Alsoomse and Wanchese -- Chapter Four

Algonquian Words

Cattapeak: spring

Cohattayough: summer

Kwiocosuk: shaman, priest

Mamanatowick: ruler of several villages

Nepinough: earring of the corn season

Popanow: winter

Taquitock: the harvest and the falling of the leaves season

Wassador: copper

Weroance: chief of a village

Weroansqua: female chief of a village or dominant wife of the

village’s weroance

Windigo: cannibal monster (plural: Windigoag)

Characters Mentioned

* historically identified person

Alsoomse (Independent) –17, protagonist

Askook (Snake) – 21, Hurit’s brother and enemy of Alsoomse and

Wanchese (Take Flight off of Water) -- 20, protagonist

Gilbert, Humphrey – colonizer who dies at sea, 44 at time of death

Kitchi (Brave) – Alsoomse and Wanchese’s dead brother, 11 at time of death, 1580

Machk (Bear) – 17, Nuna and Wapun’s brother, friend of Wanchese

Nuna (Land) – 16, Alsoomse’s friend across the lane

Odina (Mountain) – 16, Alsoomse’s friend across the lane

Pules (Pigeon) – 11, Odina’s sister

Tihkoosue (Short) – 13, Granganineo’s son and Hurit’s step-son

* Wanchese (Take Flight off of Water) – 20, protagonist

Wapun (Dawn) – 12, Nuna’s amd Machk”s sister

* Wingina – 34, current mamanatowick and Granganimeo’s brother

Chapter Four

“All right, I will.” Alsoomse placed her palms behind her. “The two boys – whose father was the sun god -- had killed the monster wolf. They had come back to their home. Their names were Sesigizit and Ooseemeeid.” She looked at each of the young girls. “Remember their names. I will ask you later.”

Pules’s face tightened.

“You better not,” Wapun answered.

Grinning, Alsoomse resumed. “Because they wanted to make strong bows and arrows, they asked their mother where they could find the best of wood.

“‘Far away in the foothills is a ravine, where a forest of just such wood grows,’ the mother said. ‘But the path to the forest is steep and narrow, and a great windigo giant guards it, throws every traveler off a cliff.’”

“How inconvenient,” Askook remarked.

Wapun made a derogatory face.

“There was also a fierce mountain lioness that prowled the path. She had killed and dragged many travelers to her den.”

“Did the mother tell that to the two boys?”

Tihkoosue laughed. Wanchese looked at him, scowled.

“Yes, Pules, she did.” Alsoomse consciously smiled.

“The boys -- Sesigizit and Ooseemeeid – they went there anyway?” Wapun’s teeth glinted.

“We will just have to see.” Alsoomse straightened. “So you remembered their names, just to outdo me!” she said, feigning indignation.

Pules frowned. Wapun giggled.

“Go on,” Tihkoosue said.

“Is there a chance we can guess the outcome?” Askook loosened his neck muscles, leaned backward, yawned.

“Just tell the story, Alsoomse,” Wanchese said.

“Thank you, Brother. Thank you for your interest.” She turned toward the two girls. “They did leave to find the wood. Up the path they climbed, watchful for the lioness. And, there ahead of them … they saw her! But Sesigizit, the older boy, had a plan!

“‘Lioness, would you tell us,’ he asked politely, ‘where we can find the forest in the ravine that has excellent wood?’

“‘Yes, I am going that way myself. I will show you the way.' Her plan was to lure them close to her den where she would kill them” – Alsoomse raised her eyebrows – “and feed them to her cubs!” Alsoomse smacked her lips.

Tihkoosue grinned.

“So they started up again along the path, which twisted along a ledge. At their left was the terrible cliff and -- far below -- huge, sharp rocks. At their right was the steep wall of the mountain. The lioness wanted the boys to walk ahead of her, but the boys refused. ‘Our mother taught us to respect our elders,’ Sesigizit said.”

Nuna and Odina glanced at Tihkoosue.

“So the lioness let them walk behind her. Soon they came to where the path became very narrow. The boys pretended to be very afraid. They asked if they could walk beside her, putting themselves between her and the wall of the mountain.”

Alsoomse paused. She recognized that Tihkoosue and the two girls knew what was about to happen. Yet they wanted to hear it. She enjoyed as much her listeners’ anticipation and appreciation as she did her creative story-telling. Despite herself, she smiled, remembering the times she had told her young listeners the opposite of what they had expected.

“Afterward,” Alsoomse said, “the boys found the lioness’s den and killed her cubs. They cut off the cubs’ front paws to take home with them.”

