Adventures of Radisson (18 page)

After the two marvellous weeks spent hunting, piling up beaver pelts, bear fat, and smoked meat, Orinha savoured every moment of the smooth trip home. He rediscovered the fascinating charms of womenfolk, as he admired Maniska travelling ahead of him, strong and sturdy for all her small and graceful body. She paddled with precision, steadily and skilfully, and it was clear that she was used to getting around in a canoe. Orinha admired her every movement, each more harmonious than those of his companions. At the same time, he delighted in the play of the autumn light as it sparkled on the landscape around them, dancing off the crystal-clear water in a thousand reflections and setting the leaves of the forest ablaze with colour. He breathed in the fresh air, paddled, ate, laughed, and gazed at Maniska for hours on end. Each gift of life seemed absolutely priceless and full of goodness to him.

Before they reached the Mohawk River that would carry them home, Kondaron gave the order to make an important stop. They had already encountered friends and family from neighbouring villages, and news of their arrival would spread quickly. It was time to share the spoils, before the cheering and praise went to their heads. They beached their canoes on a sandy tongue of land and bound all five prisoners tightly, hand and foot, including the two women and the young Erie whose life Kondaron had promised to spare. For the last time as chief of the campaign, Kondaron stood to address his warriors, who were gathered in a circle.

“Here we are at the end of our adventure,” he said solemnly. “With the exception of Atotara, we must thank the spirits for bringing us all back safe and sound after our long and dangerous journey. Let us thank them for granting us three victories and allowing us to bring so many scalps and prisoners back to our families. The spirits were truly on our side. You also conducted yourselves with great bravery. You fought with cunning and determination— and you won.”

Listening as Kondaron looked back on their journey, Orinha saw a stream of surprising images pass through his mind. He recalled the first difficult days of walking, the wonderful crossing of the great lake, and the fear he had felt as they entered enemy territory. He could still see their first attack clearly: his dithering and confusion, the failed ambush at the gates to the Erie village, and their frantic getaway. His body could still feel the blows from the last, bitter battle. He thought of his companions' wounds, of Atotara's death. So much had happened in so little time! He felt as though he had undergone a profound transformation. He was now a seasoned warrior.

All around him, everyone seemed lost in thought. No one broke the long silence imposed by Kondaron; all waited for their chief to continue with his speech.

“It has been a long time since a party of nine warriors returned home with so many scalps and prisoners, with so many spoils taken from the enemy, with so many beaver pelts, so much meat and fat. You are all deserving of your share of the spoils. You all deserve the glory that will be showered upon us when our families, our clans, and everyone in the village hail our return and welcome us as heroes. But first, I would like the prisoners we left behind and the scalps we couldn't bring back with us to be counted as part of the spoils. Orinha, the youngest among us, fought like a man and deserves our admiration. Ganaha always supported me. Otasseté, the most experienced of us all, was always there to advise me. Tahonsiwa put me back on the right path. Shononses, Deconissora, Tahira, and Thadodaho, my brothers, let us celebrate together and share in our spoils.”

Kondaron had laid out all the scalps at his feet before beginning his speech. Solemnly, he handed out two scalps to each warrior, keeping none for himself and leaving nine on the ground as though they belonged to no one. Next came the delicate matter of dividing up the prisoners. In a loud voice, Kondaron continued:

“Tahira and Shononses, you will see to it that no one mistreats the tallest and the strongest of our prisoners when we return to the village. In the days to come, you will lead him to the Oneida and present him to Atotara's family. This prisoner will make up for the death of the youngest warrior among us. To each of you, I give an additional scalp for your injuries.”

For the first time, a handful of warriors showed signs of discontent. Orinha saw it clearly.

“The youngest Erie prisoner is mine,” Kondaron goes on. “I promised him I would spare his life and I will watch over him. My clan will adopt him. This prisoner is enough for me. I do not want a scalp, or any of the things we took from the Erie. You will share them among yourselves. Having been your chief gives me as much satisfaction as these precious spoils. Deconissora nearly died at the hands of the enemy and deserves the other Erie prisoner. Deconissora, do with him what you will.”

