Adventures of Radisson (10 page)

But negotiations were not easy. A few members of the Wolf clan were insisting on vengeance and compensation. “Why spare the life of a Frenchman? They are our enemies!” some said. Not to mention that the death of this one Frenchman would only begin to make up for the loss of the three young Iroquois he had been with. Sparing Radisson might anger the spirits of the ancestors and lead to more sorrow, others said. But Katari was resolute. Losing two sons had been painful. But she did not want to see an innocent man die, a promising young man she believed in. So she fought, she argued, she insisted, and Garagonké supported her.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, at dawn, the ropes that held Radisson prisoner were cut. He fell immediately to the ground, then was picked up and carried into a longhouse where around fifty people had gathered. Two Iroquois took care of him, sat him down on the ground, and gave him a bitter herbal tea to drink to bring him around. Radisson wondered what was happening. Before him, old men smoked their pipes in silence. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, he recognized his father in the middle of the crowd, smoking with the others. Garagonké was wearing two long pearl necklaces and two wampums, and from time to time he stole a glance at his adopted son. Radisson realized that he was still alive, in his Iroquois village, and not in hell.

Seven or eight other prisoners— men, women, and children —were gathered behind him. A long series of speeches began in the Iroquois language. In turn, the elders expressed themselves expansively. Radisson did not understand a word. His pain was still too intense, his fatigue too great. Then silence fell over the longhouse and, suddenly, without warning, an old woman and two children were struck once over the head with a club. They died instantly. Radisson jumped as all the other prisoners were freed in a sudden flurry of activity. He was the only prisoner not to be executed or freed.

Garagonké, Katari, and Ganaha rose to their feet and stood in front of the assembly. Radisson was overcome with joy when he saw his brother Ganaha dancing and singing with his father and mother. Radisson hadn't seen Ganaha since he had run away, and knowing Ganaha was there filled him with hope. He watched his family closely, keeping an eye on their every move. Soon his mother stopped dancing. She lifted one of the magnificent wampums from around Garagonké's neck and placed it on the ground. Then she took the other necklace, laid it across Radisson's shoulders, and the whole family stepped back. The elders whispered among themselves and from time to time threw a handful of tobacco on the fire. The wait was unbearable for Radisson, who understood nothing of the ritual. Suddenly one of the elders motioned with his hand and hundreds of people lifted up the bark walls of the longhouse. Garagonké, Katari, and Ganaha reappeared, accompanied by Radisson's two sisters. Garagonké went over to Radisson, took the wampum from his shoulders, and threw it at the feet of one of the elders. He said a few solemn words and cut the ropes that still bound Radisson's hands. Then he helped him up, telling him to rejoice for he had been saved. He was a free man: the Iroquois had forgiven him!

Radisson could barely believe it. Dizzy at the sheer joy that took hold of every fibre of his being, he found in an instant an extraordinary upsurge of energy that let him forget all his suffering. His Iroquois mother and father had given him back his life. He felt as though it was the very first day of life in the world. His heart exploded with overwhelming gratitude toward his parents. He sang in a powerful voice with his father, then hurried over to Katari to kiss her and hold his brother tight in his arms. Dozens of Iroquois sang and danced with them. The murder he committed— as though it never happened! His unforgivable actions—forgotten! The Iroquois spirits had produced a miracle!

Radisson could feel a whole new life coursing through his veins. He intended to take the opportunity granted to him to atone for his mistakes. In every fragment of his being, he was happy and proud to be an Iroquois, like his father, his mother, and all those who had pardoned him. “How sublime are Iroquois customs!” Radisson thought to himself as he sang his rediscovered happiness at the top of his voice, promising himself he would be worthy of his magnanimous parents. It was the happiest day of his life!

BECOMING AN IROQUOIS


T
WO MONTHS HAD PASSED
since Radisson was tortured; at last he had fully recovered. Right after his pardon, his mothers and sisters applied plasters made from crushed plants and roots that quickly healed his wounds. Only the nails on his right hand and his pierced foot took all that long to heal.

Fall was now well underway. Nearly all the men had returned from the war and devoted their time to hunting and fishing before winter came. Some of them also went on a trading expedition to the Dutch outpost that lay four or five days' walk from the village. They brought back cloth, wool blankets, iron tomahawks and knives, and also gunpowder and muskets, leaving the Dutch beaver pelts in exchange.

