Later that evening Walking Voice went about the village handing out invitation sticks to a Virgin’s Feast. It would be held the next day. Everyone went to bed looking forward to a day of showy ceremony and much good eating.
Judith got ready for bed only after she was sure Whitebone was sound asleep. She decided she would go to bed with her dress on. This also was not the usual custom with the Yanktons. But Whitebone was snoring so hard she was sure he would not catch her at it. And she would make certain to get up before he did in the morning. Wearing a dress in bed would help hide her difficulty. She scented herself thoroughly with wild perfumes, then carefully slid under the sleeping robe beside him. She was careful not to let cold air touch him. She was also careful to stay well on her side of the fur bed.
She lay still. In between Whitebone’s slow snores she could hear the gentle regular breathing of Scarlet Plume and Two Two. Tinkling slept soundless. So did Born By The Way. The stick fire slowly turned to ashes. Stars moved across the smoke hole.
The sand under the fur bed for once gave in just the right places and Judith had just about sunk away into the first fluff of sleep, when Whitebone, snorting, awoke with a start.
Judith stiffened awake. Her heart instantly began to pound, shaking her breasts. “Dear Lord,” she breathed to herself, “dear Lord, please let him fall asleep again.”
Whitebone lay very still. Only his breathing appeared to be off. He seemed to be quietly sniffing the air.
“Dear God, please let him fall asleep again.”
Whitebone spoke suddenly. “What is this I smell?”
Judith lay frozen.
“Woman, what is this I smell?”
“Wh-what?”
“I smell the crushed juice of many flowers. Have the mice gotten into the parfleche where the perfumed bear grease is kept?”
“Perhaps.” Judith let herself relax a little.
“Where is the dog Long Claws?”
“She sleeps.”
“Wake her and let her chase the mice away.”
“Ah, she is good for nothing but chasing rabbits. A mouse and a mosquito are all one to her.”
“Hrmm.” Whitebone continued to sniff the air. “It is pleasing to smell all the perfumes, but is it a good thing to waste it all in one night? Perhaps someone should arise and chase away the mice.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Whitebone grumped. “What is this ‘my lord’ you speak of?”
“It is only a manner of speaking among the whites.”
“Wagh. Is this because the white husband believes he has the right to knock down his wife like she might be a warrior?”
Judith recalled the fighting Utterbacks. She could feel her lips smile at the corners. “Perhaps.”
“Hrmm.”
They lay very still, each in their place.
Scarlet Plume and Two Two continued to sleep soundly.
Stars moved across the smoke hole.
Of a sudden, with a grunt, Whitebone rolled over on his side. He reached across and placed a hand on Judith’s belly.
Judith stiffened again.
“Woman,” Whitebone inquired mildly, “are you chilled that you wear a dress in bed?”
Judith quickly seized on the suggestion. She feigned a shiver. “A down draft strikes me from the smoke hole where I lay.”
“Can you not adjust the ears of the lodge to prevent this?”
“It is not a pleasant thought to get up in the cold night.”
Whitebone sniffed the air. This time as he did so his hand slowly stiffened.
Judith held her breath.
Whitebone drew in a long, long breath, his big nose carefully going over every atom of it.
Judith waited.
All of a sudden Whitebone let out a terrified scream. He convulsed into a ball and bounded up. He went up like a dog that her accidentally lain down on hot coals. He tumbled to one side of their bed. He groaned a great groan. He flopped up and down four times, then stiffened out like a board.
Scarlet Plume and Two Two came alive like two startled panthers. Born By The Way let go with a loud bawl. Tinkling threw a handful of bear fat on the fire and immediately the pink embers in the hearth exploded into high dancing flames. The sudden light was dazzling.
Judith was struck dumb. She turned and stared at Whitebone.
Whitebone’s old eyes slowly turned up into his head. His coppery face turned ashen gray. His whole body seemed to be gradually turning to stone.
Scarlet Plume jumped over. He stuck his broad face into Judith’s face. “What have you done to offend our father?” Scarlet Plume’s cold squared lips were those of a hated male.
