Lakota Dawn (20 page)

Every movement he made seemed to increase Macha’s yearnings. Each time he moved within her, it was ecstasy. It was beautiful and special and natural to have their bodies joined as one, to have such powerful feelings racing through both of them, to discover such joy and unity. To her, it was a total sharing of themselves.

Their hearts pounded in joyful unison as they mentally and physically pledged themselves to each other as mates for life. Upward they climbed a sensual slope, urging their spirits skyward.

“Do I travel too fast, my love?” a near-breathless Chase asked.

Macha whispered for him to continue as she reached her precipice and toppled over it shortly before an enraptured Chase did the same.

Afterward they cuddled and shared light kisses as their bodies cooled and their pounding hearts slowed.

“I love you, Dawn, and you always please me greatly.”

Macha nestled into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder. She sensed he was happy, calm, and connected to
her, and she thrilled to each of those perceptions. “As I love you, my husband, for you please me in all ways, more than words can speak.”

Chase stroked her hair and warm flesh, both damp from their lovemaking and the summer heat. He savored the feel of her bare body against his, the way her arm rested over his chest and a knee over his thighs, the way she cuddled up to him, and her occasional dreamy sigh. He had no doubt she loved and desired him, only him, and forever. No man could be luckier or more blessed than he was on this glorious day. Now, all that loomed before him as awesome challenges were honoring his sacrificial vow to the Great Spirit and risky pledge to his family and people.

At sunrise, Chase stood at the edge of camp and stared at the sturdy and sacred cottonwood pole which had been embedded in the grassy heart of Mother Earth on the day before his arrival. Although it had been selected and cut down by women chosen by the shaman for that honorary task and prepared for two other braves for their sacrificial ritual today, it was as if the Great Spirit had timed his return so he could be a part of it as he had vowed many weeks ago. It was usually done at the end of summer and the seasonal buffalo hunt, but Nahemana and those braves had said it must be carried out on the day of the full moon as instructed in his visions and their dreams.

Chase recalled from boyhood observations how hazardous and painful—and often lethal—the ritual was. He could not help but feel apprehensive of that peril and torment; yet, he also was exhilarated and proud that his time to endure it had come.

He knew the ceremonial dancers had been chosen and had practiced their movements to prevent any errors and each had been assigned a special pattern and colors with which to paint their bodies for their roles. The preparatory Buffalo Dance had been done during his welcome feast two nights ago. He had not eaten or drunk anything this morning, as he must fast today. He knew his wife was worried about his participation in the
Sun Dance ritual, for she also was aware of the dangers involved in it. Yet, Macha realized it was a crucial path he must walk, and without her beside him. Even so, before he left their tepee, she had clung to him, kissed him many times, and begged him with her eyes not to take such enormous risks. He had comforted her as best he could with words and embraces, but knew he had failed to assuage her fears. As he stood there, he prayed for the strength to obtain his new objective, and for the Great Spirit to guard his wife if he did not survive it.

Chase was joined by his brothers, who would share the purification rite and walk along with him and blow whistles for encouragement during the Sun Dance ritual. Soon, the other two partakers arrived. Together, the five men went to the sweat lodge nearby to take the second step along their spiritual journey, as the fast was considered to be the first. The shaman and two warriors waited there to assist with needed tasks. The five ducked and entered a hut shaped like a turtle’s shell; it was constructed of bowed willow branches and covered with thick buffalo hides.

The five men took their places on sitting mats which were arranged around a shallow pit. Heated rocks were brought inside and dumped in the depression; water was poured over them to create steam, mist believed to be the breath of Wakantanka, mist to cleanse their bodies of any evil and weakness. The hut was dark after the flap was sealed, and light entered only when it was pulled aside on occasion to add more hot rocks and water.

As a summer sun beat down on the snug shelter, it did not take long before sweltering heat and humidity filled it. As the men chanted, prayed, and sweated, they rubbed their wet skin with bunches of sage and sweet grasses. They did not speak to each other. It soon became difficult to breathe from a lack of fresh air, the water they had been denied, and from the energy-draining loss of body fluids.

The purification rite continued until midday when the shaman said it was time to take the third step along their sacred journey.

