Stolen Away

by Christopher Dinsdale

  Kiera tilted her head in surprise. “Did you say arrived? You mean to tell me that you and Sooleawaa are not Beothuck?”

  “Although our great-great-grandfather was of your homeland, the place you call Ireland, our blood is otherwise part of the Mi'kmaq nation.”

  Kiera was completely confused. “Did you say Mi'kmaq?”

  “Yes,” explained Chocan. “The Mi'kmaq people are from a land beyond the setting sun. It is a very dangerous crossing to our homeland, and it is attempted only on rare occasions.”

  “So the Teachers from Ireland didn't settle here with the Beothuck. They settled in the land of the Mi'kmaq. Is that what you are saying?”

  “That is correct.”

  “So you are a stranger to these people as well.”

  Chocan smiled. “It felt just as strange to me as it did to you when, for the first time, I smeared red ochre over my entire body. But the ochre is such an integral part of their beliefs that without it, they would always consider me to be an outsider. And you do get used to it, even like it. Ochre is like a second skin to me now.”

  Kiera looked off into the distance. “It sounds like the Beothuck are going through almost the same spiritual conflict as my Viking masters.”

  “How so?” asked Chocan.

  “The Vikings once believed in many different spirits, or gods, as well. There was a god for the sea, a god for thunder, a god for the dead, plus many others. But several generations ago, the message of the Teachers began to find a home within the hearts of some of the Vikings. Unlike here, where the people seem to be able to accept both beliefs, the Vikings have split themselves into two groups: those who believe in the One Great Spirit and those who hold onto the ancient faith of the many Norse gods.”

  Chocan looked off as he thought about this information.

  “Thank you for sharing your news with me, Kiera. It is good to know that the word of the Teachers is spreading among other nations, as well. Sometimes, I feel that our efforts in sharing the Teachers' words are largely in vain. Even in the Mi'kmaq nation, the numbers of believers are dwindling, and after old Atchak passes on to the next world, I am not confident that I will be able to maintain the seeds of faith within the Beothuck people. You can already see how the people continue to revere the shaman. Given the uphill battle, sometimes I feel like I should just give up.”

  Kiera placed a comforting hand on his back. “But I don't think that is who you are, is it? I can't see you being the type of person to give up so easily. You certainly demonstrated patience when it came to me.”

  Chocan smiled. “You are right. I can't stop. My faith, my beliefs are a part of me. I will continue my work, do what I can and leave the rest up to powers of the Great Spirit.”

  The sky was darkening, and cold wind blew in from the northern hills. Kiera shivered. Chocan led her to the warmth of a nearby fire. Kiera looked around at the band members wrapping the fresh meat and cleaning up the few unwanted remains. Like the Vikings, the Beothuck didn't waste any part of the valuable carcass.

  “So what happens now?”

  “We will pack soon. It is time to move the band into the woods and prepare for winter. In fact, I need to return to the river and help store the canoes for next year.”

  Chocan stood up to leave, but Kiera grabbed hold of his hand. “Thanks again for rescuing me yesterday.”

  His rugged face glowed in the roaring flames as he smiled down at her. “You, Kiera, have also rescued me with your words of hope. I thank you as well.”

  Their hands slowly, hesitantly, slid apart. Chocan gave her one last flash of a smile, then disappeared into the growing darkness.

  THIRTEEN

  Kiera examined the pile of icy brown vegetation. “Do you think this will be enough?”

  Chocan threw the last slab of frozen moss onto the sledge and wiped his forehead with the back of his mitten. He was sweating despite the frigid weather. He stomped to the front of the sledge and grabbed the guiding poles.

  “Let's go back and see.”

  They left the dark cedar glade and walked silently through the glistening trees. Kiera's breath clouded the air and hung like an unfinished thought. She pulled her caribou cape across her chest as a winter breeze tried to worm its way through her layers. The cape had belonged to an older member of the band who had died just a winter ago.

