It was the smaller who spoke first. ‘If these birds attack us, Tawane, I will shoot the plover with its strange plumage to the left, and you the one to the right. Through the eye. We will see whose arrow flies more true.’
The other warrior grunted. This close Anne and Tagay could clearly see the complexity of the black lines that covered him. One was a detailed drawing of a diamond-backed snake that curled up from the base of his neck, a forked tongue reaching from fanged jaws to encircle the left eye. ‘Why would you end the sport so swiftly, Sadagae? Why do we not see how many arrows we can use before each die?’
As the first man hesitated, the man he’d called Tawane fitted an arrow to his string. ‘A beaver skin on it,’ he said. ‘Look, I think they are going to attack now.’
He raised his bow.
It was then that Tagay, pulling Anne tightly behind his back, spoke. His voice wavered, belying a little the defiance of his words.
‘Is this how you treat a Bear who only seeks to celebrate his clan’s victory? I call that being a bad loser, Black Snake.’
The tattooed man stared along the length of his arrow, the point never wavering. ‘How is it you speak the language of the people, and know my name, when you dress in the skins of the Pale Thieves?’
The exchange had allowed the rest of the people to catch up with the warriors. A huge semi-circle of men and women had swiftly formed and a group of elders had moved through to stand beneath the oak branch.
One of them stepped before the others. He was the oldest there, judging by the wrinkles on his face. But a broad, muscled chest showed through the layers of beads and shells that hung from his neck, and his grey hair was thick, oiled and set in two rolls above his ears. His raised hand brought an instant silence to the throng and he spoke slowly into that silence, his voice measured and deep.
‘We know you are war chief of the Wolf clan, Black Snake. But does that give you the right to kill all prisoners for your own pleasure and deprive us of ours?’
Tawane, ‘Black Snake’, did not lower his bow, but his eyes flicked toward the elder. ‘I seek only to end the threat of this spy, Tododaho. He may be one of the enemy who seek our lands, may he not?’
‘He may. Though I think he would be a very foolish enemy to come among us and shout for the Bear clan in the game. But it is for us to judge threats together, Tawane, not for you to act alone. Lower your bow.’
For a moment, it looked like the warrior might disobey. If anything the string of the weapon drew closer to his body. Then something close to a smile came to his face, and he slowly released the string’s tension.
‘Tododaho has spoken. And I, of course, agree with his wisdom, famous for so many years among the people.’
Even Anne, who had struggled to follow the swift speaking of the tribesmen, could hear the measured sarcasm in the voice.
Tagay turned to her and whispered, ‘Tododaho! It means “Tangled”. My uncle, Donnaconna spoke of this man, as did my mother.’
Chief Tangled cleared his throat. ‘Stranger, you perhaps do not know our ways. But you do not talk in low voice at our meetings. Especially when you have just been spared – for the moment – from death.’
Tagay bowed his head. ‘I mean no disrespect. And it is true, there are many ways of the people that I am ignorant of. My mother, Sonosase and my uncle, Donnaconna did not have time to teach me everything before they went to the Village of the Dead.’
Whispering may have been frowned upon at meetings, but nothing could stop the buzz that arose at his statement. It only ended when a woman, as old as the Chief, clad in a heavily beaded deerskin dress, stepped forward.
Looking directly at Tangled, she said, ‘Brother, if he speaks true, then he is the son of my sister, as he is the son of your brother. She was with child by him before he went to the Village of the Dead, and she was stolen with Donnaconna and taken across the Great Water. If he speaks true, then he is one of the Hunters of the Sunrise.’
The uproar that arose at this statement, contending voices mocking or approving, took a long while to quell. Finally, when a near silence had settled, Tangled looked up again to the tree.
‘Young man, my neck is old and it does not like this looking up. Come down.’
