People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) (19 page)
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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear
BOOK: People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past)
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Behind them, in the plaza, the tall pole representing the World Tree with its red and white spirals seemed to shine in the sunlight.
“Ah,” Sweet Smoke added, following her gaze. “Screaming Falcon. He still has four days left.”
“Why does purification take so long?”
“Because war is pollution.”
Morning Dew was used to her mother’s sharp tone.
“You still don’t think the attack on Alligator Town was right?”
Sweet Smoke gave a wistful shrug. “That was the decision of the Council. Your brother is high minko now. He and the rest of the men were persuaded by Screaming Falcon’s plan.” A pause. “Who knows? Perhaps they are right. Perhaps Power has abandoned the Sky Hand People.”
Morning Dew turned her attention to the captives. A band of little boys had charged into view; laughing and calling, each carried a stick. As if in a game, they ran past the captives, slashing at them with their flails. Their attack elicited a response as the captives writhed under
the blows. The adults who had been watching joined in the laughter.
the blows. The adults who had been watching joined in the laughter.
“Do you see, Mother? That’s what’s become of the Chikosi rulers. One day, Smoke Shield will hang there, and I will take just as much pleasure whipping his defeated body.”
Her mother kept her own counsel, but returned her attention to her daughter. “How is the hominy coming?”
“The kernels are swelling and cracking. I added some water.”
“Good.” She stepped closer. “And what about you? Are you getting ready for the big day?”
Morning Dew laughed. “Of course. This morning I studied the route I will run. I think I’ll take a path from the Sun Stairs around the House of the Dead, then head straight for the palisade. If I run between the big storehouses, he won’t know if I’m turning right or left when I reach the palisade. He can’t cut the corner and catch me. He’ll have no choice but to follow.”
“Screaming Falcon is fast on his feet. We’ll give you enough of a head start so that he won’t be close by the time you reach the storehouses.” Sweet Smoke smiled wryly. “As much as you might want to be caught, you’ve got to make it look good. His friends will be following. They’ll tell him which way you’ve turned.”
“And my friends will be ready,” she countered. “I’m going to tell them to look to the right once I’m hidden by the storehouses. It might be enough of a hint that he cuts to the right of the storehouses.”
“And you’ll turn to the left.”
Morning Dew laughed. “Pretty smart, don’t you think?”
The bridal chase had a long history, going back to the beginning times, just after the Chahta had emerged from their ancestral earth: a great mountain far to the west. For generations, they had traveled the world, each night making camp and erecting the World Tree pole that they carried with them. The next morning, they
would awaken to find the pole leaning in the direction they were to travel that day. Finally, one day they had camped in the Horned Serpent Valley, and when the Ancestors awakened that next morning, the pole had been straight, indicating that here, at last, they had reached their home.
would awaken to find the pole leaning in the direction they were to travel that day. Finally, one day they had camped in the Horned Serpent Valley, and when the Ancestors awakened that next morning, the pole had been straight, indicating that here, at last, they had reached their home.
The bridal chase had started, it was said, when a young woman wished to know if the handsome man she wanted to marry was lazy, or if he would be ambitious, hardworking, and a dedicated hunter. To find out, she had waited until the moment before they were married, and broken away, leading him on a merry chase. Since that day, it had become custom; if a young woman could outrun her man, the marriage was off. It was also said that the longer and harder the chase, the greater their love and commitment would be to each other after a successful capture had been made. Morning Dew planned to make Screaming Falcon’s chase the thing of legends.
“People have already begun to arrive. Two camps were set up last night outside of town. Rumor has it that some are coming from as far away as the Natchez lands to the west.” She sighed. “News of Screaming Falcon’s victory over Alligator Town has traveled like the wind. As much as people wish to see this union, they are just as interested in Screaming Falcon, and what his plans are for the future.”
Morning Dew’s heart warmed. “I’ve heard some talk, too.”
“Children carry their parents’ gossip where prudent adults wouldn’t think to speak. What have you heard?”