“Wait! You … you jumped ahead! What happened … in between?!” Pules appeared suddenly two inches taller.

Machk slapped his right thigh, laughed.

“They pushed her over the cliff! What did you think happened?!” Wapun made her Stupid-Pules face.

“Well, I know that! But how?! The lion was so much bigger!”

“Lioness.”

“You think you are so smart!”

“Go tell Alsoomse their names! Can you?!”

“Their magic sticks,” Alsoomse answered, raising her voice. “They used their magic rabbit sticks.”

“Where would they have been without their magic sticks!” Askook shuddered, exaggeratedly embraced himself.

Pules was pouting. Feeling a tinge of guilt, Alsoomse resumed. “It so happened that the windigo heard the lioness scream as she fell toward the rocks. So he went close to where the path ended and waited. The boys were very high up the mountain now and could see the forest that had the excellent wood. Walking around a bend in the path, they saw the windigo. They quickly shot their arrows at him. He was so big the arrowheads just stung him!”

“Use your magic sticks! Use your sticks!” Tihkoosue exclaimed.

Machk laughed.

“Tihkoosue. Do not get ahead of me,” Alsoomse said, grinning. “Let me finish!”

“Do not use up all the daylight,” Wanchese remarked, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“You do not appreciate a good story!” she countered, eyebrows high. To the others, she said: “The windiigo became very angry. He tried the grab them but he was fat and clumsy and they were quick and nimble. So he began tearing huge rocks out of the mountainside to throw at them. The boys realized they were in great danger.” She stopped, looked lengthily at each of the girls.

“The magic sticks!” Tihkoosue exclaimed.

“Wrong, Tihkoosue. You are right to think that but their father, the sun god, helped them!” She looked at Pules. The girl’s rapt attention made her want to cackle. “He shot his rays straight into the windigo’s eyes so he could not see them. So his rocks missed them! But their arrows were not killing him and they had used almost all they had!”

“What to do?! What to do?!” Askook exclaimed. “I would have run back home screaming ‘Help! Help!’”

“No! They would not!” Pules’s chin jutted. “They are brave! They came to get the wood!”

“Why do you have to spoil this?” Wapun accused.

He smirked.

Alsoomse waved her hands. She said loudly: “It was just the boys’ luck that an old woman came by!” Alsoomse had regained their attention. “The boys talked to her. She was angry at the windigo because he would never let her go to the forest to gather dead sticks for her fire. She told them: ‘The only way to kill that monster is to crack his skull. Then send an arrow into his brain.’ So …”

“Did they do that?”

“Yes, Pules,” Wapun said. “They did that! They cracked his skull with a magic stick and put an arrow in his brain!” She looked at Alsoomse. “Am I right?”

“You are. And that is the end of the story. Any questions?”

They looked at her, surprised. Pules glared. Wapun beamed. Odina’s expression was quizzical. Tihkoosue appeared astonished. How much she enjoyed changing what they expected! Lifting her chin, she asked, “Any lessons?”

Askook, filtering dirt between his fingers, raised his head. “An observation. Too bad Kitchi did not have the sun god protecting him when he took his canoe out into the Great Waters.” He tilted his head, half grinned. “Too bad, also, nobody human was bothering to look after him.” He glanced sideways at Wanchese.

Alsoomse watched her brother rise.

Askook had gone too far.

“Get up!”

Askook stood. He brushed the back of his rear apron.

“Follow me!” Wanchese turned, walked to the center of the lane, faced back. Askook had not moved.

“Are you a coward? Do as he says!” Alsoomse said.

Askook looked at her. “I am not a coward.”

“Then, …?”

“Come with me!” Wanchese, taking long strides, disappeared where the path turned.

“Do not be a woman!” Alsoomse said.

Askook looked at her hatefully. Taking less lengthy strides than Wanchese had, he walked toward the bend.

Wanchese was waiting for him. “Follow me.”

“Why? Where?”

Wanchese turned around, walked ahead.

They arrived at the secluded alcove of spruce branches where Granganimeo had spoken to Wanchese about Tihkoosue.

“Well?” Askook’s eyes wavered. He pressed the heels of his hands against his sides.

“Mind what you say. I am very close to tearing you apart.”

“Do not exaggerate.”

“Should I lose control, I will kill you.”

They stared at each other.

“Well, …” Askook looked away.

“You wear Wingina’s four arrows dyed behind your left shoulder. That is supposed to mean something. You do not show it!”

“I am as loyal to Wingina as any man.” Askook raised his chin, tightened his legs.

