Coppermine (35 page)

Rouvière looked up to see the young hunter come around behind Le Roux. What was he doing? He brought up his fist as if he were punching the priest in the lower back, but then Rouvière saw the bloody copper blade. Rouvière froze in horror.

Le Roux grabbed for the rifle on the sled, but the older hunter wrestled him for its possession. The rifle fell into the snow. Le Roux grabbed a tent pole from the sled and hit him with it on the head and shoulder. Then Rouvière saw the old hunter stab Le Roux twice in the stomach with a copper blade. The priest fell to his knees, then over onto his back.

Rouvière ran to help Le Roux, but the younger hunter was there with his knife. The hunters now turned and directed their attention toward him. Rouvière looked into the eyes of these men who, the night before, had sung Christian songs with him. Now he could see their intent. He turned and in a panic ran back along the trail they had broken, back toward the mouth of the Coppermine. Despite the wind, he could hear the cartridge sliding into the chamber. He heard the shot and the whizzing bullet pass within inches of his head. He ran faster through the heavy snow, gasping for oxygen in the cold air, raising the skirts of his cassock, leaping over drifts with a desperate energy. Again a bullet passed him, pinging off a rock just to his left. He ran on, hoping the falling snow would obscure him, hoping the rifle’s unfamiliar mechanism would confound the hunter, hoping that …

He felt the punch before he heard the shot and looked down to see the bullet had passed through him, high and to the right. His hot blood glistened and steamed in the cold air. He slumped down in the snow, looking at the new opening in his body. He listened to the wind. He knew they would be coming. He mouthed the words under his faltering breath.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake …”

He could hear them coming for him, closer now, the muffled footfalls of their mukluks in the snow and their heavy breathing. But the words of the psalm calmed him and gave him strength. Rouvière rose slowly to his feet and turned away from the mouth of the Coppermine to face his killers. They stopped in front of him, the old and the young hunter. They watched him with wide eyes.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me …”

There was no evil in the hunters’ eyes. They were as scared as he was. The old hunter stabbed deep into his stomach and the searing pain made Rouvière bend forward and scream. His lungs were filling with blood and no sound came out. He fell onto his back away from them in the deep, soft snow and looked up into the opaque sky where the wind had calmed now. Fat snowflakes rushed toward him. He could hear water flowing. He continued to whisper the words:

“Thou prepareth a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over …”

The image of Sinnisiak appeared above him, his expression worried, fearful, looking down at him.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”

He saw the axe rise over the hunter’s shoulder, the dark profile stark against the white sky.

“And I will dwell in the house of the Lord …”

“I KILLED HIM DEAD,”
Sinnisiak repeated to the court sadly, and Creed awoke from his reverie with a shudder.

“I am sorry,” Sinnisiak said with conviction, and then he fell silent after these last words of his testimony. There had been an eagerness to tell the story and a deep regret in his voice. Even after studying the site and imagining the climax of the murders, Creed was in mild shock at the brutality of the final moments. He looked over to see the stricken expression on Angituk’s face and thought he saw her shiver.

After a moment Wallbridge shook himself as if from a trance. “All right. Mr. Sinnisiak? So Father Le Roux is dead beside the sled and Father Rouvière is in the creek. What did you do then?”

“We apologized to them for killing them. After they were dead, Uluksuk said to me, ‘Once in my grandfather’s time hostile white men came and killed some of us and we killed them and the people cut off some of them and ate it. We better open him up.’ So Uluksuk cut into Kuleavik’s belly as we did with caribou and he gave me some of his liver. I ate it and he ate it too. We gave some to the spirits. I licked the blood off the knife. Then we went back to the other man, Ilogoak, and I cut him open and we ate some of his liver also and shared with the spirits.”

“And why did you eat the livers?”

“It was because Uluksuk’s grandfather’s people did it with white men once a long time ago.”

“But do you know why? Was it to protect you?”

“I’m not sure. Out of respect for the spirits, I think. It is what we do after killing a creature. Uluksuk is the shaman. He knows why.”

