The Incredible Escape. The Adventures of Radisson 3 (6 page)

The shaman had stopped tending to the fire. To better communicate with the spirit of the eagle, he wore a headdress of eagle feathers long enough to reach his shoulders, a head and beak attached to his forehead. They were both sweating from the heat of the tent, even though they were bare chested. Smoke began to escape from the top of the teepee. It no longer stung Radisson's eyes. They sat cross-legged facing each other on either side of the fire. Ononta threw a few more handfuls of tobacco, sage, and sweetgrass onto it. Radisson was holding the three feathers the shaman had given him in one hand, the handle of his eagle-head knife in the other.

“How did this knife come into your possession?” Ononta asked him.

“It was in a house in a Dutch village surrounding Fort Orange. I was there trading with my brother Ganaha two years ago. A young Dutch woman had been using it to chop vegetables. It was lying on a table. As soon as I saw it, I had to have it. Once it was in my hand, I felt a great surge of energy run through me. I could no longer let go.”

Ononta nodded. All the signs were in agreement. His intuition had been right. His teaching could begin.

“Your knife is not the source of this energy,” he said. “You are contacting the spirit of the eagle through the knife. The eagle is your totemic animal. It is calling out to you. You must answer.”

“What can I do?”

“You have lived long enough among us to know that the spirits give life to everything. But you did not learn to listen to them as attentively as you must. You do not know how to make allies. The spirit of the eagle is calling you with all its might. This is an opportunity for you: it is calling out to you like this because you have its qualities, exceptional qualities that you have not yet learned to develop. The eagle is your brother. You must listen to it, follow it, honour it. It will help you grow. It will guide you.”

“What is it telling me? Where is it taking me?”

Ononta tried to calm the young man who was in such a hurry.

“The eagle flies so high,” the shaman continued, “that sometimes it disappears behind the clouds. It reaches the sun. At the same time, it feeds on animals on this earth. It belongs to both worlds. It lives in the sky and on the ground. It is the bridge between humankind and the spirits, between dreams and reality. It is like you: you are half-Iroquois, half-Frenchman. The eagle teaches us that all is linked, that we depend on each other, like the sun allows seeds planted in the soil to grow.”

Radisson could now see what the eagle could bring him. He had one hundred questions. But Ononta wanted him to stay quiet. He still had much to say about the animal his people venerated. Radisson understood that he must listen to him.

“When the eagle soars so high that we lose sight of it, it flies off in all directions. It flies over obstacles that blind us. If you look with your eyes, the eagle will show you what you cannot see today. You will learn how to see in every direction, to make out what others do not see. From such a great height, it swoops down low to capture the hare or salmon that did not see it. It is the ultimate hunter. It strikes like lightning. It is as powerful as thunder. Admire it. Honour it. If you draw inspiration from its superior powers, the eagle will teach you the power of the warrior and the perceptiveness of the sage. The feathers I gave you will help you reach out to it. Its spirit is giving you the energy you can feel. If you are receptive to it, if you watch closely, you will be able to acquire its qualities. These feathers are light and fragile and yet they are powerful. They enable the eagle to fly faster and higher than any other animal. They enable it to strike at the best moment, from the best angle. They will help you acquire these qualities.”

Carried away by the admiration he felt for the master of the skies, Ononta caught his breath for a moment. He threw some more tobacco onto the fire. The night was dark and quiet. Radisson was hanging on the shaman's every word, fascinated by his teaching.

“The eagle is a brother to the sun. It soars amidst the spirits. But just as the sun can heat or burn, its power can do good or ill. Be careful with the powerful spirit within you. Be in no doubt: the eagle is your totemic spirit. It is calling out to you. It has adopted you. If you take the time to understand its true nature, if you are inspired by its greatness, you will soar just as high as the eagle. You will be as magnanimous as the greatest of chiefs. You will find the means to realize your dreams. You will discover how to adapt to the sky every bit as much as to the earth. The spirit of the eagle will teach you to transform yourself. You will be able to soar to see in all directions or swoop down upon your prey as needed. The eagle will protect you like no other because it is a powerful spirit. No bird dares threaten it in the sky. On the ground, no animal dares touch it. Awaken its power within you and you will grow more than you could ever imagine.”

Radisson was shocked. This shaman was painting such a fabulous picture of his destiny! He hardly dared believe it. And yet, the feathers and his knife were pulsating right there in his hand. The spirit of the eagle was filling his body with a powerful energy. He felt free of all constraints—cleansed, purified, renewed. And for the very first time, he understood the meaning and significance of the energy coursing through him.

