The Way Lies North

by Jean Rae Baxter

  The fire was burning low. Charlotte thought about adding more wood, but she did not want to leave Nick’s side.

  He continued, “What puzzles me is how you got word to Axe Carrier.”

  “I wrote him a letter.”

  Nick laughed. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “It was, as a matter of fact. Moses Cobman, the runaway boy I told you about, belongs to that Oneida band. He acted as interpreter when their elders questioned me. They looked mighty pleased to learn that Axe Carrier was Papa’s friend. When I had my letter written, they sent a runner to take it to Axe Carrier.”

  “When you told me about that boy, I thought that the Oneidas would offer him in exchange for peace.”

  “That nearly happened. Some of the elders were prepared to hand him over, even though he had been adopted. He didn’t want to leave the band, so he’s as happy as I am with the way things turned out.”

  He tightened his arm around her. “There’s something else I want to say. When Commander Fraser learned that I was at the fort, he had an express message he wanted me to take to headquarters in Montreal.”

  Several seconds passed. Charlotte glanced up. “Yes?”

  “While I was there …” He hesitated again. “I thought I might as well buy a wedding ring. You see, darling, you and I are going to be married before either of us goes anywhere again.”

  Chapter twenty-four

  “Now? Get married now?” Papa turned to Nick. “When did you say you have to leave again?”

  “In one week.”

  Papa shook his head. “That’s no way to start a marriage, to go away in one week and leave your wife waiting in a tent.”

  “I’ll be waiting in a tent anyway,” Charlotte said. “What difference will it make whether we’re married or not?”

  Before Papa had a chance to answer, Nick broke in. “Sir, all we can be sure of is one week. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know how long the war will go on. Suppose it lasts five more years. Would you expect us to wait that long?”

  Papa cleared his throat. “I waited seven years for Charlotte’s mother, and it’s more than I would wish on anyone. You have my blessing. You must ask Commander Fraser if he’ll perform the service.”

  “I already have,” said Nick. “He’ll do it tomorrow.”

  One day to prepare for a wedding. What should she wear? Her fringed poncho and leather skirt were new, but not right for a wedding.

  The choice really came down to the two gowns she had worn on the trek from the Mohawk Valley nearly two years ago. The one gown was grey, the other blue and white. Both were the worse for wear. But the grey gown had the remains of lace at the throat. So that’s the one she would wear, and with it, Mama’s cameo brooch.

  A pity that there could be no wedding breakfast. All that she had to share with others was her own happiness, but that she had in abundance. She and Nick and Drooping Flower also planned a small surprise, which no one else knew about.

  In the morning, Louisa Vrooman, who had begged to serve as Charlotte’s lady’s maid, arrived at the Hoopers’ tent with a silver-mounted mirror in her hand.

  “Where did you get that?” Charlotte asked.

  “I borrowed it from the Sergeant Major’s wife.”

  Louisa had fine ideas for arranging Charlotte’s hair. “I’ll put curls about your face, then smooth your tress into a roll at the nape of your neck. That’s a pretty fashion for a bride.”

  “Please,” Charlotte said, “just braid my hair. Two simple braids is all I want.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I mean it.”

  “Well, it’s your wedding.” Louisa sounded disappointed but did as Charlotte asked. As soon as the two long, glossy braids lay upon Charlotte’s shoulders, Louisa had a new idea. “Suppose we wind the braids around your head the way Dutch girls do.”

  “So I’ll look like a Dutch girl?” Charlotte considered the idea. It would please Nick. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

  “Then I’ll weave in some sprigs of flowers, and you’ll look like the Queen of the May.”

  “A Queen of the May in July?” Charlotte smiled. “It sounds lovely.”

  When Louisa finished and held up the looking glass, Charlotte saw in it a young lady whom she scarcely recognized.

  “Well?” said Louisa. “Do you like what you see?”

  Charlotte turned her head from side to side, examining from various angles the molding of her cheekbones, the curve of her lips, the line of her throat and shoulders, and the crown of hair that shone like jet sprigged with blue lobelias and red cardinal flowers. Where was the country girl with round cheeks and flyaway curls?

  “I am greatly changed,” Charlotte murmured. Prettier, but it wasn’t just that. In her brown eyes she saw maturity. That’s me, she thought: Charlotte Hooper, who in two hours will be Mrs. Nicholas Schyler. The idea overwhelmed her. In two hours she would be a wife.

  She handed the looking glass back to Louisa. “Thank you.”

  “Then let’s be off,” said Louisa as she set down the looking glass. “Your father is outside the tent ready to walk with you to the blockhouse. We must not keep the Commander waiting.”

  Louisa kissed Charlotte on both cheeks and started to sniffle. “Sorry,” she said. “Weddings always make me cry.”

  It was a beautiful day for a wedding, sunny after a night of scattered showers. Holding her skirt out of the mud, Charlotte walked through the Loyalist camp with Louisa on one side and Papa on the other. Papa had brushed his clothes and powdered his hair, which added a nice touch of formality.

  As they approached the blockhouse, they received a few curious stares, but not many. Although it was difficult to believe, for most people this was an ordinary day.

  When the blockhouse door opened, however, the sight that greeted Charlotte was far from ordinary. The big, square room was crowded with people, not lined up waiting for rations but standing in a half circle, applauding as she entered on her father’s arm.

