The Cleft Read online

  But the old woman screamed because she was so close to these Monsters, although they were wearing feathers and leaves from their waists, concealing what she feared. The young Clefts, screaming, ran off down the mountain towards their shore, and so the Old She was abandoned, with the angry eagles so close all around her on their tall rocks, and the boys, her enemies. Who now did something unexpected, seeing that she was the enemy. They conferred, standing there in a group, still gazing after the girls who were by now far away running towards their shore. Close by was an old tree, and it had shed some branches. The boys pulled a large dead branch to the old woman, dragged her on to it, then pulled her back down the mountainside, while she shrieked and complained. The eagles kept them company, floating immediately overhead. The Old Female was clinging on to the branch, bouncing up and down over rough places and stones. She cried and whimpered, and once did fall off and had to be lifted back on. It took all the boys’ strength to get her down to the level of the Killing Rock. There they left her and went back up the mountain to their valley.

  The girls currently visiting the boys asked why they had gone to the rescue of the Old She. They seemed surprised they were asked. ‘But she was crying,’ they explained at last.

  Now it had to be remembered that the boys never let the babies cry. A noisy or weeping little Monster made the older ones quite frantic. All the Clefts had to remember how the first Monsters screamed when the Clefts tormented and teased them – and worse. What were they remembering when one of the babes yelled?

  ‘She was making such a noise …’ said the boys. Then, ‘She was upsetting the baby eagles.’ ‘Yes, the baby eagles were frightened.’

  These explanations came first, then came what seemed to be the real reason. ‘Those Clefts, they were just stupid, letting the Old One cry. It was so easy: we just put her on the branch and pulled her down and that was that. The Clefts never thought of it.’

  The fact that the Old She reached the rock bruised and even bloodied did not concern the boys. What mattered was their achievement, and one that showed up the stupidity of the Clefts.

  The episode became ‘Silly Clefts. They didn’t know what to do to rescue the Old One.’

  About now began records of how the Clefts discussed the boys, always on the lines of ‘But why did they do that? They do such funny things, the boys.’

  We are talking about only some of the Clefts, the friends of Maire and Astre; others shuddered when they mentioned the inhabitants of the valley.

  It was established that the boys were ‘silly’, were clumsy.

  But we have not finished with the Old She who had wanted to see for herself. The bumps and bruises took time to heal, and she did not forgive the girls who ran away leaving her, as she saw it, to the mercy of her enemy. These girls taunted the others who went to the valley and mated with the Squirts and though, one after another, they changed and became like the others, ‘Maire’s girls’, there was hostility and many incidents of spitefulness that were recorded in the annals.

  The other Old Females were not mentioned: it was only the instigator of the trip up the mountain. We may make what we can of this. And it was this Old Female who made the plan which could have destroyed not only the Squirts, or most of them, but also a lot of the girls. Not immediately. First, that slow old brain had to deal with the fact that the girls ran away down the mountain because they feared to be raped. Although Maire had tried to explain what she believed the ‘Monsters’ were for, their possible function as progenitors, the Old Ones did not take that in. And it was hard for them. First, the advent of the Monsters had caused the new children, disliked and feared by all the old Clefts. And then the ‘rapes’ caused both baby Clefts and baby Monsters. The baby Clefts were Clefts, whether ‘difficult’ or not, and the Monsters were the same as those she had seen on the top of the mountain, people, and not Clefts, behind their skirts of feathers and leaves.

  Very interesting it is, what people can take in and what they can’t. In the Old Females it was because they couldn’t. A new, quicker mind had been born into that community of shore-dwelling females, together with the tincture of maleness. The old, slow, suspicious mind understood one simple fact: everything that had happened to change the old ways, caused such division and malice between the different parts of the Clefts, was because of the Monsters. It was as simple as that: the Monsters were the enemy. And now they had to be got rid of.

  The Old She sent one of her girls to tell Maire to come and see her. She sent nods and smiles to Maire who was sitting in the mouth of her cave. Maire merely nodded back. She was in no hurry to go. She did not want to seem obedient to the Old Females, whom she suspected of wishing (and plotting) harm.

  Maire was with the New One and some children. A lot of people were watching to see if she was going at once to the Old She. Maire was consoling the babes, as always fretting noisily. Down on the rocks by the sea the girls who supported the Old Shes lay about, half in and half out of the water. They looked up at Maire and hated her. Maire was responsible for the divided tribe, the bad temper of the Old Shes, the new demanding babies. And from the rocks above the caves were some boys watching too. Maire could not make sense of their being there and her alarm, already strong, was strengthened. She was afraid for them, just as she was these days for the safety of the new children.

  It could not be said that maternal feelings were strong in those early females. It was recent, that children were precious, full of promise or threat.

