“Long Feather stopped and lowered his bow. The stranger’s voice had been so calm that it confused him.
“By then I was at Long Feather’s side. I held in my hands the rawhide cords I always carried on my belt. They were there to bind the hands of any strangers we encountered so that we could bring them back to our village as a prisoner. The other two men with me, Caller and Beaver Tail, had picked up their war clubs.
“The man gestured at us. ‘You do not need those,’ he said. ‘I have come to speak to you all. Bring me to your council. First, though, let me put out your fire. A fire that is left burning and not properly put out is like anger or revenge. It may end up destroying everything.’
“His words were so strange and yet rang so true that none of the four of us questioned him. We did not bind his hands or threaten him. We just stood there like children waiting for a parent to tell us what to do.
“As we watched, he carefully put out that small fire, first pouring water on it and then covering it with the loose earth he had placed around it. When he was done, there was no sign that a fire had ever been there.
“Then, walking ahead of us as if the path to our village had been made especially for his feet to walk it, he led the way. Everyone was waiting. None of us had run ahead to tell them to gather as they did, yet they were all there waiting. Even our dogs did not bark at him as he entered our stockade. Bear Killer, the strongest of our dogs, the one that was the leader of all the other dogs, came up to him and licked his hand.
“Smiling and nodding at our children, the stranger went straight to our council house where our elders were waiting. Then, as we all listened, he spoke of his strange birth and of the Great Peace that he was bringing.”
Again, Carries stopped and lifted his head as if listening.
“It happened that way?” Okwaho said. “Everyone accepted his words?”
Carries cupped his chin in his hand. “No,” he said. “Not everyone was ready at first to hear his message. Holds the Rattle, one of our elders, asked him why we should make peace. Our young men were strong warriors. If anyone dared to attack us and killed one of our people, we would quickly take revenge and kill one of their people in return.”
Okwaho nodded. He had heard that sort of thing said before . . . especially by Atatarho, the Entangled One, the black snakes in his hair hissing as he spoke.
“How did the Peacemaker answer Holds the Rattle?” Okwaho asked.
“First,” Carries said, “he looked around at us, at our confident young men, our leaders who seemed so sure of themselves.
“Then the Peacemaker nodded his head. ‘I agree,’ he told us. ‘I can see that your young men are strong. I have no doubt the warriors of your village will fight well against any who might dare attack you. But is that not also true of other villages? Is it not true that they also have strong warriors and determined leaders? Can any man, no matter how strong, survive when an arrow pierces his heart? Have any of your young men died in battle?’
“Only a season ago we had lost three men in battle against other Mohawks—men of our own nation from another community a day’s walk from ours—the Village by the Rapids. So the man’s words struck home. Even Holds the Rattle had to nod his head. But the Peacemaker was not done speaking.
“‘Let me tell you a story,’ he said.”
Carries looked at Okwaho. “Would you like to hear it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. This is the story he told, the story of the Great Battle.”
* * *
• • •
Long ago, there was a boy named Rabbit Foot. He had a special gift. He was able to understand the languages of animals and speak back to them as if they were human beings. One day he was out walking through the forest when he heard a sound. Somewhere a great battle was being fought. He followed that sound until he came to a hill. When he climbed that hill and looked down to the other side he saw the ones who were fighting. There, in a clearing in the woods, a giant snake was struggling with a huge frog. The snake had caught the frog by its hind legs and was starting to swallow it as the frog tried to pull itself free.
Rabbit Foot walked down to take a closer look.
“My friend,” he said to the frog, “your enemy really has you.”
“That is true,” the huge frog croaked, still trying to escape. “That is true. Can you help me? Can you help me?”
Rabbit Foot had been taught by his elders not to interfere with the natural course of things. It was natural for one animal to eat another. So he did not try to free the frog from the snake’s jaws.
But he did notice that the snake was lying on the ground in something very close to a circle. Its tail was right in front of the big frog’s mouth. Offering advice would not really be interfering, would it?
“My friend,” Rabbit Foot said to the frog. “Perhaps you could do to your enemy what your enemy is doing to you?”
“Good idea, good idea,” the frog said. It reached out with its front legs and grabbed the snake’s tail and stuffed it into its mouth. Then it began to swallow.
As the frog swallowed and the snake continued swallowing, that circle they formed got smaller and smaller.
This is getting interesting, Rabbit Foot thought.
The snake swallowed and the frog swallowed, the snake swallowed and the frog swallowed. And the circle got smaller and smaller until . . .
The Peacemaker clapped his hands together. “Pop!” he said. “They both disappeared. They had eaten each other.”
* * *
• • •
Carries smiled so broadly that it seemed as if the fish tattoo was going to swim off his face. “At first, some of us laughed. Others shook their heads. It was the sort of funny story that you might tell to a child. But then the story’s deeper meaning began to sink in. Like all of our stories, what the Peacemaker had related to us was meant to entertain and teach. Whether we were the frog or the snake, always fighting with each other would end up in both being wiped out. From that point on, everyone in our village began to listen to what the Peacemaker was saying. And in the end, it was agreed by all of us. We would join in his plan to bring the Great Peace.”
