No Time For Witches, page 13
Each step place in front of the other was done carefully. There could be no noise and the leaves of the broadleaf trees had begun to turn their radiant colors. In a few weeks, it would have been more difficult to track the Mohawk, because the leaves on the ground would have given them away. He sniffed the air around him, eyes searching for any movement. Chogan was the best with the bow, he was the best with the knife and ax. He slipped both and held in each hand. The light was shifting more and he could clearly see his friends in the forest. A smile spread over his features and he anticipated the fight to come. It wasn’t very often but when they did fight, all men were happy and looked forward to it. They would later tell their stories in celebration.
He froze when he heard a cough ahead, one of the Mohawks. Now, he moved with deadly purpose and intent, if he could get close enough, he would kill the man before he had a chance to call out a warning. The best and quickest way would be to plant his ax in the man’s skull. Cutting deep across the throat was good, but you need your hand clamped over the mouth, just in case of a scream or moan. When the ax bit deep into the skull, the man was dead nearly instantaneously. Mingan saw his man ahead of him and he felt the adrenaline shoot into his veins. His heartbeat picked up in a happy tempo as he moved swiftly forward. He was mindful of his step; he didn’t want to give the game away too soon.
He caught movement in his peripheral vision, it was Hassun and Mingan wanted to laugh. He would reach the Mohawk before Hassun and Hassun knew it. He was within six feet of the man before the Mohawk registered anything. The man began to turn his head to look behind as Mingan swung his ax in a smooth arc and planted the blade deep into the man’s skull. There was a soft chunk sound as the blade of the ax bit in deep into the skull, the sound of metal meeting hard bone. He let go of the weapon as the man fell boneless to the forest floor. There was a curious look still on the dead man’s face as his body rolled over, his body twitching in its death throes. He had no idea that he’d been killed. There was a scream of alarm ahead and Mingan reached for his weapon. Placing his foot on the dead man’s shoulder, he wrenched the weapon free, causing a wet sucking and cracking sound. He slung the bone and brain free of the blade.
He began to run, looking for his next target. Now he didn’t have to be quiet and he began to shriek his war cry, oscillating and high pitched. He felt invincible and joyous and his feet fairly flew over the ground. He could hear his friends shrieking as well and laughter bubbled up in his chest. This was the most fun he’d had in a long time. He spotted a man and turned toward him but an arrow sank deep into the man’s torso. Then another arrow punctured his throat. Mingan veered away, looking for more. He could hear conflict around him, grunts and shrieks. His heart was thrumming hard in his chest and he saw more and more of his friends but none of the enemy. It seemed as though all of the Mohawks had been killed.
He slowed down and took his time now. There could be one or two hiding, though he doubted it. When it came to a fight, only the women hid, or at least most of the women. The smile never left his face as he looked around him. He wasn’t sure what made him turn, but something primitive warned him and he turned quickly, going to a knee. There was a man in the crotch of a tree and he flung himself onto Mingan. The ax he’d been carrying flew out of his hand but he kept his knife. The Mohawk’s arm was raised and was coming down on him with a long blade. Mingan’s free hand shot out and caught the man’s wrist. At the same time, he brought his knife hand up and shoved his blade up under the Mohawk’s jaw and into the hard upper palate of the man’s mouth and on into his brain. He heard as the blade slid along the bone and felt the vibration of the knife pushing through tissue and bone.
The man jerked and then Mingan detected the scent of urine as the man’s bladder voided. There was very little blood until he pulled his blade free. He shoved the dead man off of him and got up. Walking over, he picked up his ax and then looked down at the dead man. On the man’s belt was a beautiful tomahawk. It had an ornately carved handle with a hatchet front and pike back. Double sided lethality and he pulled it. It was very long and could only be used in face-to-face combat. It extended the warrior’s reach. The Mohawk would have been better coming at him face to face. Launching himself from the tree had been a good idea, but Mingan had turned and the man had lost the element of surprise. He was lucky that he’d sensed something just before the man jumped.
