Читать книгу Christopher Dinsdale's Historical Adventures 4-Book Bundle - Christopher Dinsdale - Страница 9

The angry bantering of nearby squirrels brought Jesse back to the land of the living. He opened his weary eyes and blinked into the morning light. The slight movement of his body caused the squirrels on the branch above him to jump, then chatter at him in annoyance before scampering away. Groaning, he rolled onto his side. Jason, facing away, was lying next to him, his ribs gently rising up and down with each sleeping breath. He must have returned to camp in the middle of the night, thought Jesse. So…the vision quest was over. With their goal accomplished, Uncle Matthew would now lead them out of the woods, and Jesse would be back on a bus to Toronto by tomorrow.

For the first time all trip, Jesse wasn't eager to return home. Not only were his legs still tired from the hike in, but he really wanted to spend an extra day or two with his dad's family. Something was happening between the three of them. It was a sense of an extended family that had been missing in his life. Something his mother simply couldn't provide. It was a sense of male companionship and brotherly trust.

Jason stirred, so Jesse nudged him on the back. “Hey, Jason. How did it go last night?”

“Wha…?”

Suddenly, Jason threw his head around and faced him, his frightened eyes staring at him in disbelief.

“What's wrong?” asked Jesse, still waking up. “Do I have hot chocolate all over my face?”

Jason awkwardly crab-crawled away from him. It looked as if he had seen a ghost. “You…you're talking! This can't be happening!”

Jesse then noticed his face. The young man looked remarkably like Jason, but it was not him. Each cheek was marked with a jagged, charcoal line that angled down towards the back of his jaw. A worn, fur-lined blanket slid off his shoulders, exposing his muscular body. His legs were bare, and his lower half was covered only by a leather loincloth. His feet were bare.

With a sickening feeling growing in his stomach, Jesse looked down at his own feet. Instead of sweatpants and socks, he saw slender, golden legs that ended at a pair of elegant, ebony hooves.

“No!” shouted Jesse. “Wait! Don't be afraid!”

The young native man fiercely pointed a finger at him. “I know you! You are the one my grandfather told me about. Stay away!”

His grandfather? “What are you talking about?” asked Jesse, confused.

“I can tell by the white mark on your chest,” he accused. “It is shaped like a bolt of lightning, just as he described. During the hunt many years ago, you destroyed our deer pen by attacking us and leaping as no deer had ever done before!”

“Okay,” Jesse had to admit. “Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember trashing a deer pen a while ago.”

“It was you,” the young man growled.

Jesse shrugged inwardly. “But come on, that was a long time ago. And can you blame me for not wanting to be your grandfather's dinner? Tayna and I were just trying to escape.”

He shook his head violently. “No! You are a bringer of death and destruction! My people nearly ran out of food that winter because of what you did. You destroyed our trap, then vanished before their eyes. You are an animal spirit that must be avoided.”

“But I can't go yet,” said Jesse, thinking he must have just fallen asleep.

The young man's eyes narrowed into a wolf-like glare. “Then you are here to challenge me. I am not afraid of you!”

Suddenly, a knife appeared in his hand and he spun into a crouch, ready to pounce. Jesse gulped with fright. He backed up a step, wondering if he could escape with another mighty leap as he had in his earlier dream. But he realized that the hunter and knife were simply too close.

Suddenly, an idea came to him. He had to be about the same age as Jason. And he was out in the woods all by himself.

“Were you out here on your vision quest?” asked Jesse, trying to sound calm.

“Yes,” he answered, his eyes unblinking and cold. “It is my time of passage into adulthood. I was waiting for my sign, my guardian spirit, to come to me.”

“Well,” said Jesse, raising his head to look as majestic as possible, “That's me. I'm your guardian spirit.”

“You?” he cried in disbelief. “You cannot be my spirit. How can a spirit so destructive be sent to look over me? You are trying to trick me!”

“Wait! Your grandfather has it all wrong about me.”

“I don't believe you,” he growled.

“Just listen for a second,” said Jesse, thinking as quickly as he could. “Well…you know that female deer I rescued from your grandfather's pen?”

Jesse waited for a response. The hunter only squeezed his knife and took a step closer. Jesse gulped and again backed up.