Okwaho looked down at their small walled village. The Peacemaker’s story made sense to him. Like so many stories that seemed simple at first, it contained a lesson. It was a lesson that could be applied in more ways than one. It was about the results of war—but it was also about him. He had been holding on to his anger for so long—like that snake holding on to the frog. If he did not let go, that anger would eat him. He would either be destroyed or become as twisted as Atatarho. It had cleared some of the clouds from around his head. He saw now that there was a way forward. It was a way as simple and clear as that story of the boy Rabbit Foot. It was a way that required him to let go of his anger, to clear the clouds from around his head. To no longer look back and regret the past, but to look forward. He turned to Carries.
“I want to follow the Peacemaker’s way,” he said. “What can I do?”
chapter thirteen
KEEP LISTENING
Carries placed his hand on Okwaho’s shoulder. “What can you do, my young friend?” he asked. “Do what you are doing now. Keep listening. And be ready.”
He stood and brushed himself off. “I have delivered my message here. Now I must move on to other villages and tell them to prepare. The Peacemaker will soon come.”
“Soon?” Okwaho said, rising to his own feet.
Carries nodded. “He has been to almost every other place in our land where the people have been suffering from endless war. But the last place he will come, I have been told, is Onondaga, to the big village your people left. That is where everyone, people from all of our Longhouse Nations, will gather to bring the Great Peace into being.”
“But what about Atatarho?” Okwaho asked, seeing in his mind the angry face of the
ir powerful, giant leader who had sworn that none were greater than him.
“The Peacemaker will speak to him,” Carries said. “And the Peacemaker will not come alone. He will have many people of our different nations behind him. And by his side will be his two greatest allies. Tsakonsaseh, the Mother of Nations, is the first of them.”
“Tsakonsase?” Okwaho said. Hers was a name he had heard before. Of course he had heard her name. Everyone knew her name. Her neutral lodge was far to the west where the war trails crossed. Anyone seeking shelter could come to her lodge and she would welcome them. She was known for giving advice to any warrior who sought her help. It was said that the path to war led through her lodge of peace. “Is that the same Tsakonsaseh whose lodge is by the huge waterfall?”
“Yes,” Carries said. “But she has left that lodge. The Peacemaker visited her and told her that a new day was coming. No longer, he told her, would she advise men about war. Instead she would help them remain firm to the practice of peace. It is said that she was the first to say she would follow this new path and help him bring the Great Peace. And because of that, it would be she and the women of the clans who would choose all our leaders in the future. So, from that time when she joined forces with the Peacemaker, she also began to carry the name of Mother of Nations. When the Peacemaker arrives at Onondaga, she will be with him.”
Okwaho took a deep breath. Tsakonsaseh would be coming to Onondaga, by the Peacemaker’s side? It was almost too much to believe. It was as if he had stepped from everyday life into the middle of a great story. But Carries had said that there would be two by the Peacemaker’s side.
“Who is the second one who will be with him?”
“Ah,” Carries said, the smile on his face growing broader. “It is one whose name you’ve already heard. Hiawatha. Do you remember?”
Okwaho remembered. Hiawatha was in the story Carries had told about the Peacemaker’s arrival. Hiawatha was the second assistant war chief of the people of the Flint Stone Village near Cohoes Falls, the first to believe the Peacemaker’s message. The new name of Hiawatha, He Who Is Awake, had been given him by the Peacemaker. He was to be the first among those new peace chiefs. What were they to be called? Royaners?
Okwaho nodded.
Carries smiled. “There is more to tell about him,” he said, “what happened to him after the Peacemaker left their village. This is the story of Hiawatha’s great loss.”
* * *
• • •
Of all the people of the Flint Stone, no one was a better speaker than Hiawatha. Everyone listened to his deep sonorous voice when he stood up in council to offer his opinion. He always seemed to think first of others and try to help them. Hiawatha was liked by everyone. He was a good father and had three daughters he loved dearly. Their mother had walked on from this life when the girls were young, but Hiawatha had taken good care of them. And now that the promise of peace had been brought to the people, he thought their futures would be bright and untroubled by war.
One by one, Hiawatha’s daughters became sick. No medicine was able to cure them and one by one they died. The loss of his daughters filled Hiawatha with such grief that he could no longer live among the people. His mind became clouded. He left the Flint Stone People and disappeared into the forest. Many had gone searching for Hiawatha, hoping to bring him back. But Hiawatha had been as elusive as a panther and all they had been able to find were the remains of cold campfires.
* * *
• • •
What had caused the death of his daughters? It was the work of Atatarho. Word of the Peacemaker had reached the angry great chief. In addition to his own power, Atatarho also had advisors who told him they could see the future. Those men prophesied that his way of war would be ended by two men who would come to him from the direction of the rising sun.
Atatarho had been given this prophecy even before Okwaho’s family and the others had separated themselves from Onondaga. But they knew nothing about the Peacemaker when they left. Atatarho had managed to keep his people ignorant of the fact that a Peacemaker had been sent by the Creator and was coming to them.
