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Everyone seemed to take Crozie’s interruption as a signal for general comment, and with a knowing look passing between them, Talut and Tulie allowed the outburst to run its course. Sometimes people needed to speak their minds. During the interruption, Tulie caught Barzec’s eye and after things quieted down, he stepped forward and requested the Staff. Tulie nodded agreement, as though she knew what he was going to say although they had not spoken to each other.
“Crozie is right,” he said, nodding toward her. She stood up straighter, accepting the acknowledgment, and her opinion of Barzec rose. “Babies do take room, much more room than one would think from their size. Perhaps it is time for some changes, but I don’t think the Mammoth Hearth should give up space. The needs of the Crane Hearth are growing, but the needs of the Aurochs Hearth are less. Tarneg has gone to live at the Camp of his woman, and soon he will be starting a new Camp with Deegie. Then she will be gone, too. Therefore, the Hearth of the Aurochs, understanding the needs of a growing family, will give up some space to the Hearth of the Crane.”
“Is that satisfactory to you, Frebec?” Talut asked.
“Yes,” Frebec replied, hardly knowing how to respond to this unexpected turn of events.
“Then I will leave it to you to work out together how much space will be given by the Aurochs Hearth, but I think it is only fair that no changes be made until after Fralie has her baby. Do you agree?”
Frebec nodded, still overwhelmed. At his former Camp, he wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for more space; if he had, he would have been laughed at. He didn’t have the prerogative, the status, to make such requests. When the argument with Crozie began, space wasn’t on his mind at all. He had just been groping for some way to respond to her stinging, though true, accusations. Now, he was convincing himself that lack of space had been the reason all along for the argument, and for once, she had taken his side. He felt the thrill of success. He had won a battle. Two battles: one with the Camp, one with Crozie. As the people dispersed, he saw Barzec talking with Tulie, and it occurred to him that he owed them thanks.
“I appreciate your understanding,” Frebec said to the headwoman and the man of the Aurochs Hearth.
Barzec made the customary disclaimers, but they would not have been pleased if Frebec had failed to acknowledge the accommodation made to him. They knew full well the value of their concession went far beyond a few feet of space. It announced that the Crane Hearth had the status to merit such a grant from the hearth of the headwoman, though it was the status of Crozie and Fralie that they had in mind when Tulie and Barzec had previously discussed a shift in boundary between themselves. The
y had already anticipated the changing needs of the two families. Barzec had even considered bringing up the issue earlier, but Tulie suggested they wait for a more appropriate moment, perhaps as a gift for the baby.
They both knew this was the moment. It had taken no more than looks and nods to signal each other. And since Frebec had just won a nominal victory, the Crane Hearth was bound to be conciliatory about adjusting the boundary. Barzec had just been remarking with pride how wise Tulie was when Frebec approached to make his thanks. As Frebec walked back to the Crane Hearth, he savored the incident, tallying up the points he felt he had won, just as though it had been one of the games the Camp liked to play, and he was counting his winnings.
In a very real sense, it was a game, the very subtle and entirely serious game of comparative rank which is played by all social animals. It is the method by which individuals arrange themselves—horses in a herd, wolves in a pack, people in a community—so that they can live together. The game pits two opposing forces against each other, both equally important to survival: individual autonomy and community welfare. The object is to achieve dynamic equilibrium.
At times and under certain conditions individuals can be nearly autonomous. An individual can live alone and have no worry about rank, but no species can survive without interaction between individuals. The ultimate price would be more final than death. It would be extinction. On the other hand, complete individual subordination to the group is just as devastating. Life is neither static nor unchanging. With no individuality, there can be no change, no adaptation and, in an inherently changing world, any species unable to adapt is also doomed.
Humans in a community, whether it is as small as two people or as large as the world, and no matter what form the society takes, will arrange themselves according to some hierarchy. Commonly understood courtesies and customs can help to smooth the friction and ease the stress of maintaining a workable balance within this constantly changing system. In some situations most individuals will not have to compromise much of their personal independence for the welfare of the community. In others, the needs of the community may demand the utmost personal sacrifice of the individual, even to life itself. Neither is more right than the other, it depends on the circumstances; but neither extreme can be maintained for long, nor can a society last if a few people exercise their individuality at the expense of the community.
