The Orenda Joseph Boyden (50 page)

I look at Gabriel, whose eyes are turned away but whose countenance tells me he agrees. Isaac looks at me, his mouth an angry line.

“This is our mission,” I say, slamming my fist into my open palm, my voice rising with emotion. “We all swore we were willing to sacri-fice our lives for this, did we not?” I ask. “What could be more blessed than to offer our lives for those less fortunate? If this is the case, my brothers, it is indeed our time. The sauvages have come to us asking for help. The help we can give them is far greater than they can ever know.”

Gabriel stands when I’ve finished. He reaches his hand out to Isaac.
Isaac, sweet Isaac, hesitates but then takes it as best he can with his mangled grip. We stand together, our hands interlocked.

“We will focus harder, and work together as one to take them into the fold, yes?” I ask.

Gabriel nods. “Yes, beloved Father,” he says.

Isaac looks at both of us, his face lightening from the burden. His eyes go wide. “Yes,” he says. “I am willing to die for them.”

—

THE MISSION THRIVES
as March comes in cold and blustery. It’s almost what I imagined all these years I’ve dreamed of our two races coming together. The donnés and the sauvages certainly avoid one another more than I like, but I watch interactions take place between the two as they carefully approach one another to try to communicate or trade. I’ve put word out that the donnés are obliged to attend daily Mass, and they’ve returned, for the most part, to the fold. Gabriel and Isaac and I now spend our days amongst the longhouses of the Huron and the wigwams of the fur peoples, speaking of the Great Voice and urging them to come to the Great Voice’s house so they may understand better.

While it isn’t a perfect society yet by any means, I see it truly becoming something. Bird, though, has spoken of how this is only a temporary visit, and that when spring comes soon, they’ll go back to their own village. This is indeed a cloud on the horizon of my plans. But I haven’t given up hope yet that many might wish to stay in the comfort of the mission.

Aaron is one of the few sauvages who’s stayed close to the fold since the arrival of Bird and the rest. He attends daily Mass and avoids much interaction with his own people. This morning, after Mass, Gabriel and I stand on the steps of the chapel and discuss this when we see Snow Falls, clearly heavy with child, wander by.

“I understand why Aaron stays away from them,” I whisper to Gabriel and then tell him Aaron might possibly be the father.

Gabriel is shocked. “Have they truly no shame?” he asks.

“Just watch,” I say as I see Carries an Axe walk up and take her arm. Her pregnancy is so obvious now. “I’m not sure who the father is, and I’m not sure she does, either.”

Gabriel shakes his head. “Can we allow this kind of behaviour within the walls of the mission? Shouldn’t someone speak to her? Or better yet, speak to her father?”

Young Snow Falls, you are a disappointment. You’ve been my bane since we both first arrived here so many years ago. As soon as I think I begin to understand you, have even won you over to Christ, you surprise and shame me by biting my hand. And now, as you proudly flaunt your immorality, you’ve shown me you are not at all what I’d hoped you’d become. But I haven’t given up all hope for you.

“Maybe the question we should ask ourselves,” I say, “is this. Is she Mary Magdalene, the young whore who’ll come to see the light? Or is she just a young whore who doesn’t even know who’s fathered her child? Personally, Gabriel, I don’t want to believe the latter.”

As I watch you walking away from me with Carries an Axe on your arm, I’ve made up my mind, Snow Falls. I’ll allow Gabriel to speak to your father about how you flaunt this latest power you must think you wield over young men. Gabriel will make it clear to your father, and to Carries an Axe, that your behaviour is not to be condoned.

“Yes, dear Gabriel,” I say. “Maybe it’s best you speak to Bird about all of this. We can’t allow their immoral behaviour to go unchallenged. But be careful with your words. He can have quite a horrible temper.”

IT’S TIME

A sense of contentment has actually settled here in this strange village of crows, my love. We’ve built enough longhouses for all, and while they might not be as good as ours back home, each of us has a roof over our head and a hearth to keep warm by. We had not brought much in the way of food, yet the crows were generous, and this has impressed us. They know we won’t stand owing them, and all will eventually be made even. Who better than you to know a Wendat never forgets a kindness? The hunting here has been good, and we’ve added much to the meat and hide supplies. We’ll make it through this difficult winter.

