Lord of the Wilderness

by Elizabeth St. Michel

  Captain Snapes lifted his eyes from the fire and let them pass slowly over the ten warriors, and then come to rest on their two leaders. Snapes launched into a long speech, his hand gesturing upon the attending crowd.

  “What is he saying?” Juliet asked. Captain Snapes and Baron Bearsted were cut of the same cloth and she wished them to perdition. For as long as she breathed, she would do everything in her power to make sure they were both brought to justice.

  “I’m versed in most of the language but not all so bear with me. He wants to remind Onontio and his faithful Mohawks of the friendship of the King and his Loyalist brethren. Onontio has asked him how many prisoners he wants from the raids of other settlements that will arrive shortly.”

  “Not many,” Snapes shrugged. His close-spaced eyes darted over Juliet and she drew back into Father Devereux. He’d been aware of her presence the whole time.

  “How many scalps?” The leader with the bear-tooth necklace asked, and they joined him in laughter.

  “As many as you can take without losing your own. Not that you have much to lose, Red Jacket,” Snapes pointed to the bald Indian. The men laughed again.

  “These prisoners,” Onontio went on, “you can have them except the red-haired woman. There is a power round her. She will bear me sons.”

  Snapes glanced to Juliet. “I know her quite well.”

  Onontio drew his finger along the bright red scar she’d cut on his cheek and spat. “Like a dog, she needs to learn obedience.”

  “Be careful she doesn’t take your balls,” Snapes said and they all hooted.

  Red Jacket pounded a fist on his chest. “The light-haired woman will be my wife’s slave.”

  Juliet inhaled with the Jesuit’s rapid translations.

  “What will your wife say when you take the light-haired woman to bed?” Snapes snickered. The men laughed but Red Jacket did not find it amusing.

  Snapes beat his chest. “General Carlton has late intelligence Fort Stanich is no real obstacle. There are poor picketed defense works with no more than sixty men. Maybe he is right. Maybe not. Scout it out and see what you think. Capture some of the garrison and bring them to me. They’ll tell us what we need to know.” Snapes looked at every one of them. “When the moon passes full many times, Colonel Butler from Fort Niagara will gather forces for raids south of the Mohawk Valley. Many scalps, prisoners and plunder are assured.”

  Onontio stood and clasped hands with the British officer. “Captain Snapes, you be witness to my wedding.”

  Snapes nodded at the War Chief’s hospitality. “It is an honor. But I must beg leave and do reconnaissance for our Great White Father.”

  Onontio spoke loudly for the assembled braves, his furious speech climbing to a crescendo. Clenching his fists to the heavens, he said, “Next full moon we will strike out. Maybe capture the fort. We will sharpen our hatchets and bring back many scalps.”

  When he finished, the Indians jumped from the ground and roared their approval.

  Snapes nodded with the War Chief’s declaration. “Ten pounds per scalp. You will be a wealthy man before this war ends, Onontio.”

  Snapes swaggered to where Juliet sat with the priest. “You are not so brave now.”

  Juliet glared at him. “You ordered the massacre against the Hayes’ household.”

  “Yes, I did. Horace had taken land from me and I paid my debt. Such are the spoils of war. Enjoy your life as Onontio’s wife.” With an Indian, he took to a canoe and disappeared down the river.

  Chapter Nine

  Joshua paddled hard, his first thoughts—to get to Juliet. Two Eagles matched his grueling pace across the mountains, and then stealing a canoe, they made their way to Onontio’s Mohawk home where, with certainty, the War Chief would return and declare his greatness, displaying his scalps and parading his captives.

  Damn the orders from Albany that took him from the Hayes’ farm. The charred ruins gone cold for a week. He shook his head, still unable to get the gruesome massacre out of his mind. He had braced himself for his worst fears, turning the scalped and mutilated corpses over, thankful Juliet and Mary were not among them.

  Two Eagles had been adamant it was the work of Onontio, and then followed the tracks of warriors, leading to the capture of the women. It was his best hope the tracks were Mary and Juliet’s and they complied with the War Chief, their deaths fated if they dared to complain or slow the war party’s progress.

