Chapter 17

As she did every year, Ivory found the long march south arduous. She was fatigued and shivered uncontrollably from the cold. Winter had arrived early. Although the snow was powdery, it was settling and had become ever more difficult to trudge through. A journey such as this would be tiring in any season, but was even more so when confronted by snowy gales and encumbered by furs. The need for good stitching was more than ever evident as ice-cold water inexorably seeped through the seams.

The villagers followed the route they'd travelled the previous year and indeed since time immemorial, but this year it was obscured by early snow cover. Chief Cave Lion halted the procession at regular intervals to prod through the crisp but thickening snow with a spear to identify the landmarks that would confirm that they hadn't deviated from their intended course.

Herds of mammoth, horse, deer, aurochs, bison and antelope were also advancing across the snow-swept plains in the same southwards direction. Packs of wolf and hyena were trailing the herds and occasionally harried them. These predators were as much determined as the Mammoth Hunters to fill their bellies before the migrating bounty had passed by. Some animals such as bear and beaver preferred to remain in the North and contend with the winter snow. They slept through the bitter cold curled up in tight balls of thick fur deep inside caves or burrows. Some beasts that wintered in the North such as fox, hare and leopard underwent a transformation that turned their fur so white that they couldn't be seen against the all-embracing snow.

"We must rest for a day," announced Chief Cave Lion as the travellers paused beneath the shadow of a huge leafless tree. "The hunters must gather food and the rest of us must gather our strength for the march ahead to the southern mountains. There is a cave half a day's walk from here. The hunters will scout for bears and lions that might be lurking inside. When we know it's safe, we'll rest there for the whole of tomorrow."

A cheer arose from the weary travellers. Such breaks were unusual on the journey, but the Chief evidently recognised how harsh the elements was this year. The break might delay the travellers' arrival by a day, but perhaps more children would survive.

Ivory had never seen this cave before. This deviation from the normal route was one the Chief must have remembered from a southern migration many years earlier. The entrance to the cave was high up on a limestone hillside that the travellers reached by plodding through the patchy snow of a forest floor. It was a relief when it at last loomed into view. However, the Chief was right to be wary about wild beasts. A huge cave lion came into view at the cave's mouth as the Mammoth Hunters ascended the hill, but no lion could withstand a battery of flint-tipped spears and burning flame. At first the lion appeared ready to stand firm and there was the risk that the battle to take possession of the caves might be bloody and dangerous, but he eventually backed down and scampered away. This was a good omen as it suggested that the lion was alone and didn't belong to a pride.

Before the Mammoth Hunters could relax, it was necessary to decide where they would sleep according to their relative status whilst also keeping safe from the constant risk of predators and people from other tribes who might have a claim on the caves' shelter. Ivory and Glade were accorded a location in the cave commensurate with their ambiguous status. This was very nearly as deep inside as the innermost cavern where Chief Cave Lion and his family reposed in relative privacy behind a curtain of furs suspended on hastily assembled branches.

Almost as soon as the company settled down, Glade and Ivory, in their capacities as shaman and shaman's apprentice, were required to minister to the travellers' complaints and concerns. These were mostly just the sprains, scratches and chilblains that everyone suffers from on a winter trek, but two young children were suffering from a fever that could be either a childhood ailment or a seasonal illness. Glade warned Ivory that many more travellers would soon suffer from colds, coughs and worse. Their duty was to determine if the symptoms could be addressed by swaddling the patient in thick furs or whether they were symptoms of worse sickness to come.

"We all suffer from winter aliments," Glade said. "It's as inevitable in the shorter days of the year as the cold wind and the white snow. We must do what we can so that those who are sick and poorly don't have to be left behind. There's only one fate for those abandoned and the sight of the cave lion is a clear reminder of what that might be."

When their duties were performed, Glade and Ivory could at last relax together while freshly slaughtered game was roasted on the flames of the fire and a thin gruel was prepared from the meagre vegetables and mushrooms that had been collected on the wayside.

Ivory warmed her hands and face on the fire. She was grateful for the furs that covered her: the warmth in the cave was not as evenly distributed as it would be in a tepee. The cave walls were only dimly lit by the fires but Ivory glimpsed the small shadows of bats, rats and mice with which the travellers shared the shelter.

"How could you be happy to live with Demure again?" wondered Ivory who found Glade's choice thoroughly incomprehensible.

"I'm not sure I was happy as such," said Glade carefully, "but I would have been unhappy if she wasn't there. My relationship with Demure was an addiction. It gave me intense momentary pleasure but it was also doing me no good whatsoever. It was self-destructive but I couldn't do without it."

"There must have been something good about Demure," remarked Ivory conciliatorily, "otherwise you'd never have fallen in love with her."

"The smell of her skin," Glade recalled. "The taste of her cunt. The way she anticipated my physical needs before I was aware of them. All these things were good. But she wasn't a good person at all."

