Certain that he was starving, Friend Seeker plotted his own small revenge. At the teacher's direction he caught and prepared the day's frog legs but he took only the smallest, skinniest frogs he could find. Then he cooked them to leather toughness before he called Three Feathers to dine.
The teacher left the lodge (where Friend Seeker was sure he lay planning his fiendish tortures). He stretched comfortably and without glancing at the frog legs walked away calling over his shoulder, "I am kindly this dusk, oh Squaw's Helper. With extra work still ahead you will need special feeding and I have nothing for you. Before we begin you may enjoy the frog legs you have so carefully prepared."
Bitter bile choked the throat of Friend Seeker. His secret glee dissolved and re-formed as leaden defeat. Three Feathers could not have known. Surely spirits plotted against him. He looked at the meatless legs with utter hatred and tried vainly to suck a trace of sustenance from a charred skin as he doused his fire.
Masking his own secret smile, Three Feathers wondered how many incidents would occur before his student suspected the small peek hole in the lodge side that allowed him to observe Friend Seeker's moves.
Of course he had been looking for this particular outrage. In his youth, his own teacher had lured him into the same trap as, he supposed, countless teachers had before. The fact was he had grown weary of frog legs and was pleased to end the game; there were, after all, many others.
There seemed no way to outwit or outlast Three Feathers and Friend Seeker became increasingly aware of a never easing contest between them. It was not necessarily an angry competition but it was never friendly. Three Feathers appeared to be striving with all his abilities to break the spirit of his student. He seemed determined to force him to call enough and fail to try again. The closer Friend Seeker came to collapse, the more gleeful Three Feathers became. His obvious pleasure steeled Friend Seeker's determination and he would stagger on, exhausted, worn, and dulled to all around him. And suddenly, Three Feathers would be walking away leaving the field, and through his pain he would experience a tiny exultation by having lasted through another day.
Days ran together without meaning, each broken by nights of heavy sleep so deep even dreams rarely appeared. He slept in the open between two worn deerskins Three Feathers had provided. If it rained he curled himself tighter and ignored the cold trickles, too tired to care.
Only the early mornings were worth living. Despite his need for more sleep he forced his aching body to function. He slopped himself clean in the creek and limped stiff and lame muscled to his mother's lodge. There, loving care was lavished upon him as he relaxed in his favorite place. His brothers and sisters treated him with respectful distance and even his father spoke with him as an equal. Only if he seriously complained did his parents close their faces to him. He learned to voice his disgruntlements as amusing tales of the horrible tricks perpetrated on him by Three Feathers. Then the lodge rang with appreciative laughter with even his mother forgetting to courteously cover her mouth with her hand.
The frog legs story became a favorite that never failed to roll the children with glee and with each telling he embellished the tale until it was so polished he was sure it would remain a cherished family legend long after he and all around him were dust.
His mother prepared his favorite dishes and favored him with the savoriest morsels. He ate with unexcelled relish but with essential restraint. The tasks of Three Feathers were invariably harsh and after puking away a number of hearty breakfasts, he learned moderation. Too soon, Three Feathers' whistle pulled him away and he hid his stiffness to appear at the learning tree, stone-faced and ready for another day.
Often he was put to special tasks while Three Feathers taught others. Occasionally he sat with children while they learned something he had long mastered. Yet if his attention wandered, Three Feathers was on him like a hornet, mortifying him before the others and proving he knew less than he thought. Sometimes he taught skills to small boys, and he learned both patience and awareness of the need to be always a step ahead of even those young minds.
Mostly he labored at preposterous tasks. Three Feathers asked him if he ran well with bow and arrows. Having learned caution he answered evasively. Dismayed by his student's lack of confidence, the teacher vowed to build Friend Seeker's abilities. The way to do that, it appeared, was to equip the student with an arm-thick oak log with a handhold carved at the balance. This tree, it seemed, simulated a war bow. A proper quiver was easier. Three Feathers simply chose the largest he could find and filled it with stones. So armed, Friend Seeker ran the ridges and valleys. He sweated and strained, encouraged only by the satisfaction of being beyond Three Feathers' barbed tongue.