“I have something else to teach you,” Ononta added. “The ties that bind each of us to our totemic animals are a secret because they are unique. There are a number of eagles, and all the qualities of all the eagles will not be within your reach. Some hunt animals on the ground, others fish, while others steal their food. You must decide which of all these qualities will be of greatest use to you. You must also cast off the weights that are dragging you down. You must make yourself as light as a bird. With each passing day, with every dive, the eagle perseveres. The energy that sustains it is renewed. You must never allow yourself to become discouraged.”

Ononta fell silent. Radisson's head was spinning. He had sensed all this in the courage shown by his father Garagonké, in the wisdom of his war chief Kondiaronk, in the way his brother Ganaha hunted. But never had he come into contact with the foundation of their inner lives. He had not known what lay behind their strength. And now Ononta had given him this unexpected gift.

Looking back over all the shaman had revealed to him, Radisson realized he had far to go as an apprentice. But he had just taken a decisive step, as though walking out of a dark forest into the light.

***

Radisson led one of the canoes speeding toward the French fort. Ononta and Mahatari's son Denongea paddled the heavy canoe up onto the shore. Five Iroquois from the Bear clan followed closely behind. They brought with them five dead deer, three bears, and six beavers.

“What a haul!” cried the Frenchmen who had come to greet them. “God is great! The hunt was a success!”

Father Ragueneau rushed up to them as they were loading the meat onto the makeshift cart that rattled its way back and forth between the river and the fort.

“What happened to you?” he asked. “I've been terribly worried about you!”

“Out hunting, Father. Out hunting, as you can see. It took longer than expected, but I got what I was after. I can even go back any time I want. I got permission from the Bear clan to hunt on the best grounds along with them and two or three of our own men.”

“Very well, but you will have to wait for a day or two. A messenger just brought me word that the Iroquois have agreed to our requests! Now I must go to the village to decide where the chapel should go and oversee its construction. The corn you asked for will soon be ready, too. But this time you're staying with me. I've had enough fretting for one day.”

A
ccompanied by three chiefs from the Bear clan, Awenissera showed Father Ragueneau the two sites they were proposing for the chapel to be built on. The chiefs' favourite was outside the palisade by the entrance gate. There, it would be seen by all in the vicinity. They suggested putting up a small enclosure on two or three sides, whichever the Jesuit preferred. Ragueneau was not satisfied. They led him on to the only other space still available inside the village of Onondaga, tucked away in a corner. The Jesuit wasn't any more taken with the idea.

“Why not in front of the council house?” he asked.

“You chapel will be in the way there and it will be too small,” Awenissera answered. “There is no room.”

“Let's go take a look all the same,” Ragueneau urged.

The chiefs went with him reluctantly. At best, they would be able to build a small bark chapel there. But it would obstruct the entrance to the council house. Even Father Ragueneau, who dreamt of occupying such a central position, could see the problem. Radisson was relieved to see his master's hesitation because here the chapel would be vying for importance with what was a sacred place for their Confederacy. This was no way to improve relations with the Iroquois. Ragueneau did not insist. And so the group returned to the second site.

“Here it shall be,” the Jesuit declared after some reflection. “I am anxious that our chapel be in the village among you. We will place a high cross on top so that everyone will know where to find it.”

The chiefs agreed. Construction would begin the following day.

“Until the chapel is ready, you will stay with my family,” Awenissera told them.

The next day, while Ragueneau traced the chapel's perimeter and fifteen Iroquois gathered the wood and bark they would need to build it, Radisson inquired about the corn that was to be sent to the French. Awenissera's wife and other women from the Bear clan had started shelling the dried ears of corn and were collecting the grains in large wicker baskets. Fifteen or so were already full. The rest would be ready in a day or two.

In the meantime, Radisson went for a walk through the village. He tried to put Ononta's advice into practice. He looked at the activity surrounding him with the eyes of an eagle, as though he were soaring through the air.

Getting the harvest ready and preparing for winter was keeping a lot of people busy. Sheaves of corn hung from the walls of every home. The harvest had been a good one. Inside, women shelled beans, too. Others were out bringing in squash from the fields, while men repaired bark roofs or smoked fish. Many headed to the woods to hunt or gather firewood.

Radisson noticed the rather cool reception he was getting. Few Iroquois smiled at him or bothered to greet him. He felt like an outsider. Only members of the Wolf clan were truly thoughtful and welcoming toward him and the other Frenchmen. Even Mahatari and Ononta were only kind to him because he was part Iroquois.

Suddenly he saw Andoura walk between two longhouses. Radisson darted around the building the Iroquois had disappeared behind and found himself face to face with him. This time, Andoura could not slip away.

“Hello!” said Radisson, flashing him his best smile. “I'm happy to see you again.”

