Savage Betrayal (39 page)

As she and Spring Fern walked into the area marked off for the festivities, Sarita noticed the blazing fire in the center. Light from tall torches threw giant shadows onto the walls. A wooden stage had been built off to one side.

The large gathering pleased Sarita for her father’s sake. Thunder Maker had put a lot of effort into this potlatch.

She walked quietly to a place near her family. Crab Woman and Abalone Woman sat on cedar mats looking proudly out across the throng of guests. She kneeled behind them, leaning back gracefully on her heels. The women chatted and gossiped while waiting for the opening ceremonies.

Sarita noted the Kyuquot chief, Throws Away Wealth, glancing surreptitiously at her several times.

She shifted uneasily and then forgot about him as a favorite welcoming song, long in her family, began to drift over the crowd.

After several minutes of the familiar chant, the Speaker entered. He strode to the stage and launched into his narrative. A great part of his speech dwelt on Thunder Maker’s famous and noble predecessors. After droning on about the Hesquiat chief’s wealth, his clamming beds, fishing streams, canoes and fishing banks at sea, the Speaker pointed out how strong the village was. After a lengthy summary on the recent fortifications built to defend the village, he launched into another topic. To Sarita’s amusement, the Speaker assured the listeners of the extreme cleanliness of town and beach. He defied them to find garbage anywhere.

Clearly he thought cleanliness made up for strategic deficiencies, thought Sarita wryly. Lastly, the speaker traced the genealogy of Thunder Maker’s family and tied it to every important guest that was present.

She marveled at such a feat; the man had to go back several generations in some cases, and refer to mythological ancestors in others, but she realized that much of what he said was for dramatic effects. He was under strict instructions to solidify the tie between host and guests, and to ease the path for future political alliances. Reluctantly the Speaker ceased his oration and vacated the floor.

Thunder Maker himself appeared next. To a chanting chorus, the rhythm beaten on a hollow, overturned canoe, he began a song Sarita had not heard before. After singing, he bowed in her direction and announced he had learned the song from his grandmother, and that she, Sarita, was the new owner of the song.

All eyes turned to her. She flushed, but nodded her acceptance graciously. This procedure continued for several songs and dances. Thunder Maker then persuaded a few of his high-ranking relatives to sing some of their songs. He thanked the singers and gave them gifts of rain hats, cedar robes, or basketry. Finally, noticing the audience’s restiveness, Thunder Maker made a dramatic presentation of the slave, Rottenwood, to his beloved daughter.

Sarita heard Spring Fern’s gasp and watched out of the corner of her eye as the young woman sought to conceal her reaction. She patted Spring Fern’s hand protectively, but felt the slave girl withdraw slightly.

After Sarita’s polite assent to her most recent acquisition, Thunder Maker signaled to several nearby young men. Leaping to their feet, they began to drag forth large cedar boxes. A low murmur of appreciation swept the crowd as the largess of the boxes was held up for all to see. Hundreds of cedar mats, carefully woven by skilled weavers, were piled in the middle of the stage. Next, approximately fifty, very expensive, red and blue trade blankets were carefully laid out on top of the cedar mats. Gasps could be heard here and there in the crowd at the expense involved. Next were brought out the yellow cedar robes so loved by the nobility. Several of the senior guests eyed the robes avidly.

At Thunder Maker’s gesture, the young helpers began handing out magnificent gifts to the visiting chieftains. Sarita watched the pile of blankets in front of the Kyuquot chief grow higher and higher. She laughed at her father’s clever planning. The Kyuquot looked embarrassed as he realized that Thunder Maker did indeed have enough wealth to satisfy the large, unruly Kyuquot delegation.

Not content with this triumph, Thunder Maker brought out kelp bulbs filled with whale oil. An expensive oil, it was always in high demand by his people. Thunder Maker strode around the area, personally handing out the kelp vessels to eagerly reaching hands. Lastly, he brought out fifty seal hair blankets and potlatched those to his guests. Satisfied murmurs could be heard around the room as the visitors gathered up their new wealth. Several visiting chieftains stood up and took turns thanking Thunder Maker for his largess.

