People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past) (51 page)
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Authors: W. Michael Gear,Kathleen O'Neal Gear
BOOK: People of the Weeping Eye (North America's Forgotten Past)
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Trader was frowning. “The Flying Hawk I remember would take this as an opportunity to repay old debts. I don’t blame the Chaktaw for preparing their defenses.” He looked at Old White. “What do you think? Should we stick to the original plan to travel down the Horned Serpent River? Or would it be better to make the more expensive portage from the Tenasee to the headwaters of the Black Warrior?”
“That’s a much longer, rougher portage,” Old White noted. “Crossing into the Horned Serpent, we cross hills from one watershed to the next. Two days at most depending on the trails. To the Black Warrior? That could take seven to ten days depending on labor, the trails, and weather.”
“Figure three times the Trade,” Trader decided. “Maybe more if there is news of a Chikosi war party in the area. People will be nervous.”
Old White shot him a curious look. “I thought you were the one who said we had to stop calling them Chikosi, that it was derogatory.”
“If it doesn’t bother you to be insulted, why should it bother me?”
Old White turned to Wolf Tail. “Do the Chaktaw still honor the Power of Trade, or have they grown introspective like the Michigamea?”
“Introspective?” Wolf Tail mused. “I like that. It’s a good term for people who are busy staring up their own behinds. But to answer your question, the Chaktaw have always honored the Power of Trade in the past. For the moment, however, they will be very suspicious, worried about spies, and—I don’t have to remind you—wary of anyone with ties to the Chikosi.”
“Well,” Old White said wearily, “Power didn’t promise us that this would be easy.”
Trader fingered his chin. “What kind of trouble would we be in if we just went back upriver and Traded with the Oneota for a while?”
“Somehow,” Old White said dryly, “I don’t think Power would let us get away with that.”
“There’s the Charokee over to the east,” Wolf Tail suggested. “If you’re bound and determined to deal with barbarians, they can be as rude as Chikosi.”
Old White noticed that Swimmer had decided to lift his leg on the corner of the square. Wolf Tail shifted his attention to the dog, one disapproving eyebrow raising.
“It’s all right,” Trader said, smiling blandly. “I was inclined to it myself.”
H
eron Wing pounded acorn and hickory nut flour into a patty, slathered grease on both sides, and laid it on a growing stack atop a wooden platter. She kept casting sidelong glances at Morning Dew as she stirred dried pawpaws into a mix of cornmeal and sunflower seeds.
eron Wing pounded acorn and hickory nut flour into a patty, slathered grease on both sides, and laid it on a growing stack atop a wooden platter. She kept casting sidelong glances at Morning Dew as she stirred dried pawpaws into a mix of cornmeal and sunflower seeds.
The day was chilly, but bright. The warmth from the fire they worked around had coaxed a fine perspiration from Morning Dew’s skin. People were already arriving at Split Sky City from the towns up and down the river. Camps were springing up outside the palisade. All brought food, of course, but bellies—never full for most of the year—always seemed to yearn for more during the holidays.
Among the Sky Hand, the solstice served as the major winter ceremony when people remembered Spider, who had climbed up to the sun after Vulture, Bushy-tailed Opossum, and Many-Colored Crow had failed to bring the fire down to earth. Winter solstice wasn’t as
important as the Busk Ceremony—when the green corn was sanctified and the people underwent their ritual cleansing before restarting the sacred fire—but it was still one of the major celebrations.
important as the Busk Ceremony—when the green corn was sanctified and the people underwent their ritual cleansing before restarting the sacred fire—but it was still one of the major celebrations.
“Smoke Shield returned from his ‘hunt’ last night,” Heron Wing announced.
“I know.” Morning Dew continued to concentrate on her cooking.
“Curious thing, he came back with speckles of blood on his clothing, but no game. He’s in a surly mood.”
Morning Dew ground her teeth, fearing to look up and meet Heron Wing’s eyes.
Tell me he hasn’t asked for me. Please!
Tell me he hasn’t asked for me. Please!
“I don’t know what happened upriver, and apparently he won’t speak of it.” Heron Wing thoughtfully greased another of the cakes. “I have heard that he returned without his bow and arrows. His bearhide cape is missing, too.” Heron Wing wiped at her forehead, smearing it with grease. “Flying Hawk is worried. He didn’t come out and say it, but I can see it in his eyes.”
Morning Dew glanced down at her hands, absently rubbing her fingers together. She could sense Screaming Falcon’s eyes, as if he were watching her from across an immense distance.
