The Warrior (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series)

by Roy F. Chandler

  Late Star yawned in affected boredom, "There is no doubt that without the guidance of a counselor of special insight you will fail dismally, oh Seeker, for though his arm is strong, a warrior's mind lacks refinements—probably a dulling due to overstraining." He closed the conversation, "If a relative does not claim the child, or the Iroquois do not have other plans for him, I may observe, from a distance, and offer occasional suggestions. Or, as your friend, I may choose to avoid contributing to your probable embarrassment."

  Friend Seeker was satisfied; Late Star would participate. The Star saw what others missed and thought in ways that followed hidden paths. If those things could be taught, as could physical skills, or developed, as could strength and endurance, great feats might be accomplished.

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  Chapter 3: Age 5

  Small Warrior snuggled securely between the two men. He pushed himself against Late Star's hide seat so his eyes could see across the counselor's legs. Friend Seeker, his teacher, loomed above his other side and when gesturing, more than once knocked him solidly with an elbow.

  He often noticed how different the two smelled. Late Star's scent was cooked meat and kinnikinick. Friend Seeker's smell was cleaner, from the many baths and steamings in the sweat lodge, and it held more pine and wood smoke. He understood that Late Star bathed less often because he never exercised, while he and Friend Seeker sweat nearly all the time. Rare was the day that they did not sluice their bodies following the fierce exercising. Others, he had noticed, bathed on occasion, but his teacher told that an enemy might scent stale sweat and, in fact, no one liked the smell anyway.

  No other children sat at Late Star's fire and, if he had not always done so, Small Warrior would have known that it was not for a child to sit among elders in council. He did not speak and often fell asleep with Friend Seeker's powerful arm sheltering him.

  Small Warrior liked It best when the talk was of other places and when strangers came to the fire. Usually visitors came to hear the thoughts of Late Star, although it was most exciting when they came for Friend Seeker. Then his teacher chose arrows and disappeared into the forest. Often he was gone for days and Small Warrior sensed nervousness within Star and the others. He too felt unsure and exposed when Friend Seeker did not protect his side, but soon his teacher would reappear and powerful stories would fly across the fire circle. Usually the Seeker bore the expected scratches and tears of woods running but sometimes he had healing wounds from others' weapons. Once he lay for many days with terrible bruises on his body, and the maidens soaked his wounds with doe skins dipped in hot water. That time, even Late Star ceased his badgering and visited often with his friend.

  Late Star believed that being regularly exposed to the words and ways of elders would teach Small Warrior things that could not be measured and, when guests were not at their fire, both he and the Seeker could explain to him others of importance.

  "Do you know, Small Warrior, that most men of the Iroquois have two names? The first is given at birth; the second is taken at manhood. Once I was called Walking Son and Friend Seeker's name was Squash."

  Small Warrior knew about names and the thought of his stern teachers being called by child names was amusing, but he knew better than to smile and only nodded understanding.

  Late Star continued, "You, however, will have three names. Each will describe your skills and experience. Now you are Small Warrior; later you will become Young Warrior; and finally you will be called only, The Warrior."

  Three names sounded special to the boy. "When will I become Young Warrior, Late Star? Will it be soon?"

  "Not for many seasons. Before then you must become as strong as the hickory yet supple as a willow. You must run like the deer and hide like the squirrel. A thousand lessons must be learned and at least a thousand pains must be suffered. Then we will measure your height and count your scars. We will test your skills and question your wisdom. If all are growing, and none must lag, your name will be changed."

  Friend Seeker then spoke. "To be called The Warrior will be a mighty honor. Before then you will draw the bow of Friend Seeker with ease and none will approach your quickness or strength. Enemies will have fallen before your hatchet and your spirit will be hardened like the iron of your knife. Perhaps you alone will know when it is time to take the final name, for even your teachers cannot know all that is in your heart.

