“Or that we want to fatten you up before we eat you,” Burnt Hair added.
Carries held up the ear of corn, its husk blackened from the hot coals. “I thank this corn for giving its gift of life to us all.”
The other men nodded at his words. Giving thanks was always the right way. He peeled back the husk, picked free a few kernels and ate them. Then he placed the ear of corn in his lap.
“I will say more about how that man I have described came to us,” he said.
He spoke then of how that canoe had beached itself into the sand. How that man, a tall straight-standing person with a gentle smile on his face, had stepped out of it.
“I am Skennerahowi, the Peacemaker,” the tall stranger then told them. “I have come with a message from our Creator. The message I bring is that of peace.”
“We could understand his words,” Carries said. “Even though he was Wendat and spoke our language with a strange accent. There was something about him that made him seem different from other men. You could feel the presence of orenda, spiritual power, flowing from him. It was like a wave that washed over us. It touched something inside each of us. We listened as he continued to speak, telling us about his birth.”
chapter nine
THE BIRTH OF SKENNERAHOWI
The Peacemaker’s mother lived with her grandmother in a small lodge removed from their main village on the other side of the Beautiful Lake from the lands of the Longhouse Nations. Even there, though, there was no such thing as peace. All around them, the women and children and elders lived in constant fear. Any moment the terrible war cry might be heard and enemies would sweep into the village, killing people and taking captives.
Because the men of that village thought of nothing but war and revenge, and her granddaughter’s parents were dead, the grandmother decided to move them to a new place, a hidden cove by the side of the lake, a place where no one else ever went. The two of them lived alone there, safe from the danger of enemy raids.
The grandmother kept a close eye on her granddaughter. Even though she had come of child-bearing age, she was not yet married. However, it became obvious that she was expecting a child.
Tell me who the father is, her grandmother asked.
I do not know, her granddaughter replied. I have never been with a man.
The grandmother refused to believe her granddaughter. She kept asking and asking, but the answer was always the same.
I do not know. I have never been with a man.
Why was her beloved granddaughter lying? Perhaps, she thought, some evil spirit had done this at night while the innocent girl was sleeping. Yes, that must be it.
So when her granddaughter’s child was born—a handsome, smiling boy—the grandmother decided that the boy had to be evil. He would only bring them bad luck.
I must get rid of this child, the grandmother decided. There is no other way.
She waited until her daughter was sleeping, took down a stone ax from the place where it hung on the wall, and stuck it under her belt. As she lifted the child, the boy smiled up at her with great warmth and reached out one small hand to gently caress her cheek. For a moment, that smile touched her heart. But she shook her head. She knew what must be done.
She walked outside. A cold wind was blowing from the direction of the winter land. The ice on the big lake was frozen solid.
Taking a long pole from the firewood stacked outside, she began to walk out onto the lake, leaning into the wind. She walked until, when she looked back, their little longhouse seemed no bigger than a brown fallen leaf. Then she chopped a hole in the thick ice. When she was done she lifted up her great-grandson and quickly dropped him into the freezing water. Picking up the long pole, she used it to shove the baby far under the ice. Then she shoved ice and snow into the hole until there was no sign it had ever been there.
Without looking over her shoulder, she trudged back to the lodge. But even before she pushed aside the heavy skin hung over the door, she heard the sound from inside of an infant cooing. When she looked inside, what she saw made her knees weak. Her granddaughter was sitting by the fire and held in her arms, smiling and making little happy sounds, was that boy.
Now the grandmother was sure that the child was evil. How else could any being, especially a tiny baby, have survived the icy water of the big lake? And how could it have appeared back in the lodge before she returned? So she did not give up on her plan to get rid of him.
The next day, she walked deep into the forest. Under a great pine tree, she cleared away the deep snow from a patch of ground. The earth was frozen on top, but she worked hard to break through the icy soil with that stone ax. Then she began to dig. When the hole was as deep as her waist, she climbed out and went back to the lodge where her granddaughter had just finished feeding the baby.
“Here,” the grandmother said, holding out her arms. “Let me take him outside. The fresh air will do him good.”
“I am sure that is so,” her granddaughter said, handing the baby to her grandmother without hesitation.
The grandmother went outside. As she carried the boy toward the hole she’d dug, he reached up both hands to touch her chin and looked up into her eyes.
“No,” the grandmother said. “No.”
She dropped the child into the hole and began to shove the earth over him. When the hole was filled and she had stomped the soil down hard, she pushed a great mound of snow over it, leaving no trace of what she had done.
“The earth will surely hold him,” she said, wiping off her hands.
But when she went back into the lodge, the first thing she saw was that evil child, once again cooing in his mother’s arms.
That night the grandmother did not sleep. What could she do now? Clearly the baby’s evil magic was strong. But she could not give up. There had to be a way. Then it came to her. There was an answer. Evil could not survive against the cleansing flames of fire.