It could have gone the other way, but it didn’t. He bent and took the man’s knife. It was a nice one and he could always use a good knife. His mother had mentioned that she wanted him to train Kimi when he got back. He smiled, the Mohawk’s knife was too big for Kimi’s small hands, but he thought he would like training her. The sound of battled was now gone and he saw his friends gathering up weapons and anything useful. He turned the dead man over and saw a small pouch hanging from his side. He tugged at it and opened the small leather pouch. Inside was aromatic tobacco and other dried leaves. It was a nice blend. He tucked the pouch into his waistband. He would give it to his father. Some of the items taken would be traded with friends and family. He sighed happily. It had been a good day and it had been a good fight.
Squatting, he took his knife and lifted the dead man’s hair with one hand as he sawed carefully. He cut an oval of the man’s scalp and pulled. Skin and connective tissue held for a moment and then he jerked the scalp free. When they camped for the night, he would dry the scalp.
He saw Hassun with a long gash down his chest, but the man had a wide smile on his face. He grinned, Hassun knew that Nuttah would fuss over him and all men liked it when the women fussed over them. That was the nature of women. He wondered if Kimi would fuss over him if he were to be injured? He liked the idea of her doing so. He looked again at Hassun and his injury. It would be a fond reminder of this day’s fun.
On their way back, he would search the body of the first man he killed and take his scalp. He saw Chogan and Machk as well, each walking easily and relaxed, carrying their prizes. Without a word, the men turned toward home. On their way, they would keep an eye out for carpenter ants. Finding them, they would apply the heads of the ants to the wounds. When the ant pinched or closed its mandibles, it would help to close up a wound.
If wounds were big, the ants were of little help. However, most of the men had fairly shallow wounds. The ants were also a good snack on the run. Mingan liked them roasted and when they camped tonight, he would try and find a tree that was infested with them. He would cut out a chunk of the wood and set it on the fire. His stomach growled, now that the fighting was over, he was hungry. He thought about the ants and toasting them. They were nice and crunchy. He looked to Hassun and thought he could do with quite a few ants.
The bleeding had stopped on his friend and the man moved easily through the woods. Mingan noted that Hassun had one scalp lock hanging from his belt. Chogan didn’t have one and looked slightly put off. He’d been lucky, he had two. He snorted with humor, sometimes you got the bear, sometimes the bear got you. He knew the next fight Chogan went into, he’d be going after scalps. He thought once more about the possibility of a larger group of Mohawks in the area. Chogan might get his wish.
SEVEN
Nuna led the way into the menstruation hut, bending low at the opening. Kim followed behind; it was several hours before dawn. She had woken in the night with cramps. She knew that she would spend roughly the next five to seven days in the hut. Kim could make out humps in the dark, there was a low fire that she was told would burn continuously. The hut smelled of herbs. She was led to an area that had furs piled up.
“Strip down,” Nuna whispered. Kim began to undress. The hut would become nearly oppressive during the day with the sun beating down on it. Kim was to wear a leather thong which was used to hold absorbent material, such as moss and cattail fluff. When dawn came, she would bathe with herbal waters to purify herself and to say chants and prayers for life and health. She would burn the used material as needed in the fire, adding herbs to it. She would chant and say prayers of thanksgiving each time she burned the material.
In the evening, she would bathe once more and for three days, she would fast, drinking only broth of squash and corn. This would help to purify her body and also to remind her of the gifts the land and spirits provided. On the fourth day, she would be given solid food and would stay until her bleeding was done. She would then go to the river to bathe thoroughly and then return to her hut and her family.
“Later in the morning, I shall bring you broth to drink. Go to sleep now and enjoy your time of ease. This is the only time a woman may be idle and we enjoy it much,” Nuna said and Kim heard the smile in her voice.
“Thank you, mother,” she said softly and got beneath the soft pelts. She pulled the cover up over her naked shoulder and sighed heavily and she smoothed the hair away from her face.
