The Incredible Escape. The Adventures of Radisson 3 Page 9

  Outside the fort, the French had built a large shelter in which to serve the meal that would last all night. First, a welcoming ceremony was held inside the perimeter. All the Iroquois were now gathered by the two large fires that had just been lit. In the pale twilight, Commander Dupuys got the celebrations underway by thanking the Iroquois for coming in such numbers. He urged them to enjoy the gargantuan meal the French had prepared for their friends for Candlemas, as was their custom. Then he invited Father Le Moyne to speak.

  “You know me,” said the Jesuit. “You welcomed me as a brother many moons ago, and for that I will be eternally grateful to you. Since then, several Frenchmen have joined me in this country that we love, a country where we share your sorrows and your joys as one people. And that is why we are so happy to celebrate with you one of our religion’s biggest festivals: Candlemas. It symbolizes the divine light, the strength of the sun and the hope for better days ahead. In a moment, we will be serving up a feast that you won’t soon forget. But first, allow me to introduce Father Ragueneau, whom some of you already know. Others have never met him since he arrived here only a short time ago. Father Ragueneau was keen to share this moment with you to show how delighted he is to be living among you.”

  Radisson’s job was to watch the Iroquois’ reaction at this point. While Ragueneau took Le Moyne’s place on the little platform, Radisson saw that they were all a little taken aback by so much kindness. Even those he knew to be ferocious enemies of the French appeared flattered. Ragueneau continued the charm offensive.

  “My brothers,” he said, in a loud, booming voice. “Thank you for responding in such numbers to our invitation. Nowhere can the French count on such a precious ally as the Iroquois. I have discovered them to be a great people and today I am delighted to share with you the goodness of our God, the one you call the Great Spirit. May he bestow upon you as much power and advantage as he has given the French for generations.

  “The feast of Candlemas is one of our finest festivals: it marks the return of the light. It celebrates the glory of our God who reigns in heaven, like the sun that warms our hearts. At Candlemas, we traditionally serve round cakes to remind us of the sun you worship. These we call pancakes. We made them with the corn flour you so generously gave us. They are yellow like the sun, a symbol of our unbreakable, life-giving union.

  “But this is only a beginning. We will soon be serving all the food you love so much: roasted meat, bear fat, and smoked fish. Because we very much want to thank you for bringing peace to our peoples. Thank you, my Iroquois brothers. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now, let us light our candles to give thanks to the generosity of our God. We will now move to where the feast will be served. Let us go eat, my brothers! And may God bless us!”

  While the French lit the candles with small torches, the Jesuits took their place at the head of the procession, holding their crosses high for all to see. They walked to the shelter that had been put up against the palisade. There the ground was covered with balsam boughs and beaver pelts so that the Iroquois could sit in comfort. Three large fires had been lit before the shelter, each the same distance apart, so that the smoke would not bother the guests as the fires kept them warm. A handful of people immediately served pancakes on wooden plates.

  “Eat until you can eat no more!” Ragueneau cried. “There’s plenty for everyone, as much as you like! Celebrate the light of the world, our Jesus, our God! Enjoy your meal, my brothers!”

  The food kept on coming all night long. Heavy pots filled to the brim with meat, fish, sagamité, and fat were brought out from the kitchens. The Iroquois were both surprised and delighted. From time to time, a Jesuit would say a prayer, sing a psalm, or hold a brief sermon on the glory and power of God. Radisson checked in occasionally to make sure the guests were stuffing themselves. The Frenchmen inside the fort were given the same treatment, having been forewarned that the feast was essential to staying on good terms with the Iroquois. They had no reason to be jealous.

  Everything went as planned.

  By the early hours of the morning, not a single Iroquois could eat another bite. They had eaten their fill. Father Ragueneau spoke to them.

