by Joan Grant
I heard Raki say, “The Black Feathers! The Black Feathers are coming out of the East…they will be here before noon tomorrow!”
“Do you hope to win the office of tribal story-teller?”
“Father, you must believe him! We have seen them. We must all fight. …Raki and I are both going to fight with you and it doesn’t matter if we are killed.”
“You both look as though you had run a long way. Did you meet a grizzly, or frighten yourselves with your own imagination?”
I felt as though I were trying to wake from a nightmare in which I was screaming a warning into a silence too heavy to break. I had been ready for the turmoil of preparation, had seen it while we ran on and on to bring our warning: the Chief giving orders to the Braves, telling them where to hold their ground, where to fall back so as to lure the enemy into ambush. The young squaws taking the children to hide with them in the woods, while the Old Women heated cauldrons of water and pitch for the staunching of wounds. I had seen men trying to pluck arrows from their throats, or staggering forward with eyes that had begun to glaze like a dying deer’s. …I had heard the bowstrings sounding the song of death. But because I could not make my father share my vision, our people were going to be massacred.
I saw Raki run towards the Great Tepee, and realized that he was going to blow the horn used only by a Chief to summon the tribe in time of danger. For any but a Wearer of Feathers to touch the horn meant death, in expiation of sacrilege. But the tribe would have been warned, even though the deep note rolling across the valley would tell the Black Feathers that we were prepared.
I saw my father follow him, silent as a shadow. His hands were on Raki’s shoulders, holding him back, and I heard him say, “Had you forgotten that it is death to touch the Horn of the Gathering Together?”
“No, I had not forgotten.”
“You are not afraid to die?”
“How could I be…when there is no other way to warn the tribe?”
My father called me, and I went and stood close to Raki so that I could feel his shoulder against mine. Almost it seemed as though my father was smiling.
“You are both ready to die for your people now that you think a black cloud has come out of the East to shut away our sun. Why did you not stay in your little valley where the danger would have passed you by? You need not answer: your presence here has done that for you. You thought you owed no allegiance to your tribe and were free to live your own lives without accepting responsibility. It seems that the ties of the Totem are stronger than you knew.”
“We should never have come back except to warn you,” I said.
“But you came back. I did not expect you until tomorrow. To travel so swiftly from the high pass shows that already you have learned something of the endurance of Braves.”
“How did you know we were coming?” I said, bewildered.
“How did you know how long it took us to get here?” said Raki.
“How do I know that it was at sunset five days ago that you first saw the smoke in the East? You took it for a great tribe because there were many cooking-fires springing up near the first and largest of them. How do I know that the next night the fires were nearer to us, and that when you crossed the pass they were only a day’s journey behind you?”
I said, “You saw it in the pool, just as I saw the woman you want me to become, the Wearer of Feathers. You made me see that vision, you thought it would make me come back, but I wouldn’t look into still water again. You can’t take me away from Raki!”
Raki was saying slowly, “Who lit those fires? You had them lit, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” said my father. “It was my smoke which called you home.”
“You knew that we should remember the legend of the Black Feathers. You snared us by lies…another Nona who frightens children into obedience! Piyanah and I won’t stay with you. You can’t keep us prisoners. There is no law which can keep anyone in the tribe who prefers the freedom of exile!”
“Have I kept you prisoners? Have I imposed my wishes on you? You thought you had escaped me, and that we searched for your bodies below the rapids. But you were wrong, my children. Senchek, the finest of my trackers, followed you. He told me of your climb down the cliff, and how that night you slept in a hole by the stream. I knew when your corn ripened, and where you set your snares by the Lake of the Wildfowl. He has often brought me news of you; and there was pride in my heart at what he told me.”
“And yet you betrayed us!”
“I knew you would be too proud to return, for to you it would seem defeat instead of victory.”
There was despair deep as my own in Raki’s voice. “We have been defeated—by fear, that was born of black smoke and fathered by a legend.”
