The Beothuk Saga

by Bernard Assiniwi

  Several elders began to sew the wounds of the hunters, using long hairs taken from the heads of the fallen. The women searched for pitcher plants to make a paste to apply to the wounds that were too large to be sewn closed. Others fashioned splints with which to bind broken limbs. The disfigured young man moaned that he would rather die than live without a face. He was blind, but he still tried to find a weapon with which to take his own life. It took four people to hold him still.

  When the beaters arrived they beheld a scene of indescribable horror and confusion. The blood of a hundred animals mingled with that of the dead hunters. No words could adequately describe the nightmare that greeted them on that field of death. The work of cutting and smoking the caribou meat, and mending and cleaning the many wounded, lasted three whole suns.

  Wobee was in a state of shock for several hours. An elder told him that the next hunt had to be better planned and certainly better executed. The former Frenchman who had sailed under Jacques Cartier felt partly responsible for the human slaughter: he told himself that the beaters should have gone more slowly so as not to panic the caribou. Although the elders told him that it was the hunters’ inexperience that had caused their deaths, Wobee did not believe them. He kept himself busy comforting the wounded, devoting himself to their care, and he made many new friends in both clans, the clan of Appawet and that of Gashu-Uwith. His dedication was noticed by all, and he acted like a true Red Man in their eyes. No longer was he looked upon as a stranger.

  The young man whose face had been destroyed, whose name was Dogermaït the Long Arrow, was relieved by a dressing of healing herbs and no longer spoke of killing himself. His instinct for survival was returning. He even joked about his wounds, saying that from now on he would be known as Ashmudyim the Evil One, the devil with the face that frightened children. Slowly, calm returned to the Beothuk people. It was decided to build a storehouse for the meat on the very spot where the accident had taken place, as a way of reminding future hunters to take more care. The members of the Bear Clan suggested that all the wounded be carried to Red Ochre Lake, which was close by, until they had regained their strength. Then they could return to their proper villages. Half the wounded were Bear Clan members anyway. From then on, Dogermaït was called Ashmudyim the Evil One, but always with a smile, so that he would not be offended by his own joke.

  Of the original thirty hunters belonging to the Appawet Clan, only fifteen took the trail back to the sea. Almost all the women and elders returned within a few suns. The hunting during this season of falling leaves would be remembered for a long time. Dogermaït chose to return with the hunters rather than stay behind with the Bear Clan. He wanted to be among his own clan members, despite his new ugliness. Most of all, he wanted to rejoin his companion Addizabad-Zéa the White Woman, to see if she would accept his disfigurement or be repelled by it. Would he be able to remain with his clan, or would he always frighten others? Since he still had two good legs and two good arms, he made the return journey without too much help. He had the use of only one eye, however, and often stumbled over objects on the ground. When he had to descend a steep slope and cross a stream by stepping on rocks, he said that since he could see only half of what he once could, he had to be twice as careful. The first time he fell a comrade reached out to help him; he erupted in anger. “I do not need anyone to help me correct my own errors,” he said firmly. “If I have to learn how to do everything again, then I must do it on my own.”

  His companions complied with his request. When he tripped a second time, then a third, no one in the file tried to help him. They pretended not to notice, and several of them actually made a detour around him to avoid being tempted to help him when he blocked the path. Weakened, but with tremendous courage, he picked himself up each time. Even though the wounds on his face and his punctured eye caused him terrible suffering, he did not complain once. He managed to keep up with the other hunters. He would not become an object of pity to the other clan members. He would learn again how to be a fully participating member, completely capable of fulfilling his role for the well-being of the community.

  Despite the young man’s pride and determination, Wobee could not help keeping an eye on him. What courage he was showing, and what a will to live! The Malouin spoke to him from time to time, trying to understand certain attitudes and habits of the Beothuk. Amiably, without showing the slightest impatience, the wounded man answered the Malouin’s questions, perhaps glad that he was still able to be useful despite his condition. Perhaps also Ashmudyim treated Wobee kindly because Wobee had tended him so devotedly after his injury. During the seven suns it took the hunters to reach their village by the sea, the two men became closely bound in friendship. They would remain so until one or the other left on his final great voyage.

  When the village was but half a sun’s walk away, the hunters sent a runner ahead to announce their arrival and to say that one of the men was wounded, so that the shock of seeing him would be lessened for his family.

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  When the hunting party left the forest edge and walked into the clearing where the Appawet Clan had their village, they were greeted by a large group of fifty children. Among them stood a beautiful young woman. She did not move, but her eyes searched among the hunters for her husband, and as soon as she saw him she ran towards him and threw herself into his arms.

  “Dogermaït,” she cried. “How happy I am to see you again, safe and healthy.”

  Gently, the wounded man pushed her away from him. “I am not Long Arrow any more,” he said to her. “Now I am Ashmudyim the Evil One, he who frightens children.”

  “No, you are not!” cried the woman. “To me, you are still Dogermaït, the best archer on the island of the Red Men.”

  “Even with a face that looks like trampled grazing ground?”