“That many hope Screaming Falcon will finally break the Sky Hand People’s Power. The hope here, and among the other clans upriver, is that what the Sky Hand now possess will become ours. That our chiefs will sit inside the Chikosi palaces, and we shall control all the lands between the Natchez and the Ockmulgee.”
“That is a most ambitious future.”
“You don’t think we can do it?” Morning Dew stirred
the hominy. Why did Mother always see the least instead of the most?
the hominy. Why did Mother always see the least instead of the most?
“Daughter, do you also understand the terrible risks involved? You have never seen the strength of the Sky Hand People. You don’t know what they—”
“Their high minko
killed
his brother! The same thing almost happened again. But for a poorly aimed blow, Smoke Shield would be a long-rotted corpse by now. How can Power support a people whose rulers keep murdering their kin? The Chief Clan of the Sky Hand is tainted by blood and chaos.”
killed
his brother! The same thing almost happened again. But for a poorly aimed blow, Smoke Shield would be a long-rotted corpse by now. How can Power support a people whose rulers keep murdering their kin? The Chief Clan of the Sky Hand is tainted by blood and chaos.”
Sweet Smoke chuckled to herself. “Perhaps you are right. By Breath Giver’s shining light, I hope it is so.”
Morning Dew emphasized her point with the stir stick. “People are coming from all over for my marriage. They are going to see, Mother. This is more than just a joining between Screaming Falcon and me. We will use this as an opportunity for others to decide that we can lead them.”
“You’ve discussed this with your brother?”
“Biloxi understands completely. He has sent for hunters to bring in extra game. He has already talked to the warriors, and they will be at their best. He intends to hold ballgames after the wedding.”
“I heard. I didn’t think it wise. And he didn’t tell me that the games were to showcase our strength. What if we lose? Hmm? Think of that?”
“Mother, you have to believe in us. In our Power.” She grinned up. “Besides, you know that no one can whip us in stickball. You’re the best woman player among our people. And you taught me everything you know.”
Sweet Smoke’s expression hardened. “I am still matron, head of our clan. I wish he would have discussed this with me.”
Morning Dew shot a glance back toward the Men’s House, seeing Biloxi Mankiller, resplendent in a feathered headdress, his white apron immaculate, as he strode toward them at the head of a procession of warriors.
“Well, here he comes. And dressed as if for some ceremonial occasion. What do you think this means?”
“Well, here he comes. And dressed as if for some ceremonial occasion. What do you think this means?”
Sweet Smoke turned, standing straight and tall as the procession passed the Sun Stairs leading up to the palace. Most of the warriors laughed, making mocking gestures of obeisance to the suffering captives. Behind them, Morning Dew caught sight of two naked women, heads bowed as they shuffled along.
Biloxi Mankiller was indeed resplendent. Upon closer examination the headdress was a gaudy thing, filled with bristling white heron feathers intermixed with blue, green, and red that shimmered in the light. Splays of turkey feathers had been tied to each shoulder, and strings of polished copper beads gleamed around his neck. A large white whelk shell pendant depicting Spider bringing the sacred fire down from Breath Giver hung on his chest.
Beside Biloxi came Screaming Falcon’s old uncle, the tishu minko, Bow Mankiller. He was a stately man, tall, with gray hair bound up in a warrior’s bun. He carried only a chunkey stone, the one he used in ritual games, in his right hand. His white apron sported a falcon—its wings spread, beak open—woven into the fabric. Feather plumes from an osprey were tied like sunbursts to his shoulders.
“Greetings, Matron,” Bow Mankiller called formally as the party came to a stop.
The warriors spread out to either side, the disheveled captives standing with wrists bound before them. The women never looked up. Bruises could be seen, mottled black, green, and yellow on their dirty skin.
“A good day to you, Tishu Minko.” Sweet Smoke had adopted a serene look, though Morning Dew knew that she, too, was burning with curiosity.
Biloxi stepped over, taking his place slightly to the right and ahead of his mother. He had his chin up, as if expectant. Morning Dew could read the barely suppressed excitement behind his eyes.
