The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby

by H L Grandin

  Tyoga looked at Trinity, who returned his inquisitive gaze.

  The Chief had something in mind, and whatever he asked could not be denied.

  Passaunkack was very large. The palisade wall enclosed many lodges that housed roughly eight hundred villagers. Unlike the Cherokee lodges, their homes were round rather than long. However, they were spacious enough to house several family units. The sides of the huts were constructed of stick and mud daub latticework. The roofs were made of marsh grasses and reed interwoven into a waterproof matting.

  While Tyoga, Trinity, and the party of elders made their way along the neatly landscaped central avenue, children ran out from the lodges and alley ways to present them with gifts and tokens of greeting. Trinity received many bouquets of wildflowers and a laurel of daisies to place on her head. They also presented her with dresses made of beautifully woven cloth and delicately cured leather, doe hide and elk skin boots, and more blankets and cooking utensils than she could carry. Tyoga received more substantial gifts of iron hatchets, metal knives, iron tipped arrows and ornately decorated quivers. Iron tools for clearing and working the land were placed at his feet while he went along the central boulevard. Young braves followed behind the procession to collect the gifts for them.

  It was beyond anything Tyoga and T.J. could have imagined.

  Being so near to Hampden Roads, Middle Plantation, and Yorktown, the Mattaponi were frequented by many white traders anxious to exchange tools and weapons for blankets, pottery, moccasins, and precious metal ores.

  Their fire pits were rife with cast iron kettles, Dutch ovens, and copper pots, which were all in used in baking, roasting, and smoking the food for the great feast that was being prepared in honor of Wahaya-Wacon.

  Mattaponi women were roasting loins of elk, deer, and bear. Others were smoking herring and shad by the hundreds. Fires were roasting ducks, geese, and pheasants, while rounded earthen ovens were baking breads made from the coarse flour of various grains.

  The men were tending a giant vat of wheat beer that was many times more potent that the ale consumed by the colonists.

  Everyone in the village was busy preparing for the feast and dancing to come. Mothers stood in the avenues and lanes of the village admonishing their children not to get their ceremonial garb dirty while they chased after barking dogs and free range chickens and guinea fowl. While their sisters and friends brushed and decorated their hair, young Indian maidens straightened their finest doeskin tunics outside their huts. Musicians tuned their drums and flutes because music was a central component of any Mattaponi celebration.

  The procession stopped outside of Chief Blue Coat’s lodge, one of the largest huts in the village.

  Turning to the Mattaponi elders, the Chief said something to them that Tyoga could not hear. Nodding in agreement, they turned and walked away.

  “Come into my lodge,” the Chief said to Tyoga and Trinity as he bent down to enter the building. “We have prepared a space for you to rest before the celebration. My daughters will bring something for you to eat and drink. Rest now. It will be a very long day.”

  Leading them to a place in the hut that had been cordoned off to provide some privacy, the Chief smiled broadly before leaving them alone.

  The area had several buffalo robes on a wooden frame upon which they could sit or recline. A bowl of berries and nuts was on a three-legged stool next to some warm, flat bread. Elk jerky and dried sturgeon filled an ornate ceramic bowl, and a jug of asi was on the floor next to the stool.

  Tyoga stretched out on the buffalo robes while Trinity Jane sat on the edge of bed and helped herself to some berries and nuts. Tyoga took her hand in his. They clenched each other’s hand in the universal gesture of unity common to those placed in unfamiliar territory.

  Tyoga asked, “What do you think he wants of me?”

  “I don’t know yet, Ty. We’ll just have to wait and see. By the look of all those things they possess that are of the white man’s world, my guess is that it will have something to do with the colonies.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “If he wants me to translate for the Mattaponi in their dealings with the whites, I’ll be happy to oblige. It is the least that I can do to repay their kindness.”

  “Don’t be so anxious,” Trinity wisely cautioned. “Much harm can come from words misspoken.”

  Knowing she was right, Tyoga did not reply.

