CHAPTER NINE
THE WOMEN’S DAY IN BOOTH AND BAZAAR
It was fully ten o’clock before Kerœcia, attended entirely by women, finally made her appearance. She drove a splendid team of woodland caribou, harnessed to her traveling cart now made gay with bunting and flowers. There were tiny nosegays tied to the palmated antlers sweeping back over the long, shaggy bodies. The ribbons were threaded from one wide expanse to its fellow on the opposite side, and even to the bez-tynes coming down between the eyes and spreading protectingly over the elongated beak-like nose.
The snap and click of the spreading false hoofs of the caribou announced the advent of the party. Rahula and Ildiko stood on each side of Kerœcia, while Alcyesta, Suravia and Mineola balanced themselves by placing their hands on the shoulders in front of them.
Matu, Saphis and Phoda, the three caribou, were a perfect match in color, size and gait. The animals stood over three feet high with very wide and many tyned, spreading antlers. Matu, who was driven in the lead had a short shaggy mane of grayish white which lightened his reddish-brown coat, his four feet being evenly marked by the same white band. The strong necks, knee-joints and short muscular legs were built for strength and these roadsters handily trotted past the barking dogs in the streets and on the highways. Their big eyes had nothing of the gazelle quality in them, but were alert, and the short lily-cup ear heard acutely, while the sense of smell was their finest quality.
If it were possible to imagine hilarity in a countenance so long drawn out and preternaturally grave, it may be said that these sagacious animals enjoyed showing their heels too, and dusting everything encountered on the road. Or, it may have been that they were envious of the burros with their bulging sides, dodging out of their way as they flew by.
A word and a sudden checking of the reins fastened to the nose, brought the team to a standstill in front of a basketry. Here the party alighted and Kerœcia caressed her roadsters, giving each one a cake of salt, and scratching its nose affectionately. They manifested pleasure in their own special fashion, and suffered themselves to be coaxed away by a bundle of dry moss.
Inside the building were girls assorting thick packages of willow wands, and long stemmed, wiry grasses as well as splits of palms.
Kerœcia’s eyes lit up as she recognized some of her favorite weaves. Bending over a young girl she took the work from her hands and began explaining an intricate decoration.
“Fifteen stitches to the digit is not fine enough for this acorn pattern, twenty-eight will serve thee better. Where the point of the acorn cuts off here, a bottom must be put in to give it standing power.”
When the coil was properly started in stitch and pattern, she picked up a handful of grass soaking in a shallow basket basin near by, and dexterously fashioned a tiny acorn, perfect in color and shape.
“Use this for a handle on the acorn cup suitable to cover this basket,” she said.
To the delighted exclamations of thanks, she replied:
“May a good husband and sweet children grace thy home and bless thee with loving kindness.”
The shamaness of the basket guild withdrew from a coil she had been weaving a priceless heirloom, inherited from her great-great-grandmother. This proved to be a long needle made from the wing-bone of a hawk and was believed to be an amulet of good luck.
“Will the high-priestess honor and make me happy by accepting this little token? She who uses it will have the blessing of the whole guild.”
Kerœcia took the polished implement, and motioned one of her tamanes to approach. From his hands she received a parcel so delicate and precious that it was protected by a basket-covering of unique design. When she disclosed the contents there was an involuntary exclamation of “A—h—!” from all the curious weavers cognizant of it.
“Will the shamaness make me happy by accepting this example of my handicraft? I have worked on it three years,” she said.
The gift was a fancy basket covered entirely with red-headed woodpeckers’ scalps, among which were placed at intervals many hanging loops of tiny iridescent shells. Around the rim was an upright row of black quails’ top-knots, nodding gayly.
Presently, a representative of the guild brought forward a dice-table top made in anticipation of this visit. It was a round, flat tray, ornamented with dark-brown water lines on a cream-white ground. With it were eight acorn-shaped dice, inlaid with abalone shell and some richly carved ivory sticks with which to keep tally. The acorn shells had first been filled with pitch, and when hardened cleverly inlaid with abalone. Cradle and burden baskets used for storing grain differed in no wise from the weaves of the Monbas.
