Distant Fires (23 page)

She glanced at Shanata, glowing with dark-eyed wonder at her fascinating surroundings, and the strange man who had allowed them into his private world. He seemed to like her very much.  
 

She supposed he had long ago heard the rumours relating to Shanata’s “savage” origins, and was pleased to see it did not matter. Perhaps, he was a better man than she thought...
 

Though Louise could see that he was struggling, quite successfully, to play the part of friendly host, she noticed his attention drawn primarily to Shanata, as he outlined the history of his house, and all of his possessions as though the inventory were a selling feature on a proposal of friendship, an offer Louise found understandable, given his many years of solitude.  
 

She pictured him amongst his antiquated articles, in study or in prayer, slipping in and out of honeycombed rooms, busying himself with unshared pursuits, while surrounded by servants who neither truly knew, nor cared for him.
 

He attempted to mask it, but as the day passed, whether shadowing Shanata on their travels in or out-of-doors, or bending across the long, richly appointed dinner table, to impart an
anecdote, the glow in his pale eyes was enough to show that he looked at her daughter, as a man attracted to a woman, and she had unsettled feelings about it.
 

In many ways, he was a good catch; young, wealthy, well learned, though not conventionally handsome, pleasant in appearance. On the adverse side, he was quiet, if not brooding, introspective, and it was said in circles privy, prone to heavy drinking. Could it be he had renounced his former vice for religious fervour? Which was worse?
 

By the end of the visit, Louise was aware of a decided change in her daughter, and when, in the silence of their carriage ride home, Shanata was struck by an dissilient need to discuss every aspect of their stay in minute detail; expounding on the friendly hospitality and scholarly ways of their host for the umpteenth time; each, with obvious admiration and scarcely hidden affection, Louise was forced to acknowledge for the first time in her young life, that Shanata was smitten.
 

……….
 

Little more than days had passed, when Shanata was again invited to his estate, this time for a ride, to which Louise declined to attend. When it became clear to her mother that she might
return with an announcement of impending nuptials, she at last, decided the time had come to express her concern.
 

“Duc de Lorraine seems to be a kindly gentleman,” she began, matter-of-factly as her maid and chaperone, assisted Shanata in packing for the brief stay.
 

“Oh, yes Maman, is he not?”  Shanata replied, brightly, donning a Fissue over her gown of petal pink Grisette, in striking contrast to her midnight tresses. “He is a most kind and gracious host, and I do so enjoy his company. He has committed his life to such careful study! Do you know he has tagged and catalogued hundreds of plants and insects on his estate? He plans to show me his collection during my stay. Imagine!”  
 

Louise asked the maid to leave, and sat on the edge of Shanata’s bed.
 

“My darling, you have not known many men in your young life, and there are things that...have the power to harm you...that you do not understand…”
 

“...Oh, but I do!” she quickly interjected.  “I know that I have learned a great deal, through talking with him ... Nature, history, art...I   know that I like to be with him. He makes me feel...well, like you...a lady.”
 

“But, you must remember, my darling, the Duc is unknown to us beyond that of a dinner companion. He may not...share our ways”.
 

Shanata looked puzzled, uncertain of her mother’s point.
 

“What could be wrong with him?”  She asked, with a slight frown. “Has he not shown himself to be a gentleman...a man of honour?”
 

Exasperated, Louise reiterated the rumours of his drunkenness, solitary peculiarities and finally, his religious devotion; the latter which she briefly expounded.
 

“You observed the shrine, and have been informed of its use...and still you say he is intelligent. How could an intelligent man adhere to such a myth?”
 

Shanata did not answer, but sat on the other edge of her bed, staring pensively out the window; her ebon hair and titian complexion in profile; a totem of her people.
 

“Maman, have you ever asked yourself how we came to be?”
 

“I don’t engage my mind in nonsense’” she vent, more disparaging then was her intent. “
 

Louise watched in bafflement, as her daughter’s eyes took on an almost eerie aspect.
 

 “Since I was a little girl, I’ve had a strange dream; a dream about which I feared telling.” She raised a hand unconsciously to her throat, fingering the top of the necklace, which dipped from sight down her décolletage. She had long outgrown the original coarse hemp and deerskin lace. It was now stored in a drawer. But the carved deer now hung from a gold chain and never
left her person. Shanata merely regarded it as much a part of her as hair and teeth; its significance lost in the mists of time.
 

 She continued in a hesitant voice above a whisper,
 

“It is always the same. In the dream, the earth is covered in deep water and I am in the middle of it, surrounded by great monsters. All at once the air is filled with gigantic birds and their song calms me. I looked into the sky and I see a beautiful woman, falling through them from above.
 

“The birds gather with me below to decide on how to save this beautiful woman. They entwined their wings, and break her fall slightly, but when the monsters see that she is continuing to fall into the water, the birds must decide who will protect her from the terrors of the deep.  
 

“Of all the creatures, only the giant tortoise offers to take her on its back, and to stay there, protected, forever. The tortoise becomes bigger and bigger until it turns into a large island.  The woman has twin boys; one is the Spirit of good, who causes all good food to grow; and the other, of evil, he creates weeds and vermin. Something called the Skyholder appears. He says that from the beautiful woman, a special people will be born, who will surpass all other, in beauty, strength and bravery. There will be six pairs of people-destined to become the greatest of them all. The first pair is left near a great river...they are called Mohawk.”
 

  Louise gasped, and turned to where her expression would remain, undetected.
 

  Shanata failed to notice her mother’s reaction, and continued,
 

  “In the dream, they are shown many useful arts...and the families are named after animals, each according to where a certain animal is hunted...mine is the deer.”
 

