The Gathering Night (35 page)

‘She's Go-Between,' I pointed out. ‘She and Hodei will have been thinking about why the Animals won't give themselves. That's why Go-Betweens don't think about their own families much.'

‘That's
it
! Amets, I told you my little sister was very wise! Haizea, I hate to say this – but I'm not sure we can trust our mother to be loyal. Of course, she'll never let anyone harm Bakar. I sometimes think he's the only one of us she cares about. I'm not sure she'd protect Kemen. And if anything happened to Kemen . . . Or even Osané . . . I think Nekané loves Osané. Perhaps you
do
love People more when you've saved their lives. But I'm not sure I'd trust Nekané even to protect Osané. The only thing I'm quite sure of, in my heart, is that she'll always look after the little boy.'

I stared into the empty wood basket at my feet, and thought some more. Then I said, ‘Supposing she was right?'

‘Right? Who was right?'

‘Supposing . . .' I spoke slowly, because my sister's husband was listening, and I didn't want to sound impertinent or foolish. ‘Supposing . . . supposing that these Lynx People . . . Alaia, have you never thought about it being
true
? Some great wrong has upset the rightness of things – Hodei says that every Year at Gathering Camp. I mean . . . maybe it's not for me to say this? But every Year Hodei calls upon the People to speak. You've heard him – how he calls on us to speak what we know. There are those among us who know – every Year Hodei says this – who know what it was that upset the rightness of things. I'm only a woman – I
don't
know, but even when I was still a child – and that's not very long ago – I saw how when Hodei calls on them, the People jump up and tell everyone all the small foolish things they've done. I don't think that's the point. When I was a child I heard People saying that angry spirits from the Lynx People had come among us. We
do
know that the Lynx People's spirits were angry – they washed away the Lynx land and drowned all the People. Kemen never meant us any harm –
never
– but it
was
just when he came that our brother Bakar was lost. What I'm saying is . . . supposing it's
true
that it's Kemen – and his brother and cousin too – who've upset the rightness of things? Supposing that
is
why the spirits of the Animals have to withhold themselves? What then? Our mother is Go-Between. If what I say is right, what's she supposed to do about it?'

I don't think I'd ever said so much to Alaia before, and certainly not when her man was listening too.

Amets said to Alaia, ‘I think your little sister is learning to talk some sense, Alaia! Maybe she'll turn out to be worth the bother of bringing her up. We have all the trouble of feeding our Go-Betweens, who hardly ever do any useful work at all, and then we forget what they're for when we need them. Kemen's my friend. He belongs in this family. His enemies are my enemies. But if there are wrongs that go deeper than I know, we'd better find out what they are. Then at least we'll know what we're up against.'

I said to Alaia, ‘Your man probably won't ask you what we women keep chattering about. But if he does, remember to tell him that some of us women hope that this Gathering Moon will see everything sorted out. If the Go-Betweens are giving all their attention to putting things right, we'd better trust them to get on with it. I heard a man say that's why Go-Betweens' families give them food when they don't do much work for us. I think that man talked sense.

‘I want to see Kemen and Osané at Gathering Camp like the rest of us. If our Go-Betweens find out what spirits the Lynx People brought with them, then they can fight those sprits, or, better still, they can make them change sides. Then the spirits would leave Kemen and Osané, and the rest of us, in peace to get on with our lives. When I was a child – when my father was alive' – I couldn't hold back my tears any more when I said that – ‘this family didn't have any enemies. I want to see it like that again.'

I'd meant what I'd said, but now we were all here at Gathering Camp I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. Sometimes when I walk through the trees alone when the mist is down I feel a prickling at the back of my neck. Every stirring twig sounds like a prowling bear; every rustle among the leaves could be a pack of wolves; a twisted root looks like an adder under my foot. Usually, though, I walk in the dark or the fog or the blizzard and I feel nothing but the smells of the trees, the songs of the birds and the cold touch of the wind in my hair. It all depends what mood the spirits are in. That Year at Gathering Camp the spirits lowered above the hearths. Wherever I walked I felt invisible bowstrings drawn taut behind me, their arrows aimed at my back.

It was better at High Clearing. It was good to be young, and able to walk away from our families – from everyone's parents telling us what to do, and everyone's little brothers and sisters trying to follow us about. It was good to climb up through the woods until the trees were no higher than our middles, to the high places where we could gaze into the blue, and see the rocky heads of the mountains. When we got to the Clearing the Sun was scarlet in the Evening Sky, setting the hills aflame. Lapwings called across the moor, flapping their way to roost. The spirits had studded our green ground with harebell, tormentil and eyebright, like sewing different shells on a plain deerskin to make it beautiful. Marsh-grasses were laden with seeds like reddish feathers. Scarlet rowanberries shone so bright they seemed to sing. A chill breeze off the hill kept the flies away: the air was clear and cold as springwater. It smelt untouched, after being down in the woods where the smells of Animals, People and fires mingled by the muddy river banks.

We dumped our baskets of food, and rebuilt our shelters under the rocks, where the heather was thick enough to sleep on just as it was. There were hazel wands left from last Year, and fresh willow and bog myrtle to thatch the roofs. When we'd made our sleeping-shelters we trampled down the bracken in the flat place between the rocks to make our dancing-place. We cut away the turfs where we'd set them last Year, and underneath we found our blackened hearths inside their rings of stone. We'd collected dry wood on the way up, and quite a few of us had brought fire. At High Clearing Camp we could speak to the spirits about the Fire for ourselves, with no one else to interfere. We laid all the fires we'd brought in the central hearth and set kindling to them, and then we took fire from there to the other little hearths around our dancing-place.

