Adventures of Radisson (15 page)

Kondaron extended his hands to his companions, as though he were offering them something to eat. They listened on in silence.

“Well, this giant was the Great Spirit. The Great Spirit leaned toward them and offered them a bloody lump of human flesh. Seeing it, the youngest recoiled and hid his face in his hands, refusing to eat. But his older brother accepted the human flesh. To nourish the younger brother who had refused to touch the flesh of a man, the giant gave him a piece of bear meat, which he accepted readily. The meal reinvigorated the two brothers. They followed the old man's directions and soon found the path back to their village.”

“The giant was a good spirit,” said Kondaron. “The two brothers lived with their wives for many more years and had many children. The younger brother became a hunter renowned for the many bears he killed, while the elder brother became a famous warrior who captured and killed many men and women. The spirit had revealed their destiny to them and allowed it to come to pass.”

Kondaron's story was met with a profound silence. All of Orinha's companions were familiar with the legend; most had heard it time and time again. For once, nobody followed with a story of his own, or started to sing. On the eve of combat against the Erie, all were deep in thought. Their chief's tale reminded each of them that it was time to communicate with their guardian spirits, the spirits they chose when they became adults, from among all the spirits that brought the world to life: the spirits of the beaver, the eagle, the oak tree, the reed, the earth, the water, the sun, the spirits of all that existed. Only Orinha had never experienced this. Unlike his companions, he was quietly wondering what meaning to give to the story that troubled him more than it reassured him. Who was he? A hunter or a warrior? Perhaps he was no more than a trader, as he had often thought? Perhaps he was a negotiator, a man of peace? His life had changed so quickly.

Before leaving the village, Orinha had seen Iroquois his age shut themselves away to fast and seek the spirit that would guide their destiny. After fasting, each young man would then always wear a bag made from leather or bark around his neck or waist, a bag that contained a secret talisman. None of them would ever reveal its contents. And so Orinha understood precious little about the whole thing. On that evening, he noticed that all his companions were wearing such a bag. Was it really that important? He couldn't say. But at that very minute, he felt vulnerable and very different from the other Iroquois. The thought irritated him. When his life was on the line, he wanted to be like his brothers in every respect, to form one body with them.

He was almost angry with Kondaron for choosing this moment to tell his story, even though he realized it was a source of inspiration for his comrades. What could he do to rid himself of his uncomfortable feeling? Orinha looked for solace in Ganaha's eyes, but his elder brother kept his head down, lost in thought. To perk up his courage, Orinha recalled Garagonké's enthusiasm when he told him he wanted to go to war. The memory comforted him a little.

Kondaron beckoned Orinha to follow him outside the walls of the camp. Once they were a few steps away, in the flickering light of the fire, Kondaron gave him a small bark cylinder, sewn together at both ends with roots through which long leather thong had been threaded. Kondaron knotted it solemnly around Orinha's waist, saying:

“This talisman will protect you for the entire journey. You must trust its power. The spirit that lives in it is powerful enough to watch over both you and me. It is part of my own spirit. You must never open it and you must not know what it contains. All I can tell you is that this spirit lives in the sky like the Great Spirit of the French, and his anger is terrible. But his power is also on our side, especially in battle. I ask you to respect him and to always be careful not to anger him. May the spirit be with you. You have nothing to fear any more.”

So saying, Kondaron went back to sit by the fire without further explanation. Orinha rushed after him, hoping to question him.

“How can I respect him if I don't know who he is? Tell me, Kondaron. Tell me more. Tell me what I have to do.”

But the chief remained silent. He now gazed sternly at the fire and threw a few handfuls of tobacco onto it. They disappeared into the air as smoke.

“Tell me how to pray to him, how to worship him,” Orinha insisted. “Please teach me.”

Kondaron said not a word. But Ganaha noticed the bark cylinder tied around his brother's waist and smiled over at Orinha, relieved that Kondaron had found a way to protect him.

“You must rest,” Kondaron finally declared. “Sleep well, for tomorrow we will need all our strength. Put your faith in the spirits— they are on our side. You have nothing to fear.”

