“But I don’t know if I should marry her. How could I let our people think I raped her?”
Haven pursed her lips. “I see the problem. Maybe she’ll agree to shut up about that aspect.”
“I’m not sure. She’s very insistent.”
“Well in any event, you can have her now without rape. You had better do it, lest you lose the chance.”
He smiled, and went inside. Crenelle was stirring. He lay down beside her and stroked her flung hair.
“I was afraid you would run away and desert me,” she said. “I know you have doubts.”
“Not without telling you.”
“You didn’t come back just for more sex?”
He was embarrassed. “Not just for that.”
She laughed. “Take it.”
He did, half afraid she would protest or resist, but she was fully cooperative. She had evidently meant it when she promised never to resist him again.
“West,” she said as she embraced him. “Across the mountains and the lakes. I have heard there is land there that no one occupies. Wide land, so far across that no one knows its end. Much game. I know a route.”
That was not what she had said before. But he could not blame her for not telling everything to strangers. “How can you know it, if you haven’t traveled?”
“My father went there once, and told us all about it. I know I can guide you there.”
His passion was spent, but something new was rising in him. “Thank you, Crenelle,” he said, kissing her again.
“Well, I said I would be good for you.”
She had indeed. “But this business of saying it was rape—”
“You and I know the truth, Hero. Does it matter what others think?”
“Why not let them think there was no rape, then?”
She shook her head. “Please, Hero. My people will not recognize it as marriage otherwise. They will say I wantonly wasted myself, and am unfit for marriage.”
He appreciated her point, but still could not admit to the lie. She had indeed been somewhat wanton, but it was in her effort to persuade him to marry her.
They went outside, where they ate more of the roast. Then Crenelle prepared to go. “I will leave a message for my brother,” she said. “So he will know.”
“A message?”
She went inside, and emerged with two cunningly made doll figures. One was male, with a little stick for a penis; the other was female. She set them together, facing each other, and looped a length of tendon around them so that they would stay that way. She arranged them so that the male doll’s arms were clasping the other close, while the female’s arms were stretched out at wild angles, as if helpless to defend herself. She laid them on her mat. That seemed clear enough.
But it reminded him once again of the lie. “Crenelle, I can’t—”
Crenelle faced him, her face crumpling. She was going to cry, and he couldn’t stand that, as she surely knew. But this, too, was effective even when understood as a ploy. Yet how could he face his brothers Craft and Keeper, or his fiery sister Rebel, if he confessed to raping a woman?
Haven interceded. “Can you tell your people it was rape, and we tell our people it was not? If you come with us now, Crenelle, our people and yours will not meet.”
Crenelle considered. “I suppose so. For a marriage this good. If Hero agrees.”
They turned to Hero, awaiting his decision. He had no idea what to say.
The twin engines driving the migrations of mankind were surely population and climate. When folk found a good location, such as the fertile basin of the Lake Victoria region, they were fruitful and multiplied, filling their ecological niche. Then the climate would change, making their homeland less fertile while promoting other regions. The people had to move or starve, as their homelands could no longer support them. First they spread all over Africa, then across the rest of the world. Their exact routes across Africa are unknown, and probably there were many migrations over the millennia crisscrossing given territories. Most of the species remained in Africa; there is more human genetic diversity there than in all the rest of the world.
Mankind was considered to have been a hunter/gatherer for most of his existence. But this did not necessarily mean that he lacked houses. It would have been more comfortable to sleep in a covered, protected place, and to have supplies there for convenient use. Such structures might have been dismantled and moved to new sites periodically, or simply allowed to deteriorate when deserted, so that only the hearths would remain for archaeologists to find. It is also possible that most tribesmen traveled, while some remained in houses. We just don’t know.
Did any cultures practice rape as a mechanism for marriage? They surely did, because some do today. Yes, we frown on it, as we do on sex with fifteen-year-old girls, but in the past nubility was the signal for sexual availability, regardless of the girl’s preference. We try to impose a veneer of modesty and caution, but teen girls are still getting pregnant.
The place of music in human development is largely unknown, because sound leaves no fossils. But a 60,000-year-old bone flute was found in southeast Europe in 1995, suggesting that music was indeed part of mankind’s heritage. There may have been many other musical instruments that left no traces because they were made of wood or leather. It is conjectured that music and language are closely connected, and the continuing popularity of songs of all kinds endorses this. Music may be one of the ways men can impress women, leading to sexual selection for it, but surely women can also impress men with it, especially when they dance to it. As described in a prior GEODYSSEY novel, the arts, especially music, probably enabled larger groups of people to assemble peacefully, contributing to tribal strength. But it surely started on the individual and couple level, facilitating relationships, as shown here.
2
HAVEN’S CURSE
One mystery is why modern mankind, having emerged from Africa to Asia Minor circa 100,000 BPE, took so long to move on into Europe, as well as remained relatively primitive in technology. The answer is probably that southern Asia was far more inviting, being warmer and closer to the African climate in which the species had evolved. Europe was cold and forbidding, and was already occupied by a formidable competitive species, Neandertal man. So the advanced mainstream human culture proceeded eastward. (Another answer is discussed in the afternote.) But there were some contacts to the north.