  The celebration began after noon and lasted well past the setting sun. After they had eaten and drank their fill, Tyoga and Trinity Jane took their seats of honor next to the Chief and the tribal elders to watch the dancing and listen to the music and songs. The Mattaponi danced around the enormous ceremonial fire in the village square, not in the exuberant fashion of the Cherokee or Choctaw, but in a more reserved, rhythmic walk/dance that was melodic rather than frenzied in its presentation.

  When the circle of mostly women danced past the head table for a second time, Trinity grabbed Tyoga’s hand and squeezed it hard. She jumped up from her seat and ran into the circle screaming, “Adelu (sister), adelu!”

  When Grows Strong saw her stepsister running to greet her, she broke from the dance circle and ran into her embrace. “Adohi, Yutsa, adelu, adelu! What are you doing here, Yutsa?”

  Trinity did not answer because of the tears streaming down her face. Instead, she glanced toward Tyoga who was now standing up next to Blue Coat. “Adelu, you are with Wahaya-Wacon? How can this be? Why have you come to me? Is father, or mother? Are they okay? Is it—”

  “Adelu,” Trinity interrupted. “Everyone is fine. I will tell you later how all of this has come to pass. For now, know that I am here and being well cared for. We will speak later.”

  Trinity returned to her place of honor next to Tyoga. He reached out and took her hand to help her step up to the dias. “Your sister?” he asked.

  “Yes, that is my sister,” she replied.

  “She’s quite beautiful,” Tyoga said.

  Trinity furrowed her brow and replied, “Yes. Yes, she is.”

  After several hours of dancing and more food and drink, Chief Blue Coat signaled that it was time for counsel. The men stood up and followed him into his lodge.

  As Tyoga was standing, Trinity grabbed his hand and flashed her dimpled smile up at him. In English, she said, “Careful, Tyoga.”

  “Okay.” He squeezed and then released her tiny hand.

  She watched him follow the elders down the boulevard to Chief Blue Coat’s lodge.

  Chapter 47

  Speak for the People

  With Chief Blue Coat leading the way and Tyoga right behind, the elders entered the chief’s lodge.

  The inside of the lodge had been rearranged for the counsel. A ceremonial fire was burning in the middle of the lodge. Animal hides of buffalo, elk, deer, and bear had been arranged around the fire pit. The private area that had been set-aside for Tyoga and Trinity had been dismantled.

  The council members took their seats as if prearranged. An ornately decorated pipe, with a two-foot long stem wrapped in fox fur and a bowl the size of a tea cup, was lit and passed to each man in turn. The braves held the pipe in their raised arms before bringing the stem to their lips and inhaling deeply.

  Tyoga noticed that the tobacco in this pipe was very different from the tobacco passed around the Shawnee council fire. It was mild and sweet with a taste not nearly as unpleasant as he remembered.

  This is another advantage the tribes living so close to the English colonies enjoy.

  In the one hundred years since the colonists first landed at Jamestown, the white man’s understanding of horticulture, and their ability to selectively breed-in desired tastes, had produced a tobacco that was remarkably mild. The robust trading that took place between the Mattaponi and the colonists truly had its advantages.

  But at what price did these many gifts come?

  Chief Blue Coat and all of the elders were eager to hear Tyoga tell the tale of his battle with the leader of the Runion wolf pack.


  Tyoga was surprised by how much they already knew about him. They were very familiar with the battle on the ridge and his superhuman effort to carry his Cherokee brother to safety.

  While recounting the battle on the ridge, Tyoga could see the disappointment on their faces at learning that the wolf did not rise from the dead after he had bashed his head in with the boulder. They were, however, impressed when he told them that he had spared the wolf’s life in the same way that the wolf had spared Tyoga’s.

  The Indians understood and revered this benevolence.

  Tyoga related the events that occurred at the Shawnee Council, and verified to them that the Ani-Unwiya Chief, Silver Cloud, had remained true to his word and had turned Sunlei over to Seven Arrows. They had heard about the Shawnee council and of Chief Yellow Robe’s demand for Sunlei to become the wife of his loathsome son Seven Arrows. As the tales made their way across the mountains and to the shores of the Chesapeake Bay, Seven Arrows had become so demonized that he had been given the ability to change shape and to dissolve into nothingness like the rising morning mist. They wanted to know what had become of Sunlei after she had killed the chief’s son, and where she was hiding now.

