Adventures of Radisson

by Fournier, Martin

  Members of the Tortoise clan were invited to the feast as the leader of the war party, Kondaron, was from their clan. The previous summer, he had undertaken a victorious campaign against the Erie, making him the obvious choice to lead Ganaha, Radisson, and the six other warriors from the Bear clan that made up the troop. This time Radisson joined in the dancing and shouted out the war song he had chosen, delighted at the chance to show the Iroquois his strength and enthusiasm. He got to know Kondaron, his captain: a young warrior who was both bigger and stronger than he was, twenty-three years old, just like Ganaha. He made a powerful impression. Despite his youth, Kondaron’s face, gestures, and words already showed the confidence and dignity of an older, more experienced man. Kondaron promised Garagonké he would do everything in his power to protect his two sons, kill as many enemies as possible, and bring back many prisoners.

  After a copious meal prepared in huge copper cooking pots acquired from the Dutch, after the singing, the dancing, and the shows of strength from the nine young warriors, Radisson’s father took the floor to bring the evening to a close.

  “My heart is heavy at having to wait for another whole moon before I myself leave for war against the nations in the north, where winter still lingers on. But I am glad to see the first war party of the year go out, and gladder still to celebrate the determination shown by my two sons, to whom I wish courage and success. Kondaron will make a fine war chief: powerful spirits have guided and protected him since he was born. I implore the spirits of our ancestors to help you show once and for all the supremacy of the Iroquois over all other nations. Hail Kondaron, Ganaha, Orinha, Otasseté, Tahonsiwa, Shononses, Tahira, Deconissora, and Thadodaho, who will sow terror among the Erie!”

  Katari did not shout with joy along with others. Sitting a bit toward the rear, with her friend Teharongara, the peace chief, she was disappointed to see Orinha become a warrior so quickly and so readily. She had hoped he would help her advocate for peace, which she believed to be more and more vital to the well-being of her clan and her family. But Orinha was lost to the war fever for that had taken hold of the entire Mohawk nation. She did not feel much like celebrating.

  Conharassan, Orinha’s favourite sister, also shed a tear as she expressed her lukewarm enthusiasm. She had distanced herself from her brother ever since he had returned to the village, ever since the three young men he had left with had been murdered, since he had run away, since he had been tortured and pardoned. The affair was still on everybody’s lips, and some of the rumours divided her loyalties. Some said Radisson really had murdered the Iroquois. But in spite of everything, she still loved this man. He was not like anyone else she knew, and she was sad to see him go.

  CHAPTER 6

  ORINHA,

  APPRENTICE WARRIOR

  ON A WARM SPRING DAY, the small troop left the village. Radisson and each of his eight companions carried a musket, ample supplies of powder and shot, a tomahawk, an iron knife, two shirts, a coat, and two wool blankets— all obtained from their Dutch neighbours in exchange for beaver pelts. They also each brought eight pairs of leather moccasins for the trail ahead, which looked like being long indeed, and two pieces of leather cut in advance from which to make a new pair of pants, when the time came. They had a good reserve of cornmeal for times when hunting and fishing would bring scant reward, and for luck each wore a precious wampum, the shell necklaces so prized by the Iroquois. If need be, they could trade them to get out of a tight spot.

  Radisson looked just like his companions in every respect: head shaved for combat with only a thin strip of hair down the middle, weather-beaten skin, shell necklace and bracelet. With his sturdy shoulders, broad chest, and muscular legs, he was built like a bear, only taller: in fact, he was one of the tallest in the group. The red, black, and brown war paint he was wearing masked the firm lines of his smiling face. His black, piercing eyes gleamed with joy now that he had won the confidence of his family, of his clan, and was getting ready to fulfill his dream: he was off to discover wide-open spaces and live a life of adventure. At last he would be able to prove to his parents that they were right to forgive him and take him in as their own son. He felt he was Orinha from the tips of his hair to the ends of his fingernails and promised himself to accomplish the exploits everyone expected of him.