  "As Small Warrior, you do not live as others of your seasons. Small Warrior does not play in the stream, he does not cry in pain or anger, and no woman rushes to soothe him. If these things are hard, they will be as nothing compared to the trials of The Warrior.

  "The Warrior will guard this gate of the Iroquois Nation, but he will also travel far to defeat the enemies of his people. His name will be known throughout the tribes and squaws will tremble at the sight of him. Seasoned warriors will admire his skills and marvel at his courage. Green warriors will respect and envy him. Most will be nervous in his presence, for his ways will be far mightier than any others." The eyes of the two men seemed to burn to the soul of Small Warrior even as the words thrilled his mind.

  "Only once will The Great Spirit choose a son to be The Warrior. As we are bound and honored to show the way, you are destined to rise like a mountain above valleys.

  "Do you fear the challenge, Small Warrior?"

  Though his heart quailed the boy could only shake his head vigorously. As though knowing better, but understanding the gesture, both teachers placed a comforting hand on the small shoulders still soft with baby fat. Late Star spoke the final words.

  "See yourself as a giant among men, Small Warrior, for you will stand a head above others.

  "See your body thick with shapely muscle that will turn men's eyes green and make maiden's knees tremble.

  "See your eyes sharp with knowledge, cold with determination, hard with courage, yet soft with love for your people.

  "See yourself as a guardian of the Iroquois, a warrior above all other warriors, a fighter whose name turns away war parties and whose combats will outnumber the geese.

  "It is shown among the stars, Small Warrior, that The Great Spirit wishes it, so then it must be."

  Long after the boy was asleep, the men talked at their fire. As he had before, Late Star raised the great question.

  "Is any of this to be, my friend? Or do we paint foolish visions that our child cannot approach?"

  For one of the rare times the Seeker took Star's pipe and roiled smoke in his mouth before returning it.

  "You said it was shown in the stars, my brother."

  Late Star snorted, "Often one sees in the skies what one chooses."

  The Seeker shrugged, "The boy is already different. He is larger and stronger."

  "All of Large Fish's sons are not giants. Perhaps Small Warrior will not grow to great size."

  Friend Seeker began to answer, then held his words and leaned back with a sigh. "Late Star, why must you worry everything like a dog with a bone? You chew at this end only to switch to the other. For five turnings we have talked of these things. What more can we say?" He added with a hint of sarcasm, "Why ask these questions? It is not I who speaks with the old uncles."

  Star glared, "Do not scoff, Friend Seeker! At times I do hear voices from the spirit land. I too wish they were clearer, but the voices seem like stones tossed into water so that the ripples intertwine and it cannot be known which stone created which small wave."

  He tossed his chin in the Seeker's direction and settled himself more comfortably. "The trouble is, oh club swinger, that you think only of running and casting spears. Oh, you pass on the simple skills of tracking but unless it requires sweat, Friend Seeker is rarely interested." It was the Seeker's turn to bristle, but Late Star was already continuing.

  "It will be the mind of The Warrior that will prove his greatness. Was the Seneca woman wise, oh Seeker? Was the Susquehannock only cunning, or was he like the owl—if he truly was the father of Small Warrior? Will The Warrior be only a more powerful club
or will he out-think our enemies and be recognized as a leader to be followed and listened to? There is more to greatness than drawing the bow of Friend Seeker and to Late Star will fall the planting and nurturing of The Warrior's knowledge, for only he can do it well."

  Friend Seeker did not bother to glower or prepare a scathing retort. This too they had chewed over countless times. Late Star was right, in part, but even he did not understand the warrior's path for he had not trod it. He saw only the leaping and pulling.

  The building of courage, the disdain for pain, the countless tricks of combat, the abilities to see ahead and to live within the skin of an enemy—the listings were endless—were lessons learned and relearned. Thoughtful reasonings around comfortable fires did not prepare a warrior to smash through skim ice, to swim a river, or to tear through brambles to reach a path that might head off a deadly foe. There was more to learn than pulling a powerful bow and, for all of his wisdom, Late Star could know only a little of it.