  In a ruse that was more protective than deceitful, Tyoga disavowed any knowledge of Seven Arrow’ demise or of the whereabouts of Sunlei.

  “You do not know where your woman has gone?” Chief Blue Robe persisted.

  “I do not know where she is, Chief Blue Robe,” Tyoga said.

  “The beauty of Sunlei-Awi is known to our people. Her understanding of the white man’s tongue is a precious gift. How is it that you can lose such a woman?” he asked with outstretched arms inviting communal agreement with his amazement.

  Tyoga did not reply.

  Seeing that Tyoga was not going to be more forthcoming, Blue Coat continued, “So, Adohi Yutsa has taken Sunlei’s place in your lodge?”

  Tyoga continued to stare into the fire. Without averting his gaze from the flames, he said, “I have known Adohi Yutsa for only a short time. She saved my life.”

  Chief Blue Coat paused to look into the eyes of the elders around the council fire. “We know of this woman, Wahaya. She, like you, is of the white eyes. Do you not find it strange that in the land of the Powhatan and Algonquin you would be rescued by a white woman living among the Nansmond clan? Among all the people roaming the land that she should find you on that day is no matter of chance, my son. There is a reason that she nursed you back to health.”

  The elders grunted their approval of the words their chief had spoken.

  Chief Blue Coat was not finished. He had one more thing to tell Tyoga. With the wisdom of his years, and the tone of a father advising his son, the Chief counseled Tyoga while he continued to stare into the flames, “My son, a warrior should not sleep alone. Your eyes tell me that Adohi Yutsa has not yet found a home in your heart. That, my son, is a burden that no brave can long carry.”

  The lodge fell silent for a long time.

  “Chief Blue Robe, is there a service that you wish of me?” Tyoga asked while the chief’s wife and daughters poured more asi into the buffalo horn goblets beside each counsel member.

  “There is, my son,” the chief replied, “The People need the wisdom and courage of Wahaya to do what must be done. More than that, we need one who understands the white man’s tongue and can speak for the Mattaponi at their council fires.”

  Tyoga nodded his head in agreement.

  “We have lived in peace with the white man for many moons. They are welcome in Passaunkack, and the Mattaponi walk the streets of Middle Plantation in peace. What the white eyes bring to trade with the Mattaponi are good for my people. The iron tools help us to clear the land, cultivate our crops, cook our food and hunt our prey. Yet, they are no longer content to trade for blankets and pottery and buffalo robes. They now wish to trade for our lands. If we do not agree to trade, they claim our land just as the beaver turns a creek into a pond.”

  Blue Coat stopped to look into the eyes of the Mattaponi elders. The nods of their heads emboldened him to continue with more difficult words

  “The white men’s ships arrive everyday. More and more of the white eyes pour onto our shores and demand land to build their homes, grow their crops, graze their herds, and raise new generations who will demand the same. In the wet season, a man called Carry came to Passaunkack to speak with Blue Coat. He said that the white eyes wish to build a town at Mattaponi because the water at our shores is deep and will allow many ships to unload more people and goods. These ships they will fill with our trees and hides and tobacco and corn and return to their homelands without paying for what they have taken from us. He wanted Blue Coat to make his mark on paper giving our lands to the white eyes. I refused. When he insisted that he would take our land with or without my mark, my braves entered the council lodge with their bows and hatchets. Carry and his men left Passaunkack shaking their fists at Blue Coat and screaming that they would return with many men and their thunder sticks.

  “In the growing time, more white eyes arrived with a paper that said I must go to Middle Plantation to speak with their chief, Edward Nott. The Mattaponi council advised Blue Coat not to go. They fear that Chief Nott is setting a trap to keep Blue Coat away from Passaunkack. Without their chief, the white eyes would take our lands without a fight.”

