The Dream Cave Read online

  ‘What do you mean—painting?’ asked Juniper.

  ‘Speak quietly—’

  ‘Why?’

  Hornbeam looked round but the men were still not in sight although their cries carried across the grass.

  ‘It’s a forbidden word. It’s a mark made with colour. The Salvi made paintings of all the animals they chased. I believe your love of making marks is because you’re the same as these people.’

  ‘How can I be the same?’

  ‘Your mother comes from that family. Besides, you have the leaf-shaped eyes and dark hair of the Salvi.’

  As he spoke, Hornbeam let his hand roam over Juniper’s face:

  ‘The jaw, the forehead, they’re somehow different from us.’

  Juniper laughed for the first time in many days.

  ‘I don’t know what I look like.’

  ‘You’ll be taller than the others,’ said Hornbeam, ‘taller than Oak. Tall as I was when I was young.’

  A sudden noise made him look up:

  ‘Look, the swans are flying past!’

  Juniper followed the white outstretched necks of the birds.

  ‘You too have a path to follow,’ said Hornbeam, ‘though I don’t know where it will lead you.’

  The old man spread out his fingers and held them up against the sky: ‘Somewhere out there . . .’

  He paused for a moment.

  ‘We’re in a grip as strong as winter. We must never leave Greenwater because she protects us. Yet if we never do anything different—’

  Juniper spoke quickly: ‘But I love Greenwater best of all. Perhaps Birch is right—’

  ‘Perhaps. But if man is to grow he must explore, he must make things and pass on the old stories about Pollon—’

  Hornbeam looked up at Sungod.

  ‘Our tribe always used his sacred name, while we do now only in our prayers. They told many many stories of how Pollon fought Icegoddess!’

  Juniper looked up. ‘Tell me a story about Pollon.’ He held Hornbeam’s hand and pleaded with him. ‘Please tell me. Soon I’ll have to be silent again.’

  ‘Before long your father will forgive you,’ said Hornbeam, smiling. ‘As for a story, there are many tales about Pollon’s battles with Icegoddess and we haven’t much time. Instead I’ll tell you a little tale about the great Trevi hunter, Kora, who outwitted Icegoddess by living in a hut made out of her skirts—just as Pollon had, a long time before.’

  Chapter 4

  NEW MEN

  Hornbeam was right. Not long after their talk Birch told Juniper his punishment was finished. He would go through the manhood ceremony like the other boys.

  It was the summer. Junipers and dwarf birches were thick with leaves, flowers and herbs blossomed. Juniper knew them as well as his fingers. He always listened carefully when Lumba the medicine man talked about them: vetch, willow herb, the hanging rock rose, the common rock rose, black bearberry, mountain aven . . . They could all be found not far from the shelter. There was the sticky flax that women braided for necklaces or string and sudden bright tulips the men carried like red flames at the ceremonies.

  The manhood ceremony was a great event. Preparation had begun many days before. Eight skins that had been drying out in the cave were brought into the air and hung over the prickly juniper trees. They gleamed in the sun, red brown and gold like flames. At the ceremony the older boys would be given their deerskins. Nobody, nothing could take these from them. It was the greatest gift in a man’s life, a sign of faith from the other hunters. Juniper smiled. Soon he’d be a new man and make everything for himself: spears, flints, sharp cutting stones, bone tools. Early childhood was over. As he watched Sungod climb up the sky on his long journey he smiled sadly. His childhood had ended a long time ago.

  When Sungod was at his highest point the music man came up from the river. Round his neck Mema wore a new circle of river pebbles tied with sedge leaves. He pounded the stones with a pointed pebble. It was a sign for everyone to sit round the huge bison that had been laid out on a trellis of tree branches. The bison had only been killed the day before and it was still oozing blood. Flintman lit a piece of animal fat and placed it carefully on some twigs underneath the branches. Flames sprang up towards the sun and a heavy bison smell hung in the air.

  ‘Get up,’ shouted Birch, to the four boys who were to become new men. ‘Oak, Juniper, Lime, Willow, dance, wrestle!’

