"And that is the truth the Goddess insisted that I tell you," she finished, trying to inject humility into her voice but sounding slightly irritable instead.

Zena almost laughed. That too was very like the Runor she knew. Runor did not like being asked to do what she did not want to do, even by the Goddess.

"I forgive you absolutely," she said immediately. "I do not think any of what happened was your fault. Korg and the Leader and even Gurd would have been what they were, done what they did, even if you had not thrown the boiling food that day. Already, they were tormented men who could never be normal again, never know what kindness really meant."

"Zena is right," Larak said forcefully. "You did not cause any of this to happen, Runor. No, these tragedies were perpetrated because terrible cruelties had been meted out to three defenseless boys that changed them forever."

Pila spoke next, surprising them. "I suppose it is never right to throw boiling liquid at someone, but I might have done it too, if it was nearby and I had not been so weak. And was it so wrong for you to be so angry? A woman should be angry if she is treated that way."

"You are right," Sorlin said with spirit. "No woman should be treated like that!"

"That is certainly so," Mara agreed. "Although I am not sure I would have dared to throw a pot of food at the Great Spirit, as I thought he was then. It would not have gone through that horrible bear mask anyway.

"I think you were very brave to do what you did," she told her mother, and Zena saw gratitude in Runor's eyes.

Niva spoke next. "What you did just now took even more courage," she said. "I know this because I have had to do it too." The two women smiled at each other as if sharing a joke. Then Runor turned back to her listeners.

"Thank you for your kind words. I am grateful for them. I will think about what you have said, and it will give me comfort."

"It will," Pila said. "But now you must rest. The story you have told us was hard for us to hear and even more devastating to tell, and you are worn out." So saying, she helped Runor to rise so Mara could lead her mother to her hut.

Pila had acted and sounded exactly like Teran, always ready to defuse tension with practicality, Zena thought to herself. In fact, she was Teran, except that she was still known as Pila. Perhaps it was time for a change.

Zena wondered if she should say that to Pila or if it was too forceful. She decided to take a chance. "You sounded exactly like Teran when you spoke to Runor, and you did just what Teran would have done," she remarked. "I am afraid that I will call you Teran, you are so like her."

Pila smiled, the big, encompassing smile Zena remembered so well. "Then you must call me Teran," she decreed. "I am sure I am, and perhaps if everyone called me by the name I once had, it would help me to remember. That would be fine indeed."

Zena returned the smile; then she did what she had longed to do since she had first seen Teran. Taking her sister into her arms, she hugged her, a long, joyous hug of gratitude, love and relief. Teran was back.

Later that day, Durak took Zena's hand and led her into a grove of trees where tiny white flowers flourished in the dappled light. "I came here many times after Rofina died," he explained. "This was the only place I found peace."

Drawing her down on the ground beside him, he placed a finger across his lips, indicating that she should not speak. For a long time they sat in complete silence. Durak's mouth was curved up in a smile, and for no reason she could understand, Zena found her lips did the same. He was right. Something in this place seemed to give comfort, and pleasure. It was like the feeling she had often had with Lief when they sat together, not needing to speak because they knew each other so well. Here, she could do that again. And suddenly she understood what Durak was trying to tell her: Lief was here; he was here for her, just as Durak had found Rofina here. Lief would never leave her completely; how could she have believed such a thing for so long? His spirit remained with her, and that would sustain her as she learned how to live again. And now, blessedly, Teran was there to help.

"Oh, Lief, I am sorry," she said, though she did not speak aloud. "I am so sorry. I did not understand." The words seemed to float away from her, and Zena found herself waiting, listening, for a response. Slowly, it came. A radiant joy filtered into her, and she was certain that Lief understood and felt the joy too because finally she had let him return to her, had ceased to allow her grief and guilt to keep him away.

The joy slowly faded, pushed aside by the longing for Lief that seemed never to leave her, but its memory did not. Zena knew she had felt it and would feel it again, knew that one day she would be able to embrace it and hold it within her. She knew, too, that one day she would be able to stop blaming herself for Lief's death. She had not quite reached that place yet, but at last she knew it could happen.

One day I will live again, she thought to herself. Not just yet, but one day it will happen. She had not known that before.

The light was fading before Durak drew her to her feet. They had almost reached the hut when he spoke. "Now you must give purpose to his death," he told Zena, his face stern, "by honoring the Mother, by speaking of Her, representing her wherever you go, as is your mission.

