This morning, we skip the crows talking in the chapel and wander out into the woods. We won’t be fed by them for not showing up, but Carries an Axe says he’s been setting rabbit snares along some runs he found.
“We shouldn’t have to rely on them, Snow Falls,” he says. “I’m a good hunter. I can look after us.”
When he says the word us, I feel my face heat up, but then I remind myself he speaks of everyone in the longhouses. I wish he stayed in mine, but Christophe Crow says Carries an Axe needs to accept the great voice if he wishes that comfort. Carries an Axe just laughs, and I know this angers Christophe Crow. But the Crow should be careful. Carries an Axe stays here to protect me to make good with my father. He doesn’t need these crows and their ways. I’ve seen Carries an Axe’s temper. In the chapel when Christophe Crow begins to seethe like rapids, his eyes darkening and his cheeks turning bright when he speaks of all the ways the Wendat and our world is wrong, I look at Carries an Axe and see that he seethes even more.
The two of us walk the trail leading to the river, and I recognize a few of the tiny trails running from ours that the hares use just as we people do to make their way through the forest. Soon it’ll be planting time and I wonder if there are still enough of us left living to work the fields back home, and in turn I wonder if the sickness will continue there until they’re all dead and if I will be forced to live in the strange village of the crows forever. But then, like sun breaking through the cloud, I see the hare up ahead lying on its side, the snare tight about its neck, the animal’s eyes closed.
Carries an Axe grins as he leans down and unties the thin cord from the saplings on each side of the trail. He weighs the hare in his hands and looks up. “This will be our feast tonight,” he says.
“Some feast,” I say. The hare is a large male and will feed more than just us. “You’ll have to do better than that to impress me.”
“Well, then,” he says, handing me the hare to carry, “let’s see how many others I’ve managed to take today.”
I take the snare cord from his hand and tie it about the animal’s feet so that I can drape it over my back. “Yes,” I say, “let’s see what you can snare today.”
By afternoon, we’ve taken two more rabbits and have been busy creating a stone weir to try to lure any spawning fish travelling up this smaller creek to take that route, just narrow enough I can straddle the bank and the rocks we’ve placed. With two more saplings, these ones cut long and sharpened at one end, Carries an Axe and I stand, me behind him, our weapons poised for the flash of their darting past. I try and try but my timing is off today, and instead of catching one I end up only blunting my spear on the stones at the bottom of the creek.
Growing bored, I stop trying and instead watch Carries an Axe in front with his back still to me, bent at the waist with his spear poised, clearly focused on getting one. I reach forward with my spear and poke him in his rear end. He jolts, slipping from his rock perch and landing in the water. He splashes about, trying to climb back out. I realize he’s struggling and I stop laughing. He raises an arm to me and cries out that he can’t swim and I need to help him. Moving as quick as I can on the slippery rocks, I reach for his hand, and just as I grip it his face turns from panic to laughter and he pulls me on top of him, the shock of the cold making me cry out.
He stands. The water barely comes up to his waist. Standing as well, I reach out and slap him.
“Why’d you do that?” he asks, looking like a hurt little boy.
Instead of answering, I climb out of the water, my teeth chattering, and stomp onto the bank. I’m going to run back to the crow village but then realize I might get lost. I sit on the ground like a child, feeling foolish even as I do it.
Carries an Axe climbs out, too. “You started it,” he says.
I look up at him. He’s right. Instead of letting my anger go any further, I stand. “I’m cold,” I say, shivering, my arms wrapped around myself.
Carries an Axe looks at me, his eyes confused. I watch them slowly light up. “Let me warm you, then,” he says. He walks to me carefully, as if he’s approaching an animal he’s not seen before. When he’s close, he opens his arms, and I do, too. The skin of his chest is warm against mine.
