Authors: K. B. Laugheed
The translator apologized for the fact that he must insert himself into this delicate conversation, and I nodded, not knowing if the apology came from the translator or Syawa. It mattered little. I felt as if I had floated outside myself at this point, and the real me was sitting at the edge of the clearing watching this weird scene unfold as if it was happening to someone else.
With his hands, Syawa explained that because of the perilous nature of the Journey, it was essential the Creature of Fire and Ice
accept
the challenge. The translator hesitated, watching Syawa’s movements closely. He then turned to me and said the Dreamer of Dreams wanted me to understand that, for the Vision to be realized, I must
choose
to go on this arduous adventure.
“Will you go with us?” Syawa’s final gesture needed no translation. He let his hands fall into his lap, awaiting my reply. His smile was confident and sure, very warm, inexplicably fond of me.
I was near panic. My mother and sister were weeping now, snuffling on each other’s shoulders. I swallowed hard and asked the translator to help me make sure I understood the terms of this request. Was Syawa saying I might decide for myself whether or not to go, and that if I chose
not
to go, I could stay with my family and suffer no ill effects as the result of my refusal?
Syawa’s answer was swift and short. I was free to go or stay, and in either case neither I nor my family would be harmed in any way. Regardless, my family members would embark on their hike to the French fort the next day.
The translator then began speaking rapidly, waving his hands about so that everyone would know what he was saying. “This is not a decision to undertake lightly,” he told me. “I myself was taken from my white family many years ago, and I long suffered the anguish of that separation. Please understand that if you go with these men, you will travel farther than anyone could follow, and you will ne’er see anyone from your family again. You will die and be reborn, your former life reduced to a fading dream.”
Syawa was still on his knees before me, but I would not look up at him, for I knew he must still be smiling with those expectant eyes. Beside me I heard Eliza whisper something, and then my mother leant across William to take my upper arm in her hand and squeeze tight. I felt more than saw Syawa tense up and heard all the spectators inhale and hold their breath as one being.
“Yer not actually considerin’ goin’ off with this puny devil, are ye?” Mother gasped, and the translator’s hands flew. “Yer the daughter of a nobleman, the great-great-granddaughter of kings, and yer of pure marriageable age! How dare ye e’en consider abandonin’ yer poor mother in her darkest hour? M’husband’s gone, the only son left me here is wounded, and yer sister has lost her man an’ boys both! ’Tis yer Christian duty to care for me the way I cared for my mother all her days. If the heathen says you may refuse him, refuse him you will, y’miser’ble slut!”
The crowd stirred as they watched the gestures of the translator. William whispered he was prepared to fight should the savages turn on me when I refused the offer. When I continued silent, Liza hissed, “Katie! D’you not see how unhinged this dark runt is? He grins like a cat night and day, he fumbles endlessly with his hands, and he boasts of wild dreams as if ’tis a badge of honor, not a mark o’ madness! How can y’e’en consider goin’ off with him?”
Mother snorted derisively. “Yer just fool enough to do this, ain’t ya, Katie? So let me tell ya what’ll happen if y’do. That little squirt there believes yer something y’know damned well yer not. ’Twill go hard on you when he realizes how wrong he was! Mark m’words, Katie—he’ll make ye pay for his mistake! And ye’ll pay dear!”
I thought of my mother’s marriage, of all the marriages I’d seen through my seventeen years. In a flash, I saw the infinite hardships of my early days, the perpetual quarrels and recriminations, the constant conflicts and endless posturing for power. I saw all the potential outcomes for my life if I stayed within the bosom of my family—the struggles, the contempt, the shame, and the greed. ’Twas all so petty, so painful, and so utterly meaningless. I believed with all my heart that Eliza was right and Syawa was most likely mad, but for the life of me I could not understand why I should choose sanity o’er madness when sanity hurt so much and madness seemed so sweet. I could feel my mother’s claws digging through my sleeve into the flesh of my upper arm, and I squirmed the same way I did when I was five and she was trying to keep me still in church. As I moved, my gaze shifted and I happened to see Syawa’s face.
