The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby

by H L Grandin

  “Nay-ya, ditlihi,” Tes Qua replied.

  As the crowd of young braves grew in size and revelry, the Cherokee women were getting more and more upset. Some of the braves started a slow seductive dance around the ceremonial fire while the Shawnee women kept time with their ankle bells.

  When he saw Sunlei’s eyes well with tears, Tyoga knew that he needed to do something to divert her attention to more pleasant thoughts. He leaned over to her. “Sunlei, you sure were right about packing some extra blankets for our trip over the mountains. It got pretty cold last night."

  “See. You should always listen to what your woman has to say.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and lightly pushing him with her left shoulder.

  Prairie Day took the opportunity to move even closer to him.

  “You’re right,” he said playfully pushing her back with his shoulder. “I would have frozen if you hadn’t covered me with that red blanket in the night.”

  Putting another mouthful of beans and squash into her mouth, Sunlei replied, “What are you talking about, Ty? I didn’t cover you with a blanket last night. I was sound asleep.”

  Tyoga said no more.

  The women who had been keeping the beat with their ankle bells as the men danced around the fire, now joined them in a more vigorous stomping dance. The CHING-cha-CHHING-cha-CHING of their ankle bells grew in volume as more and more women entered the circle and joined the slow walk-dance. Some elderly women started a quiet chant that the younger girls did not seem to recognize. The men made their way over to the ceremonial drums.

  Abruptly, Sunlei stopped chewing, furrowed her brow, and looked over at Tyoga. “I didn’t cover you with a blanket last night.”

  Prairie Day’s fingers lightly tapped Tyoga’s left knee. He glanced over at her and saw the gentle smile dimple her cheeks.

  They all looked up as the drums began the staccato call to council.

  Chapter 25

  The Price

  The crescendo of the drums’ cadence built to a deafening roar while a lone chanter uttered a high-pitched soliloquy about Chief Yellow Robe’s bravery in battle.

  When the song of tribute ended, the chief rose to his feet. The drums quieted to a slow rhythmic pattern devoid of accent or measure. The Shawnee elders slowly rose after their chief and faced the enormous ceremonial fire.

  The Cherokee delegation remained seated, and rose to their feet only after the Shawnee elders followed Yellow Robe toward the ceremonial lodge.

  Concerned for the safety of their women, Tyoga, Tes Qua, and White Wolf lagged behind the elders. They did not want them to walk unescorted through the dark, moonless night to their temporary lodging on the south perimeter of the village. Fortunately, the same group of women who had brought the food and blankets to them earlier in the day stepped forward and gathered the Cherokee women in a very loving and gentle way. They indicated that they would take care of them in a nearby lodge, and that they would stay with them until the men were finished with their parlez.

  Sunlei let go of Tyoga’s hand reluctantly when they were gently led away.

  Prairie Day was the last to follow the ladies into the lodge. Before entering the lodge of Runs With Elk, she turned toward Tyoga and with the faintest head nod of affirmation, she flashed a confident smile. Her subtle gesture said, “I trust in you. Do not be afraid. You will do the right thing at council.”

  He nodded in recognition of the message her smile had sent.

  The ceremonial lodge was actually Yellow Robe’s home. Larger than all of the other lodges in the village, the ceremonial portion was built at the north end of the structure in recognition of the wisdom represented by that direction of the compass. The buffalo was the medicine animal of the Shawnee and its majesty signified wisdom and deliberation. Hides of the mighty beast covered the ground surrounding the ceremonial fire that was already ablaze in the pit. Thirty wide and three deep, the buffalo robes were luxuriously warm and comfortable to allow the men to sit and talk late into the night.

  Stands on Rock, the Shawnee Shaman, escorted each member of the Cherokee delegation to their seat around the council fire. Direction playing an important role in Native American deliberations, random seating was rarely permitted at formal gatherings.

  Chief Yellow Robe began.

  “Ey ya chinco sa (My brothers) ye yo tsalagia (of the Cherokee nation) sota loge ey alo (have gathered with us) this day to discuss matters that have caused my people to suffer. While the heart in my chest continues to beat, it is a heart that is filled with sadness and pain. Two of my own sons have been lifted to the sky. They walk no more in this world.”

  Yellow Robe paused to reach for a long ceremonial pipe with a bowl in the shape of a bear’s head. “My sons have been taken from this world in a manner that we do not understand. It is certain that the fangs of a spirit dog released the life that was in them to the heavens. What we do not know is if the spirit dog was guided to kill by the command of another. I light this pipe and pray that the smoke that rises from our lips is lifted up to the spirit gods that it might please them with truth and wisdom. I ask my Ani-Unwiya brothers to smoke this pipe so that the truth of these matters will be revealed to us this night. I pass it in peace.”

  Yellow Robe lit the peace pipe and passed it from his lips to Silver Cloud, who took the pipe and inhaled deeply of the rough-cut harsh tobacco that burned hot and tasted bitter. No one spoke until the pipe had been passed to all present, and the smoke exhaled from the last elder had risen to the roof of the lodge.

  Yellow Robe continued, “All of us at this council fire know of the stories that have followed these two braves since that night so long ago.” He pointed to Tyoga and Tes Qua. “Your white brother defeated the mighty leader of the Reunion wolf pack, Wahaya-Wacon. He saved Tes Qua Ta Wa, son of Nine Moons, from the jaws of a terrible and savage death.”

  Yellow Robe paused to acknowledge Tes Qua and Nine Moons as a sign of respect for the gift of his life. “But when the white eyes had the chance to put an end to the mighty wolf, he did not. He allowed the killer Wahaya to live. Why?”

  He directed his gaze at Tyoga. “What did the young white eyes demand of the beast in exchange for the gift of his life?”

  He paused for dramatic effect. “It is said that the spirit of the wolf came out of the beast.” He gestured with both arms as if picking up a sleeping child. “I tell you, my brothers, that the cruel and savage spirit of Wahaya-Wacon left his own body that night, and now lives in the heart of the white eyes.” He pounded his right fist over his own heart.

  “Nay ya ho, ey a lo!” Tyoga shouted rudely to interrupt the chief.

  Chief Silver Cloud raised his hand to stop Tyoga from speaking and motioned for Yellow Robe to continue.

  “The young white eyes wishes Yellow Robe to stop because he knows that I speak the truth,” Yellow Robe said with a disdainful tone in his voice. “There is more.”

  Tyoga saw the smirk on Seven Arrows’ face grow while his eyes lit up in anticipation of what was to come.

  “While the mighty wolf gave up his spirit to keep his own life, he took from the white eyes the medicine of his Beginning Gift.”

  At these words the Ani-Unwiya rocked backwards and looked at each other in disbelief.

  The Beginning Gift was the most powerful medicine bestowed by the God of all creation. It was the life essence that determined the very nature of a man. It was seen by the Native Americans of Appalachia as the source of the fundamental truths of being. The Beginning Gift predetermined the degree to which a man is able to experience love, friendship, generosity, and compassion; or greed, hatred, deprivation, and inhumanity.

  He was saying that Tyoga Weathersby had been stripped of his soul.

  At this, Chief Silver Cloud could remain silent no longer. “Yellow Robe speaks the truth about the battle our white brother had with the spirit wolf,” he said in a measured, strong voice. “You are right that his courage, strength, and devotion saved the life of Tes Qua Ta Wa. Bu
t you are wrong that in sparing the life of Wahaya-Wacon, he surrendered his Beginning Gift.”

  Angered at being told that he was wrong, Chief Yellow Robe interrupted Silver Cloud by pointing at Tyoga and demanding loudly, “Am I wrong that four Shawnee braves, two of them my sons, were torn apart by the jaws of Wahaya while camping peacefully on Mount Rag? Am I wrong that two more of our young braves were butchered by the spirit wolf after my son, Seven Arrows, stopped at his campsite on the Rapidan to ask for some food?”

  Unable to sit silent in the face of such accusations, Tyoga replied to the chief’s angry incriminations, “Chief Yellow Robe, it is true that your braves were killed by some—”

  “I speak the truth!” Yellow Robes cut him off with a furious retort. Rising to his feet, he screamed, “And here is another truth. You, Tyoga Weathersby, are the spirit wolf. You killed my sons.”

  Leaping to his feet, Tyoga turned to his chief. “It is not true, Silver Cloud!”

  He quaked with anger. The color drained from his eyes.

