To avoid being found out, they kept to the borders of the Erie lands, constantly on the move, always in Indian file. They never spent more than two or three days in the same place and used their canoes only at night. And so they encountered fewer enemies. Since they had already killed twenty-two Erie and each boasted at least one scalp hanging from his belt, they preferred to keep the risk to a minimum and wait until the time was right for another great victory. Nevertheless, this strategy too was starting to put their patience to the test.
At last, a chance to ambush and kill the Erie presented itself. They spotted a group of thirty or so Erie far in the distance and tracked them for a whole day. By their estimate, the group numbered as many men as women. They were carrying goods in huge wicker baskets and seemed to be walking to a trading place, perhaps an Erie village, perhaps a village of another nation. Even though they were armed, they were clearly not on the warpath. The Iroquois now knew the region well enough to be certain that no Erie village or camp was less than a day away by foot. Their prey would be far from help. All the conditions for an Iroquois attack were falling into place. Under cover of darkness, Kondaron gave the order to move in.
In the morning, they saw that the group consisted of exactly twenty-one men and twelve women. From a distance, their long hair and identical leather clothing had led the Iroquois to first believe that women were carrying all the baskets, but such was not the case. Three scouts had already taken the lead when the group broke camp. Ten armed men guarded the twenty carriers, five in front and five behind the main group. Unless they were concerned about an Iroquois attack, such precautions indicated that the baskets contained valuables. Kondaron and his troop followed along a short distance behind them, to their right.
The chief kept Ganaha, Otasseté, and Tahonsiwa at his side to advise him. He motioned for them to come closer: “They seem tougher than we thought,” he whispered. “Do you still think we should attack?” All three nodded. “Then we have to surround them.” He pointed to Otasseté and Tahonsiwa. “You two take the left flank with Tahira, Deconissora, and Thadodaho. I’ll stay with Ganaha and the others on this side. We’ll surround them completely, on all sides, both front and rear. Our attack will throw them into a panic. Otasseté, when you are all ready, hoot three times like an owl. Then, attack on my signal.” Kondaron pointed to his musket and motioned that they would each fire twice from hiding before closing in to fight hand-to-hand. “I’ll fire first,” added Kondaron. Then, each of you will fire in turn. Our weapons will terrorize them. Let’s hope a few of them fall before we move in. All right, let’s go!”
Kondaron sent Shononses up to the front on his flank. Atotara went between the two. Kondaron stayed in the centre, with Orinha and Ganaha taking up the rear. But it was much too risky for the other five warriors to outflank the Erie, then take up their positions all the way along the left flank. Those who had to move up front quickened their step. Alas, the manoeuvre drew the attention of an Erie guard, who caught a glimpse of Tahonsiwa running between the trees. He sounded the alarm immediately. The Erie stopped, closed ranks, and the carriers set down their baskets while the archers got ready to fire at the only enemy they’d seen. But Tahonsiwa hid behind a tree. The tension was thick enough to cut.
Otasseté hooted three times like an owl and Kondaron ordered the attack. He stood up from behind the ferns and realized that the Erie were watching their other flank. He took time to aim, then fired and crouched back down in the grass to reload. Nine other shots sounded, one after the other. The Erie did not know which way to turn. The women began to scream. Orinha was already scrambling back to his feet to fire a second round. He drew a bead on an archer whose back was turned, fired, and watched the archer fall face down to the ground. Orinha hid behind his tree again, rushing to reload his musket to fire a third time before Kondaron’s signal. More shots rang out. Orinha could hear the Erie shouting and moaning, distraught.
When Kondaron got up to fire a second time, he saw that the Erie had regrouped. They’d formed a circle, protecting themselves behind their baskets. He could see bodies and a few wounded Erie writhing on the ground, but their strategy was paying off. From his hiding place, Kondaron counted the shots apprehensively, waiting for the twentieth before he roared for his men to attack. But before he had finished counting, Atotara stood up next to him, opened fire, and launched the attack. The Erie let fly with a volley of arrows at their one and only target, and the young warrior paid for his daring with his life. Two men pounced on him and finished him off with a stone tomahawk. Shononses seized the opportunity to dash out from his hiding place and fire an arrow at one of them from point-blank range. Orinha fired his third shot at the group of carriers. Still more shots rang out.
