The Orenda Joseph Boyden (45 page)

Now I begin to follow her thinking.

“This quill box,” she says, “is made to hold what’s important to you. You will know what it is when the time comes.”

I thank her for it, and tell her how beautiful, how perfect it is.

“You must begin preparing for what comes,” Gosling says. “It’s time for you and your betrothed to build your nest.”

I want to ask her what she’s talking about, sliding my hand down to my stomach. I look into Gosling’s face. She smiles.

IT WAS NICE OF YOU

Isaac’s been sitting with Aaron, keeping him calm and away from the brandy. The two seem to understand each other best. We’ve been forced to bind his hands and feet, as he’d turned into a wild animal last night, at one point taking a knife and slashing at his arms. I assume it’s drink that demonizes him so, and the men who make it have been rounded up and placed in chains. I warned them once, and despite the grumbling of the other donnés, I will not allow this poisonous disobedience.

Isaac and Gabriel have bandaged Aaron’s wounds, and we wait for him to explain what possessed him. All last night he moaned and howled and clearly it has something to do with his hurting Snow Falls. I told him she was fine and in the company of Carries an Axe and her father, but this only made him grow more agitated.

I walk outside along the periphery of the mission. We’ve been hard at work building residences for the expected arrival of the newcomers. Possibly a hundred men will soon arrive, many of them well-armed soldiers. This should give any Iroquois war party second thoughts. The Huron women have been tending to the fields, and the crops, while not plentiful, are in good shape. Sauvages from the north have been coming in to trade with us, so our storehouse holds plenty of game and a number of furs that these strange people are willing to barter for cheap knives and glass beads. This was Gabriel’s shrewd thinking, to put word out to the various tribes that we have
plenty of goods to trade. All in all, we are in fine shape now that the mornings arrive a little cooler each day, hinting of autumn. I will send hand-picked men out with the Huron to hunt for deer and other wild animals when that season comes. I tell myself we’ll be fine. We’ve gotten through on much less before. It’s the threat of the Iroquois I can’t put out of my mind.

I’d sent two donnés along with three sauvages to deliver my letter to the governor of New France, suggesting what Bird had so cleverly conceived. Even a small force of soldiers with their superior weapons can be sent to harass the Iroquois this autumn, perhaps setting fire to their crops and thus making them question the wisdom of a full-scale war come next summer. I say extra prayers each morning and evening for the safe return of my messengers. They’ll have to paddle and portage quickly and silently. The travel alone is brutal enough, never mind the constant fear of capture and torture.

When I return from my walk, I see that Isaac has untied Aaron.

“Is that wise?” I ask in French.

Isaac nods. “He’ll be fine.”

I turn to Aaron, who now sits up in the bed, looking confused and mildly angry. He absently rubs his bandaged arms. “How do you feel?” I ask him.

His answer is a grunt.

“Do you wish to speak about what happened last night?”

Again he grunts.

“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” I ask.

He smiles, but it isn’t a kind one. “Give me more of that stinking water,” he says.

“The men who gave you that have had their limbs bound and will soon face a torture,” I say. “The poison has been poured into the earth and if you don’t believe me, I can show you where it turned the grass brown. There’ll be no more of it.”

“I need it,” Aaron says. He stands, agitated. He’s a strong young man, twice as wide as poor Isaac. His once shorn hair has grown out
so that it’s all the same length now. It makes him look younger than he is.

Isaac extends a mauled hand to him, and suddenly I understand their bond. “I know what you feel,” Isaac says. “Many of us have felt this when we get too close to it. The pain it causes will go away, and then the desire for it will grow. But that, too, will leave your body.”

“Just give me a little bit and I’ll be fine,” Aaron says.

I shake my head. “There is no more.”

He steps toward me with what I think is hostility, but his eyes are pleading.

Isaac holds his hand out farther, and Aaron stops. “Let’s go for a walk,” Isaac says. “You promised to show me that tree whose bark helps a body’s pain. This might be a good time to find it.”

Aaron glares at me for another few seconds, then drops his eyes and follows Isaac out the door, his stride uncertain.

