Eagle of Seneca

by Corrina Lawson

  Nighthawk made a noise that sounded like choking. “The Romans only honor what they can take. Our gods would never honor them, especially the Corn Mother who brings life.”

  “Then why did the wind itself allow Ceti to fly?”

  “As I said, it could be a sign to watch the skies, to beware the Romans. The wind did drop him at your feet, after all.”

  “He fell at my feet, alive. Why let him survive?”

  Nighthawk put his hand over his face, as if trying to drive away his displeasure. She knew that look. It meant he was at the end of his patience.

  “On the strength of one man falling at your feet, would you order our warriors to take up arms for Manhatos against a Roman fleet that can attack and burn our villages at will?” Nighthawk shook his head. “Have some sense. Think.”

  I’m working on it. Trust her father to realize that she didn’t have a fully-formed plan.

  “I want to talk more with Ceti. I want find out everything I can about from him. As you and my mother taught me, information is as much a weapon as a spear. It’s power.”

  “That’s not what you’re interested in.” Nighthawk’s lips thinned. “I saw the way he looked at you. And I saw the way you smiled at him.” He sighed. “This is my fault. You’re long past due to be married. I should have agreed with your mother for once and pushed for the union with Quiet Dog.”

  Sky felt her face heat. How had her father hit the mark so closely again? Anger and shame threatened to close her throat. “You think I’ll make my decisions based on whether I want the Roman as a lover?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I believe. It’s childish and irresponsible.”

  She wanted to scream or rush out of the wigwam. That would hardly convince him that she wasn’t a child any longer. She took at deep breath and stared at him instead. His mouth rose in a slight smirk.

  The snake. He’s doing this to me on purpose. He wants me to behave like a child.

  “Lake Wolf gave me authority and I will use it, no matter what you say.”

  “If you can’t learn to heed good advice, how can you lead?”

  “It’s not good advice,” she snapped. “I want to talk to Ceti of Seneca. I want to find out what he knows of us. Mother forbade me to go near the Romans, even though we need to know about them. Ceti’s arrival is a gift, a chance to learn. I won’t waste it.”

  “If you won’t listen to me, then remember that you have no more standing than I do to decide Ceti’s fate. That will be for the elders of Shorakapkok,” Nighthawk said. “They’ll listen to Deep Water, not you.”

  Sky nodded, conceding the point. Like her, Deep Water was another one who had been chasing her destiny since birth. The shaman had been born with the parts of both the male and female sex. She was that rare being, someone being perfectly in balance with all human nature. The shaman had children of her own body. She also lived with a woman and, rumor had, functioned sexually as a man with her. Whether Deep Water was also the father of this woman’s children was cause for debate among the clans. Her wife claimed that she was. But it didn’t matter if it was true, it only mattered that people believed it was. Double fertility was a true sign of favor from the gods.

  If Deep Water wanted Ceti killed, he would die.

  I will have to act quickly, then, while she is secluded in prayer.

  Nighthawk reached for a bowl to his right and a pipe to his left. He packed the pipe with dried leaves from the bowl and lit the pipe with a glowing stick from the fire that burned in the small hearth of the wigwam.

  He set the bowl between them.

  “If you claim the gods have a hand in what the Romans do, then how can we claim to be the god’s chosen People? Are you ready to call the Romans your equal?”

  Sky flushed. “No.” That went against all she’d been taught. “That’s not what I said earlier.”

  He offered her the pipe. “That is where you are going.”

  She refused the pipe. He wanted her to absorb its fumes and relax. Relaxation was the last thing she needed. She waved a hand at the pipe smoke billowing toward her.

  “When the wolves menaced us, many generations ago, we made friends of some of the young ones. Now we have dogs that protect our villages.”

  Nighthawk smiled. “You think the Romans can be turned from wolves to dogs? Hah!”

  “We turned the wolves by offering them shelter and protection from harm by larger predators. Legate Makki is one such. Would you rather have the wolf continue to stalk our doors or try and tame the ones that have come close without too much harm?”

  Nighthawk shrugged and went back to smoking his pipe.

  Sky swallowed her anger just enough so she wouldn’t appear to be stomping out.

  Curse whatever the villagers and her father said. She was going to talk to Ceti now before Deep Water made her decision.

  ****

  A crowd had gathered around the aquila in her absence. Sky smiled. So others were curious after all. She slipped past them and curled her hand around the hollow wood frame. What a wise choice to echo the hollow bones of the birds.

  She ran her fingertips over the wing coverings, remembering how hard the cloth had been to cut. The ripped edge at the end of one wing showed her that it was many tiny fibers sewn together, but where such material had come from, she had no idea. The only resemblance she could think of was a spider’s web. Did Roman looms somehow produce this from the fabric taken from the short, hooved animals they called sheep? Or did it come from some strange animal that lived overseas in their Empire?

  But the biggest question was how Ceti had gotten the wind to catch and lift the aquila to the sky. She tilted her head, wondering if he’d simply waited for a strong burst of wind. But it seemed too heavy for that to be enough.

  The secret, she guessed, was not in any of the materials but in the man who made it.

