Chapter 5: Black Tea
Wolf Eyes came toward the village by way of the mountain path. He knew where the sentries were posted, and before he got to where they could see him, he gave the call of a whippoorwill, because it was getting dusky. When he came out of the forest and past the cornfield, he could see the Sun Spirit, settling beyond the mountain, to the west. It was a glorious departure for the day.
The sky was a blanket of red, stretched across the horizon. The Moon Spirit would appear later to light the night sky with a soft shimmering glow. The Moon Spirit was a more gentle spirit than the Sun Spirit. When the Moon Spirit came on a clear night, he told the stars that he watched over the middle world on this particular night. It was the stars’ time to relax. They did not have to shine as brightly.
Wolf Eyes entered the village through the gate of the palisade. The palisade was a high, wall barricade that surrounded the village. It was made of logs that were stacked, side by side, with the heavy ends of the logs buried into the ground about two feet. The tops and the middles of the logs were crossed, braced by strong poles lashed to the uprights. There were ledges around the top, so that braves with bows could shoot arrows at invading war parties. In some places there were holes that would allow an arrow to be shot, while fully protecting the bowman. The gate was a narrow, overlapping parallel row of upright logs with just enough room for two men to pass, going in opposite directions. This gate could be well defended in case of attack.
Wolf Eyes’ arrival was noticed by a young boy who had been stationed at the gate by the chief. The boy ran with all the speed he could muster to the chief’s house to deliver the arrival notice.
The chief said, “Good, go tell the others.”
Wolf Eyes went straight into the square to the communal fire. He took a seat on the deerskin that had been laid out in front of the fire. He was met there by the chief and the aliktce. The chief sat down on a deerskin that was close enough to Wolf Eyes that they could reach each other with an outstretched arm. Several others now came and joined the group, including Red Talon. Each man around the fire was a principal figure in the tribe. This was a serious ceremony that was held especially for Wolf Eyes, to help him with his mission – mission that was for the whole village and the extended tribal association.
Now the night had come to the village. The Moon Spirit was on the horizon. The firelight flickered and became mixed with the shadows on the faces of the participants and the mask of the practitioners. The aliktce, dressed in the costume of the hawk, was the only man in the square that was not seated. His face was a mask of the hawk, with eyes that were glaring and large. They were wide open. The mask had a beak that turned up and went out between the two eyes. Behind the mask was a headdress that was made of a mass of feathers dyed black and red. His arms were clothed as the feathered wings of a hawk. In the right hand he held a symbolic war hatchet. The hatchet had three cutting edges and a handle that separated in four directions. In the left hand he held, by the hair of the head, a once powerful enemy. The head was shriveled and grotesque with long black hair. The aliktce wore at his knees rattles made from the shells of fresh water mussels. His moccasins also had rattles that made clacking noises when he danced.
The chief lit the ceremonial pipe with a long slender stem from the fire. The pipe would be passed from warrior to warrior, and to each one it would bring a pleasing intoxication, to ready the body for the spirit. The smoke from the pipe rose into the night air and disappeared out of the glow of the fire. The pipe was passed around many times, while the aliktce danced, and the rattles made a rhythm that made the heart fearless.
The warriors painted their faces with four fingers dipped in paint. They positioned three fingers above the eye and one under the eye, just above the cheekbone. The index finger was up above the forehead, at the base of the hair. The warriors would start almost at the nose and sweep the hands back, drawing horizontal lines across the face.
The hair was crested, standing up with the bear grease and with red feathers, trailing backward.
Then the aliktce gave the participants the black tea; a potion made with the berries of the Yaupon Holly and with the spirits called upon by the aliktce. The tea was for cleansing the inside of the body. The warriors drank the drink from cups made from gourds painted with war paint. Then the warriors got up, and with the aliktce, began to dance around the fire. They danced until the black drink took effect and made them sick. To them, this sickness was a natural thing. It was a common occurrence of the body. They one by one regurgitated and sat down.