The prior novels of this series followed one or more characters through history, their seeming reincarnations similar in description and relationships. This novel differs in one respect: while the relationships of five siblings to each other remain constant, their connections outside the family differ. They are not really the same people, but descendants many generations removed. They may make fundamentally different decisions at the critical turning points. It is as if reality is played over, so that alternate bypaths may be explored. Thus a person who marries in one chapter may not be married in another, depending on a key decision. Or one who is undecided in one chapter may, by this device, get to live through the consequences of each side of a decision. The differences, as time passes, may become formidable.
The setting is southern Anatolia. The time is circa 74,000 BPE, not long after a savage global winter decimated human and animal populations.
Haven drew her fur hood closer about her face and forged on into the increasingly chill terrain. Her companion did the same. After Hero’s journey south had failed to find good, unoccupied land, Haven had decided to try a trip of her own, to the north. Hero, discouraged, did not come; instead it was her younger brother Craft who accompanied her. Craft lacked the power and expertise of the hunter and warrior, but had other assets. Actually he knew more about tools and weapons than others were likely to realize, because he focused on learning how to make them. In order to make them well, he had to know how to use them. But he preferred to pretend that he was no warrior, and indeed he was not, emotionally.
They had been warned against coming here
, and the warning seemed well taken. It had been cool at home in the fall; here in the northern mountains it was cold. They had found nothing worthwhile; all the good hunting and foraging ranges were already occupied. Their only hope was to get beyond human habitation and find open land beyond—perhaps on the other side of these mountains.
But crossing the mountains was not proving to be easy. There was already snow on them, and they were not properly prepared. The two of them had bundled up as much as they could, but remained cold, especially in the feet. They would have to find warm shelter for the night, or they would be in serious trouble. She was almost sorry she was traveling with Craft instead of with Keeper, because Keeper would have brought his tame wolves, and they liked to curl up and sleep next to her feet, keeping them warm. But out here in new country it was too dangerous for the wolves, because other hunters would not know they were tame. Wild wolves never came within a spear-throw of a person, but the tame ones did.
Then she saw smoke. That meant a house. Where there was one residence, there might be another. They should be able to make a deal for food and shelter this night. It was a great relief, because they had passed a number of ruined homesites, some with the bones of their former occupants scattered around. No mystery what had happened: they had starved to death in the terrible winter. Few people remained, and few animals. All had suffered horrendously.
They trudged toward the smoke. Sure enough, there was a stone and wooden structure, with a hearth in front. With luck, a friendly family lived there.
A man emerged as they approached. He was shrouded in furs, but looked tall and handsome.
“Hail!” Haven called. “Can we trade for shelter?”
The man didn’t answer. He just stood and gazed at them. He held a spear ready.
Haven realized that the man might think they were enemies coming to attack. Strangers were always a gamble, and not to be trusted until something was known about them. The best way to satisfy him that they weren’t dangerous was to reveal her gender. So she stopped, and drew open her fur cloak to show the mounds of her breasts under the skin vest. She inhaled. “I’m a woman. I mean no harm. My brother and I need shelter for the night.”
The man looked. He nodded. In the widely scattered enclaves of their species, young women were a universal currency. A man would gamble to obtain access to a woman in ways he would not for other purposes.
They resumed motion. They came to the hearth, where the radiating heat was wonderful. Haven put her hands out to it. “Thank you! We’re freezing.”
The man turned and opened the bound-sticks door of his house. They ducked their heads and entered. It was dark and close inside, but warm from the fire. What a relief!
The man followed them in. He dug into a crevice and brought out sections of smoked meat. He handed them across as Haven’s eyes adjusted to the wan light. She found a place to sit down, and Craft sat beside her. Then the man squatted opposite them.
They removed their packs, which were hide bags slung over their shoulders, containing their traveling belongings. That was one of the things Craft did: he made superior packs, facilitating transport of tools and food. “I am Haven,” she said by way of introduction. “This is my brother Craft. We are looking for land for our siblings to occupy.”
The man said something, but she couldn’t make it out. Craft caught on, though. “It’s a foreign dialect. He doesn’t speak our language.”
Oh. She should have realized. They were in the hinterlands, far from her tribe. But that was the point: they were looking for unoccupied land they could take over. Hunting and gathering required a wide range, so that the animals and edible plants did not become even scarcer. She had known that distant tribes did not speak the same language; she just hadn’t thought of it. Actually the tribes were largely defunct; this would be a surviving remnant.
She tried again, this time augmenting her words by gestures. “Me Haven.” She tapped her breast. “Me woman.” She tapped Craft on the shoulder. “Craft. Brother.”
The man tapped his chest. He repeated what he had said before. Haven still couldn’t make it out. So she repeated the closest word it might be. “Harbinger? Your name?”