  His group strode out of the village to the cheers of dozens of members of the Bear clan. Radisson did not look back. The farewell ceremonies were over, and the future now lay before of him. He had only to follow Ganaha and their chief Kondaron to fulfill his destiny as a warrior. When he returned from this campaign, he was quite sure he would have repaid his debt to his parents and his Iroquois brothers.

  WHEN THEY REACHED the land of the Oneida, the Mohawks’ immediate neighbours, a warrior by the name of Atotara, who was even younger than Radisson, joined the group. He had fought the previous fall alongside Ganaha, who had promised to bring him on his next campaign. All except Kondaron were from the Bear clan, and the clan was organizing a big feast to celebrate the party’s departure. Radisson was pleased at no longer being the youngest and sang and danced so energetically at the feast that Atotara’s family and friends were filled with admiration. Carried away by his enthusiasm, he told anyone who cared to listen how many enemies he would kill and how many prisoners he would bring back. Everyone congratulated him, especially Kondaron and Ganaha, and the Oneida were delighted that an adopted Frenchman had joined their cause with such relish.

  The ten warriors cut across the lands of the Onondaga, the Cayuga, and then the Seneca, moving steadily westward. They were welcomed everywhere they went with just as much warmth and enthusiasm. The fighting season would soon begin for all. With every passing village, Radisson felt more at ease in his new role as warrior. Following his companions’ example, he promised time and again to shake the Erie nation to its foundations and return victorious.

  Once they passed the last Seneca village, once the slaves they brought with them set down their packs and turned back along with the Seneca that had come along to encourage them, the festive fever evaporated. The ten warriors found themselves alone, ready to begin a long journey and encounter dangers and obstacles that were shaping up to be plentiful. Kondaron paused before their long journey really began and gave a speech to spur on each of his men, who stood gathered in a circle around him.

  “We are now going to take the route I followed last year,” he told them. “It is long and will sometimes be difficult. But I know it well and I know how to work around the obstacles we will encounter. I am sure it will lead us on to victory: never has a chief been able to count on so many fearless warriors as I. To win, my brothers, every day we must remind ourselves that we need each other like the soil needs the rain and the sun if it is to grow corn. Whatever the obstacles, we will overcome them. Whatever the enemies, we will fight together as a single man. And we will all return to this place and celebrate our victories. Do not forget, Ganaha, I am counting on you. Just as I am counting on you, Otasseté, Tahonsiwa, and Shononses, just as much as I am counting on Tahira, Deconissora, and Thadodaho. Orinha and Atotara, you are the youngest among us and you have not yet known real battle. I am also counting on you. We are all in this great adventure together. We are all a single being. Now, take your packs and follow me. We will walk for days to reach a huge lake. The Erie live at the end of the lake. Let us be off, my brothers! May the spirits be with us!”

  “Ho! Ho!” the men called out as one, to show they were behind Kondaron.

  Ganaha realized it was now his duty to keep an eye on Orinha. His younger brother still had much to learn about war and travel through unknown territory. He began to give him advice.

  “Put your snowshoes on first,” he told him. “Then pick up your pack. Adjust the strap to balance the weight on your back. Don’t lean too far forward, or too far back. Find your balance… Ready? Follow me.”

  Radisson, the least experienced member of the group, took longer than the others to get ready. He and Ganaha h
urried to catch up with their companions, but Radisson was carrying a heavy load, and constantly slipping and sliding on the muddy ground covered with melting snow. Ganaha was by now far ahead of him and took his place at the head of the group, just behind Kondaron. Despite his best efforts, Radisson brought up the rear and fell further behind, far behind Atotara who, although not as strong, was more accustomed to walking with snowshoes. Ganaha regularly waited for his brother to catch up, encouraging him and keeping him company.

  “How are you doing? Tired? Need help?”

  “No!” snapped Radisson, too proud to admit he was finding the going tough. “My snowshoes need adjusting. It will be better tomorrow. Go walk with the others, at your own pace. Atotara and I will follow your tracks.”

