CIRCLES OF STONE (THE MOTHER PEOPLE SERIES) (40 page)

Lotan came to her
and shyly handed her a statue he had just finished.  It was the best he
had ever made.  Polished to a high sheen, its dark wood seemed to pull in
the last rays of the sun and reflect them back into Zena's body.  She felt
the warmth go into her, easing the tightness in her belly. 

"I thank you,
Lotan.  It is beautiful.  Already, I feel the Mother in this
one."  

Zena regarded the
small figure gravely.  Like the others, its belly and breasts were full
and rounded, but it had a larger head, and its face had expression, as if it
were aware that it was more than a wooden statue.  Zena hugged it close to
her heart and went to rest for a moment on the bed of fragrant grasses the
other women had prepared.  She had intended to get up again and resume her
patient pacing, but the infant did not let her.  As soon as she lay down,
she felt its head between her legs.

The moon slid out
from behind the trees.  Zena smiled in welcome.  Once, she remembered,
the moon had made her uneasy.  Now it gave her comfort, and she looked to
it for guidance.  The moon marked the passage of the seasons, gave order
to their lives.  It told them when the rains would come, and the dryness,
when an infant was ready to emerge from its mother's womb, even helped to pull
it forth. 

"Pull",
she said to the moon.  "Pull while I push, so that the infant may be
born."

She raised herself
to a crouch and almost fell as the next contraction rocked her body.  Toro
and Nyta grasped her shoulders to steady her.  Now the spasms came so fast
and strong she had to gasp to breathe.  Four more times, they tightened
her belly.  Then, without volition, Zena began to push down with all her
strength.

"The little
one comes fast," she heard Nyta say, and almost before the words were out
of her mouth, Zena felt the baby slide out.  Nyta reached down to catch
it.

"Very
fast," she amended, examining it carefully.  Already, the child was
squalling lustily.

"It is a male
child," she said, handing the infant to Zena.  "A good, strong
one."  Her eyes clouded as she thought of the maimed little creature
she had borne, but she brightened quickly.  A new baby always delighted
Nyta.

Zena cradled her
tiny son, feeling blessed.  The infant was strong, and the birth had been
easy, for like Kalar, she had wide hips and a big, strong body.  As soon
as she could get up, she would go to the alcove where Lett's figure stood, and
thank the Mother.  Perhaps she would place the statue Lotan had made
beside it, as a special gift of thanks.

She tickled the
baby's cheek with her finger and laughed, as Cere had once laughed, at the
prompt response.  His tiny head turned immediately toward her finger and
his mouth pursed, ready to suck.  She placed him at her breast.  He
nursed for a moment, then fell asleep.  He, too, had worked hard during
the birth.

She would call him
Kalet, she decided.  The first sound would remind her of Kalar, the second
of Lett.  When others were born, as she was certain they would be, she
would name them in similar ways.  They would have their own names, but
still remind her of the ones she loved who had returned to the Mother. 

Zena regained her
strength quickly.  Within a week, she was able to gather food with the
others, and by the time the moon was full again, she felt completely normal, at
peace with the world.

Her peace was
shattered abruptly the first time the baby opened his eyes fully and stared up
at her. She had noticed the paleness of his eyes before and had told herself
the color was a trick of light.  This time she knew it was not so. 
His eyes were exactly like Lotan's, nut-brown and flecked with gold.

A stillness came
over Zena.  For a long time, she could not move.  Shivers of fear ran
up her spine and lodged in her heart.  She could not understand why
Kalet's unusual eyes should bring such terror, but she was wise enough now not
to question the unexpected response.  The Mother had not given her fear
without a reason.  When She was ready, She would divulge its purpose.

Lotan came to admire
the baby.  For a split second, Zena thought to mention his eyes, but her
mouth closed so quickly, so tightly, that she felt as if a hand had been placed
against her lips. A terrible feeling of wrongness invaded her, as if she had
been about to commit an act that would harm them all.  Disturbed by these
strange reactions, she handed Kalet to Sima, who loved to hold him, and went to
sit in the circle of stones.  Perhaps there, an explanation would
emerge.  But for the first time in her life, Zena found no peace in the
blessed place.  There was only the feeling of wrongness, the sense that
some tragedy would overtake them unless she prevented it, only she did not know
what was wrong, or what she should do. 

