Crown of Serpents (16 page)

Jake rolled his eyes.

“Atotarho’s Crown of Serpents involves the birth story of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy — the beginning of true democracy in the year 1142 A.D.”

“So you believe 1142?” already interrupted Jake. “Most scholars believe The Great Law of Peace was established between 1450 and 1500, not 300 years previous.”

Lizzie’s eyes shot open and she snapped at him. “And most modern-day scholars believed Christopher Columbus was the first to discover America in 1492! But keepers of our oral history have known it was the Norse Vikings who visited here first. And that was in the 1100’s! Next came Irish monks, Celtic Druids, Scottish traders, and Basque fishermen. This was hundreds of years before the brand name explorers claimed our land for their kings and queens. Bet you never heard that version before!”

Jake’s eyebrows rose at her feisty reaction. “Point taken.”

She wasn’t finished. “Young man, our oral history is more accurate than any American textbook could ever explain. Example, the academics like to say the Iroquois were peaceful once the five nations united. A crock! They were only peaceful to their sister tribes within the Confederacy. All others who disagreed with them were butchered or taken as slaves. What do you think happened to the Huron and the Algonquin? How about the Erie and the Mahican? All killed by the war mongering Iroquois as they expanded their empire under the Great Law of Peace. So, don’t kid yourself boy.”

Joe chuckled from the kitchen. “Oh Jake, now you’ve really set her off. Lizzie, your tea is coming right up.”

She continued, quieter. “The time before the five nations united was a troubled time of blood revenge between tribes. An eye-for-an-eye. Our people considered it normal to kill those who had killed our loved ones. When an offender was taken captive he was tortured slowly while being burned at the stake. This was the common practice in order for the tribe to absorb that person’s spirit — and in turn end the mourning inside the clan. This cycle of violence had no end. Terror and oppression ruled the lands. Cannibalistic rituals and atrocities against one another were our early forms of religion. And in this period of chaos emerged the most terrifying and powerful of all the dictators — the wizard Atotarho of the Onondaga Nation.”

Joe arrived with a cup of tea and set it on the reading table next to Lizzie. He plunked down in a chair across from Jake.

Lizzie reached for her tea. “He ruled with a brutal war hammer and quick tomahawk. He controlled the pre-confederacy tribes of the Seneca, Cayuga, Oneida, and Mohawk. His territory stretched across New York State’s present day borders but was centered near Syracuse.”

“Wait, I thought he was a renowned charismatic leader, a courageous man and a heroic warrior,” stated Jake with a wave of his hand.

Joe piped in. “He was to his own Onondaga people. They turned him into a superhuman figure — kind of like a George Washington — but that was only
after
he allowed his nation to join the Confederacy. We’re still talking about the years
before
the unification — the time when we were killing our fellow neighbors. The truth was Atotarho was a tyrannical Saddam Hussein to his own people. Those who challenged him were executed or simply disappeared. But most of all though, he brutalized our Seneca ancestors.”

Lizzie interjected. “Your Cornell University education taught you the sanitized, don’t-hurt-my-feelings version of our history. That’s what I’m hearing from you, young Jake. Truth is, Atotarho had oppressed our people and our neighbors, the Cayuga, for so long that no one would stand up to him.” She leaned forward, pointed her finger in Jake’s face, and spoke in a low, dry voice. “But his true power came from that crown. The snakes weren’t just a saying, but part of an actual ancient relic that he possessed.”

Jake pulled back, not sure he believed her. As a youth he had learned the general history of his ancestry, but he was more interested in trying to get off the reservation rather than wholeheartedly embracing Iroquois beliefs and culture.

Lizzie coughed aloud. She urged Joe to explain where the crown came from. Her little pet Chihuahua tap-danced over and jumped back up on her lap.

Joe turned to his nephew. “The Faithkeepers tell us that a young Atotarho went on a rite of passage journey with his top Onondaga war captains to seek out a fabled empire inland past the Western Door of Seneca lands. They followed the Ohio River west until they came to the Great Mississippi. Thereabouts, they made contact with the most sophisticated society of prehistoric North America. We know them today as the Cahokia Mound Builders.”

“I’ve read of them,” nodded Jake. “Archeologists have discovered over 100 of their burial mounds. Their ancient city had tens of thousands of inhabitants before it was mysteriously abandoned.”

