Adventures of Radisson (16 page)

After a night of rest, the war party made an early start at first light, along with its only remaining prisoner. They headed due south, cutting through the woods. The branches and brushwood scratched their bodies as they went. From time to time, they forced themselves to follow a river or a stream, walking in the water to cover their tracks. The Erie had probably given up the hunt, but how could they be sure? Kondaron did not want to take the risk. He and his warriors would cover as much distance as possible so that their enemies would be afraid to venture too far from home. At any rate, they would have to continue the offensive in another region. Without saying a word, they suffered in silence and followed the tireless Kondaron.

T
HEY REACHED THE OUTSKIRTS
of a region badly damaged by fire. There they found little to eat, and hunger struck quickly. They set up a makeshift camp on a small hill, in the middle of a broad expanse of undergrowth that had started to grow back amidst the charred trees. From there, it would be easy to see the enemy coming. The undamaged forest was no more than an hour's walk away, and the warriors went off in threes and fours to hunt there during the day. But the game seemed to have abandoned the area and, more often than not, they returned empty-handed.

Kondaron wanted the prisoner to tell them where the Erie villages were, where the best hunting was to be had, and more about the region in general. But it seemed he would rather die than reveal anything to the Iroquois, despite the burns they inflicted on his body, despite the two fingers they cut off so he could never hold a bow again. In any event, the man did not understand Iroquois, or Algonquin, and the Iroquois did not understand the Erie language. Only Orinha thought he could make out the odd word. In the hope of getting the prisoner to tell them what he knew, Kondaron ordered that their meagre meal be shared with him. The decision didn't go down well; some members of the party even began to call their chief's authority into question.

Soon, a day of heavy rain made the situation worse. The warriors had nothing with which to protect themselves from the bad weather. It was all they could do to keep their powder dry. Tensions came to a boil the next day, when the Iroquois who'd stayed behind at camp heard three shots ring out in the distance, despite Kondaron's clear instructions to use only bows and arrows. Kondaron, Otasseté, Shononses, and Tahira immediately prepared to defend the camp while Ganaha and Orinha went off to scout the nearby forest. They waited anxiously at its edge, fearing the Erie had ambushed their companions. Then, more shots rang out.

At day's end Ganaha and Orinha were relieved to see that the others had come to no harm. The four hunters returned from the day's expedition with two small partridges, a hare, and plenty of swagger. They had used their muskets despite Kondaron's orders and clearly had no regrets. The situation was becoming intolerable. Before animosity shattered the group, they met to try and work things out.

All the members of the war party gathered together in a circle around a foul-smelling, half-burned fire. The exposed area around them only added to the feeling of destitution that had been weighing on them for days. Night fell. Tahonsiwa spoke for the defiant hunters. They'd made up their minds to use their firearms, he explained, when a deer bounded out of the range of their bows after their best efforts to hit it. They agreed they would have to use their muskets if they wanted to bring anything back. They managed then to bring down two partridges.

“You brought us to this wasteland, where we all might die of hunger,” Tahonsiwa continued, “and you won't let us use our muskets! It doesn't make any sense! Are you frightened of the Erie? If you are, you're no longer our chief. Deconissora, Thadodaho, Atotara, and I have had enough. The animals and spirits have all left. We say let's get on with it and attack the Erie. We want more victories.”

Tahonsiwa's words were met with uncomfortable silence. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Their contested chief thought long and hard before he replied.

“You speak well, Tahonsiwa. You are a brave warrior, and you did well to try to kill a deer that would have fed us for days. But you seem to forget that the Erie are many. They know their lands better than we do. We were fortunate enough to claim a second victory without losing a single warrior. But we have had to flee here to escape the vengeance of the enemies who are pursuing us. Until our prisoner can lead us to safety, we must continue to be careful.”

“And we've had enough of feeding the prisoner!” Tahonsiwa shot back.

“He must die,” added Thadodaho. “He'll tell us nothing.”

“You are wrong, Kondaron,” Deconissora said. “We must attack the Erie now, not risk this man sounding the alarm. Let's kill him and eat him, not feed him. You need to get back on track and lead us into battle as you promised.”