When the warriors sat down, they had the look of men with a great sickness, as if they had fever, sweating. Then they were in a trance, like men with eyes that looked but could not see. Then the trance passed, and the warriors began to sit up, and they built up the fire until its flames roared into the great sky above. The aliktce danced again around the fire. A slower dance this time, but with the arms making a waving motion like the hawk when it flies. He waved the hatchet in the right hand and the head in the left. He flew around the warriors, invoking the spirit. And then, as Wolf Eyes and the Chief watched, a wolf appeared on the opposite side of the fire and looked at them – his yellow eyes glowing in the dark. Then the wolf disappeared into the night.
The ceremony ended, and the aliktce disappeared into the blackness as the wolf had done. The warriors passed out on their deerskins for the night. They had dreams, and Wolf Eyes dreamed about the wolf. He was on the great journey, and the wolf was his companion – not just any wolf, but the Spirit Wolf. He traveled a great distance, and the wolf led him to a far off land, where men dressed strangely. The men were evil and did all manner of evilness to everyone who was not their kind. They were a curse upon the land that was out of place and did not belong, but yet it was unavoidable. The men had vicious animals with them, and one of the animals was chasing him. He was trying desperately to get away, but the animal was gaining ground. As he ran, and the animal started to attack, he ran and ran and could not get away…then he woke up and realized that it was a dream.
The sky was beginning to show light in the east, and the birds began to sing. The mockingbirds were especially joyful this morning. They could sing a thousand songs, and you never got tired of hearing them. Wolf Eyes lay there a few minutes listening to them, and then he punched Red Talon, to wake him up. Red Talon stretched and sat up, looking around groggily; with his hands on his face, he shook his shoulders. Wolf Eyes and Red Talon stood, stretching their legs out; they ran in place a few times, to loosen up.
There was no signal to start, and no word was spoken, just their routine of what they did every morning, no matter what type of weather. They both, simultaneously, took off in a dead run as hard as they could go. They ran to the creek where they dived headfirst into the water. They had their arms out in front of them, shooting through the water like a torpedo, until they surfaced in the middle of the stream. When they came up, they were splashing water toward each other’s face like two kids.
They got out of the creek and went to get their weapons. The chief had a pouch fixed for Wolf Eyes that contained some dried deer meat and some bread. Red Talon and the other braves also had pouches fixed for them. All the braves met back at the square, and when they were all together there, they left as a group. They were a war party of thirty braves with the mission to go and take care of the dead at the village of Nunnimingo and to make war with any intruders in to their hunting grounds. This party was small, too small to make all out war with the Creek village. That was not the purpose of the mission; instead, it was more to reconnoiter the old battleground around the destroyed village. Wounded Eagle was also in the war party. They would go to the river and meet with the sentries, to reinforce them. Some of the sentries would return to the village, but others would join the war party and cross the river.
Wounded Eagle, a brave of twenty-two winters, was a resident of both villages – Nuktala and Nunnimingo. He was noted as the best tracker in the village. From the mis
sion’s inception, he had taken an active part in its planning. He had relatives that lived in the village of Nunnimingo at the time of the massacre; his mother had been there. He was greatly concerned about her.
Wolf Eyes had great respect for Wounded Eagle. He had been the leader of a war party, early in summer, when the Creeks had encroached on their hunting grounds, to the east of Nunnimingo. He had suffered the loss of his uncle during a raid on a village of the Creeks that was meant to revenge the death of his younger brother.
The brother had been fishing at a creek that bordered territory that was hunted by the Creeks. It was good to keep a sharp eye out in such places, because no one actually knew exactly where the borderlines were drawn. It was this constant changing borders that kept wars going on, year after year. The Creeks must have surrounded him before he knew it and made him easy prey.
Wounded Eagle and his uncle had found the scalped body, and they tracked the killers back to the Creek village. Then they had set up a raid to revenge the murder. During this raid, his uncle received a severe head wound, resulting from a Creek war club. He struggled to return, but died before he reached the village of Nunnimingo. Wounded Eagle had carried his body back to the village. Before this raid his name was Standing Eagle, but since then he had chosen Wounded Eagle, in remembrance of his uncle and brother.
