The SealEaters, 20,000 BC Read online

  ‘How’d you know? He was my younger brother. I looked out for him.’

  “That’s a habit you no longer need to continue. If alive, he’s a man able to take care of himself. If dead, he’s probably already in the spirit world.”

  ‘Spirit Talker, I was unable to understand your language when I arrived here. How is it that now I’m no longer breathing air, we can talk?’

  “Because, Spirit, we both speak the language of the spirit.”

  ‘That’s a different language to you and me?’

  “You could say that. It’s definitely your language now. I had to learn it.”

  ‘How do you know that it’s my language now?’

  “Because that’s what you’re speaking. You didn’t speak it when you were here. What you think you’re saying is perhaps what you intend to say. When it comes out of your mouth, though, it is the language of the spirit.”

  ‘Spirit Talker, your words are frightening.’

  “There’s no reason they should be. Each of us is born, lives, and dies. Death is not an end, it is simply passing through an entry to another part of life. It is no more fearful than moving from the belly of your mother to the world outside. It is no more fearful than moving from child to adult. It is fact. Nothing less. Nothing more.”

  ‘How did you learn all this, Spirit Talker?’

  “By many years of talking to spirits such as you. I also learned from the Spirit Talker who was here before me. There is much I must learn. It keeps life interesting.”

  ‘Sometime, when it seems appropriate, will you let Vaima know that I am grateful for her tears and for shutting my eyes? It is good to know when you die, that someone cares. There are others who care, but they have no way to know. They have no reason to know that I no longer breathe air.’

  “I will let her know. She was also responsible for making sure they went back to cover your hand. There is little soil up there at the top of the hill. She had to gather a bag full and Evito carried stones to put atop the dirt. They took good care of your body.”

  ‘That is very kind and I appreciate their effort. Will you tell them?’

  “Yes. You will rest until I return. Then, I’ll help you leave us to go where you belong. Just do not leave my hut.”

  ‘I will do as you say. I will pace in the Spirit Talker’s absence though there is little room here. The Spirit Talker is an old man. He is wise. He has understanding beyond his physical body—that is certain. I’m glad I could contribute something to his people before I pass through the entry to my new life, even if it was simply to tell him three rowers passed by on the river. It is warming to know that although we are very different people, we can come together with respect one for the other. That is good.’

  ‘I am about to leave this life. I leave early. I’ve only spent thirty-seven years on this earth. That is a short life. Maybe there is a reason, something I must do when I go through the entry to this next part of my life. I hope that the gods will approve what I have done in this part of life. It would be good to know that.’

  ‘I’m pacing, and there is little room to do that here. I dare not go out of this place for fear of causing panic. Someone might realize a spirit is here. Even though the Spirit Talker tells me there is no reason to fear, I do feel anxiety. It gnaws on my thoughts. I just wish I knew what happened to Akla. He is my special brother. We were somehow separated. I don’t understand what happened. Does he live? I feel no certainty that he does or does not live. It feels unfinished to me. I suppose when you reach the last thought, the gods are not obligated to permit me to know how things finish before I leave here. It’s what I’d like to have, not what I need. Akla is no longer a child. He is adult. He knows all I know, maybe more. Even if he were still a child, it would not change my death. I can, however, feel relief, knowing he is adult. To me that matters.’

  ‘I wonder what is keeping the Spirit Talker. In some ways I wish to linger, but in other ways, probably with greater strength now that I’ve heard the Spirit Talker’s words, I yearn to go, to begin the next part of my life. And I don’t know how to go there. He will guide me, I hope.’

  ‘Things seem to have been good for Vaima. I was so worried for her when Reg demanded she go with him. I know At was undone back at the Cove that day when we left. But her life is good now. It seems she is well loved by Evito. For that I have a wonderful sense of relief. I wish At could know. Back at the Cove she would have lingered waiting to be wife to someone. It is not good back there the way we live with the elders making too many decisions. She is free among these people to live life fully. And what stories she has to tell about the sea. I wonder how many people living here know about the enormous chunks of ice that float down the place where the water meets the land. If they know, I wonder what they make of that. And yet, does it matter that I know? I hold onto so much that could keep me here for tiny fragments of time. It is time to leave. Where is the Spirit Talker?’

