Runestone (52 page)

I
t was easier this time, to prepare and to begin travel. Last season the first few days had been a total disorganization. Now the People were seasoned travelers. Within a day or two the march had fallen into an efficient pattern. The distance covered daily was much greater than it would have been a year ago, and the confusion much less. The scouts were now more experienced, and consequently more skillful at their tasks.

The roadway spread before them, running parallel to the river. It was not a road built by anyone’s intent, simply one that existed, shaped through eons of time by generations of moccasined feet. Maybe by bare feet, before that. Bare feet and the hoofed or clawed feet of the creatures that sought the easiest path from one place to another.

Basically, it is so with all roads. No one knows who was the first to use them. It happened many lifetimes ago, maybe at Creation itself. All creatures, seeking an easy path, follow that taken by someone or
something
that went before. The trail may change sometimes. An individual, dissatisfied with the path he follows, sees a better way. At least, he thinks he does. A short-cut, when weather permits … A longer but more comfortable way around a muddy area. The trail divides and comes back together again, to unite for a while.

An old trail, like that followed by the People on this journey southwestward, has changed many times through the ages. Climate changes, political changes take place, new groups come into the area, old enemies become allies, or vice versa, and trading patterns change. Still, over all, there are people who wish to go from one place to another despite disadvantages
or risk, and the trail remains, becoming a roadway that will be used for centuries into the future.

Sometimes the People encountered lone travelers or small parties on the trail. A trader, alone or with a partner or perhaps his family. All of these used the hand signs fluently. They exchanged news and information about the trail, the weather, and the availability of game. Most of these travelers had passed along the trail many times. There are always restless spirits who must do this, who would be hopelessly lost if they ever settled down.

There are others, of course, who would be equally uncomfortable if they were unable to settle down. These must sink roots into the soil of a
place
that becomes their heritage. Mother Earth nurtures them and enables them to become identified with place. They become part of it, and it, part of them.

Mankind probably needs both of these spirits to grow. One extreme represents stability, the other exploration, a reach for that elusive something that is just over the next hill, or maybe just beyond the stars.

   Travelers whom they met on the trail now more frequently mentioned the great freshwater sea. How far? The question often met with a shrug and a question in return: “How fast are you traveling?” The rate of travel of a large group is limited to the speed of its slowest member.

There came a time when people they met on the trail began to refer to “where the trail turns south.” This seemed to be an important landmark.

“Why does the trail turn south?” someone finally asked.

“It cannot go on west,” the trader signed. “There is the Big Water, the Ontario. One must travel south many days. Then the trail turns west again. How far will you go?”

“It has not been decided. We have to stop and plant soon.”

“Of course … But there is a longer season as you go south. You should do well.”

That was the attitude of every trader they had met, an eternal optimism. It
must
be so, for a trader, Nils thought. He must not hesitate to go into strange country. But precisely
because the trader is occupied with what he does, he is considered immune to many of the local feuds and conflicts. He serves a useful purpose, which is respected by all, because he is needed.

“Is there danger where we are going?” Nils asked.

The trader laughed. “No, I trade with all.”

“I mean, danger for
us”

“Oh … I am made to think not. Your scouts, a day or two ahead, talk well with the signs.”

“What nations will we see?” asked Odin.

The trader paused in thought. “Many different ones. Some are related.” He thought a little longer. “Each is known by several names. One they call themselves, then maybe two or three others they are called by different neighbors.” He spoke several names aloud, sometimes accompanied by a hand sign. “Abnaki … you have seen them—People of the Rising Sun. I am told you wintered near some of them. Mohauck, People of the Flint Place. Not the same as Mahican, Wolf People. Their tongues are different. Some say they are treacherous, but I trade with them. Delaware, related to them, also called Wolves. Oh, yes … after you turn south you will meet Chalagee, People of the Caves.”

“
Aiee!
They live in caves?” asked Odin.

“Some do. It is a place of caves. Mostly in towns, sometimes a wall of poles around it. And they build mounds.” He made the hand sign for a little hill.

“Hills?” asked Odin. “Really? They build them? Why?”

“It is part of their worship. A house on the mound for their holy men.”

“We do not know of these Chalagee. Are they dangerous?”

“Not really. They are strong fighters, but not warlike, I think. They use a hollow stick to shoot darts at rabbits.”

There was a pause while the problems of translation were attempted. The People were unfamiliar with the blowgun.

“Of course, they use a bow and arrow for deer,” the trader went on. “And they are growers. Then, if you go on west, you would find Erie, Long-tail Cat People. Even farther, the Illinois nation, several different nations in one. But not this year. Your people cannot travel that far this year.”

“It is good to know these things, my brother,” signed Odin in thanks. “Come, will you eat with us?” “It is good,” signed the other.

   It was only a few days later that the scouts sent back word that they had reached the place where the trail turned south.

“I have seen the Big Water,” the messenger said. “The other side cannot be seen! It is
big!”

“Have you met some of the people along the trail?” asked Big Tree.

“Yes, some. We told them of our plans. Some are called Mohauck. They have flint to trade. We might think of that as we go through their country.”

“It is good,” said Big Tree. “Any others?”

“We were told there are Delaware, the Wolf People. They are related to the Abnaki.”

“The ones with whom we wintered?”