  They pulled up the canoe against the sandy bank on the village of Tionnontigo. Children squealed a series of whoops to announce their arrival. Out from the lodges, men, women and children poured. The Indians fawned and eager women loitered with flirtatious smiles, none of which Joshua cared the least bit about.

  Parting the crowd was Ojistah, the medicine woman and Two Eagles’ aunt. “Too long you have been gone, my sons.” There was censure in her tone.

  Joshua scanned the village. Ojistah threaded her arm through Joshua’s, passing several longhouses, the council house and to the center of the village. His heart pounded.

  His gaze fell on Juliet and a black crow Jesuit sitting beside her. She was beaten, bruised and her clothes were torn, and her hair spilled in wild abandon down to her hips. His heart pounded.

  She was alive.

  Their gazes locked. Her dreadful misery was mirrored in her face, but it was the entreaty in her tear-stained eyes that came as sure as if she’d shouted the words.

  You’ve come to save me!

  Despite the indignities he was sure she had endured, she held her head high. She carried herself like a queen and, for that, he was proud.

  He clenched his hands into fists. The dark circles beneath her eyes, pale skin and loss of weight showed her ill-use where she’d likely been pushed beyond endurance on their travels through the forests. Bred in his nature was the protection of women. He cursed Onontio and his band. They would pay for their abuse of Juliet.

  He strode to her. Ojistah jerked him back.

  “I know who you have come for. Be patient, my son.”

  But Joshua didn’t hear her. He ignored the fact he was a guest in the village, bound by custom not to intervene. He ignored everything except the fact that Juliet needed his help and he’d come for her.

  He shook off the medicine woman’s hand and started for Juliet. Two Eagles stepped in front of him. “If you want to save her, stay where you are and let my aunt scheme. This is not my village where I could allow you to go to her. Juliet is a captive and will be difficult if not impossible to free. Onontio has been ordered to appear along with the chief.”

  Joshua swore, forcing himself to stay rooted and let the matter play out. Helpless. Rage burned in his belly.

  Onontio, a mountain of a warrior, his hideous face painted black and red, wormed his way through the crowd. “What do you want, Ojistah?”

  “A problem has occurred. You have taken our brother, Joshua’s woman.”

  Onontio pounded his chest with his fist. “She is my captive. She will not be taken from me.”

  The chief intervened. “Joshua is our brother in blood and to be respected, but Onontio is our War Chief and through great heroism and trial has returned with his prize. He will not be cheated of his conquest.”

  Ojistah pulled herself up to full height, her grandson next to her. “Joshua is a brave warrior. His magic is far more powerful than Onontio and cannot be contested.” She raised the giant bear tooth suspended from Morning Sun’s neck to remind them of the bear with evil orenda Joshua had destroyed.

  The villagers murmured, pointing at the venerated amulet.

  With the unblinking gaze of a hawk, Ojistah cast her gaze over the crowd. “He has done far more to protect the village than—”

  “No!” Onontio spat. “I will not let this dog of a white man usurp what is mine.”

  The chief nodded his head, considering the medicine woman’s words. “There is much force in what you say, Ojistah. The only way to determine who gets the woman is for Joshua to r
un the gauntlet. If he survives, he gets the woman.”

  Before the echoes of warriors’ shouts, Joshua was pressed to the precipice of two lines. On their guard, warriors eyed him and shuffled close, yet Ojistah’s play on their superstition of his magic made them wary. Because of their fear of his suggested supernatural power, he sincerely hoped he’d have the upper hand.

  Still, there were hardened warriors out to make a name for themselves. He inspected the motley group, restless, angry, armed with clubs, tomahawks, sticks, any sort of weapon they could find. Like a pack of curs, they were ready to hunt and tear apart their prey. One warrior with a red jacket possessed a particularly monstrous war club made from the burl of a tree and might crack a man’s skull like a scythe through wheat. Joshua flexed his arms. He had no intentions of falling under any of the weapons.

  “Run fast, with your head down,” said Two Eagles.

  Joshua danced in place on the ground to loosen up. “Remember when I rescued you from ten armed trappers?”