  At first Juniper was filled with fear. He stood up slowly and watched the others swirl round. The silence he had lived in for so long froze him. It was only when Oak smiled that

  he moved forward and began to sway.

  ‘Faster,’ shouted Birch, ‘faster.’

  As Juniper began to wrestle with Oak his body was filled with bison heat, bison smell. It clung to him like a great hunger. Mema thumped his stones loud and fast and the beat was in his body itself. They wrestled without anger, and for Juniper, the closeness of Oak was something he would never forget. It was as if his limbs were waking up from a black, silent sleep.

  ‘New men, new men,’ shouted Birch as all the family clapped hands and joined in the shouting.

  ‘New men, new men, new men.’

  They feasted until Sungod slipped into the land behind the mountains. Then Birch ordered the new men down to the water to bathe in the dark before they returned for the knife-cutting when he would make a cut in their arms to prove their courage. Then they would make a night-time vigil by the river to mark their manhood. When Sungod returned, they would hunt up in the hills.

  The water was silky and cold and brought Juniper to his senses. He splashed Oak and laughed at him. Through the fountains of water Oak stuttered,

  ‘I always wanted to speak to you, from the very beginning, even when it was forbidden.’

  Juniper laughed over the falling water and whispered:

  ‘When our fathers are old we’ll hold the stick and beat them—to keep them silent, to show them—’

  There was a splash in the dark water. It was Lime. His fair hair floated like a water weed round his head and his eyes were bright with hatred. He swam up and suddenly pushed Juniper under the water and held his head down.

  ‘Get off,’ shouted Oak, pulling Lime away.

  ‘He won’t make a new man,’ shouted Lime as he swam away, ‘even if he is Birch’s son. He’s too evil.’

  When he had gone, Juniper and Oak scrambled out of the water and lay down on the beach, panting.

  ‘He could have drowned you.’

  ‘Not when you’re near.’

  Oak leaned up on one elbow. ‘Are you afraid of the knifecutting?’

  Juniper said nothing. He looked up at the stars.

  ‘You see all the torches up there? Perhaps the stargods are sharing the feast with us.’

  Oak rubbed the water off his chest.

  ‘I’d rather share the feast with them than Lime. I’ll never trust him.’

  Juniper continued to stare at the silent stars.

  ‘Do you ever want silence to speak?’

  ‘What silence?’

  Juniper stretched out his arms.

  ‘Skygods say nothing, stonegod says nothing— silence is everywhere.’

  Oak shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Your punishment makes you talk like that. It means nothing at all. Anyway, talking about gods isn’t safe. Just now you were laughing—’

  Juniper lifted his head and looked down into the water where the little torches of the gods were reflected in long ripples. Did no one else wonder why it was all here?

  Then Oak spoke in a rush. ‘You can tell me anything, anything you like.’

  Juniper smiled. He had a friend and he felt as if Sungod was in his heart. It was as if he’d been given some sort of an answer to the silence.

  Sungod rose from the mountain and the newmen staggered up the hillside. Juniper lagged behind. He wished he was as strong as they were. He felt drowsy from his darktime vigil and blood was still running from the cross Birch had inc
ised at the top of his spear arm. But he went on, holding his spear high up like Oak and the others.

  He wasn’t going to be left behind.

  A long way off, early sunlight shone on the white mountain where Icegoddess lived. Juniper could see the ibex roaming across the lower slopes. Nearer still aurochs and cows walked slowly, their heads down towards the grass. As Sungod rose higher and higher his light fell on a herd of deer ambling down towards the trees. Then the forest closed in and dwarf willow and birch and juniper trees gave way to tall pines. This was the path Birch had described to them. Further along, several pits had been dug where many animals had been trapped. As the trees and shrubs thickened Juniper felt he was in a cave. Pine shadows fell across the path and between them sunlight danced like the stars that danced last night on the water. He watched his own shadow travel with him as he jogged painfully along.

  ‘Your other self,’ Hornbeam had told him. ‘Our shadows are more powerful than we are.’

