An ancient staff, carved with symbols representing the fifty sachems, had been presented at the Grand Council along with an oration covering the Great Law. In other less tumultuous times, the staff would have then been presented at the villages of the Great Sachem who had died, at which time the traditional titles of the fifty sachems would be given along with a recitation of the Great Law. Village clans that were not of the clan that the dead Great Sachem had belonged to would then come forward, to give a special oration of rebirth, consolation, and reformation. They would also serve to aid in the task of the burial of the Great Sachem, relieving the sorrowing clan of the onerous task.
It was a grand ceremony that honored the one who had fallen, cherished the unity and bonds among the tribes, and gave hope and consolation to the grieving village. It was a tradition that brought forth the compassion and fellowship that the tribes had for each other within those of their own tribe and village. In such a dark and foreboding time, it now seemed to be an absolute necessity for the great numbers who were personally grief-stricken by the devastating attacks.
It was all very unprecedented. Never before had five sachems been struck down at once. The widespread suffering among the attacked villages, including those that had not suffered the loss of a Great Sachem, created a seemingly insurmountable task for the bringing of such a ceremony to the villages.
Clans serving to arrange for burial and make the address of rebirth for the grieving clan of a slain sachem, in turn, would be the clan attended to for the loss of their own sachem. So many had been scarred that it strained the best intentions of their traditions just to provide a little comfort and spiritual healing among their people.
While there seemed to be not nearly enough time, and too many pressing needs, the Great Sachems were resolved to try and salvage as much as they could of their traditions, and the special spirit-healing ceremony. The new members of the Grand Council, at the very least, had been raised up, and a complete, restored Grand Council could now see to the needs of the Five Realms. The most urgent of those needs was about to be addressed by the greatest among the exalted sachems: the Onan Great Sachem who held the first place on the Grand Council, Deganawida.
With a bundle of five arrows in one hand, Deganawida stood resolutely next to a raised pole, on which he had placed an elaborate belt of shells. White shells formed the outline of a man against a purple background. Within the outline of the man was a representation of a flame.
It was understood among the sachems that the image represented Deganawida’s position, as the honored sachem of the Onan in whose village the Sacred Fire had been kept. The other sachems had similar belts, with varying symbols arranged in colored shells upon them, which were cradled reverently in their hands.
He stood with a solemn expression on his face and looked to each of the other tribal sachems. By the time that he stood to address what was the most precarious matter, there was not much time before night arrived, raising another cause for concern in regards to their traditions.
Grand Councils always disbanded before dark fully settled, as the night was held to be the dominion of the Dark Brother of their sacred lore. No discussions or decisions could be made at night, the sachems believed, without the risk of the Dark Brother’s malignant influence.
With critical decisions of great magnitude facing them, Deganawida knew that another breach of long-held customs would be too much of a burden to levy upon the badly shaken men; especially one involving deep-seeded fears of the Dark Brother’s ability to infiltrate minds and hearts, and sway them to his will.
He could only hope to gain their full consensus before the shroud of night had settled into place, for even if just one of them objected there would be no decision rendered.
“We gather together, away from our villages… as if we were a council of war. There is no Council Longhouse for us to go to. The villages themselves are no longer homes, but places of danger and death,” he began in a level, strong voice, looking slowly around the full circumference of gathered sachems. “A time has come upon us that no ancestor of ours ever saw. A war is coming upon us all… it comes to destroy us… it is a matter for our war sachems… it is a matter for our Grand Council.”
He paused for a moment, letting the distressing words sink in.
“This war does not come to conquer us, and seek that we may bend our knee to a new ruler of our people. As we have rejected the Unifier, so He has decided to rid us from these lands,” he continued. “This war comes to slay every one of us, from the greatest of our warriors, to the child just born. It cannot be reasoned with. It cannot be traded with. It wishes to take our soul. Nothing less.
“I know that many of you cannot believe that this is happening. Yet it would be your death not to believe, and the death of those you love of your village, your tribe, your clans, and all of your greater family in the Five Realms.
“I know that many of you will have strong thoughts and feelings. I only hope that we may reach consensus in the manner of our great people.”
Deganawida concluded for the time being, sensing that there were some among the throng of sachems wanting to voice the thoughts in their heads and the feelings of their hearts. As he took his wampum belt up for the moment, another member of the Grand Council rose to speak.
“Deganawida, most honored sachem of the Grand Council, and of the Onan. None would dispute that you see a terrible danger. This is no easy matter for us to understand. We have had no quarrel with Gallea. We have traded the pelts of the beaver for years with them,” the new speaker stated, after hanging his own shell-belt on the pole, moments after Deganawida had taken his away.
He was a thin-featured Kanienke named Orenregowah. His antlered headdress held three prominent feathers, as did those of the other Kanienke sachems. His sharp, dark eyes held a level gaze towards Deganawida, set behind a hawk-like nose that fit well with his distinguished position as a member of the Hawk Clan.
Orenregowah continued, “They have no cause to make war upon us. They have given us the strong metal for our weapons, our arrows, and for the things of our village. We have lived alongside their lands for long ages before my father, and his father before him. There is no tale of a war with them that I know.”
Quietly, he turned to sit back down, taking his wampum belt. Deganawida arose once again, and hung up his own.
“Orenregowah of the noble Kanienke, the lack of reason is what makes this so hard to understand. There is no harm… no offense… that we have done to Gallea or to any other. We have kept our faith with them. We have traded in good faith with them, and they with us.
“An age has come when they have surrendered their will, and we have kept ours. We have rejected the Unifier. Now the price is being paid, and a greater price is yet to be paid. Your brothers and sisters in the alliance, the Onan, have lost many, many lives. My own home village has been destroyed, as have others.
“This is only the beginning. I do not wish to see our people, our brothers and sisters from any of our tribes, slaughtered in such a way,” Deganawida staunchly declared, replacing the shell-belt on the pole when finished.
The remembrance of the painful losses from the attack weighed down greatly upon his heart, riddled as it was with numerous spiritual wounds.
“What of Midragard? Do we not hold friendship and trade with them? It has been a long age since we have quarreled with them. The tales are still known among our people, but the arrow no longer flies between our peoples. They are great warriors. Do they serve this Unifier? Will they not stand with us?” a Great Sachem of the Onondowa, Shadekaronyes stated, hanging and taking down his shell-belt in the manner of the other speakers.