"Yours and Teran's," he added. "She may not remember but she is still Teran. Together, you can do it and do it well."

Tears sprang up in Zena's eyes, because so much time had passed, and all she had thought of was her own pain. How could she have allowed herself to be so blind, so unthinking, for all these months?

Zena must live, Lief had said, and he had believed it so fervently that he had given his life so she could continue the mission entrusted to her by the Goddess. She had failed to honor that sacrifice.

It will not be so any longer, she vowed to herself. From this moment on, she would do everything in her power to make sure Lief had not died in vain.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

The sun was warm on Zena's face as she climbed once more to the place where Lief had died and settled on a bare rock. The outline of the ridges where they had huddled during the storm was visible now, though to dig into the frozen solidity between them was still impossible. Even Lief's pack, his precious axe and the other possessions she had left near him, were still buried in ice and might never be found.

For hours, Zena sat there, alone with Lief and the Goddess, remembering, accepting. The agony that had once afflicted her was muted now, though sadness was still there, a part of her life. But so was joy, the joy she had felt when she had first understood that Lief was still with her in his way, and the joy she felt at knowing she carried his child within her. For a long time she had not dared to believe, had thought her bleeding had not come because she was so ill. But now she was sure. There was no other way to explain a rapidly expanding belly! The tiny life must have sprung up inside her during her last trip with Lief, she realized, and was glad. He had died on that trip, but he had left her a precious legacy.

She felt Lief now, all around her, and she drew in her pleasure that he was here along with the sadness that he was not. There was sadness, too, because she knew she might never find him, might never be able to bring him back to the village and bury him where he belonged.

"But I am where I belong now," Lief objected, and Zena was certain she could hear his voice. "I am buried where I wish to be, high in the peaks we loved."

Zena smiled, almost laughed. The words had sounded so much like Lief! "You are right," she told him, still smiling. "Yes. You are right. This is where you belong, high in the mountains where we found such joy."

"An ice burial," she said then, nodding. "Yes, that is right for you, Lief. We will give you an ice burial right here, in the high and beautiful place you have chosen."

And so it was that on another warm day she led Teran and Larak and the other villagers up the mountain to the place where Lief lay. One at a time, the people placed wildflowers reverently on the mound of ice under which he lay buried, and remembered him with their words, spoke of how fine and brave he was, so the Mother would know of their great love and admiration for him. When each had spoken, they listened intently as Zena and Larak conducted the familiar rituals and commended Lief to the Goddess.

"Though his body lies buried in ice," Zena said to the Goddess, "I know his spirit lives on in the stars he loved. Keep him there always so that one day I may find him again, and we can fly together for all time."

Zena lingered for a moment after the others had left. In a few months, they would journey to the standing stones, where she would take her place as wise one for all the Mother People, and before she left she wanted Lief to know that she was no longer afraid of the responsibility. Partly that was because Teran had returned and would help her, but she also knew that even if she was not yet as strong or as wise as Larak or Runor, she felt confident now of her ability to speak for the Goddess.

Lief seemed to hear her thoughts; all the way down the mountain, all during the months that followed, Zena felt him sending her his support and his love. She drew it into her, felt it strengthen her and give her courage.

That year, the numbers of Mother People who gathered at the standing stones was greater than ever before. Everyone in villages newly restored to the Goddess wanted to come; all the others went as well, to reaffirm the faith that had sustained them for so many years. From the mountains, the valleys and the coasts, they came, traveling slowly south in a line so long no one could count the numbers. All along the way, they helped each other, carrying the old ones and the children when they were tired, sharing food, telling stories of all that had happened to them in recent years. And when all of them had finally gathered in the sacred place, the stones themselves rang with the sound of their voices, as they greeted the Goddess and told Her of their love and gratitude for all She did for them. It was a ceremony that was remembered and savored, spoken of over and over again, for all the years of the Mother People.

The gathering that year was remembered for other reasons. One was the joyous fact that Teran had been found and was slowly but surely recovering her memory. The other was equally momentous. On the last night of the ceremonies, Zena gave birth to twin daughters, her daughters and Lief's, in the sacred circle of stones itself. As before, the first born was called Zena, the second Teran. The Mother People were overjoyed, and so was Zena, especially since both children were healthy and strong. In later years, each of them gave birth to twins as well, as did their daughters, and so the tradition continued.

