Chapter 12 - The Search Party part 2

Cheerful Poi-lot, I forgot to mention, was one of Eyya's older brothers. He had teased her ruthlessly when they were children, but they got on well now that they were older, as most adult siblings do. When we trooped over the rise and she saw Poi-lot among our numbers, my wife dropped the basket of mushrooms she had been carrying and raced to him with a delighted smiled. "Oh, Poi-lot!" she cried, and she began to weep with joy. "Oh, Poi-lot, it has been so long!" Poi-lot put down the deer that he had carried to the village for us, and the two of them embraced, pressing their brows together in the Fat Hand way before joining the group as we trekked to the Siede.

My father swept through the fur hangings that covered the entrance of the cave. Some of the older children had spied our arrival and ran ahead to tell their grandparents of the approaching Neanderthals. Filing out after my father was a handful of elders, stooped and gray, and my father's woman Yedda. Yedda stood on tiptoes and whispered something in my father's ear as we approached. Father shrugged as if to say, "How would I know?" and then looked at us expectantly.

Even at the hoary old age of 53, my father was an impressive man, with broad shoulders and a thick mane of ashy gray hair. He had only recently taken up residence in the communal cave of the village elders and I was not quite used to seeing him, or even thinking of him, as one of them yet. Though his years were beginning to bend his back beneath their weight, I still thought of him as the powerful man he had been in his prime, when I was a boy.

My father was the closest thing we had to a chieftain, so as the village children hopped excitedly underfoot, father stepped forward to greet the search party.

"Hoy, Frag! This is an unexpected pleasure," father said, clapping the Neanderthal on the shoulder.

"Your son invited us to stay here the night," Frag replied. "I hope your boy didn't speak out of turn."

"Not at all!" my father assured him, glancing curiously in my direction. "Your people are always welcome here. Our home is your home."

Brulde left to dress our kill while I informed my father and the rest of the tribal elders what the Fat Hands were doing on our hunting grounds. The elders listened sympathetically, then invited the weary members of the search party into the Siede to rest and dine. I followed my father as we wended our way through the fur hangings that compartmentalized the sandstone cave. Inquisitive faces lined with age peeked from the many small apartments as we passed. The Siede smelled of wood smoke and old people farts. We settled around the main fire pit, groaning as we dropped our exhausted bodies onto the furs and woven reed mats that encircled the hearth.

As venison sizzled and popped over the communal fire, filling the chamber with its mouth-watering fragrance, Frag detailed the disappearance of his young hunters. My father listened solemnly and then offered to help them hunt the great cat that had most likely killed the boys. Several other Fast Feet warriors volunteered to assist them as well. They had come to the Siede when they heard the Fat Hands were visiting. Frag accepted their offers gratefully.

"Any speartooth, old or young, is a foe to be wary of," Frag said.

I sat next to Poi-lot and Eyya as we ate. She groomed her brother affectionately, braiding polished stones into his long straight black hair. "I can't believe how strong you have grown, brother!" she cooed. "You were as skinny as a stick when I came here to live with Gon and Brulde!"

"Everyone says that I have become one of our finest hunters," he boasted. "Last full moon I killed a great boar all by myself. It charged right at me as we chased it through the marshes. The beast gored me here with its tusks--" showing a shiny new scar on his upper right leg, near his knee-- "But my blade took its life with one thrust. I alone was given to eat of its heart that night. Tuhl says that I have its spirit in me now."

I filled my gut with venison and the fresh blackberries the women had gathered that morning, amused by my wife and her brother-- and surprised that old Tuhl still lived. He must be older than dirt!

"My husbands are also great hunters," Eyya said to her brother. "I have not gone to bed hungry a single night since they took me as their mate."

Poi-lot nodded and thumped me on the knee, grunting in an appreciative manner. His camaraderie nearly broke my leg.

My father's woman, Yedda, whom he had taken as a mate after my mother died, kept pressing more food on me, as was her custom. She had long held the opinion that I was far too skinny than was seemly. A man with two wives should not be so bony, she often declared. She was a big woman and a bit overbearing, but I liked her well enough and ate all that I could before throwing my hands up in defeat. "Enough! My stomach is about to split open!" I cried.

"Here, Yedda, he's had enough!" my father scolded her, tamping dream weed into the bowl of his pipe. "You'll make him fat like Epp'ha, and then he won't be good for anything!" As we laughed at his gentle reprimand, he leaned into the fire to light his pipe, heedless of his great mane. He sat upright, whiskers smoldering, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. He promptly started coughing. Our laughter redoubled. Red-faced and grinning, he handed the pipe to Frag.

The merje passed around the circle. I took my share and felt the smoke soothe my spirits. When Eyya and some of the other women rose to dance in the smoky cavern, their eyes red and heavy-lidded, I reclined to enjoy the show, nodding in time with their sinuous movements.