He nodded. Whether his understanding was the same as hers was doubtful, but it would have to do. She would call him Harbinger, hoping that he was indeed the herald of good news.
She glanced at Craft. “We should pay for our lodging.”
He nodded, and dug into his pack. He brought out one of his carvings, three wood circles, linked, and proffered it to Harbinger. The man took it and studied it, curious in the way any person was who first encountered such a novelty. Then he shrugged and handed it back.
“But it is for you,” Craft said, gesturing.
The man shook his head. “Naa.”
“He doesn’t understand,” Haven said. “Maybe when we work out some mutual vocabulary.”
So Craft put it away. Haven tried to engage Harbinger in conversation, pointing to things, asking their names, saying the names she knew for them. But the man seemed not much interested. He abruptly got up and pushed outside.
Surprised, Haven got up to follow him, but he gestured her back, glancing at Craft. So Craft got up and went out. Harbinger picked up the last few sticks of dry wood and set them carefully on the fire. Then he set off briskly along a path toward a distant forest.
“More wood,” Haven said. “Help him fetch more wood.”
Craft nodded and followed the man. She stood just inside the doorway, peering out between the spaces between branches, until they were out of sight. Maybe Harbinger had understood, but wanted help with the wood rather than a novelty item. It was true that they needed heat, for the coming evening promised to be cruelly cold.
She took advantage of her time alone to go out to urinate. There was a path to a place not far behind the house that was plainly used for such functions. She opened her cloak, drew aside her loose loinskin, squatted, then scraped some dirt over the spot. There was no point in advertising her personal odor to the local animals, who could be as desperately hungry as the people. She returned to the house.
In due course the two men returned, bearing armfuls of gathered branches. The branches were of different sizes, ranging from twigs to substantial pieces. Some were firm, some dry-rotted. So they had had to forage for them, ranging across an area. A necessary chore for a night’s fire.
They dropped their loads next to the hearth. “I’ll get more,” Craft said, and walked back down the path. He had found a way to be truly useful.
Harbinger nodded, and built up the fire further. Then he entered the house, opening his fur cloak. Haven stepped back from the door and sat down so as to be out of his way. He closed the door behind him, and secured it firmly with a connected thong.
“But Craft will need to get in,” Haven said.
The man just shrugged, standing there.
He still didn’t understand her. So she tried it again, with gestures. “Brother. Craft. Door.”
Harbinger nodded. “Craft. Wood.”
“Yes. We wouldn’t want to lock him out.” She smiled, to indicate that this was humor, though she knew he would not follow the words.
Harbinger lurched forward, crashing into her. One hand pressed against her shoulder, bearing her back and down, while the other caught at her cloak, opening it. He must have fallen. She tried to help him get his support.
Then his face was on hers, for a rough kiss. His chest pressed against hers, pinning her. She felt a hand at her groin, pushing the material roughly aside.
Suddenly she realized what was happening. “No!” she cried. But it was already too late. She tried to push him back, and couldn’t; he had her locked in place. She turned her face away, but that was a useless gesture, as it was not his primary focus.
His firm member found its lodging and pressed hard. She tried to kick her legs, to get out from under, but all that did was spread them wider, opening the access. Her struggles were only facilitating the dread
process. The member shoved on into her, stage by stage as her struggles shifted her posture, painfully distending the channel, until the thing seemed impossibly deep. Almost instantly she felt it pulsing in the center of her body, filling her with its hot fluid. She could do nothing to prevent it. The deed was already done. She had known that this sort of thing happened, but never imagined that it could be so fast.
She relaxed, realizing the futility of further resistance. She had been raped, and that could not be undone. She waited while he faded and subsided and diminished, like a storm abating. She neither moved nor spoke.
Harbinger rolled off her and lay there, breathing heavily, not even trying to cover up his spent groin.
Stunned by the suddenness and force of it, she couldn’t even cry. Instead she asked a stupid question: “Why? Why did you do this to me?” But the answer was obvious: because she was there. He had caught her alone, so he had indulged his desire.
She knew from her brothers that men were always yearning for sex. She had seen them get erections, even as children. They didn’t care what she saw, because she was only their sister, and they were candid about their fascination with the subject. They let her see them masturbate, spurting onto the ground, but said that wasn’t enough. Usually they tried to persuade the better-looking young women of other families to provide sex for them, and sometimes one did encounter an amenable young female.
Haven had watched once when Hero won a youthful game of penalties with a bored neighbor girl, and she had simply hoisted her cloak clear and gotten down on hands and knees, her nascent breasts assuming greater volume, her buttocks thinning and spreading apart. She had let him wedge his stiff member into her cleft from behind, teasing him all the while about his supposed inability to satisfy her. “Can’t you get in any deeper that that, little stick?” It was clear that the maneuver was far more meaningful to him than to the girl, who had done it with others before. Indeed, she was happy to have the other youths watch, so they could see how little it mattered. She said she didn’t see the point in it, because as soon as a boy got hard enough to get into her, he got soft again.