by Becky Norman
This time, Lynta took up the last space on the couch, with Noel seated between her and Lori, and Jeret produced the book on Tecumseh that Noel had been reading. He sat down with a flourish in the wingback, crossed one leg over the other and opened to a spot he had previously marked.
“Now, my children, gather round and you will hear an amazing story of love, determination, freedom and conviction.”
Noel shook his head with a grin. “Love, is it?”
Jeret winked at him. “Well, maybe in the greatest sense of the word.”
Lynta and Lori laughed at him; Noel grinned. “Fair enough,” he conceded.
“Actually,” Jeret said, flipping through the book. “It’s pretty interesting, Noel – I picked it up and looked through some of it the other night. I think if Tecumseh hadn’t been killed, North America might look a whole lot different today.”
Lori looked at Noel; he nodded subtly, his eyes not leaving Jeret. “I know it would. For one thing, America as owned by the ‘new’ Americans would be a lot smaller. He was trying to create a nation for his people that would run west to the Mississippi then south to the Ohio River and north to the Great Lakes. That’s a fair chunk of land.”
“And when he was campaigning,” Jeret added, “trying to gather all these different tribes together, he rode from Alabama to Canada on horseback to speak to his people.”
“I have a new hero,” Lori teased and was rewarded with a beaming smile as Noel turned to look at her with affection.
“If he had succeeded,” Noel said wistfully, “he would have been considered one of the greatest heroes – leaders – revolutionaries of all time. Unfortunately, now he’s rarely remembered at all.”
“Well, we’ll change that tonight,” Jeret averred. “I found some quotes of his in here that are amazing.”
Jeret lifted the book and was about to start reading when Noel raised his hand, stilling him. “Before you do, Jeret, we should probably explain a very important part of Tecumseh’s story to Lynta and Lori – about his brother.”
“Ah, yes,” Jeret agreed. “Is that why you were reading about Tecumseh, by any chance?” he asked in inspiration.
Lori looked back at Noel and saw him nodding in Jeret’s direction. “I thought there might be something in there about how it all got started, you see. The momentum, the vision, the plan.”
“What are you two talking about?” Lynta said with a laugh.
Noel turned to her and began to gesture with graceful hands as he explained.
“Tecumseh had a younger brother, named Lalawethika, who always lived in his older brother’s shadow growing up. The boys’ father had died before Lalawethika was born and their mother left them shortly afterwards so Lalawethika essentially grew up alone. He didn’t get along well with his older siblings and was a bit of a loudmouth – that’s essentially what his name means in Shawnee – so the rest of the tribe treated him as a laughingstock. He shot his eye out in a hunting accident, started drinking heavily when the white people began to insert their influence, and eventually became such an alcoholic that he couldn’t provide for his family.”
“When was this, Noel?” Lori asked out of curiosity.
Noel turned to her and sat back so that Lynta could see them both. “Tecumseh was born sometime in March of 1768 and Lalawethika sometime in 1775. But in 1805, while Lalawethika was in a drunken stupor, he fell into a fire and suffered such terrible burns that his tribe was certain he was dead.”
Noel ran his thumb and forefinger around his mouth; a gesture Lori had come to recognize as something he did when in deep thought.
“The tribe even began mourning him, when he suddenly woke up and revealed to them that he had been given a vision. He had been told by the Great Spirit that they needed to move away from the white man’s influence and go back to the ways of their own people. They were supposed to stop drinking alcohol, stop wearing the white man’s clothes –” here Noel picked at the sleeve of the denim shirt he wore “ – and live the life the Great Spirit had intended.”
Noel paused to take a breath and Jeret took up the story.
“In a way, it was the perfect inroad for Tecumseh, really. He was the warrior, the patriot – and his brother had just become a prophet – or at least a religious leader – so that Tecumseh could use what his brother was saying as proof of the truth of his message.”
Noel smiled across at Jeret. “You make Tecumseh sound quite manipulative, Jeret.”
Jeret snorted. “And you don’t think he was? He certainly knew how to take something poignant like his brother’s vision and use it to his advantage.”
Noel thought about that and then shrugged. “You call that manipulative; I call that influential. I honestly believe the brothers were chosen – together – to each play a role in that movement. Lalawethika – who changed his name to Tenskwatawa, or ‘The Open Door’ after his vision – was the call to arms. Tecumseh was the use of those arms. I don’t doubt for one second that both of them had a special role to play and were literally chosen to take their part.”
“No, I suppose not,” Jeret conceded. “And some of the things Tecumseh said were pretty amazing.”
Jeret opened the book again and with a quick look at Noel, who nodded his approval, he began reading. “This is one of his quotes: ‘The way, the only way to stop this evil is for the red man to unite in claiming a common and equal right in the land, as it was first, and should be now, for it was never divided. We gave them forest-clad mountains and valleys full of game, and in return what did they give our warriors and our women? Rum, trinkets and a grave.’”
