Silver Totem of Shame

by R. J. Harlick

  “Come on, Awaay. It’s over. Tell her what she wants to hear. If not, I will,” Harry said with a sudden display of independence.

  “It’s a map,” his mother said through gritted teeth.

  “Why don’t you take it off and show us.”

  Rose wrenched the pendant from around her neck. In the process it became entangled in her long hair. When she finally freed it, she threw it at Louise. It landed out of reach, so Johnnie retrieved it. He looked it over thoughtfully before passing it to his aunt.

  Louise gently brushed off the dirt. “It’s been a long time since I’ve held this. A family heirloom you Europeans might call it. My nanaay many generations back made it. We don’t have a term for ‘great’ in Haida, but she would be a great-grandmother several times over.” She glanced over at Rose. “I guess she was your nanaay too.”

  “Damn right,” Rose spat out. “I have as much right to it as you.”

  “No, you don’t. And you know why.”

  The two women locked eyes for what seemed interminable minutes. Rose was the first to look away.

  Louise continued. “This long-ago nanaay was the sister of Old Chief and the Matriarch of the Greenstones. Before she died she gave this pendant to her daughter, who became the next Matriarch and so it has been passed down through these many years, from Matriarch to Matriarch.” She caressed the greenstone, then clenched it tightly in her fist. “But only the Matriarchs know its secret. So Rose, how do you know? I’ve never told anyone, not even my own daughter.”

  “Yeah, well someone in your la-di-da family squealed,” Rose spat out. “My nanaay knew about it. She told me.”

  “She must’ve learned it from her mother, our common ancestor, the Greenstone Matriarch at the time. But she would’ve known she couldn’t tell anyone about it.” Louise paused. “But, of course, your nanaay was a drunk, wasn’t she? Like most of your kin. So she must’ve been drunk when she told you.”

  “At least my daughter wasn’t a thief. The minute I saw the greenstone around Lizzie’s neck, I knew what it was.”

  “But she ran away before you could get your hands on it, didn’t she?”

  Rose’s answer was to clench her lips tightly.

  “Your nanaay also told you the secret to reading the stone, didn’t she?” Louise held the stone in her palm, carved side up. She traced a finger along the intricate lines.

  Rose remained silent.

  “She did. Because you found the box … or ‘treasure’ as you probably call it.”

  At the mention of the word treasure, Sherry started. For a second I thought she was going to rush forward and seize the box, but Ernest held her down firmly.

  “So let’s open this box and see what it contains. But first, I should tell our witnesses the story of this so-called ‘treasure.’” She shifted her position so that she had Eric, Becky, and me in her view.

  “I told you about Old Chief, didn’t I?”

  “You said he was a famous Greenstone chief in the late 1800s,” I replied. Becky nodded in agreement.

  “That’s right. He was our last great chief. Our storytellers say that he used to go on great sea voyages to distant lands and bring back goods he traded otter pelts for. Most of these goods he gave away in potlatches. During his time as chief he held eight potlatches, which is a very high number and emphasizes his importance. But some of these goods he kept, particularly those that glittered.”

  “Like gold,” Two Finger said. Although he was supposed to be guarding Rose and her son, his attention had also turned to the box. He couldn’t keep his eyes off it. “That’s what Nanaay told me.”

  “That’s right. He brought gold back to Llnagaay. Our stories say he also brought back some strange green glittering stones. Some think they might have been emeralds.”

  “Is that what’s in the box?” Two Finger asked.

  “I don’t know. My mother told me that it is Old Chief’s regalia. That’s all.” She paused. “There’s a curious story about this regalia. It was stolen once, a long time ago. And now it’s being stolen again.”

  “I’m not stealing it,” Rose shot back. “I am taking what is rightfully mine … I mean my son’s. It belongs to him as Chief Greenstone.”

  “The most curious thing …” Louise ran her eyes around the circle, stopping at each individual as if ensuring she had our undivided attention. “The most curious thing is that the people who are stealing the regalia today are descendents of the people who stole it from Old Chief more than a hundred and fifty-five years ago.”

