The Orenda

by Joseph Boyden

  “Well, my brother,” I say, looking over to Fox. “We’re in for a fight now.”

  We watch the advance, all of us behind the palisade quiet. As the two walls creep closer and closer to us, one on either side of the field, I find the tension of the last days slides off me. I listen to what I think are waves rhythmically hitting a sandy beach before I realize it’s the blood pumping through my body.

  Once again, I shout for the ones around me to prepare but not fire. The wall in front of us is within range of our arrows but I see how useless it will be to fire. There must be a way to breach it. I ask for Fox to please figure it out.

  He laughs. “If they come too close to our wall, we’ll just push theirs down on top of them.”

  Despite his joking, I wonder if it might possibly work.

  The Haudenosaunee walking behind the ones who carry the wall start firing shining wood and arrows at us, but now that we’re in their line of sight, so are they in ours. We exchange iron and arrows without much consequence when I hear a strange, familiar voice shouting out, asking us to fight hard. I glance behind me and see the crow named Isaac walking back and forth, looking up to us in his long robe, his arms out, his fingerless hands raised.

  Shaking my head, I turn to Fox and shout as more shining wood explodes, “Tell me again why I thought bringing them among us was a good idea?”

  Now that their wall is close to ours, their men dart out from its protection with torches and axes to attack our palisades and gate. We fire down and pour boiling water or pitch onto them, their screams by now something I’ve grown used to. I look over at the closest stone bastion and see that the hairy ones have a good angle and shoot as fast as they can at the ones behind the moving wall. But still, it creeps closer to our own.

  Despite our great effort, the enemy below now hacks at the pali-sades, and it can’t be long before they break through. “Fox,” I shout, “go down and pass poles up to the ramparts.”

  He knows not to question, and despite his wound, he’s slid down the ladder before I can turn back to the fight.

  He and another are soon handing up lengths of spruce and poplar hoarded to strengthen the palisades. I grab one and, reaching out, jam its tip against the enemy’s wall and start pushing with all my might. Quickly, the others see what I’m attempting, and putting down their weapons, they take up poles of their own, a gang of us now pushing against the top of the enemy wall so that we begin to feel it give way.

  A man shouts out beside me, and I see Isaac struggling to hold his own length of wood in his fingerless hands, but it slips from his grasp and falls to the ground. He looks at it for a moment, then places his nubs onto my hands, and together we push, watching as the wall that the Haudenosaunee built topples back and onto the ones crouching behind it.

  With a roar, we pick up our weapons and fire down upon the surprised enemy, sending most of them scurrying back to the tree line.

  This is a great victory, I think. This turning them back might be enough to send them home.

  I look for Fox to share this with him just as I hear men screaming and wood splintering down the line. The enemy’s second wall leans against our own and, as if in a bad dream, our palisades give way, collapsing into the village.

  NOW WE’RE EVEN

  Dusk settles as we prepare to fight up close. I hold my club in one hand and my knife in the other. Fox stays close beside me, and we move up to where the palisades were destroyed. It looks like the Haudenosaunee surprised even themselves, as only a handful jump through the breach and are quickly overrun by us. But we have no time to repair the damage they’ve done and instinctively gather by our ruined wall, their war-bearers on the other side shouting and whistling, readying themselves to charge in. The French have been left up in their stone buildings to keep firing upon any enemies who try to hack or climb in at other places. We’re in trouble. It won’t be long now.

  I tell Fox we’ll help defend as long as we can but then have to get back to the crows’ house and try to get the women and children out of the village and to a safe location. I think hard about how it is we’re going to do this. Aataentsic, please help me with that answer. Fox and I know what’ll happen now as we brace and the Haudenosaunee begin roaring on the other side, sending themselves into a frenzy. We’ll get all the people we can out of the village, even if we have to chop a hole through the palisades, and then we’ll fight until our last breath in the hope they can disappear into the forest and eventually make it out to the islands.

