No Time For Witches, page 12
She felt the heat of their stares but she ignored them. She would get even with Prudence, if it were the last thing she did and she would rejoice in her triumph. That bitch better watch her back.
Ψ
Kim’s heart slammed into her throat and she almost choked. She watched as the women put a hand on each man’s shoulder and threw their torches to the ground. The men kicked dirt over the torches and the world around her grew dark. She copied the other women and placed her hand on Mingan’s shoulder. It was like holding onto warm hardwood. She was surprised and part of her brain thought that he didn’t seem that strong or even muscular. She almost screamed when Chogan put his and on her and whispered for her to slowly move backward. As her eyes grew accustom to the darkness, she realized that there was a sliver of moon showing through the canopy of trees above. She saw as the other women were guiding the men backwards as the men’s arrows were pointed outward.
She caught the sheen of eyes as each of them looked around for the thing that made the loud noise. She felt goose bumps ripple across her skin, thinking about what might be out there. Slowly, she placed one foot back and then drew the next. Mingan then did the same. She felt Chogan squeeze her shoulder gently and she stopped, squeezing Mingan. He stopped as well. She didn’t move but her eyes darted around, listening intently. She could no longer see her friends; they had faded into the forest around them. She could not hear them either and was sure that they moved as slowly as she. Chogan began to move again and she did as well. They were in heavier woods now, having moved off the game trail.
For what seemed like forever, they moved, stopped, moved and stopped. She thought it was more like ten minutes, but not having her phone or a watch, she just didn’t know. Then she felt Mingan turn to stone, the muscles beneath her hand felt the change and she froze. It was like holding marble, just that different. If she wasn’t so afraid, she would have been shocked at the difference. She opened her mouth to breathe shallowly and also trying to catch the sound of whatever had made Mingan turn from regular guy to Superman.
Then she saw it, just a sudden flash of something about thirty feet away. She let her eyes cast back and forth and then she realized she was looking at a group of men, moving slowly and silently through the woods. The hair on her body rose again in primitive warning. These were predators on the hunt. There was just the glint of moonlight off skin or eye. There was slow, deliberate movement and Kim thought that there was perhaps ten men or more and they were indigenous, not the whites. Were these men of the Wabanaki tribes? Were they the dreaded Mohawk?
She felt pressure on her shoulder as it pressed down. Chogan wanted her to go slowly down. She began to move and felt Mingan do the same. They were lowering their profile. Her thighs screamed because they were moving at a snail’s pace, going lower to the ground. She just hoped her knees wouldn’t pop. She nearly let out a sigh of relief when she was finally squatting and she put one knee on the leaf littered ground. She could still see the men intermittently as they moved farther away. She didn’t think they were headed in the direction of the village, but she wasn’t completely sure.
Would there be a battle? Would she have to fight? She had seen the other women pull their knives. She hadn’t because she had no clue how to defend herself with it and was afraid she’d end up stabbing herself or Mingan. Would the men engage them? Would they follow behind and attack? She had absolutely no knowledge of warfare and even less than that for this era. She eased her other knee to the ground and slowly sat on her heels. Chogan had removed his hand, but Kim kept her hand on Mingan. She knew she was being foolish, but she felt safer touching him, having that link. If he moved or got up, she would know immediately though she couldn’t see him.
He didn’t shake or anything, it was as though she were holding onto warm and solid granite. It didn’t move, it wasn’t afraid. Maybe that kept her calmer than she would have been? She was afraid, but not hysterically so. She knew that the men would defend her and the other women and she was pretty sure they would fight with their very lives on the line. Somehow, that was comforting. She didn’t know how old Mingan was, but she was fairly sure that guys in her own time at his age would not be as brave or as capable.
She remembered seeing all of the scalps hanging in their lodge. At first, she’d not realized what they had been. Some had beads on them, decorations. She had nearly screamed when she had fingered one and then realized what it had been. She knew in a kind of abstract way that the some of the indigenous people scalped their enemies. Not all tribes, but some did. It hadn’t occurred to her that these people did. She was fooled by their kindness that they weren’t fighters and warriors, but they were. They were very kind, sweet and very deadly warriors.