Joe nodded. “This was a peaceful, spiritual nation — at one with earth — farmers, not warmongers. As visitors, Atotarho and his war party were invited into the city. But Atotarho saw this invitation as a stepping-stone to gain personal prominence. One day he observed the tribe’s eldest clan mother or queen in a secret dream ceremony. She wore a silver crown molded with snakes. This crown was all-powerful. It allowed her to maintain mental control over her people and to heal them with supernatural forces.”

Lizzie cut in. “This crown was said to have originated from an even older civilization native to the American southwest, from what the Faithkeepers could determine from the story. The serpents were a universal symbol of wisdom and knowledge, not just of evil. They had dual meaning but it depended on the wearer’s intentions.”

“Okay,” said Jake, in a tone marking that he still wasn’t convinced.

“And Atotarho wanted it,” said Joe.

Jake grunted. “Of course.”

Joe ignored him. “He wanted to wield its power, to take it back home and conquer the blood-thirsty tribes threatening his Onondaga people. In a fit of greed he slit the great queen’s throat as she slept and stole the crown, then he and his war party slipped away.”

“Not so courageous was he?” asked Lizzie, rubbing her pet dog behind its ears.

Jake played along with their story. “No, sounds like a true coward. But then again it depends on who is writing history.” He didn’t dare look at Lizzie.

Joe shifted in his seat. “The Mound Builders went into decline after the theft of their most sacred relic. By 1400 the civilization was gone. Their history was over.”

Lizzie took over. “When Atotarho returned to Onondaga territory he brought with him a fearsome reputation. Of those in his war party who made it back, only his closest friends survived. The elder chiefs had mysteriously died along the journey home — at the hands of Atotarho it is said. Thereafter, he took immediate control of the tribe using the powers of the crown to perfection. He turned into an evil sorcerer, a wizard, because of the things he could do with the silver snakes on his head. All opposition to him in the Onondaga tribe withered away. He then set about to conquer the neighboring nations.”

“How did this crown let him do it? How did it work?” asked Jake, a bit interested now.

Joe was about to answer when Lizzie held up her hand to silence him. In a raspy voice, she explained. “It gave him the magical power to read your mind and interpret your dreams when you slept. First he would knock you unconscious with a powerful blast to your mind, then in your incoherent state he would pull the thoughts out of your head. This technique was used not only for the extraordinary medicinal and healing purposes —” She paused then coughed hoarsely before going on. “But also to enslave your living spirit to use as he saw fit. And then after you entered the world beyond the sunset — death — he could still conjure up your spirit when he wanted to.” Lizzie gurgled in her throat and could not speak any further.

Jake seemed a bit confused at her explanation.

Joe looked into Lizzie’s teacup to check on a refill then picked up where she had left off. “This mind mapping, I call it, only worked when the subject was in sleep paralysis. With the crown on, it was said that Atotarho would then press his hands upon your head and go into a deep clairvoyant state where he would pull out and interpret your exposed subconscious inner thoughts and dreams.”

“Sort of like a medium,” offered Jake.

Joe angled his head. “Sort of. These thoughts are the things that make up the core of a person, exposing the spirits that reside in your body and determining what those spirits want the most. By knowing your soul’s desire Atotarho had the power to fulfill or take away those desires. It acted as food for the mind. Once he tapped in, he could control your supply and demand.”

Jake stared straight ahead, lost in a past action — Afghanistan. Some spirit definitely tapped into him when he did what he did.

Joe lifted his big frame off the chair and scooped up Lizzie’s empty teacup. He started toward the kitchen but instead turned back to his nephew and lightly smacked him on the shoulder. Jake jumped.

“Jake, it’s based on our traditionalist beliefs that all natural forces contain immortal spirits. It’s why we worship the sun, moon, stars, trees, animals, and fire. It’s why we believe in a life beyond the sunset. It’s classic orenda, a person’s unique aura or charisma about them. Possessing more orenda turns you into a great leader or warrior, versus otkon, the evil energy or bad thoughts. A normal human being always wants to find and keep orenda and expel otkon. Atotarho instead, reversed it. He tapped into the evil and used it for his own means. You get it?”

