In the meantime, the Director had to concentrate on updating the museum’s growing catalogue. Each specimen brought in from the field had to first be numbered and classified in relation to its specific geographical region of origin. Once that was accomplished, a second number was given based on its specific use category. The result was a systematic catalogue of artifacts.
That morning he was focusing his attention on the most recent additions to the collection, a vast array of specimens collected by Bell north of Sudbury Ontario while he was on a short expedition to examine a potentially large mineral ore deposit. Of particular interest was a collection of artifacts Bell almost collected from an Ojibwa man around the Sturgeon River, who claimed to be a shaman of the highest degree within the secret Midewiwin society.
According to Bell’s field notes, the man had offered to sell his medicine kit. This included a most extraordinary beaded bag of what appeared to be the complete skin of an otter, the contents of the bag, and a beautiful pipe carved in the effigy of an eagle, that transformed into a wolf when looked at from a certain angle.
In his field notes, Bell recounted that he had tried to talk the man down to fifty dollars, but the man was stubbornly set at a price of five hundred dollars for the artifacts. After a close inspection of the items, Bell concluded that the artifacts were not only of a fine vintage, but that they were substantially unique to warrant spending his complete field allowance, knowing of course that he was contributing to the better good of Canadian society by preserving these Indian specimens in the museum for all to see and admire.
Bell’s notes ultimately conveyed a sense of loss. Unfortunately, he only had one hundred dollars left, the cost of a train ticket and hiring an Indian guide had been more than expected, so he had to reluctantly refuse the shaman’s offer.
That is unfortunate. I’m sure one of George Heye’s men will end up purchasing the lot and our cultural heritage will end up in some American museum. I should consider sending the men into the field with a higher allowance for salvaging material for the museum. Although five hundred dollars is pretty steep. Bell probably could have talked him down to two hundred and fifty. The Indians are always inflating the prices for their stuff. They should be happy that we’re offering them anything.
Just as Selwyn placed Bell’s field notes on the table there was a knock at his door.
“What is it Florence, can’t you see I’m very busy at the moment.”
Florence was Selwyn’s secretary. A nice Irish girl, whose family had survived the embittered Shiner’s war that raged through Ottawa during the early 1860s. What Selwyn really liked about Florence was, for an uneducated lumberjack’s daughter, her ability to take down his dictations and then translate the shorthand into beautifully eloquent letters never ceased to amaze. Although her constant questions and interruptions proved to be a petty annoyance.
“Sorry Sir, but there is a rather animated gentleman requesting to see you right away. He says it is very important and will not leave until he discusses a most important matter with you in person. I think he is an Indian, but am not quite sure.”
“An Indian?” Selwyn thought out loud, puzzled. It was rare that an Indian came into the survey and asked specifically for an audience with him.
“Yes Sir, I think so. But cannot be sure entirely.”
“Well did he introduce himself? Did he say he was an Indian?”
“No Sir. It’s purely my own conjecture that he may be an Indian. You know, I see them come by from time to time on the odd Saturdays when I am working and the Museum is open to the public. Their long dark hair and dark skin always stands out from the pale mothers with their equally pale kids who come to listen to yours and Dr. Bell’s lectures. But what always gives the Indians away from the common folk is the smell of campfire Sir. They always have this strong smell of campfire Sir, like they been out all night boiling down maple syrup or something.”
“Did this gentleman smell like campfire?”
“I didn’t really get a chance to have a good smell Sir. But he and his friend do wear their hair like Indians, pulled back like a woman, you know.”
“I thought you said he was alone.”
“Sorry Sir, I forgot to mention that the older gentleman requesting the meeting was accompanied by a younger gentleman.”
“Inform the two men that I will be with them shortly.”
“Should I bring tea and biscuits?”
“That will be fine. Thank-you Florence.”
As he made his way out of his office and down the steep stone staircase to the lower floor, Selwyn could make out the faint smell of tobacco smoke and the quite voices of the two men, speaking in a soft language he was unfamiliar with.
Rounding the corner towards the two voices, Selwyn caught a glimpse of the men, dressed in what appeared to be finely tailored black suits and crisp, starched white shirts, their long hair pulled back into two thin braids, streaming behind their backs. The sun-light shining in from the window reflected off the older man’s silver hair, temporally catching Selwyn’s eye, like a Crow hunting for a special treasure to add to his collection of shiny trinkets, discarded and misplaced in bushes and beneath blades of grass.
Catching Selwyn’s gaze, the older man continued to pull off of his pipe, blowing small puffs of smoke up into the air, waiting for the Director to formally introduce himself.
“Good-day Gentlemen.” Selwyn extended his hand enthusiastically to the older gentlemen, who continued to smoke his pipe, disregarding the offer of a handshake.
Unfazed, Selwyn withdrew his hand slowly, noting that the two men were both wearing beautifully beaded moccasins, of a design he was vaguely familiar yet could not place.
“My name is Arthur Selwyn, I am the Director of the Geological Survey, which includes maintaining the operations of the small, but growing, museum. How may I be of assistance to you today?”
