Into the Wilderness
Page 185
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Stone—Splitter turned to Nathaniel and asked for an explanation in his own language, which took a long time. Then he turned back to Elizabeth.
"And you are the teacher?" he asked.
She nodded.
Stone—Splitter looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Bone—in—Her—Back," he began. "We see you. You are a good woman. You have brought Wolf—Running—Fast the land he needs to keep his people safe. You have shown great courage in the bush. You killed the O'seronni who walked with the Windigo, a ghost—man who has caused the Kahnyen’keháka much sorrow, and you show us respect and a willingness to learn our ways. We see no fault in you but your pride."
Elizabeth blinked at him, confused. "Pride?"
He—Who—Dreams spoke up, his voice raspy with age but his tone not unkind. He spoke slowly, switching back and forth between his own language and a melodious French. "You call yourself teacher, and summon children to you. White children, and black, and Kahnyen’keháka. But we ask, what do you have to offer our children? You cannot make a moccasin or skin a deer. You cannot cure hides. You know nothing of the crops, how to plant or tend them. You cannot turn your hand to hunting, or show them how to track. You do not know the names of the moons or the seasons, or of the spirits who direct them. Of medicines you know nothing. And yet you call Kahnyen’keháka children to your school. You will teach them to read and write your language. You will teach them of your wars and your gods. You can teach them only to be white."
Blushing hot with confusion and anger, Elizabeth struggled hard to hold on to her composure. Nathaniel had taken her hand and she felt his tension, too, but she was being tested and he could not help her.
The sachem finished: "Bone—in—Her—Back, I wish you well, but we cannot send our children to you. Instead, I say that you should send your sons to us, and we will make men of them."
The men were watching her, their eyes hooded and expectant. Elizabeth searched inside herself for an answer to this man, for some way to make him understand. She meant well; she had only the best intentions for those children who came to her. Reading and writing were good and necessary skills, ones that would open up worlds for them.
Other worlds.
She cleared her throat.
"Sachem," she began. "We are ignorant of your stories, that is true. Most of my people are dismissive of your way of life. But it is also true that the Europeans are here and will not be sent away." There was a surprised murmuring, but Elizabeth continued, searching for the right words. "All I can offer your children is a command of our language, and a knowledge of our stories. It is through those stories that you can gain some understanding of how we think."
"You give us weapons to use against your own people," Spotted—Fox pointed out to her in a very good English.
"I would give your children a tool," Elizabeth said quietly. "What they do with it once they leave my classroom I cannot determine."
The sachem was looking hard at her, his face impassive but his eyes wide and flashing with the speed of his thoughts. "If you stay with us for the summer, we will teach you our stories, and you can teach us your own.
"I thank you for this honor," she said. "But we have family at home who wait for us. I will learn the Kahnyen’keháka stories from Falling—Day and Many-Doves and Runs-from-Bears. And from Otter, who has already taught me important lessons," she added, seeing the young man suddenly at the back of the crowd of men.
"Otter goes to fight with Little—Turtle against the treaty breakers in the west," said Stone—Splitter.
Elizabeth glanced at Nathaniel, and he nodded. When she looked into the crowd again, Otter had disappeared.
"Is this your decision, then?" Stone—Splitter asked, his eyes moving between Elizabeth and Nathaniel. "Do you leave us?"
"As soon as we are ready to travel after the Strawberry Festival."
"And what of Cat—Eater?" asked the sachem. "Will he travel with you?"
"No," said Elizabeth before Nathaniel could speak. "He does not."
"He wishes to speak to you."
"We will resolve our business with Cat—Eater before we leave," said Nathaniel.
Astonished, Elizabeth turned to him. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. She swallowed hard and settled back on her heels.
"First it looks as though you have business to settle between yourselves," noted He—Who—Dreams.
Elizabeth went back to the Wolf long house on her own, because Nathaniel had more business to discuss with the men. She was preoccupied and unsettled by the conversation, and unsure of the answers she had given. Suddenly all the things she had taken for granted about herself and her purpose in coming to this new place were suspect. Torn by indignation and doubt simultaneously, she walked along lost in thoughts, so that at first she did not hear the voice that called to her, and then she did not recognize it. And when she did, she suppressed both a groan and the strong urge to walk on as if she were deaf to her own name. But her training, even now, was too deeply ingrained for such behavior. Slightly light—headed, Elizabeth turned and found Richard sitting in the sun on a blanket before the Bear long house
If she had been thinking of some short and less—than—friendly greeting, it died at the sight of him: this was a man with Richard Todd's voice, but he looked like no one she had ever known.
