The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [21]
“Maybe because it’s closer to the earth. Some people like stone for that reason.”
As he spoke, Jondalar unconsciously reached into the pouch attached to his belt and felt for the small stone figurine of an obese female. He felt the familiar huge breasts, her large protruding stomach, and her more than ample buttocks and thighs. The arms and legs were insignificant, it was the Mother aspects that were important, and the limbs on the stone figure were only suggested. The head was a knob with a suggestion of hair that carried across the face, with no features.
No one could look at the awesome face of Doni, the Great Earth Mother, Ancient Ancestress, First Mother, Creator and Sustainer of all life, She who blessed all women with Her power to create and bring forth life. And none of the small images of Her that carried Her Spirit, the donii, ever dared to suggest Her face. Even when She revealed Herself in dreams, Her face was usually unclear, though men often saw Her with a young and nubile body. Some women claimed they could take Her spirit form and fly like the wind to bring luck or wreak vengeance, and Her vengeance could be great.
If She was angered or dishonored, She was capable of many fearful deeds, but the most threatening was to withhold Her wondrous Gift of Pleasure that came when a woman chose to open herself to a man. The Great Mother and, it was claimed, some of Those Who Served Her could give a man the power to share Her Gift with as many women as he desired as often as he wished, or make him shrivel up so that he could bring Pleasure to none, nor find any himself.
Jondalar absentmindedly caressed the pendulous stone breasts of the donii in his pouch, wishing for luck as he thought about their Journey. It was true that some never returned, but that was part of the adventure. Then Thonolan asked Laduni a question that snapped him back to attention.
“What do you know about the flatheads around here? We ran into a pack a few days ago. I was sure we were going to end our Journey right there.” Suddenly Thonolan had everyone’s attention.
“What happened?” Laduni asked, tension in his voice. Thonolan related the incident they had had with the flatheads.
“Charoli!” Laduni spat.
“Who is Charoli?” Jondalar asked.
“A young man from Tomasi’s Cave, and the instigator of a gang of ruffians who have taken it into their heads to make sport of the flatheads. We never had any trouble with them. They stayed on their side of the river; we stayed on ours. If we did cross over, they kept out of the way, unless we stayed too long. Then all they did was make it obvious they were watching. That was enough. It makes you nervous to have a bunch of flatheads staring at you.”
“That’s for sure!” Thonolan said. “But what do you mean, make sport of the flatheads? I wouldn’t invite trouble from them.”
“It all started as high spirits. One would dare the other to run up and touch a flathead. They can be pretty fierce if you annoy them. Then the young men started ganging up on any flathead they found alone—circle around and tease him, try to get him to chase after them. Flatheads have a lot of wind, but they have short legs. A man can usually outrun one, but he’d better keep going. I’m not sure how it started, but next Charoli’s gang were beating up on them I suspect one of those flatheads they were teasing caught someone, and the rest jumped in to defend their friend. Anyway, they started making a practice of it, but even with several against one flathead, they didn’t get away without some good bruises.”
“I can believe that,” Thonolan said.
“What they did next was even worse,” Filonia added.
“Filonia! It’s disgusting! I won’t have you talking about it!” Laduni said, and his anger was real
“What did they do?” Jondalar asked. “If we’re going to be traveling through flathead