She had equated kindness for the inability to go out and kill and maim. It was her 21st century thinking again. This was their custom and though she thought it was grisly, it was just how it was. Neither good nor evil, it just was. She could not judge them for it, she was now living it. She just hoped she would never be expected to scalp someone. She wondered if the Mohawk caught and killed her, would they scalp her? Probably. She shivered at the notion.
Time ticked on and no other sounds came. She could smell the honey from the jar she still clutched to her chest. Then she felt Mingan move and begin to rise slowly. She rose as well and could hear Chogan shift.
“We go home now,” Mingan said though it was almost as soft as a puff of air and Kim wasn’t even sure she heard it. She kept her hand on his shoulder as he moved forward. She was afraid she would trip. He didn’t remove it and she thought he might be afraid she would trip on something and make noise. He moved with surprising speed and she kept her feet directly behind his. If he tripped, she would to, but she didn’t think he would.
Kim was fairly sure her friends were okay, since she heard no sounds of alarm or fighting. Their feet ate up the ground quickly and she realized that Chogan was gone. He must have gone ahead to warn the village and Mingan was making sure she made it there in one piece. It was nearly an hour of fast walking and then Kim saw the silhouette of the palisade coming into sight. She could also hear activity and saw several fires between the poles. She saw movement, the village was active. She wondered at the time, perhaps ten? When they got inside the palisade, she saw Nuttah and Sokanon and felt her shoulders relax. She then realized she was still holding onto Mingan and let go, feeling heat flood her face.
“All is well, daughter?” Nuna came up from behind. Kim turned and nodded.
“Yes, but I don’t know who they were. I think there were about ten or more, but I’m just not sure,” Kim said.
“Chogan said they were Mohawk. They were heading away from our village, but some of the men are going back out to trail them. They wish to make sure they leave our territory or die.”
Kim nodded and handed Nuna the jug of honey. Leave or die. She was shocked but then again not. She was in a time where death was so normal as to be a statement of fact, they leave or they die. No arguments, no half way or chitchat. Leave or die. The older woman smiled and squeezed Kim’s shoulder.
“There is nothing that we can do. The men will make sure that we are safe,” Nuna said and turned toward their home.
“Do you know how to fight with a knife?” Kim asked as they entered the nearly darkened hut. She not longer smelled the earth, fire, hides and body odor, it smelled of home.
“Yes, I do. You do not?” she asked, but Nuna didn’t seem surprised.
“No, I don’t. Tomorrow, can someone show me how?” Kim asked, taking off her moccasins and putting them under her bench. It felt good to be home and she was stuck by the thought. She truly felt like this was now her home and it really did feel good to be back and she felt safe within the walls. She crawled into bed and pulled the soft hide blanket up. The nights had started getting colder and by morning, it was downright chilly.
“Yes, daughter, tomorrow you shall learn,” Nuna said. Kim could barely make out her form as she moved around the dark hut. She saw the figure of Wematin come in. He said something in low tones to Nuna and she grunted in humor. He groaned when he got into his bed and soon Nuna joined him. Kim waited for a long while but Mingan didn’t come home. She thought maybe he had gone back out with the other young men to track and to trail the Mohawk.
Ψ
Philip listened to his aunt rant about the beautiful Martha. He wasn’t sure why she was so angry. From what he could ascertain, Martha had done nothing. The two boys were just that, boys. Both fourteen and of little threat to Martha’s virtue or reputation. He had seen the way his uncle looked at the girl and he thought perhaps that was why his aunt was really angry. Philip couldn’t blame his uncle; she was a rare and fair maiden indeed.