The last one to speak was Throws Away Wealth, and Sarita was secretly amused as he made his speech. The Kyuquot chief shifted uncomfortably as he faced Thunder Maker. A smug look crossed the host’s face as he listened to the flattering words of his shamed guest.

“We are here today sharing your food, O Chief,” began the disgruntled Kyuquot. “It is now evident to us all that you are truly a great chief. You have much wealth and you use it wisely to procure a strong name for your beautiful daughter. I know you did not obtain all these goods without effort. It is obvious that you are very industrious and have many friends and relatives you can call upon to help you. Include your Kyuquot friends in their number. We are proud to be considered your allies and to share with you the songs and dances newly given to your daughter. This potlatch strengthens the bonds between our peoples. Thank you for the lavish gifts. We are truly impressed. Thank you, thank you.”

The Kyuquot sat down, wiping his sweating brow. Sarita chuckled to herself as she guessed what his polite acceptance speech had cost the proud man.

While the guests happily carted away their wealth, she rose to her feet and slowly followed the other women back to their quarters. Her status restored, she now had plans to make—plans for herself and her child.

Most of the guest left the Hesquiat village to return to their own villages over the next several days and once again the Hesquiat longhouses were quiet. Mottled gray sea gulls shrieked demands for fish and wheeled on invisible air currents above the cold green waters of the bay. The days were chill, and low gray clouds heavy with rain, their presence a constant reminder of impending winter storms, hung over the mountains. Nights were bleak; no stars brightened the sky. Autumn reigned.

The Hesquiat villagers bustled about preparing for the annual move to the winter village site. Sarita squatted on the beach, packing a large freight canoe with household goods. Her days were busy with preparations for the upcoming journey.

Precious Copper arrived on one of her numerous trips from the longhouse, her arms laden with baskets and bundles of dried foods. She passed a basket stuffed with dried herbs to Sarita.

Sarita smiled her thanks, then found a corner of the canoe to stow the bulging basket. She and Precious Copper worked together companionably, disposing of the rest of the bundles. When they were finished, there was little room left for anything else.

“Let’s rest awhile,” suggested Sarita. “We’ve been at this all morning.”

Precious Copper nodded and straightened weary limbs. “I brought smoked fish from the house, if you’re hungry. There are a few roasted cinquefoil roots, too, left over from the potlatch. The food’s in that basket.” She pointed.

Sarita nodded. “Let’s eat. Afterwards, we can go for a walk .”

The two young women sat down to eat the delicious fish and vegetable meal. “Do you like staying with us?” Sarita asked conversationally. “I know your status with us is rather vague, but have my people treated you well? Have you any complaints?”

Precious Copper waited a long moment before replying. “I’ve no complaints about the way I’ve been treated,” she said at last.

Sarita detected the note of caution in Precious Copper’s voice. She got to her feet. “Come,” she said, gesturing further up the beach. “Let’s take that walk now.”

The two women walked along, both lost in thought. At last Sarita broke the silence with a long sigh. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you here. I hope Feast Giver hasn’t made things difficult.” She waited.

Precious Copper glanced at Sarita out of the corner of her eye, then replied lightly, “Your brother has made my stay most, uh, intriguing.” Her dimples showed as she smiled at Sarita. “Really he has. He’s behaved very well.”

There was no doubting the sincerity in Precious Copper’s voice. “I’m relieved,” answered Sarita. “I truly want you to enjoy your stay here. I don’t know what my brother has planned for you, but if I can help you at all, I will. I’ll never forget the kindness you showed when I was a captive in your village. If I can ever repay you, I will.”

Precious Copper reached over and patted Sarita’s hand. “Thank you for your concern. I did my best to help you when you were in my village because, well, because I felt my brother was wrong to steal you. And at first he treated you badly, but later he changed.” She looked off into the distance. “You know, Sarita, I’ll also help you if it’s ever in my power to do so.”

Sarita squeezed the hand holding hers, then let it drop. “If only you could,” she sighed ruefully.

“What do you mean?”

Sarita was silent as she came to a decision. “Precious Copper,” she began, “I’m carrying Fighting Wolf’s child.” Sarita heard her companion’s quick intake of breath.

“Oh, Sarita! What are you going to do?”

