Viking Gold (52 page)

Redknee
rejoined Sinead at the edge of the camp. She had Silver across her lap, her arm
curled protectively around his stomach, her fingers balled into a fist, tufts
of white fur protruding between her mud-stained knuckles. Silver was still
sleeping, but every breath seemed to wrack his too-thin body with pain.

Sinead looked up. “He’s a
fighter,” she said, her eyes glassy.

Redknee knelt beside her. He
spoke quietly. “Ragnar is moving out. He doesn’t want to be here when the other
clans arrive. Olaf and Harold are going with him … I’m not welcome.”

“I’m sorry.”

Redknee shook his head. “I’ve
no wish to serve Ragnar.”

“What will you do?”

Redknee shrugged. He hadn’t
thought about it. He wanted to ask Sinead to forget her father, to come with
him. But the words sounded stupid, jumbled in his head. Instead he watched as
Running Deer approached them carrying a bowl of water.

“I thought Silver’s wound
might need—” she began, her voice drifted off. She was staring at a spot just
behind Redknee. He turned. Deganawida stood in the shadows. The old man
shuffled forwards, his footsteps silenced by the carpet of moss. A shaft of
moonlight caught him and his white hair gleamed like ice against his weathered
skin. How long had he been standing there, Redknee wondered? Listening to their
conversation, taking stock of the camp.

Ragnar strode over. “What’s
he
doing here?” he demanded.

“He’s come for the peace
ceremony,” Running Deer said. “The weapons you dug up – they must be reburied.”

Deganawida
sat cross-legged beneath the White Pine and closed his eyes. Ragnar’s men cast
curious glances his way as they readied to leave, but they didn’t taunt him;
despite his years and apparent frailty, he had the other-worldly power of a
sorcerer. Hiawatha also kept his distance. But every so often Redknee saw him
cast an equally wary glance the old man’s way.

Redknee
recognised the beat immediately. It echoed through the trees, shook the very
ground. His chest tightened. He would know it anywhere. The sound of Bear
People war drums.

“I thought it was a peace
meeting,” he said to Running Deer.

“It is,” she replied, her
eyes anxiously seeking out her father.

Hiawatha heard it too. He
ordered his warriors to stand in a circle round the White Pine, bows at the ready.
Only Deganawida remained perfectly still. Though Redknee could swear he saw a
flutter of excitement behind the old man’s lids.

The chief of the Bear People
entered the clearing ahead of his tribe. He carried a war club in one hand and
a tomahawk in the other. His warriors fanned out behind him, facing Hiawatha’s
braves. Ragnar, far from fleeing, strode over, and greeted the Bear People
chief as an old friend. It seemed Ragnar had changed his mind.

They didn’t have to wait long
for the other four clans to arrive.
    
Running Deer explained for Redknee as each new clan
filtered into the uneasy space between Hiawatha’s men and the Bear People: the
People of the Standing Stones with their alleged power to vanish at will; the
People of the Great Hill with their single-feathered hats; the People of the
Hills with their two feathered hats. Last to arrive were the People of the
Swamp, who were easy to identify because of their mud-caked feet. Running Deer
said they made up for this by having the fanciest headdresses of all.

When everyone was assembled,
Deganawida stood on a small mound beneath the White Pine and began speaking.
Silence crept over the gathering, as one by one, the clans stopped to listen.
He didn’t raise his voice above a whisper, but every syllable was delivered
with the sweet crispness of a mountain stream. When he eventually stopped,
Redknee turned to Running Deer and asked what he had said.

 “He said the White Pine
is a good place to meet because the spirit force, which runs through all things,
is strong here. He wants to stop the fighting between the clans. He wants to
set up a council of leaders – or
sachems
– one from each clan, who will
meet here twice a year. He likened the land to a great longhouse – with each
clan given a role. The Flint People, my clan, will be Keepers of the Eastern
Door, the People of the Great Hill keepers of the Western Door and the People
of the Hills keepers of the Central Fire. He was asking permission of the
spirit force to hold the councils here.”

