Page 81 of Circle of Days
As the dogs came closer, the deer began to run.
“Not yet, not yet,” Bez whispered, though no one could hear him.
The hooves were pounding now.
Over to Bez’s left, someone jumped up too early; an adolescent boy, he saw out of the corner of his eye. The boy shot an arrow that did not hit anything. It was nervousness, Bez knew; it often happened. He stood up and quickly scanned the group of deer. They had divided, some heading to one side of the boy, some to the other. The mistake was not fatal; the deer were still moving forward.
Everyone was up now, and the deer were almost on them. Hunters on the wings of the line ran to the middle, trying to form a circular trap. A buck tried to pass by Bez, who saw his chance and shot an arrow at close quarters into the animal’s throat. It ran on a few paces, then fell.
There was no time to put it out of its misery, because another beast, this one a doe, was coming straight at him, head lowered. There was an arrow stuck in its rump that did not seem to be slowing it. Too late to shoot another arrow, Bez drew a club from his belt and struck, aiming to break the beast’s foreleg. The deer stumbled and fell.
And then it was over. The deer were dead or dying, all but one, which had got through the killing line and was now galloping alone into Alder Wood.
There were eight deer on the ground, enough to feed the entire tribe with more left over for tomorrow. Bez felt a glow of satisfaction. The tribe was saved.
Tomorrow they would continue northwest, hurrying to get ahead of the deer so that they could lie in wait again. In this leapfrogging way they would go on to the Northwest Hills, where the deer would graze the new grass and the tribe would eat the deer.
He saw Gida gazing at the beasts, no doubt thinking what he was thinking, and he went up to her and put his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him and smiled, and he kissed her.
People started to make fires, using dry twigs and branches from Alder Wood, lighting them by striking a spark with flint against the yellowish firestone. They cleaned and skinned the deer, andbefore long the livers were being toasted on sticks, a special treat for the children. The aroma made Bez’s mouth water.
He sat by Fell and Gida while waiting for the meat to roast. Fell said: “We owe a lot to that priestess, Joia. She told us true.”
Bez said: “I think we’re beholden to the brother, Han, the one with the big shoes. He saw us in trouble and helped us. It’s the kind of behavior you expect from one of your tribe. You don’t often get it from a stranger.”
Gida nodded. “He acted like a tribesman.”
Bez said: “He’s one of us.”
Pia had hoped she might get used to living with Stam, but a few days had shown her that it would never happen.
He was a hard worker, and he was able to bring water from the river to the fields twice as fast as Yana and Pia. He did so willingly, happy to demonstrate his superiority. His and their efforts were being rewarded: green shoots were appearing in the furrows, and they had had to get a dog to chase off the hares and other creatures who would eat the crop before it had fully grown.
Stam was also a good shot. He brought down birds using a club-headed arrow that did not damage the meat, and they often had lapwing, swan, heron, and fat little woodcocks to supplement their meager diet.
So far Stam had heeded Yana’s warning against violence. She had been very scary at that moment. People still talked about it, the men with outrage, the women with awestruck admiration. Stam had not forgotten it. He was almost subdued when Yana spoke to him, and he never disagreed or argued with her. Perhaps he was used to taking orders, having been brought up by Troon.
That was the good side.
He was greedy, eating as much as he wanted, then leaving the rest for the women. He was big and clumsy, always bumping into people and things. And he smelled bad.
Every night Pia heard him having sex with her mother. Yana was silent, but Stam made a lot of noise, grunting and groaning. It had been different with Pia’s father. They had murmured words, Yana giggling and Alno chuckling. The two had been equally enthusiastic. With Stam the pleasure was clearly all on one side.
Worse, he made a pass at Pia every chance he got. He had not forced the issue, and now she avoided being alone with him; but she was afraid that one day he would catch her unprotected and hold her down and rape her.
When she felt unhappy she turned her thoughts to Han. Soon she would see him at the Midsummer Rite, with his fair hair and his enormous shoes. It would be only two or three days, but it would be like a rehearsal for the rest of their lives. They would eat together and sleep together, and if she became pregnant she would be even happier.
When they became a couple, she would leave Farmplace. She was firmly resolved. Troon would be furious, but she was not a prisoner. And she longed to get away from the farmer community. Since Troon became Big Man it had got more rigid. And in the drought people were too afraid of losing their livelihoods to resist him.
Her only regret would be leaving her mother. But she cherished a hope that perhaps one day Yana, too, would flee from Farmplace, leaving Stam behind.
One evening, Stam went to shoot woodcocks, which came out at dusk to eat beetles and worms in the fields. Pia and Yana were milking the goats when they were approached by Mo.
She looked scared. Pia said: “Hello, Mo, what’s the matter?” and Mo burst into tears.
This was uncharacteristic. She managed to say: “Troon is a pig.”
“What has he done?”
