The Warrior (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  At his approach she loosened her belt suggestively and stooped to enter the lodge. Following closely, the Susquehannock's eyes searched the interior for weapons and before she could sink to the sleeping robes he jerked them aside to disclose any weapons that might be hidden there. None fell forth and, unperturbed, the woman returned the robes to their place.

  This time it was the woman who flung aside her garment and opened her arms for the Susquehannock's embrace. Urgently he flung himself upon her and could not see the strong hand that pushed aside the dirt floor to draw forth the blade of E'shan.

  Behind his body, her hands met and with a power fed by years of pent hatred she pulled the knife to her. The razored blade slid almost without resistance deep into the Susquehannock's body.

  Agony beyond fire struck the Mud Dauber's back arching him violently before his lower half turned numb. The woman sawed her arms savagely, increasing the fire searing him, and without knowing how it had been done he saw death's rapid approach. Through his pain, the hatred and satisfaction flaming from the woman's face reached him, and in a final desperate convulsion he closed his mighty hands about her throat. He saw with dying eyes the Seneca's eyes dull, and before consciousness left him, he felt her throat crush in his grip.

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  So they lay when Friend Seeker found them, locked together in death, their features contorted, but their bodies still warmed by the life that had fled. Unknowing, their son slept beneath shade trees, protected from the horror by his few years of life.

  A runner had been sent by the Iroquois to tell Friend Seeker of a raiding party's presence and Mud Dauber's distinctive tracks within it. Without hesitation, the Seeker had raced east along the Juniata path. His hope had been to face the Dauber as he struggled from the swim across the Juniata. It was not a game, and the Seeker intended to drive E'shan's war arrows through the giant until his body lost its life, and perhaps deliver a skull crushing blow with a large stone to make certain.

  Despite his rush he had been too late. The Dauber's prints sank deep where he had left the river and Friend Seeker judged that the sun had moved since the Dauber's passing. He had not lost, however, for the Susquehannock's track was clear and his probable destination was known.

  Friend Seeker took the trail with confidence. Even if Mud Dauber had left the woman's lodge, the Susquehannock would be close, and this time he would follow until he caught and destroyed their enemy.

  At the Little Juniata, The Dauber had scrubbed himself clean and the Seeker shortened the gap between them. Thereafter, the Susquehannock merely trotted and Friend Seeker knew he had him.

  He approached the woman's lodge with arrow nocked; hearing no sound he circled to make sure that Mud Dauber had not passed beyond. Satisfied, he slipped close and listened at the lodge side. There was only silence and, although a warrior might control his breathing, Friend Seeker believed no life remained within the woman's lodge. A guarded flip of the entrance covering showed it was so.

  As a seasoned warrior, Friend Seeker had seen death in many forms. The warrior's path was one of violence, and those who trod its stony way experienced brutalities often beyond describing. Yet, in these deaths flowed many special currents. In the woman's, lay vengeance that could be respected, and for a woman to conquer a beast such as the Dauber was truly extraordinary. In these deaths lay rage, hatred, physical hungers, and brutal tragedy, but also there was the child. Few could believe that a single son repaid the suffering and death, but of it all, only the boy was lasting.

  He dragged the Dauber's limp bulk clear of the lodge. Even in death, the Susquehannock's muscularity was imposing and Friend Seeker gave thought to the giant tribe that had all but vanished before the Iroquois onslaught.

  Soon Mud Dauber's body would stiffen in rictus, but within a sun it would again soften and bloat with foul gasses. If undisturbed, it would be torn and scattered by crows and buzzards. Friend Seeker supposed that a fitting end for one whose life had lacked honor or useful purpose.

  He tore the flint knife from the Susquehannock's back and placed it uncleaned in his pouch. To the boy, it might someday be of meaning. The Dauber had carried an iron hatchet of great weight. Made for wood cutting, it took his improbable strength to wield it. The Seeker thrust it through his belt. It would be a gift for Rain and make her the envy of other squaws.