He was staring at me with such warmth, such affection, such complete and utter confidence. Yes, he was short and strange and perhaps simple-minded and undoubtedly insane. But he made me feel so special, so treasured, so important. I’d ne’er felt that I mattered at all, much less that I mattered so much. Sad to say, I’d ne’er in my life felt appreciated in any way, and it was intoxicating, that feeling. I loved it. I wanted to keep feeling that way.
Besides, I ne’er could pass up a chance to torment my mother.
I came back to myself, suddenly, as if the me that had been watching these events from the edge of the forest floated right o’er the crowd and fell back into my body. I jerked my arm from my mother’s grasp to crawl over to Syawa. I knelt before him and lifted my right hand to point to my chest. Then I made a walking motion with my fingers, moving toward him. I pointed at him and nodded.
Syawa lifted his face and whooped in joy. The entire populace joined in, like a pack of wolves howling at the moon. Only my family did not participate in the celebration—well, them and Hector, who was still sitting on the mat with the elders, apparently as shocked as my mother and sister. Only when Syawa raced o’er to gabble at him in their foreign tongue did Hector finally react. I saw relief wash o’er him as he reached out to pull Syawa’s head to his, their foreheads touching for a moment in a tender testament to the bond between them.
I inhaled deeply and sighed as I turned to my family members, who were all viciously berating me for being such a goddamned fool. I smiled to myself.
I knew I’d made the right decision.
~5~
B
Y THE NEXT MORNING,
of course, I had completely changed my mind, but ’twas far too late to reconsider. All I could do was raise a trembling hand to wave good-bye as the same band of warriors who’d captured us led my family members off to the northeast. Only William returned my pitiful gesture; my mother and sister merely sneered. When they were out of sight, I slowly turned to my two strange companions, who stood awaiting me patiently. With ragged breath and eyes downcast, I followed as they set off to the west.
I was terrified. I have done many stupid things in my life, but none more foolhardy than this. What was I doing? Why was I doing it? Was I really willing to throw my life away, just to get back at my wretched mother? Come now, Katie—think,
think!
How will ye get back to Philadelphia? My mind raced, coming up with wild plans for escaping so I could either catch up with my kin or somehow return to civilization on my own. One way or another I knew I must return to Philadelphia.
But Syawa gave me no idle time to devise ill-fated plans. As soon as we set off, he veritably bounced along the trail, walking beside me first on one side, then the other, chattering all the while like a squirrel gathering fat nuts. I, of course, understood none of what he said, but I could not help but be touched by his enthusiasm.
Hector set a wearisome pace, trotting along a trail only he could see. I was young and hale and at first I thought I did an admirable job of keeping up, but after several hours of scurrying along I simply must rest. That’s when I realized Hector had actually been holding himself back for my benefit. Whilst I rested and Syawa engaged me with his non-stop blather, Hector paced impatiently, scowling, tight-lipped, at the trail ahead. Thereafter I required frequent rests, which Syawa was perfectly happy to oblige, but Hector bestowed only grudgingly.
From the start, I worried about Hector. As frightening as I found him to be, I was e’en more puzzled by him. He clearly resented my presence—but why? If he had known Syawa was looking for someone to take back to his people, why did he resent me? Did he not expect Syawa’s Journey to be successful? Or did he just not believe
I
was the person Syawa was looking for?
I had little time to spare for pondering such curiosities, as my immediate task was to learn Syawa’s language. I felt sure I could accomplish this goal quickly, as my father, who spoke five languages, had forced us all to learn Latin and French e’en as we learnt English. Tho’ my Latin was choppy, I was fairly fluent in French, for it was the language my siblings and I used whene’er we wanted to keep secrets from Mother. Because of my experience with languages, I was confident I could soon master Syawa’s savage tongue.
My confidence proved overly optimistic.
Syawa began by telling me words for things we saw along the trail—tree, cloud, rock—but I was immediately baffled when he seemed to have multiple words for most objects. Words changed, apparently at random, depending upon how the object was used, seen, or talked about, and who was doing the using, seeing, or talking. What was worse, his language was composed of sounds unlike any I’d e’er heard—stranger e’en than the weird sounds of Gaelic my gran occasionally used—and I learnt to my dismay that the mispronunciation of a single syllable could completely alter a word’s meaning. Try tho’ I might, I uttered few words to Syawa’s satisfaction. He repeated them again and again, but the nuances eluded me. Still, he remained good-natured about my efforts and was absolutely delighted by my determination.