  “Even if you had come home in pieces,” replied his wife, whose name was Addizabad-Zéa.

  The young man embraced her and held her close, though he was careful to keep his bleeding face from touching hers.

  Wobee was astonished by this scene. The young woman had not shown the slightest hint of disgust at her husband’s face, even though it had been cut to ribbons by the flint-sharp hooves of a dozen caribou. How would the children react, he wondered? Their response could be decisive for the mutilated young man. But they made no allusion to the man’s terrible wounds. They were not repelled by the sight of his disfiguration. On the contrary, they flocked around him.

  “Dogermaït, when are you going to tell us the story of the hunt?”

  The young hunter was so moved by this welcome that he began to cry like a child who has been taken from his mother. Still the children fired questions at him.

  “How many caribou did you kill?”

  “Did you miss many?”

  “Where did the chief of the hunt place you?”

  “Tell us the whole story.”

  “When are you going to tell us?”

  When the young man was finally able to speak, he said: “As you can see, there was an accident during this hunt. The caribou used my face for their escape route and turned me into Ashmudyim the Frightful. I am surprised that you even recognized me!”

  To which one of the children replied: “Your body and your heart are still the same. You didn’t fool us!”

  This caused the young man to burst into tears again, and even the other hunters had to keep tight control of their emotions. The brave man had almost died trying to procure their winter provisions, and everyone was aware of that fact.

  “How can we call you Ashmudyim?” the children asked. “You are our hero. You are Dogermaït, he who shoots the longest arrows and is the best archer of the Beothuk Nation.”

  Once again regaining his voice, Dogermaït announced that at the clan’s feast-for-everyone, which was to take place in two suns’ time, he would tell them the story of the hunt from the beginning to the time he was wounded. Those who saw the accident would have to take the story from there. He explained t
hat he first wanted to spend some time with his wife, his father and mother, before beginning the story. He thanked the young people for not making fun of his disfigurement. The youngsters had acted instinctively in accordance with Beothuk tradition: No one has the right to laugh at the misfortunes of another. Dogermaït asked them to leave him in peace for the time being.

  “I desperately need to rest,” he told them.

  The youngsters were hardly gone when the parents of all the hunters arrived on the scene. Some of them shed many tears when they learned of the death of the four young men. Others were relieved to hear that their absent sons were resting at the village of the Bear Clan until they were strong enough to return to their own village. Dogermaït’s father and mother took their son into their arms to show him how joyful they were that he had returned. Wobee watched their displays of affection and learned much about the great solidarity shared by these people, who were called blood-thirsty Savages by the Europeans who wanted to take the fish from their very waters. How could anyone have any idea of the degree of civilization attained by a people until they had lived among them? Le Guellec thought that though he no longer lived among his own people, and sometimes missed them, he would never regret having left the ship of Monsieur Jacques Cartier.

  39

  When he entered his mamateek, Wobee found his three wives lying in one another’s arms, hugging and kissing one another and obviously giving themselves a great deal of pleasure. He was scandalized by the sight. He started shouting and waving his arms, saying that in his country such behaviour was condemned by the Church and abhorred by all decent people. Ooish replied that in France a man had only one wife to satisfy, and even then, as had been told by Anin’s Viking wives, no sooner was he away to sea than his wife found a replacement for him in her bed!

  Jean le Guellec declared that what they were doing was an offence to nature and to God Himself. Badisut laughed at that, asking him when was the last time he had seen this God of his, and what had they talked about, since he seemed to know so much about the Creator’s thoughts.

  “You have a great deal of nerve, talking to us about God as though He were your best friend. We know nothing of your God, but we do know that Kobshuneesamut the Creator has never spoken against what we are doing. We would surely know if he had. Our God allows us the freedom to be ourselves. Why does yours want to come into our mamateeks and tell us what to do and what not to do? What does he gain from becoming involved in our private relations?”

  Then Obosheen tried to explain that in a household of three wives, jealousy is the worst enemy. Without it, she said, there is friendship and agreement, which can grow into mutual tenderness.

  “When a man goes away and leaves his wives unsatisfied,” broke in Ooish, “what do you think they should do? Dry up? Rub themselves against trees? Only birch trees are smooth enough for that. The others have rough bark that scratches our soft skin. Beothuk women have satisfied each other since the beginning of multiple marriages. It isn’t our fault that there are more women than men. As long as we don’t neglect our duties as wives, we have been able to take our pleasures where we find them without being made to feel guilty about it. We have not deceived you with other men, nor even with other women. We have remained faithful to ourselves.”

  Badisut told him about the discussions that had taken place in the Grand Council during the time of Anin and his four wives. Only one of them had been Beothuk, but the others became friends of the Beothuk.