Sensing the growing impatience of a few of the warriors, Orinha saw that the solidarity that had united them thus far would not last. In particular, he noticed the tense expressions on the faces of Tahonsiwa, Thadodaho, and Tahira. Their pursed lips were doing all they could to hold back floods of protest. Kondaron must have seen it coming, but the inexperienced Orinha was caught unawares. He too was now on edge, ready to react, glancing at Ganaha, who remained perfectly expressionless. Kondaron continued his efforts to resolve the sensitive issue of the prisoners.

“The two women will be shared between— ”

“The two women belong to me!” Tahonsiwa cried out angrily.

“No they don't!” retorted Orinha, cut to the quick. “That's not true, Tahonsiwa! They're not yours!”

“And why would they belong to you?” asked Ganaha, who saw the whole thing coming. “Didn't you call us to help you find and capture them? Didn't I see them at the same time as you?”

“Don't forget I followed them through the forest,” Thadodaho broke in. “Without me, we would never have found them again! One of them belongs to me!”

Kondaron tried to calm everyone with his body language. Everyone wanted a share of the prisoners, the most precious of their spoils, but there were only five prisoners for nine warriors.

“My brothers,” Kondaron said firmly, “the women must be shared, because none of you deserves to have both.”

“I was the one who found them,” insisted Tahonsiwa. “I led the search.”

“You are forgetting the two women we killed when we were fleeing the Erie village,” replied Orinha. “Shononses and I captured them.”

“Shononses already has a prisoner and you both have one of their scalps,” Tahonsiwa replied, not in the least impressed.

“He's not my prisoner,” retorted Shononses. “Tahira and I are going to give him to Atotara's family, who will decide what to do with him. He's not my prisoner, or Tahira's. He belongs to Atotara's family.”

“Tahonsiwa is behaving like a child,” said Otasseté firmly, trying to bring the quarrel to an end. “He claims to be wise and to know what is best for us all, but he's only thinking of himself. Tahonsiwa should be quiet and listen to Kondaron. Perhaps Thadodaho is right, perhaps he does deserve the women more than you. Listen to your chief and learn from his wisdom.”

Tahonsiwa swallowed his anger and held his tongue. The tension dropped a notch. Orinha had thought that taking Maniska in their canoe had meant she belonged to him and his brother. But he could see it was far from a foregone conclusion. He didn't care what Tahonsiwa wanted: he was prepared to fight for Maniska's life. He knew that Ganaha was thinking the same thing he was thinking: they both wanted to give her to Katari. Tahonsiwa, on the other hand, wanted to kill the two women. Ganaha stood up to lend extra weight to his opinion and broke the tense silence.

“Orinha and I are from the same family,” he said. “We want to give Maniska to our mother as a slave. Katari is not as young as she used to be and she needs a helping hand. She deserves this woman, and we do too— we fought as well as any man here. Orinha also captured a prisoner we weren't able to bring with us and I killed her with my own hands. Between the two of us, we certainly deserve Maniska. If anyone challenges our will, let him stand.”

Nobody moved, or replied to Ganaha, not even Kondaron, who simply nodded his agreement. Satisfied, Ganaha sat back down. Kondaron continued to divide up the spoils.

“There remains one prisoner and seven scalps,” he said. “I would like to give the second woman to Tahonsiwa. I hope she will satisfy his greed and calm the resentment he has shown toward his brothers. It is true that Tahonsiwa is a courageous warrior and his advice has been useful to us: he deserves this prisoner. But no more. I will give two more scalps to those who do not have a prisoner. The honour of having killed more enemies than the others will shine down upon them. Otasseté and Thadodaho, take these symbols of strength and courage— they belong to you. The three other scalps will be given to whomever I choose.”