Never had she seen such outrage in a man’s face. Husband Vince’s rages were laughable by comparison. A hot smell radiated from Scarlet Plume. She recalled her father once saying that when a wild boar really got mad one could smell the mad in him a mile off.
“What have you done to offend our father?” Scarlet Plume cried again.
Tinkling knew. She shrank back from Judith as far as she could on the women’s side.
“Tell us, what have you done to offend our father?” Scarlet Plume reached out as if to shake Judith.
“Do not touch her!” Tinkling cried to Scarlet Plume. Tinkling covered her mouth and her eyes. She shuddered.
Scarlet Plume drew back. “What is this?”
Tinkling whispered, “The white woman has done an evil thing.” Tinkling couldn’t resist throwing a spiteful look at Judith through her fingers.
Scarlet Plume stared at Tinkling. “What evil thing do you speak of? Our father dies and we wish to know what it is that we may save him.”
Tinkling spoke one word. She more hissed it than spoke it.
Scarlet Plume’s eyes opened in terror, and he jumped all the way back to the slanting wall of the tepee. Two Two also jumped back. Both stared at her as if she were some fearsome monster from the other side.
Judith felt horrid. It was her flaunting of a Yankton taboo that had thrown the old man into a seizure. In the eyes of the old chief what she had done was wickedly obscene. For a Yankton man to touch a menstruating woman was to invite some kind of ultimate barbaric curse. In all her life she had never seen grown men show such shock.
Humpneck Tinkling was the first to recover her wits. She ran over and knelt beside Whitebone. She touched his arms, his legs. “He turns cold. Quick, dig a hole under the hearth. The heated sand will restore warmth to his limbs.”
Scarlet Plume dropped to his knees, scooped up the fire with his bare hands and set it to one side, then dug out a shallow trench. Sand flew between his legs like he might be a dog digging for a gopher. Then together Tinkling and Scarlet Plume lifted the stiff chief into the trench. They crossed his arms over his chest and covered him with warm sand. Scarlet Plume quickly painted Whitebone’s face with vermilion to give him the color of seeming health.
Tinkling next snapped around at Judith. She grabbed a knife and cut a slit up the back of the tepee. She held the edges of the slit apart. “Step through this,” she said to Judith. “We cannot let you defile the front door with your going.”
Judith did meekly as she was told. She slipped out into the night.
Tinkling hissed at her. “Stand still until I can attend thee. When we have brought the old father back to life, and we have purified the tepee, then I will help thee put up the separation lodge.” She added more kindly, “Understand this. The Yanktons consider the woman spirit a powerful thing. If it is not kept in bonds it will destroy the man, perhaps even destroy the woman. When blood flows from that place where the child is born, it is a sign of the terrible power for harm in the woman. Therefore you must stay in the separation lodge until all danger is past.”
A picture of home in St. Paul flashed through Judith’s mind. She remembered how ardently she and Mavis had once argued in favor of equal rights for women: the right to vote, the right to own property in their own name, the right to appear in public without a hat, th
e right to nurse the wounded on a battlefield. In fact, both she and Mavis had taken the extreme feminist point of view in these matters.
A wild, hysterical laugh broke from her. “To think that I once got so excited about all that, and now I’m standing here.” Then she fainted and fell upon the pink sand.
Later, when she came to, she found herself in a little hut alone.
The tepees went to sleep. Only the center council fire burned on the pink sands. Guards dozed in the wolfberry brush on the far hills above the gorge.
The next morning from the darkness of her separation hut, looking out through a slit, Judith witnessed a wonderful thing. It was the unfolding of the Virgin’s Feast in the natural red rock amphitheater. It reminded her of the playhouse in St. Paul. There was the bright light shining down on exotically costumed players, and she was the audience sitting in the dark. Earlier it was explained to the Yanktons that Sunned Hair was temporarily lame and so could not appear for the ceremony.