While the men protested, Kondaron fell silent, and attempted to reconcile their opinion with his own. Meanwhile, Ganaha, who was sitting to the right of Kondaron, looked at Orinha, Otasseté, Shononses, and Tahira to see what they thought. He wanted to keep faith with his chief, but felt him bending to maintain his authority and keep the group together. All were hanging on Kondaron's every word.

“So be it. We will execute our prisoner. We will also leave this hostile land, where even the animals no longer want to live. You are right, Tahonsiwa. It would be a bad idea to stay here any longer. But should we attack the Erie now or later? I want to know what each of you thinks. It's your turn to speak.”

“Let's attack!” exclaimed young Atotara, without a second's reflection.

“I will follow you, Kondaron,” said Shononses. “You are our chief and I am with you.”

Orinha glanced at Ganaha out of the corner of his eye, waiting to hear what his older brother thought before he spoke up, because he would rather be on his side, whatever happened, even though he wanted Kondaron to stay on as chief. He did not get on very well with Tahonsiwa, the ringleader of the rebels, who seemed to be the meanest member of the group, perhaps because of the deep scar that ran across his cheek, perhaps because he so rarely smiled. But he was surprised to hear his wise words now that he had gotten much of what he wanted.

“I will follow you into Erie territory until you decide the time is right to attack,” declared Tahonsiwa. “I have confidence in the spirits guiding you— if
you
have confidence in them again too! You are my chief and I will follow your advice. But let's not spend another day here. I see that you have understood my point of view and I am thankful for it.”

“I think the same as Atotara,” said Deconissora. “Let's attack the Erie as soon as we can! There is nothing to be gained by staying here.”

“Yes, let's leave now,” added Thadodaho. “I am still waiting to kill my first Erie and my tomahawk is growing impatient. I will follow our chief, provided he leads us quickly to the Erie. If not…”

Thadodaho did not finish his sentence, preferring to let the threat hang in the air and add to the pressure already on Kondaron. It was now up to the others to speak. Ganaha looked as though he wanted to hear what Otasseté— the oldest and most level-headed member of the group —and Tahira had to say, before he gave his own opinion. Otasseté understood and spoke up.

“Kondaron has shown wisdom in leading us here,” he said calmly. “He has protected us and ensured that each of us still has a chance to claim more victories. He thinks of our brothers, our sisters, and our parents, who want to see all of us come home alive. He has also shown wisdom by listening to Tahonsiwa, who spoke well: it is true that the time has come for us to return to enemy territory. But Kondaron can protect us, he knows how to lead us on to victory, and he is doing what must be done to keep us together. He is our chief and I will follow him to the very end. It is up to him to decide when we attack the Erie again.”

“I will do whatever Kondaron decides,” added Tahira simply, the more reserved of the two. “Long live our chief! May the spirits be with us!”

Ganaha was the only experienced warrior not to have spoken yet. He saw that Orinha did not want to speak right away.

“My father Garagonké is a war chief respected by all Mohawks,” he began. “He is known across the five Iroquois nations for having claimed countless victories against the Susquehannocks, the Mohicans, the Algonquins, the Neutrals, and the Hurons, as well as the French and the Dutch, who fought us unsuccessfully before becoming our allies. He chose Kondaron to lead our war party because, ever since he was born, powerful spirits have guided him and he has already proved he is a great warrior, not to mention a wise and sensible man, despite his young age. Like Otasseté— the oldest among us —said, I support Kondaron and will follow him right to the end. The decision to attack the Erie is his and his alone, when the time and place are right.”

Orinha was surprised to see that everyone was now waiting to hear what he had to say, as though his opinion carried as much weight as the experienced warriors who had grown up with war, as though it was up to him to cement or unravel the growing consensus.

“You have all spoken well,” he said with humility. “A young warrior like me is keen to absorb everything you say. Like Otasseté and Ganaha, I leave it up to our chief Kondaron. I promise to serve him faithfully and to help each and every one of you to the best of my ability.”