Jeret looked around to make sure everyone was still paying attention and then resumed. “‘Brothers--My people wish for peace; the red men all wish for peace; but where the white people are, there is no peace for them, except it be on the bosom of our mother. Where today are the Peoquot? Where today are the Narrangansett, the Mohican, the Pakanoket, and many other once powerful tribes of our people? They have vanished before the avarice and the oppression of the White Man, as snow before a summer sun.’”
Noel reached out his hand for the book and gave Jeret a grin. “Not bad on the pronunciations of those tribes...for a white man,” he added with a wink.
Lori helped guide the book over to Noel’s waiting hand. She was learning much from all this discussion but wasn’t sure what on earth it had to do with snow leopards coming to her in dreams.
“Those were good passages if you’re looking for words to stir the heart and get you in the mood for a revolt,” Noel said, “but I was thinking more along the lines of this one.”
He crossed his leg across his knee to balance the book, flipped to the page he was looking for, and began to read in his soft, warm voice. As he did so, Lori felt the hair stand up on the nape of her neck.
“‘So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.’”
Noel looked up and smiled at the group around him, listening to the words from this long-dead warrior. “I like that,” he said. “‘If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.’”
He waited a moment and it seemed to Lori that he was savouring those words as he stared off into a space between here and there. Then he ran his finger down the page and found where he had left off.
“‘Abuse no one and nothing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs
the spirit of its vision. When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.’”
Stillness fell over the group and then Lynta stirred on the other end of the couch. “It’s beautiful...but it’s awfully morbid, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Lori agreed, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s pretty intense. But did you say you thought that had something to do with what’s happening with the four of us, Noel?”
He shut the book then stood and walked over to the shelf, gently placing it back in its place.
“I don’t know. I can’t say why it would – there’s nothing there that ties in with the big cats or the changes happening in us – but I just feel it. There’s something there, aside from his general philosophy of life.”
He clutched the fabric of his shirt above his heart and looked down at the floor. “I think,” he began tentatively, “that there’s a message for me there – especially for me.”
“Well, I can see that,” said Jeret, leaning back in his chair. “After all, with a name like Tecumseh, you’ve got a pretty good signal that it’s tied into the cats.”
Lori twisted to look at him in confusion. “What? What does that mean?”
It was Noel who answered from where he stood. “He means because of Tecumseh. Te-cum-seh,” he repeated, with punches of breath between each syllable the way aboriginals spoke their languages. “It means ‘Celestial Panther Passing Across.’ Apparently the original Tecumseh was born the night a comet streaked across the sky and many believed that light was the reflection from a black panther jumping from mountain to mountain.”
Noel shrugged uncomfortably and looked at Lori. “So I guess it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I was visited by one.”
**********
Lynta had to leave shortly after Noel’s revelation, but Lori was dying to know more. She was relieved when Jeret offered to drive Lynta home and she had a few uninterrupted moments to speak to Noel in private.
He had come to sit back down next to her on the couch and they both faced each other, tucking a leg up underneath themselves to accommodate the other’s space.
“Noel,” she began tentatively, seeking to find the right words. “Don’t you find that kind of intimidating? Having an ancestor like that?”
He chuckled, giving her a flash of wolf teeth. “It’s only as intimidating as you let it be. It’s just a name, Lori.” He said it with a wink, though, and Lori knew differently.
“It’s more than a name to you,” she said seriously and his face grew darker. “It sounds like it’s more of a legacy.”
“Yes, it does. I don’t say that I’m a Shawnee warrior by any stretch of the imagination – his blood has been so watered down in my veins that there’s probably very little similarity between the two of us. But I can’t help thinking it’s more than coincidence that I come from a line of people who believed in the omen of a black panther blazing across the sky and one has decided to come visit me on a regular basis.”
He gave a crooked smile as he looked at her and then reached down, playing with the crease of his jeans. “When I was a child, we were told that story, about a panther leaping from mountain to mountain in the dark...and we were scared when we saw falling stars. We thought the cat was coming to get us and we’d run inside.”
Noel smiled again with melancholy, still looking down at his jeans but Lori knew he was looking much further than that. “Except when I got inside, the cat was waiting for me there, too – he was everywhere in my imagination. On my bed at night, in the closet waiting for me to get my clothes in the morning, under the table when I ate breakfast...”
He looked up at her then and his eyes pierced her heart. “Every time in my life, Lori, when something important or significant has been about to happen...like going away to school, or enduring the deaths of my parents, or meeting all of you...he’s been there. He’s been a source of comfort and healing, I suppose...but he always acts as if there’s more. And I get frustrated sometimes, too, that I’m not getting it.”