  She thought a good deal about the children and, too, about the boys in the valley. What she felt was, in fact, pity, a tender protectiveness, though these ideas – and the words – were not available to her. Those poor Monsters, the poor boys, she was so sorry for them. What she felt for them was the equivalent of putting her arms round them and holding them safe – as she did with the New One. She and her band of girls lived in these tall, airy caves, with their clean sandy floors, and outside the great fires they had learned from the boys to build and keep burning, they who were so skilled at making and tending their fires. Those poor Monsters lived in their sheds and shelters, which were always full of rubbish and smelled bad, because they simply did not have the knack of keeping order. There they were on the very edge of the great forest from where at any moment (and this had happened much more than once) a beast could leap out and grab a babe or even a half-grown boy. She thought of the poor Squirts, and meanwhile kept an eye on the boys clustering on the tops of the hills above the shore. She was thinking: keep out of sight, fools – don’t you know you are in danger?

  Now Maire, at her leisure, rose, telling the children she would soon be back, and walked down to the Old Females.

  And now, dear Roman reader, what do you see in your mind’s eye, watching Maire on her descent? But I’ll tell you, you will be seeing what is in my mind now, our minds, full with images of our goddesses. My father’s best slave, bought for a high price because of his skills, knew how to make copies of loved statues. In the olive grove near our house was a statue of Diana, my father’s favourite. There she was, in her little frisking skirt, holding the bow of gilded wood my father used to joke would not be able to bring down a sparrow. And at the junction of our road with the main road stood Artemis, not made by our slave, but he copied it, smaller, and the copy was in the olive grove too. I see a tall, graceful female, with her elegant little head, her knot of gleaming hair, bound by a silver fillet whose ends flutter in the sea breeze, released from the rigidity of metal by our imaginations. Her robe, of gentlest linen, floats about her. Her sandalled feet step lightly among the stones of the shore. She is smiling. We all know the goddess smile, promising our protection now and for ever. It is not possible to imagine anything that could banish Artemis, or for that matter pretty Diana, from their positions in our hearts. For ever will our smiling goddesses stand on guard against all the perils that confront us.

  But those who watched Maire walking down from her cave mouth saw nothing like this. We do not know what the Clefts
looked like. We do not know what this Cleft, this female, the first ever to give birth to a babe carrying the blood of both Clefts and Squirts, the first of a new race, ours, humans, was like in build, height, bearing.

  We can make a safe guess Maire was no slim girl, no Diana. These first people on the shore: they probably were sea creatures once. But all of them, the Clefts, were in sea water as much as they were out of it. It was not unknown for them to sleep rocking on gentle waves, arms afloat, their faces turned up to the sky. They swam – well, like fishes or sea beasts. It is safe to say they were stocky in build, with heavy shoulders and arms, big thighs and muscular working buttocks. Sea creatures carry a useful layer of fat. Maire would have had strong white teeth: they ate raw fish, biting the flesh off the bones. To come on a group of Clefts squatting over a catch of fish, biting and gnawing, it would have been easy at first glance to think them seals or porpoises. This female, Maire, our first mother ancestor, whose name was for the moon, had large soft breasts full of milk: we know this from the very first oral records we have from the Squirts, the males, who loved the Clefts’ big milky breasts.

  This squat, solid, healthy female reached the Old Shes lying out on their rocks like stranded fish, and she smiled and said, ‘There are things we need to talk about’ – taking the initiative away from them. Maire knew she was in danger: the smell and tension of threat was strong. She knew there was a plot of some kind. If she, Maire, wanted to get rid of, let’s say, Astre and girls loyal to them, then what would she do? It would be necessary to trick them into some deep pool, and then get the Old Females’ girls to drown them, pulling them under. Not easy, no; since everyone swam so well. But it would be necessary to take the victims by surprise.

  Maire half expected what she would hear next. The Old Ones wanted Maire and Astre to take both ‘their’ girls, and the ones allied to them, the Old Ones, away for a trip.

  And now Maire heard the bones of the plot. They would make an expedition along the shore to a certain beach to gather clams, and then to another beach, to get supplies of a certain seaweed. So, she was right: Maire’s nerves had already told her. At some point she, Astre and the girls who were their friends would be enticed into the sea and killed.

  Meanwhile, all this time, on the rocky hills, the visiting boys still hung about, watching. ‘Why were they there?’ ‘How had they been got there?’ A couple of the great eagles floated above the boys, watching: they knew there was danger, and Maire waved at the boys, ignoring the Old Females, meaning, ‘Go; leave. Why do you think the eagles are up there?’ The boys waved back: they had not understood.

  Maire told the old women that the trip would provide the giant clams and seaweed, and went back up to her cave, full of worry: she simply could not understand what the boys were doing up there.

  Astre and a friend were making up their fire for the night.

  The boys were there, so dangerously close – because it was some time since girls had gone to the valley. No Monsters had been born recently. What does that ‘recently’ mean? We don’t know. How much I do admire us Romans’ careful way with measurement and time, when wrestling to understand old chronicles of people who never thought: A month ago, In a week’s time … Once … When …

  Perhaps the Old Shes thought that maybe there would not be any more Monsters born. An appropriate kind of thought for their slow old minds: ‘If no Monsters born recently then perhaps there won’t be any more.’

