Black Eagle (33 page)

What was intriguing to Marisa was that she had not been required to lift a finger to help. It was all done for her, as though she were a very special guest of honor.

Blue Necklace had kept up a steady stream of chatter, as well, bestowing Marisa with warm smiles and a gentle way. Interestingly, Black Eagle's mother seemed younger than what Marisa might have thought she would be. She was probably not over forty-five years in age, and she seemed to be a young forty-five as well.

A few basic hand signals had been used to communicate between the two women as Blue Necklace had sat, braiding Marisa's hair. As soon as that task had been completed, Blue Necklace had taken Marisa's hand and led her to the exquisite Indian costume she had earlier laid out. The dress was simple, made of trade cloth, but what fashioned the dress to be so handsome was the intricate embroidering that had been accomplished over most of the dress's surface. Its basic color was that of gold, with threads of blue and green and red sewn directly onto the gown, the embroidery stitching producing figures of water lilies.

The sleeves were puffed at the shoulder and fell just below the elbow, and the bodice fit tightly, it, too, being embroidered with green and blue thread. Similarly made leggings fell down to moccasins, which matched the dress. Most amazing to Marisa, however, was that the gown fit.

“
Weh-yeh
!” said Blue Necklace.

Marisa shook her head.

“Beau-ti-ful . . . you . . .”

“
Nyah-weh
, thank you,” said Marisa, and she had smiled at this woman who treated her so kindly. Then to herself and under her breath, Marisa had commented, “I wonder if all this kindness is in preparation for me running the gauntlet? As one might feed a turkey well before slaughter, am I to be dressed so that I might produce a spectacular image as I am forced to run through a line of villagers?”

“You . . . come . . . ,” said Blue Necklace, and taking hold of Marisa's hand, she had led Marisa from the stream, back into the palisaded village, back along the main pathway that led through the village to the longhouse where Black Eagle had first taken her.

“Come.” Again Blue Necklace had urged Marisa along with her, and lifting up the bark door of the longhouse, she had brought Marisa into the inner sanctum of the longhouse.

It had been dark on the inside, since the only light appeared to be from either the doorway or the smoke holes at the top of the structure. There were no windows.

The corridor had led from one end of the structure to the other, and it was long. There were hearths set in regular intervals down that corridor, spaced perhaps twenty feet apart. At that time, there had been a few of the older women seated around those fires, tending to them, and many of these women had been holding a child in their laps.

It had been yet another busy place, and a little noisier than the outside, since small children ran to and fro. She remembered that drums had been beating there, as well, and that men had been singing. Incredibly, the buzz of conversation had made the space seem homey.

Glancing around, Marisa had estimated that the longhouse was probably one hundred feet long and maybe thirty feet wide. It was a tall structure, perhaps twenty feet high. As Blue Necklace had led Marisa down the main passageway, Marisa had noted that on each side of the corridor were separate compartments, each partitioned off from the next with sheets of bark. There had been corncobs strung up to dry, gourds that had been set in neat rows on the floor and cooking utensils and other articles had been stored neatly next to the hearth.

Smoke holes in the ceiling let the smoke from the many fires escape, yet not all of the smoke left, she'd noted, for the interior was still smoky and warm. Plus, there had been food cooking, and Marisa had been pressed to contain her excitement. Were they going to eat?

About five hearths into the longhouse, Blue Necklace had signaled to Marisa to take a seat, which Marisa had done at once. Blue Necklace had then heaped upon a plate as many corncobs, corn cakes, ribs and succotash as Marisa had desired. It had been a feast. It had smelled delicious, and it had tasted even better.

Blue Necklace had watched her, smiling, and although she had allowed Marisa as much time as she needed to satisfy her appetite, as soon as Marisa had finished her meal, Blue Necklace had escorted her out of the longhouse, bringing her here, to the central point of the village.

People had gradually gathered here. Many speeches were being made, even as she stood before them, waiting, and many men had been talking for quite some time. Once again, Marisa felt as if she were the center of attention, especially so since she stood next to the speakers. What was being said? Did any of it have to do with her? But most importantly, did adoption consist of running the gauntlet?

Time passed, and when no actions were taken against her, Marisa began to study her audience. There were hundreds of people here, each one dark haired and dark skinned. A predominance of the men wore the Mohawk hairstyle proudly, with feathers attached at the back. However, there were other men who had cultivated their hair to long lengths, although these men tended to be older. The women appeared to favor three different hairstyles, either that of letting the hair hang loose and long, or that of two braids at the side of their face or one braid down the back.

But what set this meeting apart from any town meeting she had ever attended, thought Marisa, was that every person here seemed inordinately interested in what was taking place. No one interrupted the speaker, no one spoke when another was talking. Nor did their attention seem to vary.

Then she saw him. Black Eagle was winding his way through the crowd, toward her. At last here was a familiar face, someone dear to her. She felt herself come alive, and her heart warmed to him.

He was wearing what appeared to be white buckskin, she noted, heavily fringed and embroidered with flowing patterns of beadwork. Over his jacket, he wore a beaded baldric and in his hand was his ever-present musket. He still wore pouches of ammunition strung over his shoulder with straps, and in one of his sashes was his tomahawk. His leggings were skin tight and fell down to cover his moccasins. His step was light, and reflected in his eyes was a keen intelligence. One she recognized so very well. He was looking directly at her, and his gaze was soft, gentle.