  Carries an Axe and Tall Trees stand side by side near Fox and me. We all look at one another and then at the palisades. The Haudenosaunee begin to climb through. Despite his injury, Fox is the first to pounce and meet them. He swings his knife and hatchet so that he pushes back a half-circle of the enemy. They try to surround him, try to get around him, but he stabs the first one who gets too close. This gives the other three of us the chance to jump in as well, swinging and cutting, trying to avoid their knives and hatchets and clubs as best we can. I feel a knife slice my arm but ignore it just as another Haudenosaunee swings his club toward my head. Rolling out of the way, I see Tall Trees kick the attacker so that the man falls back, and then Tall Trees is on top of him, crushing his skull with a hatchet.

  Two men have attacked Carries an Axe. I lunge at one with my knife, aiming for his lower back, the warrior screaming out and falling to his knees. The other one glances at me, and Carries an Axe swings his own hatchet, splitting the man’s skull. We hear shouting over the din and see several Haudenosaunee raining down blows on Tall Trees. By the time we get there, he’s on his knees, his face covered in blood. Carries an Axe screams and rushes the men, stabbing and slicing, his hatchet a blur as two and then three fall to the ground. But the other men keep swinging down on Tall Trees till I can see, as I myself bring my club down on one of their heads, that he lies flat on the ground, bleeding into the dirt.

  When we have killed all the attackers, Carries an Axe kneels down by his father. I turn at the approach of an enemy running at me with his hatchet raised and, ducking his swing, slice through his belly with my knife. When I turn back, I can tell Tall Trees is dead.

  Carries an Axe stands up and says, “My wife will be proud that I tried with my all today, yes?”

  I nod, and just as I begin to run to him so that together we can find Fox and get the women and children out of the village, an arrow slices straight through Carries an Axe’s neck. He falls to the ground, and as I reach him, he’s choking on his blood. His eyes are wide as he drowns in it, and I see there’s nothing to do for him as I hold him and he pushes against my chest, begging me to help. Let it be quick. Please, let it be quick. He pushes harder with both hands against me as if it’s me who’s killing him, and all I can do is hold his shoulders as the life pumps out of him in spurts until finally he goes still.

  As I make my way to stand, a scream of pain shoots through my leg, and as I look down, I see an arrow sticking out of my thigh. I try to stand but fall over as a Haudenosaunee runs up, both hands raising his club above me. I lift my arm with my knife to try and stab him but swing pathetically. He smiles, then tenses, and just as he begins to swing down a body flies into him, knocking him over. Fox rolls on the ground with the much bigger man and, slipping around to the man’s back, takes his knife and slits across his throat.

  He stands and runs to me. I think he’s going to help me up but instead snatches the arrow and pulls it out of my leg. I roar with the pain.

  “There,” he says. “Now we’re even.”

  THIS IS MY BODY, WHICH IS FOR YOU

  It is with a happy heart, dear Lord, that I tell You that each day I have tried to live by Your word, and each day I have always sung Your praises. I am blessed to find myself in a foreign land surrounded by a people in need of Your guidance, and I am closer to becoming the man I’ve long wanted to be. Please accept me into Your kingdom with open arms, for, after treading so close many times in the past, I now understand that Your kingdom is near.
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br />   Dear Superior,

  I write to you with a heavy heart that shall soon be enlightened. I write to you with the understanding that most probably you will never receive this epistle which I fear will be my last. Our mission is under siege by the Iroquois, and they are bent on our destruction.

  While I have in no way fulfilled what I had once as a young man hoped to fulfill in this wilderness, I can’t imagine an earthly paradise grander than this one. Despite the darkness that constantly threatens this place in which I find myself, I have had the immense privilege of living amongst a people at once craven and prone to the basest of appetites, and more generous and even gentle than any I’ve ever had the pleasure to know.

  I’ve tried to shepherd these people toward the good pasture, and it has been a blessing to be aided in this effort by two young Jesuits, each gifted in his own right. Please pray for us all, and in those prayers ask that we soon will rest in His arms.