“Will the clans agree to
this?” Redknee asked.

Running Deer shrugged. “I
don’t know. It’s been done before, a long time ago, as you know. But it’s never
lasted. And now we’re on the verge of full-scale war.”

“What about your father,
Hiawatha. Will he agree to be part of this council?”

Hawk stuck his head between
them. “Hiawatha only ever agrees to what suits him.”

“That’s not true,” Running
Deer said.

“He promises his warriors
land, women, furs, if they’ll fight for him. How will he keep his power if there
is no war?” Hawk asked.

Running Deer shook her head.
“My father is a very spiritual man. He
wants
peace. He
wants
to
please the spirit force.”

Hawk snorted and turned
forward to face the proceedings.

Hiawatha had joined
Deganawida on the mound. He began addressing the crowd. He spoke faster than
Deganawida, moved his hands forcefully. Suddenly, a great cheer went up among
Hiawatha’s men and the People of the Great Hill. The other clans drew their
weapons. 

“What did he say?” Redknee
asked.

Running Deer opened her mouth
to speak, but Hawk cut her off. “Hiawatha believes the Flint People  and
People of the Great Hill, as protectors of the Eastern and Western Doors are
more likely to encounter hostile tribes and should be allowed additional
sachems
at the council,” he said dryly.

The Bear People started
stamping their feet on the earth and chanting. Clouds of dust rose into the
air.

“Oh no,” Running Deer said,
glancing fearfully at her husband, “that’s their war cry.”

Redknee watched as a chasm
opened in the crowd, the Bear People and People of the Hills on one side, the
rest of the clans on the other. Insults were lobbed at Hiawatha and his men. A
Bear People archer raised an arrow to his bow and took aim. Everything seemed
to slow … the archer uncurled his fingers … his arrow thrummed through the air
with dreadful finality. The scream that came from the Seneca warrior as the
flint tip lodged in his thigh sounded through the forest as a call to arms.

Deganawida moved with an
efficiency that belied his age. Gone was the shambling old man welcomed in
every village. He stood tall and straight, the years melting away as he leapt
between the two forces and held up a large strip of purple and white wampum as
if it were a shield of steel, fit to repel all foes.

The warriors watched him as
he spoke. His words rang scornful and proud. Running Deer translated as quickly
as she could, “
Is this what you want? To paint your story in blood? One day
you will be the ancestors. When your children’s children come to you for
advice, will you tell them to slaughter their brother? Or will you tell them to
live in peace, rich in land, and children and time?”

A murmur rippled through the
crowd as this was discussed. Hiawatha stepped forward. He looked uneasy. Again,
Running Deer translated. “
Perhaps I was hasty, the Bear People and the
People of the Hills will bring much to the council. Their representation should
be the same as … my people. What’s more, Tadodaho, esteemed chief of the People
of the Hills, should lead the council.”

The Bear People and People of
the Hills stared at each other, confusion writ large on their faces.

“Why is he doing that?”
Redknee asked. “Doesn’t he want to be leader himself?”

Hawk smiled. “My wife’s
father plays a dangerous game.”

Tadodaho stepped forward. He
wore his hair in many braids that hung down his back and squirmed like snakes
when he walked. “
I thank Hiawatha for his proposal. He thinks it will
convince me to join with him against my friends.”

Hiawatha laughed.
“The
Bear People are not your friends. Only yesterday their chief tried to convince
me to join with them in an attack against your lands.”

This time the Bear People
warriors drew their weapons alone. Tadodaho looked uneasy. The air crackled
with energy. Redknee could almost see the Tadodaho arguing with himself.

“Come, wise Tadodaho,”
Hiawatha said
, “I have already spoken with the
other chiefs. They would be glad if you were to lead the council – as first
among equals. Without the People of the Hills, whose lands lie in the centre of
our great longhouse, the confederacy of clans cannot work. You must take this
role.”

