by Alan Smale
At the top of the mound, Youtin lifted his head. “The gods have spoken. The people have heard them and have acted. Mapiya has been called to the gods, and is no longer a chief of Cahokia.”
More townsfolk were coming now, drawn by the hubbub, streaming around the base of the Great Mound to either side.
Avenaka spoke. It was the voice of command, Marcellinus realized: the loud and deep baritone, similar to Great Sun Man’s, that the people associated with their leaders. They would listen to what Avenaka had to say, this bastard who had just slain their war chief.
Marcellinus felt sick, the delayed reaction of Great Sun Man’s death now sinking into his soul. He reached for Kimimela, who grabbed him to steady him. Tahtay was looking down at his father’s face. His expression was solemn, and there were no tears in his eyes. The fight had drained out of him, replaced by sorrow and desolation.
Marcellinus forced himself to listen to what Avenaka was saying.
“…south and east of Cahokia, killed the men of our village, and took the women. Our women, fifteen women of the Mizipi, of Cahokia, stolen by filthy Iroqua raiders just yesterday.
“And so we went to the coward Mapiya and demanded that he send out a war party after them. The elders spoke, and the shamans, and his warriors, and even his wife, Huyana, and his lieutenant, Wahchintonka. Mapiya stood firm against us all.”
Avenaka looked around again. Everyone was listening. He nodded and hit his stride. “We demanded our vengeance on the Iroqua. Mapiya refused us. We again demanded that he send war parties after our stolen women. Mapiya became angry, said that it was a lie, that the raids were a trick. He accused us of plots against him. It was wild talk, foolish. Had we killed our own men, abducted our own women? No. But so Mapiya said. Mapiya told us that the Iroqua would not break his secret treaty, the alliance he made using this snake of Roma as his tool. Mapiya said we could not have blood for blood, that he would merely send a runner to the Tadodaho and beg for—”
“You lie,” said Tahtay. “The raiders who took our women were of the Tuscarora, from the east and south, not of the Five Tribes. Our braves saw their Tuscarora tattoos with their eyes and told Great Sun Man of this with their mouths, and these are the truths—”
Avenaka paused, looking down on Tahtay in contempt as the rain poured down his face and off his nose. Now he broke in. “Many of you cannot hear his feeble little voice, but Mapiya’s crippled spawn tells me that I lie, that I am a dog and not a man, and that the raiders of yesterday were some other Iroqua tribe and not the tribes his lying, treacherous father begged for mercy. This is not so. I have spoken, and if my words are not enough, then hear Huyana, his wife, or Matoshka the elder, or Wahchintonka, his first lieutenant, or any of a hundred warriors who were on top of this mound this day, seeing with their eyes and hearing with their ears, and they will tell you the same.”
Tahtay shook his head and knelt. Gently he forced his father’s head back in line with the rest of his body and then straightened his arms and legs, the cloak around his shoulders. Placed his hand on his father’s breast and closed his eyes.
Avenaka nodded in satisfaction. “And so Mapiya ordered his warriors against me. Instead, they stood back. The rest you see before you.”
On the mound top the Wolf Warriors moved aside. In their places the other elders and clan chiefs had arrived. Mute, they gazed down at the scene before them: Avenaka speaking, Great Sun Man dead in Tahtay’s arms, Kimimela and Marcellinus standing close by, the townspeople at the base of the slope.
Avenaka looked up at them, trying to catch each eye in turn.
More movement now as the rest of the First Cahokian walked around the base of the Great Mound from the right, not in marching formation but as a group of men and women, walking with Akecheta at their head. They formed up in three ranks. In a military formation but with few weapons, and those held down by their sides.
Marcellinus understood. They were not preparing for battle. They were honoring the fallen.
Hanska stepped forward from the First and began to climb the mound, head bowed. With her came Enopay.
Avenaka looked up at the assembled elders and clan chiefs again. “Mapiya is dead, and I live. And so I say that I am now war chief of Cahokia.”
And there it was. With a simple declaration, the world had changed. Again.
Marcellinus braced himself. “Over my dead body.”
Avenaka inclined his head, a smile on his lips. “Very well.”
From the top of the mound came Huyana’s voice. Marcellinus had never heard her address a crowd before, but she sounded firm and calm as she said: “Spill no more blood today. There is no cause.”
