Coppermine (16 page)

Uluksuk’s second wife was talking loudly and becoming more upset, and the wives and older children were agreeing with her. Creed looked to Angituk.

“She is worried that their shaman is going away. The families have relied on him and his spirit helpers to change bad weather and find animals to hunt, to cure the sick and kill evil spirits. She believes there is an evil spirit among them now.”

The other women began to moan and Creed recalled Angituk’s advice: make a sound with each breath in the presence of a bad spirit so it cannot enter you.

Then Uluksuk spoke and Angituk translated again. “With your permission, he would like to drive away the bad spirit from the families before he goes.”

Jack studied the old shaman for a moment, then nodded for him to go ahead.

Uluksuk took out a small wooden oval disc. There were notches cut into the sides. On a sinew cord he twirled the disc over his head, showing great skill and accuracy in the confined space even with his hands bound by the handcuffs. To Creed’s surprise it created a low, thrumming moan that built to a deep-throated, mumbling roar. It seemed to come from everywhere, both inside and outside the snow house. Creed imagined a surly host of invisible spirits surrounding them. The family was spellbound and Uluksuk called out to them to scare any malevolent spirits away. He counted one, two, three and everyone let loose a fearsome howl. As captivated as the others, Angituk joined in. After three such shouts, suddenly the whirling disc was deftly caught and it disappeared and Uluksuk shushed everyone to silence.

Listening and looking in each corner of the igloo, the shaman assured them that all the bad spirits were gone, and the people cheered. All, he continued, except one. The worst one. It was the hardest to get rid of. It was
Hilaq,
the white bear who made himself invisible.

“There he is!” said the shaman, gesturing to a space against the wall near the doorway, close to Creed. The women scrambled away from it, terrified, to the far side of the igloo. Uluksuk chanted magic words and Creed heard a rumbling growl from the open space.
Very impressive how the old man can throw his voice,
he thought. Suddenly the shaman leapt. As the women and children pulled back and cowered, he wrestled with the invisible spirit, and his efforts contorted his face. Creed held his pistol under one arm, prepared for an escape attempt, but he too was quite taken with the conviction of the performance.

It began to appear that Uluksuk was losing. He was on the floor with the spirit on top of him, pushing him down on his knees. His shackled hands went out to the cooking table and grasped a copper blade. Creed withdrew the pistol a little, ready in case he made a move toward him. As the spirit drove Uluksuk down, he brought the knife up in a desperate lunge into the air. An inhuman scream raised the hair on the back of Creed’s neck and echoed through the igloo. Fresh blood splattered across the snow floor of the house. The caribou skin over the doorway flew open, untouched by any human hand, and the invisible monster fled into the night. Uluksuk scrambled after him out the exit tunnel. For a second Creed thought he might be escaping, but he could hear, as the people huddled together inside, a battle raging beyond the snow walls. Uluksuk shouted angry words and was answered by the growls and screams of the evil spirit bear surely receiving mortal wounds. Creed listened closely, amazed to find that the voices overlapped.
How does he do that?
He was tempted to follow Uluksuk outside to see what was going on, but the expression of alarm in Angituk’s eyes gave him pause.

The night grew quiet but for the wind spirits outside. A moment later the caribou skin flew back and Uluksuk tumbled into their midst, clutching the bloody copper knife. Again Creed’s hand had the pistol ready, but the old shaman lay down exhausted on the floor.

“He is dead. You will be safe now.”

Sinnisiak went to him, looking for any wounds. Uluksuk was weak but unhurt. His family congratulated him on his victory over the evil spirit. Uluksuk accepted the praise graciously. His first wife brought him broth and touched his face with affection. Angituk too offered Uluksuk praise and thanks, no less impressed than the others.

Creed had to admit it was a skilled performance. He reached down and touched the spirit blood staining the packed-snow floor. He sniffed it. It was in fact blood.
The old man is very clever,
he said to himself.

THE SINGLE WICK
of an oil lamp illuminated the glacial interior of the igloo, its subtle undulations creating phantom shadows that throbbed across the ice walls. Uluksuk, Sinnisiak, and their wives and children slept naked together beneath furs on the floor. Angituk lay fast asleep beside him, though she was fully clothed. Creed’s eyes were heavy. His hand rested gently on the pistol. He slapped his own face twice to wake himself up. He moved to rouse Angituk to spell him, but she was sleeping so deeply he decided to wait another hour.

