“Yes,” Ofra said.
“Good,” Corban said. “Thank you. Go.”
Ofra slunk away, his head between his shoulders. Corban watched him wander off through the tight little nest of the camp. Only such a man would follow Tisconum now. Without someone to harry him along, he did nothing. Corban hoped he would at least get down to the Brother Rocks. He settled down, his chin on his fists, to think out how to get Tisconum and the others down there also; in the morning, he meant to go out to hunt for gobblers.
Ekkatsay had at first thought this was a great honor, going to the Turtle villages in Miska’s name, but now he was finding it an increasing annoyance. He had brought three men of his own lodge, good companions who had plenty of smoke and stories, but Miska had sent Ako along also, a troublemaker, a friend of Ekkatsay’s nephew Taksa; after the long raid Ako had gone off to join the Wolves and Ekkatsay thought well gone, but now here he was again.
Also: this was too large a group to travel fast and it had taken them three days already to get down to the Brothers. They were out of food with the evils of the swamp still before them. The warmth of the spring had brought out fogs of biting insects. Ahead of him lay still the matter of how to speak to Masito and the other Turtle sachems, which Miska had left for him to decide.
Then, he had thought that an honor, too. He had brought along his finest collar and belt, had imagined himself standing up splendidly before the awed Turtle chiefs. Nonetheless he had no idea what to say to them, and he was beginning to wonder if Miska believed he would fail, and give the Wolves the excuse to attack.
He walked around his camp once. They had set up on the shelving meadow above the little river, where an old beaver darn had made a pond, with a line of trees just behind to shelter them from the wind. The two women were building the fires smoky, to drive off the bugs. They would have to stay here for a day or two at least and collect some food. Fortunately there was plentiful sign of deer. He considered putting out a sentry but saw no reason: he was on Miska’s business, and Masito never attacked anybody.
The sun was going down, and the other Bears were gathering inside the circle of the camp. The women brought out a basket of acorn meal and spitted the last of the meat to cook over the fire. Ekkatsay went in toward the fire, in among his friends, who murmured friendly greetings and shifted to make room for him.
Ako was still on his feet, strutted, setting himself apart from them, as if he were really a Wolf. When finally he sank down by the fire and took meat with them, the other men jabbed at him
“So, I see your hair’s still tied, Ako. I thought all you Wolves wore it loose.”
Ako ignored them. He gnawed on a bone, the side of his head toward Ekkatsay.
Ekkatsay said, “They do that because of Miska. He was never bound. One of the many peculiar things about him.” He stretched his legs out, wishing he were in his own lodge, where he could call for more robes to cushion the ground. “It will take Ako a while to grow Wolf hair, I think.”
Everybody laughed but Ako, who sat straight as a birch, frowning, saying nothing.
Ekkatsay said, “Maybe you should think twice anyway. The Wolves did not win their great victory over the Sun people by themselves. Without the Bears, what could they have done?”
The others spoke out; this was an old song, and they all knew the words. “We did it all, if you ask me.” “There were more of us than them, after all.” “Nobody ever gives us any thanks.” They bubbled up with tales of their deeds; the long raid was already almost a longer story. The pipes came out, and the smoke rose.
Through it all Ekkatsay watched Ako through narrowed eyes; he guessed Ako would take what he heard back to the Wolf village, when this chore was done. It was good to let Miska know that the Bears didn’t think as much of him as some other people did. Miska wouldn’t have sent Ekkatsay on this trip, if he didn’t need his help. Nonetheless when he thought of facing Masito and the others his belly tightened.
“Ho,” Ako said sharply, and pointed down toward the river.
Ekkatsay looked, and saw a line of people walking across the shallows below the beaver dam. They wore long cloaks, and feathers in their hair, and the first of them carried a long staff, topped with bobbing gobbler tail feathers.
“What’s this?” He thought suddenly that Masito had come out to meet him, and a deep breath swelled him: this was an honor, surely, a sign that all this would go well after all. He got to his feet, waving to the other men to stand also. The women went into the back of the camp, and the men walked out to the open meadow, stood in a line facing the oncoming strangers.
