Adventures of Radisson

by Fournier, Martin

  “You were right to come.”

  Reassured, Ganaha sat down beside him and said:

  “Good. We are worried, my brother. I came to ask why you are hiding what troubles you. Are we not all bound by the same fate?”

  “The bad dream I had last night concerns but one of us,” replied Kondaron.

  “Orinha or Atotara?” asked Ganaha, after a moment’s thought.

  “Atotara is of the same blood and the same clan as we are. I mean Orinha.”

  “Orinha is also part of the Bear clan,” Ganaha replied. “He comes from my family. He is the adopted son who has taken the place of my beloved brother. He is loved very much by Katari and Garagonké, and by me.”

  “You are right. But that is not what is worrying me. You forget that we don’t know how he lived as a Frenchman before he became one of us. You know him better than any of us. Do you know?”

  “No,” admitted Ganaha. “All I know is that he showed himself to be brave and skilful when we captured him. I know he loves the Iroquois and wants to fight with us. He wants to win with us. He is sincere. Of that I have no doubt.”

  Kondaron’s face twitched slightly at the thought of the bad dream that had awakened him up with a start. How could he read anything into it if Orinha’s past remained a mystery to them? How could he comprehend the sign sent to him by the spirits? What did the image of suffering and death sent to him mean?

  “I believe it too,” replied Kondaron after a moment. “But that’s not the issue. Last night, I saw your brother perish beneath the blows of our enemies. His body was covered in blood and pierced with arrows, a stone tomahawk planted in his head. I am wondering if that means he is to die on our campaign.”

  Ganaha kept silent. Now it was his turn to be troubled by the morbid image.

  “Have you noticed that Orinha doesn’t wear a medicine bag like the rest of us?” continued Kondaron. “Do you know if a spirit is protecting him?”

  Ganaha remained deep in thought. He did not know.

  “It is true that Orinha wears no visible sign of the spirit that is protecting him,” he finally answered. “I don’t know if young Frenchmen choose a spirit to guide them for the rest of their lives, as we do. I’ve never thought about it before.”

  “Who will protect him then when he battles at our side? You? Me? Will the power of my guardian spirit extend to him? Will the word I gave to your father and my vigilance be enough? I am wondering what to do, Ganaha.”

  Ganaha did not have an answer. Suddenly he was overwhelmed at the thought that an ill omen seemed to be hanging over his brother, the younger brother that he too had promised to protect. He hoped the French won the favour of the spirits in their own way, and that he and his chief would be helped by spirits they did not know. He recalled the Great Spirit the Jesuit who lived in their longhouse for a few weeks would talk about.

  “Anyway,” Kondaron went on, “it’s up to me to resolve the problem. I’m asking you to continue to keep an eye on your brother as you’ve been doing. Show him everything he needs to know. I’ll find a way to extend the protection of the spirits that favour us. Because the spirits are once again in our favour, my dear brother. Look over there, in the middle of the lake.”

  Ganaha turned his head and saw the sun glinting off the lake’s surface.

  “The water is starting to filter through the ice,” Kondaron explained. “The pool of water reflecting the sun has been growing steadily since this morning. I’ve been watching it closely. Tonight, tomorrow at the latest, the ice will give way entirely and the lake will be free. And we will at last be able to paddle across to the Erie! Come, let’s share the good news with our companions.”

  AS THEY PADDLED energetically across what seemed like a sea of fresh water as big as the ocean, beneath a resplendent sun, carried along by a gentle breeze pushing them in the right direction, Orinha was drunk with happiness. When he felt thirsty, he drank clear water straight from the lake. When he was hungry, he ate the fish they’d caught that day. Each night, after setting up camp on the beckoning shore, they gathered around the fire to eat, sing, and tell stories. When night came, they slept under the stars beneath their canoes, breathing in the air perfumed with the springtime flora that was sprouting up everywhere around them. Orinha could not imagine being any happier. Nature’s generosity, the simple life, the freedom, this thrilling trip that carried him ever further, all were worth all the gold in the world. He savoured every minute of their time on the water, every instant given back to him one hundred-fold after his brush with death. Life provided him with everything he could wish for. He was happy to be an Iroquois. The serene days even caused him to forget the main reason for the idyllic journey— war.