Too restless to
sit still, she wandered aimlessly away from the circle of stones.  The
Mother would not speak to her in Her special place while she held such torment
in her heart.  When she felt calmer, she would return.  Finally, a
strong impulse drew her to a steep hill above the clearing.  Trees with
round red fruit grew here, and the smell of their sweetness permeated the
area.  She sat on a thick ledge and faced the thoughts that were racing
through her agitated mind.

Kalet's eyes were
like Lotan's, and Lotan had been her mate.  He had been her only mate, for
no other men had been in the tribe except for Bran, who was brother to her, and
Kropor, and she had never thought of him as mate.  

Somehow, Lotan's
eyes had grown again in Kalet.  Part of Lotan was there, in her tiny
son.  Had he passed something to the baby, when he had mated with
her?  But if mating, and men, played a role in making infants, why had
they never noticed before?

Zena's lips
compressed as understanding came.  Few men had a distinctive trait like
Lotan's eyes that would be noticed.  And almost never did a woman have
only one mate.  Zena could not remember such a thing happening before.

There was
Three-Legs too.  Twice, she had given birth after she had mated.  Her
tiny calf had lived this time, and delighted all of them with its antics. 
Had the male gazelle, like Lotan, passed something to her, that helped the calf
to grow?   Was that why she had been so eager to mate, so she could
get a young one?

Around and around
the thoughts flew through Zena's head.  She let them whirl, sensing that
calmness would return only after her mind had ceased its struggle to
understand. 

She was
right.  After many hours had passed, and the sun had traveled far across
the sky, Zena realized that it did not matter whether males and mating were
connected to young ones.  The Mother was still Life-Giver. 
Everything, all that they had, came from the Mother.  Without Her, there
would be no animals, no food, no beauty or wonderment or joy in each other and
the world around them.  Nor did it matter whether she understood how males
might pass something of themselves to young ones.  That was not
important.  What
was
important was to understand the fear that had
come into her heart, the terrible feeling of wrongness she had felt after she
had started to speak to Lotan.  It was as if the Mother Herself had placed
a hand over her lips, to stop her.  If the Mother did not want her to
speak, there was a reason. 

Slowly, carefully,
Zena stilled her racing thoughts and opened herself to the Mother.  The
others saw her sitting there and did not disturb her.  They knew without
asking that she was waiting for a message.  Though she was not in the
right place, her stillness, her total lack of awareness, told them that. 
When Kalet began to cry, Sima gave him to Metep to suckle. 

All through the
evening, Zena waited.  For a long time, all she felt was the sense of
wrongness.  Slowly, it escalated into fear, and then horror.  She did
not shrink, but let it fill her.  Her eyes closed, as if to help her hold
the feelings within her despite her pain, and when she opened them again, the
valley had disappeared.  She was no longer sitting on the hill; instead,
she was on the mountain, on the flat rock, and the snake was before her,
swaying, as it had swayed before.

Zena looked deep into
the serpent's fathomless eyes, eyes that held the Mother's wisdom.  A
small part of her understood that she was still in her valley, but her heart
knew she had returned to the mountain.  So real was her vision that she
began to sway in rhythm with the snake.  She saw the golden summit,
smelled the fragrance of flowers on the mountainside, felt the soft warm air.

Words came to her,
only they were not words but thoughts that had no need of words.  She drew
them in, heard them with her mind, her heart, and her body.

"All things
you may know but this.  Only this knowledge, of mating and males, is
forbidden. Do not speak, for if you do, all that I have wrought will be
destroyed.  Those who come after you will struggle to wrest food from a
land no longer fruitful, and their young will be born into a world of
pain.  Remember this and do not speak, lest the horror you have felt fill
the earth."