  In truth, Radisson was afraid the day would never end. He did not know his companions were so strong, so tough, so indifferent to hardship. On and on they walked without ever stopping, not even to eat. They hurried ahead and Radisson had trouble keeping up with Atotara, who was now completely out of sight. At the end of the day, when he could barely make out his companions’ tracks in the snow and the trees seemed to be closing in around him, towering, dark, and menacing, fear washed over him. Fortunately, Ganaha came back to meet him, and Radisson was doubly relieved. First, to see him appear around a bend, and then to learn he was only ten minutes away from camp. He’d managed to survive the first day. His honour was intact. And nobody was holding his lack of experience or the fact that he was late against him. Kondaron and Otasseté even congratulated him for managing to keep up so well. “It’ll be easier tomorrow,” Kondaron told him. “You’ll get used to it.”

  Atotara was just as exhausted as Radisson and threw him an understanding glance. Both could think only of getting some rest while the others divided the work between themselves. Four of them made the most of the last glimmers of daylight to go hunting nearby. The others set up camp for the night, gathering fir tree boughs to sleep on, finding wood for the fire, and cooking what food they had. Soon they were gathered around the fire for a frugal meal.

  For the next six days, from dawn to dusk, they kept up their furious pace, almost without stopping. The forest unfolded before them, slowly and endlessly. A few clumps of conifers added a dash of colour amidst the bare-leaved trees that lined the monotonous landscape with their thin branches. The only consolation was the heartening sight of the warm sun that occasionally shone in the blue sky. But the warmth made the snow heavy and sticky, and transformed their snowshoes into balls and chains they were forced to drag along behind them like condemned men. Taking them off did not help either: their feet sank deep into the snow, making walking almost impossible. Radisson, who wasn’t used to walking at such a pace with snowshoes, and with so much weight on his back, often lost his footing on the half-frozen ground. He became angry with himself and hurried to catch up with the others, seething. How he wanted to know everything there was to know about the life of these Iroquois warriors! At least once a day, Ganaha left his favoured place just behind Kondaron at the head of the column to spend some time alongside Radisson.

  The time spent with Ganaha was an extraordinary source of motivation for young Orinha, who was forgetting more and more that he was once Radisson. Even though he was still dead last, he could now remain a part of the group the whole day. He was pleased and proud of his progress, especially since his companions were showing more confidence in him by the day. Whenever Ganaha and Radisson walked together, they spoke very little. From time to time, his elder brother pointed out an animal scurrying back into the forest, drew his attention to a feature of the landscape that could be used as a landmark, or showed him a valuable tree and told him what it was used for. He was constantly encouraging Orinha, ensuring he made rapid progress. The weight on Orinha’s shoulders seemed to grow lighter, and the forest became more fascinating, more enlightening.

  At day’s end, the small group busied itself finding something to eat and getting ready for bed. The routine was well established, and it was reassuring how the group’s members worked together so efficiently.

  WHEN THEY REACHED the broad lake they had to cross to reach the Erie, Kondaron looked visibly disappointed. Unlike the previous year, it was still frozen, and the time they would be forced to wait went against the chief’s plans. On the other hand, at least they now had plenty of time to build the canoes they would need to cross the water.

  On the first day, they built a bark lodge where the forest met the shore, to shelter from the cold and the bad weather. It was just big enough for all ten of them to sleep in, around a modest fire.

  The next day, they began building their canoes. For want of birch, which was rare in this part of the country, the ten men paired off in search of the elms that would give them the bark they needed. Ganaha and his younger brother Orinha were on the same team.

  “Look!” exclaimed Ganaha, pointing out an enormous elm, tall and straight. “No need to look any further! Let me show you how it’s done.” Orinha watched his brother cut a large groove around the tree with his knife, at about thigh height. Then he lifted his head and pointed out to Orinha the junction of the first big branch and the trunk, several feet above their heads.

  “You climb up there,” Ganaha instructed him, “and cut another groove around the tree, just above that big branch. Then, cut the bark lengthwise from top to bottom. After that, I’ll show you how to peel the bark away without breaking it.”