  “As far as I know, there has always been peace in our households. Is that not what it means to respect our traditions? There are no specific rules about friendship between women in the Beothuk tradition. But what you tell us about your country says nothing to us about ours. We are Beothuk, not French. Our obedience is to Beothuk customs, not to French laws. Our friendship may anger you, but I think your anger is a form of jealousy. If you took care of us in the customary way, our little caressing sessions would be much less frequent. But do not come in here and accuse us of doing wrong. We have caused no problems among our people. We have preserved an atmosphere of understanding within our household by respecting Beothuk customs. And we have done our duty to the Beothuk Nation by increasing it with your babies. Ooish is going to have her second child during the coming season of cold and snow, and the others of us will give birth when the season-cycle begins again after that. Were you even aware of that? Have you shown any interest in us at all? You have nothing with which to reproach us. You also benefit from the peace that is in this household, so you must leave us to our friendship if you want it to continue. Never again reproach us for showing our tenderness and love.”

  Presented with these arguments, Wobee was silent and thoughtful. What would happen if the men outnumbered the women, he wondered? That thought had no doubt occurred to others before him. “Perhaps I should speak to Camtac,” he thought. “He has an answer for every question. Maybe he will enlighten me.”

  Wobee left the mamateek and walked to Camtac’s dwelling. When he arrived, he asked his father-in-law to accompany him to the seashore, so that he might seek the old man’s counsel. Camtac took up his walking stick and followed. He did, indeed, have answers to the questions posed by the Malouin.

  “We often discussed these practices you speak of at the national council fire,” said Camtac. “We came to the conclusion that as long as the women did not neglect their duties as wives we could hardly prevent them from giving pleasure to themselves, since it was we who had asked them to share a single husband. The council has no authority to dictate conduct within families. Its only concern in that area is to make sure that the birthrate is maintained. If there are sufficient births, what more can we ask? It is true that our tradition does not speak of this practice, but why should a person’s pleasures be controlled by tradition so long as his or her duties are being fulfilled? If women began to prefer such pleasures to repopulating the island, then the council would be justified in stepping in to remind them of their responsibilities. But I do not believe that is the case here, and so I would not be concerned about it. I have often seen our young men seek such pleasure among themselves when they are deprived of women, as when they are on long hunting and fishing journeys. I do not think the nation has been made weaker by such things. Or that we have become less attentive to our duties. I think it must be the same for all peoples who live as we do, the men being away from their women for many moons at a time. One thing I can tell you, such practices are never found among wives chosen from the same family. Sisters never show such tenderness and affection for one another. Sometimes it exists between cousins, or between an aunt and her niece. On the other hand, if a man marries sisters and shows too much favour to one of them, there are often disgraceful scenes between them, acts of mutilation and sometimes murder. You must therefore pay heed to this more than to excessive affection between wives.”

  Wobee listened, and the old man continued.

  “Do not compare the customs of your old country with ours. You are living as a Beothuk now. Always remember that, and you will commit no more errors that threaten the peace of your household.”

  While the two men continued their walk along the beach, children played freely about them and couples walked hand in hand. It was one of the last beautiful evenings of the season of falling leaves. Saying he was very tired, Camtac left Wobee and returned to his mamateek. In reality, the conversation had stirred his sexual appetite, and he was eager to hasten back to satisfy his desire with his new wife, who was twenty season-cycles younger than himself, and who had recently replaced Camtac’s first wife, the mother of Ooish, who had died the previous season of new growth. She had died of a fever that was new to the Beothuk, and against which their herbal medicines had proven ineffective. Wobee recognized one of the couples on the beach; it was Ashmudyim and Addizabad-Zéa, walking with their arms around each other.

  That night, Wobee the Malouin watched Ooish and Obosheen making love-between-women while he was honouring the tall dancer, Badisut.
Everyone went to sleep feeling happy.

  In the morning, he asked his wives if they had ever seen two men satisfying each other. All three women laughed, and Badisut asked him if he was looking for a male partner. He also laughed, then, realizing the naivety of his question. Never again in his household was the friendship between wives called into question; from then on, their mamateek was a place of complete freedom. During the season of cold and snow, Ooish gave birth to a second son, and in the season of new growth Badisut had a girl child and Obosheen had twin boys.

  Wobee continued his apprenticeship into the life of the Beothuk people on the island of the Red Men. He also occupied himself with his growing family, as all Beothuk fathers were required to do to assure the continuity of the race, the nation, and, above all, of the family.

  Ooish remained clan chief until she reached the age of sixty-eight season-cycles. She had four children, Badisut had five, and Obosheen four. In all, there were seven male and six female descendants of Jean le Guellec, the sailor from Saint Malo in Brittany and the former crew member of the French explorer Jacques Cartier. Though a foreigner, he was welcomed into the heart of the Beothuk Nation on the island of the Red Men. He grew old and wise, and no one noticed any differences between him and any other Red Man on the island. His conduct had, quite simply, made a man of him. Because of his generosity and devotion, he was a friend to all. Since the time of the four foreigners who had come with the ancestor Anin the Voyager, no other adopted member had been so completely integrated into the nation. Wobee did not attempt to change the Beothuk people into copies of the French. He knew too well that he would never be able to weaken the power of the traditions that had been established by Anin more than five hundred season-cycles before, and kept alive by the Living Memories of the nation. Since they had a history that had lasted so long, how could he, a simple sailor, hope to change their way of seeing the world?