The Mantooth

  Sometimes these responses troubled her, and she felt called upon tocorrect his deficiencies in perspective and defend her race. But atother times his naive and disbelieving comments cut frighteningly closeto the truth. He accepted and took for granted none of the vastpretenses and self-important doctrines in which humanity clothed itself,and was therefore able to see a larger picture, or certainly a differentone, than that which she was accustomed to.

  For to him Man was not the only, or even the most important species onthe planet, let alone the center of the Universe, and sole concern ofthe Nameless. It was perhaps for this reason that he had not beenshocked when Sylviana told him that the Earth revolved around the Sun,and not the other way around, or that the stars were themselves suns,parenting similar worlds of their own. To him Man was not the separatecreation of a God unhappy or impatient with Nature. To his mind, if sheunderstood him correctly, evolution was quite miraculous enough, andbrought him closer to, rather than farther from, believing in aUniversal being. And he assured her that nearly every animal wascapable of some measure of thought and feeling, as real and meaningfulto its existence, as the painful dreams and aspirations of men.

  At first he offered few opinions of his own, only gut-level reactionswhen they would not be silenced, which the woman-child must thendecipher on her own. Not only did he feel unqualified to do so---thevery word ?philosophy' intimidated him, seeming a thing reservedfor larger and more important persons---but also, some other sense toldhim that it was unwise to speak or pass judgment upon things he did notfully understand.

  But after a time, having whole days to mull over what he had learned(when hunting, trapping and working did not require his full attention),he began to speak and question at a level which surprised her. Not onlywould she have believed him incapable of such subtle thought andinquiry, but she had always assumed that he would consider such pursuitsfrivolous, and beside the immediate point of survival. Such was not thecase. His mind and spirit hungered, just as the body did, to benourished and fulfilled. And in some ways this spiritual hunger wasmore acute, since it had been so long denied.

  His two favorite writer/philosophers, to judge by the number of times heasked her to read them, were Ernest Hemingway and Lao Tsu. And thisapparent contradiction puzzled her. She could not imagine two moredirectly opposed outlooks, or approaches to life. But when she askedhim about this, he answered more simply and clearly than she would havebelieved possible. It was a cold night, but warm beside the fire,somewhere near the apex of winter. Even the tiger remained indoors,sleeping in its accustomed place just inside the barrier. The cubrested quietly beside the man-child, while he gently stroked her chestand side. Life was all around him, and he felt it deeply.

  'I think that the two ways, if I can call them that, are just the twosides of a man's life: like day and night, summer and winter. Theyboth spring from the fountainhead of Life, both are necessary; they onlyseem different, as Lao Tsu said. He understood the need to yield toNature, and Hemingway the need to fight back. They make me think ofSkither and Barabbas. There are times when one is right, and times whenthe other---'

  'To everything there is a season,' she broke in suddenly,understanding and taken back by the apparent ease with which he hadarrived at one of man's profoundest insights. 'And a time toevery purpose under Heaven.'

  Upon hearing this he became so animated, and insisted so fervently thatshe read to him the entire passage from which this was taken, thatdespite misgivings she brought out a tattered Gideon's Bible and readto him the verses from Ecclesiastes.

  *

  'To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose underthe heaven:

  A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time topluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; atime to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a timeto laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast awaystones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and atime to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; atime to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time tosew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and atime to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.'

  *

  Kalus was awe-struck. 'Are all the things in that book as true andwise?' he asked. 'Who is its author?'

  This was exactly what she feared. More than one newly opened andvulnerable heart had fallen into the trap of blind acceptance of this,and other religious works. Whether Christianity was the true faith ornot, whether one true faith existed, was not the point. The religiousdoctrines of humanity were simply too broad and powerful to impart toone in his position: sensitive, struggling and searching. And in thisshe showed wisdom or her own.

  'I'm afraid not, Kalus. And it doesn't have one author, it hasmany. There are people who believed everything in it to be the truth,suppressing all other voices, even to the point of overriding their ownexperience and common sense. But I'm not one of them.'

  'There are really people who would do that? Contradict the lessonsthat Nature has taught them? I don't understand.'

  'That's because you don't know what was at stake to them, orhow deep such feelings run.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I'm afraid I can't say it in just a few words, and I don'twant to try. If you really want to learn about different religions,I'll teach you what I can. But it really should be done slowly. Oryou could be hurt.' She spoke now from first-hand experience.

  He was silent for a time, his thought roused and his curiosity almostunbearable. But he too had learned caution, and he respected herjudgment. One last question.

  'Can you tell me one thing at least? How could any book make a mannot listen to his heart?'

  She took a deep breath. 'Well. What if I told you that you couldlive forever, and never be separated from the ones you love.Wouldn't that make you willing to listen, and learn how if youcould?'

  'Of course! But no one lives forever..... DO THEY?' The gleam inhis eyes was unmistakable.

  'No one knows, Kalus. And that's why men cling to religion.That, and the desire to do good. But that's enough for tonight,really. All right?'