I'd stayed at High Clearing as much as I could the Year before. Then, it was to be with my friends – Itsaso was still with us then – but this Year there was more to it than that. I wasn't the only one who was running away from the forebodings that haunted all our hearths.

The second night in High Clearing we did the Taunting Dance: girls in the middle facing outward, and boys on the outside facing us. Last Year it had been my favourite. We linked arms and circled round, trying with all our lungs to out-sing each other. We yelled our insults loudest when our victim came round opposite – it was a great ripple circling around, first far away, then roaring through us:

Ortzi tried to sleep with a girl

So he did!

So he did!

But he couldn't get it up

No he couldn't!

No he couldn't!

He can't even see where he put it

It's so small!

It's so small!

The boys sang back:

Zorioné wants a boy

So she does!

So she does!

She tried to take Ortzi

That's what she did!

That's what she did!

She put her hand down his . . .

She made it sit up quick!

She made it—

‘I
never
!' Zorioné was so angry she forgot the whole point was to take no notice. She screamed as loudly as she could over the chanting. ‘Ortzi is a
caterpillar
! I never did! I never . . .'

The circle of boys collapsed into laughter. We turned and yelled at Zorioné. She'd lost us a point, and now they were winning. But we soon recovered:

Arrats is a very little boy

He looked for a girl

He looked for a girl

She thought he was her baby

That's why she let him

That's why she let him

Suck her . . .

Now the boys were back on their feet again. They didn't wait for us to end our turn:

Haizea looks at Itzal

She wants him to

She wants him to

Put it inside her

So she does!

So she does!

Itzal, why don't you?

Itzal, why don't you?

She wants you to!

She wants you . . .

Zorioné had already lost us a point. I looked over the boys' heads at the oak leaves shining under the Moon. I shut my ears. I tried to make my heart follow my eyes. I tried to be outside that circle. It wasn't just the boys that were betraying me. My belly churned in a way that my head didn't want to listen to. The whole Taunting Dance is about feeling like that – of course that's why it's everyone's favourite – but the boys were getting too clever. My legs felt weak. A flame I never wanted lit licked at my insides. A cruel spirit dragged my eyes back to the grinning boys as they circled past me.

I saw Itzal. He sang with the others. He looked straight at me. Then it was the girls' turn:

Itzal why don't you?

Here's Haizea!

Here's Haizea!

Take her under the trees, Itzal!

If you can!

If you can!

Or we'll know it's much too small . . .

Won't it stand up?

Won't it stand . . .

The circles were taking us in opposite directions. I glanced at Itzal. He caught my eye. He saw I wasn't singing. He saw how I couldn't make myself sing that song. I hadn't lost a point in the game, but I knew I'd lost a point to him.

Kemen said:

Basajaun came to Gathering Camp four days after I did. It was strange to be at Gathering Camp again. I looked up at the Go-Betweens' mound where so much had happened to me four Years ago. In daylight it was smaller than I remembered: just a green wart-shaped hillock in the middle of the hearth circle, with smoke rising from small fires at the top. Children were scrambling up to the top, then rolling down the steep slopes, shrieking with laughter.

At first we thought everyone had arrived – Arantxa's tent was pitched – but it turned out her sons had come on ahead, bringing Hodei with them. I hadn't seen Arantxa's sons since they'd threatened me at Alaia's hearth four Years ago. Now they were keeping out of my way. I didn't mention them to Osané, and she didn't say anything to me. I met Hodei in the oak-wood the day after we arrived. He nodded curtly.

I stood in his path and greeted him with the respect due to a Go-Between. ‘Nekané told me your family have taken my brother and cousin to your hearth,' I said. ‘I'm grateful that you've shared food with my family. I was very happy when Nekané said we'd meet here at Gathering Camp.'

‘You surprise me,' said Hodei dryly. ‘But the spirits protect fools – we all know that. That's if the fools are truly as simple as they make themselves out to be.'

‘I never pretended to be clever,' I said humbly. ‘I know that the Auk spirits treated me kindly when they accepted me as their own.'

‘Then mind them well,' grunted Hodei. ‘For who knows – they may still be watching you.'

After I'd spoken to Hodei the waiting was easier than I'd feared. I was reminded on all sides that the Auk People – except for a certain few – thought of me as one of them. Amets and Sendoa had been telling me that for four Years. On the other hand, they'd never encouraged me to come to Gathering Camp. They knew it was better if I stayed away. I hated lurking in the shadows. I wanted to meet whatever lay in wait for me, and fight it face to face. Whenever I said so, Sendoa shook his head, and said the spirits weren't ready for that. I knew by Amets' silence that he agreed. My friends had their families to think of. And when I spoke to Osané about it she fell to her knees, clutching my cloak, and begged me to stay away. ‘Just a little longer,' she said. ‘That's the only thing I'll ever ask of you, Kemen. Just give me a little longer.' I never let my woman rule me, you can be sure of that. She wouldn't dare try. But I didn't want her voice to leave her again. I'd also had my son to worry about: if Osané lost her milk he'd die. I settled it with myself that while Bakar was at her breast I'd leave things as they were.

Sure enough, in the very Moon that Bakar was weaned – the next child was on the way, but of course we didn't speak of that – Nekané joined us at Berry Camp. She told us she'd met Basajaun – that she'd just come from Loch Island Camp – that my brother and cousin were coming with my enemies – with Edur and Osané's family – to Gathering Camp – that within a Moon I'd meet Basajaun at the Gathering.