Kondaron let out his death yell and leaped from his hiding place at the same time as the eight other demons, letting fly with arrows and brandishing their muskets. The Erie were totally confused. Ganaha planted his tomahawk right in the heart of the man closest to him, who collapsed. The Erie replied as best they could, firing back with arrows, but hand-to-hand fighting had already begun. The Erie’s wooden clubs and stone tomahawks banged noisily against the Iroquois’ iron weapons. Cries and moans echoed through the forest as both sides lashed out, shoved, dodged, squirmed free, grabbed hold of each other. Enraged, they charged one another, lost hope and retreated. A handful of Erie braves fought on doggedly as others picked up their baskets, administered help to one of the wounded, and fled. None of the Iroquois gave chase. Four Erie kept up the fight and counterattacked the Iroquois with ferocity. When the last Erie had been beaten to the ground, Kondaron ordered his men to stay where they were, to avoid any ambush the survivors might have prepared. The bitter confrontation had left them all exhausted. A number of Iroquois were injured.
The Erie had shown astonishing courage and energy, despite being surrounded by the Iroquois with their superior weapons. A good twenty of them had survived the attack and managed to escape. Fifteen or so remained on the battlefield, killed or wounded. The Iroquois, breathless and wild-eyed, counted themselves fortunate to have come away with the victory.
Atotara had taken three arrows full in the chest and a tomahawk-blow to the head. He was still breathing weakly, but had no chance of surviving. A tomahawk had shattered Shononses’s right arm; he groaned in pain. Tahira snapped off the arrowhead that had pierced his thigh and bravely pulled out the rest of the shaft, grimacing with pain. Deconissora was trying to stop the bleeding after an Erie warrior’s stone tomahawk had left him with a gaping chest wound. Orinha and the others had only cuts and bruises. Without the muskets that had sowed such terror and injured so many of their enemies at the start of the battle, they would never have bested the Erie.
With a tomahawk, Tahonsiwa finished off an enemy prisoner left to die among the nine bodies piled up on the ground. Three other Erie, less seriously wounded, were taken captive. The Iroquois took the ten scalps from their latest victims and gathered the spoils left behind by their fleeing enemies: five baskets of cornmeal, bows and arrows, beautifully sculpted clubs, stone pipes, tobacco, deerskins, and goat hair necklaces. Before leaving the danger behind, they lit a huge bonfire and threw Atotara’s body onto it, an honour reserved for warriors who died in combat. Then, they took refuge deep in the woods, far from the battlefield, to tend to their wounds and keep the rest of the war party safe.
That night, for all his fatigue, Kondaron stayed awake for a long time to consult the spirits. He made repeated incantations and offerings of sacred herbs: he could sense their anger. When morning came, he did not feel as though he had managed to appease them, or learn more about their uncertain humour. But it would be foolhardy to continue the campaign now, he was sure of it. He held a meeting to share his concerns and hear what the other warriors thought.
“We have claimed three great victories,” he explained. “We have taken twenty-five scalps and three prisoners, along with a valuable haul. But I feel that the spirits are no longer with us. We have already
lost Atotara and, if we continue to fight, I fear the spirits will abandon us completely. I think it is time to go back home, as soon as the wounded are up to the journey. We will return victorious, our heads held high. Are any of you against ending our offensive?”
“Ho!” shouted Tahira right away, to show his agreement with Kondaron’s decision.
The others thought for a moment.
“I agree,” spoke Ganaha. “Several of us could have died by Atotara’s side. The battle was fierce. Until now, the spirits have been favourable to us. But you are right: if you feel they are abandoning us, we must show them consideration and return to our families to celebrate our victories with them.”
