that all the words he had heard had been translated. It was one thing to speak as the voice of Attaroa the head-woman, it was quite another to speak as the voice of Attaroa the woman. S’Armuna could translate the words; she just couldn’t take on the intimate persona of the woman. As S’Armuna continued to translate, Jondalar heard both of them.
“So tall, so fair, so perfect, he could be the mate of the Mother Herself. Look, he is even taller than Attaroa, and not many men are. You have given many women Pleasure, haven’t you? One smile from the big, tall, handsome man with his blue, blue eyes and women clamor to climb into his furs. Do you Pleasure them all, Zelandonii man?”
Jondalar refused to answer. Yes, there was once a time when he enjoyed Pleasuring many women, but now he only wanted Ayla. A wrenching pain of grief threatened to overcome him. What would he do without her? Did it matter if he lived or died?
“Come, Zelandonii, if you give Attaroa great pleasure, you can have your freedom. Attaroa knows you can do it.” The tall, attractive head-woman walked seductively toward him. “See? Attaroa will give herself to you. Show everyone how a strong man gives a woman Pleasures. Share the Gift of Muna, the Great Earth Mother, with Attaroa, Jondalar of the Zelandonii.”
Attaroa put her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. Jondalar did not respond. She tried to kiss him, but he was too tall for her, and he would not bend down. She was not used to a man who was taller; it wasn’t often that she had to reach up to a man, especially one she could not bend. It made her feel foolish and flamed her anger.
“Zelandonii! I am willing to couple with you, and give you a chance for your freedom!”
“I won’t share the Mother’s Gift of Pleasures under these circumstances,” Jondalar said. His quiet, controlled voice belied his great anger, but did not hide it. How did she dare to insult the Mother like that? “The Gift is sacred, meant to be shared with willingness and joy. Coupling like this would be contemptuous of the Mother. It would defile Her Gift and anger Her just as much as taking a woman against her will. I choose the woman I want to couple with, and I have no desire to share Her Gift with you, Attaroa.”
Jondalar might have responded to Attaroa’s invitation, but he knew it was not genuine. He was an exciting, handsome man to most women. He had gained skill at pleasing them, and experience in the ways of mutual attraction and invitation. For all her sinuous walking, there was no warmth to Attaroa, and