  He carried the woman to an overhang near the river's edge, wrapped her within her robe, and caved the earth in upon her. Eventually a spring thaw would raise the river and all that remained of the Seneca woman would follow her hunter's long vanished body toward the sea.

  He swung the child to his back, and the tiny arms gripped his throat with surprising power. He held the child in place by a hand beneath its bottom and began the long return to the Buffalo Creek fishing village. If the Iroquois still followed the Susquehannock they would find their chase finished.

  That would be the end of it, except for the boy clinging to his back. The child loomed in his mind and as the miles passed he found a concept so daring that he could barely contain it. The journey to the Buffalo Creek village gave him time to clear his thoughts and organize them so he would not sound a fool when he spoke of them to his friend.

  Though his arrogance was galling and he was as useless as an aged squaw for most things, his friend's mind was like the owl's and his thought could cut through the confusions of others. Late Star saw things others did not, and if his sarcasm could be tolerated, his insight would give strength to ideas. All knew that Late Star was gifted by The Great Spirit, but most also wished Late Star was not so aware of it.

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  Chapter 2

  Since the time of Three Feathers, Friend Seeker had taught the children of the Buffalo Creek village. Because of his teaching, additional lodges chose that place to summer. Fathers respected The Seeker's knowledge and took pride that their sons sat before a warrior honored even by the haughty Iroquois.

  The mothers approved because Friend Seeker cared for their sons and was quicker to voice approval than raise a hand. The Seeker's students vied for his smile or nod but those few who did not, strived just as mightily to avoid his frown.

  Though her time grew short, Blue Duck cared for The Seeker and kept his lodge as she had Three Feathers' before him. She grumbled because Friend Seeker did not choose a woman to help her, and, to reduce that deserved complaint, The Seeker engaged a number of hopeful maidens to assist the aging squaw with her chores,

  Within the Buffalo Creek village two voices carried weight; others only took sides or agreed. Friend Seeker bore the leadership in things of war and often in the hunt.

  In all other matters, Late Star's thoughts stood highest.

  Late Star too gave importance to the village. His council had become valued and disputes were brought from many marches for his settlings. Acerbic of tongue, with biting wit and often perverse insights, Late Star could reduce arguments to barest bones and resolve confusions with solutions both daring and visionary.

  Friend Seeker had studied the ways of the warrior and had trained under the tutelage of demanding teachers, so it was expected that he would be mighty in war. Late Star's abilities were less easily explained. The family of Late Star had not excelled and he had not sat among masters. Some believed his year as a Pistecataway captive had burned away confusions and cleared straight thinking paths. Most accepted that a few, such as Late Star, possessed great reasoning, as others might be best at fishing, stalking deer, or calling turkeys. Most also accepted that fishing, hunting, and calling were more practical abilities—even if wise counseling demanded special respect.

  Friend Seeker's life had become one with his village. He had replaced Three Feathers (who now lay beneath a hillside stone) as teacher and protector. His hatchets discouraged raiding bands just as the threat of his arrows strengthened the protective screens of similar warriors that ringed the Iroquois Nations.

  Late Star's presence was more difficult to explain. Before he led his lodge, his family had summered
at the fishing village but, as a wise counselor, rewards and recognitions would be greater within one of the large villages. Yet each spring, Star's lodge left the winter gathering to raise its poles across the path from Friend Seeker's recognized place.

  Most believed lifelong friendship wove together the spirits of Friend Seeker and Late Star. That this was so was demonstrated in the ceaseless exchange of insult and biting comment that would have otherwise drawn blood. A compliment to one inspired demeaning elucidation by the other, but to seriously question either meant to face both united as one, and that was plainly impractical.

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  Late Star's lodge was shaded by a maple whose branches swept low across the path. Star had devised a buffalo hide rest supported by short lengths of pole cleverly laced together. Where most sat cross-legged or leaned on an elbow, Late Star lounged within his comfortable seat. Friend Seeker claimed that a weak back and weak mind were companions; Star observed, in turn, that it took no special gifts to remain uncomfortable.