—
CHRISTOPHE CROW is angry with me. “You’ve not been coming in the mornings to listen to the Great Voice,” he says. Gabriel stands behind him as if to try and catch me should I bolt. We’re in the longhouse, and Aaron and I had been sitting by the fire laughing about when he saved my raccoon from the old woman who wanted to cook him. Aaron isn’t laughing anymore, though. He looks like he’s been caught doing something he knows he shouldn’t be.
“You will come tomorrow,” Gabriel says. I don’t like this one. I refuse to answer him and just keep my eyes on the fire.
Christophe Crow says something angrily to Gabriel in their language and then kneels to me. “Snow Falls,” he says. “You and I have known one another for a long time now. We’ve been through much together. In some ways, I may even owe you my life.”
I continue to stare into the fire.
“Snow Falls,” he says. “I beg of you to look at me.”
Not wanting to, I turn to him, his face close to mine. In the glow it almost looks like he has tears in his eyes.
“You are like a relation to me,” Christophe Crow continues. “We’ve made such progress and as soon as it appears that you are ready to live forever in the good place, you turn your back to me.” He continues to look at me, his eyes pleading. “Come back tomorrow so that you may hear what the Great Voice has to say.”
“And what if I don’t?” I ask.
“Let’s not be like this,” Christophe says. I see that he looks at Aaron. “I know that Aaron would very much like for you to come back.”
I want to tell the Crow that I am for Carries an Axe now, and he is with me. I, too, look at Aaron. His eyes are trying to tell me something. It’s all making me uncomfortable. “I don’t want,” I begin but then stop. “I want to go home,” I say.
“You will go home soon if that’s what you desire,” Christophe says. “After all, Bird is a powerful headman, isn’t he? I can’t keep you against your will.” Christophe looks at Aaron and then at me again. “But I’m not sure how much of a home will be left when you return.”
The words dig into me. “My home is still there,” I say.
“Many have died in that place, though,” Christophe says. “It won’t be the same. Keep in mind it was Bird who sent you here. He knows this place is safe, that it’s watched over by the Great Voice.”
“That wasn’t his dream.”
“His dream wasn’t to send you here?” Christophe asks.
“It was, but …” I search for the words. “He didn’t send me here so that I could be protected by the great voice. Those weren’t his words.”
“Then why did he send you here?” Christophe asks. I can feel Gabriel’s and Aaron’s eyes on me.
“To get me away from the sickness of the village,” I say.
“And the sickness of your village was a hundred times worse than here in ours, wasn’t it?” Christophe asks.
I want to get up and walk away. The Crow is twisting my words, is twisting my father’s dream.
“I’ll tell you what,” Christophe says, standing from his crouch. “After the planting, come with Gabriel and Aaron and me to the village of your cousins, to the Arendahronnon. Join us on the trip when the spring is almost summer.”
“And what if I don’t?” I ask.
“Come with us and watch what we do,” Christophe says. “That’s all I ask. Join us so that we may introduce the Great Voice to your cousins. And when we are done, you can go home if that is what you wish.”
I stand up now, too. “I’ll travel with you,” I say. “But then I’ll head home.” To show him I mean what I say, I quickly walk away, brushing past the crow Gabriel as I go.
—
WE’VE BEEN WALKING most of the day, Aaron lea
ding. He knows this land well. He now assures us we’re close to the village of the Arendahronnon. I hope so. I’m tired. Gabriel and Christophe Crow are having a hard time keeping up, and so we walk slower than we like. Hot Cinder joined us on the journey despite my not wanting him to. But he’s been good so far, talking little and just focusing on the travel. I’d wanted Carries an Axe to come, but Christophe grew angry when I asked. I was about to tell Christophe I wouldn’t go, either, but Carries an Axe assured me he’d follow from a distance and not let anything happen to me. “Go,” he said, kissing me. “We’ll make it an adventure. I want to test what kind of powers these crows have out in the forest. I’ll follow you, and none of them will even know.”
