CHAPTER XXVI
The stillness of death pervaded the great lodge of the Oneidas, andyet it was not vacant. But Black Eagle sat in the outer chamber alone.With no eye to see him, with none to mark the traces of those emotionswhich the Indian so carefully conceals from observation, he gave way,in a degree, at least, to feelings which, however sternly hidden fromothers, wrought powerfully in his own heart. His bright blue andscarlet apparel, feathers and belt, medals and armlets, were thrownaside, and with his head bowed, his face full of gloomy sadness, andall the strong muscles of his beautifully proportioned figure relaxed,he sat like an exquisite figure sculptured in porphyry. No tear,indeed, bedewed his eyelids; no sigh escaped his lips; but the veryattitude bespoke sorrow, and there was something awfully sad in theperfect, unvarying stillness of his form.
Oh! what a terrible strife was going on within! Grief is ten timesmore terrible to those who concentrate it in the heart than to thosewho pour it forth upon the wide air.
The door of the lodge opened. He started, and instantly was himselfagain; the head upright, the face clear, the aspect calm anddignified.
"Where hast thou been, my child?" asked the chief, gazing on hisdaughter as she entered, with feeling mingled of a thousand strongemotions--parental love, fond admiration, and manifold memories.
"Where thou hast permitted me to go, my father," she answered, with asmile so bland and sweet that a momentary suspicion crossed herfather's mind.
"Thou hast not forgot thy promise, my Blossom?" he said, in a tone asstern as he ever used to her.
"Oh, no, my father," answered Otaitsa; "didst thou ever know me to doso? To see him--to be with him in his long captivity--to move the rockbetween us, and to let some light into his dark lodge. I promised, ifthou wouldst let me stay with him a few short hours each day, I woulddo naught, try naught for his escape. Otaitsa has not a double tonguefor her own father. Is Black Eagle's eye dim, that it cannot see hischild's heart? Her heart is in his hand."
"How fares the boy?" asked her father. "Is there sunshine with him, ora cloud?"
"Sunshine," said Otaitsa, simply. "He sat and talked of death. It mustbe very happy."
The chief gazed at her silently for a few moments, and then asked:"Does he think so, too?"
"He makes me think so," answered the Blossom; "must it not be happywhere there is no weeping, no slaughter, no parting of dear friendsand lovers, where a Saviour and Redeemer is ever ready to mediate evenfor those who do such deeds?"
"The Great Spirit is good," answered Black Eagle, thoughtfully. "Thehappy hunting grounds are ever ready for those who die bravely inbattle."
"For those who do good," said Otaitsa, with a sigh; "for those whospare their enemies, and show mercy--for those who obey even the voiceof God in their own hearts, and are merciful and forgiving to theirfellow men."
Black Eagle smiled. "A woman's religion," he said. "Why should Iforgive my enemies? The voice of God you speak of, in my heart,teaches me to kill them; for if I did not, they would kill me."
"Not if they were Christians, too," said Otaitsa. "The voice of Godtells all men to spare each other, to love each other; and if everyoneobeyed it, there would be no such thing as enemies. All would befriends and brethren."
Black Eagle mused for a moment or two, and then answered: "But thereare enemies, and therefore I must kill them."
"That is because men obey the voice of the evil spirit, and not thatof the good," replied the Blossom. "Will my father do so? Black Eaglehas the voice of the Good Spirit in his heart. He loves children, heloves his friends, he spares women, and has taught the Oneidas tospare them. All this comes from the the voice of the Good Spirit. Willhe not listen to it farther?"
Her father remained lost in thought, and believing that she hadcarried something, Otaitsa went on to the point nearest to her heart."The Black Eagle is just," she said; "he dispenses equity between manand man. Is it either just, or does it come from the voice of the GoodSpirit, that he should slay one who has done good, and not harm; thathe should kill a man for another man's fault? Even if it be permittedto him to slay an enemy, is it permitted to slay a friend? If the lawsof the Oneidas are unjust, if they teach faithlessness to one whotrusted them, if they are contrary to the voice of the Good Spirit, isnot Black Eagle a great chief who can change them, and teach hischildren better things?"
Her father started up, and waved his hand impatiently. "No more!" hesaid; "no more! When I hear the voice of the Good Spirit, and know it,I will obey it; but our laws came from him, and I will abide by thesayings of our fathers."
As he spoke he strode to the door of the lodge and gazed forth, whileOtaitsa wept in silence. She saw that it was in vain to plead farther,and gliding up to her father's side she touched his arm reverentlywith her hand.