Avenaka waited, still holding Marcellinus’s eye.
Huyana continued. “I was Mapiya’s wife. But Mapiya stood against the gods and against Cahokia. My brother Avenaka speaks the truth, and now my brother takes Mapiya’s place. It is done. I have spoken.”
The clan chiefs looked at one another, except for Anapetu, who was worriedly trying to catch Marcellinus’s eye. Marcellinus resolutely ignored her. “And so, Avenaka, you will make war on the Iroqua again?”
Avenaka regarded him and spoke to him directly for the first time. “We will send a war party after our stolen women. We will stand ready to avenge ourselves. But first we will clean out the rot in Cahokia, the festering stink that has polluted it.”
Well, the man couldn’t possibly have been any clearer than that.
With Great Sun Man dead, Marcellinus was as good as dead, too. He held no power in Cahokia anymore, had been spared in the first place only through Great Sun Man’s protection. Now, with a war chief in power who hated him, Marcellinus knew his prospects were bleak indeed.
Marcellinus raised his gladius.
Tahtay caught the movement and quickly got to his feet. Kimimela raised a hand as if to seize Marcellinus’s arm but realized the foolishness of impeding him and instead stepped aside.
Behind Avenaka, Wahchintonka and Matoshka were walking down the slope toward them.
And beside Marcellinus appeared Hanska and Enopay.
“Get away,” Marcellinus said. “No need for you to—”
“Shut up,” Hanska said quietly. “Do not do this. Sir.”
“I offer you mercy, Roman,” Avenaka said. “But I offer it only once. Refuse it and you are a dead man.” He turned his head. “And you, son of Mapiya, the same. Only once.”
Avenaka raised his voice. “You there below, who call yourselves the First Cahokian and use Roman weapons and take orders from this man: I offer you mercy, but only once. Brave warriors of Cahokia, if you will be a friend to Avenaka and an enemy to the Iroqua, join me now. Swear allegiance to Avenaka and be welcome. Refuse and you are banished, never to return to the Great City or any town or village that bears fealty to Cahokia.”
Avenaka half smiled. “Even you, Mapiya’s crippled spawn, and you, Roman. Swear allegiance to—”
“Never,” said Marcellinus.
“Avenaka will die,” Tahtay said venomously. “And all who serve him. Heads smashed. Scalps taken. Throats slit. Bodies burned in the fire. I am Tahtay, I am the son of Great Sun Man, and I have spoken.”
Avenaka glowered at him. “Then you are banished, Tahtay, gone from the Great City as if you had never lived. And you, Wanageeska, who betrayed us: you also are banished, and you will go today and never return to Cahokia, on pain of death. And do not think to go to Ocatan or any other Mizipian town or village nearby. Those, too, you shall not enter.
“You others, brave warriors of Cahokia, swear allegiance to me and be welcome.”
“Eat your own shit,” said Hanska.
Avenaka stared at her in disbelief.
“I go with the Wanageeska. Someone has to keep him alive.”
“Hanska…”
“Not just me,” she said.
She gestured down to where the First Cahokian Cohort was dividing into two groups. Most were already turning and walking back into Cahokia. Marcellinu
s saw Takoda among them, along with many other family men. The second group, by far the smaller, was marshaling under Akecheta. He saw Yahto, Napayshni, and—to his surprise—Chumanee.
Marcellinus blinked. “They can’t do that. They can’t give up their homes, their—”
“That is for them to choose. Come. Tahtay, you, too.”
Tahtay shook his head, his gaze still fixed on Avenaka.
“Tahtay…” Wahchintonka looked at Avenaka and back to the boy. “We will take the body of Great Sun Man and lay it in the house of the dead. He will be buried in the Mound of the Chiefs, with honor.” Wahchintonka looked at Avenaka. “Is it not so, war chief?”
Avenaka paused, then conceded. “It is so.”
Marcellinus was counting the men. It was difficult until Akecheta marshaled them back into ranks, and then he knew. Three ranks of twelve. Thirty-six warriors and Chumanee, plus Hanska and Mahkah, who stood beside him. The men and women who were giving up everything for him and for Tahtay, for Akecheta and Mahkah, and for one another.