Tagay and Anne descended. Such were the numbers pressing in that the crowd was ordered by the elders to move back to the game field. Soon the two of them stood in the centre of a tightly packed circle at least two thousand strong. Anne could see that sides had already formed. Those gathered around the tattooed warrior, Black Snake, had expressions of contempt, of disbelief, their arms folded before them. Others, near Chief Tangled and the woman in the dress, looked more curious than hostile. Anne was a little surprised to see the other bowman, the smaller ball player, among this group.
‘Now,’ said Chief Tangled, as a general silence settled, ‘how can we know that you are who you say?’
Tagay swallowed, his mouth desperately dry. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. As the silence lengthened, they strayed around to his back, settling finally on the pouch at his belt. He felt the hardness within it and, reaching in, he pulled out the obsidian stone.
‘I am Tagaynearguye. My uncle gave me this,’ he said, holding it up.
The old woman, who had stepped forward in shock, now came and took the stone from Tagay, examining it carefully. Then turning to look at Chief Tangled, she nodded. He raised his arms again and a fractured silence came.
‘My sister, Gaka, recognizes the Oki. She will speak.’
There was an instant growl. Black Snake stepped forward, his eyes furious. ‘Are we become like our enemies, the Tribe of the Great Hill, that we allow women to speak in our council?’
‘You will have a chance to have your say, Black Snake. And we are not in the lodge house but at the celebration of the Game. Gaka was Donnaconna’s favourite sister. She will know how true or false this young man is.’
To more mutterings, Black Snake stepped back.
‘This is the stone that Donnaconna, my brother, took from the huge fish he slew on the edge of the Lake that Shimmers. I would never forget it. I dreamt of it for the last three days and on the fourth it appears.’
She raised it to the sky, squinting up at it. ‘Welcome home, brother,’ she said, then looked down again. ‘You all have learnt to trust my dreams. This is a sign. A Hunter of the Sunrise has returned to help us in our danger. I have spoken.’
She stepped back. Immediately, barely waiting for a signal, Black Snake spoke. ‘You see what you want to see, hear what pleases you. It is not dreams that will save us from the Tribe of the Great Hill, it is warriors like myself, of the Wolf clan and all the other clans. My enemies’ scalps adorn my lodge pole. You look at me and you see a warrior. You only have to look at him to see he has not come to manhood but is still a boy. His hair is like a moose tail, unkempt and in no style.’ He ran his hand down his own head, where the hair was cut into a single ridge in the centre, reaching down to his neck, the sides shaved. ‘You can judge him by his woman too, who is dirty and weak-looking and who no other man would take because her hips are too thin to bear sons.’ He paused and looked around the crowd, seeking and receiving approval there. ‘How can he prove he is who he says? Maybe he stole this stone. Maybe he has heard its legends and comes as a pretender. We need no strangers to answer our danger. Let us kill him now and swiftly.’ He glanced slowly around the crowd, then concluded, ‘I have spoken.’
A babble of voices rose but it was Gaka’s that topped them all. ‘You too were a stranger, Black Snake, and a member of that same tribe who threatens us now and as covered in blue lines as they are. We adopted you when we captured you, as is sometimes our custom, because you were young and Small Stream needed a new husband when hers did not return from war. Even though you were ugly beyond belief and still are. And it was not a dream that Donnaconna went over the water with that Pale Thief captain. It was said that he or one of the Hunters of the Sunrise would return in our time of
need. Is this not our time of need? Are we so safe that we will turn away from the favour of the Gods? I have spoken.’
Before Black Snake could reply, his ball game rival spoke.
‘I am Sada, the Even-Tempered, and I favour my aunt’s opinion. If this is the son of Sonosase, then he is my cousin and also of the clan of the Bear, who gained such a triumph today at the Game. So if you would kill him, Black Snake of the Wolf clan, you must first kill me. And as on the field, I will elude your war club. I will shoot between the posts of your eyes. I have spoken.’
The warrior called Even-Tempered had walked toward Black Snake as he spoke, till they were face to face, unblinking. The roar that followed his words, the biggest yet, was nevertheless silenced by Chief Tangled raising his arms.