—

GABRIEL AND I
stroll the fields with our heads bent in discussion and our hands clasped behind our backs. The harvest draws closer. I wish the debacle of the secret distillery was behind us, but this rough period of unhappiness refuses to pass. As we take measure of the corn’s height and health, Gabriel questions the donnés’ character.

“It seems many of them came to this place,” I explain, “as a way to escape prison for different crimes.” There are those, though, both Gabriel and I understand, who are truly good men who have come to help spread God’s word. “Just as we must weed these fields so the crops grow well,” I say, “so must we continue to weed out the troublemakers, those ones who wish to distill spirits.”

Gabriel nods. “With only ten soldiers and four times as many donnés and laymen, it might prove difficult to keep them in line if they decide to rebel.”

“This is the way of the world, though, isn’t it?” I say. “We must find
something more positive to keep them focused. Besides, more soldiers have been promised any day now.” But as I speak this, I fear that we’ve been forsaken yet again.

“We’ve not yet punished the distillers,” Gabriel says. “They’ve been in chains for weeks. Something must be done.”

I’ve not been able to force myself to have them whipped. It’s clearly becoming obvious to the rest that my distaste for punishment is a weakness. Then it strikes me. “I’ve been meaning to lead a small delegation to Bird’s village,” I say. “They need to know we still exist, that we still speak for the Great Voice. Why don’t I take the prisoners with me?”

“Are you joking?” Gabriel asks. “You really wish to travel in this climate of hostility? You know that Iroquois raiders wait all around us for exactly that type of foolishness.”

“I’ll deal with several problems at once,” I say. Aaron’s as good in the forest as any Huron I know. I’ll ask him to guide us, and force the prisoners to accompany us as punishment. “It’s high time the donnés understand the dangers that fester in this land,” I say. “Fear of the evil around us will lead them back to the fold, don’t you think?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Brother,” he says, “I hope you don’t mind if I’m left here to keep watch over the flock while you travel.”

“Of course,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

—

MAYBE I STRIKE OUT
for Bird’s village as the first frost threatens because the realization sinks in that no help is coming from New France. If this is the case, I’ll need to convince Bird we’d all be better off if we joined together.

Aaron leads us on the day’s walk, and I’ve kept the travelling party small, just the four ringleaders of the distillery, Aaron, and myself. If we’re to reach the village before dark, we need to move quickly. For the first hours, their eyes are wide in terror of Iroquois waiting behind every tree to jump out and brain them.

When we stop for a rest, I whisper stories to them of the tortures I’ve witnessed and all the horrible ways one can die at the hands of the sauvages. They need to understand we are in grave danger and that their drunken disobedience can’t continue. What I’ve not told them is that I plan on offering their services to Bird for the winter. I think it’s best he keep them so they may learn something of this world they now live in. I also want to separate them from their friends and allies at the mission.

Two are very young, maybe eighteen or nineteen. The boy with red hair has been trying to grow a beard to make himself look older. The other, blond and sickly thin, is the one who plays the fiddle music. The distiller and his helper are as old as I am, both of them with missing teeth and their hair falling out from the lack of nutrition.

In the afternoon I see Aaron stop ahead of us. He looks down and then all around, turning his head slowly. When I join him, he’s standing over the remnants of a small fire.

“Iroquois?” I ask.

He nods. “We must be very careful now,” he says.

The four donnés join us. “What’s this,” the distiller whispers.

“An Iroquois fire. A recent one,” I say, letting the words sink in. He looks as if he’s about to faint. “We must be vigilant,” I say, “and stay as quiet as mice. They hear everything.”

We move slowly through the afternoon when all we want to do is run as fast as we can. Not until we reach the edge of Bird’s cornfields does my heart begin to calm.

—

BIRD PROVIDES US
an abandoned longhouse near the palisades. I’m shocked by how the village has suffered. So few of the houses are occupied. This evening, I gather all of us together and bless our temporary home, followed by my blessing each man. We bend our heads in prayer. Once we’ve finished, with a fire roaring in the hearth
to warm the cold air and to burn away the sadness of the many families who died here, I tell the donnés they should make the longhouse as comfortable as they can, for this is where they will shelter this winter. I expected a strong reaction, but when the young blond one begins to cry and the others complain bitterly, I’m caught off guard.