It just so happened that Wounded Eagle was in the village of Nuktala when the massacre occurred. He was there visiting his other brother, bringing the news of the two deaths.
The party traveled at a fast pace, not stopping to kill game or to rest. They traveled in a half run, all the way to the river. When they came close to the river, they made the sound of a mockingbird’s song; it was not just any mockingbird song, but one that contained the progression that was recognizable to the warriors of the village. The call was answered back, and before long the two groups met at the place of the landing.
“Mishiho,” said Laughing Wolf.
“Mishiho,” said Wounded Eagle, “we have brought you food and reinforcement troops. Have you seen anything moving on the river?”
“Keyu” (no), said Laughing Wolf, “everything is quiet.”
Wounded Eagle said, “We should have a council here to decide who will go with us across the river, who will stay here as sentry and who will return to the village.”
So most of the sentries came to the landing site, and they had a council meeting among themselves, to decide the issues. It was decided that twenty-five braves would cross the river; ten new sentries would replace the ones who had been there, and five of the braves that had been there would return to the village.
Wolf Eyes, Wounded Eagle, Red Talon, Laughing Wolf, Giant Owl and Deer that Stares were all in the first group that crossed the river. The canoes made several trips until all the braves in the party were across. When they all were on the same side again, the canoes were well hidden in the undergrowth. The scratches in the sand made by the landing of the canoes were all erased, so that you could not tell that a canoe had been there. Wounded Eagle was in the lead, since he was familiar with the territory. They headed upriver, toward Nunnimingo.
The forest on this side of the river was ancient, with huge oak trees that towered to one hundred fifty feet in the air. Huge branches spread out from the trees, covering a tremendous area. The branches provided shade for the trail.
After years of use, the trail leading by the river had a packed down appearance, which made the walking easy.
The river at this point was wide, deep and gently flowing. An occasional stork would glide from one side of the river to the other. The eagles soared high above it, searching for a fish that was swimming close to the surface.
When an eagle spotted a fish, it would fold its wings and dive, with its talons outstretched and open. The eagle would hit the water with a giant splash, and then, thrashing, would get control of its prey. With powerful wings, the eagle would lift itself airborne again, with the fish hanging in the talons. The magnificent bird would fly off to one of the giant trees. There it would stand on its prey and pull it apart with its great hooked beak. Every once in a while, the eagle would swivel its head and look around with its intimidating eyes. When satisfied that all was safe, it would resume eating.
The party kept moving this way until dark. Then they left the path and climbed a hill to higher ground and made camp for the night. Tonight there would be no campfire, and all they would eat was dried deer meat, for nourishment. The moon came up and bathed the forest with its silver glow. Most all the members of the war party tried to find a comfortable place to lie, while some of them served as sentries, watching for intruders.
Red Talon thought of Three Baskets, her courageousness and her charm, her intelligence and her appearance. Why had he waited so long, he wondered. Maybe no one had impressed him before as she did now. Maybe it was just time for him. He hoped that she was unspoken for, and that she was not recently widowed, but most of all, that she would agree to let him court her. If she were a widow of a deceased husband that had relatives, it might mean a long wait. A widow had to mourn four years before she could take a lover, or else the relatives of her dead husband would cause a lot of trouble. The dignity of the dead was always guarded. Knowing her, she would take care of her dead husband’s name and endure the four years of mourning.
Wounded Eagle was thinking of his mother and wondering if she could still be alive. He could remember the last time he saw her; she was standing at the door of her lodge. Her weathered face had a broad smile when her youngest son fell over and was being licked by the dog. She had always worked so hard to make a home for her children; it was her only joy in life. She had fifteen children at last count. He had been number three of nine chepota nukni (boys). She had kept her elder brothers busy, raising them. Boys were always raised by their uncle, and not by their father. The lineage was traced through the mother, and not the father. The father had little to do in raising the children, although he was an interested party.