Drawing himself up, Bow Mankiller cradled the round disk of his chunkey stone. “From the beginning times, it has been our custom to provide the bride’s clan with gifts as a demonstration of our goodwill. In view of the upcoming marriage which will once again join our clan with yours, I have come to offer a small token of our appreciation. We offer these slaves, taken in our recent attack, as but the first of our gifts. We hope that they serve you well.”
The two warriors flanking the captives reached over and pushed the women forward. “Kneel,” one ordered.
Both women dropped to their knees before Biloxi Mankiller. Neither raised her head.
“They will serve you well,” Bow Mankiller said evenly. “If you have any trouble with them, and decline to discipline them for whatever reason, I personally will be happy to remind them of their status.”
“I think we can handle them,” Biloxi replied.
“And if they should run”—Bow Mankiller grinned meaningfully—“we will take it as a personal affront.” Bending down, he said loudly to the women, “My kinsmen would run them down like dogs in the forest.”
“Your gift is kindly received,” Biloxi answered. “Perhaps you might tell my mother who these women are?”
Bow pointed a finger at the older woman on the left. “This one is of the Sky Hand Raccoon Clan. She was once the wife of the minko at Alligator Town.” He glanced back at the hanging captives in their squares. “It is believed that she no longer has use for that husband.
“This one”—Bow Mankiller indicated the younger—“is her daughter. Both are from the lineage of which the man called Seven Dead Mankiller is head.”
“The tishu minko of Split Sky City, I believe.” Biloxi almost chortled.
“That is correct. These women are cousins.” Bow Mankiller bowed slightly, enjoying the theater.
Biloxi, as was his right as high minko, spoke for his clan. “We thank you, good friend. Your gift comes at the
perfect time. Our hunters have brought in many deer in preparation for the marriage feast.” He glanced skeptically at the captives. “They don’t look like they have much practice fleshing hides. I have heard that Seven Dead’s kin are accustomed to much softer labor.”
perfect time. Our hunters have brought in many deer in preparation for the marriage feast.” He glanced skeptically at the captives. “They don’t look like they have much practice fleshing hides. I have heard that Seven Dead’s kin are accustomed to much softer labor.”
Laughter broke out among the warriors.
Morning Dew full well knew what that implied. Since returning from the raid, half the men on the war party had been between the captives’ legs.
“We thank you for your gift,” Sweet Smoke said politely, but Morning Dew could see the worry behind her eyes. “They shall be a great asset to this household.”
“We are humbled by your thanks.” Bow Mankiller nodded again. “Oh, and Matron, a certain young man sends his fondest regards. From the looks of things, after his final purification, and immediate marriage, he will be unable to address you with his respect and appreciation.”
Bow Mankiller referred to the strict rules of avoidance that the Chahta practiced between mother-in-law and son-in-law. It would be a terrible breach of manners, protocol, and custom if they so much as spoke to each other after the marriage. The origins of the behavior went back to the Creation, when Eagle Man’s mother-in-law, growing infatuated with him after he married her daughter, seduced him to her bed. The offspring from that union had been a wicked young man who did much evil before Eagle Man was finally able to kill him.
Morning Dew flushed with pride. The gift of two slaves—let alone such high-ranking ones—was a most auspicious wedding offering. The news of it would be on every tongue by evening. She had to use all of her control to keep from bouncing on her toes.
“A most pleasant day, Matron,” Bow Mankiller said, and nodded. “And to you, High Minko.” With that, he signaled his warriors, turned on his heel, and headed back the way he had come.
“Slaves!” Morning Dew cried as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Well,” Sweet Smoke said with resignation, “there are hides to flesh.” To her son, she added, “Make sure you get enough work out of them to justify the food they eat.”
“Get to work, slaves,” Biloxi ordered.
For the first time, the older woman looked up.
The woman’s expression startled Morning Dew. Her face was slack, and emptiness lay behind her eyes, as if her center had been cored out, and her souls gone hollow.
A shiver ran down Morning Dew’s spine.
No matter what, I shall never be such an abject thing. This I swear!
No matter what, I shall never be such an abject thing. This I swear!