  A week later, they reached the end of the lake. Kondaron chose the mouth of a broad river to set up a long-term camp.

  “From now on,” he explained, “our path will be less safe. We will have to be on our guard: the land of the Erie is not far away. Before we engage the enemy, we will have to stock up on provisions. Let each man get ready to hunt and fish. We will stay here for as long as it takes.”

  The ten men set about fishing right away. While Kondaron led four of the warriors hunting, three others stayed behind to smoke the fish they caught. Alone in his canoe, Orinha continued to fish a short distance from shore, fascinated by the immensity of the light-flooded lake. He wished the magic could last forever, that they would never turn inland to fight. He never tired of admiring the fresh vegetation that coloured the horizon, or of thanking nature for providing them with everything they needed, and more. A kind of ecstasy took hold of him as the blazing sun rose to its zenith in the pure blue sky. He was thrilled to be fishing for his brothers while they hunted for him, the same brothers who stuck together in life and in death and would soon be fighting alongside each other to save the peoples of the earth.

  As in a dream, Orinha imagined himself coming to this part of the world in different circumstances, to put into action an idea that had always been dear to him. His capture had brought his plans to an abrupt end, but he could see himself returning here to trade and to experience momentous events that would turn his world upside down. The powerful sun was making him dizzy. Out on the water, its intense reflections were blinding him. He read his fate in the gentle swaying canoe atop the water, written in letters of gold, like a message from another dimension. Orinha floated across the immense lake, across time, in a parallel world where humans, spirits, animals, earth, and water lived together in harmony.

  Cries rang out from the shoreline: “Orinha! Orinha! It’s getting dark! Come and eat!” His companions were waving to him. His dream vanished. He realized that the sun was disappearing over the horizon in a thousand shining colours. It was time to go back. Quickly, Orinha shook himself, pulled in his lines, grabbed his paddle, and headed back to camp. Ganaha was waiting for him on the shoreline with open arms: “Look, Orinha!” he exclaimed. “Look at the huge deer we killed! We’ll have enough meat for a week!”

  By now they had smoked and dried more provisions than they could carry. It was time to turn inland in search of the Erie.

  THE RIVER FLOWED slowly through flat terrain. They made rapid progress to the headwaters. After four days, they reached a small lake that Kondaron recognized. They were arriving in enemy territory, he told them; they must keep their wits about them. To the south and west of the crescent-shaped lake, forest fire had razed a vast area that they must cross to reach the land of the Erie. Kondaron thought it prudent to leave the canoes hidden by the lakeside, on the outskirts of that part of the forest spared by the fire, so they could make a quick escape if pursued by the enemy. If need be, they could build new ones.

  They shouldered their weapons and packs and continued on their way through the wasteland. There was nothing to hide behind and they felt under constant threat. They made quick progress, raising an acrid dust that stuck in their throats and choked them. Their supply of fresh water soon ran dry and they were reduced to drinking the
cloudy, ash-filled water they found in ponds and brooks. Every last animal had deserted that sterile place; the war party had to dip into its provisions of smoked meat and fish. When at last they reached the other side of the death and destruction, relieved no one had spotted them, Kondaron ordered a day of rest.

  After they had rested, they came to a hilly region and there followed a turbulent river that wound its way between steep banks. Sometimes they had to take to the riverbed, wading through the water, careful to keep their powder and muskets dry. When the current got too strong, they clambered up onto the bank and walked on through the woods. They advanced in this fashion for two days, heading south through the high hills. From the top of a headland, Kondaron at last saw a welcoming river flowing through a broad valley: the land of the Erie.

