During the last ice age, so much water was taken up by the ice sheets that the sea level dropped by as much as four hundred feet. This exposed land in many parts of the world, such as off southeast Asia as we have seen, and between Asia and America. Specifically, between Siberia and Alaska. What is now the shallow Bering Sea was then the broad arctic plain of Beringia. It was cool in summer and frigid in winter, covered with grasses, shrub birch and sedge. Herds of animals migrated across it seasonally, seeking better pastures beyond it. It was bounded gradually on the west by Siberia and abruptly on the east by mountainous ice. The ice was an effective barrier; there is no evidence that mankind or other creatures crossed it in either direction until it melted, ending the ice age.
It is an irony that the same time that Beringia was open so that it could be crossed, the ice was thickest, so that it could not be crossed. When the ice receded, the sea advanced. So for 50,000 years there was always a barrier, either of water or ice, except for one time, 11,000 years ago, when there was an avenue of opportunity that allowed mankind to pass through and colonize America. But that’s a later story. This one is about life on Beringia itself, 20,000 years ago. The setting is that part of Beringia that touched what are now the Aleutian Islands that trail off southwest of Alaska. The Cordilleran ice sheet covered the mountains of south Alaska, extending down the Aleutians, so that for a time that seeming wall of ice reached well beyond mainland Alaska, and became the border of Beringia itself. The land north was actually clear of ice all the way to the Arctic Ocean. This was not because it was warmer—it was cold enough—but because there was not enough moisture there to sustain a glacier. Thus there was the seeming anomaly of land to the north, and ice to the south. It was essentially an east-west barrier, not a north-south barrier. In the summer it might have melted back a little, forming fissures and drainage channels, and in winter it would have frozen again to its former extent. That marginal flow should have encouraged vegetation at the fringe, attracting grazing animals. There could have been an enduring human residence there, but for the purpose of this story it is assumed that there were only occasional explorations.
Keeper gazed at the wall of ice. It was huge and ugly, with patches of dirt and sand embedded, irregularly reaching toward the land. The edge was slushy, for the daylight sun melted it. But it froze again at night, as far as it could, and the war between sun and ice continued. Keeper was fascinated by the slow dynamic interaction.
“Ugh,” Crenelle said. “Now we’ve seen it; can we go?”
She did not share his interest. He knew he ought to seek a woman who was more compatibly inclined. But he adored Crenelle, and had to try to win her. She was beautiful and healthy and infinitely appealing, and she was close, because of a family connection. She had given him his first experience of sex, and of love, and even if it wasn’t returned, he was bound.
“But this is different,” he argued. “So much ice, extending so far beyond anything we know. Don’t you want to see the far side of it?”
“I don’t even want to see this side of it,” she retorted. “It’s the ugliest thing I’ve seen.”
He glanced at her. Perhaps it made sense that a woman as lovely as Crenelle should hate ugliness. Her appearance was a stark contrast to that of the ice. Even bundled in her bison hide shirt and pants, she was esthetic. The only match for her in beauty was his sister Rebel, the same age. But in other respects the two were quite different.
“If we found a way around it, there might be good land,” Keeper said.
“And there might not.” She turned her head. “What do you think, Hero?”
“I’m not smart enough to think,” Hero said affably. “My brothers do it better.”
Hero was a nice guy. He was powerful, but gentle with people. And despite his claim, not stupid. He knew that Keeper wanted the company of Crenelle—wanted, in fact, to marry her—so he had agreed to come on this day of exploration.
Because Crenelle’s interest was in Hero. In fact, Crenelle had met Hero first, and had sex with him, but then wouldn’t marry him because he wouldn’t announce that he had raped her. It was evident that she still would like to marry him, but Hero’s attitude hadn’t changed; he would neither rape her nor say he had. So though Keeper knew that Hero found the woman just as fascinating as Keeper did, Hero would not touch her. Instead he tried to facilitate things for his little brother. So he had come on this exploration, thus tacitly persuading Crenelle to come too, giving Keeper that extra chance.
“You never try to take anything from your brothers,” Crenelle complained. She was surely aware of the reason Hero had come, but she was caught in much the way Keeper was: If she wanted his company, it had to be on his terms.
“Or my sister,” Hero agreed affably.
“She got my brother.”
They laughed, but there was an edge to it. Their sister Rebel had indeed married Crenelle’s brother Harbinger, and the two seemed well satisfied. But that made it more evident that Crenelle herself had not married any of the brothers, despite coming close more than once. Yet that business about rape was a problem for all of them; they didn’t believe in it. If Crenelle had softened enough on that point, she could have had any of the three.
Meanwhile, Keeper was studying the edge of the ice. “Look at that,” he said.
“What, more ice?” Crenelle inquired disdainfully.
“A mammoth print!” he said, excited.
She frowned. “All I see is slush.”
Hero looked, his hunter’s eye quickly deciphering the obscure mark. “You’re right. In fact, there’s an occasional mammoth path here.”
“Yes. He must come here to chew the ice when he’s thirsty. A lone bull, big.”
“How can you tell?” Crenelle asked, her disdain fading. She knew that discovery of a mammoth was a significant event.