In the longhouse of the Bear clan, the atmosphere was much changed. Eighty people lived there permanently. Activity was intense as preparations for winter were in full swing. Long sheaves of corn hung from outside every longhouse in the village. The women spent their days pounding dried corn kernels to make meal, which they stored in big bark containers. They also harvested squash and beans from the fields. Meanwhile the men tended several fires, which they smothered with dead leaves until they began to smoke, then hung meat and fish over them to dry so that they would last the winter. All these provisions they stored in the longhouses, laying them out on the ground or hanging them from the ceiling. To prevent the dried corn from being burned or stolen, they buried some of it in the ground, in caches lined with bark. Finally, they stocked up on firewood and repaired all the longhouses, to keep out the snow and the cold over the winter months.

His injuries meant that Radisson could hardly help with the preparations. Even had he wanted to, he lacked the Iroquois' expertise and had first to watch them closely if he were to learn. Not being able to make himself more useful made him anxious and impatient. He was eager to prove his worth to his parents. But he kept his head down, asked nothing of anyone, and thanked them profusely every time his mother and sisters tended his wounds or Ganaha taught him about hunting, fishing, and the rudiments of war. Radisson's only goal in life was to learn how to become a good Iroquois but, like a child taking baby steps, he wanted to progress much faster. Changing cultures was no mean feat.

One day, Katari decided that her son had fully recovered and encouraged him to take part in the clan's activities. For the first time, she gave him permission to go hunting with Ganaha. Radisson felt great relief: at last, his real life as an Iroquois was beginning. It would be up to him now, up to him to show what he could do, to prove himself worthy of his pardon.

And so, one fine, crisp day in November 1652, Ganaha took him hunting with Gerontatié, a cousin from the Bear clan. After half a day's walk to the south, all three lay in wait. There wasn't much game so close to the village, but Ganaha wanted to go easy on his brother's foot. Despite their patience and vigilance and a few encouraging signs of big game, the three companions only managed to kill a hare on the first two days of the expedition. But hope kept them going, perseverance being the most important quality of any hunter. On the evening of the second day, faced with such a disappointing haul, Ganaha stood at some distance from the campfire for a long while and consulted with his guardian spirit, the spirit he had chosen when he became an adult, the spirit that watched over him. He returned to his companions with a broad grin: “Tomorrow we will find what we are looking for,” he said. “Now I know where to go. But we must remain on our guard because the signs the spirit sent me say there will be danger.”

The next day, all three got up early and made their way stealthily to the south, eyes peeled for the slightest trace of game. Curiously, Ganaha did not examine the ground as he had on previous days. He was waiting for an animal to leap out at them without warning. And that was exactly what happened: just as they reached the top of a low hill, they found themselves face to face with a huge bear. “There it is! Shoot!” cried Ganaha, opening fire on the animal with his musket. Gerontatié fired an arrow, then another, then another with impressive speed. But the bear was charging at them as though nothing had happened. Radisson took aim, waited for the bear to draw closer, and hit it right between the eyes— just as it was about to leap at them! Ganaha had already raised his tomahawk to fight the animal, but it fell at their feet, struck down by the musket ball Radisson had lodged in its brain.

The three men stood rooted to the spot for a moment, stunned but happy to have escaped the fury of this king of the woods. Then, they started to stamp their feet with joy, dancing all around their extraordinary catch. It was the biggest bear Ganaha and Gerontatié had ever seen. That evening, they stuffed themselves with the delicious meat and sang merrily, long into the night. Once he had bedded down, Radisson could not sleep from his excitement. “It's a good omen,” he repeated to himself again and again. “It's a good omen. I am Orinha, brother to Ganaha, son of Garagonké and Katari. I am a good hunter. I am Orinha. May the Iroquois spirits always be with me!”

The next morning at sunrise the three men cut the enormous animal up into three chunks and hauled it back to the village, dragging the pieces of meat behind them with ropes. When they arrived, as was the custom, they offered the meat to Katari and to Gerontatié's mother. But the mother of the Bear clan, grandmother to all the mothers in their longhouse, decided otherwise for it was she who ultimately determined where food for her clan ended up. Since the bear was an exceptional catch and there seemed to be plenty of it to go around, she wanted the meat to be shared among all clan members in a feast. Her decision was inspired by a dream she had had the night before the three hunters returned, which revealed to her that the enormous bear was a sign from the spirits. The meat would keep the whole clan strong, a clan that had once again been struck down by strange and devastating illnesses, as with every season when they traded with the Dutch. And so Radisson's first hunting expedition ended with a huge celebration and hope for the whole community. Outwardly, he appeared modestly pleased, but inside he was ecstatic.

