* * *
Ragueneau gave Radisson the bad news first thing the next morning. Although stunned and disappointed, he was also relieved because, try as he might, he had not been able to explain away his fears overnight. That said, he did not have the faintest idea why Ragueneau had had such a change of heart. Ragueneau wasn’t about to tell him and quickly withdrew, visibly overwhelmed. Radisson still had trouble blindly obeying orders.
He helped load the canoes all the same. After a last furious day of labour, the eighteen canoes, loaded until they could carry no more, left the shoreline at last, heading west one by one, the three Iroquois canoes leading the way. The load was so big and the crew numbers so reduced that even the Jesuit priests were paddling. They formed a long trail out on the water, stretching almost as far as the eye could see, pointing like an arrow toward the horizon, making for a splendid, heart-rending spectacle. Radisson couldn’t help but regret he was not part of the trip.
Standing on the shore, Father Ragueneau and he did not utter a word. The habitants come to bid an uneasy farewell to friends and family had gone. Ragueneau and Radisson remained until the last canoe had disappeared behind the spit of land marking the entry to Lac Saint-Pierre.
Slowly, they walked back towards the village, deep in thought. One was thinking of the day when he would leave to convert the Iroquois, the other of when his next chance to explore unknown lands would come along.
“I promise we’ll both go to the Onondaga next summer,” Ragueneau told him before they crossed back through the village palisade. “My place is there, with you.”
“I’ll be only too happy to, Father.”
Chapter 6
Time passes slowly
Radisson admired the colourful forests that stretched into infinity on either side of the beautiful Saint-Maurice river. Short days and cool nights had seized the land, cloaking the leaves in shades of yellow, ochre, and red. The bright autumn light cut through the bracing air.
Radisson was overjoyed to dip his paddle into the clear waters of the river, keeping the brisk pace set by Pierre Godefroy at the back of the canoe. He still did not know why the captain of the militia was in such a rush, or why he had insisted on bringing Radisson with him. Every time he found himself with Godefroy, Radisson felt guilty for bringing about the death of his son François. Since Ragueneau had ordered him to go hunting with him, he had no choice but to get over the uneasiness he felt. But given the speed they were travelling at, Radisson was sure they were not going hunting. “We have to go up the Saint-Maurice” was all the captain had told him.
At day’s end, Godefroy steered the canoe into a small sandy cove, where they prepared to spend the night. Their makeshift shelter would be a comfortable one. The bed of balsam boughs was covered in beaver pelts. The fire was burning nicely.
“I’ve been keeping a close eye on you since you came back,” Godefroy told him after the meal. “You’ve changed a lot in three years. You’ve become a man.”
His mind put at ease by these words, Radisson was waiting all the same for some harsh remarks about his son’s death.
“I’ve seen a lot of expeditions leave Trois-Rivières, but none as big as the one you prepared for the Jesuits. Nice work!”
“I did what I could. Father Ragueneau was pleased.”
Pierre Godefroy threw another two dead branches onto the fire with hands as broad as paddles. He positioned them carefully, without saying a word. The lively flames lit up a face creased by deep wrinkles. He had untied his long brown hair, which now fell down over his shoulders.
“I’ve seen a lot of men die, too,” added Godefroy.
Radisson stared at the fire to avoid his gaze, sure that he was going to be chided for being so irresponsible.
“Men I loved… Marguerite probably told you about last summer’s massacre. I was wounded when the commander ordered them outside to counterattack the Iroquois. Many of us knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but the commander was too young, too arrogant. He’d just arrived from France. He got Claude Volant to hold the fort with me. There were thirty of us inside with Boucher, the only one who’d refused to go. The twenty-one who left with the commander were killed in an ambush. Not one man came back. I’m lucky to still be alive today.”
Radisson felt a pang of sadness as he listened.
