Time's Last Gift (6 page)

At noon they returned to the vessel and packed more materials. They carried these to the ‘village,’ where the women and children and a few men crowded around them in wonder. The people were amazed at the spraying and hardening of the foam. Only after some talk among themselves did they get courage enough to approach and touch the plastic. They watched as the four piled stones around these and placed some heavy ones inside. Gribardsun cut out the door and replaced it with hinges and a lock. This dome was to hold artifacts and records and specimens and to serve as a temporary home and workshop. Gribardsun walked around it twelve times chanting Carroll’s The Hunting of the Snark and making meaningless gestures. He hoped by doing this to convince the villagers that magic was being invoked to protect the dome.

After that, he went in Abinal’s tent and found the boy sitting up and eating meat from a bone. The boy, who had been laughing with his sister, fell silent as Gribardsun entered. But Laminak spoke a few words to him, and he relaxed somewhat. Gribardsun examined him, noticing that the boy shrank from the touch of his fingers. But his sister jollied him, and she even spoke to Gribardsun, though she knew he could not understand her.

When the Englishman and the girl left the tent, he pointed at various people or objects and asked Laminak their names. She caught on and entered the game with enthusiasm. She was a pretty girl in spite of the dirt and the cumbersome fur she wore. Her hair was waist-length, wavy, and would, if washed, have been a rich chestnut color. Her face was broad but her nose was medium in size and well shaped. Her lips were full and grease-smeared, like those of her fellows, to avoid chapping. Her breasts were just beginning to swell. She had large dark eyes that looked merry most of the time. And she seemed to lack the fear for him that the others had.

He liked her very much, and this liking reinforced her attitude to him. She was intelligent; she was soon putting the names of objects into short sentences for his benefit. Or, rather, as he discovered, incorporating them into words, since the language of the Wota’shaimg lacked sentences in the English meaning of the word. A Wota’shaimg ‘sentence’ was a ‘word,’ a string of syllables or single phones attached to each other in a certain sequence with the object-term as the nucleus.

Later, Gribardsun and von Billmann were to agree that the structure of the speech of the Bear Folk had striking parallels to the structure of both Eskimo and Shawnee. The sounds were different, of course, and Wota’shaimg had no relation to either of those two languages.

Von Billmann, who was fluent in both Basque and Georgian, could determine no relationship between Wota’shaimg and either of those languages. He admitted that his studies of a possible relationship were superficial and that a deep study by many scholars might reveal a kinship. But he doubted it.

Von Billmann’s field was Indo-Hittite with Celtic as his specialization. But he had been highly trained in other fields, including American Indian languages. No one else was as competent as he to study the middle Magdalenian tongues.

TWO

The days and nights went by swiftly. The sun became hotter, and the earth bloomed. The women left the area to dig for roots and collect medicinal plants and edible berries. They also tanned the skins their men brought in, cut them into desired shapes, and sewed them with ivory or bone needles and thin gut-thread. They spent endless hours chewing hides to make them soft. They smoked meat in little huts on racks. They worked from dawn to far past dusk.

A baby was born to Gragmirri, a young woman. Gribardsun wanted to assist, or at least to make sure that the delivery was sanitary. But the birth took place in a specially erected tent to which no men, not even Glamug, the shaman, were admitted. And both the baby boy and the mother did well. Gragmirri was up and working the second day, and the men were handling the baby and exclaiming over its fine physique. Glamug sprinkled some milk on its head, and the bear cub licked the milk off while the baby cried and Glamug loudly chanted. By then the four were versed enough in the language to know that the baby, Shamkunnap, had been initiated into the tribe. He was now a member of the family of the Great Bear, and if he died he would go to a place where the Great Bear, some sort of ancestral spirit, would provide him with all the comforts of life.

The four scientists worked almost as hard as the Bear People. They made records and films and collected specimens. Drummond and Rachel took short field trips. He studied the geology of the area, she collected specimens of plant and animal life and of soil and made many photographs.

The days were getting warm enough so that they need wear only shorts and shoes. One day, Gribardsun started to wear native garb entirely. At this season, that consisted of a skin loincloth and a broad leather belt. He even went barefooted, revealing to his fellow scientists feet with thick calluses on the soles.

‘If you had a beard, you could pass for a Wota’shaimg,’ Rachel said. She looked admiringly at his powerfully muscled yet beautifully proportioned body.

‘You could play Tarzan in the trivis,’ she said.

Drummond did not look happy. He said, ‘Where in hell did you get those calluses?’

‘I never wore shoes when I lived in Africa,’ the Englishman said. ‘You know that I spent many years on the Inner Kenyan Sanctuary. The natives there were barefoot; so I was barefoot too.’

Gribardsun’s black hair was shoulder-length after the fashion that had come in two years before, and he wore bangs across his forehead. He looked even more savage than the savages, since his skin was a uniform bronze but theirs was pale except on the face and the arms. During the past few days he had taken to throwing a spear with an atlatl at a target of wood and grass that he had built. Though he practiced only half an hour a day, he was becoming very accurate. And he could already throw a spear about twenty yards beyond the best cast of Angrogrim, the champion of the Wota’shaimg.