"My father," she said, "I give thee back the permission to see him,and I take back my promise. Otaitsa will not deceive her father; butthe appointed hour is drawing on, and she will save her husband if shecan. She has laid no plan with him; she has found no scheme; she hasnot spoken to him of safety or escape. She has deceived Black Eagle innothing, and she now tells him that she will shrink from no way tosave her brother Walter--no, not even from death itself!"
"Koui! koui!" said the chief, in a tone of profound melancholy. "Thoucanst do nothing." Then, raising his head suddenly, he added: "Go, mydaughter; it is well. If thy mother has made thee soft and tender as aflower, thy father has given thee the courage of the eagle. Go inpeace; do what thou canst; but thou wilt fail!"
"Then will I die!" said Otaitsa; and gliding past him, she sought herway through the huts.
The first door she stopped at was partly covered with strangepaintings in red and blue colors, representing, in somewhat grotesqueforms, men and animals, and flowers. She entered at once, withouthesitation, and found, seated in the dim twilight, before a largefire, the old chief who had spoken last at the council of the chiefs,in the glen. His ornaments bespoke a chief of high degree, and severaldeep scars in his long, meager limbs showed that he had been known inthe battlefield. He did not even look round when Blossom entered, butstill sat gazing at the flickering flame, without the movement of alimb or feature. Otaitsa seated herself before him, and gazed at hisface in silence, waiting for him to speak. At the end of not less thanfive minutes he turned his head a little, looked at her, and asked:"What would the Blossom of the old Cedar Tree?"
"I would take counsel with wisdom," said the girl. "I would hear thevoice of the warrior who is just, and the great chief who is merciful.Let him whom my mother reverenced most, after her husband, among thechildren of the Stone, speak words of comfort to Otaitsa."
Then, in language which, in rich imagery, and even in peculiarities ofstyle, had a striking resemblance to the Hebrew writings, she pouredforth to him all the circumstances of Walter's capture, and of theirlove and plighted faith; and, with the same arguments which we haveseen already used, she tried to convince him of the wrong andinjustice done to her lover.
The old man listened with the usual appearance of apathy, but thebeautiful girl before him gathered that he was much moved at heart, bythe gradual bending down of his head, till his forehead nearly touchedhis knees.
When she ceased, he remained silent for several moments, according totheir custom, and then raised his head and answered: "How can the oldCedar Tree help thee?" he asked. "His boughs are withered, and thesnows of more than seventy winters have bent them down. His roots areshaken in the ground, and the first blast of the tempest will lay himlow. But the law of the Oneidas is in his heart; he cannot change itor pervert it. By thine own saying, it is clear that the Good Spiritwill do nothing to save this youth. The young warrior is the firstthey lay hands on. No means have been found for his escape. Nopaleface has come into the Oneida land who might be made to take hisplace. All thine efforts to rescue him have been seeds that bore nofruit. Did the Good Spirit wish to save him, he would provide a means.I have no counsel, and my heart is dead, for I loved thy mother as achild. She was
to me as the evening star, coming from afar to shineupon the nights of my days. But I have no way to help her child, nowords to give her comfort. Has not the Black Eagle a sister, who lovedthy mother well, who has seen well nigh as many winters as I have, andwho has a charm from the Great Spirit? Her lodge is even now filledwith wise women of the tribe, taking counsel together as to thismatter of the young chief. All love him well, except the dark and evilHonontkoh; all would save him, whether man or woman of the nation,were not the law of the Oneida against him. Go to her lodge, then, andwith her take counsel, for the Cedar Tree is without words."
The lodge of Black Eagle's sister was next in size and importance tothat of the chief himself, and on it, too, some European skill hadbeen expended. Though on a somewhat smaller scale, it was very muchsuch another building as that which has been described by a writer ofthose days as the "Palace of King Hendrick," the celebrated chief ofthe Mohawks. In a word, "It had the appearance of a good barn, dividedacross by a mat hung in the middle." It was of but one story, however;but the workman who had erected it, a good many years before, on thereturn from the completion of Fort Oswego, had added a door ofEuropean form, with a latch and a brass knob, which greatly increasedits dignity in the eyes of the tribe.
The possessor of this mansion, who was held in great reverence allthrough the Oneida nation, and was supposed to hold communication withthe spiritual world, had obtained, I know not how, the name of theGray Dove, although her features by no means displayed thecharacteristic meekness of the bird from which she derived herappellation, but bore a considerable resemblance to those of herbrother, which certainly well accorded with his name.
When Otaitsa approached the door she found it fastened, and sheknocked twice with her hand before it was opened. A young girl thenpeeped out, and seeing the sachem's daughter, gave her admission atonce into the outer apartment. The space on the outer side of thelarge mat which formed the partition was vacant, but there was amurmur of voices coming from the division beyond, and a light shonethrough the crevices between the mat and the wall.