  Collecting himself, he spoke in a calmer, more measured tone of voice, “Chief Yellow Robe, your Shawnee braves on Mount Rag were chasing me and Sunlei, daughter of Nine Moons, like wild dogs. They would have killed us if they had caught us. I don’t know how your men were killed on Mount Rag, or what killed them. Something tore them apart, that is true—but it wasn’t me.”

  He faced Yellow Robe. “Your son did not come in peace to our camp at the Rapidan. He did not ask us for food. When he called out to us while we were asleep in our shelter, he did not know that Tyoga Weathersby,” he said pointing to himself, “and Tes Qua were inside. He was out to rob whoever was in the shelter. When he saw it was me—his eyes filled with hatred. He would have tried to kill me and Tes Qua if he had not been frightened away. He ran from our campsite like an old woman.”

  At this, Seven Arrows leaped to his feet, his eyes filled with rage.

  Tyoga continued, “And the proof, Yellow Robe, is that the two braves that were with him that day were found dead at Fifer’s Pass. The same pass that Tes Qua and I would have crossed if we had not suspected that Seven Arrows and his companions would be waiting to ambush us along the trail. We took the trail through Tonkin’s Trace instead. Something found them as they lay in wait along the trail. Whatever it was ripped them apart.”

  Turning to Silver Cloud, he said, “My father, I have never killed any man.”

  Across the fire from him, Seven Arrows saw that Tyoga had not been able to keep his emotions in check, and that his eyes were beginning to glow ominously in the firelight. He pointed at Tyoga and said, “Look, Father. It is happening as we speak. Wahaya-wacon.”

  Still seated, Tes Qua reached up to touch him on the arm. “Ty, sit back down.”

  It was too late.

  Tyoga’s muscles began to fill with blood, and the hazel in his eyes had bled away.

  He struggled to control his voice, but he could not. In a malignant tone devoid of caution and dispassionately aloof, he inquired, “What is it you want of us?”

  This flagrant breach of etiquette and protocol called for Silver Cloud to demand Tyoga to take a seat and allow the negotiations to occur between the two chiefs. When he looked over at him, the chief saw for himself the stinging feral eyes of amber-orange and thought better of interceding.

  Seven Arrows continued, “You see, Father? You see with your own eyes that I have spoken the truth. There is no spirit wolf. Tyoga Weathersby is responsible for the death of your sons. The killer stands before you.”

  Tyoga demanded once again, in a gutteral voice that was, and was not, his own, “What is it you want of us?”

  Yellow Robe gained his composure and returned a callous gaze of indifference into the other worldly eyes that challenged from across the room. “What the Shawnee have lost cannot be repaid by goods or possessions. How many bushels of corn do we demand for the lives of my sons who suckled at the breast of their heart broken mother? How many rifles will replace the joy of their laughter? How many barrels of the white man’s whiskey will replace the game they would have provided to feed my people?”

  Yellow Robe paused. Unable to continue to stare into Tyoga’s vacuous eyes, he diverted his gaze to the ceremonial fire.

  “Stands on Rock, our medicine man, tells me that the will of the great spirit, gijudiva, and the law of the civilized people, demand that a life must be paid for a life. But a life taken will not replace a life lost.”

  The fire crackled and spewed bits of coal and ash high into the air. As if following a string of knotted yarn, the smoke and ash coursed along the superheated updrafts of air with deliberate intent until exiting the lodge through the vent in the roof.

  The night was still and quiet. It was as if the entire tribe had suddenly vanished. No drums sounded. No sizzle of ankle bells. No talking or laughter. Not even the whisper of the wind could be heard.

  The crooked smile-sneer creased Seven Arrows’s lips once again. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

  Yellow Robe said, “To replace that which we have lost, I, Yellow Robe, demand only one life in return. Six times over this one life will repay the debt owed to me and to the women of the Thawegilas tribe who weep for the others lost at the hands of Tyoga Weathersby.” He looked up from the fire to stare straight into Tyoga’s icy yellow eyes, and spat the words. “Wahaya-wacon.”

  “Sunlie A-wi, daughter of Nine Moons, will be taken by Seven Arrows. Together, their bodies will replace the lives we have lost.”

  With a blink as if to awaken, Tyoga broke away from Yellow Robe’s stare, and refocused his gaze on the flickering flames of the dying fire.