Row after row of every imaginable stitch and material filled the roomy building. Kerœcia was respectful in her attention to the workers but she forbore a longer interruption of the general trend of the work.
Into the pueblo, set apart for the pottery, one might with profit follow, or linger over the looms of the rug and blanket weavers, as Kerœcia did. But it is fair to suppose that modern eyes are familiar with the striking peculiarities of the Daghestan rugs and Navajo blankets, the stitches of one being familiar to the descendants of Kerœcia’s forebears, while the Navajo Indians have preserved the secret of the other. One is characteristic of native Oriental invention, the other of native American.
“There is need of haste in returning,” admonished Rahula, as the women climbed back into the car and started cityward. “We are due at the marketplace now.”
“Content thyself. The caribou is an excellent traveler,” was Kerœcia’s assurance, as she gathered up the reins and shook the many stranded whip over the horns of her team. They started forward with the easy stride common to the elk family, and were not long in clearing a passage way through the tamanes, trotting along the road carrying huge, well-filled baskets, one on each end of a pole slung across the shoulder. Mingling with them were burros so well burdened that nothing but their noses, tails and forefeet were visible.
The social corner-stone of Tlamco was not the family but the clan. Husband and wife must belong to different gentes, and the children claimed descent from the mother. The spheres of the sexes were clearly defined but manfully, the wife being the complete owner of the house and all it contained. If a mother, she was not required to perform other than household duties. Slovenliness was severely punished in both sexes, and so was idleness.
At no time was the life of the ordinary woman of greater hardship than is that of the wife of a poor man in any enlightened or so-called Christian country to-day. Should her husband ill-treat her, a woman of this civilization could permanently evict him from the home. The husband owned the crops until they were housed, and then the wife had an equal voice in their distribution. The live stock was his; but there was an unwritten code which forbade his disposing of it without consulting his wife.
For these reasons, certain of the afternoon hours of each day were set apart, in the market, by the guilds, for the reception of the women. They came in two sections, and took turns, so that each guild received a weekly visit. It was to head a procession of this kind, visiting the bazaars devoted to Monbas handiwork, that Kerœcia and her attendants hurried through the streets.
“See the crowds of children, the priestesses and the women,” said Kerœcia, as they whirled through a circular gateway leading to the bazaar.
“They are waiting for us,” exclaimed Ildiko, with a glow of satisfaction and self-importance. “Setos, the wise and kind father, forgive our being tardy,” she continued; “we were detained on such loving pretexts as befits the exalted regard felt for our guests.” She gave her hand to Alcamayn and bounded lightly to the ground.
“Shame oppresses me sorely for having kept thee waiting,” said Kerœcia, as she suffered Orondo to assist her.
“Thy dalliance was slight,” he answered gallantly, “and our first concern is for thy pleasure.”
“Let us go at once,” they all said.
Each one picked up a basket of flowers and followed Kerœcia and Orondo.
It was a pretty sight. The women and children filled every nook and corner of the booths with flowers while the priestesses swung incense up and down the aisles and over the commodities. The men paid their guests compliments, plied them with sweet-meats and were as courteous and considerate as the occasion demanded.
Fathers took occasion to have a little visit with their children; husbands and wives consulted their mutual interests; while lovers contrived to exchange much of the small coin of affection, openly, innocently and with obvious encouragement.
Mingling freely with the crowd, were the vestal virgins, themselves trained by Priestesses of the Sun, in charge of the boys and girls under the age of twelve. These eager little bodies were allowed to satisfy their curiosity. The vestals tried to explain everything coming under their observation, so that the visit was an object lesson as well as a half-holiday.
Groups of older boys came attended by warrior-priests, who trained them in the art of warfare, after which they were apprenticed to the various guilds, and taught to be skilled in some branch of industry. In many cases, an elder brother or other relative was serving an apprenticeship while a younger boy was still studying warfare. Then, there was a pardonable display of skill and knowledge by the elder, which did not fail to spur the ambition of the younger.
Both sexes were allowed to study picture writing, music or oratory, and there was much friendly rivalry among them.
The guild awards were always those most hotly contested. In this category were prizes for cooking, weaving, basketry, pottery and the care of the sick, which was the prerogative of the women, while all the industries gave encouragement to the apprentice boys in their charge.