“That deer was, uh, was very…very…sick. Yes, sick! If your people had eaten her, they would have had stomach cramps, been throwing up…It would not have been a pleasant sight, let me tell you. So I was sent by the Great Spirit to release the sick deer before your people made a terrible mistake by capturing and eating her.”

The knife lowered a fraction of an inch. “So the Great Spirit sent you to protect us?”

“Yes!” Jesse breathed, with a sigh of relief. “Exactly!”

“Couldn't the Great Spirit simply have kept her away from the hunt in the first place?”

Jesse looked up. “It is not my place to question the Great Spirit.”

“That is true,” the hunter muttered. “Forgive me, Great Spirit.”

“Me, too,” Jesse whispered quietly.

The hunter looked back at Jesse. “So you were only protecting my people. And now you have returned to look after me?”

“Yes.”

Jesse wondered if he was digging himself in even deeper. Who was he to tell this young man that he was a guardian spirit? And the line about the Great Spirit sending him to save the hunter's people from Tayna? But on the other hand, who is to say that this whole situation wasn't created by the Great Spirit in the first place? Perhaps he was supposed to be a guardian spirit. It would make about as much sense as everything else that had happened so far.

The one thing Jesse was sure of, however, was that this was all happening within a dream. The hunting knife pointing at his chest, however, looked very real. He remembered hearing that if you were killed in your dream, then you would also die in real life. Realizing the situation he was now in, he hoped that the saying was dead wrong.

Slowly, a look of horror crossed the young man's face. He dropped the knife onto the mossy carpet and collapsed, face first before Jesse's hooves.

“Forgive me, animal spirit! I did not mean to insult you with my reckless display of bravery. You have come from the Great Spirit to protect me and in return, I have insulted and attacked you. Please, do not be angry with me or my people. I ask for your forgiveness!”

Looking at the young man in front of him, Jesse felt his shoulders slump. Just moments ago, he was a fierce warrior ready to fight to the death with a powerful spiritual being. Now he was humbling himself in the dirt. Jesse was only a kid himself. This did not feel right at all.

“What's your name?” Jesse asked, softly.

“Iondaee,” he replied, not looking up.

“Stand up, Iondaee,” commanded Jesse, in his deepest voice. “You are a brave warrior. You faced me without hesitation, knife in hand. You have passed the test!”

Iondaee slowly raised his head, unsure of what he had just heard. “Test?”

Jesse felt a glimmer of hope. “Yes, a test. A test of courage. You were magnificent, by the way. Now, stand up and look at me like the brave warrior I know you are.”

Iondaee gave a half-smile, rose to his feet and lowered his head reverently. “Thank you for forgiving me, great deer spirit. You called me a warrior. Does that mean I am now ready to replace my father in the band council?”

Jesse was confused. “Replace your father?”

“Yes, surely you know about the great sickness of our people and the death of my father.”

Jesse moved uncomfortably. “Since escaping from your deer pen I…I have been travelling the world, helping others like you. I have only just returned to your area. Please, tell me what has happened while I was away.”

The hunter knelt down on the ground, the weight of his inner thoughts rounding his shoulders. “It has been a terrible fifteen years, great spirit. Much sadness has come to our people.”

Jesse lay down beside him. “What has happened?”

Iondaee picked up the knife and drew a map in the ground. “The white men, the French, came to live in the land of the Wendat five years after your escape from the pen. They brought us wonderful gifts of metal, such as this hunting blade. They wanted to trade with us. In exchange for furs, they would give us even more goods made from metal such as pots, tools and nails. Some neighbouring nations became envious of our growing wealth from trade with the French.”

“Hold it. I'm confused,” said Jesse. “Despite the other nations having a tinge of jealousy, it sounds like your people had a good life. Why the sadness?”

Iondaee looked away, his eyes misting. “The wealth has come at a terrible price. Since our first meeting with the French, a great sickness has ravaged our people. Many have died, mostly the young and old, including all of our elders. The dead also included my mother and father.”

“I'm sorry,” said Jesse.

Iondaee looked at him strangely. “They are now with you and the other spirits of your world. Why are you sorry?”

“I…I'm sorry that they are no longer here to guide you,” answered Jesse, flustered, not yet understanding the spiritual world to which he made himself a member. “Without your elders, how did your people manage to survive?”

