The man pointed at the water, then passed her a cooked fish. He also passed a small birch dish filled with a selection of wild berries.
“Eat. Drink.”
Kiera held the fish. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of sinking her teeth into some food, but she hesitated and watched her visitors. She observed the two strangers as they removed the fish from the stick, then pulled the meat from the bones with their fingers. His mouth full, the man gestured again for Kiera to join them. Kiera could no longer resist. She attacked the food ravenously. The fish was delicious. She then realized how long it must have been since she had had her last meal. The food also seemed to help clear her thoughts. She looked again at her wrapped leg. She tried to move it, but a sharp pain fired up through her body and took her breath away.
The man seemed startled by her action. “No move!” he commanded.
He said things that she did not understand. Kiera, confused and in pain, shook her head. The man looked around and found a twig. He pointed to his shin, then took the twig and bent it until it cracked, then pointed at her, trying to tell her that her leg was fractured. Kiera eased herself backwards and stared up into the speckled sky. This was what she had suspected.
She was helpless. She could not move, let alone get home. What was she going to do? She was now at the mercy of these strange skraelings. It took a minute for her to recover from the shock. Her thoughts quickly returned to the fact that the man knew Celtic. Perhaps this was a key to another way home! The skraelings were still sitting across from her, staring, eating their fish in silence.
“Tell me,” she asked, “how is it that you know Celtic?”
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. An answer to such a complex question was too much to expect. Better to step back a bit. After all, she wasn't going anywhere. She pointed to herself and smiled. “Kiera. My name is Kiera.”
He smiled and pointed to himself. “Chocan. She Sooleawaa. We Beothuck.”
“Chocan. Sooleawaa. Thank you for saving my life.”
Kiera bowed her head in respect. Chocan stood up, approached her and knelt down in the ditch beside her. He reached out and reverently lifted up the Celtic cross that hung around her neck. He rubbed the intricately carved grooves with his thumb and smiled.
“No. Thank you, Teacher.”
SEVEN
Kiera lowered the needle, held up the fine leather garment and examined it in the glowing radiance of the fire. Sooleawaa circled around the fire and knelt next to Kiera, her eyes widening in admiration.
“It is beautiful,” said Sooleawaa, feeling the delicate stitching. “I have never seen anything like it.”
Kiera, Sooleawaa and Chocan had passed the last several weeks trying to learn each other's languages. It was Kiera's job to improve Chocan's mysterious knowledge of the Celtic tongue, while Sooleawaa had taken on the task of teaching Kiera the Beothuck language. Although Kiera could now understand most of Sooleawaa's phrases, she was having far more difficulty getting her voice to imitate the strange rhythms and sounds of the different tongue.
“Your skirt,” corrected Kiera, in embarrassingly rough Beothuck. “It for you.”
“For me?” stammered Sooleawaa, shocked.
Kiera passed it to her. “Yes. My thank you gift to you.”
Sooleawaa looked to her, then turned in disbelief to Chocan, who sat to the right of the fire. He was using the fire to help illuminate the fishing spear he was carving from what was once a maple sapling. He put the stone and stick down and admired Kiera's handiwork. The flames danced across his glowing gaze.
“Are you going to try it on?”
Sooleawaa needed no further prodding. She stepped into the skirt and pulled it up over the thin, worn skirt she had worn every day since Kiera had arrived. The soft, brown material fit perfectly around her waist, curving down her hips to just above her knees. Kiera was relieved that she had sewn it perfectly. Sooleawaa turned back to Kiera, her eyes as round as the full moon peering through the trees above them. She tried to stammer a thank-you, but she was so excited, she simply hopped up and down three times, turned and sprinted into the darkness.
Chocan laughed. “I have never seen my sister so happy. Thank you, Kiera.”
Kiera put the needle back into the hem of her own skirt. She grinned with a mix of satisfaction and relief. The giving of a gift brought back all of the memories of the last few weeks. Seeing her friends covered in red ochre seemed now just a natural extension of their warm personalities. She was overwhelmed with gratitude.