  Sixty-Three

  Rose and Harry remained silent.

  “That’s right, isn’t it, Harry?” Louise said. “Your father was a descendent of the Blue Shell Raven chief who helped the Iron Men steal the regalia.”

  “What the …?” Ernest muttered.

  “You and Harry are cousins, aren’t you, Ern? I guess your mother never told you about this blot in your clan history. And here you are stealing the regalia again.” The Matriarch sighed.

  Two Finger slapped his leg and hooted. Johnnie joined him.

  “It’s true what they say about history repeating itself,” Louise continued. “But Ern, at least you aren’t a descendant of the real traitor.” She paused. “Unlike your aunt.”

  Her gaze shifted to Rose. “Not only does your son have the blood of one traitor in his veins, but Harry also has the blood of the other through your line. Your mother was a descendent of the Greenstone traitor, the person who betrayed the clan by revealing the secret hiding place to the Iron Men.”

  “You’re lying!”

  “You know I’m not. Your grandfather was the grandson of the traitor. When your grandmother had a child by him, the clan shunned her. As the oldest daughter, she should’ve become Matriarch when her brother became Chief Greenstone. She tried, but no one would accept her, so my grandmother, her younger sister, became Matriarch.”

  “It’s all lies. Stories your family made up to keep my grandmother from becoming what was rightfully hers. But now I’m Matriarch and things are where they should be.”

  “Not for long.”

  “You no longer have any say in clan affairs. Harry does, and he made me Matriarch.”

  “The clan has the ultimate say and we’ll see what happens after I tell them how your ancestor brought shame to the Greenstones.”

  “It’ll be your word against mine.”

  “Ah, but I have proof.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’ll show you when we open this.” Louise tapped the ancient bentwood box with her knuckle. “After the regalia were stolen, Old Chief’s Matriarch found an item belonging to the traitor on the floor of the burial house where the regalia had been hidden and where the traitor had no right to be. To ensure we never forgot who brought shame to the Greenstones, she placed it with the regalia inside this box.” She tapped it again, this time harder. It gave off a dull thud that told us the box contained something.

  “There’s another reason why you can’t be Matriarch.” She brought Allistair’s bentwood box onto her lap. “Do you know what’s inside this, Rose?”

  Rose gave a dismissive shrug and started fiddling with her gold bracelet.

  “It’s considerably newer than the box you dragged out of the cave. It comes from Vancouver. Does Vancouver mean anything to you, Rose?”

  Rose stopped fiddling.

  “You went there recently to visit Harry, didn’t you?”

  Eric and Becky tensed, as did I.

  “So…? I go to Vancouver often like a lot of people on Haida Gwaii. You were there not long ago yourself.”

  “On this last trip you left something behind.”

  Louise reached inside her blanket to a pocket in her sweater and pulled out an object that glimmered in the light. This she dangled over Allistair’s ashes. It was a silver earring in the shape of a salmon.

  “Look familiar?”

  Rose reached for her ear, then, as if realizing what she was doing, dropped her hand b
ack down into her lap. “It could belong to anyone. It’s a common enough design.”

  Her son’s eyes were fixed on the earring.

  “It’s very old. The silver looks to be made from silver coins. Not many of these left from the old days. You like to brag about the silver salmon earring that’s been in your family for a very long time. Funny, I haven’t seen you wearing it since you came back from Vancouver.”

  “So what? I lost it.”

  “You’re probably wondering how it came into my possession. Two Finger found it.” She looked at her nephew, who nodded grimly.

  While Rose tried to act as if she didn’t care, a nervous twitch in her right eye suggested otherwise.

  “By the way, this is my grandson.” Louise caressed the smooth, painted top of the box.

  Rose’s eyes locked onto it. Harry’s eyes locked onto his mother.

  She watched the two closely for a few seconds before continuing, “I didn’t know I had a grandson until Eric and Meg showed me a bracelet that was passed down to him from his mother, my daughter.” She pulled up her sleeve to reveal the familiar band of etched silver looped around her wrist.