  ‘Parents of mine, I cannot say it to your faces, so I will put the words in the air. It may be that someday you’ll find those words in the air and be glad. You taught me well. I grew up loved. Both of you showed me how to be. I thank you for your love. I thank you for your lessons of how to be. I hope that you will find your way to this land beyond the ice, though the trip is frightening across the sea. This is a good land. You will find more to eat here than seals. You will like this land. I will not know what happens. But I know both of you. No matter where you are, you will be good to each other, and that is what life should be. You make it good for each other and for others who pass your way. I thank the gods you were my parents.’

  There was a slight noise and the man with the bear headdress and skin entered.

  “You are ready?”

  ‘Yes. I am ready.’

  “Then, lie down.”

  The mist flattened out on the Spirit Talker’s sleeping place.

  ‘I’m not going to die in your hut, am I?’

  “Spirit of Murke, you are already dead. This time you simply make the entry to your new life where you belong. There will be nothing left of you here.”

  ‘I think I understand.’

  “Now, here’s what you’re going to do. Shut your spirit eyes so you see nothing. Stop trying to use your senses that were for this earth. You won’t need those where you go. Relax. Turn loose of anything that holds you here. Then, think of those you’ve loved who went before you. Just think of them. You can feel yourself drift toward them. When you meet them, go with them and don’t try to look back. There is nothing here for you.”

  The mist began to rise.

  ‘I can see you, my dear Aunt Gemu. I come.’

  ‘Take my hand, Smiling One. Remember when I called you that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let’s go now.’

  ‘I’m ready Aunt Gemu. I am ready.’

  The mist rose through the smoke hole in the Spirit Talker’s hut. It rose above the tops of the trees and beyond until it could no longer be seen by those living who see the almost invisible and talk to spirits.

  Chapter 3

  Emuka’s Story

  Emuka muttered, “I can’t believe one of the Maiket people speared me from that great a distance. The thrust of that spear was a true wonder. It was all Reg’s fault. He can be such a blundering fool! He assumes the whole world thinks as he thinks, and when they don’t he makes no room for them to have a different view. It would be fine, if he limited it to himself, but Reg drags us into his bad dealings with others, because they associate us with him. I’d like to gag him when we meet new people in this land. Maybe tie his hands behind his back. I am just lying here. Reg and the others fled. I tried to run, but I was unable to make it to the boats fast enough. I ran through brush and hid, but the Maiket successfully tracked me and brought me down. I’m not old enough to die. I have but thirty years on this earth. Have not yet had a wife. After the sea voyage, I thought nothing else so filled with awe could happen. I was very wrong. Now, the Maiket carry me
back to the village. I’m sure I’ll die there. The Maiket will probably kill me, if I don’t bleed to death first. I bleed profusely from the place on my leg where the spear hit. They just jerked it out. I appreciate saving good spear points. I suppose there’s no gentle way to remove one.”

  He continued muttering as he observed the progress to the village, “It’s not far to the village now. I can see the tiny little huts near a very large tree on the top of the side of the river where the bank is about twice the height of a man. Maiket hut construction is similar to the ones we make at home, but these are covered with pine branches and other branches that have a lot of moss hanging from them, but they don’t seem to use the coverings to fill in the holes in their construction. The coverings just lay over the construction. Maiket huts are not as carefully made as ours. Some are just large enough to creep into, since they are so low to the ground. Whoever made those chose short tree trunks. I think the people inside would be uncomfortable. They seem to put them up quickly and have little worry about them. I’d think they would become wet if it rained. A few of the structures are larger than anything we make. I have never been inside the large structures.”