“By the size of the foot. Only a male could be this big.”
“And a bit lame,” Hero said. “Which is why he comes here instead of trekking to the water hole to the north.”
“He’s getting old,” Keeper agreed. “I think we can take him.”
Crenelle shook her head. “All this you know—from a single indistinct print?”
Both men turned looks of feigned surprise on her. “Of course,” Hero said. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Keeper saw her stiffen with anger, realizing that they were teasing her, but immediately stifle it. She was trying to entice Hero, not quarrel with him. If only she felt that way about Keeper!
They returned to the camp. The three dogs bounded out to meet them, tails wagging. They had been left behind, because it was hard to explore anything quietly with canine company. The other family members were there too, preparing for the evening meal. Haven had a big pot of boiling horse meat, while Rebel twisted tufts of waste sedge into knots for the fire. The main sedge stems made good baskets, and mats for sleeping on, but there was always dry refuse. There was so little of anything on this bare plain that they had to make do with whatever offered.
“We found a mammoth,” Crenelle said.
Craft raised an eyebrow. “Do you have it in your pack?” He was working on an arrow, shaping the split end to hold a stone point firmly.
“No, she must have eaten the whole thing already,” Harbinger said. “It’s a wonder she isn’t fatter than she is.”
“A print. By the ice,” Crenelle said. She was by no means fat, which was why they teased her about it.
Interest grew. “Mammoth meat would be good, after all the horse and bison we’ve been chewing,” Rebel said. She glanced at Keeper, knowing that he was the expert on this. “Is it huntable?”
“I think so,” Keeper said. “It is large and old and lame, and alone. Such a creature is never a sure hunt, but if we plan well, we may succeed.”
“What’s it doing by the ice?” Rebel asked.
“The grass grows better there, because of the water from the melt, and maybe the dirt it dumps down. But mainly for the ice it can chew for d
rinking. It’s as good as a water hole. So it has all it needs right there close by, and doesn’t have to travel much. He’s probably not far off, maybe in an alcove in the ice.”
“So we can locate it without much trouble,” Craft said. “And drive it against the ice, instead of having to entirely encircle him.”
Harbinger shook his head. “Mammoth aren’t like horses. It’ll retreat only so far. Then it’ll charge. That’s mischief.”
“We’ll have to organize carefully,” Craft said. “Select our terrain, drive him as far as we can, then use arrows, thrown spears, and finally stabbing spears. Better if we can prepare a covered pit, but he’s probably too wary for that.”
Haven looked up. “You speak as though we’ll hunt him just ourselves. Four men can’t kill a mammoth.”
“The main tribe is two days’ march distant,” Craft reminded her. “If we want that mammoth, we’ll have to take him ourselves. There’s a lot we could do with it. Meat for a month, tusks to carve, bones to build a house with. If Keeper thinks we can handle it—”
“I’m not sure,” Keeper said quickly. “A bull mammoth’s unpredictable. It might be too much for us by ourselves. Four men—”
“And three women,” Rebel reminded him.
“I don’t want you getting trampled by an elephant!” Harbinger said.
“Oh, pooh! We’re not going to run under its feet, you know.”
“But when it charges—”
“Maybe Keeper should study it some more,” Haven said. “To make sure it’s not too much for us. We don’t want to lose any people.”
“Good idea,” Craft agreed. “Meanwhile I can prepare heavy arrows.”
“And a heavy bow,” Hero said. “The farther we can stand from that creature, the better off we’ll be.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Craft said. He glanced at Keeper. “So why don’t you same three go out tomorrow and track the mammoth, and we’ll prepare for the hunt here.”
Keeper appreciated that. Craft had had his turn at Crenelle, and lost her, just as Hero had. He still liked her, just as Hero did. But he regarded it as Keeper’s turn. If Keeper failed, then the matter would be open for reconsideration.
“I feel as if I am being herded,” Crenelle muttered.
“You don’t have to go,” Keeper told her.
She flashed him a smile. “I am my own woman. I will go. It isn’t as if you are inferior. Just young for me.”
He was eighteen and she was nineteen. He couldn’t change that. She was the only woman he would ever want. He would accept her company on whatever basis she allowed.
So it was decided. They settled down to their meal of horse meat, and to their sod shelters for sleep. Harbinger and Rebel shared a shelter, and Haven and Crenelle were together, and the three brothers had the third. The dogs curled up together wherever they chose. When one of the brothers finally married Crenelle, they would make another shelter for two.
When one married her. Keeper thought about that every night, wishing he could be the one. Had she married either of his elder brothers, he would have had no such dreams, for the three of them did not impinge on the privileges of the others. But neither relationship had worked out, so now she was his for the taking—if only he could take her. Theoretically she would be his if he raped her, but he could no more do that than his brothers could. There had to be some other way. If only he could think of it.
As if tuning into his thoughts, she appeared, or rather her voice did, in the dusk that passed for night. In the summer the sun never quite set; it just hovered above the horizon as if reluctant to depart. So Crenelle had no trouble walking across. It was a nightly ritual. “I don’t suppose any of you men have changed your mind?”