This accomplishment did not lessen his attractions for Rachel.

I always thought that the Cro-Magnons, having much sturdier bones for muscle attachments, would be stronger than modern men,’ she said.

‘These aren’t the very early Cro-Magnons,’ von Billmann said. ‘But even so, they are large, and their constant use of their muscles in hunting and labor should make them very strong. In fact, they are stronger than Drummond or me. Even their smallest, Dubhab, is stronger. But the duke seems to be an exception. Indeed, if I thought such a thing possible, I’d say he is an atavism, a throwback. But he just happens to be exceptionally powerful.’

Von Billmann sometimes referred to the Englishman as the duke, or His Grace. The reference was not altogether sarcastic. Von Billmann had a high regard for Gribardsun which was not, however, unmixed with envy.

The four were by the riverbank at the bottom of the valley below the village site. The German was sitting in a folding chair and transcribing notes from the playback of his recorder. Drummond was breaking open some geodes with his hammer. Rachel had been collecting pollen samples, but she had stopped to watch the spear-atlatl practice.

‘John said he meant to take part in the first big hunt,’ she said. ‘He wants to carry only native weapons.’

‘Admirable, this desire to get into the subjects’ skin,’ Drummond said, looking up from an egg-shaped rock. ‘But I think he’s carrying it too far. What if he gets killed? What benefit will that be to science?’

‘I would think you’d like -‘ Rachel said and then closed her mouth.

‘Like him to be killed?’ Drummond said in a low but fierce voice. ‘Do you really believe I’m jealous of him? Should I be? Have you given me any reason?’

‘Don’t be a fool!’ Rachel said. Her face was red. She turned and walked away a few feet but stopped by von Billmann’s chair.

‘I don’t know what’s the matter with him!’ she said, half to herself, half to von Billmann. ‘He was acting a little peculiar a few weeks before we launched. But since then he’s gotten terrible. Do you think that there’s something about this world, or about being cut off from his own time, that…?’

‘Has Drummond checked the excess or lack of certain ions in the atmosphere?’

‘He has, but I don’t remember the results,’ she said. ‘It should have been the first thing I thought of. But I haven’t noticed any change in my behavior. Or yours. Or John’s.’

‘I don’t know about John,’ von Billmann said. ‘I’ve always detected a certain je-ne-sais-quoi about John, a certain repressed - uh - what the nineteenth-century writers called animal magnetism. Do you know what I mean?’

‘Yes,’ she said, looking at Gribardsun as he straightened up after a throw. The hand that held the long notched atlatl turned, and the muscles leaped out along his arm.

‘There’s something strange about him,’ von Billmann said. ‘I’ve known him, off and on, for twenty years. There’s something of the wild beast about him. I don’t mean that he’s bestial, or degraded. He’s one of nature’s gentlemen, to use another archaic phrase. But there’s definitely something scary deep down under that handsome hide.’

‘The spear went dead center in the bull’s eye,’ she said. ‘I don’t see how anybody using that stick can get any accuracy.’

That evening the four sat around a hearth with Dubhab’s family and watched pieces of deer sizzle on the ends of sticks they held. They were visiting Dubhab today; tomorrow, Waz-wim’s family would be their hosts. To avoid any show of favoritism, the four visited each family by turn. This rotation also enabled them to become more familiar with each family. And, since each had his own pet interests, the visitors could get a broader view of Magdalenian society. Dubhab, for instance, a short, very hairy man with bright blue eyes and thin lips, was a born trader. Rather, he was a born confidence man, since he was always trying to get something for nothing or, at least, for very little.

Dubhab also liked to listen to himself talk and so he would launch into a lecture on almost any subject if he thought he had an audience. The four picked up much information - and a lot of superstitions and misinformation - about many things. But even the folk tales and the wrong data were information. They were part of the picture of what the Wota’shaimg believed.

Amaga was about Dubhab’s age, somewhere between thirty-two and thirty-eight. She lacked five front teeth and a number of back teeth. Smallpox had scarred her face, as it had of half the tribe. Her naked beasts were huge and pendulous, though she informed them that they had been high and firm when she was a young woman. She had married Dubhab because he seemed to be on his way to the chieftainship. And he had been a very good provider. But later, he talked more than he acted, and he was always trying to get the better of others in a bargain. So he had become just another mediocre hunter, and he talked more than any woman, and she had, in effect, thrown herself away on him.

She did not say all this in front of Dubhab, of course, because he would have beaten her if she had demeaned his manhood in public. But, inside the walls of her tent, Amaga told him what she told the strangers.

Abinal, the son, was a ‘normal’ boy. He wanted to be a mighty hunter, and perhaps a chief, and he played at these fantasies when he wasn’t working. His work consisted of learning to hunt, which was no work at all for him, and how to pick berries and other plants in the summer. He shuttled back and forth between learning a man’s work and a woman’s work. When he came of age - at twelve or thereabouts - he would go through the rites of passage and no longer help the women.