They were good years, peaceful years. Many children were born, and flourished, and the Mother People slowly spread across the earth. Everywhere they settled, they created circles of stone. As the years passed, they became expert at raising huge chunks of stone, at placing them in circles and in long columns to mark the way for the processions. They always set the stones in high, open places, where they would be visible for many miles so that even Mother People from far away could see them, and come to worship. Hundreds and thousands of them came, to thank the Goddess, to ask for Her help and guidance, to remember those who had come before them. Generation after generation, they told the story of the Mother People to their children, so it would never be forgotten. They spoke of the ancestors who had made the long and painful trek from the place where the Mother People were first born, a place of strange animals and deserts of unendurable heat, of magnificent mountains and turbulent rivers, and great stretches of savannah broken only by an occasional tree and the huge herds that moved across them, of the ancestors who had painted on the cave walls more than thirty thousand years before in the mountains where some of their people still lived, of the people closer in time who had discovered the first standing stones on an island now buried by the great sea.

They spoke as well of the wise ones called Zena - the first one who had brought the Mother to them even before they knew fully how to speak, the next Zena who had led her people from their ancient home to a verdant land near a great body of water that led to the sea, of those who came after her, how each undertook the challenge entrusted to her by the Goddess so that the Mother People might live on. They told the story of the ice burial high in the mountains, too, performed by another Zena for her beloved Lief, the man who had given his life so that she would live.

He lies buried in ice still, the story-tellers said, for they had no way of knowing that more than five thousand years later, Lief's body would be wrenched from the ravine that had enclosed him for so long, or that after all those years, his story, and the story of the Mother People, would once again be told.

EPILOGUE.

The Mother People are gone now, destroyed by invaders with different beliefs, not of love and compassion but of the rightness of violence and exploitation. With the Mother People went their stories, the knowledge they had sought for so long to preserve. All that is left of them now are their ancient circles of stone, that grew larger and more commanding with every passing year. Even when later they were persecuted and driven from their homes, the Mother People continued to build their magnificent monuments. Sometimes they were forced to build them by conquerors as memorials to themselves, but these tyrants never knew, never even guessed that the laborers they disdained were master builders who instead left their own knowledge, their beliefs, their story, buried deep in the stones. The knowledge is still there, if only we could interpret it. It lies in the setting, the placement of the stones, in the memories, the hopes and dreams that the Mother People sank into the earth beneath the stones, in the spirit of sanctity that still pervades the great monuments.

One day, perhaps, we will come to understand what these long-forgotten people wished to tell us; perhaps, too, we will finally come to appreciate the precious legacy of peace and compassion they bequeathed us. It is even possible that we will learn to live as they did once again. Signs of violence are everywhere today, but there are other, more hopeful signs as well - a renewed concern for the earth, that we have plundered it beyond its capacity to renew itself, an insistence that women in all parts of the world must be able to control their own lives and their fertility, that women as well as men should be our spiritual leaders, our politicians, if wise decisions are to be made. Perhaps we even see signs in the persistence of our reverence for Mary, Mother of us all, in the many sightings of her calm face, in the reports of her voice, telling us of the need for peace and love and compassion.

Most hopeful of all may be the yearning in so many hearts for fulfillment deeper than the financial gain, the accumulation of possessions that drives us, for relief from the relentless competition, the frantic pace that marks our lives. We long for a better way, though what that way should be we do not know. We know only that we yearn for it, that despite all protestations telling us such a time never existed, we cannot rid ourselves of a belief that there exists a long-forgotten past, a garden of Eden, when we lived our lives in harmony with the earth and with each other.

Will such a time ever come again? We cannot tell. All we have to remind us of that time are the ancient circles of stone, the magnificent and still-compelling standing stones. They are our only legacy of the Mother People, who are the ancestors of us all.

History of the Iceman.

On September 19, 1991, a German couple hiking in the Alps between Austria and Italy saw a human head and shoulders protruding from the ice. They reported their find to the police. Not recognizing the antiquity of the find, a number of people attempted to hack the body roughly from the ice, disturbing the evidence. Eventually the body and the artifacts found near it were taken to the forensic department of the University of Innsbruck. An archaeologist was finally called in and immediately dated the find to more than four thousand years old. This date was later revised to 5,300 years old. It was a sensational discovery. Never before had a body from that period been found intact. The Iceman, the world's oldest and best-preserved mummy, is now in the Archaeological Museum in Bolonzo, Italy, where scientists continue to study him intensively. He was nick-named Otzi, after the adjoining Otz valley.