  At first her words had no effect, then. 'Yes,' he answeredabsently. For his mind was submerged in questions that had drowned farmore learned souls than his.

  In the coming battle he retained only one advantage. His life had beentoo hard, the beginnings of his dreams too dearly bought, to be longdeceived and pacified by illusions. His feet were too painfully awareof the road beneath them, and his hands too calloused from the Herculeanlabors of survival.

  But this could not protect him from Fear, when cast in this new,metaphysical light.

  Chapter 28

  Several days, perhaps a week, passed in much the same outward manner.But Sylviana, with her now practiced eye, began to observe a subtlechange in him, and this troubled her. Always now when his attention wasnot required for some physical task, his eyes and mind seemed to roveabout him, as if expecting the walls to come suddenly to life and undohim. She began to fear that despite all her caution she had given himtoo much to think about, too many questions to grapple with. And shewondered what hidden Pandora's box she had opened inside him.

  Her concern was well justified, and her guesses not far from the truth.Two things had occurred simultaneously which had made him veryuneasy. And in his mind, once more isolated, they seemed indeliblylinked, a kind of hard message from the nameless God, which he mustunravel and accept.

  The first thing that troubled him was the rebound of harsh winterweather. For a time the days had turned relatively mild, and he hadsecretly hoped that the worst was passed. But his optimism waspremature. The Cold World was a long way from spent.

  The second occurrence, inevitable though it might have been, was thediscovery, real or imagined, of a spiritual world to parallel thephysical. Always before the wind had been simply wind, the sun, sun,and his environme
nt, with its natural currents and disturbances, justand only that. If forced to give a name to these patterns and fluxes oflife and death, he would merely have said ?Nature', or ?theways of the Valley'.

  But with the introduction of religion into his thoughts andobservations, came its often inseparable counterpart: superstition. Wasthere an intelligence behind the winds and storms around him, thedangers and trials of his world? For if so, clearly they bore him nogood intention, and possibly considerable malice. Why now, when he washurting and most needed mild weather, was he confronted by the harshestWinter he had ever experienced?

  But this was just the tip of the iceberg. If there truly was a God,then why the innumerable and inexplicable tragedies of his life, bothgreat and small? And most poignant of all to him: WHY WAS SHAMA DEAD?All the other deaths and injuries he had known could perhaps, with aneffort, be rationalized. But why a mere child, healthy and intelligent,with his whole life ahead of him?

  He did not forget the other miracles of his life: the fact that he hadbeen born at all, that he had survived the many pitfalls of hisexistence, and come against considerable odds to find the woman-child,whom he loved. He remembered the Voice, but could not make its wordscorrespond to those of the Bible.

  And why, now, did he feel as if some tangible force resisted and soughtto undo him? What was his sin? Was it because he refused, out ofignorance, to acknowledge the power and supremacy of the one true God?If he obeyed His rules and precepts, would He then smile upon him, andmake his life more bearable? And the final nail, as it always has been,was the burning question that neither Sylviana, nor anyone or anythingelse could answer for him. Was the spirit eternal, and if so, was therea way to come to paradise after death, and be reunited with the ones heloved?

  It was for him a crushing burden, feeling that his decision, his answerto God, held the key not only to his own spiritual salvation, but tothat of those he loved more than his own life. It was for this reasonthat he could not open his heart to Sylviana. She did not believe; shehad said so. But what if she was wrong? Surely if such a beingexisted, He must be obeyed and appeased. God the Father. Was he thenlike Barabbas, a stern and forceful leader?

  It was all too much for him. How could he, an ignorant hunter andtrapper, come to grips with the maker of the stars? Perhaps God wasright to curse him and laugh at him. He was small, foolish and evil.

  Kalus was on the verge of despair. His body would not heal, and theCold World would not relent. How much longer could he trick himselfinto going on, when he was eternally being resisted and punished becauseof his ignorance?

  It was a cold and cheerless night, as he climbed slowly up out of thegorge with his meager prize: a small rabbit, that by some fluke had notdied immediately in his snare, but had to be killed after hours oftorment and fear. He had all but decided that he could no longer livethis way, that he must hunt as a man or perish. But even this smalldignity was not afforded him, since still the others must eat.

  He stepped back onto the ledge with the cub beside him. The tiger wasgone. He knocked wearily on the door, his body aching, and after ashort time which seemed far longer, Sylviana opened it. Her face wasfull of concern, but he had not the strength to pretend that things werebetter than they were.

  He cooked the rabbit without a word, and divided out the portions. Thethree ate silently, and even the cub seemed subdued, sensing hermaster's mood. Kalus placed the tiger's share outside the door,wrapped his fur tighter, and sat like a troubled stone before the fire.Sylviana could stand it no longer.

  'Kalus, what is it? What's wrong?'

  'I can't talk about it,' he said. 'I'm sorry.'

  'Why are you shutting me out again?'

  'Sylviana, please.' Her tone changed when she saw his eyes. Painshe had seen in them, and anger. Even resignation to death. But thispleading, tearful sorrow, as if his spirit was cornered and intorment.....