A week of sitting around, which sounded good. But she knew herself and she would get bored quickly. She had passed the hut many times since her arrival. She heard women laughing and talking. It had always caused her to smile, reminding her of her abuela and her friends. She sighed softly and thought about her abuela. She wondered if the ache would ever leave her? Wishing to go home was a waste of energy and it left her moody and sad. It wasn’t how she wanted to live her life. She listened to the rhythm of the soft snores around her and her eyes grew heavy and she was pulled into sleep.
It was just after sunrise and Kim was washing with a soft piece of hide; the water was warm and scented with herbs. Nuna was beside her, instructing her of how to sing the chants and prayers. Kim finished and looked over and smiled. Nuna nodded and handed the bowl of broth over. Kim’s stomach growled and she sipped at the liquid slowly. She wanted it to last and though she knew she would get more later, she remembered too well the feeling of biting hunger. Her eyes shifted over to the woman sitting about fifteen feet away. Her nostrils flared; the woman stunk.
When she’d first woken after dawn, Kim had relieved herself in the pot that was provided each woman. She had noticed several women awake, sipping tea. There was a woman she recognized who lived several huts down from her own home. She had smiled and had lifted her bowl in salute. Kim had chuckled softly at the universal salute. No one said anything as they sipped their tea. It was willow bark tea, to help with the cramps. She smiled, also detecting honey in the tea as well. She lost the smile, thinking of Mingan who had not returned with the men. The camp was on high alert and she knew many were standing watch outside the walls.
While sipping her tea, a bundle moved and shifted and a woman sat up. Kim was startled to see it was a white woman, a blonde woman. She was filthy and when she moved the blankets, her stink wafted out. Kim’s eyes went to the woman near her and the woman shrugged. Kim kept silent and watched the blonde as she finished her tea. Shortly after, Nuna came in carrying a bowl of broth and a bag of herbs.
“Mother, who is that woman?” Kim asked.
“She was a slave to the Deer Clan; they live farther north. She was taken in a raid on a settlement up north.”
“Why is she here?” Kim said, her eyes sliding over from time to time to watch the woman. An old woman walked in and carried a bowl of broth. She took it to the woman, who kicked it out of the old woman’s hands. The old woman shook her head and left, taking the bowl with her.
“That is Nadie, which means wise. Three months ago, the Deer Clan came, Nadie is from the Deer Clan. She saw the girl and felt sorry for her and wanted her. She was given the girl and wanted to adopt her. Her own daughter died many years ago. Since then, the girl refuses to learn the language. She barely works and is rude to Nadie. When the fur traders come, she will give the girl to them,” Nuna said, her voice soft but held no sympathy. Kim looked at her adopted mother and wondered at it but she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t here to judge her people. She was one of them now and she knew she could be in the very same situation with this tribe or the whites. Slavery was a fact of life, the indigenous had slaves, be they white or other indigenous from rival tribes and the whites most certainly had slaves.
She knew she would definitely be treated as a slave by the white folks, if they were puritans, colonists or early Americans. The fact that she was back during this time had doomed her to slavery, one way or the other. She’d been damned lucky that the Wabanaki had adopted her. She could well have been enslaved and raped by the men of the tribe. She felt a pang of sorrow and sympathy for the woman, who had more than likely been raped by the men of the Deer Clan. She could not even imagine the living hell the girl had gone through.
Several hours later she heard a high-pitched shriek from the forest and she and the women stood. She looked over at the blonde woman, whose blue eyes had grown large with fear.
“They are outside the palisade,” the woman, Tahki, which meant cold wind, said. There was no fear in her voice, just a statement of fact. Kim took comfort in that and shifted on her feet. Someone came into the tent and held several knives. The woman handed her a knife and gave one to Tahki and another woman. The blonde didn’t get a knife.