He slipped into waking dreams. He ran across the churning ice floes of a black ocean. He leapt from one tiny island to the next, tempting the bottomless waters below. He awoke with a start. He felt the pistol in his hand and his eyes passed over to where the prisoners slept. All was still. All secure.

His eyes settled on the little guttering flame and became heavy again. This time there was rushing water, but it was warm. There were rocks, but they did not threaten. He was naked, but he did not mind. And she was with him too. Angituk. Her full mouth open in teasing laughter. He stretched out a hand to her and she pulled it slowly to her face. She bit down hard, twisting, drawing blood like a wild animal. He startled and woke. He looked at Angituk, in peaceful repose, her full lips parted, breasts rising and falling with each breath, almond eyes lightly closed in dreamlessness. He gazed at her for a long moment, astonished he had once thought her a boy.

Movement across the gloom of the igloo caught his eye. His hand closed on the pistol, but as his eyes cleared he realized it was a man and woman moving beneath a muskox fur. Sinnisiak had mounted his young wife, who knelt underneath him, face down on the skins. They moved against each other, their urgent panting visible in the cool air, their thrusts growing deeper and more vigorous. Creed was an embarrassed witness to their intimacy; he could almost have touched the woman’s splayed fingers with his foot.

The muskox skin slipped back off their shoulders and then off their flanks as the woman rose up on her elbows. She arched her back to better countervail her husband’s determined strokes. Her full breasts swung above her pregnant belly and her brown skin shone with sweat in the cold air. Panting quickly, she spread her knees slightly and reached back with her right hand to grab her hunter’s buttock and guide his efforts. The skins had fallen away completely now and Creed could not take his eyes from the naked coupling bodies so close to him. Sinnisiak raised himself upright and shuddered as he climaxed.

Their breathing slowed and they rolled to one side, still united. When Sinnisiak pulled the muskox skins over them, he looked up to meet Creed’s eyes. The hunter nodded to him with no more self-consciousness than if he were greeting a neighbour on the street. The act was no more private than eating, dancing, or hunting. Thirty seconds later the lovers were asleep and the only sounds in the warm igloo were the gentle rhythms of breathing, moaning, snoring, and the wind howling again outside. Creed experienced a sudden deep pang of loneliness and longed for the warmth of a sleeping lover. He listened to the wind and his leaden eyes settled again on the single flame of the oil lamp.

A HAND ON HIS SHOULDER
roused him. He awoke with a start and raised the pistol in defence. It was Uluksuk’s first wife, the older one who had finished the mukluks. She took the pistol from his hand—it meant nothing to her, she had never seen one—put it on the ground, and replaced it with a soapstone bowl of warm caribou broth.

Creed looked around. Everyone was awake and moving except Angituk. Uluksuk and Sinnisiak had started packing. Creed put a hand on Angituk’s arm and saw the mild panic come and go as she awakened. When her eyes turned to him, he smiled to reassure her. The first wife brought her a bowl. The broth tasted wonderful.

IT WAS A SMALL,
sad gathering outside the snow buildings. Uluksuk instructed his twelve-year-old son and the old man, Sinnisiak’s father, on where to move camp and what animals to hunt in the following year. Uluksuk’s second wife and the younger children were crying. Sinnisiak was crying too. Angituk explained to Creed.

“Uluksuk and Sinnisiak are the strongest hunters in the family. There is great concern they will not find the animals without them. If they don’t, the others die.”

Uluksuk and Sinnisiak gave their spears, bows, and hunting tools to the old man and the boy and quietly continued with more advice on where they might find animals. They both listened attentively.

“We have to go,” Creed said quietly, and Angituk gave him a sharp look.

“These instructions could save the lives of the entire family.”

“Please ask them to say goodbye.”

“There is no such word. It would be bad luck.”

Angituk’s eyes flashed at him, but she told them what he wanted. Uluksuk put his shackled hands around each of his young children and hugged them. He embraced his wives. His second wife was crying; his older first wife remained stoic. Sinnisiak rubbed and licked noses with his pretty young wife and sucked back his tears to show courage. He also, as Uluksuk watched, licked the face of Uluksuk’s younger wife in a way that left no doubt they too were lovers.