  There was a stunned silence between mother and daughter. Were they dreams or memories? Could it be that neither time nor geography had eradicated this link? Louise could only listen, slack-jawed at what seemed to be, a myth surrounding her daughter’s people.
 

  “Is it a story I heard?  What could it all mean?”
 

  Louise sat next to her daughter and braced her shoulders, giving no hint of the inner turmoil at what issued from her child’s lips. It could have been a dream, but for one glaring inconsistency. Shanata had never been informed of her Mohawk roots. She had been with her for so long, it was impossible to think that their lives were once separate. Should she choose the moment to reveal her carefully hidden origins?
 

  “What is it Lisette?” She stammered, as her maid entered the chamber carrying a letter upon a salver.
 

  “Excuse Madame. It just arrived. I thought it might be urgent”.
 

  “Let me see.” She responded, rather offhandedly. She welcomed a diversion, a suspension of time to weigh her decision.
 

  Breaking the seal, she stared at the words, at first, uncomprehending. It was from Nicholas’ company in New France, an official document relating to legal particulars as his next of kin, contained within a letter from her old friend, Madame Girald. Certain words leapt off the page...Captain de Belaise...Missing....Presumed dead....
 

  The colour drained from her face, as the missive slipped to the floor.
 

  “What is it, Maman?” shouted Shanata in dread, quickly scanning the contents, as her mother stared blankly, unable to speak. The letter from Madame Girald began thus:
 

My dear Louise,
 

I’m afraid that the shock of what I’m about to tell you may be too much, but so it is for myself, and we all bear the heartache of a difficult time. This letter was meant to be one of joy, in the union of our two families, and the imminent arrival of a child, but alas...
 

Do you recall, my friend, long ago, when we entertained the hope that Nicholas might choose one of my daughters?  Well, it happened that he and Sophie
became engaged shortly after our annual midsummer ball the year last, and due to the timeliness of her condition, the marriage was swiftly arranged and held—unfortunately, you could not be made aware before the final ship set sail, and of that, Nicholas was deeply sorry—we awaited the happy event and the time when it should be communicated to you. All appeared well, when in Sophie’s early term, Nicholas was sent on a mission. He and a soldier were ambushed. The other man’s body was found in the water and I dread to tell you my friend, thereto, considering the loss you suffered with your dear husband Felippe so many years ago, his remains were not to be found. Tears are flowing as I write this...
 

Just as we were trying to reconcile ourselves with the loss of your beloved son, our precious son-in-law, we were dealt another blow. There had been a small outbreak of smallpox over the previous summer, and as God’s grace would have it, we were spared, but due to her condition, and I believe, shock over the loss, Sophie was confined to bed and shortly thereafter displayed symptoms of the illness. Try as we might, she succumbed, and we are now plunged into grief beyond despair, as husband, wife and child face their eternity....
 

Shanata’s eyes trailed off the page, and turned their gaze on her mother, glistening with emotion. How was she to comfort, to salve the inner pain of a mothers’ loss.  For months her mother had been awaiting word from her son, and now, this! Miles and many years had separated them, but she spoke often of Nicholas, and Shanata knew she missed him dearly. How long it would take her to recover was anyone’s guess, but she would try her best to help. One thing was certain; the long projected reunion was now postponed...indefinitely...
 

…………..
 

Having experienced the irrepressible need to leave New France on the death of Felippe and Armand, many years ago, so now was the need to reverse the action in the face of her son’s death. Once able to think clearly, she resolved to go; her only reticence was in placing the affairs of the estate in other less capable hands in order to see to the last behest of her only son. As next of kin on the death of his wife, Louise was conferred responsibility of this task, although it could have been delegated to channels in New France, she felt she owed her son the honour of handling it personally. Besides, the need for closure was an imperative; to see where he had lived and flourished as a man, to talk with friends, and those involved in the mission that led to his demise;
issues that could not be dealt with from afar. And then there was the mystery of why the marriage took place at all, and before, the last ship sailed for France when Madame Girald had stated otherwise; a chance revelation made at the shipping office on another inquiry.
 

It was so unlike her son to keep his intentions to himself, knowing of her interest in his solitary status; the gentle ‘nudging’ in her letters, for a grandchild. Thereto was the question of his choice. Why Sophie?  A lazy, spoilt, ill-humoured girl, no discernible attribute outside of her vaguely attractive appearance ... Had she blossomed so greatly in the intervening years?
 

Louise wearily went to her wardrobe to observe her closets and the clothes she would take. Seeing this was not an “official” visit by the wife of a former Governor-General, she wished to downplay her presence, travel incognito if possible. It was better for Shanata. The damask dresses would be left far behind; simple muslin or cotton and warmer outerwear would do for the journey. They would go alone, no maid to accompany her.        
 

Her daughter had taken news of their return, quite calmly, though she detected a certain disappointment in her manner
 

“Must we go so soon, Maman?” Shanata asked, after joining Louise in her chamber, carrying some garments in hand, her pretty face clouded in indecision.
 

“A change of season is upon us, dear. Our arrival with the first ship is infinitely preferable to the difficulties involved in later travel.”          
 

The girl looked down. The news of her stepbrother’s death, though shocking, was not as acute to her senses as was the effect on her mother and she wished with all her heart to assist her, while some still unfathomable resistance lent itself to stay. Wrestling with the problem, another thought burst forth: “Maman!” Shanata blurted loudly. “The dinner. The Duc de Lorraine has invited us to dine this evening,” Then, as if to temper her excitability and offer additional incentive, added shyly, “the Comte will be there. We must attend, mustn’t we?”