Walking Voice made the rounds of the tepees after all had taken the day’s purification swim. “The woman known as Four Only wants all to know that her daughter Drowsy Eyes wishes to hold a Virgin’s Feast. Some gossips in the village have spoken bad words about her daughter. The mother wishes to show before all the Yanktons that her daughter is pure. All pure maidens, and all young braves who have killed an enemy but who have not yet lain in the grass with a woman, may eat at this feast. Yanktons, hear me. We worship the virgins. We pray to them. We cannot mistreat a sacred thing. The gods will punish us if we do. Thus it is that as long as our maidens remain virgins the spirit of the Buffalo Woman will send us much meat. This is true. I have spoken.”
The new medicine man, Center Of The Body, once known as Bullhead, placed a sacred stone on a slightly elevated drift of pink sand. Center Of The Body, gaunt, slate-cheeked, moved with slow, uncertain steps. He painted the stone red and ornamented it with specially selected feathers. He planted a long knife in the ground in front of the sacred stone. He scattered some dried sweet grass and silver sage on the ground around the stone and the knife. Then Center Of The Body retired to one side. Whitebone, restored to warmth and health, watched all that his new medicine man did with narrowed, intent eyes. It was apparent at the end that he approved of Center Of The Body’s performance.
Drums boomed out a steady beat.
Walking Voice cried, “Let the mothers with their pure virgins step forth.”
A dozen Yankton women led their daughters to the sacred stone. The maidens were all neatly dressed in white doeskin tunics. Each maiden had a red dot on both cheeks and vermilion painted down the parting of the hair. The hair was combed to a luxurious jet-black shine, hanging down straight and stiff to the shoulder. All wore a single yellow coneflower over the ear. One by one the maidens touched the sacred stone and looked to the power of the sky to declare their purity with a solemn oath. Done, they then stepped back a dozen paces and sat down on the clear pink sand in a semicircle. The mothers deposited gifts for the feast at the foot of the knife: venison, flatcake, boiled duck, sweetmeat made of buffalo brains, plum broth, and that rarest of all delicacies, choked pup cooked whole.
Walking Voice called aloud again. “Let the young braves come forth.”
A dozen handsome young men dressed only in clout and moccasins stepped from beside the stream, where they had been working on their toilet. They had made their faces savagely beautiful with fresh red paint and they carried the courting robe.
One by one, with flashing eyes and impassioned words and gestures, the young men related how they had killed a hated enemy and scalped him. This one had overcome a Pawnee, that one a Chippewa, that one an Omaha, and one even a white man. After all had spoken they formed a line facing the maidens.
Walking Voice turned to the rest of the Yanktons, assembled to one side of the ceremony. A few of the young boys had climbed up on a rocky ledge for a better view. Walking Voice cried, “If anyone among you knows of anything to say against any maiden sitting in this sacred circle, say it now.”
All were silent. For a single fleeting second the Shining People sat very stiff, as still as statues gleaming in a sculptor’s marble shop.
“It is good. Now let the feast begin.”
Four Only dished out the food on big pieces of ash bark and served all the virgins and their mothers. Four Only also dished out food for herself and her daughter Drowsy Eyes. From time to time Four Only flashed a black, suspicious look around at the assembly. Four Only was living with her fourth husband, her first three having been killed by the enemy.
Drowsy Eyes was comely, plump, and had a soft, languorous manner. She had the look of one who might very well have lain in the grass with a brave.
When the last one had been served, the virgins began to eat in a leisurely fashion, unconcernedly, looking to neither the right nor the left.
Silence. Everyone waited to see if there would be a challenge.
The young braves stared down at the maidens. The morning sun shone on their naked skins, some rose-brown, some penny-brown, some rust-brown.
The maidens continued to eat unconcernedly.
From her vantage point in the darkened separation hut, Judith was momentarily distracted by still another play. Up on a slope above where the Virgin’s Feast was being held, the she-dog Long Claws was behaving strangely. Long Claws was frolicking about alone in the tall grass like a young bitch in heat. Then, even as Judith watched, a wolf came slinking out of a patch of wolfberries. At first Judith thought the wolf meant to harm Long Claws. But then she saw that the wolf, a splendid male, had more the look of a lover than a killer. The male wolf’s phallus protruded glistening and pink in the sun. Long Claws seemed delighted to see the male wolf, and after frisking about a little more, presented herself to him. He promptly mounted her and made connection. Slowly he pumped her out of sight into the bushes.