“Yes … they are the same, but different, maybe.”

“But you see no danger from any of these?”

“It seems not. All appear to be friendly.”

“It is good.”

   When the People first saw the huge body of water stretching before them, it was a time of great excitement. Some of them had seen the ocean, where the Big River empties into the sea and the water is salty. Even those were impressed by this magnificent expanse of open water.

“You really cannot see the other side!”

“And this is where the Big River begins?”

“We are told,” said one of the scouts, “that there are other lakes beyond this, bigger still.”

“
Aiee!
How can it be bigger than something that is too big to be seen already?”

Mostly, there was only stunned silence at the magnificence of the view.

To the Norsemen, such a body of water suggested only one thing: the possibility of putting a ship on it.

“It would have to be built here, on this lake,” observed Svenson. “We have passed too many rapids.”

“Yes,” agreed Nils. “If there had been only that first
one …” He let the sentence go unfinished. As they had traveled, it had become apparent that the river, which seemed so fine for navigation, had a number of difficult areas. For some distance it would be wide and deep, but then a stretch of rapids would interrupt the smooth waters. It would be possible to take a boat, even a sizable ship, around the rapids. They had done it. Once, surely. A second place, possibly. But here, on this magnificent river that in long stretches appeared perfect for the use of their longships, were not merely one or two impassable areas, but at least three. Probably more.

They had not spoken of it, but both Norsemen now realized that their dream was beyond reach. Ships might sail certain stretches of the river, might sail this inland sea, but not in continuity. Without speaking of it, Nils had several times thought of the old saying,
A man without a boat is a man in chains
. Somehow, it did not seem to carry the importance that it once had. He was experiencing a different kind of freedom.

Now, however, the sight of this great body of water stirred his Norse blood. How could one look on such a sight without one overpowering desire, to put a ship on it? In his mind’s eye, Nils could see the billowing red and white sails of the longships cleaving their way through the blue waters of this unknown sea.

“Is it really fresh water?” he asked one of the scouts. “Not salty?” That was the thing that seemed most incredible.

The scout shrugged. “So they all say. We have not been clear down to the edge. But it must be. Our Big River runs out of it, does it not?”

“Where can all this water come from?” Nils wondered.

The scout looked at him strangely, and pointed to the sky. “Up!” he said. There was general laughter.

It was tempting to try to go down to the lake’s edge to verify the puzzling freshwater description, but it did not seem practical. The trail ran along the ridges far above it, turning south rather abruptly at this point. They would follow along the very irregular east shore at some distance away. Then, it was said, the road would turn westward, and continue along the south shore, between the lake and the mountains. Maybe, thought Nils, they would have an opportunity for a closer
look. Surely there were inlets on this lake that would make wonderful harbors.

Meanwhile, days were growing warmer, the grass greener. Soon, they would have to choose a place to plant their crops.

T
he scout trotted into the walled stockade around the town and made his way to the lodge where the leaders waited.

“They continue to come this way,” he reported. “It is as we heard. They are many.”

“These are the same who lived near the Delawares last season?”

“Not the Delawares,” said another. “Somebody else … an ally of the Delawares, was it not? No matter. These are the same.”

“But what do they want? Why do they travel? And with families?”

“It seems so,” the tired scout answered. “I saw women and children.”

“Then they do not intend war.”

“Does anyone know whether they planted last season?”

There was silence for a moment.

“They must have,” said an old woman. “The Delawares grow only enough for themselves.”

There was general laughter.

“Not really Delawares, Mother,” said a younger woman, “but you are right. They must have planted to sustain themselves. How many are there?”

The scout shrugged. “Many … hundreds, maybe.”

A murmur ran through the group, followed by a silence.

“If they are only passing through,” said an old woman, “they would not be dangerous.”

“That is true,” said another. “But if they are growers, they must stop soon to plant. Then they would be here for the season. Is there room enough or game enough?”

“Do we know what tongue they speak?” someone asked the scout.

“Only that it is strange to us,” he reported. “They use some hand signs, and some of the trade language. At least, so the Mohauks say.”

“You have talked with them?”

“No, no. I spoke with a trader who had. The trader thinks that these whom he calls River People come from farther east, beyond the Abnaki, even. He thinks they are peaceable. He had traded with them.”

“Ah! Does he know
why
they are moving?”

“He thought maybe they were driven out by an enemy.”

“Defeated?”

“Maybe. Or to
avoid
a war. He did not know.”

“There are more people all the time,” observed an old man. “It is more crowded than in my youth.”

There were nods of general agreement.

“The trader said he knows of others who are moving,” the scout interjected. “People to the south of us are crossing the mountains, moving west.”

“There is more room there?” another asked.

“Maybe so. At least, fewer people.”

There was a brief silence, and then a question.

“Well, what shall be done?”

“I am made to think,” said an old man, “that we should know more of these people before we decide.”

“Yes … where are they now?”

“They have passed the place where the trail turns west, and are several days along it,” the scout explained.

“Ah, they draw close! Could we capture and question one of their scouts?”

“Maybe. They travel two or three days ahead. I have seen them.”

“
Talked
to them?”

“No, I avoided them.”

“How do they act? Warlike?”

“Who knows? They are well armed, but I have talked to no one who knows of trouble with these people. They are just cautious, maybe.”