The snake's
thoughts pummeled Zena; she felt sick and weak with their power.  But the
serpent had not finished.  Abruptly, it ceased to sway and reared high
above Zena.  Its black eyes stared into hers with such force she fell back
in fear.  It did not strike at her sudden movement, but only lowered
itself over her and continued its malevolent stare.  Anguish poured into
her from its eyes, a terrible, bloated anguish that filled her heart, as if
years upon years of suffering had gathered there, leaving no space for any
other feeling.  Joy was lost, and love and caring.  Where they had
been was only pain.

The snake pulled
back and coiled itself, as if waiting for Zena to respond.

"Never shall
I speak of this knowledge,"  she vowed.  "I have heard Your
message, felt the anguish in Your eyes.  I shall not speak." 
Her voice was no more than a whisper, but her thought was strong and clear.

For another long
moment, the snake looked deep into her eyes.  Then it turned and slithered
away.

Zena sat
transfixed.  Darkness came, but still she sat, unable to move.  Her
body felt battered, bruised all over, as if she had been physically assaulted
by the anguish in her heart.  Slowly, the terrible feelings faded, and
after a long time, they disappeared, and she could not remember the agony she
had felt.  But her memory of the snake's message remained.  She did
not forget the terrifying words, and she did not forget the vow she had
made.  Never would she speak of the forbidden knowledge.

*************************

Zena kept her
promise.  All through her life, she told no one of her experience, and she
never spoke of the connection between mating and young ones.  Slowly,
peace returned to her heart, a peace interrupted only occasionally by reminders
of the knowledge she must never divulge.  Once, Lotan commented on Kalet's
unusual eyes.  But since he had never seen his own eyes, Zena did not worry
that he might compare them and wonder.  It was harder with the others,
when they noticed the similarity. 

"The Mother
gives us many colors," she told them, keeping her voice serene. 
"Look at the birds!  Perhaps She will give us more of these beautiful
eyes in other young ones."

No one challenged
this explanation, but Zena was still careful to mate with other men as well as
Lotan, so he would not give the gold-flecked eyes to all her young ones. 
That was not difficult, for a number of other tribes with whom they often
interacted lived in the rocky hills at the western end of the valley.  To
have others with whom she could share this special pleasure was good, but Lotan
remained her favorite.  The passion they had inspired in each other the first
time they had mated never dimmed, and she chose him as her mate as often as she
could without neglecting the others. 

About five moons
after Kalet's birth, Zena noticed blood dribbling down her leg.  At first,
she was frightened and feared  she might be dying, like Ralak.  The
other women never had the bleeding while they were still suckling an
infant.  But she felt no weakness, had no sense that there was anything
wrong within her body.  Instead, she felt healthy and strong, full of
vigor.  That would not be so, if she were dying.  The Mother would
not fool her.  She ceased to worry, and after a few days, the bleeding
tapered off and then stopped. 

A few weeks later,
it came again for a few days, then stopped again.  Soon, she realized that
the bleeding came with the full moon.  The moon seemed to draw it forth,
as it had drawn Kalet forth.  If the moon was involved, the blood must
have special power.  Zena began to welcome it as a time when she felt
especially strong and close to the Mother.  Often, she spent long hours
communing with Her in the circle of stones as the blood from deep within her
body seeped into the earth.  It was indeed sacred, she realized, for
unlike other blood, that signified wounds and death, this blood gave
life.  Where it had fallen, the earth was fertile, and flowers grew in
great abundance.

When one full moon
and then another passed and no blood came, Zena feared at first that she had
displeased the Mother.  But she felt at peace, had no sense that she had
wronged Her.  Instead, she began to suspect something else.  Her body
felt different, as it had with Kalet, and she was almost certain the Mother had
placed a new life within her.  That another infant should come so soon was
astonishing.  No woman had ever begun another child until the first was
weaned, after four or five full cycles of the seasons.  Still, she was
content. If the Mother wished to entrust her with another life so soon after
the first, she would welcome it.  The other women could help to feed Kalet
if that was needed.  Deep in her mind, Zena knew the new life had come
from one of the men as well as the Mother, but she ignored the knowledge. 
Mating was a gift from the Mother, and new life was a gift from the
Mother.  That was enough.