Christopher Dinsdale's Historical Adventures 4-Book Bundle. Christopher Dinsdale
before an attack occurred.
Behind the wall were ten large curved structures. Their shapes reminded Jesse of the greenhouses he and his mother would visit during gardening season. He had seen pictures of them in his school textbooks. Longhouses. They were breathtakingly huge! Jesse guessed that the largest one in the centre of the village could easily hold a hundred people and was about the length of three basketball courts end-to-end. The other longhouses on either side could probably hold half as many people. The structures themselves were covered in layers of bark. Around and in between the longhouses were numerous small, bark lean-tos protecting what appeared to be bedding.
Iondaee pointed. “This is our Canada.”
Jesse looked at him in surprise. “Canada?”
“Yes, Canada—our village.”
“Do you mean to tell me the word Canada means village in Wendat language?”
“Yes, of course. Does the word Canada have a different meaning to the spirits?”
Jesse laughed. “I'm not sure about the other spirits, but it does to this one.”
A young boy in the village saw them and screamed with delight. Suddenly, waves of people left their camp-sites and ran to the small entrance in the defensive walls which led through the gardens and into the village. Jesse gulped as Iondaee proudly led them down the hill and into the pandemonium. They made only slow progress as they gently pushed their way through the wall of women and children lining the entranceway. Jesse had to yell into Iondaee's ear to be heard over the commotion.
“I don't see any men in the village.”
Iondaee looked at him suspiciously. “You, of all spirits, should know that most of the men hunt during the warm season for winter meat. The other warriors are scouring the forests for Iroquois scouts. The women, meanwhile, tend to the harvesting of plants and the raising of children. You truly are a strange spirit.”
Jesse ignored the remark. “You are a young man, a warrior. Why are you not out with the other men?”
Iondaee's face dropped. “The women demanded that I stay and help protect them from enemy scouts and wild animals. They have the power to do this. It is also the first step in their method of choosing a chief.”
“You mean the women choose the chief? Don't the men have any say?”
Iondaee shook his head. “The women control the children, and therefore they control the men. The men do whatever the women tell them to do, including when to choose a new chief! Although the black robes have been demanding that the men start making all the decisions for our people, I feel that the ways of our ancestors must be respected.”
Jesse was curious about this women-run world, but those thoughts were lost in the screams, shouts and pushing of the villagers. They giggled with excitement as they touched his fur, then squealed in fright as they snapped their hands back, afraid of actually touching the famous “Spirit of the Deer Trap”. No one could believe such a magnificent forest animal would simply stroll into their village without any sense of fear. What a mighty spirit this deer must be!
Jesse tried to play the part of a powerful spirit. He held his head high and took slow, yet smooth steps. The frenzied crowd parted as they pushed their way through. So this is what it must be like to be a rock star, thought Jesse. A little claustrophobic, but not too bad at all!
“Thank you. Thank you, everyone!” He leaned down to look into the eyes of a young girl. “Hey, what's your name?”
The little girl smiled shyly at him but said nothing. Jesse then turned to a pretty woman with waist-length black hair. In her arms was a newborn baby. “You have a beautiful baby. How old is he?”
She simply stared at him in awe. Jesse looked at his friend.
“Hey, Iondaee! I don't think these people understand what I'm saying.”
Iondaee shook his head. “I don't think they do either. I guess with you being my guardian, only I can hear your voice. To them, you are a majestic, but silent, spirit.”
The woman with the baby stepped closer, not taking her wide eyes off Jesse. “Can you really talk to this great deer spirit, Iondaee?”
“Jesse, this is my wife, Shecu, and my son, Amantachu.”
“Hello,” said Jesse, not sure why he bothered to speak, since they couldn't hear him, but he figured Iondaee would appreciate the effort.
“He greets you,” Iondaee translated.
She blushed, “It is a great honour for a spirit to visit our humble village.”
Jesse tried to reply as a great spirit should. “The honour is mine. I can see that you and your people live in peace and happiness. I am very pleased.”
Iondaee translated, and the whole village murmured in excitement. This was wonderful news. Even though they were living against the wishes of the Jesuits at Ste. Marie, the spirits of the forest were pleased with them. Everyone began to celebrate by dancing and shouting for joy. Even Jesse got into the festive mood by prancing to the beat of the singing and nodding his head.
Suddenly, a fiery pain erupted from his neck. Jesse screamed. He collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain. When the people saw their spirit collapse, they screamed in fear. Iondaee, the hunter, had seen everything. His eye had caught the streaking movement of an arrow as it grazed Jesse's neck, now embedded at the foot of a log supporting the nearby longhouse. It took only a moment for him to determine where the arrow had originated. He wheeled around and stared back towards the hill. A warrior rose from his knees and ran towards the village, drawing another arrow on his bow and again taking aim at the wounded great stag.
Iondaee threw himself in front of Jesse, shielding him. “No!”
“Iondaee!” shouted the warrior. “Get out of the way! Why are you protecting that crazy beast? He's terrorizing the village!”
“Asitari, no!” Iondaee commanded. “Don't shoot! You have made a terrible mistake!”
The people were still screaming in fear as Asitari entered the village. “What is happening here? I was coming to tell our people to evacuate to Taenhatenaron when I saw everyone panicking. Has this animal killed someone?”
“You do not know what you have done,” said Iondaee, angrily. “It was not panic, it was a celebration. Jesse, are you alright?”
Iondaee put his hand on the jagged neck wound. When he removed it, his hand was crimson with blood. Jesse, no longer stunned by the shock and pain, staggered back onto his hooves. His neck was in agony. It felt as if someone had placed a white, hot poker against the skin of his neck. He glared at his assailant, who was still confused by the entire situation. Iondaee was trying to explain what had happened when several furious women began hitting the confused warrior over the head with dried cobs of corn.
“Jesse!”
Jesse looked to Iondaee, but the voice was not his. It was familiar and it was coming from the forest.
“Jesse, wake up!”
There, beyond the village gate, was a white light glowing in the distance. Home. Jesse knew he needed to get to the light as quickly as possible.
“I have to go,” he managed to whisper.
Iondaee, now caught in the middle of the chaos as more and more women and children began to assault the poor warrior, didn't hear him. Jesse was beyond the village gate by the time Iondaee had noticed that Jesse was gone. The warrior pushed his way through the crowd and ran to the gate, but the deer was moving far too quickly for him to catch up.
“Jesse! Wait! Come back! We must apologize!”
Jesse turned his head in mid-stride. “I'm sorry, but I have to go!”
And the great stag vanished before Iondaee's eyes.
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