But that night Orinha had too many questions to be able to sleep. He nervously touched the bark cylinder Kondaron had given him, wondering which spirit might be watching over him, and if the spirit really could protect him. He was tempted to break open the bark to have a look, but he knew that would be the worst thing he could possibly do. In one fell swoop, he would undermine the morale of his companions, upset their beliefs, and turn Kondaron against him for years to come. And perhaps the spirit might get angry and do him harm. No, better follow Kondaron's advice and be cautious. Caution was a virtue that Orinha had begun to learn in his suffering and that he now intended to nurture. His thoughts turned to Kondaron's story. Would he have chosen to eat the human flesh or the bear meat? At first blush, it seemed clear to him that he would have opted for the bear meat, even though he had gone out of his way to become a warrior. What did that mean? On the eve of risking his life in combat, Orinha wondered if he had made the right choice. He would have liked to know for sure.

For his part, Kondaron was relieved to have helped Orinha. At the risk of angering his guardian spirit, he'd taken a small piece of a charred wood from his own bag and cut off the top of the pine tree he had chopped down for that very purpose. Then, he'd placed the talismans in a bark cylinder for Orinha to wear throughout the campaign, for as long as he was Kondaron's responsibility. After the campaign, he would ask Orinha to give him back the cylinder and help Orinha find his own guardian spirit. Kondaron had devised this solution so that all his warriors could go off to war with the best possible chance of success.

He was confident because his spirit was one of the most powerful. For as long as he could remember, his father and uncles had placed high hopes in him. They often told him he was born under a lucky star. And when the time came for him to leave childhood behind, all his family were convinced the change would do him good and the spirits would continue to support him. But the encounter that would change his life was still far away. After a week spent fasting alone in a small bark shelter, nothing had yet happened. Hunger tormented him, almost to the point of unconsciousness. He even feared he would have to abandon his quest. The spirits seemed to have abandoned him. Without warning, a violent storm erupted. In the small bark shelter swept by the wind and rain, Kondaron was terrorized. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder reverberated throughout the forest. Suddenly lightning cracked right where Kondaron was looking. Dazzling white-hot light flooded over him for minutes at a time. The trunk of a fir tree shattered and fell, very slowly, heavily toward him, like a giant shadow looming in the blinding light, its top gently brushing past his arm, like a caress…

When the storm was over, Kondaron could see again and realized it had been the encounter he had been hoping for. The spirit of the Thunderbird, one of the most powerful, one of the most formidable, had shown itself with all its might and touched him, transfigured him. The Thunderbird was his guardian spirit. Kondaron then broke off the top of the fir tree and gathered some of the scorched trunk. Back home, he secretly put them in a leather bag he had made, the same bag he wore to this day, the bag that had always brought him luck.

E
ACH TIME
O
RINHA
found sleep, a frightening dream hit him: an enemy cracked his skull open, he fell into a precipice, the Erie devoured him. He woke up with a jump and, eyes wide open, gazed for a moment at the thousands of stars glistening in the infinite sky. The wind rustled the leaves, which stirred in the night. The peace and quiet calmed him a little. But he realized he did not understand the link between the message of peace from the great prophet Deganawida and his father's desire to have them sow terror to the ends of the earth. Why must salvation for all involve the death of so many? There was something in this way of thinking that he could not quite grasp.

Once again sleep overcame him.

In the early hours of the morning, Ganaha awakened him with a violent shake. Orinha was the only one still asleep. All the other warriors were preparing to leave, their faces daubed with war paint, weapons at the ready, impatient and nervous. When he saw the painted face leaning over him, Orinha leaped to his feet, ready to fight for his life. The scene reminded him of the day he was captured. But by then he was awake. He recognized his brother and pulled himself together. There wasn't a minute to lose. Ganaha painted broad strips of brown, black, and red over his face as Orinha swallowed a piece of cold meat. He picked up his musket, his tomahawk, his bow and his arrows, checked that the medicine bag Kondaron gave him was still there, around his waist, and caught up with the others. They ran to the river and flung their canoes into the water.