The other woman’s concern touched a responsive chord in Sarita. With little encouragement, she poured out the sad story of her father’s reaction to her captivity, slavery and pregnancy; and her own determination to have her baby. Precious Copper listened carefully, nodding her head occasionally, but never interfering with Sarita’s monologue.

At last, she finished her tale and there was a long silence while the two women reflected on her dilemma. “I don’t really know what I’ll do,” mused Sarita. “But I refuse to take the herbs Abalone Woman keeps offering me.”

Sarita looked up in time to see Precious Copper give a start as she stared off into the distance. Sarita followed her gaze. “What are you staring at?” she demanded.

“Hmm?” Preoccupied, Precious Copper was silent a moment as she watched a canoe pull into shore. Even at this distance, two figures could be discerned in the small craft with distinctive markings.

“Oh, it’s—it’s nothing.” She turned swiftly to Sarita and smiled her dimples deep in her cheeks.

“It’s only a couple of visitors,” said Sarita petulantly.

“Forgive me,” implored Precious Copper. “I didn’t mean to be distracted from your troubles.”

“It’s all right, I was finished anyway.” Sarita sighed. “Let’s head back and finish the packing. We have to be ready for the big move within the next few days.”

Precious Copper assented, somewhat too eagerly, in Sarita’s opinion. She felt chagrined that Precious Copper could dismiss her serious troubles so lightly. The two turned their steps to where the freight canoe lay on the beach.

They strolled past the visitors who were just pulling their canoe ashore. Sarita inspected them casually. The two men, one young and husky, the other older and wizened, carried the canoe farther up the beach. The men glanced briefly in the direction of the two women.

“Strangers,” commented Sarita. “I wonder what business they have at our village.”

Sarita thought Precious Copper stiffened. The next moment she was sure she was mistaken as Precious Copper said enthusiastically, “Let’s get that packing finished!” The two women quickened their pace, neither glancing again at the newcomers.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the two women loaded another large canoe. “We’ll be ready tomorrow at this rate,” said Sarita happily. Perhaps a change of scene would do her good. This village held too many unhappy memories for her.

“What?” answered Precious Copper. “Oh, yes. Yes, we should be ready by tomorrow.”

Sarita looked at her friend for a moment. “Where are you, Precious Copper?” she asked softly. “You’ve been preoccupied all afternoon.”

But her friend gave no sign that she had heard. A glimmer of uneasiness registered in Sarita’s mind, but she shrugged it off.

* * * *

The night was dark and eerie. A mere sliver of moon lit the sky. Clouds drifted past, frequently obscuring the weak light shed on the village that nestled far below. The black, shadowed hulks of packed freight canoes lay on the beach fronting the village.

Emerging from one of the longhouses, the dark shape of a small, graceful woman flitted through the night until she reached her destination: a disreputable dwelling at the far end of the village.

Quietly pushing aside the skin flap over the main entrance, she peeked inside. All was silent. A dying fire slowed in the center of the main living area. A loud pop from the embers startled her, but she relaxed when no one stirred.

Over to one side of the fire she spotted the man she was seeking. Creeping carefully towards him, past snoring lumps stretched out side by side, she hissed hastily into his ear, “Uncle, uncle!” The figure stirred, moaned. “Shhhh,” she cautioned. When all was still again, she shook the figure slightly, “Uncle, uncle, wake up. Please!”

The urgency in her voice roused the rounded form. He sat up and looked cautiously about. The woman laid her finger across his lips, indicating silence, then gestured for him to follow her outside the longhouse. Silently unwrapping himself from the cedar mats, the older man got up slowly and together they silently slipped out into the night.

The woman exhaled in relief as she maneuvered the man towards a protected stand of trees. “Here we can talk in privacy, uncle,” she assured him. They sat down on a wet log.

“What is it, niece?” asked the older man politely. He was not, in reality, Precious Copper’s uncle, but a distant relative the same age as her father. She was entitled to call him uncle if she wished and because she held the higher status— he was a commoner—he was pleased to go along with the closer kinship term. “I thought I recognized you earlier this afternoon, niece.”

“Oh, uncle,” she whispered, “It’s such a long story. I can’t tell you all of it now. I don’t have much time.” She hesitated. “I need your help.”