Ganaha and the other warriors were pleased at Orinha's attitude. He had understood his place in the group. Everyone was happy to see him learning quickly and maturing well. Kondaron had managed to re-establish his authority by accepting a quick return to Erie territory and agreeing to look for better places to hunt. Nevertheless, he remained serious and modest. He gathered his thoughts in silence, throwing a few handfuls of tobacco on the fire, as was his wont. Then he brought the meeting to a close:

“Let us thank the spirits for casting light on our discussion. Let us thank them for having kept our unity intact. It is our most valuable asset, if our expedition is to succeed. I thank Tahonsiwa for reminding me of my promises and steering me back on course. Tomorrow, we will return to Erie territory in search of a mighty victory. However, I ask each of you to be patient and to wait for a favourable occasion. We must avoid the fury of the Erie: they are courageous warriors and they vastly outnumber us. If we do this, we will all see our families again and they will be proud of us.”

A few hours later, Thadodaho took care of executing the prisoner, who was then roasted and eaten. In spite of his hunger and his willingness to imitate his companions in every respect, Radisson struggled to swallow the mouthfuls of human flesh. The meat rolled around his mouth like a foreign body, a poison that he had to force himself not to spit out. Even with his eyes discreetly closed to lessen his disgust, he found this particular Iroquois custom hard to bear. In his distress, images of his past life in Paris and Trois-Rivières briefly resurfaced. Now that his new life had brought him adventure, challenges, friends, and satisfaction in abundance, those images seemed strange and no longer moved him.

THE WIND CHANGES


W
EEKS PASSED
. After several days of cautious wandering, the Iroquois returned to the first encampment they'd built earlier, near the river. They felt safe there, for the Erie must surely have believed that they'd left the area for good. They were happy to find the powder and provisions they had stored, buried in bark containers. They also recovered the canoes they had hidden near the shore of the small fishing lake. Now they would be able to move around more easily.

Since they had left the barren region that put their unity to the test, they passed through any number of places that teemed with game. They wanted for nothing. But they still had not found the enemy they were looking for. Occasionally they would spot well-armed groups of three and four Erie, out hunting or moving goods. They also discovered a second fortified village, even bigger than the first, which must have been home to at least two thousand people, perhaps more. But Kondaron, supported by the group's leaders, Tahonsiwa, Ganaha, and Otasseté, decided not to attack targets that were too big or too small, so as not to leave themselves open to new reprisals from the Erie.

To avoid being found out, they kept to the borders of the Erie lands, constantly on the move, always in Indian file. They never spent more than two or three days in the same place and used their canoes only at night. And so they encountered fewer enemies. Since they had already killed twenty-two Erie and each boasted at least one scalp hanging from his belt, they preferred to keep the risk to a minimum and wait until the time was right for another great victory. Nevertheless, this strategy too was starting to put their patience to the test.

At last, a chance to ambush and kill the Erie presented itself. They spotted a group of thirty or so Erie far in the distance and tracked them for a whole day. By their estimate, the group numbered as many men as women. They were carrying goods in huge wicker baskets and seemed to be walking to a trading place, perhaps an Erie village, perhaps a village of another nation. Even though they were armed, they were clearly not on the warpath. The Iroquois now knew the region well enough to be certain that no Erie village or camp was less than a day away by foot. Their prey would be far from help. All the conditions for an Iroquois attack were falling into place. Under cover of darkness, Kondaron gave the order to move in.

In the morning, they saw that the group consisted of exactly twenty-one men and twelve women. From a distance, their long hair and identical leather clothing had led the Iroquois to first believe that women were carrying all the baskets, but such was not the case. Three scouts had already taken the lead when the group broke camp. Ten armed men guarded the twenty carriers, five in front and five behind the main group. Unless they were concerned about an Iroquois attack, such precautions indicated that the baskets contained valuables. Kondaron and his troop followed along a short distance behind them, to their right.