  “There were twenty.” Two Eagles smiled.

  “Ten ran away. They didn’t count. I don’t think these seasoned warriors will run.”

  “Did you see the fresh bruise on Juliet’s face?” asked Two Eagles.

  His blood raged through his veins. Joshua knew what his friend was doing. He faced the ghastly collection of painted faces. They might have scared most men but to Joshua, they were laughable. The War Chief waited at the end of the gauntlet with a particularly nasty war club. The warrior stood two hands taller and broader than Joshua. It’d be like cutting down an oak tree.

  Get ready, Onontio. I’m coming for you.

  It was a question of force and speed. Joshua was bigger than ninety percent of them and faster, too. And like a roaring wind he came, breaking between the lines of stick-wielding Indians with the fleetness of a hunted animal.

  The warriors shrieked and screamed. They pelted him on all sides with cruel cuts and blows. With great force, he used his knees, heels and elbows adroitly, simultaneously swinging his head with great force, that his opponents were knocked violently on both sides. He kept his head down, powerful strikes descended on him. He swerved into the line using his body to unbalance them and at the same time deliver cross punches.

  He got his right hand to the back of a warrior’s neck and helped him along with a vicious back hand that shoved him into the next five warriors, the inertia causing them to collapse like a row of dominoes.

  Before the opposite line knew what happened, he elbowed one in the throat, sending him sprawling in the dust. A tattooed warrior came at him. Joshua kneed him in the groin and he went down, too. A short bow-legged warrior to his right swung his club in a mighty arc. The swing, too high, took too long. Joshua gave him a right hook to the jaw. Bow-Legs lifted two feet off the ground, teeth went flying and the warrior hit face first in the dust.

  He jabbed another in the throat because jabbing was quicker and afterward, breathing became an impossibility. He swung out his leg, tripping several of his competitors, and then kicked them to make sure they stayed there. Some braver warriors closed in. These warriors were at a disadvantage for they had no idea of his pugilist skills as well as his impulse for brawling.

  The warrior with the red jacket came at him, his club a great curve which would crush his skull. Like a boxer, his lithe dancing helped him dodge the blow and with a powerful upper cut, knocked Red Jacket out cold.

  A tomahawk grazed his ear, he twisted his head, kicked his assailant in the stomach with enough power to cause him to fly backward. The tomahawk wheeled back on his opponent and sliced off part of his ear.

  He came to the end of the line and laughed. Warriors drew near and shouted angrily. They had been cheated of their prize. Silence pulsed in the air.

  Joshua placed his hands on his knees, breathing, keeping an eye on Onontio. The War Chief drew himself up, his eyes blazing, a knife palmed between his hands. He was ugly, the fresh scar slashed down his sagging cheek made him uglier.

  Joshua stumbled forward, glanced over at Juliet, sitting majestic and beautiful. He saw how the tether whipsawed against her tender flesh. The agony she must be enduring choked him and fueled the violent fury within him. “Onontio, you may quit now, saving yourself a humiliation and—your life.”

  Onontio saw where his regard lay. “My cock will be rammed into the red-haired witch many nights.”

  Cold fire burned in Joshua. He held himself in firm check until his rage cooled.

  Cheered by a chorus of Indian shrieks, Onontio said, “Beg for mercy like the dog you are. I promise a slow death.”

  They strutted a bizarre dance like two hell-roosters circling each other. Onontio was twice his size; his arms, like an ape, a longer reach. The knife flashed in his hand. Of course, the War Chief’s skill with a knife was as brutal as it was legendary. He would not play fair. Unarmed, Joshua crouched.

  Onontio advanced with a slash to the right. His movement came high and Joshua jumped to the side. Without a weapon, the odds were not good leaving him useless to Juliet.

  Onontio rushed him, flicked at Joshua’s shoulder amidst the cheers of their audience. “Your death awaits you. You would be wise to rest content with it. But fight if you like. My friends are amused.”

  A knife tipped into the earth at Joshua’s feet. He glanced to Two Eagles, his benefactor. Joshua’s hand closed over the hilt and, in an instant, Onontio ran his knife down Joshua’s thigh. Joshua leapt to the side, pain rocketed through him. He numbed the ache in his mind, too busy with survival. Blood poured from his wound.