As he drew level with her, he smiled, and murmured, “Have you understood what is happening here?”

“No. I fear I have not,” she whispered back.

“Then let me tell you what is occurring. You are being adopted by a family of the Turtle Clan.”

“The Turtle Clan?”

“
Nyoh
, yes. Look outward from here. Do you see the four people lined up there to your right?”

She nodded.

“This is your new family. I am here to introduce you to them, one by one, but I think you know one of them already.”

As an ancient-looking woman stepped forward, there was a little girl caught onto her arm. It was Pretty Ribbon, the little girl who had befriended her almost as soon as she had stepped foot inside the village. Marisa was at once delighted.

“This is your clan mother,” spoke Black Eagle. “She is the matron of the Turtle Clan.”

The two women acknowledged each other with a nod, and the clan mother presented Marisa with a gift of corn. Marisa graciously accepted it.

“You already know Pretty Ribbon, and behind Pretty Ribbon is her mother, Rainbow, and Pretty Ribbon's elder sister, Laughing Maid. You are replacing their brother, who was lost recently in Sir Johnson's battle with the French.”

“I'm to replace a brother?”

“
Nyoh
, yes. Taking another's place does not require you to be of the same sex.”

“How fascinating.” Marisa said, as she smiled and nodded to her new sisters. Pretty Ribbon, however, could not long keep her enthusiasm to herself, and Marisa caught her hand, as the child placed it within her own.

Laughing Maid, the elder sister, stepped forward, and in her arms was a wooden tray full of food. With some ceremony, and words that Marisa could not understand, she placed the tray into Marisa's free hand. Again, Marisa accepted the gift, but as soon as she had an opportunity, she murmured to Black Eagle beneath her breath, “What are all these gifts about?”

“Your family and I are ensuring your safety. First you required a new family. And now that you have that family, we are to marry.”

“We are to marry? ”

“Yes, you and I.”

“On the same day that I am adopted by people I little know? Is this not happening a little fast?”

“It is considered necessary,” he explained. “No one here is foolish enough to consider that we have not indulged in lovemaking. It is evident that we are in love, and we have been much alone. Therefore, your family thinks it best that a marriage takes place between us with all possible speed. Already your family acts in your behalf.”

Marisa had barely enough time to digest this information, when Blue Necklace stepped forward to place a tray full of food into Black Eagle's hands.

Black Eagle inclined his head toward his mother, then said to Marisa, “And now we exchange these food trays, and when we do, we are married. Are you ready?”

Marisa nodded, and releasing Pretty Ribbon's hand so that she could hold the trays without dropping them, Marisa exchanged her tray with Black Eagle's. Black Eagle let out a deep breath, smiled at her, and said, “And now you are my wife.”

“Wife,” she repeated, almost to herself.
I am this man's wife.

Looking up at him, and staring into his dark, dark eyes, it occurred to her that her life had taken a sharp turn. However, from all indications it seemed that it might be a turn for the better. Only time would tell.

At least, she thought, she had a family who appeared to want her and a husband who loved her. As Black Eagle had once said, she had a new life.

Marisa was touched by their kindness, and she might not have been quite human were there not a tear or two at the back of her eyes. But she didn't cry. Instead, she smiled. And it was not lost on her that this was the first time she had done so since coming into the village.

All she said to her new husband, however, was, “I love you.”

Nonetheless, it might have been an eloquent speech, for his reaction was a heartwarming smile, and taking her on his arm, he led her away, toward their new home in the longhouse of the Turtle Clan.

After a month of being in the Mohawk village, life had settled into a routine. To the mornings fell the activities of collecting water, and food preparation. There was corn to grind into flour, berries to be picked and dried, stews and soups to be made. Black Eagle often added to her chores, as well, by bringing home game; it had to be cleaned, cut up and eaten or dried for storage.

Afternoons passed leisurely in much the same way. Always, there were chores, but there were so many people to help and to talk to, that the time passed quickly.

And then there were the evenings. Marisa looked forward to the nights. Usually the evening hours started with a wash and a swim in the river. Then it was back to the longhouse to eat and to sit around the fire with family. But mostly, many evenings meant cuddling with Black Eagle.

At present both Marisa and her sister, Laughing Maid, were returning from their twilight swim, where they had both played a rousing game of ball. There was a slight chill in the air, a warning that winter was coming, but Marisa was laughing and drying her hair, as was Laughing Maid.

“I hear that your husband has returned with another deer,” said Laughing Maid in the Iroquois tongue.

“Another one? It has only been a matter of days since I cleaned the last one,” Marisa replied in the same tongue. It was interesting to note, she thought, that when one had good reason, one could quickly learn to converse in another language.

“I think your husband is very daring. He goes out alone many times, which is unusual. I think he is trying to show you he is a good provider.”

“
Nyoh
, I believe you are right, although he has no need to try to impress me. He will always be a hero to me.”

“A hero. Yes. Do you think you could tell the story again tonight? The story of how he rescued you?”

“I could try, although he tells it better than I do. There are some parts that I don't remember well.”

“That is to be understood. You almost drowned. But if you tell it while we work, I could help you to skin and clean the deer as I listen.”

“That would be very well,” said Marisa, “very well, indeed, but can you spare the time?”