The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [327]
“Nearly everyone else wants to see a change,” S’Armuna said.
“But who will help?” Ayla said.
“I think we can count on Cavoa, my acolyte.”
“But she’s pregnant,” Jondalar said.
“All the more reason,” the woman said. “All the signs indicate that she will have a boy. She will fight for the life of her baby, as well as her own. Even if she has a girl, the chances are Attaroa won’t let her live long once the baby is weaned, and Cavoa knows it.”
“What about the woman who spoke out today?” Ayla said.
“That was Esadoa, Cavoa’s mother. I’m sure you can count on her, but she blames me as much as Attaroa for the death of her son.”
“I remember her at the funeral,” Jondalar said. “She threw something in the grave that made Attaroa angry.”
“Yes, some tools for the next world. Attaroa had forbidden anyone to give them anything that might help them in the world of the spirits.”
“I think you stood up to her.”
S’Armuna shrugged as if to pass it off. “I told her once the tools were given, they could not be taken back. Not even she dared to retrieve them.”
Jondalar nodded. “I’m sure all the men in the Holding would help,” he said.
“Of course, but first we have to get them out,” S’Armuna said. “The guards are being especially watchful. I don’t think anyone could even sneak in right now. In a few days, perhaps. That will give us time to talk to the women quietly. When we know how many we can count on, then we can work out a plan to overpower Attaroa and the Wolf Women. We’re going to have to fight them, I’m afraid. That’s the only way we’ll get the men out of the Holding.”
“I think you’re right,” Jondalar said, looking grim.
Ayla shook her head in sorrow at the thought. There had been so much pain in this Camp already that the idea of fighting, of causing more trouble and pain, was distressing. She wished there was some other way.
“You said you gave Attaroa something to make the men sleep. Couldn’t you give something to Attaroa and her Wolf Women to make them sleep?” Ayla asked.
“Attaroa is wary. She will not eat or drink anything that isn’t first tasted by someone else. That was what Doban did once. Now, I think she’ll just pick out one of the other children,” S’Armuna said, glancing outside. “It’s almost dark. If you are ready, I think it’s time for the feast to begin.”
Ayla and Jondalar each picked up one of the baskets from the inner chamber; then the One Who Served closed it up again. Once outside, they could see that a big bonfire had been started in front of Attaroa’s earthlodge.
“I wondered if she was going to invite you in, but it appears the feast is going to be eaten outside, in spite of the cold,” S’Armuna said.
As they approached, bearing their baskets, Attaroa turned to face them. “Since you wanted to share this feast with the men, it seemed right to eat out here, so you can watch them,” she said. S’Armuna translated, although Ayla understood the woman perfectly, and even Jondalar knew enough of their language to get the meaning of her words.
“But it is hard to see them in the dark. It would help if you built another fire on their side,” Ayla said.
Attaroa paused a moment, then laughed, but she made no move to comply with the request.
The feast seemed to be an extravagant affair with many dishes, but the food was primarily lean meat with hardly any fat, very few vegetables or grains or filling starchy roots, and no dried fruit or hint of sweetness, not even from the inner bark of a tree. There was some of the lightly fermented brew made from birch sap, but Ayla decided she would not drink it, and she was pleased to see a woman coming around and pouring hot herb tea into cups for those who wanted it. She’d had experience with Talut’s brew and knew it could cloud her judgment; tonight she wanted all her wits about her.
All in all, it was a rather meager feast, Ayla thought, although the people of the Camp would not have agreed. The food was more like the kind that might be left at the end of the season, not what should