Child of the Dead (33 page)

There had been a momentary expression of terror on the beautiful face at the last heartbeat, as the priest loosed the sacred arrow.
But the bride must die
, her mother had explained,
so that she may join her husband, Morning Star
.

It had been a shock, but Yellow Basket had been able to accept it. All of the adults seemed to understand, and the ceremony was obviously the most important event in the lives of the Horn People. The village had settled back into the seasonal routine, and the corn grew well.

Several years later, the Morning Star Priest had again announced that this would be the season for the ceremony. The village would wait for a vision to come to one of its warriors, which would reveal where to find the selected maiden. Morning Star would instruct the Wolf Man where to find his bride.

Yellow Basket had wondered about this for a little while, as the village waited for the vision to come.
If it is so great an honor, why is it given to a maiden of another tribe?
she asked herself. She did not speak of this to anyone else, and it was forgotten in the excitement and symbolism when the bride was chosen and brought to the village.

It was a maiden of the Kenzas, the South Wind People. She had been strikingly beautiful, and seemed well suited for her honored position as Morning Star’s bride. Yellow Basket, feeling the stirring of excitement in her own young womanhood, had experienced a strange sensuality
during the ceremony. It was an arousal that she did not understand, but she now assumed that it must be a part of the entire sequence of life. And the corn grew well.

That was a long time ago. Yellow Basket had married and raised her children. She could not remember how many times Morning Star had demanded a new bride over the years. It was an irregular interval. Only the Morning Star Priest, who watched the movements of the heavenly bodies and charted their positions, could determine when the ceremony must occur. Morning Star, as she understood the story, pursues his wife, Evening Star, across the sky. Sometimes the two are close together, Evening Star in her pale glory, Morning Star red with his passion. But often she runs away, and Morning Star must have a woman. The People, the Horn People, have been chosen to provide this new wife whenever he demands it.

Yellow Basket remained fascinated by the legend, and was greatly honored, after her childbearing years were over, to be selected as one of the priestesses to serve the Morning Star Princess. She had now participated several times. She was the eldest of the four now, and her office carried much prestige. A great deal of the responsibility for the unseen events inside the Morning Star lodge fell to her. The priest was in charge, of course, but the personal care of the Princess was assigned to her … Yellow Basket. The girl’s hair must be plaited exactly in the traditional fashion. She must be pampered and petted and honored.

Some of those selected had been better than others. There were those who fought the honor. It was possible, if the chosen bride remained reluctant, to administer a ceremonial drink concocted by the priest. That usually calmed the maiden’s doubts.

There had been one, a few years back, who had behaved very badly. Things had gone well until the time when the bride must mount the scaffold. The kicking and screaming when the priest’s assistants were forced to restrain her had been an embarrassment. The girl had continued to scream and shout in her own tongue until the sacred arrow flew. A few moments afterward, even. The corn had grown well. Moderately well, at least.
Maybe that was when Yellow Basket had begun to have doubts again.

Now she looked at the present Morning Star Princess, still flushed with anger. Tears streamed down the girl’s face. It had been unfortunate, the arrival of the young warrior who claimed to be her man. It had certainly upset the smooth progression of the ceremonial preparation.

Yellow Basket had rather liked this princess from the first. This one had spirit, and was worthy of Morning Star. Tall, quite pretty in a confident, dignified way. There was a look of eagles in the wide-set eyes, a vision of distance. This would have been a woman who was a good friend and neighbor under other circumstances. The girl had been on a quest of some sort. Yellow Basket had explained to her that
this
was her quest. It must be so. The Wolf Man had been led to her by the vision of Morning Star, had he not?

The old priestess felt just a trifle guilty about interpreting events to match the upcoming ceremony. The girl had been searching, wearing that amulet of the people to the north. Yellow Basket had not asked all about that. There was no need to know. She had nodded, with the implication that yes, this was part of the overall plan. She had allowed the girl to wear the pendant under her dress, because it seemed important to her. No harm, if it would keep her calm.

Then came the young man. It had been a foolhardy thing, for a stranger to ride headlong into a village of the
Pani
, the Horn People. The men might easily have killed him. Maybe it would have been better if they had. But maybe not. There would still have been the problem that they now faced.

The young stranger insisted that this was his wife. He obviously had strong feelings for the girl. And she for him, Yellow Basket thought, though the girl denied it. He
was
quite handsome. If she had known someone like that in her own younger years … No matter. The problem was simple. Which one was lying?

It would not have mattered, except that the sequence of the Morning Star Ceremony had already begun. If the young man told the truth, this girl was no virgin. For her to be offered to Morning Star as a bride
would be an unforgivable offense. Yellow Basket shuddered to think of the possible punishment that might be inflicted on the village by the wrath of Morning Star.

If the young man were lying, of course, the girl might still be a maiden. It had been assumed so, since the vision of the selected Wolf Man had led to this one. Yet, maybe not. Could this girl have only been in the wrong place, the wrong time? Did the Wolf Man make a mistake?

Yellow Basket had watched the argument outside, as the two principal figures accused each other of lies. It was hard to tell. She had been completely surprised at the command of the Morning Star Priest.

“Take her inside and see if she speaks truth!” he had ordered.

Now Yellow Basket took a deep breath. Here was a terrible responsibility. She glanced again at the proud girl, wiping the tears from her eyes.