“The survivors attempted to follow our customs and traditions as best as we could. But soon after the sickness began, the black robes, the leaders of the white man's God, came to our villages. They told us that my people had been stricken with sickness for not following the commandments of the white man's God. They said that the answer to our desperate situation was to live in their ways and to follow their direction. If we did as the black robes directed, then their God would protect us from further sickness.”

Jesse frowned. “What kind of directions did they give you?”

Iondaee's eyes narrowed. “To throw away our beliefs, our culture. They don't believe in the Sacred Circle, that all things in this world are sacred and interconnected. They tell us that humans have been given this world and that all living creatures are beneath us, to be consumed. That is wrong. Humans are weak. We depend on the plants, animals, water and air for life. How can humans think they are so powerful when it takes so little to destroy us?”

Jesse thought about the pollution, deforestation and extinctions that lay ahead for humans in the future. “You are right about everything, Iondaee. We do depend on the world. Is that what the black robes wanted? For you to give up your culture?”

“That, and more. They needed our hands, as well. With so many of our warriors dead from disease, the black robes were afraid of an invasion by our powerful enemy to the south, the Iroquois. The Iroquois dislike the French because the French refuse to trade with them. The black robes told us to help them build what they called a fort. The fort is now finished. It is a huge, protected village with tall walls and even guns to help defend it against attack. The fort was completed ten years ago.”

Jesse looked around nervously. The idea of a nearby fort with armed men worried him. A deer would make for good target practice.

“How close is this fort?”

He pointed down the creek with his knife. “Ste. Marie is a day's walk north towards the Great Water.”

“And that's where you and your people live, in this fort?”

Iondaee shook his head. “No. Ste. Marie is only for the black robes and the other French. My nation lives in many large and small villages throughout this area. My village is further up this creek. That is where I stay.”

Jesse was confused. “And how do the black robes communicate with you if you don't live in Ste. Marie?”

Iondaee frowned. “They come to us. We listen, but we do not believe. Others, however, do. They have divided our nation into Christians and traditionalists. We are now a diseased and divided people. We are no longer strong.”

At least Jesse now knew where he was in time. He remembered from his pioneer unit at school that Ste. Marie had been built a long time ago, even before Canada was a country. His uncle had mentioned it as well during the hike. He couldn't remember how long ago it was built or what had eventually happened to the famous site. Jesse shrugged. That information wasn't really important. But while he was having this dream, he might as well have some fun and explore.

“I would like to see your village.”

Iondaee was shocked. “You would come into my village? But you are a spirit. You cannot be seen by anyone else but me.”

Jesse tried his best deer smile. “Your hunters all saw me in the deer pen fifteen years ago, remember? I guess you might say that I am a special kind of spirit, a spirit for everyone.”

Iondaee thought for a moment, then grinned with excitement. “Let me go back to the village first. If anyone dared to shoot at you by mistake…I could not imagine the fury of the forest spirits. Please, stay here. I will return shortly. A spirit coming to our village for all to see! What an uplifting sign this will be for our people!”

Before Jesse could reply, Iondaee was up and running along the edge of the creek. Jesse figured Iondaee would be a while. He looked around. He noticed that the area in which Iondaee had been meditating was almost like a large island, and it reminded Jesse of a castle moat. The creek did a partial circle around the area, with only a small neck of land, about a metre wide, bridging the gap to the rest of the forest.

Jesse knew from geography that such a curve in a creek or river is called a meander. In time, the creek would work its way through the remaining bit of land with the ends of the curves eventually silting up and cutting off the meander from the creek altogether.

While he waited, he decided to help nature out by digging at the remaining land with his hoof. He quickly found out that a hoof made a terrible shovel. He had barely made a dent in the land bridge when the panting warrior returned from his run.

“The village is overjoyed that you will be coming to visit. But I don't even know your name, oh great spirit.”

Jesse gingerly stepped out of the creek. “My name is Jesse.”

“Jesse?” repeated Iondaee, confused. “I have never heard of such a name for a spirit.”

“Please, Iondaee, think of me more as a friend than a spirit. I think it will work out better for both of us that way.”

Iondaee was stunned. “A friend to a spirit of the forest? This is a great honour!”

