CHAPTER XXVIII
There was the bustle and the din of preparation in the great Castle of the Oneidas. With the first light of the morning, numerous small bands began to pour in, summoned secretly long before, to hold a war council, and to march against the enemy. Before noon larger bands began to appear, led by several of the noted warriors of the nation, and one very numerous body coming across the lake in a little fleet of canoes brought with them a great quantity of baggage in the shape of huts and provisions, with women and even children.
The scene which took place when all were assembled, in number more than a thousand, is perfectly indescribable. Nor shall I attempt to give a picture of it. A long period of peace seemed only to have given the western warriors a sort of thirst for war; and their joy at the unburying of the hatchet and the march against the enemy broke forth in demonstrations which to any civilized eye would have appeared perfectly frantic. Screaming, shouting, singing, dancing, striking the war post with their tomahawks, and shaking their rifles in the air, they seemed like beings possessed by some evil spirit--the calm and grave demeanor was altogether cast aside, and the calmest and most moderate boasted outrageously of deeds done in the past or to be performed in the coming war. About an hour after noon, however, a sudden and complete change came over the scene. In an open space before the great lodge, all the chieftains of the different totems or tribes assembled, and the usual circle was formed around the great war post of the Black Eagle. The younger warriors gathered in other rows without the first, and the youths, the women, and the children were seen beyond these again. One exception to the usual order took place. The great chief had on either side of him one of those, both of whom he now called his children. Otaitsa, in her most brilliant costume, stood upon his left, and Walter Prevost, armed and dressed like the Oneidas, with the sole difference that his head was not shaved, like theirs, remained standing throughout the ceremony, on his right.
As soon as all was quiet--and the stillness of death very soon fell over the whole multitude--Black Eagle, in a speech of powerful eloquence, related all that had occurred on the preceding night, and justified the act of himself and the other chiefs in the eyes of the people. He said that he himself and five of his brethren had been prepared to sacrifice the son of Prevost to atone for the blood of the Snake, and to satisfy the customs of the Oneidas, although they would rather have slain their own son; but that the Great Spirit had spoken by the tongue of his sister, and they had forborne. When he had done, the Old Cedar Tree rose, but uttered only a few words. "It was the voice of the Great Spirit," he said; and immediately a murmur of "Koui! koui!" ran round the assembly, in confirmation of the act.
The chief then explained to his warriors why he had that day called them around him; for although the object was already well known to all, and the news had by that time spread that the Englishmen were marching against the French upon Lake Champlain, the Indians never acted in masses without solemn deliberation; and a war speech, as they called it, was universally expected from their renowned leader. He dealt at length upon the alliance between the English and the Five Nations, upon the good faith with which the stipulations of their treaties had been maintained by the British Provinces; he referred to the talk held some six months before, at the Castle of Sir William Johnson, skilfully mingling with his discourse the names of several persons most popular with the tribes, and he ended by exhorting his hearers to show their truth and friendship toward their English brethren, and to pour down their fiercest wrath upon the French, whom he spoke of contemptuously as brethren of the Hurons and the Algonquins.
The same signs of approbation followed; and many another chief added his voice, raising the passions of the warriors to the highest pitch. One, especially, urged them to immediate action, telling them that the Mohawks had already marched, that they were with the English army, and that the faces of the children of the Stone would be full of shame if a Mohawk brought home more scalps than an Oneida.
Some were for setting out on the instant, but this proposal was overruled, and the following morning was appointed for the march to begin, as more parties were expected from the different districts, and some had not come fully prepared for the long journey and important enterprise.
The council was succeeded by scenes similar to those with which the day began, and it must not be concealed that in many instances the dreadful firewater was employed, so far as even to produce beastly intoxication. Small drums and wild instruments of music, songs of every different character, from the wailing lament or the religious chant to the fierce and boastful war song, rose from every part of, the village; and it was not till the sun had completely set that anything like quiet and order was restored. Paint it in what colors we will, it was a barbarous and terrible, though exciting scene, and Walter Prevost was well pleased to hear the noise gradually die away into low murmurs, and silence again begin to resume her reign.
Then came a very, very happy hour. He sat with Otaitsa alone, in the great lodge, while the Black Eagle wandered amongst his people without; and for the first time since his deliverance from death the two had an opportunity of pouring forth to each other the many feelings which, had accumulated in the last four and twenty hours.