After Chase left the stuffy hut, the late August weather
seemed cool when compared to that of the interior of the sweat lodge. At least there was a strong and constant wind outside to provide fresh air. As the others had, he dried his body with a pelt which had been smoked over a fire of special herbs and grasses and cottonwood branches. Clad only in a breechclout and moccasins, he awaited his turn to be painted. He had decided to use signs of the sky powers: lightning, stars, moon, sun, and clouds. The two helpers who were skilled at that task first painted all exposed skin from head to feet blue like a clear sky. By the time they finished their work, yellow lightning bolts zigzagged down each side of his chest from collarbone to waist, down each arm from shoulder to wrist, and down each leg from groin to ankle. A full moon was painted on his left cheek and a sun on his right, both in yellow. Across his forehead and on his chin were white stars. On his broad back were clusters of white clouds. To show honor to their brother, Wind Dancer and War Eagle were body-painted in the same way.

As the men left the ceremonial lodge at midafternoon, the signal was given for the Red Shield band members to gather beyond the fringe of their camp at the chosen site. The three participants approached the shaman, halted before him, and each revealed the kind of ritual he would endure. The three had given careful consideration to their choices before making them. One could choose to dance and chant around the pole for as long as he could stand and move and speak; allow small pieces of flesh to be removed and placed at the pole’s base; have one’s chest pierced and secured to the pole while he danced around it until he could pull free; or to have his chest pierced, his muscles secured by thongs, and be lifted off his feet to swing and sway until the fleshy bindings were rent and he fell free to the ground. Some braves picked the lowest or second task and later worked themselves up to one of the most dangerous and difficult. The ceremony lasted until all men either pulled free, yielded defeat, or died trying. If one lost consciousness, when he roused, he either had to continue or halt. None wanted death, but most preferred it over a show of weakness and dishonor.

Standing before the three men, Nahemana lifted a white sunbleached
skull of a buffalo bull which was painted with the symbols of the sky forces: rain, hail, thunder, lightning, and wind. Its openings were stuffed with buffalo and sweet grasses and with special herbs. As he held up the sacred object, he said a prayer to summon the gazes of the Creator and Good Spirits to witness the impending scene. He lit his Prayer Pipe and blew puffs of smoke into each man’s face. As he did so, each inhaled deeply to capture it with his nose and used his hands to waft some over his head and chest, for it was believed to represent the breath of the Great Spirit.

Chase heard the soft beating of a large kettle drum by eight men, old and wise and respected members of the Red Shield Band and the Big Belly Society. He saw people sitting on the grass or on rush mats or standing, their number forming a dense human enclosure around the awesome scene. He heard and felt the incessant Plains wind which swept over his body and played in his hair. He felt the heat of the sun beaming down on him. He tasted the unpleasant flavor of a dry mouth, for he’d been denied water since last night. His eyes squinted against the bright sunlight and dry wind. His skin felt strange with the paints covering it. He pushed aside his discomfort as the ceremony began, a fourth step to be taken.

Ceremonial dancers came forth to perform their part of the exciting event. While keeping perfect time to the drumming, they moved around the pole doing intricate footsteps and graceful whirls and chanting to the Spirits. They were clad in their ritual attire, including feathered bussels and headdresses and heavily beaded garments and moccasins. After they finished, they resumed their places on sitting mats in a group.

Broken Lance, Chase’s seventeen-year-old cousin, chose to have small pieces of flesh cut from his arms and placed as an offering at the base of the pole. After that was done, the young brave, who had endured the pain in silence, went to sit with his parents Runs Fast and Pretty Meadow, sister of Rising Bear, and with his brother Two Feathers, who had subjected himself to the highest level of the Sun Dance last summer.

Bent Bow, son of their war chief Blue Owl, chose chest piercing. He looked reluctant and afraid to perform the deed,
and was no doubt coerced by his father and other male relatives into doing so. During his preparation, Bent Bow writhed and grunted in agony. Afterward, he stayed seated with his head down.