T
he sweat lodge consisted of a circle of saplings set into the ground, bent over, and tied to their opposites to create a low dome. Other saplings had been woven between the bows, then thatched and the whole of it sealed with clay. Snow had covered it with a white mantle when they arrived to kindle a fire in the low pit outside.
he sweat lodge consisted of a circle of saplings set into the ground, bent over, and tied to their opposites to create a low dome. Other saplings had been woven between the bows, then thatched and the whole of it sealed with clay. Snow had covered it with a white mantle when they arrived to kindle a fire in the low pit outside.
Old White sat naked in the pitch darkness, his bony butt on a doubled blanket. To his right, Two Petals clasped her knees to her breasts. He could sense the girl’s fear, a tangible presence in the heat that poured off the stones. They had been cooked to a red glow in a roaring fire outside and carefully carried into the lodge perched on smoking sticks.
Silver Loon sat to the left. He could hear her shuffling as she prepared the last of her things: a pot of water, a branch of sage, tobacco, and the cup of tea she had brewed earlier. Before entering the lodge, they had disrobed in the cold air while flakes of white snow melted on their skin. They had offered prayers to the four directions, to Father Sky, and finally to Mother Earth. Silver Loon had blessed the water, sage, and tea. Then, one by one, they had placed the stones on the hard earth at the center of the lodge and seated themselves, shivering and puffing white breath. The last one to enter, Old White had reached over and draped the covering across the low doorway to seal them in blackness.
“Water is life,” Silver Loon said softly as she reached into the water pot and sprinkled it on the glowing rocks.
Steam hissed, exploding from the stones and rising. The first faint touches began to caress Old White’s aged hide.
“Fire is life.” Silver Loon sprinkled the stones again.
“In it we are cleansed,” Old White added. “Let our souls wash clean.”
“Purify our bodies.”
Steam hissed angrily as Silver Loon added more water.
Old White could feel prickles of heat eating at his skin. He drew a deep breath of the hot wet air. How long had it been since his last ritual bath? Too many moons. A man needed this to cleanse his souls, purge his body, and reorder his universe.
While the idea of a sweat had appealed to him, the purpose behind it had left him uneasy. He remembered the certainty in Silver Loon’s eyes as she had said, “She is fighting the Power. Until she gives herself to it, she will be tortured, unpredictable, and dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” he had asked incredulously. “She’s just a girl.”
“Didn’t you tell me you took her out of a battle? Didn’t you say she witched an A’khota chief?”
“I think he was sick from something else.”
“All these years, and you still delude yourself.”
“I’m not—”
“She called you from halfway across the world, and you still doubt her Power?”
“She kept appearing in my Dreams.”
“Do not let her fill your nightmares.”
He had paused, meeting her knowing gaze.
Silver Loon finally asked, “What is this all about?”
“I’m not sure. I was in Oraibi. A mesa-top city far to the southwest. It happened in a kiva. During a Dance, a
Katsina
appeared to me.”
Katsina
appeared to me.”
“A what?”
“An explanation would make no sense to you. All that
matters is that the
Katsina
told me to go home. That the way would be long. I started four days later. I’ve crossed half the world since.”
matters is that the
Katsina
told me to go home. That the way would be long. I started four days later. I’ve crossed half the world since.”
“Called by this girl.”
“That came later, while I was with the Caddo.”
She had nodded. “It all goes back to the past, doesn’t it?”
“What happened back then …” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Why Power would take such steps to set things right. There’s no need to involve Two Petals—no need for such extremes.”
“And just what did you think would restore the balance?”
“It’s simple, really. All I needed to do was die.”
She had studied him thoughtfully. “Whatever it was that you did was but the beginning. This is about more than just your actions. It has grown, spiraling, like a raging inferno spun from a carelessly tossed ember.” Her eyes went vacant. “You are at the center of a struggle that was begun long ago. Darkness and light. Chaos and order. Red and white. It always goes back to the passions between the brothers.”
At her words, a cold chill ran through his souls. “And I suppose murder is at the heart of it?”