“Ho!” added Orinha simply, happy that Kondaron and Ganaha suggested what he had secretly been hoping for since the bitter battle the day before.
Shononses also agreed.
“My wounds are very painful,” he said. “I may not be able to paddle, and I certainly cannot fight either, or even hunt. We are vulnerable, Kondaron. You are making the right decision. It is time for us to return home.”
Tahonsiwa, Thadodaho, and Deconissora glanced at one another. Deconissora was suffering from his wounds, still bleeding, despite the plaster of medicinal plants the warriors had applied to his chest. He felt very weak, and feared for his life. Waiting for his wounds to heal would slow the group down, but he was eager to leave the land of the Erie. His two companions knew it and supported him.
“Ho!” they said in unison.
“Kondaron is wise,” Tahonsiwa added. “He is right. We will leave as soon as we can.”
Otasseté kept his silence for a moment, before noting that the time was right to return home.
“The summer is drawing to an end,” he said. “If we do not return home as soon as the wounded have recovered, winter might well surprise us along the way, for the journey will be long. We must prepare to leave right away. Which route do you think we should take, Kondaron?”
The chief was pleased to see his warriors agree with his suggestion and that they were happy, too, with all they had accomplished.
“Last year,” he replied, “we returned over the mountains. The going is steep, but safe. No enemy lives in these lands, but there is beaver, fish, and game in abundance. Our canoes are hidden nearby and, once we have recovered and repaired them, we will be able to head south, then east through the mountains. The whole time, we will be moving further and further away from the Erie. But if we go back the way we came, we will have to cut across the land of the Erie, or take a long detour around it. That would be dangerous. I suggest we return through the mountains. Our prisoners will help us carry the canoes and our packs. Does everyone agree?”
“Ho! Ho!” the warriors responded as one.
CHAPTER 9
THE WARRIOR’S RETURN
PREPARATIONS FOR THE JOURNEY took time: the injured recovered slowly and provisions had to be gathered with utmost caution. Once they were a few days out of enemy territory, a feeling of sheer relief swept over Orinha. Even though peace was less exciting than war, he was glad life had returned to normal. Danger was no longer routine. They were no longer in peril, and no longer had to hide all the time. There were no enemies to be tracked down or killed. Life went on peacefully enough, and that was just fine.
At first, the mountains were hard to climb, but soon the warriors and their captives reached a plateau, where stretches of river flowed between lakes that teemed with fish. It was just as well, since their fragile canoes were filled to capacity. The portages were not too frequent, not too hard, and the prisoners carried the heaviest loads. The cornmeal they took from the Erie came in handy. There was no shortage of fresh or smoked fish, or of fresh venison. Life was good and generous.
However difficult the route, Orinha had no trouble staying at the head of the group alongside Ganaha and Kondaron. How he had progressed over the five moons of their journey! He felt proud and confident in his abilities.
The wounded had now recovered. Deconissora had regained some of his aplomb and Shononses no longer grimaced with pain, even though neither of them was as yet up to paddling. Tahira limped a little, but lost none of his stamina.
The nine Iroquois and their three Erie prisoners reached another mountain range. They hauled their canoes up steep slopes, then down to the bottom of roaring waterfalls. Making their way along rocky paths, they carried their packs for long stretches at a time. The Iroquois kept close watch over their prisoners, who were tempted to try to escape, since they were being worked so hard. Shononses and Deconissora still had not forgiven the Erie who wounded them and told them in no uncertain terms that they would kill them if they attempted to get away. But Kondaron gave them all the food they wanted, to provide them with sustenance and encouragement.
The group at last reached familiar territory, where the Iroquois had imposed their law and sometimes came to hunt. Apart from members of their nation, no one came to the area, which abounded with beaver and game of every kind. After locating the spot where last year’s war party had set up camp, Kondaron suggested they stay there for a few days to stock up on beaver pelts. They would be returning to the village at the height of the trading season with the Dutch, so the suggestion was welcome.