  Their every sense on high alert, without a sound, the ten men filed down through the open forest. Orinha was the only one to crack a twig or two underfoot. Ganaha, walking just ahead of him, turned and shot him furious glances. But all Orinha could do is shrug— there was nothing to do but wait until he became as nimble as his companions. It took them a few hours to reach the river. After carefully scrutinizing the area, Kondaron relaxed and announced that the Erie villages were still a good distance away: “We can set up camp here, no problem,” he told them. “Let’s retrace our steps and build a fortified camp a good distance away from the water. We’ll also have to build new canoes to move around in.”

  They selected a site slightly higher than its surroundings for their camp, five hundred paces from the river. A few conifers provided a screen. The next day, while the more experienced men fetched the bark needed to make canoes, gathered firewood, and went off hunting Kondaron brought Orinha and Atotara with him to inspect their surroundings. They combed the riverbank for the slightest indication of human activity. Kondaron scanned the ground and searched the sky above the opposite shore for any sign of smoke that would betray the presence of the Erie. As they moved about, he was careful not to snap the tiniest twig: he nudged them out of the way with his foot, clearing himself a path to ensure no one would ever know they had passed that way. He instructed his two young warriors to do exactly as he did and to take their bearings as they went.

  At the end of the day, as an exercise, Kondaron relied on his protégés to return to camp. Orinha had trouble finding the landmarks he had noted, but Atotara did it with ease. Subtly, Kondaron watched them just as carefully as he had looked for signs of life from the Erie. In both cases, he was satisfied. He’d found not a single trace of their enemy, and the war party’s two youngest members appeared ready for combat.

  Kondaron allowed tomahawks to be used to build the shelter and the canoes, which would be cruder than before. Hunting with a musket was the only thing he forbade: the noise would surely betray them. The log wall of the fortified camp was high enough to protect them from any Erie attack and large enough for them to sleep in safety during the night. A makeshift bark roof protected them from the elements. During the daytime, to avoid being surprised by the enemy, two men stood guard on a spit of land that jutted out into the river. When darkness fell, they all gathered around a crackling campfire. As they did not fear a night attack, they passed the time eating, talking, and loudly singing their war songs. Kondaron used the time to tell them tales of his victorious battles in the area last year. The emotion was palpable every time he mentioned the hundreds of people he terrorized with the firearms the Erie did not know, and the dozens of men and women killed or taken prisoner. “But this time,” he warned, “there are fewer of us, and the Erie will be less frightened of our muskets— many of them will know of them now. No doubt they will be better prepared to fight us. We must be extremely careful. I am counting on each of you to keep us safe. Stick together and always fight together. And we will win.”

  The preparations over, Kondaron divided the war party into three. Each group would head out in a different direction to explore the area. That way, they would locate the enemy quickly, wherever they might be. Four warriors would go north in one of the larger canoes; four more would head south in the other. Orinha and Atotara would travel up the stream opposite the encampment in the small canoe. “We’ll report back at camp at the end of the day,” said Kondaron.

  The stream was cluttered with fallen tree trunks, rocks, and roots, making headway difficult. Again and again they had to get out and wade through the water, dragging the canoe over obstacles. Then they jumped back in and paddled for a short distance, wading around more obstacles. Both wondered why Kondaron had sent them off in this direction, where they were sure no one ever came. But it was the mission their chief had assigned them, and they intended to fulfill it to the best of their ability.

  After several hours, they at last reached a small lake upon which they were surprised to see two human forms in the distance. They had been making no attempt to be silent, so their first reflex was to dive into the undergrowth and hide, in case their enemies heard them and attacked. They quickly opened the bark container protecting their powder and loaded their muskets, ears alert to the slightest suspicious sound. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. No one seemed to have seen them. Now that they could breathe more easily, they thought about what they should do.

