A NOVEL SET IN PREHISTORY
The Oak People
Chapter 3: The joining
Ansa
At first, Ansa can see nothing in the sweltering darkness. She is alone, listening to the chatter of the women outside. They brought her here, to Bidari’s tent, and pushed her inside, but they show no sign of going away. The sick cramps in her belly still come and go and now that she is away from curious eyes, tears come. She is kneeling on something soft they have laid on top of the itchy grass. She drops her head and starts to rock to and fro. The pictures are still there, even behind her closed eyes. Standing next to Bidari in the firelight. The eyes of the people on her body. The clapping. The shouting.
Outside the shelter, the women’s voices grow louder with excitement. The hide is drawn back and a face appears in the grey of the night. A figure crawls into the shelter. She stops rocking but sickness is pulsing through her body in waves and when she tries to move, there is a painful throbbing in her forehead. She dare not open her eyes but waits, helpless, for what is to come.
She can smell Bidari and feel the heat of his body as he squats down in front of her. He is not a big man; when they stood together in the circle, he was only a little taller than her. His warm breath is playing on the top of her head. When he takes her hand, his feels damp, unfamiliar.
‘Ansa.’
She keeps her head down, listening to the women outside, whispering and laughing. She longs to be outside in the cool air with them.
‘Lie down with me,’ he says and pulls her onto the ground beside him. Another wave comes and she tries not to retch. She is lying on her back on the soft skin. It is painful to move her head.
She can feel the unknown hands on her body, stroking and probing all over, even between her legs, in her puti. She finds herself tapping his words on the ground, one finger at a time. Lie-down-with-me; Lie-down-with-me; Lie-down-with-me.
What he is doing does not hurt, not yet. She has not taken a breath since he began and she feels faint. Taking a gulp of air, she presses down hard to feel the earth under the soft covering. His breath is coming more quickly and she can feel his body, tense and hot, as he leans over her. There is no pain. Why did the women warn her it would hurt? He mutters something and climbs right on top of her. Now there is pain! Something hard is pushing into her soft, secret flesh. She shrinks away from him but she is pinned down. The weight and the heat of his body make it hard to breathe and now the sickness rises up from her belly into her throat. She retches. For half a breath, he stops moving on top of her. Then, when she is still and quiet, he begins again, rocking up and down, pushing into her. His face is right above hers, his mouth open, showing the small gap between his top teeth. She turns her head so that his hot breath is on her neck. The weight of his chest bears down heavily onto her and there is a burning soreness between her legs and inside her body. Squashed under him, her guts are cramping. Boar fat and bitter bile come up into her mouth and she retches again. This time he is moving so urgently that he doesn’t seem to notice. Another wave of sickness comes. She cannot hold it in much longer. At last, his frenzy comes to an end. With a groan, he pulls away from her and rolls over onto the ground. She just has time to get to her knees before spewing the contents of her belly onto the ground.
The relief is immediate but when she moves her head, there is a stabbing pain above her eyes. The secret place between her legs throbs painfully. She kneels by the mess of vomit, unable to move. She should get some ash to cover it but she is frightened and now, suddenly, so tired. The tears begin to flow silently down her cheeks and she flinches as Bidari’s hand touches her arm. He seems angry.
‘What’s the matter? Do I disgust you?’
She begins to sob and now he is squatting in front of her, looking puzzled. He starts to wipe the tears from her face with his thumbs.
‘Are you sick? Come and lie down,’ he says. ‘You can sleep now.’
He helps her onto her side on the soft skin and she draws up her knees, hugging herself with her arms. Still, the tears are coming and she cannot stop them, even though her crying seems to disturb him. He is kneeling beside her, stroking her hair, and there is a smell of kho as her tears soften the dried-on paint. The patterns on her face will be ruined.
‘Did I hurt you?’ he says, but she doesn’t know how she should answer.
After a while, he leaves her and she can hear him moving about the shelter. Then he is gone. There are voices outside but it is like a dream. All she wants is to be alone, to rock herself on the soft skin till sleep comes.
When she wakes, it is still dark. Bidari is lying beside her, motionless. She rolls over onto her back and he stirs. Without a word, he gets to his feet and disappears, coming back with water.
She sits up and drinks it down in one long draught. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers. It is the first time she has spoken to him.
He seems relieved and goes away but soon he is back, holding something. Kneeling, he takes one of her hands and places the object in her palm. It is too dark in the shelter to see what it is. He crawls towards the entrance, motioning to her to follow. Her puti is wet, but the soreness is beginning to ease. When he pulls back the goat skin, there is Balqa, hanging bright and low in the sky.
‘Now look,’ Bidari whispers.
The plain is still and there is only the creaking of the cicadas. Two men are dozing by the night fire. Ansa opens her fingers and there is something soft in her hand, like the skin of a baby animal. It is a tiny bag, strung through near the top with a long, fine thong of the same skin.
‘Open it,’ he repeats.
She can tell by his voice that he is smiling. When she pulls the thong loose and feels inside, there is something small, the size of a baby’s tooth. It glimmers a soft white as she holds it up to catch the light. Is it a shell? She rolls it between her fingers but it is too smooth and round to be a shell. She holds it up again and, at last, she knows.
‘A Balqa stone!’ she breathes, still unbelieving. She has never even seen such a precious and powerful thing.
‘Do you like it?’ There is eagerness in his voice.
Ansa doesn’t reply. She is peering at the shiny ball, transfixed. She has heard that sometimes people who fish in the Salt Water prise open a shell and find Balqa there, gleaming and milky, smooth and round. But she has never dreamed that she would hold him in her hand.
‘Is it for me, to keep?’ She dares not believe it yet.
‘Yes.’ He chuckles at her, but there is no unkindness in his laugh.
They crawl back into the shelter and lie down on the skin. Ansa turns on her side and draws up her knees. Bidari lies behind her, his hand resting on her belly, and soon his breathing slows into sleep. She clasps the bag tightly to her chest. In the morning, she will tie it to her belt but tonight she will sleep with Balqa in her hand. The well-worked hide that has been placed on the ground feels comforting beneath her aching body and the cramping in her guts is all but gone. Already, there is a tingling in her fingertips as she grasps the Balqa stone through its soft kidskin covering.
Thank you for reading. You can read Chapter 4 here
An introduction to the novel and links to all the chapters can be found here:
Or if you prefer, the novel can be ordered in paperback from almost any bookshop, and as an ebook or paperback from Amazon here: https://mybook.to/PYld2