How he wanted to answer! But he couldn’t. It was Hero who did: “Nobody’s going to rape you, Crenelle.”
“Not even token?”
“Not even token,” Craft said.
“Are you sure?”
It was Keeper’s turn. “Yes,” he said, wishing it were otherwise.
“Think of the joy your sister is giving my brother at this moment. I could give similar joy to you, if you just had the gumption to take it.”
“I know it,” Keeper agreed. How he longed to have that joy of her!
She departed silently. Keeper wondered if his brothers were as regretful as he was. He thought they were.
Next day the three of them packed cuts of horse meat and tools and set out for the ice. Keeper was glad Crenelle was coming, though he knew it was still for Hero rather than for him. But if he could somehow win her, he knew she would be true to him thereafter. She was a good woman, perfect for a wife. Just with that one thing about how a marriage should be made. She wanted to be taken, violently. She seemed less certain than she had been, but still she hadn’t softened enough to yield on that matter. Otherwise there would have been a marriage long ago.
It was a fair trek across the tundra, and a dull one. The ground was almost level, with sections of shallow swamp with tussocks. No plant rose above knee height. The seven of them were able to survive here only by hunting the large animals that trekked across in quest of better grazing elsewhere. Now and then they started a rabbit or a bird. Meanwhile clouds of black flies accompanied them. All of them wore a tonic Keeper had squeezed from certain herbs, that discouraged flies and mosquitoes. Otherwise life here would have been unbearable.
“Let’s play a game,” Crenelle suggested. She was clearly bored, and she did not take boredom lightly, any more than Rebel did. “A contest, and a prize. Whoever spies the first sure sign of the mammoth being close by—what would that be?”
“Fresh dung,” Keeper said.
“Fresh dung. Whoever spies that wins a kiss from me. Agreed?”
She was trying to get Hero to kiss her. But Keeper would have an equal chance. “Agreed,” he said for both of them.
“And whoever first spies the mammoth itself, wins me for the night. One night only, no obligation.” She paused. “Agreed?”
And she wanted to have sex with Hero, hoping to persuade him to marry her, her way. She was very good with sex, as they both knew. Such a night would be persuasive indeed. But again, Keeper had an even chance. “Agreed.”
Hero was silent. “That binds you both?” she asked, making sure of the bargain. She didn’t want a contest only Keeper could win.
“Agreed,” Hero finally mumbled.
“And you will really look?” she persisted.
There was a pause, but an answer had to be made. “Yes.”
“One would think the prize was not worthwhile,” she said, affecting dismay. She well understood the reason for Hero’s reluctance: that he wanted to be fair to his brother. The real contest was between her need to be raped, once, and their need never to treat any woman that way. Her need to have it bruited about, and their need never to be accused of any such thing. Eventually one side or the other would break down and give way to a sufficient extent. But at this point, none of them knew which side that would be. Rebel had found a way around it, with Harbinger, but Crenelle evidently didn’t care for that.
She must have been pondering the same question, for she came up with an answer. “And whoever kills the mammoth can demand any favor of any of the others, and the other must agree. Any favor at all.”
This was especially interesting. Did she mean that the winner could require that she marry him without rape? Or was that something other than a favor, by her definition? And why did she say “any of the others,” rather than just her?
Keeper had to ask. “You are the prize for the first two. Do you mean that someone else might be the prize for the third?”
“There is something I could not openly agree to,” she said, “so I won’t say it. So I make it more general. Maybe there is something you really want your brother to do.”
Now Hero spoke. “Suppose I won—and asked you to marry my brother?”
She was silent for a time. Keeper could appreciate why. Hero, not known for cl
everness, had nevertheless come up with the hole in her offer. She was hoping to get Hero, by having him win her without rape, but she might wind up with Keeper regardless of who won.
Finally she spoke. “I was thinking of a favor for the winner, not a favor done for someone else. I think it would have to be direct.”
And she had found a repair for the hole. Her reasoning seemed fair enough. And of course if Hero won, he would not have to require her to marry him. He might simply ask for another kiss. So it wasn’t tight. But if Hero won, it might indeed seem that he had a right to take her. Ultimately, she had to go to the man she wanted to go to. Anything else would be like another form of rape. So while Keeper desperately wanted to win her, he saw that this was not the way. Which meant that if he won, he would have to ask some other favor.
“Agreed?” she prompted.
“Agreed,” Keeper said.
Then, after a pause, Hero agreed also.
They reached the mottled wall of ice. Once again Keeper marveled that such a thing existed. How huge it was! Where was the end of it? Was this the end of the world? Where it got too cold for land, and turned to ice? So there might be nothing beyond it. Yet there was the sea, and it went on past the ice. How he longed to explore that!
“I just thought of something,” Crenelle said. “Suppose I spy the turd, or the beast? What prize do I get?”
“Then you get to keep what you have found,” Hero said.
Keeper bit his tongue to keep from laughing. His brother had scored again.
“Thank you so much for your generosity,” the woman said, making a noise as if spitting out something distasteful. “There’s nothing I’d rather have than a fresh mammoth turd.”