  There was Mrs. Cobman with Hope at her side, one hand clutching her mother’s skirt and the thumb of the other thrust into her mouth. The two sisters, Mrs. Weegar and Mrs. Vankleek, stood surrounded by their mingled brood. Beside them were Mrs. Platto and her children, with Polly restraining a small, wriggling brother by his shirt collar. Sergeant Major Clark was at the commissary counter, but on the near side for a change. Beside him stood his wife Fidelia, holding their shawl-wrapped baby in her arms. Next, standing together, were Axe Carrier, Okwaho, and Drooping Flower, wearing not their everyday leather clothes, but the finest doeskin garments, beaded and deeply fringed. Drooping Flower held a small bunch of buttercups mixed with wild asters.

  The blockhouse did not in the least resemble a church. No altar. No cross. No choir gallery. But the Hooper family Bible sat on the commissary counter, and in front of the counter stood Commander Alexander Fraser with the Book of Common Prayer in his hands.

  What a fine figure he cut, with his red jacket, gold braid and white wig! But no one was more gallant than Nick, arrayed in a ruffled shirt and blue velvet trousers with silver buckles at the knee. (Where had he managed to borrow those?)

  The Commander cleared his throat: “Dearly beloved we are gathered here together in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony …”

  Charlotte heard Louisa sniffling, but that did not distract her. Charlotte had been to other weddings, had listened to these words before. But this was her own wedding, and they held her spellbound.

  The caution came next. Charlotte knew no reason why anyone would leap up to stop her from marrying Nick, but she held her breath while the Commander read, “If any man can shew just cause, why they may not be lawfully joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.”

  When nobody did, she let out a faint sigh of relief, and the Commander read on: “Nicholas, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live
together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony. Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Nick’s answer was prompt and firm, “I will.”

  Now it was Charlotte’s turn. Would she have this man to her wedded husband? Would she obey and serve him, love honour and keep him? At “obey” she winced, knowing herself Nick’s equal in heart and mind. But he would not ask that of her. For them there would be no “give orders” or “obey,” but rather a consensus of loving minds. In a voice as firm as Nick’s she made her promise, “I will.”

  When Nick placed the simple gold band upon her finger, his eyes met hers, and she saw that he, like her, was close to tears. From this day forth, she thought, Nick is my wedded husband, and I am his wedded wife.

  Then the Commander joined their hands and addressed the crowd:

  “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

  All in a blur Nick and Charlotte signed their names in the register, then Louisa and Sergeant Major Clark signed as witnesses.

  “Do you feel married?” Nick asked.

  “Not quite.”

  He gave her a wink and, as they turned to face the crowd, raised his hand to make sure of everyone’s attention. “There’s one thing left to do,” he said, and he beckoned to Drooping Flower.

  With a smile, the Mohawk girl stepped forward and put her bunch of wild flowers into Nick’s hands. Seeing that smile, Charlotte felt sure that Drooping Flower was remembering her own wedding council and the words spoken there. Simple words: “Be true and kind.”

  With a silent promise to follow those words, Charlotte pulled the pins from her hair so that the crown of braids tumbled down, and she threw her two braids over Nick’s shoulders. Then he gave her the flowers. Most people looked puzzled, but everybody cheered.

  Axe Carrier said to Charlotte. “Truly you are a woman of two worlds.”

  “Do you feel married now?” Nick asked with a smile.

  She kissed him, “I believe I do.”

  Now Papa placed his hand upon the Hoopers’ family Bible, which sat on the commissary counter. He opened it to the page that bore the heading:

  FAMILY REGISTER

  At the top of the page in spidery letters were the names of Daniel Hooper and Margaret Ann Henderson, married in 1694. Then came the names of all their children with the dates when they were born and when they had died. The marriage of Papa’s parents was recorded, and Papa’s own birth: Henry John Hooper, born 1721. Then came the births of his brothers and sisters, and for some the dates when they had died. The marriage of Henry John Hooper to Martha Ruth Riley was in the record: June 1753, followed by the births of James, Charles, Isaac and Charlotte. The last entries were all deaths. James, Charles and Isaac in October 1777. Martha in December 1778.

  Charlotte, standing with Papa’s hands on her shoulders, silently read all the names. These people were her family — all those people who had come before her, who had been born, been married, raised children of their own, and died.

  “What do those marks on paper mean?” asked Okwaho.

  “Those are names,” Axe Carrier said. “This is the way white people carry the past into the future, so that the power of names is not lost.”

  Papa opened a jar of writing fluid and picked up the quill from its holder on the commissary counter. Carefully he made a new entry:

  Charlotte Jane Hooper and

  Nicholas John Schyler married July 25, 1779.

  He sprinkled sand to dry the writing fluid, and in a moment blew it away.

  Charlotte turned the page, and then another page, and another.

  “Look at how many pages are still blank,” she said. “It will take a hundred years to fill them all.”

  She felt Nick’s arm around her waist, pulling her towards him.

  “At least a hundred years,” said Nick. “We’d better get started.”

  Charlotte looked around. About her were friendly faces: some coppery brown and some white, some smiling and some solemn. They all parted to make way for the newly-weds as they walked towards the door.

  When Charlotte stepped outside, she felt the sunshine on her face. Even the sky smiled upon her wedding day. Beyond the palisade lay green forests and great lakes.

  She tucked her arm in Nick’s and realized suddenly that she was home.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jean Rae Baxter grew up in Hamilton, but “down home” was the region of Essex and Kent Counties on the shores of Lake Erie where her ancestors had settled, some following the American Revolution and some a century earlier, in the days of New France. There were many family stories to awaken her interest in Canada’s past, and frequently the lives of settlers were interwoven with those of many different First Nation peoples. Following university, she worked in radio before becoming a teacher. She has written a variety of short stories. The Way Lies North is her first novel. For many years she lived in Eastern Ontario, but has now returned to Hamilton, where she devotes herself to writing and to a charming Scottish terrier named Robbie.