Marcellinus did the arithmetic again and raised his eyes to look out at the Longhouse of the Ship.
“No,” Avenaka said. “The big canoe belongs to Cahokia. You will walk.”
Marcellinus lifted his gladius. “That longship was built by my people. We will take it.”
Avenaka shook his head. “You are banished, and you will walk. Be grateful I let you take the clothes you wear and the sword in your hand and do not cut you down like a dog.”
Marcellinus looked at the Concordia again. With the drekar they might have a chance. Without it, how far could they possibly get?
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. But when he turned back to face Avenaka, he saw Enopay walking away from him, up the hillside toward Avenaka.
“Let them take it,” Enopay said. “It is a stupid canoe, anyway, and slow. What use is it to Cahokia?”
Avenaka looked at Enopay in surprise and some suspicion as the boy came to stand by his side. “You say so?”
“I say so,” Enopay said. “And of everyone here, I should know. It is another stupid Roman thing we do not need. Let the banished take it. Let us clear every useless Roman thing out of our Great City as the shamans have said. Let us mend Cahokia.”
Enopay put his hand over his satchel and looked up at the new war chief. Avenaka eyed the boy shrewdly. “And you will swear allegiance to me?”
“Of course,” Enopay said. “I serve Cahokia, and now Avenaka is Cahokia.”
“I will kill you, shrimp,” Tahtay said thickly. “I will take your stupid young scalp and wear it on my belt.”
Enopay shook his head. “I do not think so. I think you will leave Cahokia in the big canoe with your pitiful collection of banished friends, and we shall not see you again.”
He met Marcellinus’s eye once and then looked away.
Avenaka looked up at Youtin.
At last the rain was stopping. Youtin smiled and raised his hands. The shaman said nothing, but his meaning was clear: Avenaka ruled, and the gods were happy. Marcellinus resisted the urge to spit.
“Then go,” Avenaka said. “I give you your lives. But go now, immediately, and never return.”
Even now, Marcellinus paused. Backing away and leaving this man to his victory stuck in his craw. Leaving Great Sun Man, fallen in the wet grass.
But there was no sane alternative. They were hopelessly outnumbered. Avenaka’s Wolf Warriors still lined the top of the mound, and most of the First Cahokian had gone. The townsfolk and the men and women of the Wakinyan clan were drifting away in silence.
The day was lost. Marcellinus had to swallow his pride and retreat. Even with that, it would be a miracle if they survived to see another dawn.
“Gaius?” Kimimela looked up at him, close to panic. “What do I do?”
“Go with the Wakinyan clan. They will protect you until Sintikala returns. Stay with them. Be safe.”
“But you and Tahtay…”
Marcellinus closed his eyes briefly. “Stay. Serve Cahokia. Forget us.”
An edge entered her voice. “That is the stupidest thing—”
“Stay with your mother, damn it.” Marcellinus pulled her closer and kissed her on the forehead. “Good-bye, Kimimela.”
And without another word Marcellinus turned his back on the new war chief of Cahokia and hobbled down the mound toward the palisade and the Longhouse of the Ship beyond.
—
“Mahkah, get the shields into the shield racks wherever they’ll fit. Stack the others under the deck. Then get the decking down and in place. You men, put the tools into the chests. Oars into the holes. Clear all the wood away from underfoot—no, Wapi, inside the ship, under the decking; we’re taking it. Then bring the mast aboard and lay it down the center of the hull. Chumanee, are you sure?”
Her eyes were red and her face streaked with tears, but her voice was strong and clear. “Of course. Live under the shamans? No.” She spit.
“Thank you,” he said awkwardly.
“Great Sun Man brought me to Cahokia,” said Chumanee. “He gave me my life. Avenaka…?” Words escaped her. She shook her head and went to help Mahkah with the shields.
Marcellinus took stock. Shit, they had almost nothing. A few swords. Two water jars. No bows or arrows. No food at all. He hoped someone had a flint in his pouch to make a fire.
This was madness.
But the men around him were relying on him. He had to try.
