Page 32 of Circle of Days

Joia said: “I asked Seft to come here this morning for a special reason. If, after long discussion, you should decide to ask me to be High Priestess, I would want to rebuild the Monument in stone. If I could not do that, I would not want to be High Priestess.”

She paused to let them take that in.

She resumed: “Ten years ago we were persuaded, by Dallo, that it was impossible. But Seft is not Dallo, and he and I think it is possible to build a stone Monument. If you wish, we will tell you why.”

Some looked dubious but everyone was curious.

Joia noticed one of the older priestesses slipping out, and guessed she had gone to tell Ello what was happening.

Seft said: “I’ve surveyed the territory between Stony Valley and here, and I believe I’ve found the best route for transporting the stones.

Stony Valley is in the North Hills, and we would have to cope with some ups and downs, but we can avoid the steeper hills.

After that there is a stretch of the plain, then we come to Upriver.

From there we travel along the bank of East River, which is flat.

Just before Riverbend we turn onto the plain for the last stretch. ”

This practical talk made the project seem real and possible.

Joia then said: “We estimate that it will take two hundred people to move one of the giant sarsen stones in Stony Valley. Seft naturally asked me where we would get the people.”

At that point Ello walked in.

Joia said smoothly: “I’m so glad you’ve joined us, Second High Priestess. I was about to explain where we would find the necessary people to drag the giant stones for the rebuilding of the Monument.”

“I’d be most interested to know,” said Ello with a hint of sarcasm.

“It’s simple,” Joia said. “We recruit the visitors who come to the Midsummer Rite. We tell them this is a holy mission—which it is—and that the celebrations, including the revel, are being extended for a few more days. They will love the idea. It will appeal particularly to the young—and strong.”

It appealed to the priestesses, too. People liked any kind of expedition. They talked excitedly among themselves for a few moments, then Ello interrupted. “May I say something?” she said. She did not need permission, of course, but she was pretending to feel usurped.

She waited for a reply, so Joia said: “We’re eager to hear what you have to say, as always.” She could be sarcastic too.

Ello said: “I’m remembering the day, ten years ago or more, when Dallo and the cleverhands moved a big stone for the farmer on the other side of the East River.”

Joia remembered it too. Her calculations about moving giant stones from Stony Valley were mostly based on what had happened that day.

Ello went on: “I think I heard you say that the Midsummer Rite festivities would be extended for a few days.”

“Yes.”

“I’m wondering whether a few days will be long enough. It took twenty men all afternoon to move that stone from the middle of the field to the riverbank—about the distance of an arrow’s flight.”

Joia nodded. That was right.

Ello said: “The Stony Valley stones are much bigger, but you hope to have two hundred people to move each one. For the moment, leave aside the question of whether you really can muster two hundred volunteers. Assume that you will move your giant stone at about the same speed as the twenty people moved the farmer’s stone the distance of an arrow shoot.

Now, how many arrow shoots are there between here and Stony Valley?

A hundred? Two hundred? It’s a key question, because the number of arrow shoots is the number of afternoons.

A hundred arrow shoots would take a hundred afternoons, or fifty days. ”

Joia had not done this calculation and she was floored. Could she persuade volunteers to give up fifty days?

But Ello had not finished. “Everyone here knows that the outer timber circle of the Monument consists of thirty upright posts and thirty crossbars. The inner oval is five triliths, which is another fifteen timbers. You are talking about bringing seventy-five giant stones from Stony Valley to the Monument.”

She paused. “You can all do arithmetic, but that calculation may be hard for you, so I’ll tell you. If your two hundred volunteers work nonstop, it will take them three thousand seven hundred and fifty days, or a little more than ten years.”

Joia knew then that she had lost. If it took fifty days to bring one stone, the Monument would never be rebuilt in stone. And now that everyone knew that, she would not be made High Priestess.

The conversation continued among the priestesses, but the issue had been settled. Ello left the building, looking dignified, probably concealing great delight that she had squashed Joia. Soon after that, a defeated Seft took his leave.

Joia spent the rest of the day quietly, doing chores, not talking much, getting used to her downfall. But she continued to worry about how Ello would behave as High Priestess. That problem had not gone away. She decided she would speak to her, and she thought hard about what she could say.

She went to Ello’s house in the late afternoon. Ello was sitting on the leather mat, her eyes red with tears. Joia said: “This is a sad day for all of us.”

Ello said: “What do you want?”

“You’re going to be the High Priestess.”

“Yes.”

“But there’s a problem.”

“What, that you want the position?”

“The problem is your relations with young novices, and what you do in the empty house.”

Ello’s response was indignant. “How dare you?”

Joia shot back: “How dare you ?”

They stared at one another. Ello was the first to look away.

Joia said: “We should care for our young people, not use them for our pleasure. When you are High Priestess, you cannot use the power and prestige of the office to seduce and coerce youngsters. It’s just wrong.”