"At this time last night," said the youth, "I was preparing to die."
"And at this time last night," answered the girl, gazing fondly upon his face as he sat with his arm clasped fondly round her, and her head leaning on his shoulder, "and at this time last night Otaitsa was ready to die with you. I have since thought it very wrong of me, Walter; and fearing what I did was sinful, I have prayed part of the night to God for forgiveness, and another part I have spent in praise and thanksgiving. But I believe I was mad, my beloved, for I hardly knew what I did, and followed blindly what they told me to do to rescue him for whom I would have sacrificed a thousand lives. Besides, I was surrounded by my countrywomen, and you know they do not think as we have been taught to think."
"If it was an error it was a blessed one, my own Blossom," answered Walter, "for to it I owe my life; and life, when it is brightened by Otaitsa's love, is but too precious to me. The time will come, dear one, when we shall look back upon these days as but a painful dream, and the only bright reality that will last will be the memory of my Blossom's love, and all that she has done to save and bless me."
She gazed at him believingly; for hers was not a heart to doubt, and his was not a heart to be doubted; and then she said, with a sigh: "But you are now going to battle, to risk your life and all your happiness. Still it is strange, but I would not stay you, though all I have heard from good Mr. Gore should make me look upon such things with horror, and though I would fain have you keep away from danger. I suppose it is the habits of my people still clinging about me, even with a better faith than theirs."
"Fear not, dearest, fear not," answered Walter, boldly. "No harm will happen to me, I do trust and believe, and I only leave you for a few short weeks."
"You will not leave me at all, Walter," she answered, "no, never more. I will go with you, if not to the battle, as near it as I can be. I have my father's leave; the warriors of my race will defend me, and I will not part with my recovered treasure any more."
"Go to my father's house," said Walter, joyfully. "It is very near the spot, and Edith will rejoice to have you with her."
Otaitsa fixed her eyes upon vacancy, and fell into a deep reverie; and an expression came into her face which Walter had remarked more than once before.
"Do you know, my beloved," he said, "that sometimes you strike me as very like our dear Edith, especially when you look thoughtful, as you did just now?"
"It is very natural," said Otaitsa, nestling closer to him; "you do not know that she is my cousin. My mother was your father's sister. Hush! not a word, especially in the ears of any of the tribe. My father knows it, but he will not know it, because amongst the elder people of the nation it was held contrary to our customs that cousin should marry cousin. I asked Mr. Gore long ago if it were against your law; but he said no, that it was neither against law nor religion. He inquired why I asked so earnestly," she added, laughing, "but I would not tell him. Come with me into my chamber, and I will show you many things belonging to my mother. Stay! I will light my lamp!"
Otaitsa bent down and lighted her lamp, and guided her lover up to her little chamber; and there they sat, and turned over many a long-stored treasure, and she showed him the picture of his own father, and of her mother, and of their mutual kin, and drawings of fair scenes in Europe, some of which he remembered well, with others of the land in which they then were, but of spots which he had never seen. There was one, too, left unfinished, of a young, sweet child; and Walter gazed first upon the infant face and then upon the bright, happy countenance beside him, and clasped his Blossom warmly to his breast. The book, too, with the drop of blood upon it, told its own tale to both their hearts.
"And where is Mr. Gore?" he asked, at length; "he seems seems to have left altogether his little flock, or I am sure I should have seen him during my captivity."
"He is coming back now," said Otaitsa. "My father would not let him return before. He was afraid, I believe, that the breath of the good man would melt his icy purpose. He had a power over Black Eagle that none other had. I prayed and besought in vain. But had Mr. Gore been here he would have conquered. Black Eagle knew it and feared, and therefore he sent him hence, and would not let him return till the day was past."
"Would that he were here now," said Walter, earnestly.
Otaitsa asked him why, and he answered, with a warm kiss: "That he might unite us forever."
A flush came upon her cheek, but there was the low sound of a step below, and looking down the stairs, she said: "Is that you, my father?"
"I come," said the chief; and slowly mounting the stairs, he entered the chamber where they were. His eyes roved round the room in a manner which evidently showed that it was strange to him; and then he fixed them on the pictures which lay upon the table, lighted but faintly by the lamp. At first he seemed not to distinguish what they were, but the moment he saw them clearly, he drew his mantle over his face and turned toward the door. He uttered no word, he shed no tear, but he descended slowly, and Walter and Otaitsa followed.