The chief kept Ganaha, Otasseté, and Tahonsiwa at his side to advise him. He motioned for them to come closer: “They seem tougher than we thought,” he whispered. “Do you still think we should attack?” All three nodded. “Then we have to surround them.” He pointed to Otasseté and Tahonsiwa. “You two take the left flank with Tahira, Deconissora, and Thadodaho. I'll stay with Ganaha and the others on this side. We'll surround them completely, on all sides, both front and rear. Our attack will throw them into a panic. Otasseté, when you are all ready, hoot three times like an owl. Then, attack on my signal.” Kondaron pointed to his musket and motioned that they would each fire twice from hiding before closing in to fight hand-to-hand. “I'll fire first,” added Kondaron. Then, each of you will fire in turn. Our weapons will terrorize them. Let's hope a few of them fall before we move in. All right, let's go!”

Kondaron sent Shononses up to the front on his flank. Atotara went between the two. Kondaron stayed in the centre, with Orinha and Ganaha taking up the rear. But it was much too risky for the other five warriors to outflank the Erie, then take up their positions all the way along the left flank. Those who had to move up front quickened their step. Alas, the manoeuvre drew the attention of an Erie guard, who caught a glimpse of Tahonsiwa running between the trees. He sounded the alarm immediately. The Erie stopped, closed ranks, and the carriers set down their baskets while the archers got ready to fire at the only enemy they'd seen. But Tahonsiwa hid behind a tree. The tension was thick enough to cut.

Otasseté hooted three times like an owl and Kondaron ordered the attack. He stood up from behind the ferns and realized that the Erie were watching their other flank. He took time to aim, then fired and crouched back down in the grass to reload. Nine other shots sounded, one after the other. The Erie did not know which way to turn. The women began to scream. Orinha was already scrambling back to his feet to fire a second round. He drew a bead on an archer whose back was turned, fired, and watched the archer fall face down to the ground. Orinha hid behind his tree again, rushing to reload his musket to fire a third time before Kondaron's signal. More shots rang out. Orinha could hear the Erie shouting and moaning, distraught.

When Kondaron got up to fire a second time, he saw that the Erie had regrouped. They'd formed a circle, protecting themselves behind their baskets. He could see bodies and a few wounded Erie writhing on the ground, but their strategy was paying off. From his hiding place, Kondaron counted the shots apprehensively, waiting for the twentieth before he roared for his men to attack. But before he had finished counting, Atotara stood up next to him, opened fire, and launched the attack. The Erie let fly with a volley of arrows at their one and only target, and the young warrior paid for his daring with his life. Two men pounced on him and finished him off with a stone tomahawk. Shononses seized the opportunity to dash out from his hiding place and fire an arrow at one of them from point-blank range. Orinha fired his third shot at the group of carriers. Still more shots rang out.

Kondaron let out his death yell and leaped from his hiding place at the same time as the eight other demons, letting fly with arrows and brandishing their muskets. The Erie were totally confused. Ganaha planted his tomahawk right in the heart of the man closest to him, who collapsed. The Erie replied as best they could, firing back with arrows, but hand-to-hand fighting had already begun. The Erie's wooden clubs and stone tomahawks banged noisily against the Iroquois' iron weapons. Cries and moans echoed through the forest as both sides lashed out, shoved, dodged, squirmed free, grabbed hold of each other. Enraged, they charged one another, lost hope and retreated. A handful of Erie braves fought on doggedly as others picked up their baskets, administered help to one of the wounded, and fled. None of the Iroquois gave chase. Four Erie kept up the fight and counterattacked the Iroquois with ferocity. When the last Erie had been beaten to the ground, Kondaron ordered his men to stay where they were, to avoid any ambush the survivors might have prepared. The bitter confrontation had left them all exhausted. A number of Iroquois were injured.

The Erie had shown astonishing courage and energy, despite being surrounded by the Iroquois with their superior weapons. A good twenty of them had survived the attack and managed to escape. Fifteen or so remained on the battlefield, killed or wounded. The Iroquois, breathless and wild-eyed, counted themselves fortunate to have come away with the victory.