  Ernest started at the sight of the bracelet. “Are you saying you’re Allistair’s grandmother?”

  “I am.”

  “Fuck, I should’ve known.” He ran a hand through his thick salt and pepper hair. “She said her name was Mary, but I knew it was a lie.”

  “You knew her in Vancouver?” It was Louise’s turn to be surprised.

  “Yup, even loved her in my drunken haze.”

  “Could you be Allistair’s father?”

  “Yup. When the kid walked into my studio I recognized the bracelet right away. Mary wore it all the time. When I saw that greenstone pendant, I knew for sure. I could see he was searching for his roots, so I took him on as a carving apprentice.” He sighed. “I never told him I was his father.”

  What would Cloë’s reaction be when she discovered that the man she hated, the man she accused of being responsible for her son’s death, was his real father? I glanced at the forest behind us, wondering if she was hiding close by, listening.

  Louise remained silent while the trees began moaning with the rising wind almost as if they were sympathizing with the tragedy unfolding beneath them.

  Harry, obviously startled by this news, leaned forward as if hanging on every word. His mother, on the other hand, leaned back in indifference as if it was of little importance. The nervous twitch in her right eye increased.

  At last, Louise roused herself and said in a subdued voice, “Now we come to my grandson’s, your son’s untimely death.”

  At this point, Rose struggled to raise herself from the ground. “We’ve heard enough,” she rasped. “I’m sorry to learn of your grandson, Louise … if he really was your grandson. But it has nothing to do with us. Come on, Harry, grab the box and let’s be on our way.”

  She lumbered toward the path that led to the gap in the wall. Although Harry stood up, he didn’t follow his mother. Sherry had no qualms. She scooped up the ancient box and sprinted after the woman, which made me wonder about the real reason for her presence. I was beginning to think it had nothing to do with finding her lover’s killer.

  Ernest didn’t stir from his seat on the ground. When Rose stood up, both Johnnie and Two Finger jumped to their feet, firmly gripping their rifles. But they didn’t go after the two women. They waited, as if seeking direction from their aunt.

  “Rose,” Louise called out. “Don’t you want to know where Two Finger found your earring?”

  “Nope.” Rose continued walking.

  “It was found where it shouldn’t have been, just like the trinket your ancestor left behind. Once again, history repeats itself.”

  Louise nodded in Two Finger’s direction. He pointed his rifle at the retreating women, but fired into the forest canopy above their heads.

  Sherry screamed and dropped the box. “Okay, okay, don’t shoot me. It’s yours.”

  Rose kept on walking and was soon lost from view amongst the trees.

  “Rose, you won’t get away with it,” Louise shouted. “I know you killed the boy. Two Finger saw you.”

  Another blast from a rifle was followed by a howl. But neither Johnnie nor Two Finger had fired a shot.

  “You killed my son. You deserve to die!” shrieked Cloë.

  Sixty-Four

  Eric and I ran. We found Rose sprawled on the ground against a tree, moaning and clutching her ankle, her face screwed up with pain. Cloë stood over her, aiming the rifle at her head. Although my sister-in-law’s hands shook, there was no doubting the determination on her face.

  “You don’t have the nerve,” Rose sneered. “I dare you to kill me.”

  “Cloë, think carefully about this, please,” I said, terrified she’d pull the trigger again and actually kill the woman.

  Eric slipped silently through the trees and came up behind her. He kept his rifle pointed at her. The look of outrage and shock on his face told me he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot his sister if she dared fire again.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  “The police will be here soon. Please put the gun down,” I pleaded.

  She continued to aim the rifle at Rose.

  “You won’t achieve anything by killing her, other than putting yourself in jail for the rest of your life.”