The next day she made a fire some distance from their lodge. She piled on dry branches and then logs. Before long it was burning so hot, she had to step back from it.
She went back into the lodge, her forehead beaded with sweat from the fire’s heat.
“Give me the baby,” she said.
Without a word, her face calm, her granddaughter did as her grandmother asked.
As the grandmother carried the infant, he kept smiling up at her. The boy was still smiling as she lifted him and hurled him into the heart of the raging fire. Then she piled on even more wood. She stayed there watching until the fire had burned itself out and there was nothing left but ashes.
“Now,” she said, “now his evil is certainly gone from the world.”
But when she returned to their lodge, just as had happened each time before, she heard the happy sound of the infant’s laughter before she even pulled back the skin door.
That night, once again she could not sleep. She sat on her sleeping rack, unsure what to do next. Then, in the midst of the night, she heard someone scratch on the door of the lodge. She looked up and saw the shadowy shape of a tall man standing before her.
A man’s deep voice spoke, a voice that she heard more in her heart than in her ears.
“I have come from the west,” the shadowy shape said. “I bring you a message. Your granddaughter has done nothing wrong. She has told you the truth. Her son is good. He was sent by the Creator to bring peace. There is too much blood being shed among the people of the earth. When he has grown to manhood, he will travel among the different nations and bring them the message of peace. He will be known as Skennerahowi, the Peacemaker. Now you must stop trying to harm your great-grandson.”
Then that shadowy figure walked away and disappeared into the darkness.
The next day, when the grandmother looked outside she saw in the new snow the tracks of a giant hare leading away from the door of their lodge toward the di
rection of the sunset. She knew then that she had been visited by a messenger from the Creator. From that day on she showed nothing but love toward her blessed great-grandson.
chapter ten
THE COHOES FALLS
When Carries was done with his tale, everyone was silent for a while.
Then Burnt Hair spoke. “That is an interesting story,” he said.
A wonderful story! Okwaho thought. It was a story that made him feel something deep inside himself, something other than anger. What was it? Hope. That was it. That was what he felt, for the first time in a long time, hope like a small bird just beginning to flutter its wings.
“It is a good story,” Carries agreed.
“But you did not see it,” Holds the Door Open said in a neutral voice.
“No,” Carries replied. “But I saw him. I heard his voice. It is true that I can only tell you the story as he told it to us. But it is also true that I felt the power of his message as I listened to those words. I felt the truth of it. I can tell you that I felt as if the man who told that story was not trying to deceive us. He truly was Skennerahowi, the one who would bring peace to all of us.”
“I see,” Burnt Hair said.
Burnt Hair was not an easy man to impress. But Okwaho could hear a note of awe in his voice. He had felt moved beyond words when Carries spoke the Peacemaker’s story. He looked around at the gathered people and saw they were feeling what he was feeling.
“His words changed you,” Holds the Door Open said to Carries.
Carries nodded. “I had another name then, but I threw it away on the day I heard his words of peace. I became one who would help carry that message. I became Carries.”
He placed his hand on the bird tattooed on his chest. “I had this cut into my skin, as a sign that I would be a message carrier for the rest of my days.”
Of course, Okwaho thought. Of all the birds, it is always blue jay who first calls out to alert all to danger approaching.
Carries looked down at his hands as if they were holding something—even though they looked to be empty.
“That is not the only story you have to tell us, is it?” Okwaho’s mother, Wolf Woman, said.
Everyone turned to look at her. Although Atatarho no longer listened to the wise words of women, words that had always guided all the Longhouse Nations in the past, everyone in their small breakaway village not only remembered that time but always honored the words of their women. In fact, it was the women who headed each of their families who made the final decision to leave the big village among the hills.
“No,” the tattooed man said. “I have another story to tell about the Peacemaker if you want to hear it.”
“We do,” Wolf Woman replied.
Carries reached into the larger of the two pouches that hung at his belt. The shape of a tree in red dyed porcupine quills had been sewn onto it with sinew. He opened his pouch, reached in, and took from it a stone. He touched the stone to his chest and then his lips before holding it up for everyone to see.
“This stone is one I took from the River of Rapids, from the place called Cohoes where there is a great waterfall. It is not far from the River Beyond the Openings, Skanehtateh Kahuntah. Our Flint Stone People tell an old story about that waterfall. They say that long ago a great monster was defeated there, thrown over that waterfall to its death. It was a beast as big as a hill, covered with long hair. It had two great teeth that stuck out like spears and a long lip that it could use to grab people. Have you heard of that creature?”
People nodded, Okwaho among them. His mother had told him about that beast, the Walking Hill. It lived long ago and attacked villages, crushing people under its feet. Finally the Holder Up of the Heavens came to earth and destroyed it.
Carries smiled. “I am not going to say more about that. I only mention it so that you may have in your mind the image of the place where something great happened. I am going to tell you the story of the Peacemaker at Cohoes Falls.”