Over the following days, while Shononses and Deconissora stood guard over the three prisoners tied up at camp, the rest of the Iroquois fanned out to hunt in groups of two and three. Orinha always teamed up with Ganaha. One day, they heard two shots one after the other, followed by a far-off cry for help. Then, they spotted smoke signals. They hurried off in the direction of the smoke and soon found Tahonsiwa.
“Thadodaho and I saw two women. They ran away as soon as they saw us,” he told them. “Thadodaho chased after them, but the forest is thick and they managed to hide. We need help finding them.”
“We’ll help you look for them,” Ganaha replied.
Tahonsiwa again roared at the top of his voice, a rallying cry to other warriors who might have been nearby. Ganaha fired another shot into the air. Minutes later, Otasseté and Tahira joined them.
“Let’s go to the spot where Thadodaho and the two women disappeared,” suggested Tahonsiwa. “We must capture them. Everyone, keep in sight. We’ll search every bush, under every tree. They can’t have gotten far.”
“Let’s find Thadodaho first. He’ll be able to point us in the right direction,” said Ganaha. “We won’t let them get away.”
They quickly found their companion, waiting for help on the shore of a small bay.
“They can’t have crossed the lake,” said Thadodaho. “I was watching carefully. The last time I saw them, they ran off that way.”
The search was swift and efficient. Ganaha and Tahonsiwa needed only a few minutes to find the two women squatting helplessly at the foot of a tall fir tree. Exhausted, famished, and resigned, they did not attempt to run away. The six Iroquois took them straight back to camp where, shy and frightened, they devoured everything put in front of them. They spoke a language similar to Algonquin, which Orinha and Otasseté had no problem making out. The two warriors were promptly put in charge of interrogating the two women.
“Which nation are you from? Where are you from?” they asked.
“The Mississauga nation,” one of them replied.
The other woman remained silent.
“Where are you from? Answer me!” Otasseté asked the other, brandishing his club.
“Don’t hit us!” the first woman answered, covering her head with both hands.
“Are you lost?” asked Orinha. “Nobody lives here. Only the Iroquois hunt here.”
“Yes,” replies the same woman. “We’re lost. Help us. Please don’t hurt us.”
Unsure of how to react, Orinha and Otasseté glanced at each other. The second woman still hadn’t said a word. Despite her haggard looks, her sunken cheeks, and the feverish look in her eyes, there was no denying her beauty. Orinha immediately took pity on her.
“They must be escaped prisoners,” K
ondaron concluded. He had been listening to the exchange and made out a few words. “The Mississaugas have been on the run ever since we defeated the Hurons. Ask them who captured them.”
“Who captured you?” Otasseté asked in Algonquin. “When did you escape? Answer me! Or your scalps will be hanging over my fireplace!”
The two women looked despairingly at each other. The woman who had not yet spoken at last opened her mouth.
“Tell them!” she said to her companion, without looking up at her captors.
“The Iroquois captured us with twenty other Mississaugas and Hurons,” the more talkative of the two said, hesitantly and fearfully. “We returned to hunt on our land, thinking the Iroquois had left for good. But they were still here. They were waiting for us. They killed many of our men in an ambush, then captured us and brought us to their lands.”
“Iroquois from which nation?” Kondaron asked Otasseté, who repeated the question in Algonquin.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “They were cruel Iroquois,” she added, lowering her eyes.
“Go on!” Otasseté orders. “When did you escape?”
Staring at the ground, the woman continued her story. Her voice was barely audible.
“There were twelve warriors. They watched the men especially. One night, Maniska and I ran away into the woods. That was five days ago.”
“And we got lost,” Maniska, the good-looking one, added. “We don’t know where we are. We are too far from our land.” Then, she broke into sobs.
“She is lucky we recaptured them,” thought Orinha. “Otherwise, they would have starved.”
Adventures of Radisson Page 13