“It was the least that I could do. You saved my life, fed me and kept me company. I owe both of you much more than a simple leather skirt.”
He nodded towards the trees. “She has gone to show the villagers.”
Kiera turned her gaze towards the woods as well. “When will I meet the people of your village?”
“Soon,” laughed Chocan as he threw another log on the evening campfire. “They know you. They've seen you through the trees. My people, however, still fear you. You are a pale-skinned stranger. I tried to tell them that you are not a spirit to be feared. They're still not sure.”
Kiera straightened. “I would love to meet them. Is there anything I could do to help them not be so afraid of me?” she asked.
Chocan thought for a moment. He then reached behind the stump on which he was perched and brought forward a stained leather bag. Kiera recognized it.
“Your staining powder,” she whispered.
Chocan opened the sack, reached in and took out a handful of the clumpy mixture. He held it up to the fire. “This is ochre. Ochre is part of us, just as skin is part of us. It comes from Earth, our mother. It is also the blood of Beothuck ancestors. When we wear it, ancestors become part of us. Live with us. Ochre connects us to Earth and ancestors. It makes us one with all there is. You understand?”
Kiera sighed. Why couldn't she learn the Beothuck language as quickly as Chocan had improved his Celtic? He had come so far, and now he was helping her make sense of this new world. Just as the cross around her neck was her connection to her family back home, the ochre was the link to their Beothuck family. Her thoughts were broken by the stinging bite of a mosquito on her neck. She slapped at it, but it was too late. Her neck now itched as she scratched at the annoying bite.
Chocan smiled. “Also, mosquitoes hate ochre. No more bites.”
“We never had these little creatures in Iceland.” She scowled, then paused. “I'm ready to try the ochre, if it's all right with you.”
Chocan shook his head. “Must wait. The first time, the mark of the band is very important for woman. The mark must be done by woman. We will wait for Sooleawaa.”
Kiera thought about all of the rituals performed by Chocan and Sooleawaa that she had witnessed since being rescued. They always cut and prepared the fish or meat the same way, singing the same melodious chant that gave thanks to the animal for sacrificing its life for them. They always thanked and honored their ancestors and the Great Spirit before drifting off to sleep. They often talked to the trees, wind or animals with whom they shared their forest home. Kiera now realized that these people were actually connected to the forest in a spiritual sense. They were so different from the Vikings, and even her own family who chopped, tilled and planted the world into an environment that was suited only for human habitation.
Sooleawaa returned from the darkness. She was still grinning from ear to ear.
“They had never seen anything like the skirt before. They think you know magic. They think you are a bird spirit, weaving this garment as you would a nest.”
“Thank you,” laughed Kiera, switching to Beothuck. “I am honoured. You think I am a spirit?”
Sooleawaa smiled. “Special, yes. Spirit, no. I saw you stitch the skirt with my own eyes. There was no magic in your fingers. My village, however, did not believe me. They do not understand this thing that you call a needle and this rock, iron, from which it is made. You must show them.”
“Kier
a can show them tomorrow,” added Chocan.
“Tomorrow?” repeated Sooleawaa and Kiera, together.
“Our band will be leaving for the Meeting Place very soon. Kiera will have to be introduced to our family before then.”
Kiera reached over and touched Sooleawaa's knee. “Please…put ochre on me?”
Confused, Sooleawaa looked from Kiera to Chocan.
He nodded. “It is time.”
He passed over the bag. Sooleawaa knelt down in front of Kiera. She smiled warmly at her pale friend then began to hum softly, closing her eyes and allowing herself to drift off into a trance. Her lips quivered as she whispered a prayer of guidance. Stopping suddenly, Sooleawaa took several deep breaths then reopened her eyes. Her dark, caring eyes locked on to Kiera.
“This is the way of our people,” Sooleawaa explained. “It will be your entry into womanhood. After placing the ochre on you, I will mark you with the sign of a woman. It is also the sign of our tribe, our family.”
“Like this?” Kiera leaned forward and touched Sooleawaa's three triangles above her left eye.
Sooleawaa smiled. “Yes. I will mark you in the same way.”
Sooleawaa again started humming a low, wavering tune that flowed softly, like a gentle summer breeze. It was a melody that Kiera found calming. Kiera closed her eyes as Sooleawaa's hands placed the cool, refreshing paste on her forehead. As her swirling movements moved onto her cheeks and down her neck, the melody was transformed into a poetic song. Kiera shivered with wonder as Sooleawaa wove a tale of marriage, motherhood and love.
Soon, Kiera's exposed body had been entirely lathered in the red stain. Sooleawaa took a cool, thin piece of charcoal from beside the fire and gently pressed it down just above Kiera's left eye. Kiera closed her eyes and allowed Sooleawaa to complete the transformation.
The humming stopped. With the silence, Kiera smiled and allowed her eyes to flicker open.
“How do I look?”
She gasped in surprise. In the faint, flickering light, it appeared that a circular gallery of both old and young spirits had descended upon their campsite. Their unblinking eyes stared at her, assessing her and her new stained look. Chocan materialized in front of the crowd. He opened his arms and, turning to Kiera, introduced the entire assembly.
“This, Kiera, is our band, our family,” said Chocan, proudly. “They heard the song of womanhood permeate the woods. They have come here to welcome you.”
Kiera looked through the silent crowd for a friendly face, but the sea of blank expressions remained. This was a welcome? They certainly didn't have the outgoing friendliness of Chocan and Sooleawaa. Chocan turned to the gathering and spoke quickly in Beothuck. The apprehensive, trance-like state of the onlookers seemed to crack with Chocan's words. There were rumblings among the older crowd, their gazes examining the strange, injured young woman. The younger adults shifted nervously. Some of the children clutched their parents' legs.
Kiera swallowed hard and wished she could disappear. What were they thinking? Would they abandon her in fear? Would they reject her and send her away? Given the grumblings, would her new friends, Sooleawaa and Chocan, now turn their back on her if the band should decide to leave her behind?
Finally, the woman who seemed to be the most elderly of the entire band stepped gingerly forward. Others shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what was about to happen. She spoke slowly in Beothuck, as if for Kiera's benefit.
“Chocan says she speaks with the tongue of the Teachers. She also has been properly initiated in the rites of womanhood. Look, she. has the mark of our band on her temple.” She moved next to the young foreigner and gently touched Kiera's charcoal marking.
Kiera glanced shyly up into the wisest pair of eyes she had ever seen. The leader's face, deeply etched yet full of life, grinned at her in full approval. Kiera noticed the three triangles etched into the craggy skin above her left eye. The woman bent over and placed a bony hand on the side of her face.
“What is your name?”
“Kiera.”
“Kiera, I am Nadie. I am the elder of the band.”
Sooleawaa passed the bowl of red ochre to Nadie, who stirred the mixture with her finger, then brought the tip to the top of Kiera's forehead and traced the shape of a cross. She chanted a phrase too quickly for Kiera to understand, and the gathered crowd repeated the words.
She cupped Kiera's face in her hands. “Welcome, my child.”
“Thank you,” said Kiera, touched by her kindness.
Suddenly, the crowd began to whoop and cheer, shattering the silence of the still forest. Several of the men approached. They carefully lifted the startled Kiera up off the ground. For the first time since her arrival, Kiera left the clearing. The band weaved through the dark forest, shouting and dancing alongside their new family member.
They had travelled only a short distance when the darkness of the forest gave way to the shadowy outlines of fire-lit trees. The trees opened up into a broad clearing filled with over a dozen roaring fires encircled by piles of fur bedding. A shallow, gurgling river lined the far side of the camp. Jutting out from the edge of the water were several strange yet elegant craft made of what looked like the papery bark of a tree. The boats were pointed at both ends and had a sharp wavelike rise along their sides. They were quite different from the skin-covered crafts that the northern skraelings had used to attack her village. Next to the boats were small huts venting thick smoke from a central hole in their domed roof. The air was saturated with the aroma of smoked salmon.
The parade entered the central sitting area. Some of the men sat down at a row of hollowedout logs that were covered with stretched animal hides. They began to pound out a beat on the drums, to which the rest of the band danced and swayed. Everyone was swept up in a whirlpool of motion around the central fire. Some bobbed and weaved quickly like squirrels, while others swooped with their arms like the mighty coastline raptors. The air became saturated with booming rhythms and animal noises. The men who carried her, also caught up in the pandemonium, gently bobbed her up and down to the rhythm as they moved around the fire. Kiera smiled as she watched Sooleawaa and Chocan become totally absorbed in the festivities. Sooleawaa floated around the fires, hooting like an owl while Chocan loped along gracefully, his mournful howls revealing the wolf within.
The celebration continued well into the morning hours. The dancing eventually transformed itself into a salmon feast. Sitting near the band elders, a place of honour she was told, Kiera ate with her new family members. Sooleawaa and Chocan sat on either side, translating the conversations that to Kiera seemed to be taking place at a blistering speed. The elders were impressed with Kiera's growing knowledge of their language, and every member made the effort to welcome her into the family.
The last person to welcome her, a little girl no more than seven years old, was different from the rest. She barely made eye contact, mumbling her welcome, then rushed back to her place at the far end of the gathering. Kiera turned to Sooleawaa.
“Who is she?”
Sooleawaa swallowed the rest of her salmon and looked towards the distant girl.
“Her name is Shawnadit. The spirits have not been kind to our little sparrow. Her father died in a battle with the Thule several years ago. Her mother was killed when she slipped over the edge of a cliff last winter. She has no brothers or sisters. We, the tribe, are now her family. Just as we would raise any child, she is looked after by the women of the band. Her mother's death, however, has greatly affected her. She and her mother were very close.”
Kiera sighed, thinking of the young girl's heartache. “At least she is not alone,” she whispered to herself.
As dawn approached, the revellers eventually gave in to their urge for sleep. Kiera reached forward and touched Sooleawaa's back. Sooleawaa was already slumbering beside the roaring campfire in front of her. She let her darkening thoughts drift upwards into the brightening sky. She thought again of that little girl, Shawnadit, who had suffered terri
ble losses, but still had an extended family to look after her. From Ireland, to Vinland and finally to the land of the Beothuck, Kiera was being pulled ever further away from her home and family. Although happy to have her life after almost losing it, she couldn't stop a growing sense of emptiness from weighing down upon her heart.
As she closed her eyes, she rubbed her cross between her thumb and finger. Home was now further away than ever.
EIGHT
The village had been completely disassembled by midday. Kiera watched in fascination as the large, shell-shaped huts called mamateeks simply fell gently to the ground with the removal of several key support poles. Other band members stored the canoes under low-lying lean-tos for winter. Most of the belongings had been previously packed in leather wrapping, and were now strapped to the top of an A-frame of long poles.
“Ready?” asked Chocan, concern in his voice.
Kiera nodded. “Ready as I'll ever be.”
Kiera grimaced, anticipating the sharp pain that would come when Chocan pulled the ingenious seat. The contraption in which she sat was itself a wooden A-frame made of stripped branches and secured with leather sinew. Chocan pulled from inside the frame itself. He leaned into the leather harness that strained around his shoulders and waist. The sinews in his arms flexed as he brought the simple sled up to speed. Kiera, herself, sat backwards in a sling designed of soft seal skin that was securely attached to the inner frame. Both her legs were elevated and comfortable as they rested on a wide leather strap. Beyond her feet was one of the support branches that connected the two arms of the frame. She felt guilty being so comfortable as Chocan guided the contraption from the fire pit to the edge of the glistening river. They joined the other band members who had already gathered by the water.
Satisfied that everyone was now present, Nadie stepped carefully onto an elevated stump so all could see her. She raised her hands.
“This has been a good summer. The river once again supplied us with an abundance of fish. Our brave hunters have provided our band with leather, fur and meat for the winter months. We have also been joined by a descendant of the Teachers. We have much for which to be thankful! Praise the Great Spirit!”
Stolen Away Page 5