“The Black Feathers are not a legend. Three moons ago one of our hunters returned from the Unknown Country and brought this back with him.” He held out his hand, and across the long, narrow palm was a crow’s feather, knotted to a forehead-thong.
I looked at it with scorn. “Is that a brand from the fire whose smoke is lies?”
“No, my daughter. This is another sign that the days when men dared to forget the legends are passing. Now we must be strong in wisdom which is behind our symbols: the scarlet feather must be more than a symbol of physical strength, and the feathers of the headdress must be winged in truth. The Great Hunters have given you into my care: the voice of the past has spoken, saying, ‘The two who are one must of their own choice become two, then shall their united strength be mighty.’ Already the bond between you is wiser than the commands of your father, older than the laws of your Chief, stronger than the security of your tribe. Now must you gain the twofold wisdom; the right hand and the left hand; sunset and sunrise; man and woman. You were ready to die for your people: now you must live for them. No longer will it be remembered that Piyanah’s body tires more easily than a man’s, that for her the bow is heavier to bend. Her companions may not find their tolerance increased when they discover that she is only a woman by name, for it will make them less confident that man is superior to his squaw. They will find this thought disturbing, but through it they will learn that tradition must be weighed against the Feather of Wisdom before it can be accepted.
“Raki will live among the squaws, until he has learned to think as a woman, to feel as a woman. He must learn how to fringe a tunic, to make cooking-pots, to look after a sick child…all the humble things which fill their days. The girls who have not yet been Chosen will try to find ways of reminding him that he is a man, and at times he may find it difficult to forget that he is an arrow and not a quiver. He, too, will undergo the ordeals of a warrior, and the others may scorn him because he is dressed as a squaw.
“Neither of you may explain that you are learning to bring back the wisdom of the Before People: you may say only that you obey the commands of the Chief. It may be thought that I have done this to humble you for running away, but that will further strengthen you, for no one who is strong of heart need fear mockery. When the not-man and the not-woman have passed the ordeals, then shall they lead forth their own tribe under a totem of your own choosing, and the contentment of the unborn generations shall be your heritage.”
There were no words strong enough to fight against Na-ka-chek. He had said, “You were ready to die for your people, now you must live for them”; and Raki had heard him. Raki would never be happy if we went away: for even when we laughed together he would still hear an echo of the people we had betrayed to the Sorrow Bird.
I had thought that with Raki I was stronger than visions of the future, stronger than the call of the tribe. But we were children who had tried to escape into a world of our own, children watched by grown-ups, who could afford to be tolerant because time was their friend, not ours.
I was no longer the Piyanah who was brave and confident because she was secure with Raki in our little valley. I was a child who obediently drank the bowl of broth that Na-ka-chek put into my hands: a child who struggled aga
inst an aching weariness, until her father realized she was going to fall into tears and carried her back to the tepee that for this last night before the Separation she would share with Raki.
Someone must have come into our tepee without waking us, for new clothes were lying ready and our own had been taken away. For me there was a breech-clout and a strip of brown cloth, which I couldn’t think how to wear until I remembered that I was to bind my breasts.
My fingers were clumsy as I helped Raki to plait his hair smoothly under the forehead-band of white beads, to put on the tunic of a squaw and the two wide bracelets he must wear above the right elbow. There was a look in his eyes which reminded me of Braves making the yearly dedication of arrows before the Totem, and I whispered to the Great Hunters, “Please don’t let me cry. Raki is living in the far future where the present cannot hurt him…please don’t let me drag him back.”
I thought he was going out of the tepee without speaking to me, but he paused before he unlaced the flap. “We must always remember that the not-man and the not-woman are still Raki and Piyanah. If one of us dies, he will wait for the other in our valley. Even the corn-cobs will be there, just as we left them. I daren’t say any more…they mustn’t know we are afraid. You aren’t crying, are you, Piyanah?”