  A horrible battle rages outside the mission palisades, and I’ve tried to comfort not just the dying but also those who fear what comes. We huddle now, hoping the enemy won’t get in. The damaged roof of the chapel offers scant comfort from the screams of the wounded. The afternoon wanes, and I myself fear the coming darkness worst of all.

  I look around at the small group who still holds faith in this place. One of my oldest converts, Delilah, hardened into a shell in recent weeks, sits glumly alongside a handful of Huron and a couple of Algonquin fur people. And then there is sweet but damaged young Snow Falls, her newborn wrapped in rabbit skins and sleeping now in a covered basket beneath the table upon which the tabernacle sits. It was my suggestion to put the baby there when Snow Falls wandered in just as the fighting grew hot again. It seems the safest place in the event more arrows fall upon us.

  I try to maintain a hopeful countenance, but any words I speak are punctuated by men shouting or dying or killing. Instead, I bow my head and pray, hoping the others might follow me and find a little solace. As the afternoon wears on, people come and leave, always rushing. To where, I have no idea.

  Gabriel has been out tending to the wounded and finally returns with Isaac at his arm. Gabriel looks at me.

  “There were many close calls,” he says, “but our brother managed to escape unscathed.” Gabriel shakes his head and sits.

  “I helped the Huron prevent one breach of the palisades,” Isaac says breathlessly. “And it worked. But the wall at the far end of the village has fallen to a second attack.” He stares at me, his eyes bloodshot. “The time has come, Père Christophe. The enemy is inside the gates.”

  I’m at once drawn to and repelled by his crazed eyes, this fever that’s overcome him. I hear the distant shouting of men fighting within the walls of the mission. “What is it time for, dear Brother?” I ask.

  He looks at me as if I’m stupid. He wants to say something but bites his lip as he scratches his head with the stump of his hand. “We still have time for Communion,” he says.

  He’s right. “Please, Isaac,” I say, “prepare the Eucharist.”

  I take my place and ask that we all join hands in prayer. We gather in a circle, all except for Snow Falls, who seems hesitant. “You partook of the body of the Great Voice this morning,” I say. “You are ready to partake of it again.”

  Everyone flinches as a musket fires nearby. I offer my hand to her. She stands and comes to me.

  Isaac returns, clasping a dish between his arm and body. “Thank you, Brother,” I say, reaching for it.

  He pulls away. “Père Christophe,” he says, “will you please allow me to serve the Eucharist?”

  Another musket fires close by. I nod.

  Isaac bows his head, and the rest of us follow. He whispers what I recognize as one of his favourite Gospel passages, rooting around in the dish until he’s able to grab a Host in the fold where his thumb once met his palm. “For I received from the Lord, that which I also delivered to you,” he whispers, “that the Lord Jesus, in the night in which he was delivered up, took bread, and having given thanks, broke it, and said, This is my body, which is for you: this do in remembrance of me.”

  Isaac places the thickness of it into his mouth and chews, struggling to swallow. He moves then to Delilah, who gazes blankly back at him as he again fumbles to grasp a Host. She opens her mouth obediently when he finally manages.

  And then he turns to Snow Falls, managing to grasp a large Host more quickly now. The bleat of her baby echoes from under the tabernacle and she turns to it, but Isaac whispers and she turns back to him to accept the Host in her mouth.

  When it’s my turn, I see that Isaac shakes and sweats, and I fear for the commotion he’s about to cause. Almost dropping the dish he pinches between his chest and arm, he manages once more to grasp a Host and raises it to my mouth. I accept the offering, but a bitterness explodes, making my mouth salivate and my throat close.

  I gag and spit it up into my hand. “What’s wrong with this sagamité?” I ask.

  Isaac looks at me. “We are dying for them, Père Christophe.” He shudders and then spits up onto himself. “The village falls soon, and it’s best to die for them now.” He looks at me with a sudden clarity I’ve not seen in him before. “To allow us to be tortured before death is a brutality I can’t allow.”

  I look in horror at Snow Falls and Delilah. Both sit on their haunches, holding their bellies.

  “What did you put into the Eucharist?” I ask Isaac.