The chief was embarrassed and pretended not to recognize him. He tried to step around Radisson, but the Frenchman stood in his path and drew his knife, planting its handle right under Andoura's nose. The Iroquois gave a start, and his hand was instinctively drawn to his own knife.

“Incredible, isn't it?”

The Iroquois did not reply. His eyes were wide with surprise. Radisson felt the need to refresh his memory.

“I thought the very same thing when you took out your knife in Trois-Rivières last winter. I was there. Don't you remember? I'll never forget it.”

Andoura had neither the presence nor the assurance he had shown in Trois-Rivières. After a long moment's hesitation, looking Radisson square in the eye as though to read his intentions, he took out his knife and laid it in his hands to compare the two. The likeness was uncanny. The handle was identical: there was the same slender eagle head, the same hooked beak, the same beady eyes, the same broad feathers that went all the way down to the blade, opening out ever so slightly. They had surely been made by the same person. How else could they be so similar? Only the blades were slightly different. And yet Andoura's knife had been made especially for him in extraordinary circumstances. He would have sworn that it was one of a kind.

“Where did you get this knife?” the chief demanded.

“At Fort Orange, in a Dutchman's house. And you?”

“I can't tell you here.”

They were still examining their knives. Then their eyes met again with a fiery, knowing look.

“I am sorry my brothers killed the Hurons,” said Andoura. “I was against it.”

Surprised by this unexpected admission, Radisson didn't know what to say.

“I must speak with you,” the Iroquois added. “It's important. Join me tonight in the council house when the moon has set. And be careful. We can't let anybody see us.”

“I'll be there.”

The Iroquois was gone in a flash.

Father Ragueneau had been sleeping for a long time. Exhausted but happy to have helped put up the long poles that made up the chapel's frame, he was constantly thanking Awenissera for welcoming him into his house while the chapel was being built. He was tired but excited. By now, everyone else in the longhouse was asleep. Only Radisson was still awake, afraid of missing his rendezvous. The night seemed to drag on forever.

So as not to fall asleep, Radisson sat on his bed, trying to determine the hour and the position of the moon. He thought back to his dream in Trois-Rivières once the Iroquois ambassadors had gone. His father Garagonké had told him: “Take this knife, my son, and be brave, for the lives of the Frenchmen are in your hands.” He had not spent long trying to work out what the dream might mean, but he should have because today the words still troubled him. He clutched his knife in both hands and closed his eyes. He opened them again to ease the transition from dreams to reality. He closed them, then opened them again. But it was all still as much of a mystery as ever.

The moon had probably set by now. They must not be surprised by the first light. Radisson stood up very carefully, anxious not to wake a soul, and tiptoed to the end of the house. The walk had never seemed so long. Nobody could see him. At last, he lifted the bark flap and found himself outside. Clouds masked part of the sky. The moon, hidden by the neighbouring house, would soon drop off the horizon. It was time. Radisson found his way around the village as best he could. He recognized the small council house and risked lifting the bark flap. He hoped that Andoura had kept his word. It was pitch-black inside, apart from a pile of embers in the sacred fire, which glowed red without emitting any real light. He groped his way along.

“Andoura?” he whispered. “Are you there?”

“Radisson? Is that you?”

“Yes, it's me. Where are you?”

The Frenchman stopped as he felt the Iroquois' breath against his face. Andoura touched him with his fingertips. Recognizing his bushy beard, he began to speak in a low voice.

“We don't have much time. First, you should know that two of the three chiefs who came with me to Trois-Rivières are dead. I myself was gravely ill. The fourth, who was against the alliance with the French, has remained in good health.”

Radisson was distressed to hear this: a stroke of bad luck had surely left a very bad impression.

“Many took it to be a bad omen and have become suspicious of the French. Some are no longer in favour of peace. Until now, chiefs like Awenissera and I had the upper hand, but things are changing. The chapel has left many furious. Awenissera is clever. He spoke well and managed to convince a majority of chiefs that it was time to let the Blackrobes live in our village. But those who were against it held a secret council. Awenissera is to be frozen out. I was invited to speak of what happened in Trois-Rivières. The chiefs opposed to the alliance want to know if the French cast an evil spell on us.”

“The French never cast evil spells,” Radisson replied. “They want peace. For the good of your people, and for the good of mine.”

“I will speak again in favour of the alliance with the French,” Andoura reassured him. “But I have learned that a Mohawk chief will also speak. Almost all the Mohawks are against you. He will surely urge us to pick up our weapons and join forces with them. Because of them the Hurons travelling with you were killed. They convinced our war chiefs that the Hurons are our enemies and that we should be done with the men who betrayed our ancestors to adopt the Great Spirit of the white men. There were long discussions before the expedition set out. That's why it arrived so late in Montréal. That's why I did not go. I was against the plan.”