And now we must be almost there because I smell the scent of burning wood. Behind us, Christophe and the hairy crow don’t notice anything. They just keep talking even though they seem out of breath, neither of them paying attention in a place where there’s so much to be worried about.
Aaron signals for us to stop. I can see light through the trees farther down the trail, and that must be the beginning of the great cornfields of the Arendahronnon.
Something isn’t right, though. I look at Hot Cinder, and he has his fingers in his mouth. All of us crouch and drop back into the shadows. But the crows keep talking and breathing heavily, their feet slapping the ground in awkward strides as they come upon us. They’d walk right by, but I reach out my hand to them and signal for them to get down and be quiet. When they huddle with us, their eyes are round.
The smell of burning wood is strong. I’d assumed it was the scent of men clearing old stumps with fire, but this smell’s bigger than that. It’s far more pungent. And when I pick up the scent of cooking flesh on the wind, too, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Then the wind blows toward us, and I think I can hear the gleeful shouts of men doing something that gives them great pleasure.
Aaron crawls to me and whispers that he’s going to find out what’s happening.
I shake my head. “Don’t,” I whisper back. “Something’s very wrong.”
He ignores me and rises. “Wait here unless it becomes unsafe,” he says, then quickly moves toward the fields.
We wait for what feels like a long time. When he doesn’t come back, I signal for Hot Cinder and the crows to stay where they are.
The scent of fire grows stronger as I dart from tree to tree. The trail’s too dangerous to follow, and the light ahead through the new leaves grows brighter. I’m sure now that what I’m hearing is a war song, a victory song.
I crawl on my knees to the tree line where the three sisters have just begun sprouting. There’s no way to take cover there, so I can’t go any farther. But the open fields give me a view of the village. The palisades around it have been torched, and most of the longhouses within are burning or have already crumbled into ash. I’m shocked by how many warriors dance around the fires or torture the living. A large group of what must be prisoners sits on the ground with a few guards around them. It’s too far to make out the looks on their faces, but I know what they must be.
Hundreds and hundreds of war-bearers have come from all the nations of the Haudenosaunee. Then I realize with a shock that some of my relations must be in this great war party, too. Something almost like homesickness washes over me, but then I watch as a warrior raises his club to a man on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. The warrior smashes the man’s head and he falls over, his legs kicking in spasms.
All of it comes back. You, my father, and you, my mother, and you, my big brother. I don’t belong to you anymore. And I don’t belong to Bird’s people. The idea then comes to me that I’ll simply stand up and walk across this field and let them decide who I am. If they still believe I’m one of theirs, they’ll keep me. If not, they’ll kill me.
Just as I stand to walk across the field, I hear the chatter of a squirrel. It’s Aaron, back in the trees and motioning for me to get down. I shake my head.
He sneaks over to me and whispers, “What are you doing?”
“I think these are my people,” I say.
“They’re no longer your people,” he says. “Come with me unless you desire a cruel death for Christophe and Gabriel.”
I won’t be responsible for any more deaths, my father. As a gang of Haudenosaunee warriors pulls people from the group huddled on the ground and drags them toward a bonfire, I make my decision. Despite Bird’s wishes, I’m not a Wendat. But I’m no longer a Haudenosaunee, either.
Back where Hot Cinder and the crows huddle, Aaron instructs us to head back down the trail as quickly and silently as we can. As we stand to move, I see Hot Cinder hesitate. I realize he is still part of this tribe, and I’m certain then of what he will do.
Just as I’m about to warn Aaron, Hot Cinder says, “Father Christophe.”
The Crow turns to him.
“You’re the only one who’s been kind to me,” he continues. “But those others, do you know what they did to me?”
We all stare at him, and I’m frightened his loud voice will give us away. Aaron tells Hot Cinder to hush, but he pays no attention.
“Two of the donnés,” he explains. “One holds me down while the other puts himself in me. They say if I don’t tell anyone, they’ll teach me the secret of the Captain of the Day.”