  'It's all right,' she said softly, kneeling beside him. Shewanted to comfort him with caresses and kind words, but something heldher back. Better to let the dam burst on its own.

  'Well, can we talk about something else?'

  'If you like.' He mastered himself, became calm.

  'You never told me about the wolves: why Kamela was so bitter, andwhy Akar left the cub behind.' Here, he thought, was a chance toescape his own feelings.

  'It's a long story,' he began, 'And many parts I don'tknow for certain. But from things I have learned, and from things Iknew before, I think I can tell you this much.' He shifted positions,trying to lessen the discomfort in the small of his back.

  'For Kamela, I believe her tragedy was two-fold. First, if I readthe signs right---I knew something of the pack before the coming of theChanged One---I believe that Akar was her first love. He had chosen herto be his mate, and she him.

  'But the pack must be ruled by a single master, and that master,Akar's brother, had also chosen her. There are many things a leadermust consider, and emotion is not the first concern of wolves. Shaezarclaimed her, and she yielded to his will.

  'Akar could not, would not cross his brother, but he was deeply hurt.In bitterness he left the pack for a time, and it was then that Shar-haimade his move. He killed Shaezar, fairly or unfairly, and took hisplace as leader. For Akar the result was true banishment, andunforgiving self-reproach. For Kamela..... Shar-hai must have made herlife a living Hell. You have seen the long scar on her underside.'

  'NO.' She spoke truly.

  'She did her best to hide it..... I believe that she was brutallyraped, probably more than once. Also, it is very rare to have only onecub. I think that Shar-hai and his guard must have killed the others.He let Alaska live because she was no threat to him, and might providefurther amusement.'

  'My God, that's awful.'

  'Yes. That is why she was not afraid to die. She still loved Akar,of that I am sure. And he loved her. But she could never overcome theshadow that was left on her soul. You cross a line, Sylviana. . .andeverything becomes so black.'

  She sensed that he was close to breaking. But for all her pity, sheknew what she must do. One last push.

  'But why did Akar leave the cub with us? It seems so cruel.'

  His eyes flamed at this. 'The true wolves do nothing out of cruelty.It was for her own safety, and to leave a part of himself with you.'He got up and began to pace, an uncontrollable rage rising inside him.'CRUEL?' he fumed, throwing off the fur like an unwanted burden,and waving his arms as if struggling in a net. 'I'll tell youwhat's cruel.....

  'Skither lives his whole life, an unselfish warrior for the good, anddies by violence far from his home. Kamela does what is expected ofher, Akar does what he feels in his heart, and both are punished andbereft. An eight year old boy---' He wept. 'An eight year oldboy, Sylviana, makes the one mistake of his life..... And he is KILLEDfor it. While your God.....' All at once he let out a roar.

  'WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!' he shouted at the walls.'What gives you the right to make hard rules, and pass out life anddeath in judgment? You are not wise, you are not strong. YOU ARE NOTGOD! I reject this fear! I reject this lie! I will not serve thefearful creation of MEN!'

  And suddenly the burden was lifted. He stood shaking, his face wet.But in that brief moment when the life inside him had shouted back atthe Night, rejecting it and all its works, he was free, and once moretrue to himself, to the God that was in him. His doubts remained, buthe would not follow that tortured path one step further.

  Sylviana went to him and embraced him, this time without reservation.His grateful arms wrapped around her. He dried his eyes against herneck and shoulder, then stepped back, looking down.

  'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I feel as if I've condemned usall.'

  'Or saved us. Don't you see?'

  'But if you don't believe, and I don't.....'

  'I never said I didn't believe in God, Kalus. I just don'tbelieve in religion. Faith is about Faith. Religion is aboutcontrol.'

&nbsp
; 'But---'

  'Listen to me, Kalus. You don't have to punish yourself tobelieve in something positive, something larger than yourself. Youdon't have to choose between Hells.'

  'But the Bible---'

  'Was written, translated, and ALTERED by men. Saint Paul may havebeen a good man, but he never ever met Jesus; and I believe that?Saints' Jerome and Augustine distorted Christ's words almostbeyond recognition. Between them, and with lots of help from theCatholic Church---Jesus never said anything about chastity, or that thebodies God gave us were inherently evil---they set loose a fear ofdevils and damnation that was the scourge of the western world for twothousand years: from the slaughters of Charlemagne, to the Inquisitionand the Holocaust.

  '?You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.'THAT'S what Jesus said, and THAT'S what I believe. There is trutheverywhere---in Shakespeare, in Dickens, in YOU. You know as much asanyone, about your own life, infinitely more.' She softened, and puta hand to his cheek. 'Trust your heart, Kalus. That's whatit's there for.'

  He looked into her eyes, and the light of day came back to him. 'Youare very wise. I should have come to you sooner.'

  'Some lessons we have to learn for ourselves. You taught methat.'

  'Do you think.....' He struggled again, before the question thatlay behind all others. 'Do you think that you could ever. . .loveme, Sylviana?'

  'I'm beginning to think I could. Now go wash off that grime, andI'll show you.'