“No, Raki, I’m not crying.”
Then I watched him go away, across the clearing, to join the squaws.
Everything looked just as usual: the box where we had kept our clothes, the beaver robe in which we slept, both wrapped in it together; even the little canoes that Raki had carved for me still followed each other round the circular shelf of the centre-post. Everything looked just the same, yet nothing would ever be the same any more. Raki would never come back to put on those moccasins. I should never see him smiling as he woke; smiling because we were together on a new day.
I put on Raki’s belt, the one he always wore because I had made it for him. I took his knife and filled his quiver with arrows. Then, carrying his bow, I took the path which led away from childhood.
PART TWO
First Bear’s Claw
The boys, and the Braves who were training them for the ordeals, lived to the west of the main encampment. Dorrok, the Brown Feather to whom I had been assigned, was standing before one of the tepees. He beckoned me to approach him, but made me wait before he spoke.
“Here you are not the Chief’s daughter; you are Piyanah who obeys me. You will share this tepee with three others: Kekki, Barakeechi, and Tekeeni.”
Before I could answer he turned away and went down the path towards the river. The tepee was smaller than the one Raki and I had shared, and had no centre-post. My new possessions had been put beside the dry reeds on which I was to sleep: two blankets, one with a neck-slit to wear in cold weather, a pair of moccasins, and a tunic of coarse leather, roughly patched together from the hides of small animals. I picked it up; it was hard and some of the skins had not been properly cured, so it had a disagreeable smell. There was also a food-bowl of yellow clay, made by an unskilled thumb.
I was glad that Tekeeni was going to be with me, and wondered if the others were angry at having to share their tepee with a girl. I went out and looked down the slope towards the Squaws’ Tepees. I could see three women plodding up from the river with water-jars, but there was no sign of Raki. When I heard the others returning I pretended to be setting the feathers in one of my arrows. I looked up as the boys came in and waited for a greeting; but even Tekeeni was careful to avoid looking at me.
Through the open flap I could see two Naked Foreheads carrying a cauldron by a branch threaded through its handle. I realized that I was very hungry; except for the broth Na-ka-chek had given us the night before, we had eaten nothing but bread for four days. I watched the others pick up their food-bowls and go out of the tepee. I followed them, and saw that the boys were crowding round a Naked Forehead who was ladling stew into bowls they held out to him. By the smell I knew the hunters had made a kill, for it was fresh deer meat. I wondered if Raki was having some too, or whether there was not sufficient to spare for squaws.
No one spoke to me; they either stared or pretended I was not there. Then one of them began to wind an imaginary bandage round his chest. His mimicry spread to the others, who began an obscene parody of the Betrothal Dance. I wanted to run away, but knew that would only give them a victory. I ate my stew very slowly, knowing that when it was finished I would have to think of something else to do.
A little spring bubbled out of the rock, and each boy rinsed his food-bowl there when he had finished eating. Through a gap in the trees I could see down into the encampment: three women were scouring cooking-pots…no, two women, for the third was Raki. I wished that I were really a man, and that it was the time of the Choosing, for then he could be my squaw, and we would go into the woods and never come back.
One of the Naked Foreheads picked up the empty cauldron to take it to the place of the cooking-fire. I wondered if he was resigned to being despised, or if sometimes he longed for the privileges he had forfeited. It must be lonely to live so near the squaws and yet be allowed no woman.
The tepee was empty when I went there. I wrapped myself in a blanket and when the others came in pretended to be asleep. I had not yet learned that after the sunset drum the boys were not allowed to talk, so I thought they kept silence because they did not want me to overhear.
I woke before the others and crept out without waking them. In the thick half-light I ran down to the pool where Raki and I used to bathe every morning. I hoped that he might be there, but though I waited as long as I dared, he never came. The day before I had pulled the bandage too tight, and my breasts were sore. The water was very cold, and in the grey stillness the brooding trees looked like sorrowful ghosts.