  “Dear God,” muttered Louise, as she limped up beside me, supported by Becky. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “Please, Cloë, give me the gun,” Eric said. “This isn’t you, not the sister I love. Where’s my big sister, who once stopped her brother from shooting a rabbit because she couldn’t bear to see it hurt.” He lowered his rifle and held out his hand. He stepped closer. “Where’s the sister who took a lost little boy into her heart and made him part of her family? Where’s the mother who opened her heart to an orphan baby and made him her own. Cloë, please, put down the gun and take my hand.”

  The anger had left him. Thank god.

  Although the tears began to flow, the gun still pointed unwavering at the injured woman. “Please tell me why you killed my son.”

  “Simple, he was in our way. Harry needed to become chief. When I first saw the boy at Ern’s studio a few months ago and recognized the pendant around his neck, I knew it would only be a matter of time before Ern clued into who he really was.”

  “But Allistair was just a boy, with a boy’s dreams. Becoming chief would not have been one of them even if he had known it was possible,” his mother said.

  “Maybe not, but once that woman knew,” Rose glared at Louise. “She would’ve done everything in her power to make him chief.”

  “But being chief is nothing but status,” I said. “That’s hardly a reason to kill someone.”

  “You’re wrong. Being chief gave us access to the treasure. Ernest knew someone who was prepared to pay us more than a half a million dollars for it.”

  François Champagne! That was his real reason for coming to these islands.

  “But you don’t even know what it is,” Louise said.

  “Sure I do. My nanaay talked of a headdress made of gold and emeralds, a one-of-a-kind Haida treasure.”

  “Wait a minute,” I cried out. “Where’s Sherry?” One minute she was standing behind Rose. Now she was gone … and with her the bentwood box.

  “She’s taken the treasure!”

  “Go after her, Johnnie,” Louise ordered.

  Her nephew started after the fleeing woman, just as she disappeared amongst the trees. He, too, quickly vanished. We listened to the pounding of their running until the forest swallowed the sound.

  “I’ll go after them,” Eric said, poised to take off.

  “No, he’ll catch her.”

  At that moment, loud cursing broke out, followed by an abrupt silence.

  A short while later, Johnnie returned, grinning broadly with the box gripped in front of him. Behind him walked Siggy, rubbing the back o
f his head with one hand and pulling the squirming woman with the other.

  Eric quietly removed the rifle from his sister’s hands and held her weeping in his arms.

  “I’ll take my rifle back,” Siggy said, picking it up off the ground. “Gotverdomme, she surprised me. I didn’t hear her until she hit me on the head. Next thing I’m waking up on the ground with my rifle gone and a bump the size of an apple.” He rubbed the back of his head.

  “You’ve got a hard head, Scav. You’ll survive.” Two Finger grinned and slapped his friend on the back.

  “I guess we should see what the fuss is about, eh?” Louise bent over the box. “Gold and emeralds, you say, Rose?” She tried lifting the lid, but it held fast. Johnnie reached down and tried, but without success either.

  “The wood is swollen from too many years in that cave.” Two Finger ran the fingers of his good hand over the carved lid. “Beautiful workmanship, eh? Look at how the cedar was steamed and bent to make a perfectly square box. And look at the pegging.” He pointed to a barely visible line of wooden pegs along the corner where the two ends of the single piece of wood were joined. “You don’t’ see that done much these days. Most artists use glue. It’d sure be a shame to destroy it. Maybe Scav has something back at his place that could ease the lid off.”

  “Okay, let’s take it there.” Louise turned to Rose. “I don’t see any blood, so I assume you’re okay.”

  “I’ve broken my goddamn ankle, that’s what. That stupid woman tried to kill me.”

  “A pity she missed. Harry, help your mother up. Johnnie, you help him.”

  The two men tried to haul the heavy woman to her feet. Defiant, she refused to budge. Louise leaned over and whispered into her ear. Glaring back at her cousin, Rose struggled to pull herself upright. With the help of the two men she eventually made it, but cried out in pain when she placed her injured leg on the ground.

  “A little pain won’t kill you, Rose,” Louise said.

  Rose again glared at her cousin, then threw her arms around the shoulders of the two men standing on either side of her. The threesome crept along the path toward the split in the rock.