  “You can see just how much the French love the Iroquois. There will be more feasts like this one to celebrate our Great Spirit, other celebrations you will be invited to. But the time has come to go back to your villages. Father Ménard, Father Dablon, and I will go with you. As a token of our friendship and to show you that we respect your customs as much as you respect our own, we ask that you place the homeward journey under the protection of the spirits of your ancestors. Now relax a moment longer. Take your time. Whenever you are ready, we will trust in your chiefs and your spirits. Whenever you are ready, my brothers.”

  ***

  His legs weary from overeating, but his chest swollen with pride, the old chief Awenissera headed the procession back to the villages. His satisfaction was immense. Now it would be easier to silence those who had been more and more openly criticizing the alliance with the French. Even Takanissorens was questioning himself as he walked behind Awenissera. At last, the Jesuits were honouring their spirits. But were flattery and a good meal reason enough to forget the grave dangers the French posed to their country? Much was at stake. All things considered, there was something suspect about this abrupt change of mind. Better to continue to fight the alliance with the French. Although now the threat seemed less pressing; the advantages of them being there seemed to weigh more in the balance. He no longer felt compelled to act so urgently.

  Andoura walked ahead of Radisson and Father Ragueneau, in the group of leaders. His young friend had been telling the truth. The French were skilful and were doing everything in their power to win back the hearts of the Iroquois. But he feared it would not be enough to get those who wanted to kill or capture the French to ignore the threat of death hanging over them. Many of the more skeptical Iroquois had been absent as well. The battle was far from won.

  Most of the Iroquois in the procession had been too exhausted by the night of feasting to ponder the question. They were glad to have eaten so well and were in a rush to return home to rest. There would be time later to reconsider the pros and cons of the alliance.

  The trail that led to the village was not difficult. Even in winter, it was almost as hard and flat as a trail in summer, thanks to the comings and goings of the fur trade. Which didn’t stop Father Ragueneau getting his feet caught up in his snowshoes and falling headfirst into the snow. Fortunately, he came to no harm.

  “Careful!” Andoura and Radisson chorused as they helped him up.

  The chiefs at the head of the group stopped for a moment to inquire after the missionary. They offered to slacken the pace, but Ragueneau replied it was nothing but a moment of clumsiness and they could continue as before.

  They reached the only hilly part of the journey, where the trail edged its way along a hillside overlooking the river. Only one person could pass at a time, taking care not to slip. It was here that Ragueneau fell a second time, tumbling down the rocky slope and down onto the frozen shoreline. Once he had stopped rolling, the Jesuit let out a harrowing cry. He appeared to be seriously hurt.

  Ten Iroquois removed their snowshoes and carefully made their way down to him. When they tried to help him to his feet and back up the slope, the Jesuit’s cries grew louder. Radisson asked the Iroquois to leave him where he was.

  “What’s wrong, Father?” he asked. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere!” Ragueneau responded, his voice choked with emotion. “Ouch! Don’t touch me!”

  Awenissera and Takanissorens were concerned at the reaction of a missionary who had proven his endurance many times before. It was a terrible stroke of misfortune; no one had ever injured themselves on this stretch of trail before. Takanissorens scrambled down to see him. He gently probed at his body. Ragueneau let out a roar when he touched his right leg. Takanissorens immediately sent for a branch and a piece of cloth to hold t
he Jesuit’s leg in place. Despite the priest’s litany of complaints, he worked skilfully, and within seconds Ragueneau was back on his feet again. Ragueneau gritted his teeth as he moaned and groaned. He appeared close to fainting.

  Once he was safely back up on the trail, the missionary seemed in such pain that he no longer made a sound. His face was white. Radisson had never seen him in such a state.

  “We need to bring him back to the fort and quickly,” said Radisson. “Our surgeon will take care of him. We’ll have to carry him. He can no longer walk.”

  Takanissorens was dismayed that the calamity had struck when they had been under the protection of the Iroquois spirits. He was eager to hear what the French surgeon had to say about the injury. Almost all the Iroquois continued on to Onondaga. Takanissorens, Andoura, Radisson, and another Iroquois he did not know carried the Jesuit back to the fort.