The women stood and waited, listening to the screams outside the village. The noise wasn’t near and in fact, seemed to be moving away from the village. Tahki went to sit down and poured tea and lifted a brow to the other women. Kim nodded and was poured a cup of tea. She held the hot earthenware in her hand. Oddly, she didn’t feel afraid and her eyes shifted over to the blonde.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry,” she said in English to the woman. The blonde’s head whipped around and she stared goggle eyed at Kim.
“You. You speak English?” she stammered. Tahki looked at her quizzically.
“Maybe I can help her. Maybe I can tell her that if she tries to learn the language she won’t be sold. Maybe, she can find peace here. Maybe, she can be happy,” Kim told Tahki, who looked skeptical, but nodded.
The woman scrambled closer, holding the hide to cover her body.
“You are a slave. You, you live with these savages?” she asked.
“No. I’m not a slave.”
“But you were, you were a slave and they took you?” the woman said, her voice adamant.
“No. I’ve never been a slave. These people found me and adopted me. I was lost in the woods and when they found me, they brought me here.”
“But you are a slave. You are of the ignorant continent of Africa; your skin is dark. My family owns many slaves, I know,” the woman insisted. She stood; her posture now arrogant.
“Uh, girlfriend, I have never been a slave. And I’d be careful about slinging the word ignorant about so freely, cause sister, you’re about as ignorant as anyone I’ve met,” Kim said and laughed without humor, her eyes narrowing. Something about this woman’s disdain and contemptuous attitude toward Kim because of her color sent her hackles up.
“You speak to me as such? You and these filthy savages?”
“Girlfriend, you’re the pot calling the kettle black. I can smell your stench from fifteen feet away.”
“How dare you speak to me thus!” the woman snarled and started forward when Tahki and the other woman lifted their knives. The blonde stopped her advance.
“I’m sorry that you were taken from your home. I’m sorry you were hurt by others. Let me break it down and lay a little truth on you, sister. The woman who took you in wishes to make you a daughter,” Kim said and held up her hand when the woman’s face screwed up to say something nasty. She really didn’t like this woman.
“She had pity for you. You have a choice to make and something to think about. These people have been incredibly kind to me. You think you’re above them, superior, yet, you sit in your own filth. You’re ignorant of a language that might offer you comfort, to know what is being said and to communicate. Because you’ve owned slaves, you think you know who and what I am, but sister, you’ve no clue, not even a glimmer of a clue,” Kim said, her voice soft. The other women watched, though they could not understand.
“Soon, fur traders will come. You’re going to be given to them, because the old woman is tired of your crap. What do you think will happen to you, once you’re given to them?”
“They’ll take me back to my family. My family will pay for my return,” she said arrogantly.
“Maybe, but maybe they’ll rape you and then sell your body to others, making more money from the use of you. You got that? You understand that? I will never ever see my loved ones; I’ll never live the life I would have lived. You won’t either, you’ll never ever see your home and if by some slim chance you do, how will your family treat you? Tell me, what year is it?” Kim asked suddenly.
“It..it is the year of our Lord God, 1689, why?” the blonde woman said, startled by the question.
“Then your family will remind you that you should live in shame, though the things that happened to you wasn’t your fault. Is that what you want to go back to? Shaming? Like I said, you’ve got a choice to make. You can clean yourself up and begin to learn the language and embrace the freedom. Here, you can come and go as you please and I’m pretty sure no one has touched you since you’ve been here, am I right?” Kim asked, a dark slender eyebrow went up in question.
“No, no one.”
“Think about what you want out of your life. I understand this is totally different from everything you know; it is for me as well. So very different, I can’t even tell you,” Kim said softly, her voice catching.
“Why should I believe you. It is known that all slaves, all blacks are deceivers. You and these savages are all animals, you simply walk on two feet instead of four,” she sneered.
“You know what, I don’t give a shit what you believe or don’t believe. If you’re too stupid to listen, good luck to you,” Kim said in a hard voice and turned.
