Eliot Pattison - Blood of the Oak

Conawago interrupted. “The people need to know their spirits are secure,” the old Nipmuc said.

“Not like this,” Sarah pleaded. “I beg you!” There were tears in her eyes as Conawago, rising, gently pushed her back to her seat on the packed earth floor.

“I had a dream,” Adanahoe declared. “There was a cave on an island in a great lake. There were many white birches and an eagle lived in an oak atop the cave, a sentinel sent by the spirits. Conawago says he knows where that cave is, in the western lands beyond the inland sea.”

“But the people . . .” Sarah said, her voice thick with emotion. “Our own world could become so hollow. Hope is already so difficult to . . .” Her voice trailed away as tears flooded down her cheeks.

Duncan’s fear was turning to desperation. Something terrible was happening but he could not put a name to it.

“Not all go, child,” the matriarch said. “The Blooddancer is restless and needs a new home, and four of the others. The Council met through the night last night to decide which ones.”

Sarah’s hand gripped Duncan’s. Suddenly he understood why Tanaqua wore the badge of his secret office. The gods were leaving their centuries-old home with the Haudensaunee.

“It is only for a time,” Adanahoe said, forcing a smile. “Surely there will come a day when our chiefs will decide it is safe for them to return.”

Woolford’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Grandmother, I beg you to speak no more with us of this thing. Do not let Europeans know of the destination. This should be a secret only for the tribes.”

“The number of those we can truly trust grows smaller each year,” the matriarch replied. “Only a few will know, but those that do must be those who know how to turn back evil when it seeks us. You stand with us. You have bled with us, and for us. We know now that your blood and our blood comes from the same ancient source, from the oak of the forest. And it will be those of that blood who will shape the coming age.”

The honor being shown to Duncan, Sarah, and Woolford silenced all protest. They were three outsiders who would be trusted, three not from the tribes but still of the tribes. It did not include any of those from Johnson Hall, where betrayal had triggered so much death and suffering.

Only now did Duncan see that Conawago too wore a bundle of feathers, claws, and ermine fur on his arm, and his heart sank further as he realized what it signified. The old Nipmuc twisted two fingers around the bundle as he spoke now of their distant destination. There would be long rituals to perform once there, and a small, stealthy group of human shadowkeepers would be left behind to aid the eagle.

They left in the predawn greyness, a file of a dozen solemn men led by Conawago and Tanaqua, five of them carrying on their backs the special doeskin pouches in which the sacred masks were transported.

Duncan and Sarah watched from the shadows, their hearts laden with emotion. They were witnessing the retreat of a great people, for centuries the masters of the forests and guardians of the forests’ secrets. The Haudensaunee would endure but part of their hearts would be empty. They watched in silence as the last of the sacred warriors disappeared into the morning mists. Not for the first time in watching his friend depart, Duncan wondered if this was the journey from which Conawago would never return.

Sarah led Duncan back to the little lodge where Adanahoe now slept, and they sat outside the doorway in silence until the sun had cleared the top of the trees.

Their encampment was full of laughter when they finally returned. Sir William had organized a lacrosse game among the adolescents, and Analie and Kuwali had accumulated so much grime from rolling on the soft earth that they were almost indistinguishable from their Iroquois playmates. A messenger had come from Edentown with letters, and Duncan sat with Woolford as they listened to Sarah read an account from Alice Dawson.

Smiles grew on their faces as they heard how surprised Alice had been when Colonel Washington and Webb had called on her, how shocked she had been to receive from the colonel the paper that returned the plantation to its rightful owner. Gabriel’s overseers had been dismissed the following day. Ursa had taken up duties at the smithy and his first task had been to melt down all the leg irons. Alice was teaching Ursa to read and write so he could correspond with his son at Edentown. Winters had been put in charge of rebuilding the mill for Mr. Bowen. Chuga had miraculously appeared on the porch one morning, and now stayed at the manor house most days, though always leaving at dusk to sleep on the high bluff with Jahoska.

Sarah pulled a new Pennsylvania Gazette from the bundle and broke into a wide smile before handing it to Duncan. The Stamp Tax Congress so dreaded by the Krakens had been officially announced, and would soon take place in New York, with at least nine colonies attending.

Reaching the final letter, she paused and pointed to the runner marks along the top. “It’s for you, Duncan. Urgent committee business, the runner notes.” Sarah looked up in surprise. “From that genteel Samuel Adams of Boston.” She puzzled over the envelope. “But what’s this? To Duncan McCallum; it says, Son of Liberty .”