  The men carried Emuka into a comparatively large structure that was made of poles inserted in the ground and strengthened by crosspieces tied to the poles. A bent branch went from pole to pole so that the top of the structure was arched. Arched poles were also strengthened by crosspieces. The structure was covered with pine branches. Some skins were tied over the pine branches at the top. There was an opening in the top to let out smoke from the hearth underneath the opening. The warriors laid down the stretched skin on poles on which Emuka lay. The spear point had prevented him from walking despite the fact it had been pulled out. The pain was too great.

  “You stay,” one of the men said firmly in the language of the Maiket.

  Emuka nodded, having learned that nodding was the sign of acknowledgement. He’d learned some basic words from being with the Maiket, but he would have stayed anyway.

  An old woman crept crablike on bent legs to the place where Emuka lay. She noted the condition of the wound. The old woman left only to return shortly afterwards to bring a basket filled with many things. She knelt beside Emuka and began to clean the wound with a soft piece of leather.

  Emuka looked at her face. She was very old. Her brownish skin hung in wrinkles on her arms, barely covering her tiny but prominent bones, and her face was scored by deep wrinkles seemingly with no end. She had few teeth. The old woman looked like a dried piece of fruit. He noticed her eyes were dark blue, clear as the eyes of a young person, which surprised him. The old woman had short eyelashes and her hairline came very near her eyebrows. Her hair was pulled back in a single braid, white hair more than black. The woman squatted on feet that were turned inward and she maintained that position as often as she could because rising up was clearly painful. Although the Maiket seemed to consider him an enemy, much to his surprise, the old woman was very gentle in her care of him. The SealEaters had been in this village for a half moon, but Emuka had never seen this old woman.

  Emuka looked at her face, pointing to himself, “Emuka,” he said.

  She pointed to herself and said, “Nagangna,” which meant old woman. It was not her name. It was what she was.

  Emuka looked at her and said, “Nagangna is kind.”

  She smiled. He didn’t have any understanding of whether she comprehended his message to her.

  The old woman knew from his tone, he was saying something about her that was good. What he said specifically, she did not know. Knowing it was good was sufficient to her.

  Emuka closed his eyes. The woman finished cleaning the wound and then covered it with some herbs and dripped honey over it. She bandaged it with soft skin and tied a longer strip of leather over the covered area. The wound lay between his hip and knee towards the back side of his left leg. It was terribly painful. The old woman patted his shoulder. Emuka turned to look at her. She smiled. She made the sign for breaking a stick or bone. She shook her head negatively. Emuka returned the smile. He also knew the bone was not broken, but understood it was not something that would let him walk, let alone let him run.

  The old woman crabbed her way to the door and the carriers came to lift the stretcher, taking him outside. Their chief, Dai, sat under the raised door cover to the largest building. The stretcher bearers carried Emuka and lowered him to the ground about three body lengths in front of the chief. Dai responded by moving his eyes, not his head, to see Emuka.

  “You want to die?” he asked.

  Emuka clearly didn’t understand. A young boy, realizing that Emuka didn’t understand, acted out death.

  Emuka looked at the chief and said, “No,” in the Maiket language. He nodded with a smile to the boy.

  The chief told the two stretcher bearers to take him to a piece of leather where a large basket lay. They carried Emuka there and made him sit so he could lean against a rock. Emuka looked at the contents of the basket. There were rocks for making spear points and stones for flaking, chipping, grinding, and some stones the purpose of which he had no idea.

  “Am I to make spear points?” he asked as close to what he perceived their language to be.

  The chief nodded, showing with his hands that he wanted the large spear points that Emuka’s people had, not the small ones they used. Emuka reasoned that if he made spear points he would live. That seemed to him a good trade. He removed the stones and examined all of them closely. There was some excellent flint, obsidian, and chert there. He loved the feel of obsidian. He rubbed his finger over a smooth spot with his eyes half closed, taking care not to be cut by a sharp edge, enjoying the touch of it.