  Chief Blue Coat paused to look at the elders seated around the council fire. If his words had not spoken the truth, it was their time to speak. They stared stoically at Blue Coat. Not one of them made a sound.

  Blue Coat told Tyoga, “That Chief Nott has summoned me to his council fire is a good thing. It means that he will hear Blue Coat’s words. This is a sign that he is a just and honest man. If he can stop the white eyes from taking our land, then I must go to Middle Plantation as he has asked. If I do not go, then he will sign our land over to this Carry and the others. There will be war and much killing. We will not allow the white eyes to take our land without a fight.”

  “How can I help the Mattaponi, Chief Blue Coat? What would you have me do?” Tyoga asked.

  “Go with Chief Blue Coat to Middle Plantation. Speak for the Mattaponi. Tell Edward Nott that we will not give away our ancestral home and that we will fight to keep what is ours. Chief Blue Coat does not speak the white eye’s tongue. If there is no one there to tell me what this man, Nott, is saying, how can I trust that his words are true? How will I know what is in his heart? You must go with Blue Coat to this place.”

  At this, the conversation ceased.

  Tyoga stared into the fire for a long time. He had not been in a city or town for many years. He had not moved within the white world and he wasn’t even sure what that really meant anymore.

  What will I see? How will I react?

  He was frightened at what he might discover, not only about the world beyond the Appalachians, but about the world within himself.

  After many minutes passed without a response from Tyoga, Chief Blue Coat added, “Wahaya-Wacon, if you do this for your Mattaponi brothers, the land two days walk in every direction from your Twin Oaks will be yours to live on in peace, forevermore.”

  Tyoga said, “Chief Blue Coat, I will go with you to Middle Plantation to speak with this Mr. Nott. But I do not go for the gift of the land. I go to stop a war and preserve the way of life for the Mattaponi. The land is yours. No one should be allowed to take it away.”

  Chapter 48

  Turnabout

  TThe following day, Tyoga and Trinity waved goodbye to their friends and pushed their canoe into the cold clear waters of the Mattaponi River. It was an hour after sunrise, and a ghostly mist still hovered just above the shiny glass surface of the river. Their home nestled between the twin oak trees was an easy trip from the village so Trinity, in the front of the canoe, did not need to help Tyoga paddle. They drifted lazily along with the morning breeze at their backs and the rising sun in their eyes.

  “How was your visit with your sister?” Tyoga asked.


  “Wonderful, Ty. She said that I can stay with her as long as I want to.”

  A wry smile creased Tyoga’s face when he used her Indian name. “Yutsa, why did you not stay with Grows Strong? Why are you sitting in the bow of my canoe, woman?”

  Trinity was looking straight ahead so that Tyoga could not see her face. He could tell that she was smiling broadly when she answered, “Because I want to go home.”

  Tyoga grinned and did not answer. He paddled the canoe out into the middle of the Mattaponi River and let the current glide them along. Securing the paddle to the stern with his left hand, he allowed it to sink only paddle-deep into the water and used it as a rudder to steer the canoe.

  After a while, Trinity said, “Grows Strong told me some stories about the legend of Tyoga Weathersby that I had not heard before.”

  Tyoga did not reply.

  “Sunlei was a beautiful, gifted woman,” Trinity added without any prompting.

  “Yes, she is,” Tyoga replied using the present tense.

  Trinity noticed and the smile left her face. She beamed again when Tyoga offered, “She is a lot like you.”

  The two floated quietly down the river. Their heads turned gently from side to side to gaze at the wonders of the cool Virginia morn. Deer by the dozens stood statue-like at the river’s edge. The does hovered over their playful fawns. The willows, birch, and elm trees were filled with song birds incessantly chirping to proclaim their ground. A fox and her cubs scurried back into the cover of the reeds as they rounded a bend, and hawks, searching the river for fingerling fry, soared overhead.

  Warmed by the rising sun they reveled in the joys of being—both of them thankful not to be alone.

  On the sandy east bank of the Mattaponi, their modest shelter haloed in the morning sun came into view. Like a castle’s sturdy parapets, the tall twin oaks stood powerful and strong, welcoming them home.