“Those arrows mean we are one. We protect each other. We are not each other’s enemy.” Wanchese’s eyes penetrated. “But you make yourself the enemy! You insult, you accuse, you hate.”

“I tell the truth.”

“I see a man who cares only about himself.”

“I see a man who cared so much about himself that he was never here, to watch over his brother.”

Each man’s taut body craved release.

Shoulder muscles straining, Wanchese leaned forward. “There are two things you can choose to do.”

Askook looked at him warily.

“You can be what you are supposed to be. Or you can be our enemy and be banished.”

“Not killed?” Askook mocked.

Wanchese struck him full on the right cheek with the heel of his left hand. Askook went down. He lay still for six or seven seconds, then moved his upper body, groaned.

“Not killed yet?!” Wanchese mocked.

Askook raised himself to a sitting position. A red welt was forming. “Tearing me apart will do you no good,” he muttered.

“Tell my hands and feet that.”

“You are responsible for Kitchi’s death. That is the truth!”

Wanchese crowded him with his legs. “Why does that matter to you?”

“That is for you to find out.”

“You are no cousin of mine. Your blood and my blood are not the same. You would be wise to return to Dasemunkepeuc. Determine there your fate.”

Askook touched the welt.

Wanchese walked away.

#

Wanchese gazed across the water toward the not visible mainland. Wavelet tips, the terminus of the orange sun’s illuminating path, flashed. A canoe’s length away, three sanderlings -- throats and faces fire red -- were plunging their long beaks into the low-tide water.

He marveled at the potency of his temper. He was surprised that his blow to Askook’s head had not been followed by a fist to the throat and a crushing knee to the side of the skull.

He savored the idea.

Something inside him had interfered.

Had Askook been a Pomouik, he would not have hesitated. He was a warrior. Any man who chose to make himself an enemy needed to beware. Askook had become such: to him, to his sister, to the children, to Odina and Nuna, therefore, to all of Wingina’s people. The strength of a village was each member’s loyalty to every member. Minor grievances could be overlooked. Persistent verbal attacks signified a hatred that poisoned. He did not believe Askook would – in fact could -- change.

Why had he stopped? Because Wingina and his council determined punishments? He had not thought of that. He had acted spontaneously. Something deep within him had halted him, was refusing to tell him why.

His sister’s influence? She disliked Askook as much as he and was as quick to show it. She, too, detested cruel people. She would surely enjoy seeing the welt he had put on Askook’s face. If he had killed Askook, would she have approved? He did not believe so. Had that thought stopped him? No.

What then?

He did believe his frequent absences had helped Kitchi become too self-willed, had definitely made it easier for him to behave irresponsibly. He had been at Dasemunkepeuc the day Kitchi had taken his canoe through the exit to the Great Waters.

He had not needed Askook’s reminder about blame.

He had struck Askook because Askook had used this tragedy to inflict pain.

He had worked hard not to contemplate Kitchi’s death: his increasing fright; the realization that the storm that had overtaken him was stronger than his will to triumph; the expectation that he would be capsized into the churning waters; his prayers to Kiwasa; being suddenly overturned, separated from the canoe, spun about, driven down, down given no chance to open his mouth to breathe. How long had he fought? Had he willingly succumbed, opened his mouth to swallow? Or had he screamed his defiance?

It occurred to Wanchese that he had not killed Askook because he, nobody else, deserved the pain that Askook had inflicted! What other explanation could there be?

Askook had laid bare his deficiency. He, Wanchese, had instantaneously responded, had again, just as quickly, acted, choosing not to end Askook’s life.

He had suffered deserved punishment.

He would not permit its reoccurrence!

2

On September 8, north of the Azores, Humphrey Gilbert’s two ships passed through a weather front. The men of the Hinde watched the Squirrel mount the peaks and plummet into the canyons of fifty to one hundred foot waves. The light on the Squirrel’s main-mast appeared, disappeared, reappeared. Gilbert, true to his word, remained seated on the stern deck, Utopia in hand.

Later, when the Hinde neared the Squirrel, Gilbert stood. His red hair flapping, he leaned against the railing. The wind carried his voice. "We are as near to heaven by sea as by land." Losing his balance, he seized the top of his sliding chair, righted himself, sat, reopened his book.

A strange man with strange thoughts, more than one crew member had probably thought, the meaning of what Gilbert had said escaping all but the most intelligent.

Their vigil continued into the night. Just before midnight, the sailors of the Hinde saw the Squirrel’s light disappear but not reappear. For several minutes they waited, before they acknowledged that the sea had indeed swallowed the Squirrel and their forty-eight year old commander.