The feelings of Otaitsa's heart were too powerful to leave anytimidity in her bosom, and although she shared in some degree thefeelings of awe with which the other Oneidas regarded the Gray Dove,she advanced at once, drew back the corner of the mat, and entered thechamber beyond. The scene was neither of a very beautiful nor of avery solemn character, but nevertheless there was something verystriking in it. Seated around a large fire in the middle were a numberof the elder women of the tribe, whose faces and forms, once, perhaps,fair and lovely, had lost almost every trace of beauty. But theirfeatures were strongly marked, and had in many instances a stern andalmost fierce expression. Their eyes, jetty black, and in most casesas brilliant as in early youth, shone in the light of the fire likediamonds, and in many an attitude and gesture appeared much of thatgrace which lingers longer with people accustomed to a free andunconfined life than with those of rigid and conventional habits.
Outside of the first and elder circle sat a number of the youngerwomen, from fifteen or sixteen years of age up to five or six andtwenty. Many of them were exceedingly beautiful, but the figures oftheir elder companions shaded them mostly from the glare of the fire,and it was only here and there that one of those countenances could bediscovered which offer in many of the Indian tribes fit models forpainter or sculptor. Seated, not on the ground, like the rest, but ona small settle at the farther side of the inner circle, appeared BlackEagle's sister, gorgeously dressed, almost entirely in crimson, witharmlets and bracelets of gold, and innumerable glittering ornamentsround her neck. She was much older than her brother, and her hair,almost as white as snow, was knotted up behind on the ordinary roller,without any decoration. Her features were aquiline, and much moreprominent than those of Black Eagle, and her eyes were still keen andbright. The moment they lighted upon Otaitsa, the exclamation burstfrom her lips: "She is come! The Great Spirit has sent her! Standthere in the midst, Blossom, and hear what we have resolved."
Otaitsa passed between two of the younger and two of the elder women,taking her place between the inner circle and the fire, andwonderfully bright and beautiful did she look, with the flame flashingupon her exquisite form and delicate features, and lighting up acountenance full of strong enthusiasm and pure emotions.
"Thy child hears thy words," she said, without pause or hesitation;for it must be remarked that the stoical gravity which prevailed atthe conferences of the chiefs and warriors was not thought necessaryamong the women of the tribes. "What has the Gray Dove to say to thedaughter of her brother?"
"The boy must not die," said the old woman, in a firm and decidedtone. "It is not the will of the Great Spirit. Or, if he die, thereshall be wailing in every lodge, and mourning amongst the children ofthe Stone. Art thou willing, Otaitsa, child of the Black Eagle,daughter of the flower of the East, to do as we do, and to obey myvoice?"
Otaitsa gazed round the circle, and saw stern and lofty determinationwritten on every countenance.
After gazing round them for an instant, she answered: "I am. I will dowhat thou sayest to save him, even unto death!"
"She has said!" cried the old woman. "Now, then, Blossom, this is thetask: Thou shalt watch eagerly as a fox upon the hillside, and bringword to me of the exact day and hour when the sacrifice is to beoffered. Everyone must watch!"
"But how shall I discover?" asked Otaitsa. "The warriors tell nottheir secrets to women. The Black Eagle hides his thoughts from hisdaughter; he covers his face with a cloud, and wraps his purposes inshadows from our eyes."
"By little signs shalt thou know," said the Gray Dove, "Small cloudsprognosticate great storms. When thou seest any change, mark it well.If his head droop, and his eye seeks the ground more than common,bring or send the tidings unto me. If he be silent when he shouldspeak, and hears not the words thou utterest; if he gazes up to theheaven as if he were seeking to know the changes of the weather whenall is clear; and if he looks at the tomahawk as it hangs upon thebeam, with a dull and heavy eye, be sure the time is coming."
Otaitsa gave a wild start, and exclaimed: "Then it is this night, forall the signs thou hast mentioned have been present. When I enteredthe lodge his head was bowed down, and his eyes fixed upon the ground.He was very sad. He heard me, but his thoughts seemed to wander. Whenhe stopped my petitions and turned toward the door, his eyes restedgloomily on the hatchet; and when he stood without, they were liftedto the sky, as if looking for stars in the daytime. It is to-night! Itis to-night! Oh, what shall be done?"
"Nay," answered the Gray Dove, with a kindly look, "it is notto-night. Be composed, my child. Not until to-morrow, at the hour oftwilight, will the six moons have passed away, and the Black Eaglespeaks no word in vain. He will not lift the tomahawk a moment beforethe hour; but to-morrow will be the time, after the sun has set. Thepalefaces have taken the warpath against each other, and the allies ofthe Black Eagle have called upon him to take wing and help them. Theyhave bid him paint himself for battle, and come forth with hiswarriors. He has waited but for this, and now we know the day and thehour; for he will not tarry."