WINTER
HAD COME
. Snow was building up on the bark roofs between the village dwellings, and in the forest. Soon, a few experienced groups of Iroquois hunters would leave to hunt moose for several weeks, far to the north and the east of the village. But for the time being, the men spent almost all their time around the fire, smoking and recalling war expeditions from the summer and previous years. Radisson could see how much their military exploits meant to the men in his community. Their talents and skills as hunters did not count for much in these endless discussions. The highest honour went to the victors; those who killed foes or brought prisoners back to the village. Others made much of the difficulties they overcame on their travels or laid out in great detail their battles against countless, hard-as-nails enemies to explain why they had no sought-after victories to their name. Always seated a little bit behind the others, because he had no such tales of his own to tell, Radisson listened closely to the stories. He was still too young to be a true warrior. In any case, hardly anyone showed the slightest interest in him, apart from Ganaha, who one day used him as an example as he recounted his expedition to Trois-Rivières. He told of how the two young Frenchmen accompanying Radisson were killed by warriors from the Bear clan, as he and his brother followed Radisson for an entire day, before capturing him and taking him back to the village to adopt him.

“I saw his courage when he went on alone,” said Ganaha, in a loud voice. “I saw his skill when he killed ten geese with two shots of his musket. I saw his cunning when he tried to give us the slip by hiding in the woods. Despite the long journey and despite the danger he sensed, I admired his determination as he hauled all the game he killed right back to the gates of Trois-Rivières. Ongienda and I were watching him all that time and he suspected as much.”

The fifteen men around the fire listened attentively to Ganaha's story. Radisson was amazed to discover that he'd been right to feel as though someone had been watching him that day. He was surprised to hear the account of that fateful day, the day his whole life changed, without feelings of regret or remorse. He had changed so much since then.

“On the way back here, I could see his desire to be at one with us. I saw he was a skilled fisherman and I saw his joy at sharing his catch with us. I saw his strength when he got the better of that arrogant Tangouen from the village of Sacandaga, who thought he was going to teach us a thing or two. And you all know how brave he was under torture. Not a peep out of him. Not a moan or a groan. He proved he was one of us. I'm telling you, my brother Orinha will be a great warrior. Give him time and we will all see his worth. Our family found solace in him when we lost our beloved brothers Orinha and Ongienda in combat. Long live Orinha!”

“Ho!” shouted the men to show their approval and give encouragement to Orinha, whom they now knew and were accepting more and more each day.

A little surprised at how he wanted to become a warrior, in line with Ganaha's plans for him, Radisson simply nodded his head in thanks. Now, such was his wish. If he had to become a warrior to earn the esteem of the Iroquois, to be loved and appreciated, then so be it. As for the two friends whose death he had just been reminded of, it all seemed so long ago that it was almost as if it had happened in a different life, as if someone else had ventured outside the stockade with François and Mathurin that day. Since then, the Iroquois had almost killed him and his life had taken a new turn. He had become Orinha and he couldn't have been happier. He had been given a second chance.

K
ATARI OFTEN VISITED
a man from the Bear clan who seemed highly respected by his own. He lived apart from the others and rarely participated in the gatherings where everyone so enjoyed recounting their exploits. He lived at the entrance to the longhouse and spent hours on end meditating in the area set aside for his family. Radisson was curious to learn who he was and asked his mother about him.

“He is our peace chief,” Katari replied. “Teharongara is the best negotiator in the Bear clan. He is the best at finding compromises and brokering alliances. He lives by the entrance to our longhouse so that each visitor may be welcomed in peace. But nobody listens to him any more. Nobody turns to him now. Since we wiped out the Hurons and the Dutch started giving us all those thunderbolts that kill, our men think only of war. But Teharongara knows a day will come when we will again have to turn to him. Even the fiercest warriors know that too.”

Radisson knew that his mother was an advocate of peace. He owed his life to her. But Teharongara was a man and, judging by what he had seen, Iroquois men went to war, not least of whom his father, a respected war chief. The more Radisson learned about Garagonké, the more he admired him, the more he wanted to please him and be like him, a man who had stood up to countless foes and won many remarkable battles, the scars of which covered his whole body.