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  Chapter 4: Age 11

  On a cool morning when the leaves were turning, they scouted far beyond the valleys Small Warrior had seen. The day was bright with color and the slanting sun warmed the soil and made it soft beneath their moccasins. Woods scents were rich on such a day, with clean pine mixing comfortably with moist humus odors. Skunks had been about, but their spicy tang had drifted and only touched the nostrils.

  Streams ran quiet in the fall and trout lazed in pools so clear that the fish seemed suspended in air. A few turtles sunned themselves on half submerged logs and beaver still labored at sinking leaf-heavy limbs in the pond bottoms.

  Occasionally their silent passage startled small animals who stared alertly before darting into concealment. Deer flags edged small valleys and the hunting could have been good.

  Their pace was Friend Seeker's favorite; he walked swiftly and Small Warrior had to trot to keep up. The boy was used to it, but this day they traveled far and before the first rest his legs were trembly and his breathing was hard.

  They went up the Buffalo Creek until it was only a step across. Then they turned on a narrow path that wound toward the north. At ridge tops he could glimpse the Tuscarora rising high but in the valleys the great trees cut out sunlight and their way could barely be seen. Once, a buffalo family thundered from a grassy clearing and Friend Seeker allowed a pause to study how the great animals had chewed the grass into its roots and where they had scratched their hides on favored trees that leaned just right. They took the buffalo's broad path and startled them again only a short distance away.

  Although traveling with Friend Seeker was difficult, Small Warrior preferred it to other activities. Everything was of interest to his teacher and some had important meanings that he was expected to remember. When birds flushed they looked for the fox; if a stream muddied, they found where a raccoon had washed its meal. Where buzzards circled, they found a panther's kill, and a bear's manure showed what he had eaten and, by its moisture and heat, they judged its recent passing.

  Those were hunter's skills and a warrior's went beyond them. Here, where a trail turned, an ambush could be laid; from a high place a length of path could be observed; an escape could be quickly made up a certain rock face which followers would have to avoid lest they be taken while climbing. Here, a ford could be run across, while there, a runner would wallow into bogs and berry thickets.

  This day they clung to trails and spent little time studying. When they ate, they squatted, keeping their loincloths dry, and leaning to drink from a spring with cupped hands.

  Later the turnings took them into the long valley behind Conococheague but before the sun began to fail they climbed to the summit far along the Conococheague where it joined other high ridges.

  Small Warrior's legs barely held him. His thighs were without strength; they had passed the fire burning time and had become mere clubs that somehow kept him upright and in view of The Seeker's strong back.

  The final climb angling up the mountain had finished him and the hurt was so great that he would have cried if he had remembered how. Instead, he stood as Friend Seeker stood, his head not reaching his teacher's armpit, looking across the maze of valleys they had traversed. His lungs sobbed and his heart thundered; his legs trembled with exhaustion and his knees threatened to betray him, but he stood in wait as sweat blinded his eyes and his hammering pulse clogged his ear.

  A great fire had cleared the earth where they stood and only blackened tree stalks remained. The breeze was chill across the mountain and it quickly restored both sight and hearing, although his legs still quivered like a frightened child's. He saw light sweat on Friend Seeker's shoulders and more streaked his sides where it had run, so he knew he had been tested. Only a few seasons before he could not have kept up and pride touched him lightly.

  The Seeker chose a downed tree trunk that fire had eaten almost hollow and waved Small Warrior down beside him. He pointed with his chin and Small Warrior's eyes turned to the almost endless run of wooded ridges.

  Before them, the two great mountains almost touched. Tuscarora and Conococheague on his left and Kittatinny on his right spread as they moved away, as though a giant wedge had pried at them. Between, the ridges ran and twisted, ended and began, with valleys of all sizes trapped within. Most of the ridges paralleled their closest mountain, but enough ran across to confuse a traveler. Small Warrior tried to judge where the Buffalo Creek village lay and could place it by the position of the Buffalo Mountain.