“This isn’t a death sentence,” I tell them. “There were many punishments I’d considered, but this one will actually teach valuable lessons.”

“You can’t leave us here with these sauvages,” the red-haired boy says as he tries to comfort his blond friend, who’s now collapsed on the ground.

“I beg of you, Father,” the distiller says. “Allow us to come back to the mission. We will take the lashes, as many as you think fair, if only you allow us to come home.”

“Please, Father,” the other says, opening his arms to the room. “You can’t expect us to live like this. In this place? Surely these sauvages will kill and eat us.”

I shake my head. “They’ll teach you important lessons about how precious life is,” I say. “And you’ll be strong and teach them the resilience of the Christian man.”

—

BIRD CALLS FOR ME
in the morning. He lights and puffs on his pipe, and when he offers it to me, I refuse. Fox sits nearby but won’t join us at the fire.

“How has the harvest progressed?” Bird asks.

“Good, I think,” I say. “But the fear there won’t be enough to get us through winter will always be near.”

He nods, contemplative. “Our harvest will only be enough for our mouths. There will be little trading this year, which is a shame. We need much after the sickness.”

I look around me at the nearly empty longhouse. “It hasn’t been easy for anyone, but especially for you,” I say. “And this is why I
come to visit. I’ve brought with me four of my people in the hopes you will keep them as servants for the winter. They’re hard workers. Let them collect your firewood and your water. They are in need of helping you.”

Bird looks at me inscrutably. “You bring me the gift of four of your people?” he asks. He laughs to himself. “You think that passing on four of your problems is a gift?”

“What do you mean, problems?” I ask. “They are not problems.” How does Bird intuit this? “They’re strong, for the most part, and they can be used by you in any way you like.”

“We need no help,” Bird says. “But I feel you do.”

“Bird,” I say, “listen once more to me. We are two small villages that together can become a large one. You yourself said the Iroquois will return in force next summer.”

“What of my request to ask your war chief to surprise them in this season?”

“I sent the messengers as you requested, but they haven’t returned yet, which makes me fear for them.”

“And what of the new arrivals? Did they come?”

I shake my head. “I fear the worst for them as well.”

“And so you come instead with your gifts for us,” Fox says, his voice surprising me. He stands, and despite his small stature, I fear no man more. “You bring us four dogs instead of something useful?”

“They can be useful,” I tell him. “They’re meant only as a sign of my good faith.”

“That’s kind of you,” Bird says, “but we respectfully ask you take them home when you leave.”

“We need no more sickness from you,” Fox tells me.

“I simply come to request our two villages join forces,” I say. “If we’re to survive the Iroquois, we must work as one.”

Bird tamps out his pipe, then stands and stretches. “It was nice of you to come all this way to visit,” he says. “And I thank you for your offer, but we can’t afford four more mouths to feed.”

“Or the sickness they carry with them,” Fox adds.

“I ask you to consider what I suggest,” I say. “We built extra lodging in my village in the hope of our new arrivals. There’s room for more. We can come together there as one.”

Bird shakes his head. “When the Haudenosaunee attack you next summer, if there are any survivors, let them know they might be welcome here.”

I wait for more, but he turns away so that I’m left standing alone, my right hand grasping my left uselessly.

—

AARON HAS GONE
missing now that it’s time for him to lead us back to the mission. I gather the four donnés, who crowd around me, grovelling.

“I’ve made my decision,” I tell them. “And this decision directly affects your futures.”

The men look at me with pleading eyes. “Tell us, Father,” the young blond says. “Please tell us we can go home.”

“I’ve decided to take you back with me,” I say, “if you promise to abstain from your evil practices.”

The men nod and hold out their clasped hands.

“If I’m to let you return to the mission, you must kneel now and repent.”

They race one another to find the ground with their knees. “We do, Father. We do,” they all cry out. I look down at them, as if still weighing their fate. Their eyes bulge with the desire to come back. Raising my right hand, I make the sign of the cross above them as we speak the Lord’s Prayer.