Laminak’s rites would be conducted by the women in the summer in some place hidden from men’s eyes. In the meantime, she was becoming a woman without getting official approval. She worshipped John Gribardsun and frequently made a nuisance of herself by hanging around when he wanted private talks with others. But he did not get angry.

Tonight, Dubhab was trying to get Gribardsun to promise him the horn of a rhinoceros or the tusks of a mammoth. Tomorrow, the Wota’shaimg were going on a big hunt, and the four strangers - the Sha’shinq - were going along. Dubhab was certain that Gribardsun would kill some of the big game with his loud noise stick, and he wanted a gift. The horn of a rhinoceros, set before the tent of a warrior, ensured that that man would have strength and courage and prosperity. The tusk of a mammoth was also valuable for several reasons.

John Gribardsun politely refused several times, saying that whoever deserved the horns or tusks, according to the customs of the Wota’shaimg, would get them. Dubhab argued that it was a certainty that Gribardsun would kill many with the stick. Why couldn’t he see his way clear to giving Dubhab at least one?

Finally Gribardsun, irked, said that he did not want to hear any more about it. For one thing, he did not plan to use his thunder stick. Von Billmann would be carrying it, but he would use it only if he had to. He, Gribardsun, would be with the hunters and using the same weapons they used.

Dubhab swallowed his disappointment and managed to smile at the Englishman. Gribardsun - or Koorik, as he was called, meaning Thunder Death - would be a mighty hunter even with ordinary weapons. He would surely slay a dozen great beasts with his spear alone. Why couldn’t he…?

Gribardsun disliked cutting the man off because of his fondness for Laminak. But he stood up, bade them good night, and walked off. The others were caught by surprise, but they followed him. He went to the fire around which sat Thammash, the chief, Wazwim, the singer, Glamug, the shaman, and Angrogrim, the strong man. It was the custom that everyone say good night to the chief before retiring, and Gribardsun tried to live within the customs as well as he could.

The men had been squatting by the big hearths. Over this pile of stones the head men of the Wota’shaimg gathered each evening. As the four approached the hearth, the head men stood up. Glamug got up last, not because of any reluctance to honor them, but because of his rheumatism. Though he might have resented the presence of mightier magicians, he did not seem to do so. He had already hinted that if they had anything to alleviate rheumatism, he would be most grateful. His dancing was becoming steadily more painful. Gribardsun had said that he would see what he could do. He was studying his medical books in the late evenings, seeking a cure for Glamug’s ailment. Rheumatism was unknown in modern days though not when he was a young man. But he had paid it no attention then, and when he became an M.D. fairly late in life, he had never had reason to learn much about it.

The party had been inoculated against every disease supposed to be rampant in the Pleistocene, but since they were genetically invulnerable to rheumatism, they had taken no shots nor brought along any books about the disease. This was one of the curious omissions that the expedition ran across every now and then. It was well known, from a study of the bones of middle Magdalenian man, that rheumatism and kindred arthritic diseases were common. But, somehow, these had been overlooked.

Actually, the planners could not be blamed. It was not part of the expedition’s purpose to cure the people they found. Their primary mission was to study. Any good they could scatter along the way would be up to their individual decisions.

The head men said good night in turn, the chief speaking first. The four set off through the darkness, their lights probing ahead. Near their camp, they heard squeals and then a chilling laugh. They hurried and were in time to see several huge hyenas slink off. They had been trying to get into the dome in which the two pet bears were kept.

When the expedition had first come, the hyenas had seemed fairly common. But when warmer weather came, the Wota’shaimg had hunted down all the large predators in the neighborhood, including the hyenas. These big brutes were dangerous, since they often hunted in packs, were not at all cowardly, and had jaws stronger than a cave lion’s. But many of them died, and in a short time they ventured out only at night in this area. But the few left did venture quite close to the two human habitations.

Gribardsun checked to make sure that the bears were unharmed and that their food and water supply was full. Then he went into his own dome with von Billmann after saying good night to the Silversteins. He fell asleep quickly but was awakened at three o’clock by his alarm. He shook the German awake, and they ate breakfast. Von Billmann dressed in hiking clothes with boots, but Gribardsun put on the skin loincloth and threw a fur cloak over his shoulders. They went outside, where the Silversteins were just leaving their home. They set out for the overhang, drinking coffee from their thermos and saying little.

At the village, they found a bonfire going, before which the hunters, adults, and juveniles sat. The women and children sat about twenty yards away and made no noise during the ceremony that followed.

The strangers, except for Rachel, sat down at the right end of the hunters. Though she was not forbidden to take part in the hunt, she was not allowed to participate in the ceremony. She sat with the women.

As the dawn turned the world blue and green, Glamug came out from his tent. He was naked except for a reindeer loin covering, a rhinoceros skull over his head, and a cloak of bear fur. His body was painted with ocher, green, brown, black, and yellow symbols. One of these was a swastika with its arms to the right, the good-luck gammadion. This was the first time any of the four had seen this, though there were a variety of other types of crosses painted on the skins of the tents.