The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [243]
He hates me! He can’t stand to be near me, she thought, stifling a sob. I wish he’d go away, I wish he’d just go away.
“I know it doesn’t do any good, but I have to say it. I’m sorry, Ayla. I’m more sorry than I can say. You didn’t deserve what I did. You don’t have to answer me, but I have to talk to you. You have always been honest with me—it’s time for me to be straightforward with you for a change.
“I’ve been thinking about it since you rode off. I don’t know why I did … what I did, but I want to try to explain. After that lion attacked and I woke up here, I didn’t know where I was, and I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t talk to me. You were a mystery. Why were you here alone? I began to imagine a story about you, that you were a zelandoni testing yourself, a sacred woman answering a call to Serve the Mother. When you didn’t respond to my gross attempts to share Pleasures with you, I thought you were forgoing them as part of your testing. I thought the Clan was a strange group of zelandonii you lived with.”
Ayla had stopped shaking and was listening, but not moving.
“I was only thinking of myself, Ayla.” He hunkered down. “I’m not sure if you’ll believe this, but I, ahhh … I’ve been considered a … an attractive man. Most women have … wanted my attention. I had my choice. I thought you were rejecting me. I’m not used to it, and it hurt my pride, but I wouldn’t admit it. I think that’s why I made up that story about you, so I could give myself a reason why you didn’t seem to want me.
“If I’d been paying attention, I would have known you weren’t an experienced woman rejecting me, but more like a young woman before her First Rites—unsure, and a little scared, and wanting to please. If anyone ought to recognize that, I should—I’ve had … never mind. That doesn’t matter.”
Ayla had let the covers fall back, listening so intensely that she could hear her heart pounding in her ears.
“All I could see was Ayla the woman. And, believe me, you don’t look like a girl. I thought you were teasing me when you talked of yourself as big and ugly. You weren’t, were you? You really think you are. Maybe to fl … the people who raised you, you were too tall, and different, but Ayla, you need to know, you are not big and ugly. You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She had rolled over and was sitting up. “Beautiful? Me?” she said. Then with a stab of disbelief, she dove back into the furs, afraid of being hurt again. “You’re making fun of me.
He reached over to touch her, then hesitated and pulled his hand back. “I can’t blame you for not believing me. Not after … today. Maybe I should face up to that, and try to explain.
“It’s hard to imagine what you have lived through, orphaned and raised by … people so different. To have a child, and have him taken from you. Made to leave the only home you knew to face a strange world, and to live here alone. That’s more testing than any holy woman would dream of putting herself through. Not many would have survived. You are not only beautiful, Ayla, you’re strong. Inside you’re strong. But you may have to be stronger.
“You need to know how people feel about the ones you call Clan. I thought the same way—people think of them as animals …”
“They are not animals!”
“But I didn’t know, Ayla. Some people hate your Clan. I don’t know why. When I think about it, animals—real animals that are hunted—aren’t hated. Maybe, in their hearts, people know that flatheads—they are called that too, Ayla—are human. But they’re so different. It’s frightening, or maybe threatening. Yet, some men will force flathead women to—I can’t say share Pleasures. That is hardly the word. Maybe your way—‘relieve their needs.’ I can’t understand why, when they talk about them as animals. I don’t know if they are animals, if the spirits can mix and children are born …”
“Are you sure it’s spirits?” she asked. He seemed so certain, she wondered if he might be right.
“Whatever it is, you aren’t the only one, Ayla, to have a child that is a mixture of