Not all strangers. He gulped, and behind him one of the other men whispered, “Animal-Head.”
This was not Masito. Stunned, Ekkatsay could do nothing, only stand there and watch as the people before him ranged themselves in a line facing his, and the man with the feathered staff stepped forward, and it was Tisconum.
Ekkatsay said, “I will not speak to you.” It was all he could think of to say. His war club was back in the camp none of the other men would have a weapon. He thought suddenly if he could lay hands on Tisconum, and take him to Miska, that would solve everything.
Tisconum stood stiff and straight before him, the staff in one hand, his face hollow as a skull, and his eyes glaring. “I will speak to you, Ekkatsay! You stand where you are and listen to me!”
Ekkatsay had his hand behind his back, and was trying to signal the other men. “Why should I listen to you? You don’t even have a village anymore!”
“Ekkatsay.” From behind Tisconum another man came forward, shorter than Tisconum, stocky, and his head shaggy and rough as a beast’s. “Listen to me, then.”
In the utter silence he was the center of everybody’s looks. Ekkatsay clenched his fist behind his back. He was remembering this Animal-Head shaman walking up out of the wreckage of the Sun chief ‘s camp, which he had somehow single-handedly destroyed; a name suddenly came into his mind. He said, “I have no fight with you, ma-Corban-ka.”
The shocking pale eyes never wavered from him. The slow alien voice went on, picking words up like stones, and putting them down again in lines, and they all listened, silent.
“What has Miska sent you here to do? To start a war. Who will fight the war, Ekkatsay? You will, and your people. Haven’t you seen how many Wolves have died for him? Do you want all you Bears to die for him too?”
Ekkatsay said, “Die for him, or die against him, as Tisconum will, there, soon enough.” His mind flew toward Ako, behind him, surely remembering everything that happened here for Miska’s ears.
“How could he fight without you? Too many of the Wolves have died. He needs you.” Animal-Head leaned forward, and one hand rose, palm up, offering him something. “Go to Masito, and say, not, give in to Miska, but, let us join together and stand Miska down.”
Behind Ekkatsay somebody began to whisper, and another Bear hushed him at once. Ekkatsay said, “Then certainly we would die.” He thought suddenly of Miska, and his throat clenched; he remembered Miska’s club, striking down Taksa.
“He has no fighters without you,” Animal-Head said. “At least you could force him to talk.”
“Talk!” Ekkatsay slashed his hand down. “That’s all this is. Nobody can stand against Miska. Nobody can beat him. He can’t die.”
“Well,” Animal-Head said mildly, “he hasn’t died yet,” and then, behind him, Tisconum erupted.
“Enough of this! Ekkatsay, you are Miska’s thing, only, not a man! Not a sachem!” He strode forward, the feathered staff in his hand, and his eyes blazing. “I owe you nothing, evil man! I fling the staff down!” He cast the staff aside, and reaching under his long cloak he pulled out a knife and leapt at Ekkatsay.
Animal-Head bellowed; Ekkatsay staggered back, his bare hands raised against the knife, and tripped and fell. On the ground, he heard fighting, screaming, all around him, and then Tisconum was on him, a knee on his chest, crushing him down, the knife raised.
Animal-
Head loomed behind him, and caught Tisconum’s upraised arm and held it. The shaman was screaming volleys of words, furious, incomprehensible words. Ekkatsay gagged, choking, Tisconum’s hand on his throat, Tisconum’s knees on his chest, and the knife raised to kill him.
The shaman yanked Tisconum away bodily. Ekkatsay rolled over, sucking air, his head whirling, and lunged onto his feet.
“You held the feathered staff! You can’t attack me—”
He stopped, looking down the shaft of the spear aimed at his chest. The man holding the other end of it smiled at him, narrow-eyed. Ekkatsay glanced quickly around.
The Turtles stood all around him, all carrying weapons, even the two women. He saw only one of his own men, held as he was at the point of a spear. The other Bears were nowhere. As he looked he saw the two Bear women sprinting away from the camp through the grass. He clenched his teeth, humiliated.