Eighteen

In the cross-examination, McCaul’s chief aim was to show that Sinnisiak and Uluksuk had deliberately set out to trail the priests, kill them, and steal their rifles.

“So, Mr. Sinnisiak, after you had killed Father Le Roux and Father Rouvière and left their bodies lying in the snow, what did you take from them?”

“We each took a rifle and cartridges. I took one of their black coats and a book with pictures. That was all. It was the others who came with Koeha that took the other things, the shirts and other clothing and books and medals.”

“But you took the rifles.”

“Yes. And three boxes of cartridges.”

“Because that’s all you really wanted.”

“Yes.”

“You followed the priests because you wanted those rifles, right?”

“No.”

“The priests had insulted your friend Kormik. And they had rifles.”

“We were going fishing and also to meet my cousin.”

“Then why didn’t you go fishing? Why didn’t you wait for your cousin?”

“We had killed the priests. Hornby said if white men were killed, more would come and kill us all. We had to warn the people. So we went back to the camp at the mouth of the river as soon as it was light. I went to Kormik’s tent. Both Kormik and Koeha were sleeping. I woke them up and told them that we had killed those two white fellows.”

“And what did they say to you? Did they tell you you had done a bad thing? Did they say it was very bad to kill two human beings?”

“I can’t remember what they said. They went to get the rest of the priests’ stuff. They started in the morning and came back the same night. I can’t tell any more. If I knew more, I would tell you. I can’t remember any more.”

“No further questions.”

ULUKSUK’S TESTIMONY
was identical in every detail to Sinnisiak’s. There was no tendency to make the other more culpable or even to mitigate the facts of the killings. The older man looked often to Creed or to Angituk for encouragement, and his speech was slower. He had lost weight; the lines of his face cut deep. His powerful shoulders drooped. It was apparent he was ill and weak. He still had trouble keeping down the unfamiliar food, and the old shaman was growing more depressed every day. But, with Angituk’s affectionate encouragement, he did his best to rally enough to tell the story and answer questions. When he was finished, Wallbridge asked the question many had been waiting for.

“So, Mr. Uluksuk, we have heard that it was known that your grandfather once ate the livers of white men who had been killed.”

“Yes. They told the story of one year, many years ago, two lifetimes ago, that white men came from a ship caught in the ice. They were hostile and killed two of our people and so our people killed some of them. It was recommended by the shamans that their livers be eaten.”

“Why did they do that?”

“We eat the caribou liver to show respect to the animal. This was the same for the white men—to say we are sorry we killed you, but it was necessary so that we would live. And we share some with the other spirits out of respect so they will not trouble us. The liver also gives us the strength of the caribou or, in this case, the white man. And finally, if we eat the liver it is protection so that the white men will not get up again and kill us.”

“Thank you. No further questions.”

MCCAUL’S CROSS-EXAMINATION
began in an amiable way.

“Mr. Uluksuk, you are a shaman. You provide a link between the human world and the spirit world.”

“Yes. That is true. I find out what the good spirits need to keep them happy.”

“And what about bad spirits?”

“I find ways to avoid bad spirits or drive them away to protect the people.”

“And you do other things. I hear you flew to the moon.” McCaul actually winked at the jury.

Angituk glared at him for a moment before translating. “Yes. Once, I flew to the moon.”

“How was that?”

“I found it much like the Earth, but no snow.”

“And you dove down into the sea under the ice and stayed for two days.”

“It was only overnight. I talked to Kannokapfaluk, the goddess of the animals, to convince her to let the seals come back to us so we could eat. And she let them, so all was well again.”

“And you can fly through the air and swallow fire?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And I am told you can transform yourself into other creatures—a wolf, a bear, a bird. Is this true?”

“Yes. Other creatures. I may even try to become a white man, but it is hard. A wolf is my favourite.”

“You prefer being a wolf to a white man.”

“Yes.”

The courtroom murmured their amusement and again McCaul looked at the jury with an indulgent grin, having fun. Angituk resented this disrespect.