“I'm going with you!” Orinha shouted after his brother.

“Kondaron knows. We will always fight together. Don't worry.”

Orinha, Ganaha, Otasseté, and Shononses teamed up in one of the big canoes. Atotara climbed into the second with Kondaron, Tahira, and Deconissora. Tahonsiwa and Thadodaho took their places in the small canoe. The two young warriors led the war party as it set off toward the Erie fishermen.

ATTACK!


T
HE MEN PADDLED RESOLUTELY
up the stream. It was still in flood and they advanced easily, sometimes carrying their canoes over obstacles or eagerly beating a path along the bank. As soon as they reached the lake where Orinha and Atotara had spotted the Erie fishermen, they hid their canoes in the woods and set out around the lake on foot. At about midday they caught sight of the fishing huts. Kondaron went on ahead to scout around. When he returned, he whispered: “I counted five men and four women gathered around the huts. I don't see anyone on the lake. We'll attack without muskets. Everyone ready.” Orinha thought it just as well he persuaded Atotara not to attack using their firearms. He threw his companion an accusing look, which Atotara pretended not to see. Ganaha whispered into his brother's ear: “They don't stand a chance. It's going to be a breeze.” Their chief moved ahead and motioned the others to follow him: “On my signal,” he whispered, “we all attack at once.”

Taking every precaution as they crawled through the high grass, they drew closer to the unsuspecting fishermen closer and closer along the shore. Suddenly Kondaron let out a terrifying cry, stood straight up, and fired an arrow into the closest man. Eight other Iroquois followed suit, roaring at the top of their lungs. A flurry of arrows struck the Erie, as the warriors stormed the helpless fishermen. Orinha was so surprised at how fast everything was moving that he was always a second behind his companions. In an instant, the Iroquois had leaped on their prey like wolves: one struck a runaway down with his tomahawk; the others clubbed anyone who tried to resist. Orinha struck a man that Ganaha had wounded and finished him off. A woman sprawled on the ground was easy pickings for him. The skirmish lasted only a few seconds. No Erie survived.

The ten Iroquois then scalped their victims, proudly holding their prizes up and shouting with joy. As a precaution, Ganaha ran over to the huts to make sure no one was hiding there. Orinha followed him. The first was empty, but an old woman was in the second, paralyzed by fear. Without any hesitation, Ganaha dispatched her with a blow of his club to the head. Orinha, distraught at his brother's violent reflex, could not hold back: “What did you do that for? She wasn't doing anybody any harm!”

“Not so,” Ganaha replied calmly. “She could have told the others there were only ten of us and the Erie would have hunted us down. Think about it, Orinha: we're far from home with nobody to help us. There are thousands of Erie here, all around us. There's no mercy: it's them or us. Take her outside; then come with me. There's something else we have to do.”

Orinha threw the woman's body, still bleeding, over his shoulders and added it to the pile of mutilated corpses. Ganaha took her scalp and Kondaron handed one to each warrior. All were happy to display the sign of victory on their belts: ten enemies down, without danger or injury! Orinha was not used to revelling in death and felt uncomfortable with a bloody scalp hanging from his belt. The image of his friends' scalps flashed before him. But he forced himself to think like an Iroquois: every scalp compensated for the death of a warrior fallen in battle. He thought of Orinha, Garagonké's real son, whom he was replacing, whose tragic death he had now made amends for. Now he was fully entitled to bear his name. Orinha said to himself, “So be it: a balance needs to be restored between the spirit world and our world.” The thought brought him comfort.

It was time to decide what to do next. Kondaron suggested they find the village where the fishermen were living to carry out a surprise attack before the Erie discovered the massacre and mounted a defence. He wanted to strike like lightning while they still could. Everyone agreed with the strategy. They grabbed any objects of value belonging to the fishermen: charms, pipes, headbands, an old iron knife. Then they threw the bodies into the lake after weighing them down with rocks.