Tisconum strutted up toward him, grinning, although he was covered with dust. Then Animal-Head strode up, and knocked the spear down.
“What are you doing?” he shouted up into Tisconum’s face. “You think this will help anything? Who will ever trust you again?” He turned toward Ekkatsay. “Go.”
Ekkatsay roared, “He might as well have shit on the feathered staff!”
“Just get out,” the shaman said. He pushed Ekkatsay roughly in the chest.
Back in the camp, suddenly, somebody let out a whoop. Ekkatsay wheeled. They were going into his packs. He gave a cry, and started that way, to save his belt and collar.
The other Bear said, “Ekkatsay. Come on.” The Turtles around him were standing back, their weapons lowered; he turned, without waiting for his sachem, and trotted away across the meadow, heading up the well-worn trail toward the craggy rocks of the Brothers. Ekkatsay stood breathing heavily.
He said, again, “You dirt-eater, Tisconum.”
“Go tell Miska all about it,” the shaman said.
Tisconum said, “Maybe I won’t let him.” The Turtle sachem raised his knife, and Ekkatsay dodged a few steps away. Tisconum laughed. Ekkatsay turned, and grimly started off after the other Bear, going north.
Corban turned toward Tisconum, who was putting his knife away on his belt. “You are the most worthless fool on either side of the big water.”
Tisconum shrugged one bony shoulder. He cast off the long ornamented deerskin cloak and the older woman came to get it. “I think you’re the fool, Corban. Look, here—” He pointed toward the camp, and crowed with laughter, delighted. “I have won a great victory over Ekkatsay, and I have his belts to prove it!”
Corban glanced over his shoulder. The Turtles were riffling through the Bear camp, and Ofra had stood up, holding an ornate bead collar up over his head like a trophy. Corban swung back toward Tisconum.
“A great victory. They were unarmed and outnumbered.” He put his hand on Tisconum’s chest and thrust hard, knocking the Turtle sachem backward. “Nobody will ever let you talk under the feathered staff again, do you realize that? It’s getting dark, let’s get out of here before they come back.”
Tisconum said, “They won’t dare come back.”
Corban grunted at him. He had worn a deerskin cloak also, to look like a Turtle chief; it was hot and he shrugged it off and flopped it over his shoulder. He looked up at the sky, turning red with the sunset. “I am leaving, Tisconum. You can come or not.” He started back toward the ford.
Arl was quickly there at his side, her face shining. “You’re right,” she said. “What you said.”
Corban said, “You would say that no matter what I did.”
“You won’t leave, will you?” she said.
“I want to be where Miska strikes,” Corban said. “I think Tisconum just made that a little more certain.”
He glanced back, and saw the others filing after him, carrying bundles of the Bear camp goods. Tisconum still stood there; Ofra had brought him Ekkatsay’s collar, and he was putting it on. Finally he stooped and picked up the feathered staff and started after Corban, strutting and parading with the staff. They crossed the ford and went off into the marshy land beyond.
Ekkatsay caught up with the rest of the Bears, all except Ako, and they went along quietly a while, until they came to the foot of the eastern Brother. The sun had gone down and in the gloomy twilight they found a place where the rock loomed up sheer above them, and made a camp there. One of the women had brought away the last of their food with her, and so they had something to eat.
They sat there in the dark, and one of the Bears said, “The Animal-Head cast a spell on us.”
Ekkatsay said, “Tisconum is a dirt-eating skunk.”
“But they wouldn’t have done that to us, except the shaman cast a spell on us.”
“Where is Ako?”
Somebody laughed. “He ran first. I haven’t seen him since then.”
Ekkatsay remembered his collar and belt and groaned. There was no use now going on to the Turtle villages on the bay; no one there would listen to him, after what had just happened. He imagined facing Miska and his insides turned to ice. He wasn’t sure he wanted even to go to his home village now.
“He was right, though,” said the man next to him, under his breath. “Miska only wants us to fight.”