"Did she find the husband she was seeking amongst the Ocean People?"

"She spoke their language, although not as fluently as I did, and the time she didn't spend with me was engaged in conversation and debate with the men of the village. She rarely spoke to any woman other than me, but I was the one who provided food and kept our home clear of parasites and vermin. It was obvious that Demure didn't choose the men she pursued on account of their physical attractiveness. In fact, I don't think Demure had ever been physically attracted to men, however much she enjoyed having sex with them. I don't know whether I should be flattered, but I truly believe that I was the only person in her life she ever truly loved."

Ivory sniffed disapprovingly, but she understood Glade's description of love as an addiction. Ivory's own peculiar object of obsessive desire was Glade. She could expect nothing more than a very discreet and circumspect show of affection from the older woman she was sitting next to while they were under the constant gaze of the others. There was nowhere private that they could retreat to. The cave's inner chambers were claimed by the Chief and his family. Outside the cave was a carpet of snow and also, no doubt, a hungry cave lion still scowling vengefully within a short walk of the cave from which he'd been evicted.

When sleep came it was very welcome. Ivory had slept uneasily over the last few days, but here with her head nestled on Glade's furs and with no shrill wind she slept so deeply that even the bite of a cave bear stirring from an unsuspected cavern and now seeking prey could not have awoken her.

Much work needed to be done when the sun next rose above the distant plains. The stitches in Ivory's furs needed tightening. The fires needed kindling. Ivory also had to accompany the other women in the foraging of roots, nuts, berries and mushrooms on the forest floor around the cave. The women ventured abroad only very cautiously given the constant risk presented by the cave lion that couldn't be very far away. Even without this fear, there was always danger from bears, wolves and leopards hidden in the woods. Ivory and the other foragers were accompanied by two reluctant hunters who would much rather hunt hare, antelope or great deer than chaperone the women in their unheroic duties.

The sun had only just passed its zenith when Ivory and the other women returned to the cave. They were weighed down by what they'd foraged and were looking forward to a respite from the icy northern wind. There was great rejoicing when they returned: the hunters had brought down a great deer with wide antlers in the forest along with a brace of forest fowl and hare. The travellers would eat well that evening.

"We must celebrate our good fortune!" said Chief Cave Lion. "Have you brought mead with you, shaman?"

Glade nodded. She produced two leather flagons of strong mead which would need to be diluted with melted ice to be palatable. As there was no guarantee that any provision would survive the trek, today was as good a day as any to drink the strong liquor. It would also be a welcome relief to the family that had been carrying the heavy flagons.

The villagers were soon in celebratory mood as the deer and fowl were roasted on the huge log fire while the women prepared vegetable stew to accompany the meat. Ivory sat beside Glade who entertained the company assembled around her with tales of hunters pursuing mammoth or rhinoceros across wide plains and the glory earned by the inevitable slaughter of these proud beasts.

Ivory sipped at her mead. She sincerely loved the shaman even though it troubled her that Glade had once been so foolishly besotted with the wicked black woman who'd earlier been her slave-mistress. How could she have been so foolish: she who was now so wise, compassionate and companionable? Ivory loved Glade's anecdotes. She revelled in the tales Glade told of her travels. She adored it when Glade sung and her voice soared over the crackle of the blazing fire, over the hubbub of conversation and echoed on the cave's dark damp walls. In whichever language she sung, apparently chosen by whimsy, no one could misconstrue the passion, the longing, the pathos and sadness she expressed.

The good humour continued well into the dusk and the subsequent feasting. Ivory was happy to kneel in her lover's shadow and chat with the other women. No man would dare speak to her while she enjoyed the Chief's protection. The animation in Ivory's laughs and chuckles didn't need the stimulus of inebriation. Every now and then, Ivory's ears and eyes focused on the woman she loved. Her heart beat with silent adoration and pride at the shaman's wit and wisdom. It would be a hard task indeed for Ivory to succeed Glade as village shaman, however well her education progressed.

"I see that you're all enjoying yourselves," said Chief Cave Lion who knelt on his haunches beside Glade and Ivory. He'd obviously had more than his fair share of the clay cups of diluted mead that were being passed around the company. There was a strong smell of mead on his breath and his eyes were unfocused. "It's a good thing you are! Tomorrow we climb over the hills to descend into the valleys. We'll need every morsel of strength to reach the southern mountains." He slurred slightly and wobbled on his feet. "Are you ready for the march ahead, my dear?" he asked Ivory.

"Yes, my lord," said the shaman's apprentice apprehensively.

"It's a long journey and we shall have little opportunity for sport," said the Chief suggestively.

"Indeed not, my lord," replied Ivory who already guessed where the Chief's remarks would lead.

"We should therefore take full advantage of every moment that avails itself to us," continued the Chief. "The spirits of the mammoth steppes are now distant and only the spirits of our ancestors guide us on our way. The journey is hard and few are the opportunities for a fuck."