Jesse started walking along the path Iondaee had taken. “Well, let's go see the village.”

“Wait. Before I go, I would like to do something in your honour.” Iondaee removed his knife. “This is my valued hunting knife. This is the knife that I was going to use to attack you when you first appeared. As of now, I never want to see it again.”

Iondaee moved to the centre point of the meander. He used the tip of the sharp knife to cut into the ground. Then, using his knife and fingers, he dug a hole. He gently lowered the knife into the ground with both hands and buried it. Finally, he placed a large flat rock on top of the freshly dug hole.

“May this be a symbol to you of my shame. I attacked my very own guardian spirit. This knife will never be used again to harm the creatures of this forest.”

“Thank you,” said Jesse, touched, but unsure of what else to say. “Shall we go see your village?”

Iondaee smiled and nodded. Jesse was having a feeling of déjà-vu as they rounded the bend in the creek and climbed a lush hill. This area seemed so familiar. It was then that he remembered the path they were on was exactly the same path he and his uncle had taken to their campsite! If that was the case, thought Jesse, then over this next hill should be…

As they reached the summit, Jesse stopped in awe. The ancient mounds that his father and uncle had discovered could no longer be seen. In their place was a village which Jesse could never have imagined! Around the village, in the cleared, fertile ground, were magnificent gardens of vegetables. The vegetables were arranged in small circular links, with the centre of each link being occupied by immature stalks of corn. Growing up and around the stalks were vines of bean plants. Then, protecting the bean and corn plants from hungry rodents, were circular bases of prickly squash.

The village was surrounded by four oval-shaped walls of sharpened sticks that rose at least three metres into the air. The stockades were supported with heaps of dirt that had been piled along the base of each wall. Between the sticks themselves, smaller branches and bark were woven in order to give the wall strength and support. Several watch towers made of large logs were located just inside the wall perimeter. Jesse guessed the towers were to help spot the enemy in the woods before an attack occurred.

Behind the wall were ten large curved structures. Their shapes reminded Jesse of the greenhouses he and his mother would visit during gardening season. He had seen pictures of them in his school textbooks. Longhouses. They were breathtakingly huge! Jesse guessed that the largest one in the centre of the village could easily hold a hundred people and was about the length of three basketball courts end-to-end. The other longhouses on either side could probably hold half as many people. The structures themselves were covered in layers of bark. Around and in between the longhouses were numerous small, bark lean-tos protecting what appeared to be bedding.

Iondaee pointed. “This is our Canada.”

Jesse looked at him in surprise. “Canada?”

“Yes, Canada—our village.”

“Do you mean to tell me the word Canada means village in Wendat language?”

“Yes, of course. Does the word Canada have a different meaning to the spirits?”

Jesse laughed. “I'm not sure about the other spirits, but it does to this one.”

A young boy in the village saw them and screamed with delight. Suddenly, waves of people left their camp-sites and ran to the small entrance in the defensive walls which led through the gardens and into the village. Jesse gulped as Iondaee proudly led them down the hill and into the pandemonium. They made only slow progress as they gently pushed their way through the wall of women and children lining the entranceway. Jesse had to yell into Iondaee's ear to be heard over the commotion.

“I don't see any men in the village.”

Iondaee looked at him suspiciously. “You, of all spirits, should know that most of the men hunt during the warm season for winter meat. The other warriors are scouring the forests for Iroquois scouts. The women, meanwhile, tend to the harvesting of plants and the raising of children. You truly are a strange spirit.”

Jesse ignored the remark. “You are a young man, a warrior. Why are you not out with the other men?”

Iondaee's face dropped. “The women demanded that I stay and help protect them from enemy scouts and wild animals. They have the power to do this. It is also the first step in their method of choosing a chief.”

“You mean the women choose the chief? Don't the men have any say?”

Iondaee shook his head. “The women control the children, and therefore they control the men. The men do whatever the women tell them to do, including when to choose a new chief! Although the black robes have been demanding that the men start making all the decisions for our people, I feel that the ways of our ancestors must be respected.”