The others murmured, agreeing. Ekkatsay hunched his shoulders. They had to go home. Ako would tell Miska whatever Miska needed to know. He began to shape this a little; he said, “The Turtles by the bay have never hurt us anyway. We should go home, and let Miska fight them by himself.” If Miska needed him, he might be willing to forget this whole matter here.
One of the other men whispered, “Let him fight the Animal-Head.”
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F I V E
The lodges were empty, since Yoto died, with only Hasei in one, and the brothers Faskata and Toma in the other. Most of the older Wolf boys had been hunting and fighting with the men of the lodges for a while, and had gone on the long raid. So it surprised nobody when, early in the spring, Miska decided to bind up the hair of all the eligible boys in a single big ceremony.
The boys made themselves ready. In the Full Worm Moon, they went into the forest and built their own lodge there, and hunted together. While they were there the older men came and ate with them, shared smoke with them, and decided which lodges they would belong to. In older days they would have taught the boys how to make war clubs, and instructed them in the ways of the war band, but the boys already knew that now.
Three days before the dark of the moon, the older men left, and the boys shut the doors of the lodge behind them. They stopped eating. They sat in the lodge and sang, and beat drums. On the third day all the people came out of the village, and surrounded the boys’ lodge and called them out.
As they pushed the door out, the women gathered around the opening, and as each boy crawled out they flogged him with sticks and branches. The boys struggled through, running even before they stood, and the crowd of women beat them until they were out of reach.
All the men stood around and watched, cheering and yelling, urging the boys on through the rain of blows. The boys tried to keep silent; even so now and then one yelped. Striped and bruised, one by one they escaped the thrashing of the women. One by one they ran into the village to the old oak tree, and there sat down in a circle. The men went around behind them and tied their hair up, and doing so named each one into his lodge. Then they all gathered around under the oak tree and feasted and danced; it was the first bursting season of the year and there was plenty to eat.
After their hair was tied up all the boys pulled the thongs out and shook their hair loose, like Miska’s hair, so they looked no different than they had before the ceremony. Epashti, watching this, wondered what the ceremony meant. Maybe, she thought, they had to have it because what they did was so far from what they said they did.
She thought this had always been so, but everybody was so used to it, nobody noticed.
The baby squirmed in her arms and yawned. She was tiny
, pale, not strong, her arms and legs like twigs. Ephasti kept her wrapped in the white deerskin that had swaddled Ahanton; she fed the baby all she could, her milk coming in strongly now that the spring was here, and the woods full of eggs and sweet young green shoots. Reluctant to put the baby down, she had not taken part in the beating of the boys, much as she wanted to give some of them a few good whacks, like her sister’s son Raki.
Led by Eonta and Anapatha, the women had laid their sticks heavily on the boys. They all showed welts and blackening bruises. Watching Lopi strut around, Epashti saw the stripes on his shoulders; Anapatha’s prize, he had drawn as many blows as anybody, especially from the younger women. Quietly Epashti sat down between two knobby roots of the oak tree and laid the child to her breast. Her son Kalu, tallest and strongest of the boys left unbound, raced up and down through the gathering of the people, whooping and leaping, the littler boys trailing him.
Just before sundown, one of the Bears who had come to live with them came into the gathering, out of breath, and filthy from hard travel.
It was the young man Ako, whom Sheanoy had given more than a favoring glance. Miska had sent him off to do something, which nobody had paid much attention to. Epashti glanced at Eonta, sitting in the next lap of the tree, and saw the old woman had noticed him, her brow furrowed, puzzled also. Ako staggered up through the crowd of happy people, drawing everybody’s eyes, and as the whole group fell still, he dropped down on his knees in front of Miska and clasped his hands up over his bowed head.
“What are you doing back here?” Miska said. He was sitting on the big stump before the fire, his pipe on his knee. His face was painted in Wolf marks for the ceremony and his eyes glittered out of a black mask.
“Kill me if I lie, ni-Miska-ka,” Ako said. “We were set on. Tisconum betrayed us, he brought weapons under the feathered staff.”
The Serpent Dreamer Page 26