After carefully considering Selwyn’s words, the older man spoke, exhaling a large puff of aromatic smoke into the air.
“We have something very special that needs to be kept safe.”
“I beg your pardon Sir?”
As if on cue, the younger gentleman interceded, extending his hand out to Selwyn in greeting.
“Dr. Selwyn, we very much appreciate you taking the time from your busy schedule to me with us today. We have come a long distance from Montreal and are tired.”
His slight British accent intrigued Selwyn. He had never met an Indian who spoke English so well and with such an accent.
“It is a long trip from Montreal, I know it very well. You must be weary indeed, although I hear the train ride is much better since Mr. Booth introduced the better service from Montreal to Ottawa.”
Smiling, the younger man glanced over at his companion.
“We took alternate means to get here. But maybe someday we will get an opportunity to take the train, when we’re not in such a hurry.”
“Regardless, you must be travel weary. My assistant Florence should be here shortly with some tea.”
At that moment Florence appeared, with a heavily laden silver tea service. When Florence left, the three men settled back into their chairs with their tea. The younger man, more at ease, introduced himself and his companion.
“My name is George Miskwaadesi and this is my Grandfather, Iyash Miskwaadesi. We have come from a great distance to protect something very special for us.” George held a beaded otter skin in front of him. “We would like to deposit this medicine bag here at your museum. Inside the bag you will find a pipe carved in the effigy of an eagle that transforms into a wolf when looked at from a certain angle. There is also some special medicine inside the bag that is very sacred to us.”
George passed the bag to Selwyn.
“I do of course want to help in any capacity that I may. However, I cannot guarantee anything. The Museum does not make it a policy to return objects it has acquired for preservation. Of course, any donation is greatly appreciated.” Selwyn examined the bag mor
e carefully and handed it back to Iyash. “This looks like a very fine specimen and I can say we would be very happy to have it our collection. In fact I was just reading the trip report from one of my field officers and he almost purchased a bag exactly like this up by Sturgeon Falls.”
Taking a slow drag from his pipe, Iyash, replied, “It’s a very special bag, very old, older than you or I. It was passed on to me from my grandfather, who received it from his grandfather. All we ask is that you protect the bag and its contents so when we need it, it will be here.”
“Our storage facilities are top notch. Only authorized members of the survey are allowed access to the collections. I can assure you that your bag and its contents will be safe here.”
“These items were recently taken from my grandfather. The man who stole them tried to sell them without our permission to one of your men,” George added.
“I can assure you gentlemen, that my men take every precaution when they are in the field to purchase items for the museum. We maintain the highest integrity here at the survey and my men are trained to purchase items from honest sources that are of the highest quality. Every item we have here in the museum is tagged and precisely catalogued, including the history of the purchase transaction.”
“Luckily my grandfather was able to track the items down before any more harm could be done.”
“Gentleman, I don’t understand why you would want to deposit these items here if you just recovered them,” asked Selwyn. “Why don’t you just keep them amongst your personal affects?”
“We realized that our sacred objects are no longer safe in our hands. Government officials are systematically working to destroy our culture and beliefs. Their Indian Act has made our ceremonies illegal. Their agents are taking our children into those residential schools, cutting their hair and teaching them that out culture and traditions are no good and backwards,” replied Iyash. “There will come a time when all this will change. When we need to heal our people and work together to heal this planet. That is why we are bringing this medicine here to you today. To keep it safe until that time comes.” Iyash handed Selwyn the beaded bag.
“I am most honored.” Selwyn took the bag. “I can assure you it will be safe here for a long time. And I will make a note on the collector’s file that these objects were deposited by you for safe keeping.”
As quietly as they arrived, the two men left the old Clarendon Hotel at 547 Sussex Street. Selwyn was most intrigued by the transaction. In all his years with the survey, he couldn’t remember Indians ever depositing objects at the museum. Usually, they had to be convinced to either sell or make replicas of objects with such significant ethnological value. And many objects were one of a kind.
This certainly is a surprise. Bell will be exceptionally elated that these objects found their own way to the museum. His assessment was correct. The museum has just acquired a very valuable ethnological specimen and the country can rest assured that this survey is doing everything it can to stymie the efforts of those American collectors why want to steal our national heritage.
Selwyn brought the beaded otter bag back to his office. He could feel that there was something inside the bag but, for some reason, could not figure out how to open it. This was the first Midewiwin bag he had ever seen and it certainly was a most excellent addition to the museums growing collection of Indian artifacts.
After turning, rotating, and staring intently at the bag trying to figure out how to open it, he noticed a small latch of bone and porcupine quill, hidden so expertly underneath the otter’s neck. Sliding the bone and quill out of a small groove in the otter’s skin, the Otter’s head moved, revealing a deep cavity in its neck and providing access to the contents of the bag which were comfortably housed in what once was the animal’s guts. Just as he placed his hand inside the bag, there was a knock at his office door, startling him off his chair.
Chapter 5
Will was on his first round of the morning. When the employment agency called him last month to tell him that they had a job for him at the museum as a security guard he felt like he had finally won the lottery.