His eyes shifted to Martha, who sat at the small table, hands in lap and biddable and silent. Her face had the ugly cut and it was now turning purple and green with the bruising. He thought perhaps his aunt had done that a purpose. He’d never known his aunt to be aught but kindhearted. But over the week or better, she’d changed and become vindictive and mean spirited. Was it because her spouse’s eyes lingered over long on the lass? He looked up when his aunt snarled.
“Fine and well. So, we bend to her highness?” Prudence bleated.
“Wife, I know you have much kindness and graciousness in you. Can you not teach Martha how to be a gentle and biddable soul as are you? She either has not the guidance as a hand such as yours or she has no memories. She could gain much from your capable hand,” George said.
Philip almost laughed when Prudence’s face melted. George always knew how to bring his aunt around. At times he knew his aunt was a little high strung, but she was a good woman at heart. She had always been thus for him.
“Husband, you know me too well. Aye, you know me well. Are you willing to learn girl? To do as I bid?” Prudence asked, looking over to Martha.
“Yes mistress, I would be grateful to you,” Martha lied. She wanted to laugh; George was doing his best to defuse the situation. If her very wellbeing and health didn’t depend on these people, she would have told Prudence to shove it up her ass. Martha knew how to play the game though; she could be sweet when she wanted to. She was beginning to get the hang of their old language. She would win, she promised herself.
A week later and Martha knew that Prudence could not complain once about her actions and her comportment. Martha had put her plan in action, to woo Prudence into submission. When Prudence’s back was turned, she smiled at George. It was odd to see Stephen’s face on this man, but generations later, Stephen would look like George after twenty years, as he neared his forties. At first George simply nodded but then there was a subtle shift. His eyes began to linger longer. She only did this when Philip wasn’t around. She wanted no witnesses; she wanted each blind to the other. She was going to play these fools. Martha was the kind of person who got what she wanted. She did all she could to get what she wanted.
She had asked Prudence to show her how to cook. At first Prudence had eyed her suspiciously. Martha kept her face clear of the hate she felt inside. At least when she cooked, Martha knew that she wouldn’t have diarrhea or vomiting. And so, she took over the duties of preparing meals. Most of it was disgusting, but Martha was careful and kept plenty of boiling water to hand. When the water cooled, she carefully washed all the vegetables and fruits. She ensured that whatever meat came to her was cleaned, not rotting and cooked well.
For the most part, she cooked stews and learned to make bread, corn fritters, corn bread, corn dodgers and fried hominy. She had served some kind of sausage but it stunk so badly, she refused to eat it. As the days passed, Prudence seemed to relax her narrow eye. Martha racked her brain how she could get free of them and this time. No matter how hard she wished it, she knew she was stuck here. Maybe if she could get rid of Prudence, her life would be better? From what she could tell, George was well off. Though his home was one story, it was fairly well made, comparative to some of the others in the town. He didn’t have glass windows as several of the houses did.
Then there was Philip, she’d heard Prudence talking to that busybody, Beatrice. She was planning to matchmake and Martha shivered in revulsion. These people thought they had the right to have control over her life. As though she had no voice, no say in what happened to her. Women weren’t really allowed to talk, to speak their mind in a man’s presence, like they were too stupid to think for themselves. Once or twice, she’d said something in the assembly meeting hall, when their church was going on. The men around her had paused and they had stared at her as though she’d lost her mind for opening her mouth. She’d felt the heat of rage and embarrassment. But Martha had knowledge of these times and their futures. She was brought out of her thoughts, by a touch to her sleeve. It was Prudence and she wanted Martha to help her in the garden.
Martha smiled and nodded, acting very humble and docile. A plan began to formulate and percolate in her brain. She wondered for a split second, just a nano second actually, if she were going insane?
Prudence watched the young woman. This girl was a pot stirrer. A trouble maker and she manipulated those around her. She was doing what she was told, but something niggled at Prudence. Even silly nitwit, Beatrice, said the girl was odd. Was she wrong about the girl? She didn’t think so.