Lori reached out and gently touched his fingers with her own. “Noel, you’ve talked to me before about ‘The Process’ and letting the messages come in their own good time. You told me not to force the issue, to not try and push through, but just observe. You have to have patience with yourself, too.”
His hand had stilled under her touch and she wasn’t sure if she should withdraw or leave her fingers resting on his. She was just about to pull back when he covered her hand with his own and held onto her lightly. Her eyes were riveted to where their hands met; she could feel small electrical pulses extending up to her wrist from his touch.
“Lori, did you know that black panthers don’t really exist as a species?”
She looked up at his coal-black eyes, shaking her head mutely, wondering where this was going.
“Black panthers are really either jaguars or leopards – there’s just a genetic mutation that causes the pigment of their skin and coats to turn black. So...many years ago, I tried to figure out which one was associated with me – the jaguar or the leopard.”
He checked to make sure she was following and went on. “One clue I thought I understood. My name isn’t really ‘Noel.’”
Lori raised her eyebrows at that and he squeezed her hand, acknowledging her reaction.
“It’s really Nahuel, which means ‘jaguar’ in the native tongue. It’s just that white people couldn’t get their tongues around it properly.”
He grinned at her and she smiled back.
“So everything about you is linked with cats, then,” she observed.
“That’s about the size of it. I did a lot of research on black panthers when I first became aware of what was going on and I thought, what with my first name being Nahuel, it was a jaguar that was coming to visit me, but now I’m not sure it is. I seem to see more of the leopard characteristics coming out in me...and I wonder now if that ambiguity is really what it’s all about for me. That I’m maybe just represented by cats in general – or several different kinds. But I don’t know why that should be when the rest of you have all been identified by one particular species.”
“I think I can answer that one for you,” Lori answered with a surprising amount of certainty.
It was Noel’s turn to cock an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”
“Well, Noel...whether you want to admit it or not, you’ve kind of taken on the role of leader in our little group so far. You seem to be...I don’t know...more ‘grounded’ than the rest of us. You’ve been seeing cats longer than we have for one thing, and you’re certainly calmer and cooler around them than I am. And with the meanings behind your names...” Lori shrugged at him. “I don’t know. I would say you do have a legacy to live up to here. Maybe you’re supposed to lead us somewhere.”
He squeezed her hand again, but this time closed his eyes in frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t say that!” he said in angst. “I don’t know where we’re supposed to be going!”
She laughed and squeezed back. “Now you know how the rest of us feel! You’ll know when the time is right. You’ll know. You’re better at reading the signs and interpreting what things mean. You’ve been right with everything you’ve surmised so far, haven’t you?”
He nodded and she went on. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe you’re not missing the signals, but rather that the messages just haven’t come yet?”
Noel nodded, deep in thought. “Yes. Yes, I have thought that. But I feel as though you’re all looking to me for direction and I have none to give.”
Lori reached over and patted his hand with her free one, then gently slipped both out of his grasp. “You will when the time is right. I know you will. Just be patient, Noel – maybe we’re not supposed to be doing anything
right now. Maybe the cats just want us to assemble and wait.”
Lori stood up and stretched her legs while Noel mulled that over and nodded. “Don’t do anything – just be,” he murmured.
She looked down at him and grinned. “You see? Only leaders say odd things like that.”
Chapter 14
Lori’s leg had fallen asleep during their conversation; she explained as much to Noel and took a quick tour around Jeret’s apartment before coming to sit back down next to him. She felt honoured to have this time alone with him and secretly hoped Jeret would take his time coming back.
When she returned to the couch, she started the conversation with a question she’d been dying to ask since she’d met him.
“Noel, can I ask you something personal?”
He sat back, getting comfortable on the sofa next to her. “Ask away.”
She hesitated, trying to think of a way to phrase it without offending. “You seem to live...differently...than a lot of us do. And I know you always tease me about being afraid...but don’t you ever worry about where your next meal is going to come from or where you’re going to live?”
He studied her face for a moment and then shook his head. “I don’t worry, no. I used to, but I found it did me no good – in fact, it probably did me a lot of harm when I was young – so I stopped doing it.”
Lori laughed. “Just like that? It’s not that easy to just stop worrying.”
He smiled back at her. “No, I agree. It took some discipline on my part and it also took some experience to see various results, but it gets easier, over time.”
He leaned forward slightly and rested his hands on his leg. “One of the basic tenets I’ve learned to live by is that you create what you believe. Almost every major religion has some element of that in it. Do you remember me telling you that I believed in all religions to some degree?”
He looked to her for confirmation and she nodded.
“Well, if you observe your own behaviour – and those around you – and listen to the teachings of all the world’s masters, there’s that one element of truth: whatever you focus on is what you bring into your life. So if I worry about ‘bad’ stuff, I’m going to have bad stuff happen. If I focus on all the good opportunities that could come my way, they do.”