  She strode over to the longhouse where Ceti was being kept. The warrior standing guard outside called to someone inside.

  A woman appeared in the doorway.

  “I must talk to the Roman,” Sky said.

  The woman, likely the owner of the home, nodded. “You may come in.”

  “I need to see him out here, with his aquila,” Sky said.

  The woman frowned.

  “He’ll be visible to everyone in the village,” Sky said. “And I’ll be responsible for him.”

  The woman nodded. “Fine, take him off my hands. He stares at me while I prepare the food. And he’s already asked when he can see this flying thing of his.”

  Sky smiled. “Thank you.” She called out to Ceti through the doorway.

  From the corner of the long house, a dark shape appeared, taking form as it approached the light. Ceti. They stepped back outside together.

  His clothing was rumpled and dirtier than earlier. Yet the cut on his shoulder had been treated—there was a clean cloth over it. His arms were covered in scratches, with a few more on his face. Hair had started to grow around his chin and jaw line. She’d seen Romans with beards before but not this close. She almost reached out a hand to touch it before catching herself.

  He smiled at her, either not noticing or pretending not to notice her aborted gesture, and his blue eyes seemed kind. His wavy hair made him appear young and she wondered how old he truly was. She’d thought he must be older to have accomplished so much, but there were no age lines around his eyes or mouth.

  “How is your shoulder?” she asked.

  “Stiff but not badly injured.” He rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms. Her impression of his strength deepened. He was so big. The forearms were thick and strong—perhaps double the size of any of the Lenape men. And he was a full head taller than Nighthawk. She swallowed, wondering if the rest of him was similarly big.

  She should not be thinking that. It would only prove her father right.

  “I’ll recover in time,” Ceti said. “Thank you for asking.”

  “We’re going to your Aquila, but you must stay with m
e,” she said. “If you try to run away, you’ll be killed. You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She almost asked for his promise. But she didn’t know yet if that would be worth anything. She could hear her father’s imagined voice in her ear, saying a Roman’s word couldn’t be trusted.

  They walked to the damaged aquila.

  “How long did it take to create this?” she asked.

  “This one? Six moons.”

  “There are more?”

  “Not anymore.” He grinned. “The others were damaged or destroyed after the tests. At the beginning, I made miniatures and gradually built larger. Along the way, I altered the wing spans to discover which design would fly the highest and stay in the sky the longest. Then I took what I learned from the scale models and built this.”

  Part of her had thought this idea had sprung full-force from Ceti’s mind. But, no, he’d created the aquila in steps. A very patient man.

  A very stubborn man.

  “How long have you been working on this?” she asked.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw children with the afternoon’s snack of cornbread in their hands, eating and listening intently. She tried hard not to smile at their curiosity.

  If Ceti was aware of his other listeners, he didn’t show it. She decided not to tell him.

  “It took over ten winters to run all the tests and finally build the aquila,” he said.

  Ten winters? She couldn’t think of a single thing she’d worked on for ten winters. “Where did you get the cloth?”

  He grinned. “Ah, I hired a tailor to weave silk in with sail cloth fibers.”

  “Silk?”

  “It’s imported from overseas. It comes from a type of worm.”

  “A worm?” She shook her head. “You are teasing me.”

  “Not about this.” He smiled again. “I thought the silk would work by itself but it performed better once we added the stronger sail cloth fibers.”

  “And what is this hollow wood?”

  “It’s called bamboo and is common in southern climates,” he said. “Though I think no one else has used it to make an aquila.”

  “You are the only one?”

  “I believe so,” he said.

  He had done something unprecedented. No wonder he refused to leave the aquila where it had fallen. “That is a task worthy of a story.”

  He grinned looked up at the sky. “It was definitely worth all the work.”

  She craned her neck to look up with him. “Tell me how it felt.”

  “I...” He frowned. “Not like I expected. I thought it would be like sailing when the ship moves fast but with no seeming effort but...it was more like floating but without the weight of the water around you.” He looked down and shook his head. “I’m not good with words. It felt...” He put a hand on the broken wing, his gaze unfocused. “Free. I was alone and yet not alone. I know that doesn’t make sense.” He tapped at the cracked frame and grimaced. “Now I have a question for you, Sky.”

  “It’s not decided yet when or if you can go. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s a question that concerns you, not me,” he said. “Tell me why.”

  “Why what?” she asked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. You risked your life for my aquila and you spoke up for me after I was captured. Tell me why.”

  She glanced around. Most of the crowd was gone, even the children, pulled away by the mid-day tasks of gathering wood and preparing for dinner. Or maybe they’d not wanted to be too close to the Roman for too long. She lowered her voice. She wanted only Ceti to hear this.

  “I always wanted to fly,” she said. “It’s been part of my destiny since I was born.”

  “Destiny can be an odd thing to understand.” He ducked down to study the broken frame. “Are you destined to be the Domina of these people, then?”

  “Not of this clan. The Wolf Clan, when I settle down with my own longhouse.” She shook her head. “But the story of the fire in the sky on the night I was born leads me to believe that the sky itself is my place.”