I miss my friend Fox dearly and wonder how he and the rest of the village manage. We left them with most of the food on the assumption the crows would have enough. Fox and I will see each other soon, when the planting moon comes. That isn’t so far away, suddenly. The moon of the last snows has arrived. In another moon’s cycle, we will travel back and prepare for summer and hope that the Haudenosaunee stay home as well.

That is also the month that Snow Falls is to have her baby. She’s been having some pain lately, and only finally admitted she slipped and hurt herself weeks ago when we walked here. She’s been asked to rest, and her new mother, Sleeps Long, who gave birth just after we arrived here, watches over her.

I have something to tell you now. It isn’t as if you don’t already
know. But this is to be the year of new babies. I’ll be a father again. Gosling is the mother, and I hope you look down and see our happiness. I’ve not told anyone yet. Not even Fox. That time will come soon, as Gosling begins to show.

—

LIFE IS SO EASY
here I grow restless. I consider the idea of making the day’s journey to see how Fox and the others back home manage. The snow’s wet as it begins to melt and makes travel difficult and miserable. Still, I feel the pull of needing to move my body that aches from its memories of adventure. I’m not willing to leave Gosling or my daughter for long, though.

Gosling has picked up on this. She isn’t happy at all in this crow village, but she understands that the group’s needs outweigh her own. Unaccustomed to living in such large families, she maintains her old style of living alone in a wigwam. More nights than not, I’m with her.

“You’ll soon burst if you don’t find something to keep you occupied,” she says tonight after I’ve returned a third time from collecting more firewood. “Why don’t you gather some young ones and take them out hunting and snaring? You know the crows guard their food cache as carefully as squirrels. They’ll remember every nut they’ve offered us and then use it against us when the next time comes that’s in their favour.”

“I wouldn’t feel right,” I say, “leaving you alone in your condition.” The words come out before I can stop them.

“And what is this condition I suffer from?” Gosling asks. She’s been short-tempered with me lately. I can’t blame her.

“It’s not what I meant to speak.” I stop now in order to choose my words more carefully. “I worry for you and my daughter both.” Again I think. “I don’t want to leave for any length of time. I’ll be honest. Something keeps waking me in the middle of the night.”

“I’m sure it’s just my groaning belly,” Gosling says. We laugh. She looks at me now, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. “I’ll be honest, too,
and tell you I don’t want you to stray far, either, despite knowing you want to.”

I wait for her to tell me more.

“I lie awake as well, and not just because of this.” She touches her belly. “Perhaps it’s only because we’re forced to live so close to them, in this awful place. But most nights, I feel something’s very wrong.”

“Then we have to pay even more attention, don’t we?” I lean to her for a kiss.

—

THE CROW GABRIEL
asks me if my daughter is married.

“How does that concern you?” I ask.

“It’s obvious to all she will give birth very soon,” the crow says, “and the Great Voice demands she wed the father.”

“Sometimes our differences aren’t so many,” I say. “Our children are well cared for. You know that.”

The two of us sit alone in the place where they speak to their voice. It’s drafty, with the fire barely burning in the hearth. I can hear snow water dripping from the roof into puddles on the ground. He’d asked me here to speak of important matters, and so I’m left confused. I’d expected a meeting to discuss the terms of my people’s stay with the crows now that it’s almost time to leave. I’d expected a conversation regarding what is owed.

“I don’t want to be the one to stir the kettle, but maybe I must in order for us to see what lies below the surface,” this crow says. “I’ve been told that Snow Falls, how shall I say it,” he says, placing his fingers on his chin, “that your daughter isn’t sure who the father of her baby is.”

I stand from my bench then, kicking it back so it clatters onto the ground. “What did you say?”

The crow also stands, now alarmed. “I mean no harm, Bird,” he says, holding out his arms.

My fists are clenched. “What did you say about my daughter?”

“Simply that there’s a rumour Aaron might be the father. Or maybe it’s Carries an Axe.”

I walk toward him.

He stumbles backward. “I mean no harm, but don’t you think it’s important to rectify the situation?”