  "We have come far this sun, Small Warrior."

  The boy's quivery legs reminded him. Friend Seeker seemed to change the subject.

  "Once my teacher took me to an island and left me with nothing. For a hand of days I was to travel before I again came to our village."

  Small Warrior thought about it, imagining the adventure of scouting alone for such a time, but The Seeker already spoke of other things.

  "It is now time to look well on this land between the mountains, my nephew. Though you travel a thousand marches, only this place will be truly yours. It is yours because you were born on it, it is yours because you grow on it, and it is yours because you will protect it.

  "Such land becomes a part of a man's spirit and no other can replace it. There lie the bones of your mother." His finger pointed far along the edge of the Kittatinny. "Below the Buffalo Mountain wait the lodges of your people. In these valleys live the deer and the turkeys that will feed you."

  The Seeker's hand brushed away surface char and tore free a clump of earth laced with the tiny roots of growing. "This is the earth that will feed the squash and corn that will fatten your ribs when the cold giant comes." He separated a finger full of earth. "Taste the earth, Small Warrior, and remember it. If your memory weakens, taste it again, for a warrior without his own place is like a spirit without a body. Taste yours well, nephew, and let it become a part of you."

  Small Warrior took the earth gingerly, feeling with his fingers its sandy coarseness. Friend Seeker chose another and without hesitation placed it in his mouth and chewed while his eyes roamed the bowl of valleys below them.

  Small Warrior could hear sand grinding as his teacher chewed but there was powerful meaning in the act and he bit firmly into his own pinch of earth.

  Friend Seeker swallowed a number of times and Small Warrior understood why; the earth coated his mouth with its grit and the sound of his chewing crunched through his jaws and head. If they had water, it would have gone easier but he chewed on, swallowing when he could, but still unfinished when the Seeker spoke.

  "Remember the earth, Small Warrior, for it is a part of you. This land is the flesh and bones of your people. Into it have vanished the bodies of the bears, the squirrels, and all that fed on them. The trees and the grasses too have given life to this earth and received life from it, just as you and I have gained its strength."

  Although they sat in sunlight, dusk was darkening the deeper valleys and Friend Seeker seemed to judge its progress before continuing. "The
lands about which we speak are still strange to you. Today we strode across them with haste, but now you must begin to know them as you do our lodge floor.

  "In my youth, Three Feathers taught me to understand my land. Here, no enemy could trap me, for I learned each turning, each thicket, and every short way. That knowledge proved its value, but in the learning another thing became of importance." The Seeker breathed deeply through his nose as though drawing in the scents that flowed across the mountain crest.

  "This land between the mountains became special. When old wounds ache or new ones burn, it is to these hills I turn. When a trail has been too long and the spirit of Friend Seeker needs rest, he comes to these valleys. There is a smell here that is like no other, there are sights found only here, and the taste of this land is sweetest of all."

  As Friend Seeker's words drifted through his mind, Small Warrior sought to feel them, but the grit lodged between his teeth distracted him, and he resolved to consider them at another time. He also promised himself smaller earth tastings in the future.

  "Your paths will be many and your journeys will be long. As The Warrior, you will travel to the Great Lakes and you will see tribes whose names are rarely spoken, but these valleys will forever be your home.

  "When it becomes your time, Small Warrior, protect them well, for in all his life a man knows only one home place."

  Friend Seeker slapped his thighs in finality and again gauged the encroaching darkness.

  "Until the light is gone you will rest. Use the light to plan your return to our lodge. When it is dark the valleys will be yours and you will make your way as best you can to our lodge.

  "Travel as silently as the hunting owl, but as watchful as the mouse it seeks. At rising time your teachers will hear your story. Do not delay them, Small Warrior." Friend Seeker rose and stretched to loosen his muscles. Then he strode along the ridge and was lost from view.