  Emuka studied the large piece of obsidian, turning it over and over. Someone had already made the cores from the rocks. He was interested that they used the same technique used by the SealEaters. He put the other supplies beside the basket. He looked around for a piece of leather to cover his legs for protection. He looked up at the chief.

  “Leather?” he asked.

  The chief didn’t understand.

  Emuka picked up an edge of the piece of the leather on which he sat. He raised a corner of it and repeated, “Leather?” while he showed him the dimensions he wanted, a square the length from elbow to wrist and back again.

  The chief told Emuka the word for leather and told the young boy to bring some. Emuka went back to studying the piece of obsidian. He looked at the chipped corners and began to gain the feel for how it would fracture. The boy returned with the piece of leather along with a few smaller pieces and one that was a little larger. Emuka nodded to him with a smile. The boy returned to the chief. The chief watched Emuka from the corner of his eyes, not to appear too interested. Finally, the young boy wandered off. Emuka had done little to work the stone. Instead he examined it from every possible angle.

  He picked up the second largest piece of leather and laid the edge under the leather beside him. Meticulously, he slid all the extra flakes and chips from the fragmented pieces of obsidian onto the piece of leather. Then, he gathered the corners of the leather and placed the bag it formed along with all the tiny unusable obsidian bits inside the basket.

  Emuka placed the largest skin across his legs. He could bend his right leg, but the left one had to stick out straight. He normally sat on a stone or log when working stones to spear points. He discovered that the chute he wanted to form from the leather across his legs was too low to work. He cleared his throat. Chief Dai looked at him. Emuka used every word he could of the chief’s language and every sign he could imagine to explain that he needed an elevated seating. The chief finally understood. He spoke to a man nearby, who left and returned with a fairly good sized smooth rock. Two men noticed what he was doing and came to help. They moved Emuka so he could sit on the stone. Emuka nodded to each of the men and made the chute from the leather that lay as protection across his legs. It ran straight from his legs to the soft skin fragment keeper of the ba
sket. The men were fascinated. As many points and tools as they’d made, never had they thought to make such a device to catch the little rock splinters that could lodge in a foot, even a foot that was covered. They left the tiny flakes where they fell, usually at a location away from where they lived. The men sat down to watch. They had already learned from this man. They wondered what else they might learn.

  Emuka took the forms that were given him in basic core form, noticing they made the cores in the same way he did. Emuka began by preparing the basic form from the core. He would make a spear point that he knew the chief had seen. His spear point would be pointed at each end, a little more than twice as long as wide, and used to kill horse, mammoth, cave lion, woolly rhino, bears, and aurochs. Emuka was skilled at this task, but it was not an easy one. All the SealEater men could make these spear points, but Emuka was the best. He became one with the stone as he worked. He almost never broke a point while making it. Others often lost their spear points when they tried to create a crosswise flake and the tool broke in half. They’d have to repurpose the point as a knife or another tool, perhaps a drill. Then, they had to do something else with the broken tool parts and start all over again to create a spear point.

  Emuka worked on the basic form for a long time. He began slowly hitting the obsidian with the wide part of a single pointed antler. Emuka worked cautiously waiting to reach his connection with the skill and with the peculiarities of this specific rock. He began to feel familiar with the rock, knowing its strengths and weaknesses. Emuka began to envision the spear point within the rock. As he worked, he fell into his spear-point-making rhythm. Emuka did the initial thinning strikes forming a platform for a harder strike to take off a large flake from side to side; he’d strike to remove the piece he wanted, holding the rock just above the leather on his leg and with his fingers not touching the line on which he wanted the flake to travel; then, he’d strike. Afterwards, he’d take a piece of rock and rub it briskly against the place where the hit occurred. Emuka wanted to remove any small fractures that could become problems as he worked, and he wanted to dull the cutting edge to prevent injury to himself. He continued the process while forming the basic leaf shape pointed on both ends. Emuka was careful when the opportunity presented itself to take off the transverse large flakes.