As he progressed, the early lessons were not forgotten. He carried ever larger logs to the swimming spot and back until he wondered if Three Feathers believed Late Star was as heavy as a buffalo. He climbed the vine with a large stone between his knees, and inevitably he swam the river bearing the stone upon which the smaller stone had rested.
Periodically, Three Feathers borrowed bows. Friend Seeker drove countless arrows through ever smaller targets under the guise of becoming used to strange weapons. The student was not surprised that each bow boasted a heavier pull until there were no stronger bows to be had. His fingers developed thick calluses and his grip became crushing.
In late summer he stood above a still pool and studied his reflected image. He found it hard to know himself. His face seemed a trifle fearful with hollow eyes staring from lean and drawn features. He had cropped his hair close, making his head appear too small for his expanding body, and his skin, darkened by continual exposure, looked tough and leathery. When he moved, corded muscle writhed and his approving smile tightened lips against skin, taut without protecting fat.
If his reflection showed progress, other incidents demonstrated improvement. Once, when finishing a brutally long run carrying his oak "bow," stone filled quiver, and a message in the form of a gravel filled pouch, a gangly and springy youth loped up beside him, his look challenging and arrogant. Resisting an urge to smash him to the ground, the Seeker opened his stride, ignoring the chafe of burdens and shifting the oak log to his stronger arm. Together they raced for the mile distant village. The youth, first buoyantly confident, soon settled into his own flinty determination as stride for stride they covered the ground. Fire ate at Friend Seeker's thighs and his mouth dried with thick cottony spittle at his lips. He sucked air, driving his legs through their agony, concentrating solely on smoothing his run and using his strength wisely.
He could hear the boy's lungs sawing beside him and through the mist of his own pain saw the other's arms beginning to flail. Summoning all his heart he increased his pace a trifle and then a trifle more. For an interminable number of strides the youth stayed with him. Then he broke, slowing to a trot and a walk, finally to a halt panting with hands fisted on hips. Friend Seeker ran on, slowing his pace to a tolerable run and letting the sense of his startling ability envelop him.
To outrun such a gnat-weight youth was accomplishment enough. To break him at the end of a lengthy run while burdened by Three Feathers' trappings, was genuine triumph. He reached his fire, threw aside his accouterments, and vomited in dry wracking heaves into the stream. He stayed there until ready to face Three Feathers' smarting disdain, but when he turned the teacher sat smoking contentedly beneath his tree and only then signaled for Friend Seeker to join him.
In another instance, Three Feathers was called to important council and he instructed only that his student spend the time considering himself and his progress. Poking aimlessly about, The Seeker paused at the vine he so regularly climbed. For many months he had not attempted the climb without heavy weights. Idly he grasped the vine, savoring the power of shoulder and arm. He rose with startling ease, legs held straight before him, each arm in turn drawing him upward. He touched the limb, placing stress on the arm clasping the vine and enjoying the lack of tremor or quickened breathing. He descended s
lowly, halting just above the ground, knowing he could go up again and perhaps a third time. He stepped away, feeling the goodness of reasonable exercise.
To the side, a group of boys had watched, his old companions were standing among them. As he entered the woods, they straggled to the vine with pretended indifference. Hidden among the trees, Friend Seeker watched with satisfaction as each youth, grunting and struggling attempted the climb. None approached the limb without clamping his thighs and feet to the vine.
Three Feathers' voice startled them all. "Do boys seek to match a young warrior's strength?" Abashed, the youths denied any such intent and hurried away. From his hiding. Friend Seeker glowed at his teacher's accolade. It was astounding how Three Feathers could appear at improbable moments. Knowing his teacher, he suddenly wondered if Three Feathers knew he watched from hiding. No, if he had, his remarks would have been scathing to his student. Content, he slipped away.