  “Ingredients that will act quickly,” he says. “Death-cap mushroom and water hemlock. I tried it on a dog, and he passed within minutes.”

  I slap him. “Are you insane?” I shout.

  Delilah begins to cry and moan, and the others in the circle have stepped back, all but Gabriel, who throws himself between us. “What’s happened?” he asks, confused.

  As the sound of nearby fighting erupts outside, a group of frightened women and children rushes into the chapel, Sleeps Long and Gosling among them.

  “Isaac has killed them,” I say, pushing him out of the way and grasping for Snow Falls, who’s collapsed onto her back and begins to convulse.

  DID I DO THIS TO YOU?

  I know something’s wrong as soon as I enter, even before I see the crow Isaac and Dawning of Day lying dead on the floor. What has happened? Have the Haudenosaunee already attacked?

  Christophe Crow rushes to me. “Quick,” he says. “Your daughter.” He’s crying. No.

  I shove through the throng of women and children who’ve come here as the fighting begins to spread throughout the village. Sleeps Long crouches beside my daughter, holding both of their babies as Gosling furiously tries to push charcoal into Snow Falls’ mouth.

  “What is this?” I roar.

  “Isaac went mad,” the Crow tells me. “He ate poison and fed it to Delilah and your daughter.” I kneel down and Gosling looks at me. Her eyes, they’ve always told me the truth.

  But this can’t be true. My hands begin shaking and I see sharp colours. “Save her,” I whisper.

  My daughter’s body quakes. Her eyes are open but don’t look like they can see anything. Blood drips from the side of her mouth, and her lips are black from the charcoal. She looks like she shivers to death.

  “I’m sorry, my love,” Gosling says.

  I stare down into my daughter’s face, wondering how it rains in here but not outside until I realize that I am washing her in my tears. My daughter. Oh, my daughter. Did I do this to you?

  Sleeps Long takes my shoulder. “Here, hold her,” she says. She hands me my tiny granddaughter. Her eyes are open, too, and see nothing either, not yet. I cradle her as my daughter begins to convulse more strongly. I lie down beside her, the baby between us. She reaches a hand out and touches her mother’s lips, cuddles her face into Snow Falls’ cheek. My daughter. Did I do this to you? Did I cause such pain to all of us? What if we’d never come across your family on that winter day? What if I’d never killed your parents and taken you for my own? Would all this bad blood betw
een your people and mine have turned so poisonous?

  I take my daughter’s hand in my own. “I’m sorry,” I whisper in her ear. Her hand squeezes mine, as if she can hear me.

  DRUMMING INTO THE OTHER WORLD

  As Christophe Crow gathers those in the room into a circle, I watch as Isaac Crow walks toward the shining box, my baby sleeping in her birch basket underneath the table. But instead of going into the shining box for the round ottet, he reaches into a secret pocket in his black robe that he sewed for when he did tricks for the children. He pulls out a dish and some other ottet and sets them on the table. He then rips the bread into chunks and places the pieces in the dish.

  He comes back to the circle and whispers words in his tongue before eating a piece from his dish. He then offers it to Delilah, who chews, her eyes blank, and then he offers it to me.

  My baby wakes and begins to cry just as Isaac is about to feed me. He tells me it’ll only take a moment. The large piece that he stuffs into my mouth with his damaged hand tastes horrible. I want to spit it out and look at Delilah. But she chews without complaint. I don’t want to be rude to the crows so I chew as fast as I can and try to swallow the bitter-tasting food quickly. Immediately I feel pain in my stomach and wish I’d let myself cough it out.

  Christophe Crow’s face shows that he doesn’t like the taste, either. He spits out his ottet, and that’s when I kneel beside Delilah, who’s already on the ground, and try to make myself throw it up. Nothing but spit comes out. The inside of my stomach feels like it’s been sliced in half and begins to burn. Christophe Crow slaps Isaac and rushes to me. Isaac collapses to the ground.

  Christophe Crow sticks his fingers in my mouth, and I gag so hard that I spit out red. “You must throw it up,” I hear him say as I fall over onto my side when the pain gets too great.