"And you are the teacher?" he asked.
She nodded.
Stone—Splitter looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Bone—in—Her—Back," he began. "We see you. You are a good woman. You have brought Wolf—Running—Fast the land he needs to keep his people safe. You have shown great courage in the bush. You killed the O'seronni who walked with the Windigo, a ghost—man who has caused the Kahnyen’keháka much sorrow, and you show us respect and a willingness to learn our ways. We see no fault in you but your pride."
Elizabeth blinked at him, confused. "Pride?"
He—Who—Dreams spoke up, his voice raspy with age but his tone not unkind. He spoke slowly, switching back and forth between his own language and a melodious French. "You call yourself teacher, and summon children to you. White children, and black, and Kahnyen’keháka. But we ask, what do you have to offer our children? You cannot make a moccasin or skin a deer. You cannot cure hides. You know nothing of the crops, how to plant or tend them. You cannot turn your hand to hunting, or show them how to track. You do not know the names of the moons or the seasons, or of the spirits who direct them. Of medicines you know nothing. And yet you call Kahnyen’keháka children to your school. You will teach them to read and write your language. You will teach them of your wars and your gods. You can teach them only to be white."
Blushing hot with confusion and anger, Elizabeth struggled hard to hold on to her composure. Nathaniel had taken her hand and she felt his tension, too, but she was being tested and he could not help her.
The sachem finished: "Bone—in—Her—Back, I wish you well, but we cannot send our children to you. Instead, I say that you should send your sons to us, and we will make men of them."
The men were watching her, their eyes hooded and expectant. Elizabeth searched inside herself for an answer to this man, for some way to make him understand. She meant well; she had only the best intentions for those children who came to her. Reading and writing were good and necessary skills, ones that would open up worlds for them.
Other worlds.
She cleared her throat.
"Sachem," she began. "We are ignorant of your stories, that is true. Most of my people are dismissive of your way of life. But it is also true that the Europeans are here and will not be sent away." There was a surprised murmuring, but Elizabeth continued, searching for the right words. "All I can offer your children is a command of our language, and a knowledge of our stories. It is through those stories that you can gain some understanding of how we think."
"You give us weapons to use against your own people," Spotted—Fox pointed out to her in a very good English.
"I would give your children a tool," Elizabeth said quietly. "What they do with it once they leave my classroom I cannot determine."
The sachem was looking hard at her, his face impassive but his eyes wide and flashing with the speed of his thoughts. "If you stay with us for the summer, we will teach you our stories, and you can teach us your own.
"I thank you for this honor," she said. "But we have family at home who wait for us. I will learn the Kahnyen’keháka stories from Falling—Day and Many-Doves and Runs-from-Bears. And from Otter, who has already taught me important lessons," she added, seeing the young man suddenly at the back of the crowd of men.
"Otter goes to fight with Little—Turtle against the treaty breakers in the west," said Stone—Splitter.
Elizabeth glanced at Nathaniel, and he nodded. When she looked into the crowd again, Otter had disappeared.
"Is this your decision, then?" Stone—Splitter asked, his eyes moving between Elizabeth and Nathaniel. "Do you leave us?"
"As soon as we are ready to travel after the Strawberry Festival."
"And what of Cat—Eater?" asked the sachem. "Will he travel with you?"
"No," said Elizabeth before Nathaniel could speak. "He does not."
"He wishes to speak to you."
"We will resolve our business with Cat—Eater before we leave," said Nathaniel.
Astonished, Elizabeth turned to him. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. She swallowed hard and settled back on her heels.
"First it looks as though you have business to settle between yourselves," noted He—Who—Dreams.
Elizabeth went back to the Wolf long house on her own, because Nathaniel had more business to discuss with the men. She was preoccupied and unsettled by the conversation, and unsure of the answers she had given. Suddenly all the things she had taken for granted about herself and her purpose in coming to this new place were suspect. Torn by indignation and doubt simultaneously, she walked along lost in thoughts, so that at first she did not hear the voice that called to her, and then she did not recognize it. And when she did, she suppressed both a groan and the strong urge to walk on as if she were deaf to her own name. But her training, even now, was too deeply ingrained for such behavior. Slightly light—headed, Elizabeth turned and found Richard sitting in the sun on a blanket before the Bear long house
If she had been thinking of some short and less—than—friendly greeting, it died at the sight of him: this was a man with Richard Todd's voice, but he looked like no one she had ever known.