  As the season was still early, Late Star had positioned his lounge in the warmth of morning sun and occupied himself in shaping a length of green willow into one of the vile featured heads he enjoyed creating. His tool was a small iron knife given him by Friend Seeker.

  As The Seeker approached with the Seneca woman's child perched on a hip, Late Star eyed his knife with studied contempt.

  "It would seem that one claiming to be mighty in battle could provide his only friend with a knife that did not require sharpening after each stroke." With his fingers Late Star measured the blade and added, "Such a small knife; did you defeat a squaw to gain it?"

  Without reply The Seeker placed the bare bottomed child on Late Star's lap and adjusted a flat-topped stone on which he often sat. Late Star studied the child who, undisturbed, reached for the partly finished carving.

  Holding his knife safely clear, Star surrendered his carving to the child who proceeded to flourish it clublike. "One could hope that this babe will remain dry, oh Seeker," He studied the child suspiciously.

  Before turning attention to his friend, Friend Seeker too watched the boy child with interest.

  "I have come to speak of serious things, Late Star, not to listen to your usual prattle."

  "Prattle? You choose large words for one who has received many blows about the head, Friend Seeker, but I assume you wish to discuss this child who even now threatens my comfort." He shooed with his hands as he would at a fly, and The Seeker impatiently placed the boy on the ground between them.

  "It is about the boy. I have a plan for him but it will need your thoughts."

  "Plan? What plan? The child is an Iroquois. He will be returned to his people and adopted by a longhouse. No one here has chosen him; how else could it be?" Belatedly and truly surprised, he added, "You, Friend Seeker? You plan to claim this child?"

  Piqued, The Seeker responded, "Why is my friend so astonished? Am I so poor or without honor that I cannot choose a son?"

  "Friend Seeker, mighty on the war trails, disdainer of maidenly overtures, impatient with discussion, hasty to act and slower to reason, you, choose a child? You who . . ."

  Friend Seeker cut short the tirade.

  "Look at this child, Late Star. Is this only another round-faced milk sucker? He is twice a proper size. See his arms. They have shape and roundness like one grown. Does this child grin and dribble? Study his eyes, Star, they are not empty pools." He grasped the boy's stick and pulled strongly, "Look at his grip and see how he resists. He is different, Late Star."

  Impressed by his friend's intensity, Late Star became serious. "Your eye is true, Seeker, and the boy seems beyond his seasons, but why does that concern you? Any fool knows that children grow at different times. Ahead today, behind by winter is nothing notable."

  The Seeker seemed to change the subject. "We were almost men when I began warrior training, Late Star, and even then I was thought too young. Yet the lessons are still many and already I lose a little quickness of hand and foot."

  Disturbed by his friend's admissions, Late Star tried to lighten his mood. "Hummpf, woods chasing and war whooping seem simple lessons," but the Seeker ignored the bait.

  "Suppose that a special child, this child, was raised from the beginning to follow the warrior's path? Suppose the child was led to the wisest teachers and told only the brave thoughts? Suppose he was turned toward the best at every skill without seasons wasted in children's play? Suppose that we took this child and shaped him as Three Feathers could have, but without the softening of women's hands or maiden's eye battings?

  "Might we not create a powerful fighter to serve the people of the Iroquois? Might we not mold a warrior mightier than all others?" He stopped, but his eyes sparked with visions of what could be possible.

  Late Star was loath to speak. There was challenge in Friend Seeker's proposal. It charged the imagination and fired the spirit, but tuned to criticism he found a forest of difficulties and objections. For the moment Star avoided a direct answer.

  "Why this child, oh Seeker? Because he is here or because he grows swiftly? The fast growing willow shoot becomes a soft-wooded willow tree no matter how it is bent or cared for. Are a warrior's reflexes, his strength, his endurances within this child? Do you not risk many years only to find you labor over a willow?" He barely smothered his chronic cynicism and avoided saying, "And who would believe it worth bothering with anyway?"