The Iceman was found lying face down at 10,500 feet in the Italian Alps, in a depression between two transverse ridges of rock. Glacial ice covered the depression. He was naked from the waist up. The most recent findings show that he had been hit in the left shoulder with an arrow and that the arrowhead was still embedded his shoulder, indicating that he had been shot from behind. The Iceman also had a deep jagged wound in his right hand and had suffered a hard blow to the back of his head, as evidenced by hematoma and skull fracture.

The artifacts found on or around the Iceman were: Clothing: though naked from the waist up, many articles of clothing appropriate for a journey in the mountains were found lying near the body.

A tunic made from pieces of domestic goat hide, which had been cross-stitched together with animal sinew.

A plaited cape made of Alpine swamp grass which the Iceman may have worn as a cape or over his heard to keep out rain. It was secured by string.

Leggings made of many pieces of domestic goat hide cross-stitched together that covered his legs from ankle to thigh. Deerskin and leather laces held them in place.

Shoes consisting of two parts, the outer part made of deerskin, with the fur outside, the inner part of tree bast netting that held hay insulation in place. Both are attached to an oval leather sole by straps. The upper part was closed by shoelaces and the ankle was bound with tree bast fibers to prevent damp from getting in.

A fur hat of semispherical shape with ties that went under the chin.

A belt made of calf's leather that could be wound twice around the hips.

A pouch, or "fanny pack", made from a piece of sewn on leather. The longest side was strengthened by decorative stitching, and it could be closed with a fine leather thong. The pouch contained lumps of fungus for making fires that had traces of pyrite materials, indicating that Otzi used it to produce sparks made by a pyrite mineral, and traces of black fibers that may have been used for tinder.

A loin cloth made of long narrow strips of goat leather cross-stitched together. It was worn between the legs and fastened to the belt.

Some of the thread to make various repairs in the clothing and other items were made of grasses, suggesting no ready supply of sinew for thread during his travels.

The equipment:.

An awl, a multi-functional tool that could be used for sewing, making tattoos or as a toothpick.

Tinder fungus - ideal for lighting fires if it is kept dry. Traces of iron pyrite show that Otzi knew how to use it to make fires.

A flint knife or dagger in a wooden (ash) handle and bound with animal sinews, which was found in Otzi's clenched hand.

A sheath for the knife made of mesh of tree bast and sewn with double-plaited grass fibers. A leather eye allowed it to be fastened to the belt with straps so that it was easily accessible.

An axe with an unusual copper head, indicating status, fixed to its wood (yew) handle by birch tar and lashed to the blade with wet leather (that then shrank). It is the only completely intact prehistoric axe in the world.

A retoucher made from a piece of lime wood cut straight at one end and shaped to a point at the other that resembled a pencil. It was probably used for detailed work in making flint instruments.

An unfinished 71 inch longbow made of yew. It was drenched in blood, which may have come from Otzi's hand or may have been put there as a water repellant.

A quiver of leather supported by a long Hazelwood rod, which was broken into three pieces, with an elaborately decorated side pocket.

Two finished arrows made of viburnum, each with three steering feathers, a broken arrow shaft and twelve shafts for making more arrows, which were never finished. Lengths of wide sinew for a new bow-string were found in the quiver, also some bones or antlers whittled to taper at both ends and rolled up with grass cordage.

A large rucksack with a frame of hazel and larch and two boards that served as horizontal connections for the two ends of the frame. Pieces of string were used to tie them on.

Birch bark canisters that contained lumps of charcoal wrapped in maple leaves, which were possibly embers from an earlier fire.

Two flint scrapers, a gouging tool, a bone needle and a length of cordage spun from grass were also found nearby. The most puzzling artifact is a polished stone circlet with tassels of leather through its center. It is thought to be a talisman or possibly jewelry.

A first-aid kit containing the flesh of birch fungus which had antibiotic and styptic effects. The toxic oils in these fungi are effective against the intestinal parasites from which Otzi suffered.

Climate: The Iceman was found near a pass that is well used today, and would have been an obvious place to cross between the higher mountains in his time as well. He is thought to have died in late spring (new evidence shows spring pollen on his clothing), probably during an unusually late snow in a year of climate change. Alpine glaciers began to spread and deepen, and reach further down the mountains. At first Oetzi lay exposed except for a light covering of snow, and wind dehydrated his body. The snows soon began again; they changed to ice, and the glacier slowly grew around him.