‘It is true what all speak here. It is a time of great danger and all new things must be thought of in that light. But if this is one of the Hunters of the Sunrise, who went away with Donnaconna and promised to return in our great need then we have to know it. But …’ He stepped toward Tagay, who had followed the argument with alternating fear and yearning. ‘Black Snake is right in this. You look like a boy. You have not become a man yet and we have already mourned for your death, the death of all who went to hunt the sunrise. So, before you can become one of the people, you must be born once more. You must become a man. Your clan will see to this.’ Tangled lowered his voice then, but its deep richness still carried. ‘And since we have gathered all our peoples to discuss the smoke that has swallowed so many of our villages, we will also discuss this matter at the great council after all the games have been played. If Tagay is ready, he will be born once more, and we will listen to his words there. If not, we will decide then. Let us go now, back to the village to feast, where the meat will be ready in the kettles. Is it agreed?’
To a universal shout of ‘Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ahum!’ the crowd began separating out and moving back through the trees to the cliffs, the stronger carrying the elders in woven frames. Only a few did not move – Anne, Tagay, and the aunt and cousin he’d just found. Also Black Snake, who paused a dozen paces away, waited till Tagay looked, then drew a clenched fist slowly over his head as if it held a knife. Then he too headed toward the cliffs, a dozen warriors closing round him.
When the last of them had disappeared into the canopy of oak, Tagay’s knees gave way and he sank onto the ground.
‘It seems you have made a blood enemy, nephew.’ The beads on her dress clinked together as his aunt moved around to stand in front of him.
‘He likes his word to be the law.’ Sada came to stand beside her. ‘You saw how he resented obeying Tangled in this. If he becomes war chief …’ He broke off and stared in the direction the tattooed man had taken, both anger and concern in his eyes.
‘I thought he was already,’ Tagay said tentatively.
‘Only of the Wolf clan. But he seeks the office for the whole of the Tahontaenrat, the Deer people, empty now since He Who Sleeps was killed defending his village. And there are many who want him, who see his anger as our best war shield. Well,’ Gaka sighed, ‘we will know soon enough. For like all other matters it will be settled at the great council, when the moon is at greatest fatness.’
When it is full. Anne remembered that the moon had been new two days before.
‘So that will be in … twelve days?’ she said.
‘Yes, child. So many sunrises …’ She broke off, stared hard at Anne as if beholding some wonder, then continued. ‘Twelve is the limit Tangled has allowed for Tagay to be born once more as one of the Deer people.’
‘Also as a true brother of the Bear clan,’ Sada said. ‘I will see to both.’
‘Will you also teach me to play the Game with the skill you showed today, cousin?’
It was the first time since they’d reached his land that Anne had seen even the shade of a smile appear on Tagay’s lips.
The shorter warrior tipped his head back and let out a huge laugh. ‘In ten days? I think you would take ten years and never learn my skill. Some people have gifts directly from the Gods. I am one and I think you must just be content to watch and wonder.’
Skilled though he was, he didn’t see the blow coming that caught him on his ear. ‘Arrogant dog! You get that from your father! For Tangled was a good player of the Game and knew it all too well when he was a young man.’ Gaka shook her finger at him as he rubbed his ear. ‘Will Blessed-by-the-Gods deign to bend then and carry me, like the moose he is, down the cliff?’
As the grumbling warrior bent, Tagay stepped forward. ‘I will carry you, Aunt, if you will let me.’
She slowly ran her eyes up and down his body. ‘Your knees look weak, Tagay, and the way is steep. Can you bear me?’
‘I have spent a long time on a boat crossing the big water, and I am a little weakened. But I grow in strength every day.’
‘You will need to grow, if you are to be born by the Moon. There is much you will need to learn and there is very little time.’
‘Then let me begin now by carrying my aunt down the cliff.’
She shook her head and sighed, then moved towards him. ‘I will let you, though Sada’s legs look the stouter. But as we go down to the village you will tell me how a woman of the Pale Thieves comes to speak our language, although with the accent of a crow, and why you have brought her here. And you will tell me also of the Hunt for the Sunrise and of my brother, Donnaconna, and your mother, Sonosase.’