“Disgusting.”
And only then did it come to Judith why it was that some of the Indian dogs had that crazy wild look.
When Judith looked back at the Virgin’s Feast again, she saw that the mood of the ceremony had changed. Whispering had sprung up among three of the young men. The three were known as Moldy Clothes, Large Organ, and In A Hurry To Become A Copulator. The last was better known as Copulator. Moldy Clothes and Large Organ seemed to be urging Copulator to speak his mind. Copulator apparently had once told them a certain story.
Copulator was tall, long-limbed. He impatiently flicked an elkhorn quirt against his leg. He had proud, thick lips. He had knowing eyes. It was apparent he had come to understand the way of a man with a woman.
Poor haggard Four Only glared hard at Copulator, then shot a worried look at Drowsy Eyes. Four Only feared the worst.
At that moment the new Contrary, Traveling Hail, wandered into view, walking on his moccasined hands. His head was hidden by the long fringe of his buckskin hunting shirt. His feet were covered by a hood on which was painted a grotesque face. He was throwing the influence of the spirit of heyoka into the assembly to counteract whatever was about to happen.
Copulator finally made up his mind. He stepped boldly in front of Drowsy Eyes. He pointed a belittling finger at her, a sneer on his thick lips. “You have been made pregnant by a snake. One I know saw the snake enter you. You are not a virgin. Why are you sitting in this sacred circle? I have said.”
Drowsy Eyes looked Copulator in the eye. Her face slowly darkened over. She was so angry that for a moment she couldn’t talk. She was beyond putting on the usual maidenly act of injured innocence.
All eyes narrowly watched both accuser and accused.
Copulator glared at Drowsy Eyes, imperious.
Drowsy Eyes glared at Copulator, steady.
Soon it was seen that Copulator was nervous.
The assembled Yanktons, noting the nervousness, immediately began to cry in unison, “Swear by the sacred stone! Swear by the sacred stone!”
Drowsy Eyes took courage. She rose to her feet. With queenly
bearing she stepped forward and knelt on the silver sage strewn on the pink sand. She embraced the sacred stone.
“Ahh!” cried the crowd. It was apparent that Drowsy Eyes was innocent. Immediately they began to jeer and howl at Copulator.
The accuser slowly backed away.
Drowsy Eyes looked him in the eye with blazing scorn. Her lips were squared in contempt. She said scathingly, “Ha! So you are the great copulator, eh?”
Copulator flushed purple. The elkhorn quirt in his hand began to whirl around and around.
Drowsy Eyes had more to say. “The only woman who will have you is your own hand. Well, lie in the grass with your own hand then.”
Some two dozen men and boys closed in on the would-be great copulator. They jeered him to the skies with high Yankton ridicule.
Copulator turned and fled up the Dells. He bounded like a scared jackrabbit being pursued by a pack of howling wolves. Sticks and stones flew after him. “Ha, ha!” cried the little boys. “See him run. Now he is truly in a hurry. Ha, ha!”
A thrilling shriek of triumph went through the camp. It was the mother Four Only. She was overjoyed. She shrilled once more, then collapsed on the pink sand.
Six days later Judith wandered downstream to take her purification bath. She knew of a lovely beach where the branch made a leisurely turn deep in the Dells. It was private, the pink sand was very fine, and the high red rock walls kept out the wind.
She slipped out of her doeskin tunic and leggings and moccasins. Kneeling naked at the edge of the slowly sliding stream, she scrubbed her clothes clean with pink grit, then draped them in the sun over a large boulder.
A small hollow of water gleamed beside the large boulder. It was a place where birds might come to drink and bathe. It was perfectly smooth and shone like a polished mirror.
She stood looking down at the hollow of water. She saw herself on its surface. Her blue eyes, she saw, had a lost, beaten look. Her hair, done up in two heavy braids, was strangely darkish. Her cheeks and neck were also strangely dark-skinned. She was quite thin, even stringy looking. The rest of herself she could recognize—a pink skin with a faint golden fuzz.
Scarlet Plume, Second Edition Page 22