  The chatter of children could be heard before they arrived in the clearing that held their winter home. It was a brilliant location. The clearing was surrounded by a thick wall of evergreen forest that would protect their soon-to-be-constructed village from the worst of the bitter, winter winds. A small but deep creek gurgled along the edge of the clearing. It would provide the band with a source of drinking water. Near the centre of camp, several men were digging deep holes into the ground.

  “What are they doing?” she asked.

  “They are preparing the ground for the caribou meat. We will put the wrapped meat in the holes then cover the food with layers of dirt and rocks.”

  “Why bury it?” she asked.

  “There is simply too much meat to smoke. The frozen ground will keep it fresh. Putting the meat in the middle of camp will also help keep the scavenging animals at bay.”

  They trudged around piles of wooden frames. Some sets were in the process of being erected. Kiera watched with fascination as the two tallest men in the village worked together, the oldest sitting on the shoulders of the younger. The man on top reached up, took hold of the longest vertical poles, and pulled them together into a set of graceful arches, where he lashed them into a tight hexagonal pattern with thick strips of leather. The mamateeks in the centre of the winter village were already complete. The sweet smell of cedar smoke trickled out through the top vents and drifted through the still air of the camp like an early morning fog.

  Chocan and Kiera continued towards an unfinished mamateek. The upper half of the curved wooden frame stood naked against the bitter winter air, while the lower half was in various states of undress. Both children and adults scurried in and around the structure. Several children dragged large chunks of birch bark to the structure while the adults skillfully placed the pieces in a puzzle-like pattern, ensuring that the curved surface of their home was both wind and rainproof. Huritt saw their approach, greeted them and examined their load.

  “I think you have enough to finish the job.”

  “Good,” groaned Chocan, stretching his back.

  “And there wasn't much moss left in the clearing, either,” added Kiera. “The pickings were getting a little thin.”

  Shawnadit popped out of the mamateek and ran into Kiera's arms. Kiera flipped her upside down and tickled her until she squealed with laughter. As Kiera returned her to the ground, an older boy asked Shawnadit to fetch more birch bark. Giving Kiera one last hug, she skipped off merrily into the woods.

  Kiera, Chocan and Huritt unloaded the moss from the sledge and passed the pieces up to the waiting hands that reached out through the top of the unfinished frame. The moss was then carefully placed on top of the layer of birch bark. Kiera knew that the moss would be used to help insulate the mamateek from the cold winter winds. In many ways, the winter mamateeks were similar to the low, sod-covered Viking longhouses.

  “I think I need a drink of water.” Chocan's voice was rough and dry.

  Kiera stretched her back. “I'll join you.”

  Chocan grabbed two birch containers and led Kiera to the stream. As he knelt down in the snow and scooped up the water, Kiera stared into the quickly moving creek and thought of its journey. The stream would eventually join a river, which would lead to the coast and finally open itself up to the endless sea. The ocean. Even the gurgling laughter of the stream haunted her memories. There would be no better time. She had to tell him.

  “Chocan?”

  He looked up as he passed her a container of water.

  “Yes?”

  She stared at her reflection in the cup. “I have to go home.”

  “Home?
”

  She hesitated. “To Ireland. To my family.”

  He stared at her with his dark, penetrating eyes. “You are not happy here, with us?”

  Kiera lowered her eyes in shame. How could she make him understand?

  “Your family, your band, your people have welcomed me into their hearts. You and Sooleawaa have also saved my life several times. And for all of these things, I will always be truly grateful. But you need to understand, this is not my home. I need to go back.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence.

  “How?” he asked.

  She sighed. “Unless you know of another way across the ocean, I will need to get back to the Viking village.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “Return to your captors? How will that help you get home? You will only be forced to return to your duties as a slave.”

  “They are my only way back, Chocan. They will soon leave this land. They do not have the warriors or the weapons to fight off the raiding Thule. Thorfinn will lead his people back east to the land of the Vikings, perhaps Greenland or Iceland. Although I will still be a slave, at least I will be another step closer to Ireland.”

