The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [113]
“Not only size. For the base and the planks, you want tall trees with straight trunks.” Carlono led the tall Zelandonii to a grove of close-packed trees. “In dense woods, trees grow up looking for the sun …”
“Jondalar!” The older brother looked up with surprise at Thonolan’s voice. He was standing with several others around a huge oak, surrounded by other tall straight trees whose branches started far up the stem. “Am I glad to see you! Your little brother could use your help. Do you know I can’t get mated until a new boat is built, and this,” he nodded expressively at the tall tree, “has to be cut down for the ‘strakes,’ whatever they are. Look at the size of that mammoth! I didn’t know trees grew that big—it will take forever to cut it down. Big Brother, I’ll be an old man before I’m a mated one.”
Jondalar smiled and shook his head. “Strakes are the planks that make the sides of the bigger boats. If you’re going to be Sharamudoi, you ought to know about them.”
“I’m going to be Shamudoi I’ll leave the boats to the Ramudoi. Hunting chamois is something I understand. I’ve hunted ibex and mouflon in high meadows before. Are you going to help? We need all the muscle we can get.”
“If I don’t want poor Jetamio to wait until you’re an old man, I guess I’ll have to. And besides, it will be interesting to see how it’s done,” Jondalar said, then turned to Carlono and added in the Sharamudoi language, “Help Jondalar chop tree. Talk more later?”
Carlono smiled in agreement, then stood back to watch the first chips of bark cut away. But he didn’t stay long. It would take most of the day before the forest giant fell, and before it did, everyone would gather around.
Starting high up and working down at a steep angle that was met by lower horizontal cuts, small chips were detached. The stone axes did not bite deep. The blade end needed a certain thickness for strength and couldn’t penetrate very far into the wood. As they worked their way toward the center of the huge tree, it appeared more gnawed than cut, but each chip that fell away dug deeper into the heart of the ancient giant.
The day was drawing to a close when Thonolan was given an axe. With everyone who had been working gathered nearby, he made a few final swings, then jumped back when he heard a crack and saw the massive trunk sway. Toppling slowly at first, the tall oak gained momentum as it fell. Tearing limbs off neighboring giants and taking smaller ones with it, the mammoth old tree, snapping and cracking its resistance, thundered to the ground. It bounced, then shivered and lay still.
Silence pervaded the forest; as though in profound reverence, even the birds were still. The majestic old oak had been struck down, sundered from its living roots, its stump a raw scar in the muted earth shades of the woods. Then, with quiet dignity, Dolando knelt beside the ragged stump and dug a small hole with his bare hand. He dropped an acorn in it.
“May the Blessed Mudo accept our offering and bring to life another tree,” he said, then covered the seed and poured a cup of water over it.
The sun was settling into a hazy horizon and making golden streamers of the clouds when they started up the long trail to the high shelf. Before they reached the ancient embayment, the colors shifted through the spectrum of golds and bronzes, then reds to a deep mauve. When they rounded the jutting wall, Jondalar was stopped by the untouchable beauty of the panorama spread out before him. He took a few steps along the edge, too preoccupied with the view to notice the precipitous drop for once. The Great Mother River, calm and full, mirrored the vibrant sky and darkened shadows of the rounded mountains across, her oily smooth surface alive with the movement of her deep current.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Jondalar turned at the voice and smiled at a woman who had moved up beside him. “Yes. Beautiful, Serenio.”
“Big feast tonight to celebrate. For Jetamio and Thonolan. They’re waiting—you should come.”
She turned to go, but he took her hand, held her there, and watched