  He pivoted as Onontio circled him, deadly intent glittered in his black eyes. The Indians hooted, tossing their comments; the fight made for their entertainment.

  “You seek to fight with me? With your injury, you are like the coyote who sings while he is castrated. You will lose,” said Onontio.

  Joshua’s leg tired from loss of blood. Fatigue set in from their frantic journey to Tionnontigo. He strained to stave off the soreness from running the gauntlet, aching in every part of his body. How much longer could he last? He had to end this fight soon.

  He smiled, his eyes as hard as granite. “I promise you will learn defeat and crawl into a cave to suck at the tit of an old woman.”

  Shivers of laughter ran through the observers.

  The jibe riled Onontio. His teeth bared, the Mohawk attacked then drew back with a savage thrust. With a swift, sudden unexpected counter, Joshua drove Onontio back, slicing him on the wrist.

  The Indian lunged to take Joshua’s bicep. With a poise and calm born of instinct, he ducked but not quite enough. The knife glanced off his forehead and blood poured down. It burned like hell.

  Joshua went down, splayed in the dirt. Someone had tripped him. Onontio advanced. Joshua crouched. At the last possible moment, he thrust himself off the ground, his speed and strength surprising Onontio. With a potent upper cut, he hit the War Chief in the triangle of flesh, dead-on beneath the ribs. Stunned, the giant Mohawk could not get his breath.

  With the speed of a cobra, Joshua feinted with his right hand, and with a left hook powerful enough to disembowel a bull, he smashed his fist into Onontio’s face, knocking him out cold. Disgusted, he stepped over Onontio’s lifeless form and didn’t look back. Perhaps he should have killed the War Chief. It would be tiresome to have to fight him all over again.

  A nose-ringed brave and his companions gathered around Joshua, menacing in their numbers. He and Two Eagles might do damage on a number of them.

  Ojistah shoved through the crowd and stood in front of Joshua.

  “You will not touch him. He has shown great bravery surviving the gauntlet. Onontio shamed our people and dared to show his cowardice to take it further, and now he lays punished. Joshua has won the day and we will respect his victory.”

  Joshua’s strength flowed away from him like water down a river as he gazed at Juliet. He had saved her from Onontio.

  Juliet didn’t realize she was wringing F
ather Isaac’s good arm until all eyes turned to her. “What did the old woman say? What will they do with my friend, Joshua?”

  “You have made Joshua’s acquaintance?” the priest said surprised. “I have met him during his visits to the village. In answer to your question, I could not hear everything over the crowd’s shouting, but from what I have gleaned, Joshua is under the protection of Ojistah and will be in good hands with her healing skills,” Father Devereux said.

  Unable to understand why Joshua had to run the violent gauntlet, she scanned the crowd, screaming inside for everyone to leave so she might get a glimpse of him. At last the horde thinned. Two Eagles slung Joshua’s arm over his shoulder, and her heart stopped at the amount of blood pouring from his wounds. She yanked at her bond. “Free me to help him.”

  A shadow covered her, and she jerked her head up. Ojistah’s dark eyes grew darker, unfocussed and distant, as she appeared to slip away, deep into a mysterious domain, searching and discerning.

  Many women swarmed behind the old woman. Was Juliet to be beaten again? Would she have to endure the gauntlet? Nothing made sense in this world turned upside down.

  Ojistah’s eyes cleared, and placing a leathery palm beneath Juliet’s chin, she smiled. An unfathomable lightness emanated from the medicine woman, swirling, brushing against Juliet and catching her in its net. She widened her eyes, basking in the medicine woman’s approval. She could not explain the thin tenuous ribbon binding them, comforting as a hug from Moira.

  Ojistah handed a knife to the priest, and then spoke rapidly in her tongue to the women.

  Father Devereux cut Juliet’s bonds free. “Ojistah has ordered these women to take you to the river. Afterward, you will be returned to her lodge.”

  “Why to the river? Take me to Joshua.”