Wounded Eagle’s uncle had been a good parent to him, always being slow to anger. One of the wisest men in the village, he thought. He had taught Wounded Eagle many things about how to be forthright and stand tall. He had taught him the ways of the Great Spirit and how to survive in the forest. He taught him how to keep warm in the winter, how to hunt, how to fish and how to track. He remembered him laughing at them during a game of chunkey when the ball came to a rest, and the opponent’s spear was the nearer one. Wounded Eagle had broken his spear in disgust.
Those were grand times that only live now in our memories, he thought. When I go to the great hunting ground in the sky, I will once again be a companion of my uncle. Right now a part of his spirit lives on inside me.
They rested for the night with no incident, and each brave had his thoughts about what tomorrow would bring.
They awoke with the song of the birds at dawn, for the birds loved the freshness of the morning and they tell the world about it with their melodies. The braves got up and stretched and then walked down to the river. Each one slipped into the water and was careful not to make too much noise. They did not horse around in this place, because they never knew where danger lurked. The swim was over quickly, and they started down the path toward Nunnimingo. They would each chew a bit of dried meat, as they wanted to keep up their strength.
They were about a day’s distance from the village when Wounded Eagle decided to get off the river trail. There was no use in inviting trouble, he thought. If there is going to be a fight, we want it on our terms and at a place of our choosing. They left the trail and started uphill into the forest. There was not much undergrowth because of the dense canopied treetops.
They moved at a fast pace, but every once in a while, they would all stop dead still to listen. And any sound they heard would have to be evaluated before they moved on. And so it was that when they passed by the squirrels, the squirrels would bark at them, and they would hurry on to keep from making a disturbance any more than was nec
essary.
The Sun Spirit was high in the sky, and they stopped at a stream for water. It was a cool, refreshing stream that gently cascaded down from the higher plateaus and wound its way around trees and over rocks. In and out it would flow, surging at one moment and slowing in to a whirlpool the next. The water would fall from a ledge and then collect there, forming a deep pool. And in this pool they observed the small fish that were as curious of the Indians as the Indians were of them. The fish would swim out from their hiding places, only to turn sideways and look up, ready to dart at any moment if something fell into the water.
The party stopped here to drink and listen. They heard nothing but the breeze in the tops of the trees.
Wounded Eagle said, “We have only a little farther to go, and then the ground will begin to level out. We will start to see the cornfields of the village of Nunnimingo. I think we should stop at the edge of the cornfields to observe if anyone is coming or going about the village.”
The war party moved on at a slower pace now, and every foot that was picked up and put down was done so in a purposeful manner. They came to another small stream and beyond it there was the edge of the cornfield. They did not cross this stream, but went down by the side of it, circling the side of the cornfield until they could see the village.
They were greatly disturbed at the sight they saw, for in and around the village were a great many vultures and crows of all species that had come to feast. It was almost unbearable to the braves that they had to wait and watch this atrocity. They waited for the rest of the day, because if they went in and disturbed the vultures, the birds would all take flight at one time, and would surely attract the attention of anyone near the village. The afternoon was spent placing sentries around the village, so that they could signal the approach of anyone that was unwanted.
That night, when the vultures and crows had gone to roost, the war party went into the village. It was a gruesome site. Hardly anything remained of the bodies but bones, scattered over the village. The bones had been so badly separated by the animals that there were no complete skeletons that could be found. In fact, after the vultures had left the Indians had to contend with the wild dogs and the foxes. They came out at night for their feast. It was only after much chasing and running that the village was purged of all these beasts. The braves got no rest that night.
The next morning, when the sun came up, the songbirds could only be heard in the distance. It was not long before the air was again full of vultures, but now the braves had taken over the village. The vultures would only land in the distant trees, or sometimes a brave one would land on the top of the palisade. They would just sit and wait. Sometimes a higher ranked vulture would take over another's roost by flying close to him, forcing him to spread his wings and move to another branch or tree. At another time the vultures would have been comical to watch, but not now.
The braves felt very bad about what they saw; it did something to them that made them sick at heart. It was depressing to think that any human being could come to this end. It was an undignified way to die.
Wounded Eagle was in very bad spirits. The bones were unidentifiable, so he still did not know about his mother. Was she among these bones? Was she a captive living in the tribe of the Creeks as a slave? He did not know, but wanted to find out.
The braves began putting all the bones into a house that was still standing. There was nothing else to do but pile them up inside of it, and then come back and bury them later in a mass grave. They would leave a party of men here now so the animals would not desecrate the bones more than they already had.
After all the bones were moved it was getting close to dark, and the braves were individually finding places to rest for the night. Wounded Eagle and Wolf Eyes sought out a place together where they could talk things over. They built a small fire and cooked some tunchi paluska (cornbread). As they cooked, they talked.
Wounded Eagle said, “I know the Creeks are a mean people, but what would be the reason behind this?”
Wolf Eyes replied, “I would not guess at why they would do such a thing.”
“Would it have been the hunting grounds that would cause them to do this?” asked Wounded Eagle.
“Who would know but them, and it could have been a mistake,” said Wolf Eyes. “Blaming this village for something someone else did.”
Wounded Eagle said, “Would not that be a tragedy to do this because of a mistake? There must be a reason.”
Wolf Eyes said, “It would be most tragic. Would you still seek revenge if we found that to be true?”
“I don’t know, Wolf Eyes. I will have to judge that after I learn more about what happened here.”
Wolf Eyes said, “Ah, the paluska is ready.” They ate it, and it filled their stomachs and made them sleep.
Early that morning, in the twilight of dawn, Wolf Eyes was sleeping restlessly because of a dream. He was somewhere between the middle world and the underworld, and there was great turmoil there. The spirits were at odds and were agitating one another to the point of a great struggle. The spirits of the upper world were helping Wolf Eyes as he represented the people of the middle world. He was persuading the spirits of the underworld to ease off of their mischievous dealings against the people of the middle world. The trickery of the underworld spirits had all the people of the middle world at odds with each other, causing terrible war and suffering. He was in a great struggle when he slipped and fell all the way down into the depths of the underworld. He was falling... falling...when he woke up. He was sweating and frightened for a moment until he realized that it was all a dream.
He lay there thinking, not knowing where he was until he heard a moan and looked over at a lump lying by the burned out ashes of the fire. Then he remembered where he was, what they were doing and had done. The reality was almost more terrible than the dream. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to get the cobwebs out of his head.
Then he stretched and got up, looking around in the twilight of the dawn.
The lump was Wounded Eagle, who had heard in his slumber the arousing of Wolf Eyes. He turned over and stretched his arms straight up. Then he sat up looking, but still in a half daze. He rubbed his eyes and drew in a deep breath; then shook his head, trying to get awake.
“Chunkma nitaki,” said Wolf Eyes. “Ishno esh-tok Chunkma oklhili.” (Good morning. You had good night).
“Hohmi,” said Wounded Eagle, “anokaka tofa chimmi ikaiyubo ilhpokona.”(Yes, in spite of your bad dreams.)
Wolf Eyes said, “ I need water, let’s go to the stream.”
So it was that the morning started. After a swim in the small creek, they ate some blackberries they found growing close to the stream with some cornbread they had left.
The sun was up, and they started on the grim task of placing the skulls of the victims facing east in the house of the bones. When this was done, a count of the skulls revealed that some of the people must have been taken prisoners. There had been more people in the village than they found skulls. It was decided that as many as ten people could have been taken prisoners.
Wolf Eyes said, “We cannot let them remain in the hands of the Creek. The Great Spirit would be angry, and so would the spirits of the dead victims. The dead must be avenged, but first the captives must be freed.”
Wounded Eagle said, “I am in agreement with you, Wolf Eyes. We should go to the village of the Yellow Leaf to see what we can do.”
“I have to go anyway to see what the strength of the enemy is and to gain knowledge to plan the attack,” said Wolf Eyes.
“Then we will go together. Two would have a better chance than one, do you agree?”
“Yes,” said Wolf Eyes, “but no more.”
“I am ready to go,” said Wounded Eagle.
“We should not delay. I too am ready,” said Wolf Eyes.
They left without delay, letting Red Talon know what they were doing. They headed in the direction of the Yellow Leaf, but not by the well worn trail that
led by the river.