The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [116]
The taste, new to Jondalar, was one he immediately enjoyed and found a wonderful complement to the fish. Baskets of small edibles were passed around to accompany the dish. When Tholie sat down, he asked her what they were.
“Beechnuts, collected last fall,” she said, and went on to explain in detail how they were stripped of their leathery outer skins with sharp little flint blades, then carefully roasted by shaking them with hot coals in flat platter-shaped baskets kept moving to prevent scorching, and finally rolled in sea salt.
“Tholie brought the salt,” Jetamio said. “It was part of her bride gift.”
“Many Mamutoi live near sea, Tholie?” Jondalar asked.
“No, our Camp was one of the closest to Beran Sea. Most Mamutoi live farther north. The Mamutoi are mammoth hunters,” she said with pride. “We traveled north every year for the hunts.”
“How you mate Mamutoi women?” the blond Zelandonii asked Markeno.
“I kidnapped her,” he replied, with a wink at the plump young woman.
Tholie smiled. “It’s true,” she said. “Of course, it was all arranged.”
“We met when I went along on a trading expedition to the east. We traveled all the way to the delta of the Mother River. It was my first trip. I didn’t care if she was Sharamudoi or Mamutoi, I wouldn’t come back without her.”
Markeno and Tholie told about the difficulties their desire to mate had caused. It had taken long negotiations to work out the arrangements, and then he’d had to “kidnap” her to get around certain customs. She was more than willing; the mating could not have taken place without her consent. But there were precedents. Though not common, similar matings had occurred before.
Populations of humans were sparse and so widely spaced that they seldom infringed on each other’s territories, which tended to make the infrequent contact with the occasional stranger a novelty. If a little wary at first, people were usually not hostile, and it wasn’t uncommon to be welcomed. Most hunting peoples were accustomed to traveling long distances, often following migratory herds with seasonal regularity, and many had long traditions of individual Journeys.
Frictions developed more often from familiarity. Hostilities tended to be intramural—confined within the community—if they existed at all. Hot tempers were kept in check by codes of behavior, and most often settled by ritualized customs—although these customs were not calcified. The Sharamudoi and the Mamutoi were on good trading terms, and there were similarities in customs and languages. To the former, the Great Earth Mother was Mudo, to the latter, She was Mut, but She was still the Godhead, Original Ancestor, and First Mother.
The Mamutoi were a people with a strong self-image, which came through as open and friendly. As a group, they feared no one—they were, after all, the mammoth hunters. They were brash, confident, a bit ingenuous, and convinced that everyone saw them on their own terms. Though the discussions had seemed interminable to Markeno, it had not been an insurmountable problem to arrange the mating.
Tholie herself was typical of her people: open, friendly, confident that everyone liked her. In truth, few people could resist her forthright ebullience. No one even took offense when she asked the most personal questions, since it was obvious there was no malicious intent. She was just interested and saw no reason to curb her curiosity.
A girl approached them carrying an infant, “Shamio woke up, Tholie. I think she’s hungry.”
The mother nodded her thanks and put the baby to her breast, with hardly a break in the conversation or feasting. Other small edibles were passed: