Blackbird

by Henderson, Nancy

  This was not a fort. It was a Mohawk village--Adahya’s village! She was his prisoner, and now he would give her to his people.

  Fear replaced her anger. She fought her bindings, frantically tearing at him and trying to escape his grip on her. As if she were nothing more than a dog on a rope, he grabbed her by the waist and slung her over his shoulder. She kicked at him and dug her nails into his neck, all to no avail.

  Suddenly, he was surrounded by at least ten other. Adahya spoke to them in his native tongue, and they began laughing. When they had passed through the gate, he set her down on her feet. The men walked away but continued to laugh and look back at her.

  “They say I should bring a woman to my lodge by courting her instead of by chains.”

  Katherine glared at him. She did not find any humor in his joke or his friends’ sneers.

  He stopped grinning and tugged her bound wrists. “Come.”

  Dogs were everywhere. They jumped on her, sniffed at her, snapped at her ankles. Children gathered around her, laughing and pointing at her. Their skin was darker than hers, ranging from light to dark olive tones. Their hair was as black as hers. The women wore it long, but most of the men only had hair in the back. Some were completely bald. The people wore as little clothes as possible. Some of the older women wore no shirts or bodices at all and left their breasts exposed. A few of the younger men wore British jackets like Adahya’s.

  Over a dozen large, bark-covered lodgings stood within the stockades, and Adahya led her between then to the farthest one from the stockade gate. More Indians gathered to stare at her. Women approached her and touched her hair and her breasts. One spat in her face.

  Without speaking, Adahya held back the bark door for her and gently pushed her inside. Katherine coughed from the thick smoke, and her eyes began to burn. The lodge was at least thirty feet in length. Top and bottom bunks lined each side of the longhouse, and there were various fire pits down the center floor space where people walked. Adahya led her halfway down the lodge, stopping at the hearth of an old woman and an even older man. Adahya greeted them in his native tongue and sat between them. The ancient looking man passed a small clay pipe to Adahya. Adahya inhaled the smoke, then gently tugged on her ropes, motioning that she should sit. She sat between Adahya and the old woman.

  The old man looked at Katherine. His head was shaved except for a single white tuft on the top. She tried to read his expression, afraid he would be as hostile as the Indians outside, but his face was too wrinkled to see any hint of anger.

  Pointing at her, the old man spoke to Adahya in Mohawk. Adahya replied, and the old man smiled. He had but one tooth in his mouth.

  “This is my grandfather, Many Stories.” Adahya spoke softly, as if a sign of respect to the elders. “He is over ninety-summers.” He motioned to the woman beside her. “This is my mother, She-who-commands.”

  Katherine was not surprised. She had noticed the resemblance in mother and son immediately. Mainly because she was also glaring at her the same way Adahya often did.

  The woman touched Katherine’s hair. Her hand was rough, and Katherine drew back. She-who-commands tried to slap her, but Katherine blocked her with her bound wrists. Adahya shouted something to his mother, and she shouted back. Adahya and the woman continued to shout back and forth until the old man told Adahya what Katherine guessed was a command to leave.

  Angered by whatever his mother had said to him, Adahya stormed from the longhouse. He tugged hard at Katherine’s ropes, hurting her wrists, but, confused and shaking, she said nothing.

  She had gotten halfway across the village when a woman tripped her. Katherine fell, hitting her nose hard. She had no more than raised her head when another woman lunged onto her back, punching her shoulder blades and biting her. Adahya pulled her off, but another replaced her, and this one wielded a club. Katherine managed to pull the club from her grip, but not until the woman had smashed it against her left eye.

  Her head was reeling. She saw Adahya knock the woman off her, and that was the last she remembered.

  When she regained consciousness, she was lying on a pallet of soft hides. A heavy bearskin covered her, making her uncomfortably warm.

  She was lying in some sort of small, dome-shaped lodge. The tiny lodge was filled with things that spoke of a man’s domain. Muskets, tomahawks, and fishing baskets and traps were tossed everywhere. A fire burned in a pit in the center of the floor, and a square smoke hole was cut in the roof for draft. Tiny stars shined through the hole. She must have been unconscious for hours.

  Adahya was looking down at her. She stared into his deep eyes, recalling the events of yesterday. She had kissed him, swam naked with him, and he had proposed to her. Sort of. Then he had tried to kill her. Confusion and anger simmered within her. He was no longer the friend she had started to consider him. She had refused him, so he was forcing her to stay with him. She would not do it!

  Katherine sat up and glared at him, her anger quickly making her numb with mounting rage.

  “Welcome to my home, Chogan.”

  With all her might, she hit him square in the mouth.

  A tiny river of blood trickled from his bottom lip. She watched it, not quite satisfied. Then slapped him hard. “I will not be your prisoner!”

  “I do not wish you to be my prisoner.”

  “And I told you I would not live with you. I have no interest in you or your--those savages you call your family!” She touched her eye and winced. “You let them hit me. You didn’t even try to stop them!”

  “I didn’t see them until it was too late.” His look was apologetic, as if he might actually be trying to understand her emotions. “I am sorry, Katherine. I will not let them harm you again.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Your home is with Adahya now.”

  Katherine hit him again. She was about to slap him once more when he caught her wrists and squeezed it immobile. “If you strike me again, I will snap your wrist.”

  Fear momentarily replaced anger, reminding her that he was not a man but a dangerous Mohawk, and she was alone with him as his prisoner. She relaxed her arm, and he released his grip. Defeated for the moment, she lay back on the pallet, utterly exhausted.

  Adahya stretched out on the bearskin beside her. He rolled on his side so he was looking down at her. He was entirely too close, and his eyes were looking at her entirely too intensely, but every muscle in her body hurt, and she suddenly did not have the strength to care.

  “Tomorrow I will show you around my village. After I explain that you are my woman, they will no longer be cruel to you.”

  “No, I’m sure they will show me even more compassion as they did today,” she sarcastically shot back.

  He frowned as if he did not understand her tone. “They thought you were my prisoner today.”

  “I am your prisoner!”

  “No, Chogan.” He stroked her hair, but she pushed his hand away. Tears stung the backs of her eyes, and she frantically brushed them away. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because you are attractive to Adahya.”

  Her stupid mouth!

  He began stroking her hair again, and she frantically slapped him away. “Don’t use my words against me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Refusing to answer, she covered her face with her hands.

  “Do not worry, Chogan. You will get used to me.”

  Hating herself for it, yet unable to stop herself, Katherine let her tears flow. This was all her fault. Her big mouth was always getting her into trouble, but this was the worst yet. She would never see Joshua again. He would always wonder what had happened to her, and there would be no one to tell him.

  Adahya slid his arm under her neck and cradled her head against his chest. She allowed his arms to envelope her, comforted only by the fact that it felt so good to be held.

  “Tomorrow will be a better day for you,” he spoke against her ear.

  She cried herself to s
leep in his arms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ADAHYA glared at his mother. She-who-commands was beyond anger. Hating the white eyes was understandable, but she was overreacting. Which was nothing new.

  “What do you expect of me?” Her tone was sarcastic.

  “I want you to be respectful. Katherine is deserving of that.”

  “My respect!” She paced the longhouse, her step tired and labored. She-who-commands was a powerful matriarch for his clan, and at fifty-nine winters she had not lost her authoritativeness. Especially with her sons.

  Adahya challenged her look of scorn. “You will be respectful to her. If you do not, I will have nothing to do with you.”

  This seemed to strike a nerve in her, and she stopped pacing. “You could have chosen a nice Hodenosaunee woman in the village or in any village. Why do you not use better judgment?”

  “Like you did when you chose Song for me?”

  Her black eyes were apologetic and full of regret. “Adahya, this white woman will not stay with you. She will leave you just like Song did. Sooner, in fact. I saw the fight in her yesterday. She will run.”

  His mother was right, no matter how much he chose not to believe it. When he had asked Katherine to stay with him, she had seemed surprised that he did not seek love in a mate. Perhaps if she came to love him she would stay.

  But how could he make her love him? Trying to get Song to even halfway tolerate him had been a dismal failure. His friends and his brothers took the act of coupling lightly, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

  He had a better chance at getting Katherine to love mother than he did him.

  Giving a long sigh, he met his mother’s stare. “When the white woman runs, she will be burned at the stake.”

  “No!”

  “Who will be burned?”

  Adahya turned to his grandfather, accepted the pipe the old man offered him. Many Stories clamped a feeble hand on Adahya’s shoulder. “How is Song?”

  “She is gone, Grandfather.”

  “Where did she go?”

  “She left me, ti-sot.”

  The old man’s expression changed from tranquil serenity to concern. “Why?”

  Adahya patted his hand. It was always this way with his grandfather. Many Stories had no difficulties repeating tales of ancient times, but when it came to remembering day-to-day activities, he was at a loss.

  “Did I offend her?” The old man looked to them in confusion. “Is that why Song has left?”

  She-who-commands sighed. “Song has been gone a long time, ti-sot. It was nothing you did.”

  “Was it something you did?”

  “No!” she yelled, impatience growing. Ignoring her father’s look of confusion, she turned to her son.

  “Adahya, if she runs, I promise you we will caress her until she is dead.”

  Adahya knew the horrible fate of being ‘caressed’ by the Ganeagaono. Their method of torture was widely known from the land of the Huron as far south as the Shawnee. It brought fear and panic to their enemies, which was vital to their survival. Adahya, himself, knew the scream of many of his victims, for he had danced the war song around many burning stakes.

  Katherine St. James would never know the scent of her own flesh burning. He vowed this on his life.

  He glared at his mother. “Katherine will come to no harm from you or from any Ganeagaono.”

  “We would torture her for your honor, Adahya. If she runs, she will die slowly as all white eyes deserve. She will know the feel of the flames, and she will scream out like the coward she is.” She touched her son’s cheek. “Like the coward all white eyes are.”

  Adahya pushed away his mother’s hand. White eyes had killed his father in the war with the French, and Adahya did not blame his mother for hating their kind, but Katherine was different. She was not like them. “You will not do this, nor will anyone else in the village. Katherine will stay with Adahya of her own free will, you will see. You will all see!”

  “What will we see?” Grandfather asked.

  She-who-commands’ expression softened. “If she stays, then we will have no need to kill her, will we?” She took hold of her son’s face. “Do you not see that this woman only wants the best for her son? Each of your brothers has a good woman. They have children to carry on their spirit. I want the same for you, Adahya. Song was unkind. I regret arranging for you to be with her. It was my fault you were hurt. My heart will never let me forgive such poor judgment. I love you, Adahya. I do not want to see you hurt again. I knew what Song did to you when she left. I saw how your heart bled. I do not want to see you like that again. With this white woman it is inevitable.”

  “Katherine is not Song.”

  “Adahya, you bound her hands to keep her to you. That is not the actions of a man and woman who trust and respect one another.”

  “She will learn to trust me.”

  She-who-commands shook her head. “I am doubtful, my son.” After a long silence, she added, “I will keep silent as you wish me to.”

  A tiny light of hope flickered. He did not know why his mother’s approval was so important to him. He supposed his brothers were right, that he was the spoiled one of the three. He squeezed his mother’s hand. “And you will be respectful to her?”

  His mother pondered his question for a long while. She took a small knife from a basket and placed it gently in his palm. “Your father gave this to me long ago before you or your brothers came into this world. You may give it to the white woman, but do not let her use it on you.”

  Adahya turned over the knife. It was a woman’s knife, used for domestic tasks, never for warfare. He had never seen it before, but the bone handle was carved with tiny human figures which he immediately recognized as his father’s work. He smiled. His father’s carvings had been cherished by the Ganeagaono. Sometimes, during times alone, especially right before raids and battles when he wondered if he would live to the next dawn, he felt as if his father had left the Sky World to watch over him. He wondered what he would have thought of him, if he would have been proud.

  “Thank you.”

  His mother nodded. “Star is about the white woman’s size. She must have something for her to wear. She cannot stay dressed like a white eye.”

  Adahya nodded. He gripped his mother in a quick embrace, grateful to have her blessing such as it was. “Katherine will be good for Adahya. You will see.”

  “Who will be good for you?” Grandfather asked.

  She-who-commands ignored him. “How much do you know about this woman?”

  “Enough.”

  “Enough to begin a life with her? When you left here last moon you had no intention of ever taking another woman, and now you bring home a white eye.” She shook her head. “It is not right.”

  Grandfather looked to the both of them, utterly confused. “What is not right?”

  Adahya patted the old man’s shoulder. “I will make it right,” he spoke to his mother. “You will see.”

  * * *

  KATHERINE woke to find herself alone in Adahya’s lodge. Seeing an opportunity to escape, she hurried to the small door and slid back the bark panel. Her captor was nowhere in sight.

  She had no more than stepped outside, when she was pelted in the spine with a large rock.

  “Ow!”

  Laughter was followed by a firing squad of rocks and pebbles. Five children peered out from behind a longhouse. They giggled hysterically.

  Fighting for control had fallen beyond her already. She’d had it with these people, and she’d be damned if she was going to take anymore abuse--especially from children! Gathering the rocks they had thrown at her, she slung them at the children, sending them laughing and shouting in all directions. She hit one boy in the side of his neck, and he let out a hideous yowl.

  “Serves you right, you little heathen!”

  The boy was down, and she lunged for him. She caught him by the ankle, and not sure what to do with him but too angry to let hi
m go, she dragged him toward Adahya’s lodge. The boy screamed and shouted something, but she could not understand a thing he said, nor did she care. Enraged, violent thoughts filled her mind. She had never fantasized about hurting anyone, especially a child, but now the idea gave her great pleasure.

  Adahya rounded the corner to find Katherine attacking his eight-year-old nephew, Swift Runner. She had the boy by his left leg and was dragging him on his stomach. Swift Runner sobbed hysterically. Adahya’s six-year-old niece, Little Jay, was screaming for her mother as if Heno himself were after them.