He looked again. Yes, aside from Chumanee they were all men. Hanska was not there. But she had sworn to stay with him, had stood up to Avenaka. Had she changed her mind? Had someone gotten to her? “Juno…”
In the bow of the drekar Tahtay huddled in a blanket, staring into space, still in shock. The woodturners were wide-eyed, the Rope Twins on the edge of panic. The warriors of the First Cahokian were more methodical, with Akecheta and Mahkah helping to direct everyone, getting ready to go. Three dozen warriors plus fifteen craftsmen: just over fifty people in all in a Norse longship designed to be rowed by sixty at a time and crewed by a hundred.
Well, at least they had oars for everyone. And they weren’t under attack. Yet.
Mahkah pointed. “Two more coming.”
A boy and a girl had come around the corner of the palisade and were running toward the boat. For a moment Marcellinus’s heart leaped into his mouth, thinking of Kimimela, but this girl was taller.
“Dustu. Hurit.” Mahkah nodded and went back to stacking shields.
Of course, those two would never abandon Tahtay. They clattered on board, Hurit with a sword and Dustu carrying six spears. Marcellinus wished they’d had the presence of mind to bring food.
Hurit hurried to Tahtay’s side and tried to put her arms around him, but he flinched and fought her off.
“Tahtay?” she said, hurt.
“Go back, idiots!” Tahtay shouted. “There’s no need for us all to die. Go back!” He shoved Hurit again, and she fell onto the pine decking.
“Hey!” Dustu pushed Tahtay back. “Hey, shithead, respect her!”
“Stop!” said Marcellinus. “Now. All of you. Dustu, leave three spears in the front and put the others in the stern. Yes, in the stern, go. Hurit, let Tahtay be until we’re away from here. Get ready to cast off the ropes. Everyone else grab an oar except, uh, you two men; go to the bow and fend off the bank if we get too close. Akecheta, you’ll take the helm.”
They shoved off. Too close to the bank to row, they poled themselves clear with the oars so energetically that they careered across and rammed the bank on the other side. Cahokia Creek was only thirty feet wide. It was a mercy that the creek was high from the spring thaw and that Norse ships had such a shallow draft.
“Gods’ sakes,” Marcellinus said. “All row together. Keep to the center. One…two. Come on, all pull at once when I say. Akecheta, you need to anticipate when you’re steering. The ship doesn’t respond immediately. Think ahead. One…two.”
They
started to get it. Marcellinus spared a glance for the top of the Great Mound and the Wolf Warriors who still watched them. He was absolutely sure that if the crew of the Concordia tried to come ashore again, Avenaka’s warriors would use it as an excuse to attack.
On they went. It was a nerve-racking journey. The way Cahokia Creek twisted and turned, it had to be a full six miles to the river. After they went aground for the second time, Marcellinus sent Hurit into the bow to prod with one of Dustu’s spears and shout back to Akecheta where the deepest part of the channel might be.
Painfully slowly, over the next two hours the longship wound back and forth toward the Mizipi. The rain had stopped, but a cool wind still blew. Everyone was simultaneously sweating and shivering, and Marcellinus had to shout at them constantly to keep them rowing in time. He half expected them to throw down the oars and storm off the longship, but since they were facing backward, they could all see the war parties of Wolf Warriors who watched contemptuously from onshore, axes and spears in their hands. There was no going back now.
They passed the Circle of the Cedars. Now western Cahokia was on the port bow, the part of the city where most of the Wolf Warriors lived. Still no one attacked them. In fact, a celebration seemed to be going on in the West Plaza. In the bow Tahtay put his hands over his ears and buried himself even deeper into his blanket.
Marcellinus knew how Tahtay felt. The death of Great Sun Man still weighed heavily on him.
And he had lost Kimimela. Would never have the chance to say good-bye to Sintikala, who was presumably still far from Cahokia and had no idea what she would fly into when she returned.
Enopay. Hanska. Kanuna. Takoda. Howahkan. Marcellinus was leaving behind almost everyone he knew. Of all his original Cahokian friends, only Tahtay, Akecheta, and Mahkah remained to him. And Tahtay was broken physically and perhaps now in his mind as well.
Up ahead he saw the Mound of the Flowers. Gods, at last they were coming to the Mizipi.
And two more people were heading for them, running. Warriors, and armed…
Hanska and Mikasi. Each carrying six unstrung bows, several quivers of arrows, and a deerskin bag full of swords. And each, thank the gods, clutched a bag of what looked like food, although that surely would not go far with four dozen mouths to feed.