  “No problem,” replied Orinha. “But how do I get up there? And once I’m there, how will I find the strength to cut through the bark the way you did?”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll manage. We’ll start by building you something to stand on.”

  Through the thin layer of snow that still covered the forest floor, Ganaha spied two long branches. They were dead but seemed solid enough. With his tomahawk, he freed them and cut them to the right length. Then he leaned them tight against the trunk of the elm.

  “Climb up these poles and stand on them. I’ll help you. Then, loop this rope around your waist, and then around the tree. That way you’ll have both hands free to cut into the bark with your knife. Got it?”

  “Got it! I’ll take a run-up and you give me a shove when I reach you, got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Here I come…”

  Orinha dashed forward as Ganaha pushed him upward with all his strength, and all of a sudden the younger brother was standing at the top of their makeshift ladder, right where it met the trunk. Orinha hugged the tree, looped the rope around it, and then set about cutting deep into the bark, right down to the wood. The brothers moved their ladder three times as they worked their way around the tree. All they had to do now was cut the bark from top to bottom, the easiest part. Orinha grabbed the knife with both hands and put all his weight against it, letting himself slide back down into Ganaha’s arms. Then his brother took care of the awkward part, slowly tearing the bark away from the trunk, careful not to let it break.

  The operation took them all day. At dusk, the brothers brought the long roll of bark back to camp. It was in perfect condition and would be used to make the hull of a canoe. The next day Shononses, Otasseté, Thadodaho, and Tahira brought back two shorter rolls of bark from thinner elms.

  Otasseté was the most experienced canoe builder among them. He oversaw the building of the three canoes, with help from Shononses and Thadodaho. The others cut and prepared the thin inside ribs that would make it tough and strong. Next, they dug up and prepared the roots that were used to sew the strips of bark and the wood ribs together. The last step was to make the seams watertight, using spruce gum. Eight days later, the group boasted one large canoe seating four and two smaller ones that could carry three people each.

  Orinha, who was learning each of the techniques for the very first time, was impressed by his companions’ ingenuity. They had come here with no materials at all, with only tomahawks and knives for tools, and now in no time at all they had three solid canoes that would bring th
em to the ends of the earth! His opinion of them, formed as he listened to never-ending boasts of their military prowess around the fire, or watched their eyes light up at games of chance, had completely changed. Here, deep in the forest, on the warpath, his friends were revealing their many talents. Orinha was happy to be living life to the full with them.

  BUILDING THE CANOES had taken their mind off the lingering bad weather. Now that they were ready to push off onto the still-frozen lake, they did not know what to do. They could not stand being crowded into their smoky camp shelter for hours on end, even though it protected them from the violent squalls that chilled their morale as much as their bodies. The cold and wind seemed to have frozen even the game, no trace of which could be found in the forest. All too often, the hunters came back empty-handed. What’s more, the fragile, porous ice that still covered the lake was preventing them from moving away from the shoreline and fishing beneath the ice, as they would have done in the heart of winter. And so they were reduced to eating away at their rapidly declining provisions of cornmeal, provisions that were intended for use only in combat or on long journeys.

  Kondaron was worried. He wondered if the setbacks they’d experienced meant the spirits were not favourable to the campaign. He wasn’t contemplating turning back just yet, but doubt had begun to set in. Orinha, who thus far hadn’t set much store by the often subtle revelations made by the spirits, could also feel the anxiety spreading throughout the war party.

  One morning, a bad dream awakened Kondaron. Shaken by the images that suddenly loomed before him, he hurriedly made a fire and threw a few handfuls of tobacco into the flames to ward off the ill fortune that had appeared to him in his sleep. His surprised companions worried even more when Kondaron went off before they could share the meal Shononses had prepared for them, saying: “I must consult the spirits. Do not disturb me. I will be down by the lake.” To lighten the atmosphere, Shononses shrugged and suggested they go ahead and eat, as though nothing had happened. Later, midway through an idle day when nobody felt much like doing anything, Ganaha made up his mind to seek out Kondaron, saying he wanted to go hunting. But first he hoped to find out what was on his mind. Kondaron saw him approach and spoke first: