CHAPTER XXVII

A LONG PEACE

An hour later those who had been such deadly enemies sat at peace together, engaged in a consultation. In a circle, side by side, were the sachems and sagamores of the tribe, the settlers of Pomfret who had come forth with me to rescue our friends, the late prisoners themselves, and Joice seated by me. Apart, and taking no share in the proceedings, were Kinchella and Mary Mills; above, and seated in Senamee's great chair, was Anuza, now chief over all. Farther off were the late bondsmen and many other of the Indians, while in the centre of them was Buck, showing a variety of cheats and delusions, and endeavouring to teach them how to perform them themselves--though this they seemed unable to do.

And now an old paw-wah, or sachem, passed the pipe he had been smoking to another sitting by his side, and spake as follows:

"Chiefs and braves of the tribe who are ever now allies, and you, the pale faces who dwell to the east of us, hearken unto me. For ere the sun sets to night it shall be, perhaps, that peace is settled between us for ever; ay! until the sun shall rise no more and the moon shall be darkened always."

"Speak," said one of the tribe, while others gave the peculiar grunt of the Indian and those of our party also bade him speak.

"It is good," he answered, "and I will speak of the far-off days when first the pale face came amongst us, though not then as a foe, until even now when, if the great Spirit so wills it, he shall never more be one. For the wrongs that have been done by the one to the other may be atoned for ever now."

He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, as it seemed, and then again he went on: "When first the great waterhouses brought the pale face to our land they brought not enemies but friends. This all know. They came among us and they were welcome. We gave them of the fish of our streams and the beasts of our forests and the fruits of the earth, and in return they gave us the fire-weapons with which to slay the beasts. They taught us also how to prepare them in better ways than we knew, they showed us how to build houses that should be more secure against the sun's heat and the winter's cold than those we made of the red cedar's bark. All was well between us; we were friends. Nay, as all know, we were brothers. We lay on the white man's hearth and he cherished us; he slept in our cabins and wigwams and he was safe. Why remained it not so? Hear me, and I will tell you.

"The white man spake not always truth to us. He told us that our lands were worthless, and he bought them from us for nothing, unless it was the accursed fire-drink which made us mad, or for fire-weapons that in our hands would slay nothing. Yet the lands thrived in his grasp and he possessed them and we had lost them. And when we reproached him he used fire-weapons that slew us without failure, and our prisoners whom he took he sent away for ever across the deep waters.[5] So he took our lands and our men, and got all, and we had nothing. And the Indian never forgets. Thus, while we drew away from where the pale face dwelt, some coming to these mountains and some going even farther towards the unknown land of the setting sun, we had naught to cherish but our revenge, and naught to comfort us but the exercise of that revenge."

"Yet," interrupted young Mr. Byrd, "in the days of my grandfather you made a peace with us, and took gifts from us, and fire-weapons that would kill of a surety, and agreed to attack us no more. But even that peace you did not keep, though you made no raids upon us such as this you have now made."

"Yet were we never the aggressors," the sachem replied. "Never was an attack made by us until evil was done to us. But the Indian forgives not. If one of our race was slain by one of the white race then must one of his kin be slain by us; if our women were outraged, as has often been, or insulted, then must a white woman or a child be carried away by us. It is the law of our gods; it must be obeyed. For a life a life, for a hand a hand, for an Indian woman's honour a white woman's, or the carrying off of children."

"But," said Gregory, "there was naught to inspire such desire for revenge as to cause this last attack. None in Pomfret have harmed you or yours for many moons. What had she," pointing to Joice, "done; she, this innocent woman, scarce more than a girl even now, that thus you should attack and ruin her and seek her life and that of those by whom she was surrounded?"

The sachem was about to answer when whatever he would have said was interrupted by Anuza, who, speaking quickly, said:

"Because we were deceived by a lying, false, medicine man it was done. Because he told us lies, even as he has lied to us ever since he dwelt amongst us. And for those lies he shall die. He cannot escape us long. Yet, since it is due to the white men that they should know how that crawling snake worked upon us, so that we believed in him and did his bidding and attacked their houses, tell them all--tell them all," and he motioned to the sachem as he spoke.

That all of us were eager to hear this recountal, you may be well sure, for there was scarcely one amongst us who had not known the wretch. The gentlemen had met him as an equal--for all believed his tale--he had caroused with the (now freed) bondsmen, and he had even gone a-hunting with the backwoodsmen and trappers. So we bent our ears to the narrative and listened greedily.

"He was found," said the paw-wah, "lying in the forest by Lamimi, the young daughter of Owalee, a chief of the Powhattans, and she, because her heart was tender, succoured him. But because Owalee hated the pale faces with a great hatred she kept him secret from her father for many days, hiding him in a cave she knew of and going to visit him often. Yet she believed him to be no pale face, but rather a god sent from another world, so wonderful were his doings. Food he refused at her hands, making signs to her (and knowing, too, some words of her tongue, as she knew some of his, by which they conversed) that meat was brought to him by some unseen power. And of this he gave her proof, showing her bones of fishes and of animals and birds which he had devoured. Later on she learnt that he could marvellously snare all creatures, making them captive to him even though he had no weapons, but this she told us not until to-day. Nor told she until to-day--when she, who had been his squaw and loved him, learned that she was to be cast out and the white maiden here and her dark sister made to take her place--of all his own deceptions and crafts. But, to-day, because she hates him now as once she loved him, she has told all--all! She it was who taught him the history of our braves and their deeds and the deeds of their forefathers, which we thought the Sun God only could have taught him so wonderful did his knowledge seem. She it was who carried to him the news of what the tribes were deciding on doing, either in war with other tribes, or in hunting, or in sacrificing, so that, when he told us that he had learned all our future intentions, again we believed that his father, the Sun, gave him the knowledge. Fools! fools that we were! Yet we never thought of the girl, Lamimi, though we knew she was his squaw. Nor would she have told him all she did had he not ruled her by terror as much as by love. For he made her believe that he could cause her to vanish for ever off the earth, even as he made things to vanish from his hands and be no more seen; or as he made stones to fly into the air and descend no more. Yet now she knows, as we know, that all was but trickery, and that many others can do the same, even as that one there," pointing to Buck, "who says he is the child of no god, can do such things.

"So the false one worked upon us, doing that which no medicine man had ever done before; and so, at last, he got supreme control over us, making us obey his every word. And ever did he tell us that, if we would please the great Sun God, then must we make war upon and destroy all the pale faces who dwelt between these mountains and the waters, directing more particularly our vengeance towards the spot where you, ye white people, live. This we at first would not do, because for many moons there had been peace between us with neither little nor great war; yet, as moon followed moon, and leaf was followed by barrenness and then withered and fell to the earth, still did he press us. When the thunder rolled and the lightning blasted our cattle, he told us the Sun was angry because we obeyed him not; when many of our horses were killed by reptiles and venomous insects he said ever the same; when our women bore dead children still spake he of the Sun God's anger. And yet we would not hearken unto him, for since the pale faces no longer came against us we went not against them.

"But lo! one day, when all the earth was dark, yet with no cloud beneath the sky, he stood forth here on this spot where now we sit, and, stretching out his arms which were bare, he said that ere long upon his hands should appear a message from the Sun telling us of the god's anger. And soon the message came, though now we know that it was a cheat. Upon his open palm, which had been empty ere he clenched it, there appeared a scroll of skin with, on it, mystic figures which none could decipher but he. And the figures said, he told us, that never more should the heavens be light again and that there should be darkness over all the land, if we would not make war upon the white men and save ourselves. For they, he said, were arming to attack us, from over the deep waters their great king, who dwelt beyond them, was sending more fearful fire-weapons than we had known with which to destroy us for ever, and, ere another moon had passed, they would have come. So, at last, in the darkness of the day, and with great fear in the hearts of all the warriors and braves of the tribe, they said if he would cause the Sun God to show his face again, then they would promise to make the war. And so he stretched his hands to the Sun and spake some words, and slowly his rays came forth again one by one and light appeared again upon the world. Yet this we also know now was false, and that the rays would have come and also the light even though the promise had been withheld. I have spoken."

At first none of us uttered a word when the sachem concluded. In truth, all were surprised that, even among these poor, ignorant savages, such credulity could have existed. And, I think, most of us were pondering on what they would have done to the impostor had the promise not been forthcoming by the time that the eclipse--for it was, naturally, of such a thing the sachem spake--had passed away.

Yet a spokesman had to be put forward on our part, and so we drew away a little to consult. And having chosen one, which was Kinchella, we returned and he addressed the Indians thus:

"Warriors, braves, and people of the assembled tribes. We have thought upon all your sachem has said, and we wish that the only true God had inspired your hearts so that you should not have listened to the false prophet who deceived you. Yet, since you have done so, and have made war upon those who in their generation have never harmed you, what reparation can you offer us?"

"Ask what you will," said Anuza, "and if it is in our power it shall be given."

"'Tis well. Listen, therefore. These are our demands. Firstly, all those who dwell with you and have our blood, the blood of the white men, in their veins, shall be brought here, so that we may speak with them and implore them to return with us to their own people. Also that I, who am a humble minister of the true God, may endeavour to bring them back to His service and, if I can prevail upon them, then you shall let them accompany us."

"If you can prevail upon them," said Anuza, "they shall accompany you. But that you cannot do," and the tone in which he spoke seemed to us one of most marvellous confidence.

"At least we will attempt it. Next, we call upon you all here assembled to make vows, the most solemn to which you can pledge yourselves, that never again shall you make war upon the white man, or his houses or property, nor attempt aught against him until he first attacks you, and that none of your tribes shall come within a day's ride of our lands either by stealth or openly."

"Children of these our tribes," exclaimed Anuza, "you hear this demand. Will you agree to it so that evermore there shall be unbroken peace between them and us? Answer."

To this there were many who cried out that they would agree to it, while one, an older man than Anuza, coming forward, said:

"A peace is no peace unless it binds both alike who agree to it. Will the pale faces agree also that, if we advance not into the lands they have possessed themselves of, they will come no further into ours? Will they do this?"

All of our side said they would promise this, while they recalled to the Indians that 'twas more than fifty summers and winters since they had made any encroachments on the Indians' territories, or taken one rood of land from them except by barter at a price agreed upon. And so at last the compact was made--the peace (which hath ever since that day, so far as my knowledge serves, been kept in His Majesty's loyal colony of Virginia) was entered into. It was ratified by the white men calling upon heaven to witness their agreement to it, and by the Indians swearing upon their wounds and scars, and calling upon their gods to inflict most dreadful vengeance on them, and their children afterwards, if they failed in their part. And also was it sealed by the passing round of a pipe of peace, at which all smoked silently for a few moments. But still one other promise was extorted from them--the promise that the sacred symbol of our faith, the Cross, should be taken down and nevermore used for the horrid rites to which hitherto it had been put. This we saw done ere we left them.

Now, as we sat smoking gravely with those who had so lately been our bitter foes, there came in the Indians who had been sent to find the villain Roderick, who reported that nowhere could any traces of him be discovered. He had vanished as mysteriously as he had come--all trace and trail of him was lost.

And what disturbed these grave savages almost as much--nay, I think, more, was that Lamimi, the daughter of Owalee, who had been Roderick's squaw and had loved him once, was gone too. And white and red man both asked themselves the same question--had that love awakened once more in her bosom and forced her to fly with him; or--dreadful thought!--had he in some way been able to wreak his vengeance on her for having told the story of his imposture to her own people?

We were soon to know.