If she tells truth
, thought Yellow Basket,
she is still a virgin bride for Morning Star
. The man would be killed because he lied. Both would die then, he at the hands of the men who now waited outside, and the girl later on Morning Star’s bridal scaffold.

If the examination indicated that the girl was not a maiden, but a wife, she would be useless, even dangerous, for the ceremony. The priest might still decide to kill them both, but who knows the mind of the Morning Star Priest?

Two lives depend on my findings
, Yellow Basket thought.
But what will I find?

“I am to find whether you speak truth,” she signed to the girl.

Mouse shook her head, not understanding. “What?” she signed.

Well, let us get it over
, thought Yellow Basket. She motioned to the other women.

In the space of a heartbeat the women had seized the girl and pinned her down on one of the bench-like beds. She struggled for a moment, then realized that it was useless. The struggles ceased.
At least her pride does not let her cry out
, thought Yellow Basket. She lifted the buckskin dress and ran a hand gently up the girl’s thigh. She did not know what to expect, but there
was no question. The girl was telling the truth. Her young man was lying. They had not married.

“What is it?” asked one of the women.

Yellow Basket gave her a scornful sidewise glance. “I tell only the priest,” she said.

The women released the bewildered girl, who now signed angrily. “What is happening?”

“Never mind,” signed Yellow Basket. “It is nothing.”

Her findings solved the problem, of course. The young man would be killed and the ceremonial preparations would go on.

Then a thought came to her. The man must have known about the Morning Star Ceremony, and what it implied.
But the girl does not!
she thought. The young suitor had been willing to risk his life … no, to
give
his life, to try to save her. Ah, that any woman should have so devoted a man! The eyes of Yellow Basket filled with tears. She wiped them away.

She stooped to emerge from the doorway, and straightened to stride across the open space to where the Morning Star Priest waited.

“There has been a mistake,” she said, throwing a withering glance at the Wolf Man standing beside the priest. “This man, the stranger here, tells truth. If we gave this woman to Morning Star, we might all be destroyed. The woman is this man’s wife, as he said. You should thank him for saving us from a bigger mistake!”

T
he two rode in grim silence. Antelope had tried repeatedly to initiate conversation, and each time was met with angry words and dark looks.

He did not understand what had happened back there at the village of the Horn People. The old woman had come out of the lodge, spoken to the priest, and a brief argument ensued. There appeared to be angry words between the woman, the priest, and one of the warriors, who seemed to be a leader of some sort. There were gestures toward the lodge and toward Antelope, and at one point he gripped his weapon to fight if needed.

Then suddenly, it was over. The disgruntled priest, with a last disparaging look toward the warrior, turned and began to sign to Antelope.

“Take your woman and go! Do not come back!”

The old woman was bringing Gray Mouse from the lodge. The girl looked angry and confused.

“My woman’s horse?” Antelope inquired.

“They are bringing it,” the priest signed, his face dark.

Mouse stood, looking from the priest to Antelope and back again.

“What? What is it?” she signed.

There was no answer, and she turned to Antelope.

“What have you done?” she demanded.

“Nothing, Mouse. We are to be allowed to go.”

“They have treated me well!” she shouted at him. “Your lies have spoiled it all!”

“Mouse, be still! You do not know …”

The priest stepped forward to intervene. “You should silence your woman,” he signed. “Here is the horse. Now go!”

A man was approaching, leading the bay. He attempted to help the girl mount, but she pulled away angrily.

“I do not know what you have done, Antelope,” she spoke at him, “but I do not like it!”

She dug heels into the flanks of the bay and cantered out of the village, with Antelope close behind.

“Wait!” he called. “You are going the wrong way. The People are to the south!”

“
Your
people,” she shouted over her shoulder. “
Mine
are to the north.”

She kicked the horse into a hard run before he could answer. It was some time before she drew rein. Both horses were blowing hard and Antelope had begun to fear that the animals would be injured.

“Mouse!” he began. “I must tell you about the Horn People, back there!”

“I know them, Antelope! Better than you. They respected me, honored me. Now that is gone. So I will find my own people. That is what I came to do anyway.”

She hurried on, though at a slower pace.
That is good
, thought Antelope.
At least she has not gone completely mad. She saves her horse
.

Realizing the futility of arguing with an angry woman, he rode silently. Once or twice he attempted light conversation unsuccessfully.

“Go on home!” she yelled at him. “I do not need you!”

He was tempted, but could not leave her. At least, not without explaining. No, he could not leave her anyway. He felt the need to support her quest, as one would for a sister or a friend. Yet his feelings for her were much deeper. He saw no alternative but to ride with her, to explain when the chance came. If, of course, he himself could understand what had occurred.

In the hurry to depart, and in Mouse’s anger, they had traveled somewhat farther than might be expected. By the time Sun Boy spread his paints across the western sky and prepared for the night, the
Pani
village was far behind them.

The girl chose the camping place, pulling her horse to a stop and swinging down. She said nothing, but began to gather sticks and tinder. Antelope watched for a few moments, and then gathered some fuel himself. He approached cautiously.

“May I share your fire?” he asked.

Mouse looked up, startled. Then their ridiculous plight seemed to dawn on her. She smiled thinly, not quite able to give up her anger.

“Maybe so,” she agreed.

He waited. He must not push her too hard. Maybe it would be better not to try to bring it up, but to wait for her to do so.

Mouse had no supplies, so he shared dried meat from his pack, and her attitude warmed a little. She sat staring into the fire, quiet and withdrawn.