Slowly, Kondaron moved from warrior to warrior, looking at each of them closely. Peace had almost returned to the group. Everyone knew their victory was a great one and their return to the village would be triumphant. Each would enjoy every moment of it, especially since Kondaron acted fairly and humbly by keeping the smallest share of the spoils for himself, as any chief worthy of his rank must do. He stopped in front of Thadodaho and handed him another scalp.

“Take this,” he told him. “You deserve this scalp for helping capture the women. May the spirits watch over you.”

He then stopped before Otasseté.

“Your words often kept us on the right path,” he said, “and you are getting older. There will be fewer battles for you. This scalp is just reward for all you did for us.”

Finally, Kondaron stopped in front of Orinha, who was bursting with joy after snatching Maniska from the hands of Tahonsiwa. Kondaron put a hand on his shoulder and, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, said:

“The final scalp is for you, young Orinha. You brought honour upon your father Garagonké, a great warrior and a great chief. You also brought honour upon Garagonké's oldest son, Orinha, who gave you his name. I knew him well, and you proved yourself his equal. You are now a true Mohawk. Take pride in all you have accomplished.”

Then, Kondaron muttered under his breath, so that only Radisson heard him:

“The spirit that guides me has protected you until now. But when we return to the village, you must give me back the bark cylinder I lent you. My spirit can do no more for you. Now, you must follow your own path, and find the spirit that will guide you.”

Orinha was a little surprised at the significance Kondaron gave the bark cylinder, but mostly he felt relieved. Even though everything went well, he never really believed that the spirit was helping him. In fact, the bark cylinder he wore around his waist sometimes worried him more than anything else. He feared he might unintentionally discover its secret and anger Kondaron, or the spirit, rather than enjoy its protection. Whatever the case, his life as an Iroquois was now shaping up to be easier and he no longer needed it.

After dividing up the objects taken from the Erie, as well as the food supplies and the beaver pelts, Kondaron again asked his warriors for their attention. Did they agree with how the spoils had been shared? All agreed without further discussion.

T
WO DAYS LATER
, the warriors reached the trail that led to their village. A small crowd had already gathered on the riverbank with presents and food to celebrate the war party's victorious return. Orinha's favourite sister, Conharassan, was among them. She stood there attentively, well away from the shore, until Orinha waved her forward. Then she ran and jumped into his arms, almost knocking him over. Her eyes full of joy and admiration, Conharassan kissed him passionately. She then kissed Ganaha, like a brother, before coming back to snuggle in Orinha's arms. She took him by the arm, the hand, the waist; she hung from his neck and cast her loving gaze back at his own.

Surprised and delighted by his sister's behaviour, Orinha tore himself away from her to help Ganaha unload the canoe. Then, he asked her to stand back for a moment as he searched for his gift for her. Both excited and impatient, hands behind her, Conharassan agreed to back up while he searched for her gift. “Here you are,” Orinha told her, “Make yourself a nice dress from these two deerskins.” Delighted, she kissed her brother again, and then unrolled the animal skins to admire how fine they were, touched and grateful that he had thought of her. Maniska, who had meticulously prepared the deerskins, unloaded the canoe, keeping her eyes on the ground. Orinha was completely captivated by his sister's attentions. She was more beautiful, more mature, and more confident than before. His success as a warrior seemed to have fanned the flames of her affection. For a moment, he forgot his fair prisoner, who felt more threatened than ever in the midst of so many Iroquois.

Messengers ran on ahead to the village to let everyone know how many scalps and prisoners Kondaron and his warriors had brought back from their profitable campaign. Once the canoes had been emptied and hauled far up onto the riverbank, the warriors prepared a feast with the meat and corn their friends and family had given them. They sang and danced with the young women and men come to celebrate their victories. They ate, told tales of their adventures, and rested as they waited for the slaves who would carry their packs to the village the next day. In the meantime, the five prisoners remained bound to stakes beaten into the ground. It would be a calamity if one of them were to escape now, just hours from the great honour of bringing them home.