Before Kondaron led the group west, where he believed they would find the enemy village, Ganaha gave Orinha some advice: “Keep your eyes peeled. If Kondaron and I are killed, if we all die apart from you, you must find your way back to the canoes and flee to our village to tell everyone about our victory and how bravely we fought. Keep your wits about you, Orinha. Your life depends on it. And I promise you that if you die and I survive, I will tell our father Garagonké how well you fought.”

They covered the distance on the run, in Indian file, bent double so no one could see them. Orinha stayed on Ganaha's heels, registering every landmark ten times more carefully than usual. As the hours went by, in spite of his fatigue, he thought about his attitude, telling himself that the next time they attacked, he would have to react instantaneously, just like his companions. That was what a real Iroquois warrior did: he exploded and showed no mercy. Orinha felt sick at the thought of the poor fishermen they had surprised and massacred just because they were Erie. But he understood: kill or be killed was the iron law. War was without mercy.

They kept running, but slower, so as not to tire themselves out. Silence and vigilance were their watchwords. At the head of the group, Kondaron seemed to know where he was leading his warriors. Ganaha and Orinha were right behind him. Shononses, their best archer, brought up the rear. When evening came, they stopped to regain their strength and eat the fish they took from the fishermen. These they cooked over a tiny fire that they put out as soon as they could lest someone see the smoke. Otasseté and Tahonsiwa took turns standing guard through the night.

In the early hours of the morning, they were awakened by women's voices singing, echoing in the distance. The troop headed toward them right away. After a few minutes' walk, they saw the women hoeing the soil around young corn shoots. Kondaron made a long detour around them. He and his companions soon came within sight of a large Erie village surrounded by a high stockade. They stopped at the edge of the wood, crouched in the undergrowth, weapons in hand. The village was no more than one hundred paces away. This time Kondaron motioned to his warriors to use their muskets to terrorize and kill or wound as many Erie as possible.

Kondaron's plan was to wait until the women returned from the fields before attacking. The women would walk right by them, no doubt accompanied by a few men, and the gate to the village would open to let them in. They would use the confusion sowed by their musket salvo to quickly attack the village and take prisoners, before making their escape.

The plan was a good one, but waiting under the burning sun was easier said than done. They had nothing to drink and hunger gnawed at them. Ganaha could not take it any longer and motioned to Orinha and Shononses beside him that he was going to try to get into the village to get water. “Its sheer madness!” thought Orinha, afraid that his brother wouldn't come back and would spoil their plan. But he could not raise a fuss for fear of drawing attention to the troop. Helpless, he looked on as his brother crept away, walked around the stockade to the back of the village, and disappeared. Orinha despaired! The wait was unbearable. Parched and terrified, he had to make a superhuman effort to stay hidden.

At last, deliriously happy, Orinha saw his brother reappear at the foot of the stockade. He was carrying a huge leather water skin and broke cover to run over to the undergrowth where they were hiding. “He's so brave!” thought Orinha. If there had been sentries posted on top of the stockade, if the Erie had been the least bit suspicious, they would surely have spotted him. Ganaha lay down in the high grass, tired but proud of himself. He crawled over to Orinha and Shononses and gave them a drink. The fresh water invigorated them. Ganaha's daring fired their courage. Ganaha moved from one warrior to another to quench their thirst. When he reached Kondaron, he explained that he found a way into the village through a gap in the stockade. It had been risky, but Kondaron did not dare chide him, since the water was so welcome and everything had worked out so well. His plan remained unchanged, and Ganaha returned to his post beside Orinha, who was now galvanized by his brother's daring. Trembling with excitement, he promised himself he would be just as extraordinary when they next attacked.

The sun was setting on the far horizon when the group of women finally made their way back to the village. Orinha counted eleven women and five men. They were carrying stone tomahawks and long wooden tools for working the soil. Only two men were armed with bows and arrows. Orinha was tense in the extreme as he awaited Kondaron's signal. He could already hear the Erie chatting among themselves and paid close attention to the strange sound of their language, which he had never heard before. The Iroquois chief waited patiently, hoping the guards would fling the gate to the village wide open so they could rush in and fire at all the Erie within range.