Otaitsa still trembled, but her mind was much relieved for thepresent. She knew her father well, and she saw the truth of what theGray Dove said. "How shall we stay him?" she inquired. "The BlackEagle bends not in his way like the serpent; he goes straight upon hispath like a bird in the air. He hears not the voice of entreaty; hisears are stopped against the words of prayer. You may turn the torrentas it rushes down after the melting of the snow, or the rock as itfalls from the precipice, but you cannot arrest the course of theBlack Eagle, or turn him from his way!"
"Be firm and constant," said the Gray Dove. "We are in the hands ofthe Great Spirit. Watch him closely, Otaitsa, all to-morrow, from themidday till the setting sun--from the setting sun till the dawn, if itbe needful. The moment he goes forth, come then to me at the lodge ofthe Lynx, by the western gate of the palisade; there shalt thou findme with others. I know that thy young heart is strong, and
that itwill not quail. Watch carefully, but watch secretly. See if he takesthe tomahawk in his belt, and if his face be gay or gloomy. Mark everysign, and bring the news to me."
"They may go off by the other gate, and steal round," said one of thewomen in the inner circle. "I will set my daughter, now waiting, towatch that gate and bring us tidings. She is still and secret as theair of night, and has the foot of the wind."
"It is good," said the Gray Dove, rising. "Let us all be prepared, forthe boy must not die."
No more was said, for the old prophetess fell into one of those deepand solemn reveries from which all present knew she could not easilybe wakened, and which probably had acquired for her the reputation ofconversing with the spirit world which she possessed. One by one,slowly and silently, the women stole out of the lodge, dispersing invarious directions the moment they quitted the door. Otaitsa remainedthe last, in the hope that the Gray Dove would speak again, and affordher some further information of her plans; but she continued silentlygazing on the fire, with her tall figure erect and stiff, and probablyperfectly unconscious of the departure of the others, till at lengththe Blossom followed the rest, and returned quietly to the greatlodge.
The following day broke dark and stormy. About three o'clock in theafternoon a sharp, cold wind succeeded to the mild breath of spring,and the Indians generally remained assembled round their fires,leaving the wide space within the palisade very nearly deserted.Shortly before sunset one Indian woman crept quietly forth, and tookher way toward a hut near the eastern entrance of their village.Another followed very speedily, and when twilight had ended and nightbegun, no less than twelve stood beneath the roof, with the Gray Dovein the midst of them. It was too dark for anyone to see the face ofanother, for the night had fallen heavily and thick, and a blanket wasstretched across the entrance. But the Gray Dove felt them one afteranother with her hands, asking a question of each, to which she seemedto receive a satisfactory answer.
"The thirteenth is not here," she said, "but she will come, and herheart will not fail."
A dead silence fell over them all after these words were spoken; thatsort of stern, heavy, solemn silence which not unfrequently precedesthe execution of some strong and terrible resolution. Yet of thosetwelve there were several gay and lively girls, as well as womenfallen into the decline of life; but nevertheless all were as still asdeath. The volatile lightness of youth, as well as the garrulity ofold age, was hushed.
Suddenly, after they had waited some twenty minutes, the blanket waspushed aside, and another figure was added to the number. The voice ofOtaitsa whispered: "He has gone forth, armed as if for battle; he hashis tomahawk with him; his face is very sad. I saw the Old Cedar Treecross to the west gate, and others whom I knew not in the darkness."
She spoke in eager haste, and gasped for breath; but the old womantook her by the arm, saying: "Be calm! Be still! Now follownoiselessly. Then down as you pass through the maize, though in thisblack night who shall see us?"
She was the first to issue forth; then came Otaitsa, and the othersfollowed, one by one, with quick but silent steps, through the widefield of maize that swept round the palisade, and then into theneighboring forest. Once, when they came near a spot where thepolished mirror of the lake collected and cast back every ray of lightthat remained in the air, they caught sight of a dark file, shadowyand ghostlike as themselves, moving on at a little distance, in thesame direction. But it was soon lost; and the sight only served tohasten their footsteps. Passing along a trail which cut across theneck of a little wooded promontory, they suddenly came in sight of thelake again, and by its side a low Indian hut, marked out plainlyagainst the surface of the water. When within some thirty yards, theGray Dove halted, whispered a word or two to those who followed, andthen, bending down, crept closer to the lodge.
"Oh, let us hasten!" whispered Otaitsa. "They are already there! Ihear my father speaking!"
"Hush! hush! Be still!" said the old woman, in the same tone. "TheBlack Eagle will do nothing hastily; it is for him a solemn rite. Letme first get near; then follow, and do what I do."
Ticonderoga: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley Page 26