  He heard the sound of many feet, the crunch of dead branches, the screech of birds, their wings shaking the leaves. Lime had begun to beat the undergrowth with his spear. Now a boar was pounding in front of them and everyone broke into a run. There was a sound of falling branches somewhere ahead on the path as the boar fell into one of the pits. Together the newmen ran round the corner and surrounded the pit, their weapons held high. Juniper threw his spear into the boar and watched its blood spurt from the wound. Oak and Willow and Lime aimed, shouting loudly, throwing stones into the pit until the boar’s skin bruised and bled and black noises came out of his snout.

  At last they silenced the animal and he lay still, his little eyes blank like pebbles in the river, his skin torn open. The leaves in the pit had turned red and there was a smell of blood. The newmen sat round and stared at the dead boar. Then Oak stood up and began the killing prayer and they all joined in. Only Juniper whispered because he was unused to sharing his words with the others:

  ‘Beautiful dead animal, while you were alive you guarded the spirit of one of our ancestors. Now you are dead the spirit will be born again as a new baby. We honour you. All animals are more beautiful than men.’

  When the echo of their voices died away Juniper made the same noise as the dying boar and Willow and Lime danced round the pit. Lime overbalanced and fell in. He scrambled out, frowning, sticky with blood.

  ‘That was your dead noise,’ he accused Juniper. ‘It made me run too quickly.’

  Juniper had no time to argue. They jerked their spears from the boar’s body and bound it with a grass rope. Together they heaved the animal out of the pit and dragged it down the path.

  When Sungod stood over the tallest tree they arrived back at the shelter. The women and children greeted them as newmen and Birch gave the river cry. Juniper ran down to the water with Oak. His stickiness and taste of blood rolled out into the river and to his surprise he felt as he did when he made marks. Sungod was inside him as he floated on the cool bed of water. He would have laughed out loud—that is if he had not wanted so much to put down the marks of the boar. But that was forbidden. Instead he made pictures in his head and kept them there, as if they were in a secret cave.

  Chapter 5

  BURIAL CHAMBER

  The seasons passed quickly and now it was winter. The air was cold and white. Juniper tied pieces of hide to his feet with grass cords, pulling them over his ankles. He laughed as he watched Oak trying to cover his short, wide feet.

  ‘Anything for a change! We might catch a fish.’

  ‘It’s late,’ said Oak, but Juniper shrugged his shoulders. Outside the shelter they walked slowly. The path wound between high banks of snow. When they reached Greenwater, Sungod was sliding behind the mountains, spreading his shining, red deer hide over the frozen water. Juniper tested the ice with his foot.

  ‘We’ll make holes for the fish.’

  They tapped the river with sharp stones but Sungod had disappeared before they reached down to the water. Protected by darkness Juniper picked up a sharp pebble and made a fish on the ice. He carefully drew in an eye and a tail. Oak leaned over to see what he was doing.

  ‘You’re mad! Why have you begun again? You know Birch says it’s badpower.’ His blue eyes betrayed his fear.

  ‘Listen!’ Juniper clutched Oak’s shoulders and spoke intently. ‘I’ve thought and thought about it all through the short dark days. It’s not badpower. It’s goodpower, like Sungod’s.’

  Oak quickly covered the marks with scratches.

  ‘There, it looks like wind marks.’

  They stood for a while in silence, peering at the scuffed ice.

  At last Juniper spoke: ‘I can’t stop myself.’

  Oak said nothing. His eyes were almost blinded by the intense cold. For a moment they looked at each other in the grey light. They were newmen but they still had no power. It was as if they were caught up in something bigger than themselves.

  At night the Windgods swirled round the shelter like many hawks hunting for food. Juniper woke and looked at his sleeping friend. Oak’s red hair hung over his eyes. A downy moustache shadowed his top lip. He was lightly snoring. Juniper listened to the gentle breathing of the other newmen. He liked the way they slept together until they had their own families. He was glad to be out of his mother’s tent. Gentian was always restless and unhappy. Not like Lily who had always laughed with him. It seemed a long time ago. Was it Gentian he could hear now? No, it was coming from the other side of the shelter. He cupped his ear and listened intently. Was it Hornbeam? For a long time the old man had been sick. The groans went on as if Paingod was beating the old man with his long black fingers.