  Friend Seeker considered for only a short moment. "This child's mother was as tall as I with a hunter's strength and quickness. If she had not been taken, I would have placed gifts at her lodge entrance. The Seneca woman was a special woman. You have heard the story so you know the father to be the Susquehannock, Mud Dauber. Laugh not at the name, oh Star, The Dauber plucked Iroquois feathers for many seasons and in single combat he was never defeated. He was cunning and a warrior of such presence that to look even on his dead body was to marvel. Mud Dauber, too, was special.

  "Do we not expect strength from strength and cunning from cunning? Even the best may at times deliver a toad, but plainly, my friend, not this time."

  The argument was sound and Late Star chose not to pick at it. Instead he returned to his usual baiting, realizing even as he did that Friend Seeker, who had shared his life, would see beyond sharp words.

  "And so you would see to our new warrior's fighting skills until he was as polished as your tomahawks, but you spoke of 'we'. I do not see my place in this I unless it is to provide meat for your lodge while you and the student chase each other through the forest."

  As Late Star never hunted, Friend Seeker could have smiled, but he intended to remain serious. "If this boy would become a mighty fighter he must have direction. We would train a warrior for the Iroquois Nations, not a wanderer like his father. His mind must be as honed as his blade and he must be strong in spirit to stand against those who flatter as well as those who will condemn. To fail in this would be to create only a finer killer and that, my friend, no one needs.

  "A youth so trained would be always alone. He would be forever different, and more would envy and perhaps hate him than would admire his strengths. This I well remember!

  "So the young warrior would need wise council. As his teacher my advice would become stale, but to another he would listen."

  Friend Seeker chose to prick Late Star's ego. "As no true seer honors our village, the friend of my years must provide the thought that lifts the youth's mind above ordinary things. Late Star will teach our student to question and to see beyond the obvious, My friend's task will be to breathe greatness of spirit into this young heart until he places his people and his honor above all other things." He paused, but Late Star sat silent, as though desiring more.

  Friend Seeker went on, "Our student must know The Great Spirit. His visions must be beyond those of most. He must revere the uncles long on the final trail and he must believe himself one with the old ones. After we, his teachers, have also gone along that path, those certainties must carry him
as true as a war arrow."

  Late Star grunted mild annoyance. "As no true seer has appeared, one could wonder that Friend Seeker chooses to continue with only his friend's poor wits to aid him."

  Pleased that he had touched the haughty Star, Friend Seeker shrugged resignedly, "A wise warrior uses any weapons available and," grinning broadly he added, "'A flawed blade defeats no blade.'"

  Unappreciative of having his own words used against him, Late Star bit deeper. "If you were not my friend, oh Seeker, I would not continue, but having so often defended you against those of more wit I am accustomed to your ill-conceived schemes. It is true that this time you exceed yourself, and I am pleased that no other ears share your embarrassment.

  "So who will care for this child when you are at other tasks?"

  "Blue Duck has agreed."

  "A woman's weakening touch for our mighty warrior?"

  Friend Seeker was tart. "Come Late Star, our wish will be to wean him quickly; I do not expect perfect results."

  "What will you teach a child who barely toddles and does not speak, oh muscled one?"

  "Small things, Star." Friend Seeker took the stick from the child's hands and proffered it again from the far side. "In this way I will encourage him to use either hand so each will be swift and strong."

  He held the stick in both hands and raised it so that for a brief moment the boy hung free. The child gurgled with pleasure, and the Seeker repeated the dangling activity. "With games we can grow strength and agility."

  "Friend Seeker, do you really expect a counselor of standing to piddle with these things?"

  "By the fathers, Star, when you so choose you can be as stubborn as a buffalo! When he is small you can think of ways to make him grow. When he is older you can inspire him with stories, for in that you are gifted. When he needs guidance you can persuade him, and when he reaches too far you too can redirect him."