After hearing that prophecy, Atatarho had sent spies to the east to find out who those men who would threaten his rule might be. That was how he had found out about the one now named Hiawatha. Hiawatha was, his spies told him, the first of the Peacemaker’s new leaders, the one who would be by his side when he brought that Great Peace.
“NO,” Atatarho had thundered. “This must not be!”
Then he made a plan. The prophecy said that two men would end his way of war. What he needed to do was to eliminate one of them. Then the prophecy could not come true. But which should he get rid of? That one called the Peacemaker seemed to have great power and it might not be possible to do anything to affect him. Hiawatha, though, did not have such power. He would be the one to strike.
Sending warriors to try to kill Hiawatha might not work. The Flint Stone People were powerful and might defend him. Doing that might also result in his Onondaga Nation finding out about the Peacemaker. So his advisors suggested another tactic. Evil medicine could be used to destroy Hiawatha’s family. That would drive him insane and defeat the prophecy by preventing him from ever coming to Onondaga.
Atatarho’s evil plan seemed to work. One by one, Hiawatha’s beloved daughters died. With the death of his third daughter, Hiawatha became so burdened with sorrow that he could not bear the sight of another human being. He left his village and disappeared into the forest.
* * *
• • •
Carries paused in his story, looking out over the peaceful village below.
Okwaho sat nodding his head. It all made sense. Of course Atatarho would want to end any threat to his way of war. And Okwaho did not doubt that Atatarho had the power to kill anyone who stood against him by ways other than arrows or clubs or spears. He was truly evil and frightening.
While they were still at the big village, Okwaho’s mother, Wolf Woman, had cautioned him about their treacherous great chief.
“If you are ever invited into his lodge, my son,” she said, “be careful what you eat or drink. Do not refuse anything, for that would be an insult to him. But only pretend to put it into your mouth. If he ever sees you as a threat, he may poison you.”
Carries took a breath and let it out slowly. “Hiawatha’s loss was great. But his story did not end there. The Peacemaker heard what had happened and went looking for him. I shall tell you now of how he healed Hiawatha.”
* * *
• • •
The Peacemaker found Hiawatha deep in the forest, far from any village. He was sitting in a clearing by a cold campfire. It was easy to see that he had been living like a wild animal. His body was unwashed and nearly naked, his hair was dirty and matted. He had gathered snail shells from a pond and strung them on a deerskin cord. Those strings of shells were hanging from a little rack he had made of forked sticks. As he ran his fingers over those strings, he talked to himself.
He spoke to himself about how he had found those shells glittering in the shallow water of a little pond. He had picked them up one by one and begun to string them together, feeling as if each shell represented a tear he had shed for his daughters, a part of the sorrow that weighed so heavily on his mind.
“If only,” Hiawatha said, “someone could lift that sorrow from my heart like lifting a string of shells from this rack.” He looked at a piece of deerskin cloth he’d placed on the ground next to those strings. “If only someone would wipe away my tears.”
The Peacemaker approached him quietly. No one could move more silently than he. Soon he was standing behind Hiawatha, who still had not noticed him. The Peacemaker continued to listen to the words being spoken by that lost, lonely man. “If only,” Hiawatha said again, “someone could lift my grief from me the way one might lift up one of those strings of shells.”
&nbs
p; Even though he was mad with sorrow, those words Hiawatha spoke were clear. The Peacemaker recognized the wisdom of those words. It was the sort of wisdom that comes from the Creator.
The Peacemaker reached down and lifted up one of those strings of shells and that piece of deerskin. As Hiawatha looked up into his calm face, the Peacemaker began to speak.
“If anyone is as burdened by grief as you are, I will wipe away the tears from their eyes so they can see again.”
Then he took that soft deerskin cloth and wiped the tears from Hiawatha’s eyes.
Picking up the second string of shells, he said the second words of condolence. “From the ears of that person I will take away whatever is preventing him from hearing these words.”
One by one he lifted those strings of shells and spoke those words of condolence. The clouds of sorrow lifted from Hiawatha’s shoulders, his eyes became clear and he stood up straight.
* * *
• • •
Carries reached down to his belt where his two deerskin pouches hung. He did not choose the larger one with the design of the tree on it. Instead, he untied the smaller pouch, opened it, and took out a string of shells.
“Here,” he said, “hold out your hand.”
Then he placed that string of shells on Okwaho’s outstretched palm.
chapter fourteen
REMEMBERING
As he held the string of shells Carries had given him, Okwaho found himself remembering yet again how it had been when he and his two best friends had been together. But this time he was not remembering it with sorrow choking his throat. This time, that memory was bringing a smile to his face.
As Carries told him the story of the healing of Hiawatha, it had been as if Okwaho were there, watching it happen. Okwaho had not just seen the Peacemaker lifting the sorrow from the shoulders of Hiawatha, he had felt the sorrow being lifted from Hiawatha’s mind. And he had felt more of his own anger and desire for vengeance being cleared from his mind by that story like the wind from the south blowing away the snow clouds in spring.
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