It was late when we retired. A million twinkling points of light were strewn across the darkened sky-- the spirits of our ancestors, affixed in their place of honor in the firmament. The stars looked close enough to pluck from the heavens with our fingertips, like tiny glinting stones.

"You should sleep in our tent tonight, Poi-lot," I said. "We have plenty of room."

"Yes, brother!" Eyya exclaimed. "Please, do! I've missed you!"

Poi-lot accepted our invitation, and together the three of us lurched across the village to our wetus. We were swaying quite a bit. My father's merje was renowned for its potency. It was believed that he soaked the leaves in some herbal decoction before drying them out but he had yet to share the exact ingredients of the brew with anyone. Eyya did her best to keep the two of us on our feet as we wound our way through the maze of domed huts but she stumbled several times beneath the burden. We were two very large and very intoxicated men.

The children mauled us when we swept aside the tent flap. They clutched our legs and jumped up and down, raising their arms to be lifted. Poi-lot laughed in delight and sank onto the furs to play with them. "Are these your children, Eyya?" he cried drunkenly. "They are so big!"

"I do not know who else they might belong to," I said, and Eyya slapped me on the arm.

"I got them fed and Brulde has taken them all to the ditch," Nyala said, eyeing me archly. She sounded a little put out that she had missed the merriment at the Siede, but I was in too fine a mood for shame. She appraised Poi-lot coolly. "Who is this Fat Hand?"

I introduced Nyala to Eyya's brother. He nodded at her but did not quit playing with the children. Reclining in my usual place, I made it a point to fill her in on the evening's excitement, which mollified her somewhat. She seemed impressed, and more than a little alarmed, that I would be helping the Fat Hands hunt down a speartooth in the morning. Brulde was knapping a stone by the fire, watching Poi-lot play with the children. He had a wary look upon his face. He looked as if he was afraid the big Fat Hand was going to break one of the children. In all honesty, I was the one with the history of dropping children on their heads, not Poi-lot. (Hey, it happens!) Brulde had left the Siede early, claiming he was too tired to take part in the festivities, but he didn't look very drowsy to me.

Poi-lot was "having a big splash" with his nieces and nephews. That was a saying we had back then. Khere an fest ne tu. It was kind of like saying "he was having a ball". I carved small beasts out of wood for the kids to amuse themselves with and Poi-lot played with my children's trifles in such an earnest manner that I could not help but laugh.

Eyya's children bounced on him and pulled his hair. It was the first time they had ever met him so they were extra excited. Poi-lot endured the affectionate assault and battery with typical Fat Hand equanimity, laughing and pulling their fingers out of his beard when they yanked too hard.

I watched the children play, sleepy and content. Eyya's children looked so much like their mother, same brown hair and dark eyes, that I could not help but favor them. I loved all my children fiercely, but I might have loved my Eyya's children a little more fiercely than the others.

Yes, I favored them! Perhaps that is not a thing a parent should admit, but that is the truth of the matter. I favored my Neanderthal offspring because I knew they might never have children of their own. Human-Neanderthal crosses were difficult births. Neanderthal hybrids were born with larger heads than pureblooded Cro-Magnon children. It was safe for Neanderthal women to bear half-breeds but the birth canals of Cro-Magnon women were narrower and it made delivery much more difficult. Often both mother and child perished during childbirth. That fact alone made the bright little ones Eyya had born so much more precious to me.

Perhaps they would fare better if they took Fat Hand mates, went to live with our Neanderthal neighbors... but if they settled with the Gray Stone People, they would be no less lost to me.

Could their spirits be happy with no children to remember them? Would they join our ancestors in the afterlife if they abandoned the ways of the River People and took up with their Neanderthal kin? As a spiritual man, I worried about such things in my living days.

Perhaps they are comforted by my remembrance of them, monster that I am.

I may live until the sun itself dies, my timeless body incinerated in its bloated belly as it swells to engulf each of the worlds that swing around it, one after another.

Perhaps that is the fate the universe has in store for me… that I should be the One Who Remembers.

Who can know?

Even now, so many years later, I remember each of their names, each of their guileless little faces. Hun, who was Eyya's firstborn, a pudgy and solemn boy. Little Gan, whom I named after my father. He was the most imaginative of our offspring. Little Gan loved the small beasts I carved for him and would play with them all night if you didn't make him go to sleep. Breyya was a middle child, a wicked little girl. She yelled the loudest when she didn't get something she wanted, loud enough to make your ears throb with pain, and was not shy about whacking one of the other children if they got underfoot. "Breyya" actually meant "a loud yell" in our ancient language. She had burst from Eyya's womb, screaming her bloody head off. Don't let me forget Leth and Den and Gavid. Leth, my shy little beauty, with her long blond hair and big solemn eyes. Mischievous Den. Ancestors! We could never keep clothes on that boy! He was always parading around the camp in the nude, sometimes in Brulde's boots, clomping around with a big proud grin on his face. The other mothers in camp teased me about him, saying he was going to be a real woman-pleaser someday. This, as I chased the naked little prankster through the village. And Gavid, my thoughtful one, an old soul peeking out from youthful eyes.