Ello looked both angry and guilty. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to solemnly promise that you will cease your ways.”

“Oh, very well, if you insist.”

“Don’t say it lightly. I’m going to hold you to it.

From now on, every novice is going to know that she is not obliged to have sex with anyone, even the High Priestess.

I am going to move into the empty house, so there will be nowhere for you to indulge your obsession.

And if you ever break your promise I will reveal it to everyone and hold a meeting to decide what to do about it.

” Joia knew that she could do such a thing, even though she held no official rank: she was still sufficiently popular and revered to wield personal authority.

Ello was furious. “You wicked woman.”

Joia went on remorselessly: “There will be nowhere for you to hide, Ello.”

Ello began to cry. “I’m an ugly old woman,” she sobbed. “No one will love me, now that Soo’s gone.”

Joia did not know what to say to this collapse.

She could fight with Ello, but could not sympathize with her.

She might tell Ello that people would love her if she was nice to them, but that would do no good.

Ello had been set in her ways for decades, and she was not going to change just because Joia told her to.

She said: “I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

“Get out,” said Ello. “I wish you were dead.”

Gida gave instructions for the hunt. “We’re going to lie up in the gap between Little Wood and Alder Wood.

The deer always cross that gap because it’s the shortest way from one wood to the other.

There’s a dip where, if we lie down, we will be invisible to the herd as it approaches.

Now, some of you have not taken part in this hunt before, so let me remind you how we do it.

No talking! Deer can hear well. And most important of all, no pissing or shitting.

A deer can smell a fart a mile away. If you need to go, walk to North Wood.

It’s not far, but the vegetation will keep the stink in. ”

They laughed at that. Gida had a nice touch, Bez thought. She gave orders in a tone that suggested she was just being helpful.

Gida went on: “When the deer come toward us, wait. If you show yourself too soon, they may turn back, and then we won’t get any venison.

We’ve got people on both sides of Little Wood, ready to get behind the deer and scare them.

When that happens, you’ll hear the hoofbeats as they run, heading for the sanctuary of North Wood. But we’ll be waiting for them.”

A young man piped up: “When do we kill them?”

“Leave it as late as possible. When you stand up, the deer will try to veer around you. If you show yourself too soon, they will succeed. The ideal is that they pass you so close that you have a perfect chance to bring them down with an axe or a hammer. Are we ready?”

They were ready.

“And let’s go quietly, please.”

They set off, heading north out of West Wood as the sun sank toward the western edge of the Great Plain, and reached the place where they would hide in the time it took to boil a pot of water.

On Gida’s instructions they spread out in a loose line. Soon it was twilight, the moment the deer would break cover—if Joia’s forecast was right and they were now on the move. If not, nothing would happen.

Bez and his tribe were all very hungry—so hungry that they were talking of eating fish, considered disgusting by herders and farmers as well as woodlanders.

Or they would die. Death was not so bad. It happened to everyone sooner or later. Better not to waste your life worrying about it, as farmers and herders did. Enjoy life while it’s good and accept the end when it comes.

So thought Bez, except when he saw hungry children.

Among the woodlanders, the responsibility for taking care of a child belonged to every adult in the tribe.

Each child was your child, which was sensible as men never knew for sure which children they had sired.

It was one of the very few obligations a woodlander had, and to fail at it brought shame.

Bez was lying flat, staring at the distant wood in the shadowy dusk. Was Joia right? Were the deer on the move today? Soon he would know.

He thought he saw movement, and a few moments later several deer emerged.

Bez knew immediately that they were the small roe deer, not the giant red deer.

They were not much taller than a big dog, and their antlers were small, usually straight with one or two tines.

Bez’s identification was confirmed when one turned around and showed a white rump patch. The red deer did not have that.

Roe deer did not form large herds, preferring to live in small family groups, but Bez could see eight or nine, and he guessed that three families had come together, perhaps by accident, for the migration. This was good enough, and better than nothing by far.

It might have been a problem if another tribe had arrived to share the location. Nine roe deer would provide a feast for one tribe, but a meager dinner for two.

The deer seemed to hesitate, then decide they were on the right track, and they set off across the plain toward where the tribe was hiding.

Someone said: “Here they come!”

Bez hissed: “Quiet!”

Once the beasts got started they walked briskly, not stopping to graze the sparse brown grass. More so than the red deer, they were uncomfortable in open country and preferred dense cover.

As they came nearer, Bez felt the tension in the group, and hoped the deer could not sense it.

Then he heard the dogs, distant but unmistakable. The deer heard them, too, and began to trot, mildly worried but not panicking. They knew they could run faster than dogs.

The beasts were lean, but there was meat on them.

Bez put an arrow to his bow. Just a few moments to go.

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, and before 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.”