She had nodded, eyes like dark moons. “Oh, yes. You see, in the beginning, Wolf Dreamer killed his brother.”
“I’
m scared,” Two Petals said softly, her chin quivering. Her bare skin prickled and burned from the relentless steam. She could feel it, like little needles burrowing into her hide. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead
to burn salty in her right eye. She rubbed at her face, now slick and wet. Each breath was like a hot knife in her throat. Breathing through her nose was like drawing in stilettos of fire.
m scared,” Two Petals said softly, her chin quivering. Her bare skin prickled and burned from the relentless steam. She could feel it, like little needles burrowing into her hide. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead
to burn salty in her right eye. She rubbed at her face, now slick and wet. Each breath was like a hot knife in her throat. Breathing through her nose was like drawing in stilettos of fire.
“Don’t be afraid,” Silver Loon soothed. “Relax. Breathe. Feel the tension drain from your limbs.”
She heard Old White run his hands over his arms and legs, slicking the beading sweat over his skin. As more steam hissed up from the stones, Two Petals tried to curl into a tight ball.
“It’s hot,” Two Petals protested.
“You will grow used to it,” Silver Loon told her. “If your souls slip from your body, we will catch them.”
“You can do this,” Old White reassured. “I brought you to Silver Loon for a reason. She can help you.”
“She can make this go away?”
Silver Loon’s calming voice said, “I can help you to find the way. You must trust me.”
Anything, just get this over with.
“I—I’m ready.”
“I—I’m ready.”
She heard Silver Loon shift, then say, “Two Petals, I am handing you a cup of tea. Find my hand. That’s it. Now, as you take the cup, be careful not to spill anything. You must drink it all. After that, you will feel better. Do not fight; just let your souls float.”
Two Petals placed the thin rim to her lips. The liquid was cool, flavored with mint to cover a bitter taste. She gulped it frantically, feeling the chill rush through her hot gut.
“There, I’m done.”
“Good,” Silver Loon told her. “Now, you only need endure for a while and Sister Datura will come and Dance with your souls.”
“Sister Datura?”
“She will show you the way.”
Two Petals scooted imperceptibly back so her spine touched the uncomfortable wicker of the lodge wall. She was panting, taking shallow gasps of the hot air. The voices—stilled for the moment—began whispering
just beyond her ear. She felt the pull, could feel herself slipping. No, not now.
just beyond her ear. She felt the pull, could feel herself slipping. No, not now.
She clenched her teeth and blinked at the stinging sweat that trickled into her eyes. Gods, couldn’t this just be over? It would be so easy. She just needed to turn, rip the cover away, and she’d fling herself out into the soothing chill of the day.
She swallowed hard, already seeing the disapproving expression that would mar Old White’s face, but she was going to do it. She couldn’t take another instant of this burning heat.
When she reached out, her arm seemed rubbery.
“Not yet,”
a voice told her.
a voice told her.
She jerked her head around, searching the darkness for the voice that had spoken so close to her ear. Sweat tickled as it ran down her chest. She gasped frantically. The world seemed to spin.
“Not long now. Come, take my hands. Come Dance with me.”
“Who, who are you?”
“I am your sister.”
“I don’t have a—”
“Shhh! Of course you do. We are all sisters. You, me, Old Heron, Nightshade, and so many, many others. Lichen came to you earlier. She, too, is my sister.”
From a great distance, Two Petals heard Silver Loon warn Old White, “Don’t. She’s falling into the Dance.”
Dance? A flash of light—golden, purple, and orange—flickered in the darkness.
Two Petals drew rapid breaths; her skin seemed to crawl loosely over her muscles and bones. A distant flute could be heard, its notes mellow and rising on the darkness. She could feel the blanket beneath her rising and shifting, as if the earth had gone fluid.
“What’s happening?”
“We are going to Dance the future. I want you to see the shape of things to come. Only then can you look
back and see the path to your husband. Power calls, and you shall Dance with it.”
back and see the path to your husband. Power calls, and you shall Dance with it.”
“I am afraid!”
