Spear, and the others, regarded the slave.
Brenda Hamilton saw women and children standing behind and among the men. Most of the women were bare breasted. Almost all of the women wore necklaces of leather, claws and shells.
Tree did not think Spear would order her slain. She was comely. If he did order her killed, he would fight Spear. But Spear would not want her killed. He would keep her for working and kicking.
Brenda Hamilton looked into the large, stolid face that regarded her. She looked away, terrified. The face frightened her, more than had that of her captor. The eyes, particularly, frightened her. They seemed at odds with the face, and the largeness of the man. They were narrow and shrewd, cunning, sharp. The body and the face, together seemed only large, and slow, heavily muscled, thick, heavy, particularly the jaw, but the eyes were bright, seeing, observant. The man moved his head slowly, and his body, but she sensed in this a deception, one belied by the eyes. This creature, seemingly dull, shambling, she sensed, could, if need arose, move with the swiftness of a snake, the purposiveness of a panther.
She sensed this was the leader.
She would learn later his name was Spear.
Closely behind him she saw a younger man. She saw clearly that he was the son of the other, from the narrowness of the eyes, the heaviness of the jaw, but there were two differences; the younger man’s body was more alert, more supple, less heavily muscled; but his eyes, though cruel, were simpler, more arrogant, less cunning. She sensed greater intelligence in the older one, and, too, quickness, that he might, if he wished, strike before the younger could move.
Spear’s hands felt her body, the firmness of her breasts, the curvatures of her ass.
“She is pretty,” said Spear to Tree.
She felt Spear’s hand at her delta. She closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth.
“She does not kick well,” said Tree.
Spear stepped back and regarded her. He shrugged. “She is pretty,” he said. “We will keep her.” Then he said, “She can carry flint.”
She saw Tree’s body relax.
She understood very little of what was going on.
Tree was pleased. He did not now have to fight Spear.
She did not even understand that Spear had decided that she would be, at least for the time, permitted to live.
A woman with a limp, and a scar beneath the left cheekbone began screaming.
“Kill her! Kill her!” cried Short Leg. She was first among the women of the Men, dominant among the females. She was, too, the first fed of Spear’s five women. Indeed, so high she stood with Spear that, for more than two years; none of the other hunters had used her. Some of the hunters wondered why she should stand so high with Spear. Only Spear knew. She was shrewd, and highly intelligent. She gave him many good ideas. She knew much. And, in the camp, she was an extra pair of eyes and ears for Spear. She made him more powerful.
But still she was only a female.
Spear’s left hand flew back, cuffing the screaming female back.
Brenda Hamilton saw blood leap from the face of the struck woman, who reeled back.
“Throw the sticks!” cried Short Leg. “Throw the sticks!”
“I have decided,” said Spear.
Brenda Hamilton saw hostility in the eyes of the women, as they regarded her.
“Throw the sticks!” screamed Short Leg.
Spear’s eyes met those of a small man with a twisted spine, with narrow ferret eyes, whose head was turned to one side. “Get the sticks,” he said.
Hyena sped from the group and went to one of the huts. He returned with a leather wrapper and, when he unfolded it, within it, Brenda Hamilton saw more than a dozen sticks, painted in different colors, some in rings. The colors were mostly yellows and reddish browns, the rubbings of ochers into the peeled wood.
The group fell back and, with another stick in the wrapper, a larger stick, with a feather tied to it, Hyena, to one side, drew a circle in the dirt. He then brought five rocks, and put them in the circle, too. Then with his stick, he drew lines from one rock to another. Two of the women gasped. Where before there had been only rocks there was now a star, and the rocks were its points.
Hyena gestured for silence.
He looked at Short Leg, and the women. He seemed nervous. “Throw the sticks,” said Short Leg.
He looked at the men. They did not look upon him pleasantly. He began to sweat.
He went to Brenda Hamilton and, head twisted, bent over, looked up at her.
Then he went back to the circle and picked up the sticks.
He looked at Knife.
He looked at Spear, and at Stone, and Tree, and the others.
“Throw the sticks,” said Spear.
More than ten times Hyena lifted and dropped the sticks, watching carefully, studying carefully, sometimes on his hands and knees, the way they had fallen, their angles, their relationships to one another.
Then he stood up. “The meaning is clear,” he said. “It is always the same.”
“What do the sticks say?” demanded Short Leg.
“They say Spear is right,” said Hyena.
Spear’s face did not change expression. Short Leg turned about in disgust, and left the group.
The women, other than Short Leg, seemed satisfied. The men seemed pleased.
The sticks had confirmed the decision of Spear. The female strung on the skinning pole would be permitted, at least for the time, to live.
She looked from face to face. There was the leader, narrow-eyed, heavy jawed, who was Spear; there was, near him, the one she recognized as his son; who was Knife; to one side stood a large man, heavy faced and dour, Stone; then there was a spare man, lean and large handed, Arrow Maker; and a smaller man, heavy chested, short-legged, long armed, Runner; standing together were two men, a small, quick man, grinning, furtive, who was Fox, and a larger fellow, slower witted, secretive, who would not look into her eyes, Wolf; then she almost cried out in fear, as her eyes fell upon Tooth, so ugly, so large jawed, with the extended upper right canine tooth; he approached her; “Do not be afraid,” he said to her, in the language of the Men; then he turned away, followed by two children; the small man, with the twisted back, who had thrown the sticks had taken his sticks back to the hut; before he had done this he had erased his circle and lines, and thrown the stones into the brush; he was Hyena. Then, too, there was the tall, black-haired fellow, bronzed, in the brief skins, who had taken her captive, and muchly raped her, and brought her to the camp, as his bound prize; his name, she would learn, was Tree.
She gasped.
Two women stood beside him, a shorter woman, blond, and a taller woman, dark-haired. She saw the shorter blond women slip to her knees beside him, on his right side. There, kneeling by his right thigh, she took his leg in her hands, and, softly, began putting her lips to his leg. The darker woman rubbed her body against his, and began pressing her lips to his body. Then, too, she sank to her knees beside him, docile and delicate, holding his legs, kissing at him.
Brenda Hamilton, suspended by her wrists from the pole, could scarcely believe her eyes. How shameless they were!
Yet there was something so open, so frank, so organic, so honest, so uninhibited, so ingenuously sensual and vital in their behavior that she found herself, in spite of herself, and her shock, indescribably thrilled. And then she was furious. She hated them! How shameless they were! And she knew that she, too, wanted to kneel beside him, as they did, competing for his attention.
“Get away from him,” she wanted to cry. “I am his prize, not you!”
She had never seen a man such as he.
But she said nothing. She was silent.
To her fury, Tree turned away from her and went back among the huts, followed closely by the two females, holding to him, pressing themselves against him.