Jake tipped his head. Joe turned and walked in the kitchen for the tea refill. There was silence among the three. When he returned, he sat down on the couch next to his nephew and continued with the story. Lizzie gulped her fresh tea, seemingly relieved.

“Atotarho always wore the crown,” explained Joe. “It became his identity. The crown was said to have had hideous twisted snakes made of pure silver and painted to look real. He let his hair intertwine with the snakes for added effect and even added buck’s antlers and eagle feathers to pronounce his monarchy.”

Lizzie grunted in a hoarse voice. “It was a silver crown of power, once used for healing and wisdom, but turned into an evil vessel of hatred and deceit.”

“And as his power grew, his spirit became embedded in the crown. The crown then transformed his body as a result,” added Joe. “His own hair turned silver and seemed to literally mesh with the snakes. He became grotesque looking, misshapen, his face disfigured. Now can you see how otkon took hold of him, how the myth and the truth merged as legend?”

Jake was sufficiently mesmerized. “Okay, you’ve captured my attention. There’s a lot to digest here, but how does this crown fit in with the White Deer Society and the symbols on the broach that I found today.”

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. “Remember this Jake, you did not find the broach. It was never lost. It was simply revealed to you at the right time.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good,” replied a satisfied Lizzie. “The White Deer Society formed in the time when the three great founders of the Iroquois Confederacy emerged — Deganawida, Hiawatha and Jecumseh. It starts when Atotarho murdered the family of Seneca chief Hiawatha — his wife and seven daughters — over a hunting ground dispute. Afterward, Hiawatha went into depression and lived a hermit’s life in the forest.”

“Some say he lived near the present day Irondequoit Bay up near Rochester,” stated Joe.

Jake agreed, familiar with the creation story of the Confederacy. But as Lizzie started up again he checked his watch then cut her off to save time. “And a Huron named Deganawida crossed Lake Ontario in a white stone canoe, met Hiawatha and pulled him out of depression. They came up with the concept of a unified democratic confederacy of peace to stop the cycle of violence. They were joined by Seneca Clan Mother Jecumseh, and the three of them traveled to the other tribes to convince them to band together.”

“Well, it all worked out great,” picked up Joe. “They had the approval of the four nations under Atotarho’s rule. They needed one more to form the confederacy, his — the Onondaga. When they approached Atotarho and his nation with the idea, he wouldn’t have any of it.”

“Of course,” said Jake.

Joe agreed. “But Atotarho was facing a coalition who now surrounded him and the pressure to join was intense.”

Jake knew the tale. “And this is when Hiawatha persuaded Atotarho to join him — by singing a calming song and acting like a psychiatrist to comb out the evil serpent thoughts from his hair. I’ve always been amazed he could forgive the murderer of his entire family to join his cause.”

“Wrong!” spouted Lizzie. Her pet dog twitched. “He never forgave him! The truth is they hatched a plot to steal his crown to make him capitulate power — to force his nation to join. And they did it! They drugged Atotarho and stole the crown when he slept. Ironic, isn’t it?” Lizzie gave a disturbed cackle.

“That’s when the White Deer Society was formed,” prompted Joe. “The three founders escaped back to Seneca territory in the area where the sacred white deer lived. They secretly hid the crown deep underground in a cave network that follows a subterranean river. Our ancestors knew every inch of the aboriginal territory and knew of every entrance to this underworld. They knew where to hide the relic and once it was concealed the society was formed to guard against a resurgence of Atotarho’s otkon power so it never returned to the surface again. They extracted silver from the crown and created a series of jewels or broaches with the guardian’s mark. Thus, the symbol of the white buck — the good — eating the snake — the evil, was born. Conversely, it could also be a symbol for the purity of the white buck encasing wisdom — thus a vessel of the good or orenda.”

Lizzie grunted then quietly spoke. “The White Deer guardians were the most ancient and secretive of all the false-face societies. And true to the maternal tradition of our people, Jecumseh was appointed leader of the guardians. Clan mothers chose those who got in just as they elected who would be chief of their nations.” Her voice started giving out. She looked exhausted.

“It’s even more ironic if you ask me, that the most ancient of fraternities, the Freemasons, have unwittingly kept this secret hidden for the most ancient of Iroquois societies,” said Joe.