Before Chase was asked to announce his choice, he stole a glance at the war chief and saw Blue Owl shake his head and scowl at his son’s display of weakness. Chase told Nahemana, “As my father and brothers did in seasons past, I do this for myself and my people to seek the Great Spirit’s blessing, guidance, and protection during the dark suns ahead. I do this to thank the Great Spirit for all He has given to me. Let it begin, Grandfather. I choose the piercing on foot.”

Before he lay on a buffalo hide, Chase looked at Macha, read the fear and love in her eyes, and smiled encouragement. He looked at his father, and they exchanged nods of affection and resignation. He took his place, made his body rigid, and clenched his jaw to keep silent and still during what was sure to be a painful preparation.

Nahemana used a ceremonial knife to make two small cuts on Chase’s left breast above his nipple. Blood instantly came forth and rolled downward toward his side. The shaman forced a sharp talon of an eagle’s claw through the sensitive underflesh, pulled to separate and lift the severed section, and worked a lengthy thong beneath it. He did the same on Chase’s right breast, and noticed the man did not flinch or grimace. He told Chase to stand, and after he obeyed, Nahemana secured those thongs to rawhide ropes which were attached to the cottonwood pole. He placed a peyote button in a small pouch suspended from Chase’s beaded belt, a gift from Winona on the past sun for saving Tokapa’s life. He previously had told the young man when he should chew and devour the “medicine stone” to evoke a vision. He told Rising Bear’s second son to begin his ordeal when he was ready, then told Bent Bow the same thing.

Chase locked his gaze to sacred markings on the cottonwood pole to summon his strength and willpower to begin the agonizing task. There was no retreat now; it was onward to victory or death. He took a deep breath, backstepped until the ropes were taut, and leaned away from the pole to test the result of
that action, one which must be repeated countless times to break free of those bonds. As astonishment thundered across his mind, pain shot through his chest and radiated from his arms and legs to his fingers and toes. He had known the attempt would hurt badly, but now he realized how terrible it was going to be. He heard the steady beat of the kettle drum and the chanting and praying of many people. As he began to dance sideways, halting often to yank backward in search of freedom, he blew on an eaglebone whistle from his father; and his brothers blew on theirs as they kept in step with his movements.

Chase’s torment increased with the passing of each hour, and it was a constant struggle to endure and continue the self-inflicted ordeal. Despite intense concentration on his own challenge, he could not help but notice that Bent Bow would slacken his ropes and slow his pace to rest and to seek relief for a time, as Chase frequently encountered and passed the other man during his own circling movements. Chase also noted that Bent Bow already looked exhausted and frightened, but there was little damage to the man’s chest because he was not yanking hard enough for release. Chase, himself was giving each jerk as much effort as he could muster because he wanted to end this suffering as quickly as possible. Even so, his flesh was being stubborn, and the thongs and ropes were strong. Those severed sections had loosened and separated from his body, but both sides refused to tear apart and release their grips.

After sunset, torches jabbed into the earth and a full moon illuminated the area. Only women with infants and young children and the most elderly people went to their tepees; all others remained to witness the culmination of this awesome event, to see who lived and succeeded, who had to halt, and who might have perished while trying to achieve victory.

It was not long before a bleeding, frightened, and painriddled Bent Bow conceded defeat and was cut free by Nahemana. The weakened brave was taken home by a displeased and embarrassed father, against whom he was leaning; he promised
he would make another attempt during the next summer’s season.

Chase pretended he did not notice the commotion, but he was aware not only of the other participant’s difficult decision and departure, but of Two Feathers’ intense observation of him. He was certain his hostile cousin was praying he would yield to defeat or would die from this ordeal. He must not disappoint the Great Spirit, himself, his wife, his family, and his people.

Before the bright moon was overhead, ignoring the agony and calling upon all of his strength, Chase pulled free of one imprisoning thong, sighing with relief when he did so. He refused to wipe away the sweat his arduous efforts, the summer heat, and tension had caused to form; some ran into his eyes and stung them, though that sensation was nothing compared to the salty drops which flowed into his protesting wounds and tortured them. Chase felt as if the second bond persisted in its stubborn grip more strongly now that it was alone, as if it was determined to hold fast and bring on his defeat. He had thought the work would become easier at that point; that wasn’t true and it worried him, as it became ever more apparent that his body was weakening by the hour.