Pausing before his own lodge, Three Feathers saw a bird flush from the grove where Friend Seeker had disappeared. He had seen the boys watching his student and recognized Friend Seeker's awareness of them. Could the young warrior not watch and see how they fared? Improbable. Even the hardiest at times needed encouragement. His words were for Friend Seeker, not the awkward youths and he was sure he had been heard.
His was a position of stern instructor. A thousand times his spirit had longed to reach out to the struggling youth. He ached to reward him for progress far beyond the expected. He wished to cheer his protégé's skills and applaud his unstinting effort, but to do so might in some small way weaken his leadership. This, Three Feathers chose not to risk. Still, if his student overheard an appropriate remark or two—that would not matter. The wily old warrior congratulated himself and wondered if his student suspected.
— — —
Chapter 5
During the training of Friend Seeker, life in the Buffalo Creek village continued as it had before the Piscataway raid and as it would long after the incident was forgotten.
Yet lives were affected and altered. Small, perhaps imperceptible, changes came to the village. Restrictions were placed on children and for a time they played close to the lodges. Three Feathers' students appeared to listen closer to their teacher and they too limited their woods roving. Village hunters chose to team in pairs rather than travel alone.
The women, the most timorous of all (which could indicate the most thoughtful), became exceedingly cautious. When they visited outlying fields or foraged further thickets, they posted older women as lookouts and were prepared to flee at first warning.
The most dangerous time for a village was known to be shortly before dawn when all slept heavily. For a few nights, women's demands kept men alert and waiting, but with the enemy believed to have crossed the mountain, the hunters soon abandoned their guard. Even then, huddled close against her man, more than one woman fought sleep listening to the night, fearful of being roused by enemy war cries.
With the raiders withdrawn there was no hurry and the summer was nearly gone before the Iroquois came.
The war party appeared in silent column and squatted, unsmiling and unmoving, until their leader spoke with village fathers.
The Iroquois had sent Onondaga warriors to answer the Pistecataway raid into their lands. To this Three Feathers grunted approval. As the heart of the Iroquois Confederacy, the Onondaga claimed the seat of power. At their fire circle, the sachems met and, on the sacred lands of the Onondaga mighty decisions were made. That the Onondaga appeared to avenge the dirtying of Iroquois soil by Piscataway moccasins honored the Delaware village and all were pleased.
The Iroquois had come with serious intent. They wasted no time in council or in formal courtesies. The warriors were fed as their leader talked, and a few items were taken by women for hasty repair. The Iroquois wore long hunting shirts that hung to their thighs. Moccasins were of a pattern rising high above the ankles. All handled bows and war clubs and there were spears with long stone heads securely fastened to arrow-straight hickory shafts.
At the Iroquois leader's belt and tight to his hip rode an iron tomahawk. The metallic glint and sharpened edge drew Friend Seeker's eyes more hungrily than the finest of meals. His fingers fairly ached for the feel of such a weapon. How clumsy the clubs and spears appeared against the tomahawk's clean-edged deadliness. Such a blade would raise a warrior's abilities many heights. Once, Three Feathers had shown his own iron knife to his students. Though old and worn, it had cut cleanly where a flint knife barely scraped. Friend Seeker had been impressed then, but the tomahawk fairly entranced him.
The Iroquois wore their hair cut and stiffened into the scalp locks often favored by Mohawks. Their shaven skulls and roached hair made them look alike and added an aura of menacing unity. Their only paint was small personal adornment, but paint pots were surely carried in some pouches as severe decoration would be necessary if they took the war trail.
Only Three Feathers spoke as an equal to the Iroquois. Although not voiced, Friend Seeker sensed a certain constraint among his people. Excepting Three Feathers, they answered perhaps too eagerly or nodded agreement too quickly. Standing well away, Friend Seeker felt his soul rankle and resolved to speak with Three Feathers about his people's hesitancy.
The Piscataway raid was explained in detail and there was some pointing at both Friend Seeker and Little Boy. After a proper period, Three Feathers beckoned Friend Seeker forward and he strode to the leaders conscious of his slighter form and the many eyes judging him. He met the level gaze of the Iroquois as straight as he could. He spoke shortly and truly and he answered the Onondaga leader's clumsy Delaware clearly and directly.