She found herself wondering how the girl had been raised and if she were always thus? Prudence wondered if she might be going insane. It was like a tug of war between herself and this girl. As though whatever Prudence told the girl, somehow, Martha either didn’t believe it or it had to be explained in the simplest terms, things that should already be known. It was the oddest thing. Perhaps if Martha were to marry Philip, he would have control over the girl? It was a man’s duty to guide a woman.
She wondered if her nephew would be up to the task. She’d seen how he mooned over the girl. Would she rule him or he her? Prudence only knew that it was an uphill battle with the girl and it was wearing her nerves thin.
Ψ
Mingan and twenty men were spread out through the dense forest. All were painted for war, the Mohawk had dared to enter their territory and it wasn’t a hunting expedition, at least not for the four-legged beasts. Why else travel at night and in such stealth? No, they are looking for a fight, women and property, he thought grimly. They would have taken more warriors, but the elders advised that twenty men could easily defeat whatever the Mohawks had.
Their biggest concern was that there was a larger party out there and that party might be heading to the village. It was normally late in the season for raids, but most people thought like that, everyone was getting ready for the hungry times, the freezing times. If he were a Mohawk, that would be when he would strike, when most of the food had been gathered, when people are tired from hard work. He would strike when it was not expected. Not only that, the Mohawk could have others with them, to take the captives back to the north. They could swarm a village, take what they want and be gone within hours.
Machk and Hassun were far to his left and Chogan and others were to his right. He knew there were four or five behind and more in front. They had picked up the trail several hours ago, it is slow going at night and all knew that the Mohawk would go slowly in strange territory. They had located their enemy an hour ago and now followed at a distance. At dawn, they would strike. Mingan felt a thrill go through his body. He knew the Mohawk were fierce. His hand went unconsciously to his belt, where a hatchet hung and a long knife.
He and his friends had spent countless hours practicing with weapons and strategies since he was able to hold a bow. This was his life, his whole reason for being. He was raised to fight and protect his village and his family. His mind strayed to Kimi. He remembered the warmth of her hand on his shoulder earlier in the night. He’d felt the slight tremor of it and he knew she was afraid. Women were, that was how they were made. She was stealth and didn’t have to be told what to do and he liked that about her. She didn’t cry or whimper. Some women did that and he could tell that she was strong in her heart. He liked that as well.
He hoped that if there were a larger force, that it didn’t head to his village. It was a large village and so could repel invaders. There would be at least fifty men spread out around the village, deep in the woods. The rest of the men and women would defend the village itself. His mother was a very good fighter and he remembered in his youth, when they had been caught away from the village, by a group of Onondoga, people of the hills. His mother and several other women had been upstream, looking for the wild berries that grew in abundance. A group of four men had set upon them, wishing to take the young women. His mother had sent up the alarm and sent him to tell the village. He was too young to fight. He remembered his legs shaking violently as he ran.
Mingan remembered looking over his shoulder as his mother brought her ax down on a warrior’s head. He had even heard the crack of bone over the noise of the water. He’d been proud of his mother. The other women had fought as well and sadly, one young woman had died in that skirmish. It was how life went, long periods of quiet and peace, then, someone would enter their territory. He heard the elders talk of the time before the wasi’chu invaded their territories. It was a constant source of strife and rancor among the Wabanaki people. Many of the wasi’chu did not venture deeper into the Wabanaki territory, but they did go up and down the coast, like fleas on a dog.
Mingan looked to the sky and could see the subtle shift. Dawn was approaching and he looked around the dense forest. Subtle shifts in light were taking place and then he heard the first query from the slumbering birds. At first, it was a single note, then more tentative calls. Like a living telegraph, the men around him began to slow and take up positions. All knew that there would be stragglers, Mohawks keeping an eye on their flanks. It would not do to blunder into one of them. The men ahead would take care of them. They would spread out and encircle their foe and draw in and trap them, like fish in a net. Each man knew their part. This wasn’t a large raiding party and again, Mingan wondered how many other raiding parties there were and if a large one was heading toward his home?