Heron Wing hesitated. “Could you look at me for a moment? I need to ask you something.”
Morning Dew lifted her gaze, meeting Heron Wing’s as the woman asked, “Did Smoke Shield say anything when you were with him? Would you have any hint as to why he went up the river?”
“Who knows what possesses that man?” Morning Dew shook her head. “The last time I saw him, he was in a rage over the captives.” She swallowed hard. “And … and what happened to them.”
“What did he say in particular?”
“He thought the Albaamaha did it.” She couldn’t help herself, but glanced back at her hands.
“I know that was a difficult day for you.” Heron Wing
sat back on her haunches. “The Council gave him direct orders to leave the Albaamaha alone for the time being. But then Red Awl disappears. Now Smoke Shield comes home from a hunting trip without his weapons and coat. And he’s in a foul mood on top of it. His clothes have spots of blood, and his lip is swollen and bloody. If you ask me it looks more like it was bitten; but he tells a story about falling in the forest.”
sat back on her haunches. “The Council gave him direct orders to leave the Albaamaha alone for the time being. But then Red Awl disappears. Now Smoke Shield comes home from a hunting trip without his weapons and coat. And he’s in a foul mood on top of it. His clothes have spots of blood, and his lip is swollen and bloody. If you ask me it looks more like it was bitten; but he tells a story about falling in the forest.”
Morning Dew said nothing.
Heron Wing was still watching her. “Look at me, Morning Dew. There, that’s better. Listen to my words: You are a captive, but you are also a matron. Granted, you are young, but one thing you are not is stupid. I would like to know what you think. Come on, you can do that, can’t you? Think?”
Morning Dew met Heron Wing’s eyes, saying, “I’m afraid my thoughts would either get me a beating, or worse, sent back to Smoke Shield.”
Heron Wing couldn’t stifle her laughter. “Well, how about this? For this one moment, let us forget what is between us, and just speak as two women. I can well imagine what goes through your head, because the same thoughts would be in mine were our roles changed.” She shrugged. “And who knows, one day they might be. The future is a frightening place, and forever uncertain. But for now, just be honest with me. We can go back to playing master and slave if anyone should happen in on us.”
Morning Dew frowned. “Why should I do this? Anything I say could be held against me.”
Heron Wing arched her brow. “Oh, I don’t know. I suspect that you wish we were all dead. I think you wish you had Smoke Shield hanging from a square in White Arrow Town. That way you could roast his shaft and balls with a cane torch just for the simple pleasure of hearing him scream. What more could there be?”
Morning Dew pursed her lips.
That’s about it in a pecan shell.
That’s about it in a pecan shell.
“At least,” Heron Wing continued, “that’s exactly
how I’d feel were I you. And believe me, I know the pleasures of Smoke Shield’s bed. But here’s the thing: You were raised in the middle of clan politics just as I was. I want to know what you think.”
how I’d feel were I you. And believe me, I know the pleasures of Smoke Shield’s bed. But here’s the thing: You were raised in the middle of clan politics just as I was. I want to know what you think.”
“About what?”
“Do you think he could have gone after Red Awl?”
She glanced at the doorway, running through her options. Caution finally surrendered to the opportunity to vent her feelings. “I think he’s the most dangerous man I’ve ever known. Do you remember what Pale Cat said the other night, about Smoke Shield never saying he regretted anything? He has a soul sickness, Heron Wing. Something is dark, black, and twisted inside him. What makes it worse is that he is Chief Clan. If he fixes something in his mind, he will accomplish it.” She winced. “Just like he wanted me.”
Heron Wing nodded. “You have no idea.”
“Then why does Flying Hawk put up with it?”
“Because the high minko was a lot like Smoke Shield once upon a time. Flying Hawk sees a younger version of himself. He keeps thinking that Smoke Shield will change when he assumes leadership. And, he’s desperate. Flying Hawk is the last of his line. If Smoke Shield doesn’t follow him as high minko, the leadership will go to a cousin.”
“He’ll be dead by then. What difference does it make?”
Heron Wing patted out another of the cakes and greased it. “Myself, I think it has something to do with killing his brother. He has spent his entire life overcoming the stigma attached to that one passionate act. My guess is that when he dies, he wants to find his dead brother’s souls and say, ‘See, it’s all right. I kept our family’s prestige intact. I was a worthy successor in spite of what I did to you.’ And then there’s Green Snake.”
“Who is he?”