McCaul continued: “But dealing with spirits is what you do most. It is your stock-in-trade as a shaman, if you will.”

Angituk hesitated over the translation of “stock-in-trade.” She used “respected skill.”

“That’s true.”

“If there were no spirits, you’d be without a job.”

“A world without spirits—it would be very lonely.”

“I’m saying you encourage your people to believe in evil spirits. It is in your personal interest to promote the belief in spirits, isn’t it?”

“I object, your Lordship,” Wallbridge responded. “I find the direction of questioning offensive and disrespectful. It is like suggesting a priest is in it for the personal gain, or that my learned colleague’s declared belief in Christianity is solely to promote his commercial interests.”

Harvey sustained the objection.

WALLBRIDGE RECALLED
Jack Creed to complete his cross-examination. “Inspector Creed, when you stayed in Koeha’s camp at the mouth of the Coppermine, did you carry a gun with you?”

“No. I didn’t want to cause any fear among the people.”

“Because they were scared of guns?”

“Yes. Few had ever seen one. They hunted with bows and arrows and spears, but they had heard the legends about guns and seen those of the priests, who had demonstrated how they worked. The people knew what a gun could do.”

Wallbridge picked up a book from his table and showed it to Creed. “Inspector Creed, are you familiar with Vilhjalmur Stefansson’s book
My Life with the Eskimo,
of 1912?”

“I am.”

“In it, Stefansson states that the three things the Eskimo fears most are evil spirits, white men, and strangers. Is this true?”

“He is the authority. But I would say from my experience that is accurate.”

“If a white man, a stranger, possibly possessed of an evil spirit, approaches an Eskimo, would he feel threatened?”

“Certainly.”

“And if this white stranger were holding a gun, would he feel threatened?”

“Of course.”

“And if this white stranger with the gun is pointing the gun at the Eskimo, does the Eskimo have any doubt it’s going to be used?”

“No doubt whatsoever.”

Young Wallbridge was satisfied with Creed’s response. Creed caught a glare from C.C. McCaul, as he had expected, but he was concerned to find similar disapproval in the stern face of Justice Harvey.

As the Justice declared the court adjourned and left the courtroom, Nicole came up to Creed. “Darling … I was just a little surprised at you playing into the hands of the defence. I know they are your friends and they’re very charming—”

“I was just giving the facts.”

“Of course you were, and facts are admirable things, but you have to be careful. They can be manipulated so easily.”

“Yes, they can.”

“Anyway … no matter. Come over for dinner tonight. We have a fine leg of lamb and some friends from the Rotary Club who would love to meet you.”

“I’d like to, Nicole, but duty calls. I have some people to see. Could we have dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course, Jack. I realize you have responsibilities.”

There was a slight chill in the air as she kissed his cheek.

CREED VISITED ULUKSUK
and Sinnisiak that night in their cell beneath the courtroom. He reassured them they were doing well, even though the jury’s stone faces were quite unreadable. He had found the prisoners some frozen caribou and they ate and talked of home. Sinnisiak ate hungrily, but the old shaman remained depressed and taciturn and ate very little. His eyes were dull, his skin opaque, and Angituk explained to Creed:

“He misses his wives and children and grandchildren. He is worried that without him to hunt and interpret the spirits, they will not have enough food. They could be ill. Or, sensing they are defenceless, a bad spirit could be harassing them. I have been trying to tell him they are fine, but he doesn’t know. He feels his powers are weak here.”

Sinnisiak too was homesick, but he found this new world interesting. He was fond of the food, he liked the beef stew a lot, and he loved the candies. He was learning some English words: “Court … rifle … river … priest … food … to hunt, to kill.” But he was worried about Uluksuk. “I have never seen him like this. He is very unhappy.”

“Uluksuk, you must eat and stay healthy,” Creed told him. “You cannot give up. Stay strong. Try to get some sleep.”

Uluksuk raised his eyes to him, and nodded slowly that he understood.