It was so dark and Andoura's words were so troubling that Radisson wondered if he was dreaming. It surprised him to learn the peace was so fragile, in spite of Pierre Godefroy's warnings and the many times the Iroquois had changed their minds. Two camps of Iroquois were well and truly facing off against each other. One respected the commitments they had made to the French; the other was plotting to have them overturned.

“Is Awenissera really with us?”

“Yes. He is your most faithful ally. But many young war chiefs are muttering behind his back that he is too old to grasp what is happening to us. People are turning their backs on our traditions. Our country is in uproar. Illnesses we do not know are decimating our people. The young people say we must fight back against our invaders. But Awenissera and I believe we must ally ourselves with the French in spite of the risks, and profit from your strength. We have our supporters, but our numbers are dwindling.”

“You must stay with us, Andoura. You are in the right. We want to trade with the Iroquois. We want them to know our Great Spirit and share his power with you. We want to help you, Andoura.”

“I always speak in favour of peace. That is my path. Because it is tied to my knife and because you too are for peace, I will one day tell you how I learned to take that path. The same destiny binds us.”

“It's true that I am for peace and that our knives seem to be nudging us in this direction, even though it is hard to understand.”

They both silently considered the impossible coincidence that bound them and pondered what they could do to avoid war again.

Radisson knew Father Ragueneau well enough to be sure the Jesuits had no ill intentions. He also knew the powers of the French were not as great as the Iroquois supposed. But how could they be convinced?

“Listen,” said Radisson. “Our knives confirm that we are allies. We must work together to save the peace. After the secret council, I will come to your house to trade and you can tell me what was said. You must let me know what's happening. That's the best way to safeguard the peace. The French and the Iroquois can get along. We just need to put up a bit of a struggle to get there.”

“Very well. But we must act in secret. If it gets back to the partisans of war that I am talking to the French, they will keep me away from the meetings, as they did with Awenissera.”

“You can count on me. They won't suspect a thing. Now it's time to go our separate ways.”

“May the spirit of the eagle be with you.”

***

Radisson saw Andoura again a few days later in the house of the Turtle clan. When Andoura introduced him to his daughter Lavionkié, who was Radisson's age, the Frenchman was at a loss for words. He had never seen such a beautiful Iroquois woman. She had big hazel eyes, soft and bright like a doe's. She wore her long black hair in braids, accentuating the glow of her face. And her slender leather dress enhanced her graceful body. She rummaged around in the package Radisson had just placed on the ground, curious to see all that he had brought with him. She was overcome with delight when she discovered a long piece of cloth, knife blades, and iron scrapers. Radisson could barely tear his gaze away from the girl long enough to speak with her father.

“I brought along some of the goods we have here, but there is much more back at the French fort.”

Andoura grinned broadly. He could see that his daughter had caught Radisson's eye. So much the better. The young Frenchman shared part of his destiny. He was a likeable character and his attraction to his daughter would provide a cover for them exchanging information.

“Be seated,” Andoura told him. “Let's talk. I have a few beaver pelts in reserve.”

Ogienda, Andoura's wife, moved back a fair distance, but Lavionkié stayed by Radisson's side. She stared at him intently, not the least embarrassed. The Frenchman couldn't help but admire her and return her smiles. The negotiation with Andoura did not take long: the cloth, a scraper, and two knives were exchanged in return for two beaver pelts. Radisson threw in a handful of sewing needles.

“Your mother needs you, Lavionkié,” said her father so that he and Radisson could be alone.

The two men walked to one end of the longhouse. After making sure that no one could hear them, a serious-looking Andoura summed up in a low voice the decisions that had been made the previous night.

“Another secret council is to be held on the night of the next new moon. Cayuga and Seneca chiefs will join us. They are all opposed to the alliance with the French. The two Mohawk chiefs who were there yesterday are to return with a Huron who will tell us how the Frenchmen ruined their country. I will take part in the council and shall again speak up for the French. The chiefs thought it best that someone in favour of the alliance be heard to better put things in perspective. But those in favour of war are gaining ground.”

Radisson listened, his head low. Instinctively, he turned to see Lavionkié waving over at him. She had kept her eyes trained on him and had been waiting for him to look up. Radisson was deeply troubled. He gave her a half-smile. Even though he was happy that the dazzling young woman liked him, the news he had just learned was very worrying indeed. Once he was back outside, he didn't know what to feel. The situation was too serious not to warn Father Ragueneau right away. He hoped the Jesuit would react calmly—and keep the secret to himself. At any rate, together they would have a better idea of what to do next. Radisson met him at the site where the chapel was being built.