  Seven Arrows rose triumphantly and marched from the ceremonial lodge with the confident stride of a victorious general.

  His laughter followed him into the night.

  Part Three

  Abandoned Hope

  Chapter 26

  Surrender

  The party did not stop to camp at Cormack’s Pass, but walked through the night to return to Tuckareegee. They arrived before the rising sun, tired, hungry, dirty, and desolate at what had transpired the day before in the Shawnee village.

  As word spread throughout the village of Yellow Robe’s horrific demand, the people gathered in Chief Silver Cloud’s lodge to discuss the matter among themselves and to hear what their chief had to say.

  In the family area of the lodge, Wind Song was preparing a basin of warm water for Silver Cloud and Prairie Day to wash off the dirt of the trail. She had already laid out the Chief’s everyday tunic and leggings, and steam was rising from the bowls of deer stew she had prepared for them to eat.

  Not speaking, Silver Cloud and Prairie Day exchanged loaded glances while putting on their clean clothes. Prairie Day had expressed her thoughts about Yellow Robe’s demands to her father throughout the night as they trekked along the dark mountain trails. There was nothing left for them to say.

  Four years apart in age, Prairie Day had cared for Sunlei as a sister when they were both no more than children. It was she who had taught her to braid her hair, macramé twine, scale a fish and sew rabbit skin mocassins. More than anyone else in the tribe, she recognized the gift that Sunlei was to the Ani-Unwiya. She understood that her light skin and command of the English language would one day elevate the Wolf Clan to a position of power in the coming white world. But more than that, she loved Sunlei. Taking Tyoga in Green Rock Cove was an act separate and apart from her relationship with her. She could not deny her love for Tyoga and found no shame in their sexual triste—it was their way. She loved Sunlei no less. She would do anything to secure her happiness even if it meant denying her own.

  As she pulled her doe skin chemise over her head, she saw Tyoga and Tes Qua enter the lodge. They had not changed their clothes, washed, nor had anything to eat. Their faces were smeared with the smoke and ash from the Shawnee’s ceremonial fire. Tyoga’s face was covered in thick black stubble. Prairie Day noticed that while his eyes were alive wit
h anger, they retained their gentle hazel hue. She feared that would not last for very long.

  Sunlei, her mother True Moon, and her father Nine Moons had arrived in the lodge before Tyoga and Tes Qua.

  Despondent and inconsolable, Sunlie sat in a far corner of the lodge cradled in her mother’s embrace. True Moon rocked her gently while smoothing her hair with her soft touch. Eyes red and swollen, Sunlie stared blankly into space while allowing her mother’s cradling arms to surround her in some measure of safety and peace. She had no more tears to shed.

  Nine Moons, Tes Qua, and Tyoga went to the ceremonial end of the lodge where the others were discussing the terrible price that had been demanded for the loss of Yellow Robe’s sons and the other Shawnee braves.

  Nine Moons spoke with some of the men and women of the tribe while waiting for their chief. On most occasions, only men were allowed into the ceremonial end of the lodge. This day, the council session was open to all members of the tribe who wished to listen to the discussion.

  After the Chief finished his bowl of stew, he stood up and walked slowly through the crowd to take his seat on a mound of buffalo robes. When he was settled, he gestured to Nine Moons to speak.

  “My wise and brave Chief. We, your people, come to you at the rising of the sun to honor your courage and strength. I traveled with you to South Fork and listened at the council fire as Yellow Robe demanded my daughter as payment for the Shawnee braves his tribe has lost to Wahaya-Wacon. I plead with you now not as my chief, but as my brother, to not allow this thing to come to pass.”

  Nine Moons paused while the crowd reacted with approving chatter. “Since our beginning time, we have been together. We have hunted and supplied our people with food in times of plenty. We have fished the rivers and streams in the dead of winter in times of want. Together, we have defended our land, and shed blood to protect our women and children. Together, we have even taken the lives of those who would hang our scalps on their lodge poles. You are Sunlie’s a-do-da–eh-alo (godfather). You held my daughter to the sky on her naming day. You presented Sunlie-Awi to the great-spirit and introduced her to the People. She is as your very own. Silver Cloud, I know that it is not in you to stand by and watch her walk into the arms of the Shawnee dog, Seven Arrows.”