‘These are many stories, Aunt, and they will take a long time to tell.’
‘By the look of your legs, it will be a long journey down and so we will have that time. Come.’
Tagay bent. Sada helped their aunt onto his back. She felt so light, Tagay was suddenly conscious of her great age. But light as she was, he remembered well the steepness of the climb up the cliffs. Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward, toward the path that led, not only down to the village but to the rebirth he sought. And as he walked, he began to speak.
TWO
FIRE STICK
This New World looks even stranger upside down.
Twisting slightly, Thomas Lawley glanced down the line of seven of which he made up the end member. Three of the sailors from the Breath of St Etienne had sunk into a merciful unconscious ness. The one beside him, Angeleme, was still weeping, the tears mingling with the blood that flowed freely from a head wound. At the far end but one, the old sail maker, Fronchard, was mouthing prayers between broken teeth. And at the very end, the last man was using the sudden disappearance of their tattooed captors to sway and test the strength of the woven reeds that held him, like all the others, by his ankles to the branch.
Gianni Rombaud. The man whose latest action, in a long line of foolhardy ones, had led them directly to this futile death. Thomas knew he should try to suppress any anger. He didn’t want to die angry. All this had still to be the Lord’s will. Though he had hoped the Lord would have spared him long enough in this New World to emulate the Jesuit heroes he adored, like Francis Xavier who had gone to the East and brought the love of Jesus to the native, to the real ‘Indian’ of which their tattooed tormentors were just shadows.
Well, he thought, others will follow me. Some will die but a few will eventually succeed. And this land will be claimed for Jesus.
He closed his eyes, began to pray. He didn’t even open them when laughter and footfalls on the path told him their captors were returning. He needed to concentrate completely on the word of God. Agony would force his eyes open soon enough.
‘Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.’
Gianni stopped swaying as soon as he heard the snapping of twigs. The blood that filled his head seemed to find an outlet through his nose and he blew it now to allow air to flow. He needed to breathe to be able to speak; and that was all he could do, for there was no escape from the Indians’ bonds.
He was relieved to see that the man who spoke some French, whose intended kidnapping was the reason for the attack he’d just led to disaster, had com
e back with the others, equally laden down with branches of dry wood. He was a little older, smaller, had a pot belly and short legs, and his thin hair did not make the same magnificent tuft that flowed from the centre of the others’ shaved heads and down their backs. His barely reached his neck.
The warriors dropped the wood directly under the hanging heads and proceeded to build a little pyre under each one, cracking branches into kindling, filling gaps with leaves and dry moss. Most chattered the while, their impenetrable tongue rising and falling in its strange cadence. One warrior was silent. Younger than the rest, less covered in blue lines and patterns, he carried a sharp, short stick and spent less time building the pyres. Instead, he went up to each of the hanging Frenchmen and stuck the stick into them in different parts of their necks and faces, obviously enjoying the flow of blood, the cries of pain. Since Angeleme was also the youngest of his party, and wept the most, this Indian spent most time by him.
Another man also did not help in the building. Gianni thought he had not been of the initial party that had captured them, though he found it hard to tell the brutes apart. This one seemed older and, by the way he was deferred to and did no work, was obviously the leader. He wore leggings of deer skin, fringed with tassels, unlike the aprons of the others. His upper body was similarly bare but the tattoos that adorned it were more elaborately patterned and made up of a greater variety of dyes. Held against his chest were two pistols. One was Gianni’s own; the other had belonged to another of the sailors. Both had been fired in the lost fight on the beach.
As he watched, the leader called over the one who had some French and spoke rapidly, gesturing with the guns, which he held by the barrel, to the hanging men. The man bowed, then moved over to Gianni. The other warriors stopped fire building to watch, all save the silent one who was still delighting in thrusting his stick into the ears of the weeping young sailor, Angeleme.