I soon learnt it best to memorize entire phrases rather than simple words, and so I focused on those collections of sounds that meant “I must rest” or “I am hungry” or “I am ready.” In that way Syawa and I laboriously began to communicate in words at long last.
Of course, the fact that Syawa was such an indefatigable talker meant I came to understand his meaning long before I could speak myself. Whene’er we stopt, he chattered on about himself, his family, his people, and his world through slow, oft-repeated phrases and his complex vocabulary of gestures. Using small stones to represent years, he explained he was twenty-five, Hector twenty-one. I was surprised to learn they were so much older than I’d thought, but their lack of beards and body hair made them seem young. Syawa went on to make me understand how unusual it was for any of his people to undertake the sort of Journey they were on, but added with a grin that he was very unusual amongst his people in many ways. I could certainly believe
that
—he was such a peculiar fellow, I felt certain he would stand out in any crowd.
After we supt on the first night of our journey, Hector immediately went to sleep as Syawa worked hard to explain that his people were nothing like the Indians we’d just left. Instead of living in crude bark huts, for example, his people lived in spacious wooden houses more like the one in which he’d found me. He also assured me that, unlike the Indians of Pennsylvania, who achieved notoriety through war, or my own people, who acquired power through property, his people earned status by being accomplisht artisans.
I wish I could impart how daunting it was for Syawa to explain such complex concepts through naught but gestures, but he was resolute and I was eager to learn. I frowned in concentration as he painstakingly pantomimed building, carving, painting, weaving, and I nodded as I slowly absorbed his meaning. His people, I concluded, took great pride in craftsmanship.
Once he made me understand how important these refined skills were to his people, he went on to make clear, in no uncertain terms, that he, alas, did not excel at any of those endeavors. “I—not do—building, carving, painting,” he told me, shrugging in a self-deprecating way, tho’ his perpetual smile was still intact. “I think, dream—alone much. No friend—but him.” And he pointed to Hector, rolled up in his sleeping fur.
From this I deduced Syawa was a loner, an outcast, someone who did not fit very well within the world he knew, and this news only made him more appealing to me. “I—do much,” I told him, trying hard to replicate the sounds he’d made. “But I—do much alone. No friend—no him.”
Syawa’s smile flickered as he sympathized, his black eyes shining. “You—alone—not now,” he said softly. He took my hand and gestured from me to him to our joined hands. “You—me—together—forever.”
I smiled, tears in my eyes, and slowly repeated the sounds he’d made. He grinned, and for the first time in my miserable life, I had some inkling of what it was to be wanted, to be loved. I suppose that was the moment in which it finally occurred to me I might not make it back to Philadelphia after all.
• • •
As plain as I found this declaration of love to be, it was yet unclear to me whether or not Syawa now considered us to be husband and wife; save for this one romantic moment, he continued to treat me as if I were little more than a beloved sister. I had no words to inquire as to what his ultimate intentions were, but I deduced his objective must, of course, be marriage, because, after all, that’s what men and women do. I did not particularly relish the idea of being married to a savage, but, then again, I did not particularly relish the idea of being married to any man. Having no means or power to avoid it, however, I had long since concluded marriage was something which would inevitably befall me, like rotting teeth or running bowels, and I was resigned to making the best of it when it occurred. As Gran would say, “God’s Will be done.”
Thus, in the quiet times of our journey, whilst trotting through the thick forest at a pace which made all attempts at conversation impossible, I pondered what marriage to this odd fellow might mean. I had certainly ne’er imagined myself betrothed to such an unlikely candidate. His incessant smile, while decidedly pleasant, made him seem, as Liza suggested, simple-minded, and his admitted predilection for dreaming, coupled with his acknowledged inability to excel at everyday tasks, suggested he was probably going to be a poor provider. On the other hand, his smallish stature and unremarkable appearance no doubt prevented him from being promiscuous, which made me wonder if the real reason behind his quest to find a “certain woman” was simply the fact that it might require such a journey to find any woman willing to accept him.