In retrospect, I believe Hun was actually fathered by my Brulde. In those days we had only a little understanding of paternity. Hun's long hair was lighter in color than was typical of a Fat Hand, and he possessed Brulde's gray and worrisome eyes, but our knowledge concerning reproduction was rudimentary. We believed that, at the penultimate moment of sex, the male and female souls intermingled and struck the spark of life within the woman's belly. Regardless, being my tent mate, Brulde's offspring were considered mine, and mine his. In those dangerous times, it was best to hedge your bets, procreatively speaking. If anything happened to me, Brulde would raise my children, as I would do for his.

"My spirit wanes," Brulde announced abruptly, putting aside his evening work. He pestered Eyya for sex, but she slapped his hands away good-naturedly.

"Tomorrow, Brulde... tomorrow! It is late," she hissed, exasperated. She glanced toward her brother, embarrassed.

Brulde accepted defeat and scooped up a couple of cranky babies to sleep with in his furs. "Come lay down with Papa Brulde, you fat little piglets!" he roared, chasing Breyya and Hun around the tent.

He fell upon his furs, a child in each arm. The babies squealed and kicked, giggling hysterically as he tickled them with his beard. Laughing himself, "Papa Brulde" pulled his covers over them all. He had to drag them back into his bedding several times. They were too excited by Poi-lot's visit to lie down peaceably. They finally surrendered, however, and were soon fast asleep in his arms.

Exhausted, Brulde was snoring minutes later.

"My eyes grow heavy as well," Poi-lot yawned. "I will sleep here by the opening. You Fast Feet keep your lodgings so hot!"

In our culture, it was customary for a guest to be offered sex before retiring. Nyala did the honors after all the children were asleep, as it was taboo for a brother to lie on top of his sister. Eyya curled up with me as Nyala slid across the tent to Poi-lot.

He seemed surprised when she wriggled under the furs beside him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking nervously toward me.

"I mean to help you sleep tonight, big brother," Nyala answered.

I grinned at Poi-lot. "Don't be afraid, brother," I said to him. "It will not make me jealous. It is our custom."

Poi-lot swallowed, eyes wide.

"Don't you want me to help you sleep?" Nyala asked him, writhing subtly against his body.

He nodded. "Y-yes… all right."

I watched as my wife slid atop the big Neanderthal. She curled forward so that her blonde hair drifted across his brow. Poi-lot hissed as she rose up under the furs, then settled down gingerly upon his manhood. The covers fell away as they mated. I tried to avert my eyes out of politeness, but it was such a fine show I couldn't help but watch. Nyala arched her back, her small breasts thrust out, her bottom sliding to and fro with an ever-quickening pace. For all his massive bulk, Poi-lot was a surprisingly gentle lover. He changed positions with her, placing her carefully on the furs beneath him, then slid his great tool back inside of her.

Eyya never woke up.

When Poi-lot was sated, Nyala dreamily groomed his chest hair. It was clear from the expression on her face that he had pleased her. Our drowsy conversation turned one last time to the missing Neanderthals. There seemed to be something my bother-in-law wanted to confess. I could see it in his face. I was curious what it was but I didn't press the issue. Finally, Poi-lot confided-- his eyes twitching back and forth as if there might be eavesdroppers-- that other Fat Hand children had gone missing this season, not just Evv and Fodar.

"All of them vanished in the night," he whispered. "Some from their very hearth. It is like the darkness itself stole into the cave and plucked them from their bedding. We have looked and looked for them, but they are lost to us. We do not know what happened to them."

Nyala glanced at the children sprawled in sleep around our tent. Little Gan on his back with his limbs splayed out. Leth curled up beside her brother, sucking on her thumb. Breyya and Hun in Papa Brulde's arms. Her eyes glimmered with worry. If such misfortune could befall our Neanderthal neighbors, I could see her thinking, what was there to keep it from visiting us, too?

"Though none of my people will speak it aloud, I fear an evil spirit is taking them," Poi-lot continued, his voice low. Firelight glinted in the pools of shadow beneath his brow ridge. "Perhaps it is Tat, the demon snake, who steals them away. I never believed in gods or spirits before, not really, but what if they are real? We have lost so many!"

"Our people are ancestor worshippers, but we understand the Fat Hand concept of evil spirits," I replied. "I confess, they have the power to chill us, too. In the daylight, such fantasies are laughable. A tree is just a tree. A stone is but a stone. But at night..." I looked toward the darkness that peeked through the flap of the tent. "Night softens the surface of things, makes even the most solid things seem dream-like and untrue."

"Perhaps we will find out tomorrow if gods and demons are real," Poi-lot said.

"I think that is something I would rather not know," I replied grimly.

"I agree," he said with a nervous chuckle. "But we must seek the truth of it nonetheless."