  Very well: some things were clear. The Old Ones wanted Maire and Astre to go right away, with their allies, the new kind of babes and children, and the Old Females’ girls would go too. They planned to get rid of the new people who had new thoughts and who gave birth to the new children. Then the rule of the Old Shes would be unchallenged and there would be no more girls like Maire and Astre, and no ‘new ones’.

  Why were the boys up there on the rocks of the hills?

  They did not like being too close to the Clefts’ shore, and were afraid of the Old Females.

  This seemed to Maire like a warning in itself; if she knew why the boys were there she would understand what the threats were. Of course, she could ask one of ‘her’ girls to ask one of the Old Females’ girls what was afoot. That is, what was planned for the boys: she knew or was pretty sure what was intended for them, the girls.

  The truth was that an Old She – the adventurous one – had ordered her girls to entice the boys down to the cliffs above the shore, but her plan – to destroy the boys – had so far misfired.

  An excursion to the big-clam beach would take several days, plenty of time for occasions to drown Maire and Astre and their babes, and their allied girls. It was the simplicity of this plan that had to be admired. But the rest of the Old Ones’ intentions were dark indeed. It was not possible for the Old Ones’ girls to harm the boys, who were much faster runners and could defend themselves with sticks and stones. Bows and arrows too, these days. A direct fight could only end in victory for the boys, particularly as the boys’ allies, the eagles who watched over them, would fight on their side.

  Maire, Astre and their followers talked it all over and came to no conclusion. If they did get one of the Old Shes’ girls to come and talk to them, the Old Females would know their plans were suspected. It would be easy to entice a girl up to Maire’s cave. There was no absolute division between the obedient girls and the rebels. After all, Maire’s and Astre’s allies had once been followers of the Old Shes. Many of the obedient ones had come to Maire’s cave to ask what was so attractive about the Monsters. Some had gone to the valley to find out for themselves. So long did the clam gatherers’ party delay their departure that the Old Shes sent a message to ask what was keeping them.

  We do not know how many Clefts set off together, only that their children went with them. As they walked along the edge of the sea they knew they were being spied on: one of the Old Shes’ girls kept pace with them, hiding in the rocks. That meant it was not possible to do what they had planned, which was to walk until nightfall, when they could creep back towards their shore in the dark, and find some high place where they could watch what was happening. The Old Shes’ girls would report back to them.

  Next day the party dawdled and delayed, keeping the children with them, and then they saw that nearly all the hostile girls had disappeared in the night. From this Maire and Astre realised that the plan to dispose of them and their children was not the primary one.

  Maire, Astre and some others waited until dark, then made their way to a low hill from where they could see their own shore and, on the near side, the Killing Rock, and the great cliff where there was the pit where once girls had been thrown as sacrifices.

  This place, once honoured for its associations with killing and presumably a deity of some kind, made Maire think hard about what she knew about it. Not much. The tall hill or peak, perhaps volcanic in origin, had on its seaward side The Cleft, where the red flowers flowed, in its season. The Cleft was the deity, we believe now, matching and echoing the red flow of the Clefts, associated as it was with the moon. When we look back into the origin of our gods, it is not always easy to say specifically what was divine. We do not expect to climb up the slopes of Mount Olympus! Or to see Venus step up out of the waves!

  But this Cleft had about it an air of dread, of fear, although its top was not even hard to reach. On the seaward side was The Cleft and the cave from where it was possible to look through cracks and crevices to see the skeletons, the skulls, the white dust of the bones. But on the other side a path wound gently up. At the very top was a flattish rim, but inside this rim was a platform, where so many girls had stood trembling before they had been flung down into the ossuary. More than the odours of decay rose up from the depths. There were vapours that at first confused and then anaesthetised the girls, who were unconscious when they were pushed down. The reason why we, the males, believed this practice had ceased was precisely because Maire and Astre and their allies did not think of this place when they puzzled over what t
he Old Ones were planning. It is probable that it was so long since sacrifices had happened there that everyone had forgotten it.

  When the light came they could see a wide sweep from the plains of the sea to the mountain that led to the boys’ valley. Nothing was moving. Far away on their shore tiny spots and dots showed that not all the girls had set off on the clam gathering. A couple of eagles swung in their circles over the mountain. And then, but not until midday, a group of the enemy girls came from their rocks, slowly enough, taking their time, and paused on the Killing Rock, as if unwilling to go on. How many? The word used was ‘several’. Slowly they left the Rock, and slowly went to the foot of the mountain. There they began to climb. None of these girls had been before to the valley, though some had accompanied the Old She who had wanted to see for herself. They had been too occupied supporting the Old One, calming her, to notice much of the way. They were very slow in their progress up the mountain, possibly because the eagles were screaming at them. When they reached the top they stood there, looking down at the valley with its frightening river. Why were they lingering there? From the valley came whoops and shouts, and in a moment the boys were up there too. The girls were shaking their breasts and performing enticing movements with their hips, which were probably being used for the very first time. Now at last it was clear that the Old Ones, or one of them, had understood what Maire had told them. The girls had been told to attract the Squirts, to lure them. But for what end?