Ayla often found herself comparing Clan society with that of the Mamutoi, and began to get a glimmer of this principle as she thought about the different styles of leadership of Brun and the Lion Camp’s headman and headwoman. She saw Talut return the Speaking Staff to its customary place and recalled that when she first arrived at the Mamutoi Camp, she thought that Brun was a better leader than Talut. Brun would have simply made a decision and the others would have followed his order, whether they liked it or not. Not many would even consider questioning whether they liked it or not. Brun never had to argue or shout. A sharp look or a curt command brought instant attention. It had seemed to her that Talut had no control over the noisy, contentious people, and that they had no respect for him.
Now she wasn’t so sure. It seemed to her that it was more difficult to lead a group of people who believed everyone, woman and man, had the right to speak out and be listened to. She still thought Brun had been a good leader for his society, but she wondered if he could have led these people who aired their views so freely. It could become very loud and noisy when everyone had an opinion and did not hesitate to make it known, but Talut never allowed it to go beyond certain bounds. Though he was certainly strong enough to have forced his will on people, he chose to lead by consensus and accommodation instead. He had certain sanctions and beliefs to call upon, and techniques of his own to get attention, but it took a different kind of strength to persuade rather than coerce. Talut gained respect by giving respect.
As Ayla walked toward a knot of people standing near the firepit, she glanced around the hearth looking for the wolf puppy. It was a subliminal gesture, and when she didn’t see him she assumed he had found some place to hide during the commotion.
“ … Frebec certainly got his way,” Tornec was saying, “thanks to Tulie and Barzec.”
“For Fralie’s sake, I’m glad,” Tronie said, relieved to know the Reindeer Hearth would not be pushed over or squeezed. “I just hope it will keep Frebec quiet for a while. He really started a big fight this time.”
“I don’t like big fights like that,” Ayla said, remembering that the fight had started over Frebec’s complaint that her animals had more room than he did.
“Don’t let it bother you,” Ranec said. “It’s been a long winter. Something like that happens around this time every year. It’s just a little diversion to create some excitement.”
“But he wouldn’t have had to make such a fuss to get more room,” Deegie said. “I heard mother and Barzec talking about it long before he brought it up. They were going to give space to the Crane Hearth as a gift for Fralie’s baby. All Frebec needed to do was ask.”
“That’s why Tulie is such a good headwoman,” Tronie said. “She thinks of things like that.”
“She is good, and so is Talut,” Ayla said.
“Yes, he is.” Deegie smiled. “That’s why he is still headman. No one stays leader for long if he can’t command the respect of his people. I think Branag will be as good. He had Talut to learn from.” The warm feelings between Deegie and her mother’s brother went deeper than the formal avuncular relationship that, along with the status and inheritance from her mother, assured the young woman of a high standing among the Mamutoi.
“But who would become leader instead, if Talut didn’t have respect?” Ayla asked. “And how?”
“Well … ah …” Deegie began. Then the young people turned to Mamut to answer her question.
“If it is the old former leaders turning over active leadership to a younger brother and sister, who have been selected—usually relatives—there is a period of learning, then a ceremony, then the older leaders become advisers,” the shaman and teacher said.
“Yes. That’s what Brun did. When he was younger, he respected old Zoug and paid attention to his advice, and when he got older, he turned the leadership over to Broud, the son of his mate. But what happens if a Camp loses respect for a leader? A young leader?” Ayla asked, very interested.
“The change would not happen quickly,” Mamut said, “but people just would not turn to him after a while. They would go to someone else, someone who could lead a more successful hunt, or handle problems better. Sometimes the leadership is relinquished, sometimes a Camp just breaks up, with some going with the new leader, and some staying with the old. But leaders don’t usually give up their positions or authority easily, and that can cause problems, even fights. Then the decision would get turned over to the Councils. The headman or headwoman who has shared leadership with someone who causes trouble, or is held responsible for a problem, is seldom able to start up a new Camp, though it may not be her”—Mamut hesitated, and Ayla noticed that his eyes darted toward the old woman of the Crane Hearth, who was talking to Nezzie—“that person’s fault. People want leaders they can depend on, and distrust those who have had problems … or tragedies.”
Ayla nodded, and Mamut knew she understood, both what he had said and what he had implied. The conversation continued, but Ayla’s mind had wandered back to the Clan. Brun had been a good leader, but what would his clan do if Broud was not? She wondered if they would turn to a new leader, and who it might be. It would be a long time before the son of Broud’s mate was old enough. A persistent worry that had been nagging for her attention suddenly broke through.