“He was Smoke Shield’s brother—the man who gave him that terrible scar. Green Snake was a … well, he
was a wonderful man. Everything that Smoke Shield isn’t. Kind, compassionate, and thoughtful—everyone liked him. Even as a boy there was talk about what a good high minko he would make. Smoke Shield was jealous, and being Smoke Shield, he managed to drive Green Snake into enough of a rage that Green Snake struck Smoke Shield down with a war club, then ran away, horrified at what he’d done.”
was a wonderful man. Everything that Smoke Shield isn’t. Kind, compassionate, and thoughtful—everyone liked him. Even as a boy there was talk about what a good high minko he would make. Smoke Shield was jealous, and being Smoke Shield, he managed to drive Green Snake into enough of a rage that Green Snake struck Smoke Shield down with a war club, then ran away, horrified at what he’d done.”
“So how did that reflect on Flying Hawk? Why would that affect his relations with his brother in the afterlife?”
“Because he was the boys’ uncle. He had the responsibility of raising them. And, lo and behold, one brother struck the other one down. Flying Hawk has always seen that as his failure, not Green Snake’s. If, on the other hand, he can make Smoke Shield into a good high minko, I firmly believe his souls will rest easier.”
“Why would that be?”
“Because he could make the argument to himself that what Green Snake did wasn’t important in the end, that Smoke Shield was the right man for the position.”
“Then why would you care what I think about all this?”
“Because you and I both know that Smoke Shield will never be the man Flying Hawk hopes he will. It is beyond his … how did you put it? Twisted black souls? A most apt description.”
Morning Dew laughed bitterly. “Why would I want to contribute to this discussion?”
“Because”—Heron Wing gave her a clear-eyed stare—“if Smoke Shield succeeds in alienating the Albaamaha, drives them into revolt, your people will see an opportunity to strike back. We will be so busy with the Albaamaha that your Chahta warriors will have initial success. They’ll burn a couple of towns and go home feeling avenged. Enough Albaamaha and Sky Hand will die, and the threat will seem so menacing, that hostilities will be put on hold. A mighty force will be put together to break the Chahta once and for all.”
“They will suffer for it. My people know war as well as yours.”
Heron Wing nodded. “But by then, Smoke Shield will be firmly in charge. He will have vanquished the Albaamaha threat, at least for the moment. The bad blood will eventually fester into another uprising. But you know Smoke Shield, how he plans and plots. If the Chahta strike while we’re fighting with each other, how do you think Smoke Shield will react?”
She sat back, playing it out between her souls. “He will see it as a terrible affront to his authority. We will become his obsession, and he will be driven to find a way to pay us back for attacking while he was vulnerable. It won’t just be war, but personal. Just like blaming the Albaamaha for killing the captives, or taking me because I rebuffed his advances.”
“Ah,” Heron Wing said, “now you’re talking like a matron.”
“But he would still have to win the war.”
“A matter of time.”
Morning Dew bristled. “Don’t think that every Chahta town will fall like White Arrow. We were caught by surprise. That won’t happen again.”
“Think, Matron,” Heron Wing said sternly. “You will win some, and lose some. That is the way of war. I agree that Smoke Shield got lucky at White Arrow Town. But think it through. You have six towns scattered up and down the Horned Serpent River within easy reach. Six! We have fourteen in addition to Split Sky City.”
“Most of your population is Albaamaha.”
“Who support our warriors through tribute. Your warriors live on farmsteads. Granted, your women do most of the work, but men don’t like to leave wives and children behind, undefended. The Chahta can’t call up a large body of warriors and keep them ready to fight for an extended period of time. Those men won’t leave their families out on farmsteads for several moons. And
they can’t send them to the fortified towns during the growing season or they will lose the crop.”
they can’t send them to the fortified towns during the growing season or they will lose the crop.”
“Gods,” Morning Dew said, the implications of it falling into place. “If the Chikosi really committed themselves, they could drive us right out of the Horned Serpent Valley. Reinforcements couldn’t arrive in time from the Pearl River towns off to the west.”
“Maybe, but whether we drove you west or not, our concerted attacks would leave you severely weakened.”
She gave Heron Wing a hard stare. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because the Natchez, the Yuchi, or the Pensacola would send war parties in our wake to look for slaves and booty. What we started, they would finish.”
Morning Dew frowned.
We have alliances with both the Natchez and Pensacola.
But then she knew full well that an alliance only lasted as long as both parties saw the benefit. They could be broken overnight based on some perceived insult, or a wild claim of sorcery.
We have alliances with both the Natchez and Pensacola.
But then she knew full well that an alliance only lasted as long as both parties saw the benefit. They could be broken overnight based on some perceived insult, or a wild claim of sorcery.
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