I don’t know what I was going to do. Will thought to himself as he started his rounds. I never expected to be laid off from that high-tech job. The timing couldn’t’ have been worse, with the new addition to the family and Jess being on maternity leave. Those bastards didn’t even giving me a severance. If I had the money I’d hire a lawyer and stick it to those corporate assholes. Siphoning millions of dollars from workers like me to pay for their movie star lifestyle. They should all be thrown in jail and left there to rot like the criminals they are.
When Will was first laid off he had started drinking pretty heavily. It was the only way he knew how to deal with his emotions. It’s what his father did all those years, drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.
Knowing his family history, Jess had become really concerned. The night before the employment agency called to offer him the job at the Museum, Jess strongly suggested he go and get some counseling.
“Honey, I really think you need to stop drinking so much.” Jess was a sweet woman and Will loved her so much. “We need you here, sober, to help around the house and to be a good father. You don’t want our kids to grow up without a father do you?”
Will still remembered that night. He had been drinking steady since three in the afternoon. When Jess first raised the subject it pissed him off.
“Don’t tell me how I should be raising the kids,” he slurred. “You know just as well as me that I’m a good father. A damn good father. What’re a few drinks once in a while to help with the stress?”
“If it was only a beer or two instead of a whole bottle of whiskey, it would be different.” Jess put her arm around Will. “You come from a family of alcoholics. It’s a slippery slope and you’re struggling. I know you the best of anyone.”
Will shrugged Jess’ arm off his shoulder.
“I don’t need your pity.” He could feel the tears inside of him wanting to come out but somehow the alcohol made it almost impossible for them to flow freely.
“And I don’t need a drunk husband, who neglects his wife and children.” Jess put her hand on Will’s knee. “You need to clean yourself up Will. I know being laid off has been really hard. You want to provide for us and you can’t. But you’re never going to be able to if you keep drinking your life away.”
Will remembered agreeing to phone a counselor first thing in the morning to schedule an appointment. Deep in his heart he knew Jess was right. But there was a little boy inside of him that was really scared- that the counselor may confirm that he had the potential to be as drunk and violent as his father was.
The excitement of getting the job as a security man at the museum however, made them both forget Will’s promise to call a counselor.
“You may want to check the collections room first Will. The sensors are picking up some unusual activity. Probably nothing or maybe it’s the ghosts.”
Tom, Will’s new supervisor at the museum liked to joke about the ghosts in the collections room.
“You know they say that some of those Indian artifacts come to life when nobody is around. These old Indian guys are coming into the museum all the time to feed the spirits. Kind of spooky if you ask me, spookier than all those skeletons up in the Archaeology collections. At least with the skeletons you know they’re dead.”
“I don’t believe in all that mumbo jumbo.” Will laughed. “I’ll go check it out right away and call it in as soon as I get there.”
After a month of working at the museum, Will was still amazed at the security installation. The bio-metrics took a while to get used to and sometimes slowed things down a bit, but they sure made the building secure.
He took the fastest way to the collections through the ground floor tunnel and up the freight elevator. He only had to stop twice to scan his thumb and swipe his pass. The workers in the tunnel were busy unloading the collections fo
r the traveling exhibit Eternal Tombs. A quick look suggested it had something to do with ancient Egyptian funeral rites.
Have to remember that one. Jess and the Kids would probably enjoy seeing the mummies. Will liked the perk of getting free passes to the exhibits at the museum. Makes working here that much more enjoyable.
The freight elevator stopped and clanked open. Will got out and walked down the corridor towards the collection room, adjusting his security belt to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything back in the security office.
He adjusted the volume down on his radio and pulled his Maglite out the belt. The lighting in the collections room was always so dim. Tom explained to him it had something to due with the lux factor and the conservation of the objects.
Whatever all that means. As long as I have a flashlight I’m fine. These Maglite’s are also good for knocking out small rodents or other such pests. I wonder if I should charge my tazer, just to be on the safe side.
Will still wasn’t that comfortable carrying the high voltage stun gun. Tom assured him it was safe, but these things had been seriously injuring people lately.
I might as well charge it. Doesn’t mean I have to use it. But then if I do need it, at least it’s ready.
Will could feel the gentle hum of the tazer as it started charging up.
“I’m at the collections, going in to check.” Will radioed in to the main office.
“10-4,” Tom’s voice crackled on the other end.
Will put his thumb into the biometric reader and slid his card into the slot along the door. After a few seconds, there was a whir and a click and the door opened to the collections room.
Chapter 6
“Pleased to finally meet you George. I hope your trip to Ottawa was pleasant and uneventful.” Susan extended her hand in a professional greeting.
Smiling, George nodded toward his grandfather.
“My Grandfather and I had a most wonderful trip. Thank-you for asking.”
“This is my assistant, Paul Saya. He is currently working towards completing his doctorate in Anthropology. He is a specialist in traditional aboriginal land-use practices and also works here at the museum, from time to time, helping me out with various projects and assignments.”
Raven's Key: A Novel Page 2