Atotara had taken three arrows full in the chest and a tomahawk-blow to the head. He was still breathing weakly, but had no chance of surviving. A tomahawk had shattered Shononses's right arm; he groaned in pain. Tahira snapped off the arrowhead that had pierced his thigh and bravely pulled out the rest of the shaft, grimacing with pain. Deconissora was trying to stop the bleeding after an Erie warrior's stone tomahawk had left him with a gaping chest wound. Orinha and the others had only cuts and bruises. Without the muskets that had sowed such terror and injured so many of their enemies at the start of the battle, they would never have bested the Erie.

With a tomahawk, Tahonsiwa finished off an enemy prisoner left to die among the nine bodies piled up on the ground. Three other Erie, less seriously wounded, were taken captive. The Iroquois took the ten scalps from their latest victims and gathered the spoils left behind by their fleeing enemies: five baskets of cornmeal, bows and arrows, beautifully sculpted clubs, stone pipes, tobacco, deerskins, and goat hair necklaces. Before leaving the danger behind, they lit a huge bonfire and threw Atotara's body onto it, an honour reserved for warriors who died in combat. Then, they took refuge deep in the woods, far from the battlefield, to tend to their wounds and keep the rest of the war party safe.

That night, for all his fatigue, Kondaron stayed awake for a long time to consult the spirits. He made repeated incantations and offerings of sacred herbs: he could sense their anger. When morning came, he did not feel as though he had managed to appease them, or learn more about their uncertain humour. But it would be foolhardy to continue the campaign now, he was sure of it. He held a meeting to share his concerns and hear what the other warriors thought.

“We have claimed three great victories,” he explained. “We have taken twenty-five scalps and three prisoners, along with a valuable haul. But I feel that the spirits are no longer with us. We have already lost Atotara and, if we continue to fight, I fear the spirits will abandon us completely. I think it is time to go back home, as soon as the wounded are up to the journey. We will return victorious, our heads held high. Are any of you against ending our offensive?”

“Ho!” shouted Tahira right away, to show his agreement with Kondaron's decision.

The others thought for a moment.

“I agree,” spoke Ganaha. “Several of us could have died by Atotara's side. The battle was fierce. Until now, the spirits have been favourable to us. But you are right: if you feel they are abandoning us, we must show them consideration and return to our families to celebrate our victories with them.”

“Ho!” added Orinha simply, happy that Kondaron and Ganaha suggested what he had secretly been hoping for since the bitter battle the day before.

Shononses also agreed.

“My wounds are very painful,” he said. “I may not be able to paddle, and I certainly cannot fight either, or even hunt. We are vulnerable, Kondaron. You are making the right decision. It is time for us to return home.”

Tahonsiwa, Thadodaho, and Deconissora glanced at one another. Deconissora was suffering from his wounds, still bleeding, despite the plaster of medicinal plants the warriors had applied to his chest. He felt very weak, and feared for his life. Waiting for his wounds to heal would slow the group down, but he was eager to leave the land of the Erie. His two companions knew it and supported him.

“Ho!” they said in unison.

“Kondaron is wise,” Tahonsiwa added. “He is right. We will leave as soon as we can.”

Otasseté kept his silence for a moment, before noting that the time was right to return home.

“The summer is drawing to an end,” he said. “If we do not return home as soon as the wounded have recovered, winter might well surprise us along the way, for the journey will be long. We must prepare to leave right away. Which route do you think we should take, Kondaron?”

The chief was pleased to see his warriors agree with his suggestion and that they were happy, too, with all they had accomplished.

“Last year,” he replied, “we returned over the mountains. The going is steep, but safe. No enemy lives in these lands, but there is beaver, fish, and game in abundance. Our canoes are hidden nearby and, once we have recovered and repaired them, we will be able to head south, then east through the mountains. The whole time, we will be moving further and further away from the Erie. But if we go back the way we came, we will have to cut across the land of the Erie, or take a long detour around it. That would be dangerous. I suggest we return through the mountains. Our prisoners will help us carry the canoes and our packs. Does everyone agree?”

“Ho! Ho!” the warriors responded as one.