I lunge for him, and he trips over a bench. I pick him up by his stinking robe and lift him to my face. “Where did you hear this lie?” I ask, so close I can smell his foul breath.

“I imagine everyone knows,” he stutters. “I thought you did, too. I mean no harm.” He’s shaking in my hands. Or maybe it’s because I’m trembling with anger. I tense, then pitch him away so that he flies back and crashes into more benches. He scrambles to his feet and flees from the room, and I consider going after him. Instead, I turn around and stalk outside.

I make it clear to everyone I see on my slow walk around the crow village that I look for He Finds Villages. This explains his odd behav-iour that day so long ago when I walked up to him and he ran away. Does Carries an Axe know? Why didn’t my daughter tell me there were two boys? I will find out the truth.

I go to Gosling. I find her standing in front of her wigwam and wave her inside. As soon as we sit, I ask if she knows anything about this. She looks at me as if she wants to apologize for something.

“It’s true, then?”

“Bird,” she says, “listen to me. Snow Falls came to me in a time of great need. It was after your return from this place last autumn. Your daughter was concerned that He Finds Villages had pushed himself on her while she slept.”

“She’s a deep sleeper, but not that deep,” I say, my face burning.

“Remember how ill she was the morning you walked back from here?”

I do remember. I remember it all in a rush, my concern, my even asking if she was pregnant.

“He Finds Villages and Snow Falls drank that foul water. She was unconscious.”

“I will kill him then,” I say, standing.

“Carries an Axe doesn’t know any of this,” Gosling says. “Think about him. Think about your daughter. Think about your grandchild and what’s right for all of them before you act.”

Her words hit me as I walk out the door.

Despite my looking everywhere and asking everyone I see, I can’t find the boy. The snow’s mostly melted now, and the village paths are a ruin of mud. I can’t stand this place any longer and walk out the gates, the hairy ones watching me.

—

FOR TWO DAYS
, I hunt for He Finds Villages. I’ve even gone so far as to wait by that place where the crows caw each morning while the others sit or kneel or stand according to some strange plan. He’s disappeared. No one I speak to has seen him. The second evening, when I think he’s run off into the forest for good, word spreads that he’s been found. Gosling tells me.

“He’s by the river.”

A small group of hairy ones has gathered at a small stone-and-wood house along the palisades, the water of the river rushing by on the other side. They part way for me when I come up.

I walk through them and enter the small building. In the dim light of dusk, I see He Finds Villages. He appears to be floating, his legs off the floor. A chair lies on its side. His neck is bent at an angle, and his face is bloated. His head is cocked as if he’s just asked a question.

The Crow pushes by me and walks up to the body. The other crow, the damaged one with the missing fingers, follows right after, crying like a child. Together, they try to lift the boy up, but he’s long dead. I watch them fumble with his body, useless in their attempts to free him from the rope that holds him.

—

GOSSIP TRAVELS AS FAST
in this village as in any other. It appears that no one is quite sure why the boy killed himself, but everyone is certainly sure I hold the answer. After all, I was searching for him not so long ago, and it wasn’t with kindness. But I won’t speak. I’ve been avoiding Snow Falls and Carries an Axe out of necessity. I put on a stoic face, but inside I’m shaken by all of this. I won’t speak of any of it to my daughter or her man. Gosling’s right. Some troubles are better left alone.

They bury He Finds Villages outside their cemetery fence. Dawning of Day stands with Gosling and me, explaining it all. A large group of us stand here, watching from a safe distance. At first, I think he isn’t being buried with the others who’ve died because he’s Wendat.

“No,” Dawning of Day says. “There are many Wendat buried within that fence. He took his own life, though. According to their great voice, he won’t be able to go to the good place anymore.”

“Where does he go, then?” Gosling asks.

Dawning of Day shrugs. “Some place that is between this world and the other. It isn’t where everyone burns in fire, and it isn’t where everyone has everything they want.”

Near me, Snow Falls weeps, her head on her husband’s chest. I watch him wrap his arm around her. I can tell he doesn’t know. The crows talk in their strange language and make their signs and then throw dirt into the hole. When it is over, all of us walk away, sad and confused.