  “A fire in the sky? Like a falling star?” he asked.

  “No, not a simple light. The entire night was filled with colors.”

  He frowned.

  “You don’t believe me.” She glared at him.

  “I believe you. I was thinking of what could cause such lights. I’ve heard tales from mariners who sail the northern seas. They talk of something similar. Most think it’s just another sea story.”

  “It’s true.”

  He nodded. “Some of the record keepers in Manhatos might have written it down. How long ago was this?”

  “Twenty changes of the seasons,” she said. “You weren’t here then?”

  “I was too young to be with the Legion that many years ago. I sailed across the sea some years later.”

  So he was older than she was, but not as much as she’d thought. She was pleased.

  “Are you valuable to your people? You said you needed to get back to them. Will they come to retrieve you and the aquila?”

  He turned away. Avoiding her question, possibly.

  “I don’t know. If they can spare the men and if they can discern where I landed, they’ll come. But it won’t be today, I think. I flew too far.”

  “If they come, will they attack?”

  “No, not without cause. They would ask for me first before attacking.”

  She turned and put her back to him, wondering again if she could trust him. The only way to know was to keep him talking.

  “Tell me exactly how this works.” She tapped the beak of the painted eagle. “Does the wind simply catch it on the ground and lift you up?”

  “If only it were that easy. But, no, I have to fling it into the sky.”

  “Fling it?” Her mouth fell open. She had guessed that perhaps he’d jumped off a hill or one of those tall Roman buildings. “I would love to see that.”

  “I can’t show you here. It takes another special piece of equipment, called a catapult, and that’s at my workshop.” Ceti shook his head, displaying the broken ends of the frame. “And even then, this will not fly until I get it repaired.”

  “That is too bad.” I want to see this workshop.

  He looked up at the cliffs above them. “I can help you build a model aquila, if you can bring me the right materials.”

  Yes, please! “What do we need?”

  Ceti spread out his hands. “I need a piece of wood, this long, but only this thick. It should also be the lightest wood that you have.”

  “That’s it? No cloth?”

  “With the models, a fixed wing is enough. I’ll also need a small knife or some other sharp object to carve the wood.”

  Sky looked around. “My knife will do for me but...” She stared at him. Providing him with the knife would be arming him. Deep Water would be appalled.

  “Give me your word that you will use the knife only to its intended purpose and that you’ll give me it back when you’re done. Swear you will not try to escape when you are with me. If you do escape, I’ll be held responsible.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  She swallowed, hard. “It means that I will receive the punishment meant to you.”

  His eyes widened. “Understood.” He hit his chest with his first in what she assumed was a Roman salute. “You have my word, Sky, that I will give the knife back and will not try to escape when I’m with you.”

  She almost smiled. He hadn’t promised not to escape. He simply promised that he wouldn’t run away from her. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Stay here.”

  He nodded gravely.

  It took her only a short time to collect the right wood because the children who’d gathered around after their chores were eager to help.

  She borrowed her father’s carving knife, left with his traveling pack in the wigwam, for Ceti to use. She would have asked Nighthawk’s permission but he was not there. H
e was likely consulting with the elders, pushing for Ceti’s death.

  There was not much time.

  Sky settled with Ceti under the double protection of one wing of the aquila and the canopy above them. Some of the children quietly watched just out of Ceti’s line of sight. Good. Amusing the children, even teaching them, might cause the elders to think well of Ceti. It was one of the best ways to show he wasn’t dangerous.

  “You brought more wood than I needed,” he said.

  “I wanted to make one myself, not just watch you make one for me,” she said.

  Ceti stared at her for a long time, as if he’d decided something about her and was looking to have it confirmed. It was rude to stare so long yet she did not sense any insult from his scrutiny. He looked at her the same way he looked at the aquila, as if she was one of his projects, something that he did not understand yet but wanted to.

  In its way, she suspected this was a compliment.

  “So,” she said. “Show me what to do.”

  He picked up the wood and the knife she had bought for him and began to carve. She watched, then started on her own wood but she could not seem to mimic the smoothness of his strokes.

  “You’re digging too deep,” he said. “You are used to forming the wood, forcing it to your will to make a new object. That is not what we do. We merely want to refine the shape enough for it to channel the wind currents.”

  She held out her knife hand. “Show me. Guide my hand.”

  He closed his large, wide fingers around her slimmer ones. He leaned closer, until she could almost feel his breath on her face. She swallowed, surprised at the gentleness of his touch.

  “Hold it just so.” He adjusted her thumb along the hilt of the knife. “And do not grip so tight.”

  He held up the wood to her other hand and changed the grip of her fingers around it. “Use this thumb and hold it tight, unyielding. It must stay in one place while your strokes alter the contours of the wood.” He gently held both her hands and guided them into the stroke that he wanted. She mimicked his movements. He relaxed his grip on her hands but did not let go.

  “Good. Try again,” he said. “I’ll correct you if you go wrong.”

  She nodded, her throat unexpectedly tight, determined that she do this right. She carved off one long, thin strip of wood.