  Juniper stood up. The huge noise of the wind would mask any sound he made. He trod silently between the families’ tents, to the back of the shelter. He slipped inside Hornbeam’s tent and knelt down.

  ‘Do you want water?’

  Juniper reached for a cup and filled it from the skin bag that was propped against the wall of the tent. He lifted Hornbeam’s head very gently and pressed the cup to his shrunken mouth. He could feel Hornbeam’s sickness reach out to him, and he stroked the grey head to make the sickness go away.

  ‘Listen.’ Hornbeam’s voice was like stone scraping on stone. Every word he spoke was surrounded by silence. ‘Juniper, remember my words. Do not give up even when darkness is in you. Not all exiles turn to stone. Follow Sungod . . . over the grey land. The angry river. . . cliffs grow above . . . many caves . . . nearby the river . . . branches . . . follow . . . into the hills . . . the woods . . .’

  Hornbeam fell back and Juniper rocked him to and fro in his arms. He was as light as a bundle of feathers. The old man was struggling to speak again, his voice thin and prophetic—as if he could see Juniper’s life in the lightstone.

  ‘You will hear their hunting lament . . . you will know . . .’ He lay back then once more struggled to speak: ‘You will find . . . Salvi . . . learn their secret . . . make marks . . . last forever.’

  Tears rolled down Juniper’s cheeks.

  ‘Don’t talk, there’s no need. I’ll stay with you. Close your eyes.’

  Hornbeam beckoned him closer. ‘You may need my words . . . to give . . . strength . . .’

  Even in the dark his eyes glistened like the lightstone that hung round his neck.

  Juniper nodded. ‘I’ll always remember. Always.’

  They smiled at each other until Hornbeam shut his eyes and Juniper stroked his head over and over again, as if the old man had become his child.

  Hornbeam died before anyone could carry him to the sickness rock. He was given a special place in the burial cave. Graveman dressed him in his finest bone necklace and sprinkled him with the most precious dried flowers. He put the lightstone into his hand to make certain his spirit would be housed in a wise animal. Then he covered him with his manhood hides and left him with another deerskin for Stonegod. Only men were allowed in the burial chamber. They chanted to Mema’s music and circled round and round the n
ewly dug grave. As Mema’s music slowed down the men came to a standstill. They held hands and prayed loudly to Stonegod.

  For many days one of the men sat by Hornbeam’s grave to guard him on his long journey. Birch put meat and a bowl of water at the feet of Stonegod so Hornbeam would never be hungry.

  When it was Juniper’s turn to guard the grave he rocked to and fro and wept, until Lime came up and poked him in the ribs.

  ‘What are you crying for? He’ll soon be in a fine reindeer. The king of the forest. Anyway, you’d better get going. It’s my turn now.’

  Juniper didn’t move and Lime sat down by the grave, fidgeting. Walnut was Wiseman now, he said; they could forget Hornbeam. It was about time. He pinched Juniper and told him to get out but Juniper stayed where he was, too full of grief to care about the way Lime spoke.

  All through that winter Hornbeam seemed to stand beside him like his grey self on the ground, while Sungod travelled a long way off in the cold, white sky.

  Chapter 6

  THE SECRET CAVE

  The seasons passed in Juniper’s dreams like the fragile rainbows he sometimes saw in the sky.

  Now he was staring down at the river. Greenwater had shed her skin and soon they would celebrate Koni, the victory of Pollon over Icegoddess. Juniper already knew the girl he was going to have at Koni. Rose was tall and dark with black hair that reached down to her buttocks.

  He turned to Oak: ‘You haven’t told me who you’re having. There’s not long.’

  Oak stroked his thick red moustache. ‘Lime is grumbling because he wants Rose. As for me, I don’t like any of them! If it must be Marigold—’ he pulled a face, ‘she’s thin and pale, always trailing after her mother. She’s dumb and ill. They say she’s touched and no one wants her. But I don’t care which one I have. What does it matter?’