When the leader turned to Three Feathers, Friend Seeker was able to study him closely. He had noted the warrior's sharpness of eye and quick understanding of his explanation.
The Iroquois honored him by addressing him as an equal and Friend Seeker had replied in kind without embarrassment or arrogance. For the instant he experienced the warmth of warrior empathy, as though they knew and shared knowledge and experience beyond the comprehension of lesser men. Even the small taste was a heady draught and Friend Seeker's spirit enfolded it and hungered for more.
The Iroquois leader turned away with an appreciative grunt for Three Feathers and a raking glance across a still tingling Friend Seeker. He crouched among his men gobbling in a strange tongue. They answered, sounding to Friend Seeker like a turkey flock.
Three Feathers joined the other men of the village who seemed nervous, as though unsure of the Iroquois' intentions. Their small agitation reminded Friend Seeker that the men of his tribe had grown with tales of the fierce battles with the grandfathers of these same warriors. He understood their unease, but decided that if Three Feathers, who had fought them eye-to-eye was undisturbed, their anxiety was unfounded.
Three Feathers explained the Iroquois' actions. "In answer to our call, this scouting party has come from the Beaver Clan of the Onondaga. They are led by Oak Neck, a Seneca warrior whose name is known.
"Oak Neck has listened to our words and decides now what path to follow." Three Feathers scratched at his thinned gray pate. "Oak Neck has known many such raids. I believe he will follow the Piscataway into their lands, but he will choose to bear the forked stick of the message carrier.
"Among the Piscataway he will seek information and warn of Iroquois anger. Of course, the Piscataway will know nothing and will answer with shrugs and rolled eyes. As warning and to make his journey worthwhile, Oak Neck may demand gifts of wampum or furs. He might even burn a lodge or two reminding the Piscataway that the arm of the Iroquois longhouse reaches far."
Three Feathers sighed and scratched again. "Then Oak Neck will return and the matter will be finished. Undoubtedly the Piscataway and others will remember Oak Neck's visit and restrain their young warriors from adventuring to the north. None of this, however, truly avenges Eagle or aids Late Star."
Such was Oak Neck's decision. Having reached accord with hi
s warriors, he delayed no longer. The band rose, adjusted weapons and were ready. Friend Seeker remained close to the side of Three Feathers. Having received no signal to withdraw he grasped the opportunity to stand among the warriors. He studied their preparations and wondered what skills they possessed. He wished he could join the column, for with them he could see the broad-rivered lands of his enemies and perhaps learn Iroquois ways of battle. He compared their physiques with his own and supposed he should improve. He found his jaw tensed in determination.
The deep tones of Oak Neck interrupted his concentration. The Iroquois spoke to Three Feathers but his eyes examined Friend Seeker. "Your student measures himself, Old Warrior.
"He has looked so closely at my tomahawk I fear he has dulled its edge." Friend Seeker felt a flush rise as his teacher too examined him, but he stood steady, his gaze unwavering.
Three Feathers' answer could be heard by all and Friend Seeker silently thanked him for not belittling him before the powerful Iroquois. "When he is ready, Friend Seeker will go among the Piscataway and avenge his friends."
Oak Neck's mouth tightened, "Waugh! The task is worthy. The Piscataway are strong enemies. Teach him well, oh Three Feathers, for he will need all that he can learn." He turned to his men. Then, as though having second thoughts, Oak Neck paused to again examine Friend Seeker. Meeting the warrior's steady gaze the Seeker detected interest and perhaps a certain compassion, mostly hidden. "When he is ready send him to my winter lodge beyond Shamokin. For a full turning of the moon I will teach him other ways."
Oak Neck turned away and only Friend Seeker heard Three Feathers' surprised grunt and saw pleasure grip his teacher's face. He felt his own heart pounding and his palms tingled with excitement.
Friend Seeker (Perry County, Pennsylvania Frontier Series) Page 5