Christophe’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open. “That isn’t true,” he says. “It can’t be.”
“You don’t believe me?” Hot Cinder says. “Do you want me to show you where I bleed?”
“No, Joseph,” Christophe says. “Come back with us and we’ll punish those men severely for this terrible sin. The Great Voice will punish them for eternity. I promise you.”
“There is no great voice,” Hot Cinder says. “You’d best get moving now.”
He runs away toward the village and the warriors who occupy it.
—
WITH NIGHT UPON US, we move quickly but keep losing the trail. No one speaks, though I’m sure we’re all thinking the same thing, that Hot Cinder will have told the Haudenosaunee of our whereabouts, and that there’s no doubt we’re being pursued through the darkness. This keeps even the crows moving as fast as they can.
Exhausted, we stop to catch our breath beside a creek, and like a small herd of deer, we drop our heads into the water to drink. It isn’t safe, though, because we can’t hear if anyone approaches over the burbling of the water.
I lean to Aaron and whisper that maybe we should cut off the trail and find a safer place deep in the forest where we can hide and rest. “Look at the crows,” I say. “They can’t go much farther.” Both are slumped by the water, their chests rising and dropping.
We urge them to get moving again, Aaron leading us up a small rise. I hope he’s considering my suggestion. Just as we make it to the top, something large darts out from behind a tree and strikes him across the head. I run through faint moonlight back down the hill, my heart beating in my throat, and straight into the arms of a large warrior.
JESU, DULCIS MEMORIA
I watch three Iroquois build a fire in a copse of trees off the trail. The other two tied the four of us up and left us sitting in the middle of the trail as they apparently search to see if there are others in our party. Gabriel and I whisper a litany of prayers in Latin, but when the two Iroquois return, one walks up and slaps each of us across the mouth. We sit and wait as the five congregate to talk in the trees off the path. I begin to whisper my prayers again, and Aaron finally comes to. He looks around, surveying the situation, and after a few moments, rather than pray with us, he begins singing his death chant, much of it about his love for Snow Falls. My strongest convert, and he still slips back into his dark ways so easily.
Our hands are tied painfully behind our backs, our feet bound as well. The Iroquois tongue is difficult for me to fully understand, but from what I can make out, they will dispatch Aaron here and take Snow Falls, Gabriel, and me back to the village at first light, where I can only imagine the torture
s we’ll face.
Dear Lord, I believe this will be the last time I see the sun rise upon this earth that You’ve created, and I pray You make me strong enough to accept with dignity and with grace the pain I’m about to endure, for my physical body is simply the vessel that holds my soul. When that vessel soon is shattered, my soul will rise up to You. For this I am grateful.
All five warriors are frightfully painted and glistening. They are similar to the Huron in build and disposition, and it would be difficult for any stranger to tell them apart. Three of them now emerge from the trees and onto the trail and roughly check Gabriel’s and my bonds, then reach for Aaron, whose voice doesn’t falter, and drag him back to the fire in the trees. With even greater shock, I watch as the other two reach down for Snow Falls, pull her up by the hair, and walk her a little way down the trail. With dawning horror, I realize their intentions when one yanks her skirt up and the other flips his breechclout to the side, freeing his erection.
“The Great Voice commands you to stop!” I scream. Both are apparently taken aback by my ability to speak the language. They drop Snow Falls and approach me.
“So this charcoal has learned the words, has he?” one of them says. Their facial features are so similar I assume they’re brothers.
“What you wish to do to that girl,” I say, “will send you to a place where the worst caressing you’ve ever witnessed will pale by comparison.”
The other reaches down and slaps me so hard that the spine of my nose pops and warm blood trickles over my lips.
“You are in no place to threaten us, charcoal,” his brother says. Above his voice I can hear Aaron’s song, and I know that they’re cutting or burning him now.
“Snow Falls,” I shout, “tell them who you are and where you come from!”
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