An hour later, the clans of the six great tribes-Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora-marched up the pathway to the circle of the Great Council, past trees whose gold and scarlet splendor was embellished with garlands of berries and gourds. The final clan to climb to the ceremony was led by Conawago, Sir William and his wife Molly, followed by Duncan, Sarah, Woolford, Analie, and Kuwali. The moon was rising. Torches were being lit along the path. Bowls of smoldering cedar lined the earthen amphitheater where the joyful investiture was to take place.
“Jiyathondek! Jiyathondek!” the eldest of the chieftains finally called, silencing the assembly with a call to the spirits of the forest. The other great chieftains of the League joined in the opening rituals, in which the gods were reminded of their faithful children the Haudensaunee, and the great things they had accomplished through the centuries.
The moon had arced through a quarter of the sky before the speeches were completed and Tanaqua had accepted his honor. Duncan cradled Analie against his shoulder as they finally made their way back to Johnson’s comfortable encampment. He laid her down beside Kuwali on the blankets inside Johnson’s tent, near Sir William’s own cot, rubbing each of the children on the head. The two had quickly won the hearts of those in Edentown.
As he left the tent Ononyot was waiting for him. The Mohawk motioned Sarah and Woolford out of the shadows and silently guided the three of them back into town. Only Adanahoe’s lodge remained lit with torches. Ononyot gestured them inside then turned to guard the door.
There was an unexpected heaviness in the air, a melancholy that seemed out of place in the festive night. Conawago and Tanaqua flanked Adanahoe at her fire ring. The ancient strand of wampum that had been awarded Tanaqua as a symbol of his new rank hung around his neck, but so too did a bundle of feathers and bear claws, wrapped in white ermine. The Mohawk was there not as a chieftain but as the head of the secret society that protected the ancient spirits, a shadowkeeper. With a chill Duncan saw that he had painted white and red stripes on his face, the sign of a warrior embarking on a dangerous mission.
“Jiyathondek,” Adanahoe began, calling those on the other side to come witness. At first she used the familiar words of Iroquois ritual, but then after several minutes any sign of a ritual halted and she spoke in the tone of a eulogy.
“The spirits of the forest world grow weary,” she said, “and are in danger of becoming distracted by fear and worry. It is time to find rest for the old ones, time to let them turn away from this world so they can grow strong in the next.”
Sarah suddenly gasped and straightened. “Grandmother! No! You must not!” she interrupted. Duncan looked at her in alarm. It was unthinkable that she would show such disrespect for the venerated matriarch. He stared at her, confused, and with rising fear. She stood and leaned forward, as if she might physically stop Adanahoe. “You must not do this, grandmother! The people need-”
Conawago interrupted. “The people need to know their spirits are secure,” the old Nipmuc said.
“Not like this,” Sarah pleaded. “I beg you!” There were tears in her eyes as Conawago, rising, gently pushed her back to her seat on the packed earth floor.
“I had a dream,” Adanahoe declared. “There was a cave on an island in a great lake. There were many white birches and an eagle lived in an oak atop the cave, a sentinel sent by the spirits. Conawago says he knows where that cave is, in the western lands beyond the inland sea.”
“But the people . . .” Sarah said, her voice thick with emotion. “Our own world could become so hollow. Hope is already so difficult to . . .” Her voice trailed away as tears flooded down her cheeks.
Duncan’s fear was turning to desperation. Something terrible was happening but he could not put a name to it.
“Not all go, child,” the matriarch said. “The Blooddancer is restless and needs a new home, and four of the others. The Council met through the night last night to decide which ones.”
Sarah’s hand gripped Duncan’s. Suddenly he understood why Tanaqua wore the badge of his secret office. The gods were leaving their centuries-old home with the Haudensaunee.
“It is only for a time,” Adanahoe said, forcing a smile. “Surely there will come a day when our chiefs will decide it is safe for them to return.”
Woolford’s voice trembled as he spoke. “Grandmother, I beg you to speak no more with us of this thing. Do not let Europeans know of the destination. This should be a secret only for the tribes.”
“The number of those we can truly trust grows smaller each year,” the matriarch replied. “Only a few will know, but those that do must be those who know how to turn back evil when it seeks us. You stand with us. You have bled with us, and for us. We know now that your blood and our blood comes from the same ancient source, from the oak of the forest. And it will be those of that blood who will shape the coming age.”
The honor being shown to Duncan, Sarah, and Woolford silenced all protest. They were three outsiders who would be trusted, three not from the tribes but still of the tribes. It did not include any of those from Johnson Hall, where betrayal had triggered so much death and suffering.
Only now did Duncan see that Conawago too wore a bundle of feathers, claws, and ermine fur on his arm, and his heart sank further as he realized what it signified. The old Nipmuc twisted two fingers around the bundle as he spoke now of their distant destination. There would be long rituals to perform once there, and a small, stealthy group of human shadowkeepers would be left behind to aid the eagle.
They left in the predawn greyness, a file of a dozen solemn men led by Conawago and Tanaqua, five of them carrying on their backs the special doeskin pouches in which the sacred masks were transported.
Duncan and Sarah watched from the shadows, their hearts laden with emotion. They were witnessing the retreat of a great people, for centuries the masters of the forests and guardians of the forests’ secrets. The Haudensaunee would endure but part of their hearts would be empty. They watched in silence as the last of the sacred warriors disappeared into the morning mists. Not for the first time in watching his friend depart, Duncan wondered if this was the journey from which Conawago would never return.
Sarah led Duncan back to the little lodge where Adanahoe now slept, and they sat outside the doorway in silence until the sun had cleared the top of the trees.
Their encampment was full of laughter when they finally returned. Sir William had organized a lacrosse game among the adolescents, and Analie and Kuwali had accumulated so much grime from rolling on the soft earth that they were almost indistinguishable from their Iroquois playmates. A messenger had come from Edentown with letters, and Duncan sat with Woolford as they listened to Sarah read an account from Alice Dawson.
Smiles grew on their faces as they heard how surprised Alice had been when Colonel Washington and Webb had called on her, how shocked she had been to receive from the colonel the paper that returned the plantation to its rightful owner. Gabriel’s overseers had been dismissed the following day. Ursa had taken up duties at the smithy and his first task had been to melt down all the leg irons. Alice was teaching Ursa to read and write so he could correspond with his son at Edentown. Winters had been put in charge of rebuilding the mill for Mr. Bowen. Chuga had miraculously appeared on the porch one morning, and now stayed at the manor house most days, though always leaving at dusk to sleep on the high bluff with Jahoska.
Sarah pulled a new Pennsylvania Gazette from the bundle and broke into a wide smile before handing it to Duncan. The Stamp Tax Congress so dreaded by the Krakens had been officially announced, and would soon take place in New York, with at least nine colonies attending.