  Atotara whispered in Orinha’s ear. He wanted to climb a tree to get an idea of how many people were out on the lake and see what they were up to. Orinha agreed in a whisper: “Go ahead. But stay well hidden and don’t make a sound. I’ll stay down here to keep watch.” Atotara climbed up onto Orinha’s shoulders, then hoisted himself up from one branch to another until he’d reached the top of a tall yellow birch. He stayed there for several minutes, not moving a muscle, until Orinha heard him scampering back down. He landed on the ground with a thud and Radisson lost his temper:

  “Shh!” he whispered. “You’ll give us away!”

  “There are only two of them,” Atotara replied. “Two fishermen. There’s no danger. Quick! We still have time to attack before nightfall! It will be our first victory and Kondaron will be proud of us! Follow me.”

  But Orinha shook his head violently.

  “No!” he replied. “Stay here! If we attack with guns, the Erie will know the Iroquois are back. If any more of them are nearby, they’ll attack and kill us, or else they’ll warn other Erie and hunt us down. It’s a stupid idea! We have to do what Kondaron said. We’ll return to camp and tell everyone we have found our enemies. C’mon, let’s go back!”

  Now it was Atotara’s turn to reject his companion’s idea out of hand. They started pushing and shoving each other, but Orinha was the stronger and managed to drag Atotara back to the canoe. The younger warrior had to swallow his anger and accept the law of the strongest, however difficult it might be. But he sat at the back of the canoe and only pretended to paddle. Orinha did all the work up front.

  The sun was already disappearing behind the trees. The day had gone by like a flash. No matter how hard Orinha paddled and wrestled with the obstacles in their path, the canoe could barely make headway. Atotara even refused to get out when his “chief” asked him to, stubbornly repeating: “We’d be far better off attacking them. They don’t suspect a thing. It would be so easy.”

  “Shut up!” snapped Orinha. “We have to tell Kondaron.”

  “We’ll bring two scalps back to camp and tell them, ‘we were the first to find the Erie. Follow us.’”

  “Kondaron told us to be careful and to stick together. He wants us to attack together. Don’t you ever listen?”

  They wasted a huge amount of time arguing back and forth. Night came and rain suddenly started to fall. The heavens opened. There was no way they could continue in such conditions. Finally, they decided to shelter on shore, protecting themselves under the overturned canoe. They had nothing to eat. And it was too late to make a fire in such a downpour. It was cold. All night long, they huddled together in their tiny shelter, furious with each other, not exchanging a word. Happily, the rain stopped at daybreak. Relieved, the two set off
again on a stream swollen by the cloudburst. The current swept them along toward the river. Their good humour returned at the thought that soon they would be eating with their companions. More than anything, they couldn’t wait to tell Kondaron they had found the enemy.

  ALONG WITH Otasseté, Ganaha had been keeping watch since dawn on the spit of land that formed a bend in the river. He’d slept badly and, worried, peered at the brook where Atotara and his brother had disappeared the day before. They hadn’t returned to camp for the night, as planned. He recalled Kondaron’s dream all too well, and the threat that hung over his brother. He was annoyed at himself for letting Orinha go off with the inexperienced Atotara, however harmless the brook might have looked. It was his responsibility to keep an eye on him. He also wondered why Kondaron had sent the party’s two youngest members to explore unknown territory alone in the first place.

  Time passed, and Ganaha was worried sick. If Orinha hadn’t already been ambushed or gotten lost in the forest, he swore he’d never let him leave his side again. After all, it was he who first saw what Orinha was made of. It was he who wanted him to join his family. And now it was up to Ganaha to make a real warrior out of him! He swore he would avenge Orinha’s death if ever the Erie had killed him. He would get them!

  At last! The two youngsters came into sight at the mouth of the stream, paddling feverishly toward him. Ganaha leaped out of his hiding place, waving furiously. He guided them to him, happy to see they were still alive. Otasseté remained at his post while Ganaha helped them land, then hide the canoe.