“I lost two sons, both to the Iroquois. François was with you when they surprised you. He’s dead and you’re alive. One day you can tell me what happened. But you need to be made of strong stuff to live with the Iroquois for two years and come through it. I admire you for that. You must’ve impressed them.”
Radisson couldn’t believe it. He had expected to be blamed, accused, lambasted for causing François’ death. And quite rightly so, in his book. That day he had acted like the French commander who thought he knew better than the experienced men of Trois-Rivières, better than the Iroquois.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” Godefroy went on. “For us in the village it’s like you’ve come back from the dead. Everyone thought you were a goner. It gives us all hope. It shows that God hasn’t completely turned his back on us yet…”
Radisson was so stunned he didn’t say a word.
“I’m not like the Jesuits, you know. I don’t see everything as being black or white. You must have done a thing or two wrong for my son to end up dead. But what point is there holding it against you? It won’t bring my François back. The Iroquois killed him, not you. And, even them, despite all they’ve done to us… I must admit they have some good customs.”
Radisson was struck by the captain’s strength as he forgave him and didn’t condemn all the Iroquois as a whole, just like he had learned to by living among them and seeing their good side. He had not expected such wise words, such kindness, from him. Perhaps this man might understand why he had become an Iroquois for a time.
“The custom they have of adopting prisoners, for instance. That’s a good one. It’s generous of them to sometimes spare their lives. That’s what happened to you, from what I’ve heard.”
“They did adopt me. That’s true.”
Only the crackling of the fire and the rustling of the leaves disturbed the night. Godefroy didn’t speak again for a while.
“I’d like to do what they do. If you agree, I’d like to adopt you as my son. You’ll replace François, in part. It will make up for it. I’m proud of you. Do you understand?”
Radisson couldn’t manage a reply.
“I’m not bitter. There’s no point. It’s best we are reconciled. I know you’re as sorry he’s dead as I am. We’ll be able to get through it together. Because our troubles are not over. If you ask me, this peace with the Iroquois won’t last long. Just like I told Father Ragueneau before I brought you up here with me, we need to stand together or else we’re lost. I need you. The whole village needs you. And I can help you. That’s why I want you to become my son.”
Indescribable joy swept away Radisson’s fears and remorse, just like when his Iroquois family had saved his life. He was never going to turn down the chance to become the adopted son of one of the most respected men in Trois-Rivières.
“I’d be only too happy to!”
* * *
The pace set by Godefroy still gave Radisson the impression of urgency. He didn’t know why, but he trusted the captain—his new father—well enough to follow him without question. It had been a long time since he had felt so happy. Radisson paddled hard, never once complaining that they ate only at sunrise and sunset, that they never stopped. It was like being on a war expedition with the Iroquois. He was cut from the same cloth as the captain.
On the second night, as they ate, Godefroy opened up some more.
“The Jesuits haven’t told you the whole story, you know. They haven’t told you the peace is limited.”
Radisson was surprised to hear what Godefroy was implying.
“When Father Le Moyne came back from among the Onondaga last fall, he confirmed they really wanted peace, even t
hough no one believed them. But the story doesn’t end there. The Iroquois wanted something in return. In order for other missionaries to go to their lands, they demanded all our former allies be excluded from the peace. I’m sure Ragueneau never told you that.”
“No,” Radisson confirmed, still unaware of the implications. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“The Jesuits aren’t exactly telling anyone who will listen that they’ve become the Iroquois’ lackeys. The peace is only for the French. The Algonquins, Hurons, Amikouès, Montagnais, and Etchemins, all our allies, are still at war with the Iroquois, who are attacking them while we stand back and watch. It’s almost as if they’re trying to provoke us! The Jesuits agreed too quickly. They wanted to get in the Iroquois’ good books, or have a grand old time leaving on a mission to Iroquois country, but didn’t stop to consider the consequences. Many of us think they were wrong. Now our allies feel betrayed. They’re angry at us.”
Now Radisson understood the situation better, even though he wasn’t sure he shared the experienced captain’s opinion. The fur trade the Jesuits were trying to get back on its feet with the Iroquois was important too.
“The colony is weak. Things have gotten worse since you left. It’s a certainty that if the Iroquois had kept on attacking us, we’d have had to go back to France. We were at breaking point. That’s why the Jesuits gave in right away. But it was the time to resist, negotiate hard, stand up tall! Now the Iroquois know we’re at their mercy. You know why they offered us peace?”
Radisson shrugged his shoulders.
“And you spent time with them. Perhaps you have a better idea than we do.”
Radisson thought back to all he had seen and heard when he lived with the Mohawks.
“I know the war killed a lot on their side, too. That was a worry for them. My adoptive mother and other people she admired in the village didn’t think things could go on like that. She was hoping for peace.”
Radisson didn’t want to say any more. The Iroquois were divided on the matter and there were bound to be lots of reasons, both for and against, that were unknown to him.
“It’s true things can’t go on like this,” Godefroy continued. “Did you see how much this big expedition cost? Why go running headlong into a project like that when the colony is still lacking everything? It’s risky—the Jesuits themselves admit it. It makes no sense at all. There are so many more pressing things to do first before we start sending missions to the Iroquois!”
Godefroy was clearly one of those opposed to the mission. Until now, the Jesuit point of view had seemed the stronger, more constructive argument in Radisson’s eyes. But he hadn’t known that many old alliances had been sacrificed to get to this point. Now he wondered which side was in the right.
“Ever since the Jesuits decided to start a new mission that was just as big as the one they lost among the Hurons, but in ten times less time, they’ve raised a lot of hackles. They’re hiding things from us. Even from me, and I’m in charge of keeping everyone safe. They won’t follow my advice any more, or the advice of the experienced people who have always supported them. They just do as they please. Damned Jesuits!”
Godefroy stopped talking before his anger got the better of him. Radisson felt as though he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had been sure he was acting for the good of the colony by supporting Ragueneau. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Can I trust you?” Godefroy asked him.
“Of course you can.”
His new adoptive father stared hard at him, weighing his maturity more than his sincerity.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “There are more than a few of us in Trois-Rivières who think the Jesuits are making a mistake. Our allies had to flee far to the west to get away from the Iroquois, in part because we left them defenceless. We left them without firearms when they asked us for them. I’m with Médard Chouart, who’s trying to find them. If these Indians abandon us, the Iroquois will wipe us out like they did the Hurons, Neutrals, and Erie.”
Radisson felt a twinge of regret as he recalled the victories he had taken part in over the Erie, who had defended themselves without iron or muskets. Many Iroquois from his village had wanted to go back and fight them to cover themselves in glory.
“You know the Iroquois well enough to know how strong they are. They offered us peace from one day to the next. But they might turn against us just as quickly. They’re the ones who decide. Not us. That’s why we need to keep up our old alliances. But the Jesuits and the governor don’t understand.”
Godefroy was not wrong. Radisson himself had chosen not to stay among the Iroquois to escape with his life. But what could he do now that he had given his word to serve the Jesuits?”
“Tomorrow we meet the Algonquins who came to trade furs last week in Trois-Rivières. I have arranged to meet with them in secret. They live far to the north now. They are distrustful of us. As you saw for yourself, there are only fifteen or so left near the village. There used to be a hundred. My mission is to rekindle the alliance with them, even though the Jesuits are against it. I ask that you don’t breathe a word to Ragueneau. I need your word on that.”
Radisson hated being put in this situation. Did he really have to take sides? Was there not a way he could stay loyal to both at once?
“I brought you with me so that you can see what’s really going on,” Godefroy added, seeing Radisson’s discomfort. The Jesuits are pulling the wool over your eyes. They haven’t been honest with you. If we are to help the colony, everyone needs to be involved in the decisions. The Jesuits failed with the Hurons and they’re probably going to fail with the Iroquois because they’re not learning from their mistakes. There are a few of us in Trois-Rivières, Québec, and Montréal who think we need to be doing things differently. You’ll soon see just how unhappy the Algonquins are. But I’m going to try to salvage our alliance with them. I need your word that you’ll keep it a secret.”
“I agree. I won’t say a word. I promise.”
* * *
Seven Algonquins were waiting patiently for Pierre Godefroy at the foot of an enormous waterfall. They had a great deal of respect for the captain from Trois-Rivières who had always been close to their nation. Together, they had signed a number of agreements to the benefit of both the French and the Algonquins. They had fought side by side. The previous summer, Godefroy’s eldest son had gone hunting with one of their bands when the Iroquois had attacked without warning. They had fought and died together, brave and standing together right to the end. But the Algonquins they were meeting with were angry. They had gone to Trois-Rivières for powder and muskets and the French had turned them away, not wanting to displease the Iroquois.
The first thing Godefroy did was offer them a small barrel of powder. To thank him, the band chief Penikawa gave him the leather headband he had been wearing around his forehead. Then they climbed the path to the top of the waterfall, put their canoes back in the water, and went back up the river at great speed. Radisson had trouble keeping up with the men who had learned to paddle at the same time they learned to walk. It took four days to reach the Algonquin camp, where three huge drainage basins met at the source of the Saint-Maurice.
Surprised to see two Frenchmen arrive among them, the camp’s residents gave them a cold welcome. Penikawa had to go around each teepee, reminding everyone that the French captain’s eldest son had died fighting by their side. Godefroy took the chance to hand out small gifts to each family: a handful of metal needles, glass pearls, iron scrapers. Radisson watched the captain closely, noting how he established a rapport with them.
“With the Indians, you have to give in order to receive,” Godefroy explained. “That’s their custom. I wish I could have given them more, but I had to be careful Ragueneau wouldn’t suspect something was up.”
Megiscawan, the camp’s most respected chief, knew Godefroy well from having lived a long time near the fort in Trois-Rivières. He had even taken part in the talks when the I
roquois had spoken of peace for the first time over a year ago. All the French allies had been included then. Megiscawan said he was happy to see his friend again, but appalled at the French U-turn. He nonetheless agreed to listen to what Godefroy had come to tell him.
The next day, in the large teepee reserved for ceremonies, Godefroy unpacked a long-barrelled musket, which he gave to Megiscawan. He set it down before the four chiefs on a red blanket spread out on the ground and added a nice-looking eagle feather. Then he sat on the ground next to Radisson, opposite the Algonquins. Megiscawan filled his pipe deliberately with herbs and tobacco so they could smoke together before talking, in order that their words would travel far and be heard clearly.
Radisson hadn’t been in an Indian camp for a long time. It reminded him of how he used to live as an Iroquois. He wasn’t afraid. His only handicap was not being able to speak Algonquin well.
The four chiefs were dressed all in leather for the occasion and wore their ceremonial finery: porcupine quill wristbands, leather headbands decorated with drawings of animals and shapes, and furs. Radisson wanted to know what it meant.
The pipe was passed around in a circle. The smoke escaped skyward through a hole in the top of the teepee. Once Megiscawan had set the pipe down on the ground, Godefroy was able to speak, eloquently, in Algonquin.
“Megiscawan and Penikawa know me well. They know I speak with my heart. I offer you these gifts because the Algonquins have been my friends ever since I arrived in your land. The eagle feather signifies that we must rise above the quarrels that divide us. The musket signifies that the French have not abandoned you. Many among us want to help you defeat the Iroquois. I know that the attitude of the grand chief of the Frenchmen—our governor—and the Jesuits disappoints you. I have come to reassure you of our intentions and to listen to you. Speak to me frankly, Megiscawan.”
The Adventures of Radisson. Back to the New World Page 11