  When they arrived, the surgeon felt Father Ragueneau’s leg and the priest screamed in pain. The surgeon, a man well used to suffering, fought back tears at the sight of the man of the cloth in such agony.

  “We’ll have to put your leg in plaster right away, Father. Your leg is broken in two places. You’ll feel better after that, I promise. It’s just a bad patch you’ll have to get through. You’ll get better. I can assure you of that.”

  Radisson translated his diagnosis for the Iroquois chiefs. It was painful, but nothing too serious. Ragueneau’s life was not in any danger. The Iroquois were partly reassured, but disappointed that the French celebrations had ended so badly for the man who had organized them.

  “I’ll come back and visit him,” said Takanissorens. “We will ask our spirits to watch over him and heal him.”

  The three Iroquois left right away to make sure the night did not surprise them on their way home. Radisson stayed by his master’s bedside to help him through this difficult time. Father Le Moyne also came to offer his friend his support while the surgeon went about making the plaster. Ragueneau managed to keep his pain under control. He remained stoical, then fell asleep with exhaustion, lying motionless in the bed the surgeon had made up for him next to his.

  ***

  The time had now come to warn all the French about the change in the Iroquois’ intentions. Since Father Ragueneau could not do it himself, the delicate undertaking fell to Commander Dupuys, Father Le Moyne, and Radisson. They had all agreed to express their hope that the peace might hold. But Radisson was under no illusions. He believed the plan should be applied in full until they returned to Montréal.

  The men gathered in the Jesuit accommodations, a place they normally did not enter. They suspected something was amiss, no doubt something to do with Father Ragueneau injuring himself the night before. The tiny room was full to capacity. Commander Dupuys and Father Le Moyne stood next to the stone fireplace, where a huge fire had been lit. Radisson sat next to them.

  “My friends,” the commander declared. “We have learned that a number of Iroquois are working to undermine our alliance with them. Some of them want to see our ruin. We organized the feast in the hopes of thwarting them. But we do not know how the situation will evolve from here. We are in danger.”

  A deathly silence fell over the stunned assembly.

  “But fear not: we have an escape plan if things get any worse.”

  “For several months now,” Father Le Moyne cut in, seeing faces harden, “Mohawk chiefs have been trying to persuade the Onondaga to go back to war with us. But they have not yet succeeded. The chiefs who remain loyal to us are keeping us informed of their every move. We hope that—”

  The Jesuit didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. The room erupted.

  “We’ll kill them!” René Dufresne cried. “I told you we couldn’t trust those Iroquois dogs!”

  “We’ll kill them before they kill us!” another cried.

  “The feast was a huge success,” Dupuys interjected. “We can still turn this around…”

  The room was again in an uproar. Men were beating the tables with their fists, cursing like sailors. Father Le Moyne intervened, waving his arms in the air.

  “My brothers! My brothers! Calm down! We are not at risk. As the commander told you, we have a plan and we are going to get ourselves out of this mess, whatever happens. Now listen up!”

  A murmur washed across the room like a wave, interrupted only by the occasional growl and exclamation.

  “Listen to us!” Father Le Moyne repeated. “We’re going to need each and every one of you if we are to come out of this with our lives. Listen to your commander!”

  Silence was gradually restored, although it was unsteady and fragile.

  “We know that the Iroquois will not attempt anything before spring, even if those in favour of war gain the upper hand!” shouted Zacharie Dupuys. “They think there’s no way we can escape from their clutches, but that’s where they’re wrong! We’ll all go back to the colony if need be, every last one of us. We’ll use our canoes and the flat-bottomed boats we’ve started building. We’ll be ready in time. They won’t be able to lay a finger on us. Just listen to our plan…”

  “We’ll attack their villages!” Dufresne cried again. “Death to the traitors!”

  “We’ll kill them all! Let’s attack!”

  Radisson climbed up onto his chair to interrupt.