  Chocan turned away from her and looked off into the distance. “You truly believe that the Vikings will someday allow you to return home?”

  “I know it's unlikely, perhaps impossible, but it is still my only glimmer of hope.”

  Silence.

  “When must you be back?”

  Kiera tried to clear her dry throat. Was he disappointed? Of course he was. The bond that they had built between them was strong and real. She was choosing a life of slavery over a life of freedom with his people. Even with the fur coverings, she felt cold and hollow. She hadn't thought that telling Chocan would be so difficult.

  “I think they will be leaving some time in the spring. They will need to get back to Greenland or Iceland by mid summer if they are to prepare shelters for the following winter.”

  From his profile, Kiera could see Chocan frowning.

  “Spring. It will be difficult. During the caribou hunt, I asked my fellow brothers from the north lands about your village. They have only heard about it through their Thule captives, the ones who have caused your masters so much trouble. The Thule have been a problem for us also. They have taken some of our northern lands by force. A war council was convened at the Meeting Place in order to plan for the removal of the intruders. Atchak and the other elders have decided that we will attack the Thule in the summer. To get you home before the Vikings leave, you will have to make your journey before then. You will have to cross Thule-held territory.”

  Kiera shuddered, but she was able to maintain a strong voice. “I understand it might be dangerous.”

  Chocan nodded. “Dangerous, yes, but perhaps still possible.”

  “I understand the dangers. I will also do whatever it takes to trade for one of your canoes. If you would be kind enough to give me the directions back to the Vikings, I will leave at the earliest possible moment.”

  Chocan shook his head, still facing away. “You cannot do it alone.”

  “I have to try.”

  He turned and faced her. “I will take you.”

  “Chocan, you can't! You are a Teacher. You are needed by the band, by this whole nation! I can't ask you to do this.”

  He stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “I want to do this.”

  She tried to hold back the tears. “Are you sure?”

  Chocan smiled. “We will have to wait for winter to pass, but yes, if it is your wish, then I will take you not to your home, but back to your Viking masters. There is a difference, you know.”

  She embraced him warmly. “Yes, I know. And thank you.”

  FOURTEEN

  The winter had been long and difficult. Even though it was one of the most bitter in recent memory, the temperature inside the mamateek stayed relatively pleasant. Kiera admired the efficient design of the structures. Fourteen people lived within her mamateek, sharing both the heat of the central fire and the resulting smoky air. Above their heads, worn but colourfully decorated caribou skins lined the walls. The painted images of forest animals on the skins danced in the light of the crackling fire.

  To pass the time away during the dark evenings, most of the adults and children enjoyed playing a game called Chance. It involved throwing a handful of beautifully decorated two-sided bones onto the dirt floor. The pattern was different on each side of the bone. The goal was to predict which sides would land facing up, and points were given depending on how the pieces fell.

  Kiera also enjoyed playing the game, but she preferred to spend most of her spare time in a different way. She sat quietly in her back corner with Shawnadit, teaching her how to work the needle in and out of the small, discarded scraps of leather she had scrounged from the remains of the great hunt. Together, they sized and cut, sewed and hemmed, embroidered and dyed the small, leather pieces. Kiera was impressed with how quickly Shawnadit was able to learn the skill of sewing.

  Occasionally, the other clan members would crawl over to stare in awe at their evolving creation. They were fascinated with Kiera's artistry and quietly watched her expert hands work the leather. Although everyone in the mamateek chattered in excitement as the garment neared completion, Kiera had made everyone swear to keep her project a secret once they stepped through the covered door of the mamateek and joined the outside world.

  Shawnadit was seemingly attached to Kiera's hip. She mimicked Kiera with every movement and every gesture, right down to her harsh, choppy way of speaking the Beothuck tongue. Although Kiera occasionally tired of her shadow, she never openly demonstrated frustration towards her adopted little sister. When Kiera needed a break, she would don a pair of snowshoes and trudge out into the serene forest for an invigorating walk. In the stillness of the woods, she could close her eyes and let the icy fingers of the winter wind carry her home.