But a sharp-eyed woman spotted one of the Iroquois hiding in the bushes. She shouted and pointed at him to sound the alarm. The two archers prepared to fire at Atotara and Tahonsiwa while the rest of the Erie ran for the village. Kondaron knew there was still time to intercept them and answered the woman's cry with a blood-curdling scream of his own, which had all his warriors charging out from their hiding place. Ten shots rang out at once, and two of the Erie collapsed to the ground. The wounded hobbled on as the Iroquois closed in on the enemy, brandishing their knives. Four men stood their ground to fight.

Orinha attacked right away and struck the wounded man nearest him as hard as he could. The Erie could not avoid his club and collapsed in a heap, lifeless. Then, Orinha went after the Erie who were trying to get away, without a thought for the archer behind him, who had him in his sights. Fortunately, Ganaha had his wits about him and leaped on the archer, stabbing him with his knife. Orinha caught up with their fleeing victims just as the guards were hesitantly opening the gate to the village. The young Iroquois warrior didn't even think twice about grabbing one of the women by the hair, tossing her to the ground, then yanking on her locks to get her to run the other way.

Ganaha killed the only man who tried to run away, throwing a tomahawk at his back. He then rushed to help Otasseté, who was having trouble overpowering the second archer to take him prisoner. Tahira stood in the way of a woman and easily captured her, but she bit him and ran away. Tahira caught her and killed her with a blow from his tomahawk. Meanwhile, Kondaron and Shononses seized a man by the waist and were struggling to take him prisoner. But he put up such resistance that they beat him harder still and finally killed him. Kondaron scalped him while Tahonsiwa and Deconissora cut the throats of two injured women who were trying to crawl back to the village. Quickly they scalped them and walked off with their trophy. Ganaha recovered his tomahawk and scalped the dead man. Shononses grabbed hold of a slightly injured woman who was playing dead and dragged her behind him.

Cries were coming from all sides. Nine bodies littered the ground. Only four women had managed to escape. Several Erie archers had now taken positions atop the village stockade, firing arrows down at them. Orinha shoved his prisoner harder to hurry away from the danger. Kondaron shouted for all the warriors to leave— now! Arrows were whistling around them. The chief stood his ground for a moment to make sure all the Iroquois were accounted for, then moved to the head of the troop and fled, bringing two women and a man with them without stopping to collect the scalps of all their victims. Too risky.

The Iroquois ran flat out, dragging or shoving their prisoners, who were also running for their lives. Orinha saw blood everywhere; his ears were still ringing with cries of terror. He kept hold of his prisoner like a living trophy, drunk with victory. Even though their plan had almost come to naught, they were once again victorious and everyone had escaped unscathed. It was true that the spirits were with them. But Tahonsiwa, turning round, saw a hundred warriors pour out of the village and come after them in hot pursuit. They were not out of the woods yet. Faster and faster they ran, to save their skin. As far as they could go they ran, breathless, exhausted. They did not stop until nightfall.

As the moon was almost full and the sky cloudless, they had no difficulty seeing what lay ahead of them. Kondaron decided that he and his companions must go on. They waded down a river to disappear without a trace. Come morning, the two women were exhausted. One was injured, the other livid. They were slowing the troop down too much. Kondaron ordered they be executed, for the safety of the group. Shononses cracked his prisoner's skull open with his tomahawk. But Orinha couldn't bring himself to kill his prisoner in cold blood; she tried so hard to save her life. He asked Ganaha to kill her instead, and felt sick to his stomach when the two bodies were scalped then flung into the river, grim victims of the frantic flight. It was a cold calculation: the lives of the Iroquois against their own, their deaths bereft of glory or defiance, a question of speed, no more, no less. They set off again, moving as fast as they could until evening, lungs on fire, throats red raw, muscles shaking, fear in the pits of their stomachs. The survival instinct of animals.