As I went back, I saw a group of boys, led by Dorrok, moving off towards the high pasture. Tekeeni was there, but I was uncertain whether I ought to join them, until he dropped behind the others and beckoned to me. He stayed beside me long enough to whisper, “I saved your bread. I couldn’t bring it with me, but I’ve hidden it under your blanket. We don’t have another meal until sunset, so you will be hungry.”
I smiled to thank him, and before running ahead he said hurriedly, “Don’t let the others know I’m trying to help you. They will soon accept you for one of themselves. Don’t forget the Chief is your father, and I’ll see they don’t forget it either!”
I felt much braver now that I was not quite alone. Tekeeni had been Raki’s friend, and it was almost like having a shadow of Raki with me. I wished I had been nicer to the squaws, for then there might have been women to help him because of their friendship to me. I wondered why my father had decreed that Raki must spend a moon with the squaws before, still dressed as a woman, beginning his training for the ordeals. Even then I should have very little chance to speak to him, for the boys were divided into two groups, and I was sure he would be kept away from me; and he would eat with the squaws and sleep in their tepees.
I repeated the conversation I had so often held with myself since I left Raki, “You must live as a boy, think as a boy, act as a boy…only then can you and Raki be together again. Raki has to be a squaw, so I will make all these boys realize that a squaw is better than they are. I will smile every time they mock me, but I will remember each boy who starts it until I can turn his mockery against himself. I will make myself beat him at whatever he is most proud of doing. I won’t let them hurt me. I will study the habits of the ones who are enemies, as though they were grizzlies that I was watching to learn the weakness in them through which I can capture their claws.”
In my imagination, Raki and I, both dressed as women, were receiving homage from all the tribal Braves. I had forgotten to be watchful, and Gorgi, the boy who had led the mimicry, tripped me so that I fell and cut my knee. I ran on as though I had only stumbled. It didn’t hurt much, but I could feel blood trickling down my leg. I knew that I was being watched to see if I looked down to find out if it was a dee
p cut, so I didn’t. They were going to be disappointed…for they had forgotten that Raki had taught me to share everything with him!
After we had been running for some time we came back to the river, which had made a wide loop round a hill. Here Dorrok told us that we could rest before the diving practice began. The boys sprawled on the ground, panting after their long run. I wanted to lie flat, to relax all the aching muscles which were still sore after their journey from our little valley; but I sat cross-legged, looking across the river to the mountains which were already covered with the first snow.
Though many of the squaws were strong swimmers they were not taught to dive. I felt a comfortable satisfaction, as a hungry man feels when his food-bowl is warm between his hands. … “They think I shall be frightened of diving. I hope Dorrok leaves me to the last. I wish the pools in our valley had been deeper, for it is more than a year since I could practise every day. I shall pretend that Raki is here watching me, and then I shall go in very straight, without a splash. Great Hunters, please let me do better than the best dive I have ever done!”
The boys were taking off their breech-clouts and tying back their hair with their forehead-thongs. I wondered whether I ought to take off my breast bandage, and decided to do so because it would be so uncomfortable to wear if it was wet. I saw Gorgi taking off an imaginary necklace and armlets, and pretending to unwind a bandage from his chest: several of the others were grinning with him; they thought it clever to copy whatever he did. I decided that Gorgi should be the first bear’s claw on my spirit neck-thong!
The river swirled past the foot of the cliff, but in a backwater there was a deep pool. Above it the rock formation split into a series of ledges, natural steps from which a diver could choose more than twenty different heights. The youngest boys went off a ledge lapped by the water. Dorrok watched them, usually in silence, but sometimes shouting instructions. After they had finished, four boys collected on the next ledge. Then I realized that each ledge was taken in turn, and that the boys knew which height they were expected to choose. Dorrok had expected me to join the youngest boys, but when I pretended not to see him looking at me, he must have thought that I had never dived before and decided to let me watch the others as it was my first day.