Jesse was curious about this women-run world, but those thoughts were lost in the screams, shouts and pushing of the villagers. They giggled with excitement as they touched his fur, then squealed in fright as they snapped their hands back, afraid of actually touching the famous “Spirit of the Deer Trap”. No one could believe such a magnificent forest animal would simply stroll into their village without any sense of fear. What a mighty spirit this deer must be!

Jesse tried to play the part of a powerful spirit. He held his head high and took slow, yet smooth steps. The frenzied crowd parted as they pushed their way through. So this is what it must be like to be a rock star, thought Jesse. A little claustrophobic, but not too bad at all!

“Thank you. Thank you, everyone!” He leaned down to look into the eyes of a young girl. “Hey, what's your name?”

The little girl smiled shyly at him but said nothing. Jesse then turned to a pretty woman with waist-length black hair. In her arms was a newborn baby. “You have a beautiful baby. How old is he?”

She simply stared at him in awe. Jesse looked at his friend.

“Hey, Iondaee! I don't think these people understand what I'm saying.”

Iondaee shook his head. “I don't think they do either. I guess with you being my guardian, only I can hear your voice. To them, you are a majestic, but silent, spirit.”

The woman with the baby stepped closer, not taking her wide eyes off Jesse. “Can you really talk to this great deer spirit, Iondaee?”

“Jesse, this is my wife, Shecu, and my son, Amantachu.”

“Hello,” said Jesse, not sure why he bothered to speak, since they couldn't hear him, but he figured Iondaee would appreciate the effort.

“He greets you,” Iondaee translated.

She blushed, “It is a great honour for a spirit to visit our humble village.”

Jesse tried to reply as a great spirit should. “The honour is mine. I can see that you and your people live in peace and happiness. I am very pleased.”

Iondaee translated, and the whole village murmured in excitement. This was wonderful news. Even though they were living against the wishes of the Jesuits at Ste. Marie, the spirits of the forest were pleased with them. Everyone began to celebrate by dancing and shouting for joy. Even Jesse got into the festive mood by prancing to the beat of the singing and nodding his head.

Suddenly, a fiery pain erupted from his neck. Jesse screamed. He collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain. When the people saw their spirit collapse, they screamed in fear. Iondaee, the hunter, had seen everything. His eye had caught the streaking movement of an arrow as it grazed Jesse's neck, now embedded at the foot of a log supporting the nearby longhouse. It took only a moment for him to determine where the arrow had originated. He wheeled around and stared back towards the hill. A warrior rose from his knees and ran towards the village, drawing another arrow on his bow and again taking aim at the wounded great stag.

Iondaee threw himself in front of Jesse, shielding him. “No!”

“Iondaee!” shouted the warrior. “Get out of the way! Why are you protecting that crazy beast? He's terrorizing the village!”

“Asitari, no!” Iondaee commanded. “Don't shoot! You have made a terrible mistake!”

The people were still screaming in fear as Asitari entered the village. “What is happening here? I was coming to tell our people to evacuate to Taenhatenaron when I saw everyone panicking. Has this animal killed someone?”

“You do not know what you have done,” said Iondaee, angrily. “It was not panic, it was a celebration. Jesse, are you alright?”

Iondaee put his hand on the jagged neck wound. When he removed it, his hand was crimson with blood. Jesse, no longer stunned by the shock and pain, staggered back onto his hooves. His neck was in agony. It felt as if someone had placed a white, hot poker against the skin of his neck. He glared at his assailant, who was still confused by the entire situation. Iondaee was trying to explain what had happened when several furious women began hitting the confused warrior over the head with dried cobs of corn.

“Jesse!”

Jesse looked to Iondaee, but the voice was not his. It was familiar and it was coming from the forest.

“Jesse, wake up!”

There, beyond the village gate, was a white light glowing in the distance. Home. Jesse knew he needed to get to the light as quickly as possible.

“I have to go,” he managed to whisper.

Iondaee, now caught in the middle of the chaos as more and more women and children began to assault the poor warrior, didn't hear him. Jesse was beyond the village gate by the time Iondaee had noticed that Jesse was gone. The warrior pushed his way through the crowd and ran to the gate, but the deer was moving far too quickly for him to catch up.

“Jesse! Wait! Come back! We must apologize!”

Jesse turned his head in mid-stride. “I'm sorry, but I have to go!”

And the great stag vanished before Iondaee's eyes.