* * *
• • •
One morning, the people of the Flint Stone village near the great waterfalls woke as they always did to greet the first light of the sun and give thanks for the new day. That was when they saw a thin feather of smoke rising from the direction of the falls. They knew it meant that someone was announcing his presence and asking through that smoke permission to enter their village.
Their great war chief, a man of the Turtle Clan—for theirs was a Turtle Clan village—called two runners to him.
“Go,” he said, “see who has sent up that smoke and if that person has come in peace. If not, then kill him.”
Those two men did as their chief asked. When they arrived at the hill overlooking the falls where a single tall tree hung out over the rushing water, they found a stranger sitting and smoking his pipe.
“Come here,” that stranger said in a calm voice. “I mean you no harm. I have something to tell you.”
The two runners approached the man warily. He seemed to have no weapons, but in this time when war and fighting were everywhere, they knew they had to be careful.
“What do you want?” the first runner asked.
“I want to enter your village,” the man who was the Peacemaker said. “I have an important message for your war chief and all your people.”
“Hah,” the second runner said. “Who are you? Why should we not just kill you right here?”
“I am Skennerahowi,” the Peacemaker replied. “Before you kill me, I ask you to tell your war chief I wish to talk with him. If he does not agree, then you can come back and kill me.”
The two runners looked at each other. No one had ever spoken to them that way before, showing neither anger nor fear.
“We will take that message to our war chief,” the first runner said.
“Thank you,” the Peacemaker said. “I will wait here for your return.”
When they got back to the village, the two runners told the great war chief about the calm man they had found sitting on the hill overlooking the falls.
“I have heard of this one from my assistant chiefs. I doubted what he told me. But now I would like to see this brave man,” the war chief said. “Bring him back to our village.”
When the Peacemaker arrived at the village, he found that a place had been made for him to sit in front of the war chief and his two assistants. As soon as the Peacemaker had been seated, the war chief stood up and spoke to all the people gathered around them.
“I think I know who this man is,” he said. “I believe this is the one we heard about who arrived from across the lake bringing a great message. My second war chief has spoken about this man, saying that his message about peace sounded good to him. I could not believe that what he said was true, but now this man has shown up here. So let us listen to him now.”
When the war chief finished speaking, he sat down and the Peacemaker stood up.
“It is true,” he said. “I sent a message with the first men I met, men of the Flint Stone Nation. I asked them to spread the word that I was coming to bring a better way of living than warfare to the People of the Longhouse. It is a way that begins with peace. When our minds are good and we all are of one mind, then peace may begin. Our Creator is sad that our people are killing each other. So many good people have died. I have come to stop the fighting and bring back the peace we were meant to live in. Long ago, our Creator placed us here to live in harmony with each other, to always show kindness and respect each other. But your minds have been twisted by war. What you must do now is give up those weapons of war. New leaders who will always be men of peace must be raised up by the clan mothers. And those men can only remain as leaders as long as they do not go to war. If they do not do their duty, they must give their title back to the clan mothers. The job of those new leaders will always be to keep the peace strong.”
When the Peacemaker sat down
, the second war chief was pleased. Perhaps, he thought, the people will now listen to this message and peace will actually come.
But then the great war chief stood up again. “I like this message. However, I am not sure that it is possible. I doubt that it will work.”
The war chief then sat down and his first assistant stood up. He had made fun in recent days of the second assistant war chief for believing such an impossible thing as one man being able to bring an end to all warfare between the different nations.
“I agree with our great leader,” the first assistant war chief said. “I do not trust this stranger.” He looked over at the second assistant war chief and shook his head. “I think he must prove himself. If he is truly a messenger from the Creator, then he must have the Creator’s protection. Let us test him. Does everyone agree?”
He looked around the circle of people gathered. No one spoke against his idea. Then he looked hard at the Peacemaker. “Do you agree to whatever test we choose for you?”
“I agree as long as all the people are there to see what happens.”
“Good,” the chief’s first assistant said. “This is how you will be tested. At the edge of the cliff over the great waterfall there is a big tree. One of its branches reaches out over the falls. Tomorrow we will all go to that tree. You must climb out and sit on that branch and stay there as our warriors cut the branch from the tree. All the people will watch as you fall to your death.”
“I will do as you ask,” the Peacemaker said, his voice as calm as ever.
When the sun rose the next day, everyone gathered at the gorge. They watched as the chief and his two assistants and a small group of warriors carrying stone hatchets led the calm stranger to that tree above the rushing water. They continued to watch as the doomed man climbed out to the end of that branch. Using their sharp stone hatchets, the warriors chopped at that branch until it broke off the tree. They still watched as the Peacemaker was swept over the falls and was lost from sight in the foamy water striking the jagged rocks far, far below. They kept watching, but although the branch bobbed up and was carried down the river by the swift current, there was no sign of that foolhardy man who had claimed to be the Creator’s messenger.
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