“I thought she was Uluksuk’s wife.”

“She is, but her last child is from Sinnisiak.”

Suddenly Sinnisiak was talking quickly, very upset, appealing to Creed with tears in his eyes.

“He does not want to go. He wants you to kill him here.”

“No one’s going to kill him.”

“He doesn’t want to go. He wants to bring his wife.”

“No. I’m sorry. No wives.”

Sinnisiak was desperate and tearful and angry all at once, but it was Uluksuk who calmed him down and reassured him.

“He has no choice,” Creed said quietly, but Angituk ignored this statement.

Uluksuk’s words were having a positive effect on the younger hunter, who eventually began to nod slowly.

“All right. He will come.”

“What did the old one tell him?”

“He said they must show courage for the others. It will be an adventure going south. They will have stories to bring back.”

“I’d say so.”

Creed took gentle hold of Sinnisiak’s arm to guide him south from the camp and the young man complied. Uluksuk joined them. The final leavetaking was strangely abrupt and without conversation or words of farewell. The hunters simply turned away and did not look back.

Angituk kept up a brisk pace in front, followed by Sinnisiak, Uluksuk, and Creed. Creed carried his rifle and guided a qamutik pulled by two of Uluksuk’s dogs. No one spoke. The only sounds were the soft hiss of the runners and the crunch of boots on firm snow. The small sled carried the two wanigans, several caribou skins, cooking utensils, and the priests’ rifles. The suspects each had a bag over one shoulder filled mostly with food that Uluksuk’s wives had packed.

They passed by Koeha’s camp early that afternoon to pick up the tent. Koeha’s people quietly watched them go by, marvelling at the capture of the great shaman. Why does he not turn into a bird or a bear, they asked among themselves. The white shaman from the South must be powerful indeed. Uluksuk did not look at them, only at the ground behind Angituk’s heels. Creed realized this was the very message of his mission: if you commit a crime in the Dominion of Canada, you will be caught and brought to trial. You must answer for your behaviour. This story would travel quickly among the Copper Eskimos. Of this, Creed was sure.

Creed stopped to thank Koeha again for his help and hospitality. Angituk taught him the word
quanaqqutit.
He bought some seal oil in a skin bag and three caribou hides from the old hunter, paying him the tidy sum of four silver dollars, though both knew there was no place for Koeha to spend it. Creed wrote the transaction down in his book; careful accounts were demanded by the force. He also gave him several cans of corned beef and sardines and a small package of Sweet Cap tobacco, which pleased Koeha more.
“Quanaqqutit.”

Kingagolik came out to see Angituk and they embraced and rubbed faces. Angituk shared tears with her old auntie and the woman made her promise to return to them. Angituk turned away from her and did not look back.

THEY WALKED SOUTH
for several hours along the high banks of the Coppermine with Angituk leading and Creed behind, the rifle under his arm. The snow was compact and the walking not too difficult. Despite the constant need to unravel the tangled traces, the sled and the two dogs were a big asset for transporting the heavier gear. Creed’s mukluks, with their three layers of pelt and dry grasses, continued to be comfortable and watertight. His beard had grown to a respectable thickness and gave needed protection against the wind.

That night, at a flat spot up on the high banks overlooking the Coppermine, they put up the tent and fortified it with a little wall of snow. Angituk laid the caribou skins fur-side down against the ground. The untanned skins put up a stink, but the others were used to it and the protection from the cold ground was substantial. Once the shelter was complete, they cooked some meat and fish inside over Creed’s little oil stove with some of the seal oil he had bought from Koeha. Uluksuk and Sinnisiak were just as happy eating the meat raw.

The first night passed like the one in Uluksuk’s igloo, Creed falling in and out of sleep, his hand on his pistol, his prisoners compliant and then snoring with the clear consciences of two babies. The dogs stayed outside in the snow, their muzzles buried under their tails to keep warm.

Eight

As they headed south day by day, the big river continued to freeze up. The days were becoming dramatically shorter; there were only a few hours between dawn and dusk, and for much of that the sun skimmed low along the horizon, their long shadows stretching out behind them to an almost infinite distance.