“Reach out. Take my hands. Let me lift you.”
Two Petals extended her hands toward a magical glow that shimmered in all the colors of the rainbow. She felt herself rise, her souls being pulled inexorably into the light … .
T
he fire crackled and spit futile sparks toward the high ceiling of Silver Loon’s house. Old White stared at the bags, boxes, jars, and bones. He sat on a pole bed along one wall and sponged Two Petals’ forehead with a damp cloth. The girl remained as still as the dead, the only signs of life the occasional gasped breath and the sometimes frantic movements of her eyes beneath closed lids. Despite the warm house, her flesh might have been cold clay.
he fire crackled and spit futile sparks toward the high ceiling of Silver Loon’s house. Old White stared at the bags, boxes, jars, and bones. He sat on a pole bed along one wall and sponged Two Petals’ forehead with a damp cloth. The girl remained as still as the dead, the only signs of life the occasional gasped breath and the sometimes frantic movements of her eyes beneath closed lids. Despite the warm house, her flesh might have been cold clay.
“You were sure of the dose?” he asked again.
“One can never be sure,” Silver Loon replied from her backrest by the fire. She occupied herself sewing small white shell beads onto a fine blue dress she had taken from one of the boxes. “You have been around long enough to know the dangers of Dancing with Power. Sometimes, if the soul is found weak or cowardly, the beasts of the other worlds snap it up.”
“That was the story the great Lichen told, wasn’t it?”
“And, according to legend, after Birdman ate her, she came back alive, more Powerful than ever. She was the ruler behind Petaga’s throne.” She glanced in the direction of the great mound. “In those days, Cahokia reached its greatest Power. People came here from all over the world. And from here, they went back, filled with the Dream of Cahokia.”
“And now it is but the stuff of legends.”
“Polluted,” she said. “By that barbaric beast, Black Tooth, who lives in his pitiful temple.” She shook her head. “After Tharon’s taint had been burned away, Petaga built a five-story palace atop the great mound. Can you imagine?”
Old White nodded. “I’ve seen such things.”
“Where?”
“Among the Azteca, and at the ruins of Teotihuacan. And in the southwest, I’ve walked the crumbling walls of Talon Town. Heard the late-night wailing of murdered matrons. Like Sun Town, with its little red owls, this, too, will fade. Cities, like men, are born, grow, and then age and die.”
“You sound saddened by that.”
He shrugged. “It is the way of things. That’s all. In spite of all my travels, I have learned that only the sun, sky, water, and earth are eternal. What is made must crack and collapse.”
“What else have you learned, Runner? You have seen more than any man alive, talked to peoples beyond number. Of all those places and peoples, what great truth have you discovered?”
He grunted. “I found no great truth … only an endless number of small ones. And people”—he raised a finger—“are just people. Great or small, mighty or meek, no matter their delusions of greatness and influence, at root they are the same beast as a woodcutter, farmer, or weaver.”
“And for that you had to travel the world?”
“I did.” He smiled to himself as he carefully rearranged Two Petals’ long hair on the bedding. To carry the girl back, Silver Loon had asked some of the local village men for help. Despite their combined efforts, she and Old White wouldn’t have been able to negotiate the steep stairway to the house atop its mound.
He fixed his gaze on Silver Loon. “But you would not believe the things I’ve seen. War, hunger, blinding blowing snow, sunset on the gulf, a bearded white man. The
midnight lights that twinkle, beam, and glow in the far north … So many things that can be described, but never understood. I have seen cactuses the height of trees. A canyon that splits the world. Mountains that spew fire and smoke above the clouds. Can you believe herds of buffalo that blacken the landscape for as far as the eye can see? Or fish out on the gulf that jump from the water and fly off on clear shining wings?”
midnight lights that twinkle, beam, and glow in the far north … So many things that can be described, but never understood. I have seen cactuses the height of trees. A canyon that splits the world. Mountains that spew fire and smoke above the clouds. Can you believe herds of buffalo that blacken the landscape for as far as the eye can see? Or fish out on the gulf that jump from the water and fly off on clear shining wings?”
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