Tadodaho nodded. It was a
small movement, but it was enough to send a wave of cheers through the crowd.
Only the Bear People remained silent. Although sorely outnumbered, Redknee
thought their chief was going to order his warriors to attack. He even glanced
at Ragnar to see if the Northmen would fight for him. Ragnar pointedly avoided
eye contact.

The Bear People chief turned
from the clearing and motioned for his men to follow. The Bear People would not
be part of Deganawida’s great peace.

They
called Deganawida the Great Peacemaker. Running Deer said this event would be
remembered for a long time. New weapons were buried beneath the White Pine and
the tree itself was renamed the Tree of Peace. Deganawida asked all gathered to
send thanks to “He who Holds the Sky” for allowing the peace to be agreed.
 

Only the absence of the Bear
People cast a shadow. But Hiawatha seemed pleased as he danced and sang with
his warriors.

Hawk joined Redknee where he
was sitting quietly beneath the White Pine, still holding Silver.

“Why didn’t Hiawatha want the
Bear People in the confederacy?” Redknee asked.

Hawk shrugged. “I assume he
didn’t want his own influence diluted by such a powerful faction.”

The other Northmen were
joining in the celebrations. Sinead danced with Thinking Owl, laughing each
time he linked his arm through hers and spun her round. Even Mord was trying to
learn the steps of their intricate dance, despite the weight of his mailcoat.

Redknee nodded in Sinead’s
direction. “You think she’ll be happy with her father?”

“She won’t be with him for
long; I hear she’s to be married to a Norse prince – one of King Hakon’s sons.
Thought I doubt he’ll mention her former slave status. Probably say she’s an
Irish Princess – so often the facts are in the telling.”

Redknee
flashed a wry smile and rubbed Silver behind the ears. The pup blinked. He had
regained consciousness, but was still in a lot of pain.

“Do you know who?” Redknee
asked, thinking how his words of warning to Mord had been fatefully prophetic.

Hawk shook his head. “But I
could find out for you … if you want to know.”

“No. That’s all right.”

Hawk nodded and moved off to
join his wife who was dancing round the fire.

Redknee leaned back against
the trunk of the White Pine. He’d failed. In every respect. There
was
no
treasure. He’d hadn’t found his father; had failed to fulfil his mother’s dying
wish. His search had only brought him further from the truth. Now he didn’t
even know
who
his father was, never mind where he might be, or if he was
alive. His attempts had fallen on deaf ears. No one, it seemed, either knew,
cared, or would admit to knowing.

Sinead was right.
What did
it matter?
It wouldn’t change who
he
was. He would still be a
nobody; with no friends, no land … no future. He could see his life stretch
before him … an itinerant wanderer … perhaps he should join one of the
brotherhoods who raided the southern shores of Britannia, who welcomed anyone
with a strong arm and their own sword.

Of course, Sinead had changed
her attitude now she’d found her own father. Never mind that he was a murderer,
a henchman for King Hakon. Now she had a home, and a family, a place in the
world. Things that had been taken from Redknee.

“Deganawida wants to talk to
you.”

Redknee looked up to see
Running Deer standing over him, Deganawida at her side. The old man sat
opposite Redknee and stared straight into his eyes as he spoke. Unnerved,
Redknee didn’t know whether he should look away. Instead, he held the old
seer’s gaze.

When Deganawida stopped,
Running Deer translated.
“War, the glory and riches it brings, is a desire
my people have long nourished. Today they have buried their enmity with their weapons.”
She hesitated. Deganawida nodded that she should go on. Her voice sounded
almost apologetic.
“When you seek one truth with all your soul, it is easy
to forget the good things that have been around you all along. False idols must
be buried before you can find your destiny. Take Hiawatha. He’ll finish his
wampum now … now that he has put thoughts of war behind him, he will become the
great peaceful leader he was meant to be.”