  “The Iroquois will follow you to the gates of hell if you attack their villages! They will kill your children and your children’s children! Their vengeance will be without end! I know them. I lived among them. Behind every Iroquois that you kill, ten, then one hundred more will stand up and take his place, until the French have been wiped off the map. Only ignorance and anger can make you think that fifty Frenchmen stand a chance against five hundred Iroquois warriors. If you want to save your lives, listen to what we have prepared. Cunning will save us, not brute force.”

  Radisson could see the anger some of the men had for the Jesuits. They had walked them into this trap after turning a deaf ear to the men of experience who had warned them not to come. He could see them shooting daggers at Father Le Moyne. But that didn’t change the situation. Anger was a bad counsellor. Commander Dupuys tried to regain control.

  “We need you! I am your commander, and you are going to do what I tell you! If we stick together, it’s a foregone conclusion. We’ll return to the colony safe and sound, if we have to go that far. Rebels be warned: I’ll put you in irons if I have to. Saving us all depends on everyone following orders. One false step from one man among us could lead to the downfall of us all. The Iroquois have no idea we know what they’re up to. We start with an advantage over them. Allies are still defending our cause. So be quiet and listen to what we have to say. Our plan is working. It’s already underway.”

  Reason at last won out over anger. Radisson got back down off his chair. There was no need to say anything else for the moment.

  Chapter 6

  FLIGHT

  Radisson spent days going around villages with Prudhomme and Racine to meet all the missionaries and find out the latest news. Several sources confirmed that the Iroquois had decided at a grand council of the nation to rid themselves of the French once the big winter hunts were over. There was no hope of a change of heart. A majority of chiefs and clan mothers now openly showed their opposition to the Jesuits, who epitomized all they feared about the French. Officially, Radisson and his companions were there to trade. And trade was brisk. Things would have looked very different had they only been there to exchange goods. But it was their religion, too, their fort, their intrusive ways, and the illnesses the French brought with them that spread panic and had led to the Iroquois rejecting them.

  As soon as the Iroquois left the villages for their hunting ground, trade ground to a halt. While there was still time, Radisson took the opportunity to return to Onondaga to spend a few days with the Iroquois who were dear to him: Lavionkié and Andoura.

  ***

  The Turtle clan house was busy, despite the hunters’ absence. A handfu
l of Iroquois were gathered two fires down from Andoura’s. They were having a great time playing knucklebones, and now and then one of them would suddenly burst out laughing. Radisson tried to ignore the distraction.

  The previous day, messengers had come to announce that Father Ragueneau was better. It was the sign they had agreed on to launch the plan’s final phase. Radisson, who was still eager to find out just how Andoura had gotten his eagle-head knife, had realized that they had never spoken of it. At his request, Andoura got ready to tell him a story he had told many times before. Ogienda and Lavionkié, who well knew this episode of his life, stayed by his side all the same, close by the fire in a respectful silence.

  “I was a young man,” began Andoura, “a little younger than you. It was my first war expedition. I wanted to prove my courage and bring back many scalps. Our chief, who is now dead—taken by the illnesses of the white men—was a man of experience. He had gone to war several times with the nations of the west and won many victories. Shortly before we left, he had a dream he spoke of often during the expedition.”

  Sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, Andoura stared straight ahead, lost in thought, as he recalled these distant events. Radisson was hanging on his every word, hoping to shed some light on the mystery surrounding their knives.

  “Our chief had dreamt that beyond all the territories where he had been, he would find a country that was richer, more abundant in game, more fertile, and almost as beautiful as the land where our ancestors lie. He was determined to make it there, and convinced us to follow him right to the end. We paddled and hiked for days and days. Whenever we met our enemies, he ordered us to hide. We clashed with no one. Further on, he said, we would find greater spoils and better opportunities to distinguish ourselves in combat. Our nation would be proud of the land we were to discover.”

  This wonderful mirage still shone brightly in Andoura’s eyes. Radisson thought back to his expedition in the land of the Erie.