Appearance: The Iceman had wavy brown or black hair and was between 25 and 40 years old. He was about 5 feet, 4 inches tall. His back and legs have patterns of short dark lines that resemble tattoos but are probably signs of acupuncture since they are found on the classic points for treatment of arthritis of the hips and legs, from which Otzi suffered. He also had parasitic stomach bacteria in his intestines. He carried lumps of tree fungus, held together with a strap, which had antibiotic properties and would have been helpful in treating his stomach ailment.

Diet: Otzi had eaten a large meal of ibex meat and einkorn grains cooked on an open fire not long before he died, and later ate a little more meat and grains, possibly in the form of bread.

Descendants: We know that the Iceman fathered young because genetic tests on his body have led to the successful identification of a living female relative in Great Britain. The tests show the presence in both of a gene that passes unchanged from generation to generation through the maternal line. (Bryan Sykes; the Seven Daughters of Eve, 2001) Occupation: The Iceman might have been a trader or a shepherd bringing his animals back from their high summer pastures. This practice continues today in the Otzal Alps where he was found. He may also have been a hunter since he ate wild game, and, as I have posited, he may have been traveling on an entirely different type of mission. We may never know with certainty.

Home: Pollens found in Otzi's stomach indicate that he lived in the Vinschgau valley just south of the Alpine mountain chain. Further evidence of this location comes from the mosses he carried.

Cause of death: For almost ten years, scientists speculated about how and why the Iceman died. Theories ranged from ritual killing to freezing to death in a storm, to unspecified violence. The discovery in July 2001 of a flint arrowhead embedded in his left shoulder (until this time X-rays had revealed no external injuries) and the later discovery of the two other wounds provided more concrete answers to the long-standing mystery - Otzi had died as a result of a final violent confrontation. The deep gash in his right hand would have rendered it useless, and the injury to the back of his head would have stunned him, leaving him defenseless. His wounds did not kill him right away, but they played important roles in his death. They were inflicted soon before death and had not had time to heal, and may have bled severely.

We know that his attacker shot him in the back from behind with an arrow, but we may never know with certainty how Otzi's head was injured or how his hand was wounded. An assailant could have hit his head, or he might have fallen, as I have suggested. Similarly, the wound to his hand could have been made by a knife with a rough edge or the jagged end of the arrow shaft, as in Ice Burial. It can be assumed, however, that the Iceman managed to escape his attackers and flee up the mountain since none of his valuable tools (the copper axe was especially valuable) were taken. Probably he died later as a result of the combined effects of two painful wounds, exhaustion and exposure, the unexpectedly early storm and the weakening effects of the minor illnesses from which he suffered.

Despite the most recent evidence that helps to explain his death, mysteries about the Iceman still abound. Who were his attackers, and why did they attack him? What was he doing on the high pass with such wounds? His equipment makes it obvious that he was an experienced traveler who took with him everything he might need, so he must have made many trips successfully. Why was this one unusual? Why was his knife in his wounded hand, which could not grasp it because of the injury? Why was he naked from the waist up? What prompted him to remove his clothing in a snowstorm? Why did he die exactly where he was, between two ridges?

No one, so far, has fully answered these questions. ICE BURIAL presents fictional answers that are based on all available evidence. The Iceman's clothing, tools and artifacts and all other items - including the mysterious stone circlet, the unfinished bow and arrows and the knife in his hand - are accounted for and explained, as are the circumstances of his death, his wounds and health, and the reason for his presence in the mountains on that fateful day.

The story of the Iceman has been well publicized in magazines and newspapers and is now familiar to most people. The more recent finding that he was murdered has added still more interest. ICE BURIAL provides a dramatic and believable account of his life and the tragic circumstances of his death that is certain to capture the imagination of the reading public. It is a moving story - and a plausible one. As we know to our sorrow, differences in religious or spiritual beliefs have been and remain a potent cause of human violence.

Note: Research on the Iceman continues to produce findings which will be incorporated into the story as needed. These research notes can also be expanded as needed.

August 2012.

Joan Dahr Lambert is also the author of.

CIRCLES OF STONE.

(Simon Schuster 1997,1999).

Book One in the Mother People Series.

CIRCLES IN THE SKY.

Book Two in the Mother People Series.

WALKING INTO MURDER.