  When tired of sewing, Kiera enjoyed spinning fantastic tales of her faraway homeland for the enthralled band members. She would also add a Bible story or two as she remembered them from her talks with the friendly priest in her village. The band members, however, were more interested in the mythical creatures and gods of the Viking sagas. They would beg to hear of the mighty battles of Odin and Thor against the various evil serpents and leviathans that lurked deep within the waters of the ocean. The Beothuk were as connected to the sea as the Vikings. Kiera's new friends also depended upon the salmon run and the plentiful birds' eggs found on the nearby coastal islands. The prosperity of both cultures rose and fell on the whims of the mighty water that connected their two lands.

  After listening rapturously to the Viking tales, the elders would then in turn share their stories and beliefs of the Beothuck world. Kiera marvelled at the rich, detailed tales of life, death, war and the activities of the spirit world. Chocan would also spin his stories of the Great Creator. Sometimes they were as new to her as they were to the youngest of the band members, but occasionally, Kiera would recognize the story from her childhood memories. Kiera was amazed at some of the similarities, especially considering the fact that the original Teachers had first shared them with Chocan's ancestors over two hundred years before.

  It was during a howling late winter snowstorm that Chocan sat cross-legged in front of the fire, his eyes aglow in the crackling flames, words fluttering from his lips like a distant dream.

  “A man named A'kmaran lived in a village in a faraway land. He was comfortable there, with a large family and plenty of good hunting. But his family and the other villagers believed in many different spirits and feared many superstitions. One night, the Great Creator came to A'kmaran in a dream.

  “He said, “A'kmaran, I am Gitche Manitou, the Great Spirit, the Creator of all things and the Giver of Life. There is no other but Me. Do not believe the tales of these people. You and your wife must leave your home and journey a great distance by canoe to a place of fresh water and good hunting. You will call th
is place the Promised Land. Once there, you will settle with your wife and worship only me. Your descendants will become powerful, and they will spread my word throughout the world.”

  Chocan paused, then looked around at the children. “Do you think A'kmaran wanted to leave his family and friends?”

  “No,” said the children in unison.

  “Do you think he might have been scared to begin a long voyage to a place that he had never seen except in his dreams?”

  “Yes,” they answered.

  “I think he was scared, too. But do you know what allowed him to begin the journey? He had faith. He had faith that the Great Creator would be with him, even though his friends and family told him that he was crazy for wanting to leave such a comfortable life.”

  “I think he was also brave,” added an older boy.

  Chocan smiled. “Yes, he was that as well. Without ever looking back, he and his wife left their village and set out across the waters in search of the Promised Land.”

  “Did he ever find it?” asked a young girl.

  Chocan nodded. “Yes, he did. He was, however, very old when he finally arrived. But the Creator kept his promise and made his children and their children and all of their descendants strong and prosperous. So strong were the Creator's words that his story has reached us after the passage of a thousand moons and the distance of an entire ocean. The Teachers wanted everyone here to know the story. Two hundred years ago, they travelled all of the way from Kiera's homeland to ours in order to bring this story to us.”

  He turned to Kiera. “Do you know of this story?”

  She nodded. “It is one of the Bible's oldest stories. In my language, the names of the travellers were Abraham and Sarah.”

  “Abraham and Sarah,” Chocan repeated, slowly. “I will remember that. Now if you will excuse us, children, I must speak to Kiera outside.”

  The children moaned their objections as the two stepped out of the tent. They were immediately assaulted by the crisp, blowing winter air. A fresh blanket of snow covered the clearing and mamateeks, giving the conical structures the appearance of a group of smouldering ice-capped volcanoes. With the strengthening sun, the snow had softened considerably, allowing the two to stand on its packed surface without sinking. She folded her arms against the cold and turned to him.