11
Abagail and Skenan traveled by night, avoiding the enemy’s scouts by using stealth and a constant awareness of the environment. Following along after Skenan, and, after many trials of running into him when he had stopped suddenly, Abagail had learned quickly how to read his movements, knowing by some sixth sense when he was about to abruptly stop. Abagail had also come to know when to remain silent and so to refrain from speaking to him, until at last, Skenan commanded her to speak...which was almost never. And so it was in this way they passed the evening hours by slinking across the forest—bent over at the waist—as though they were one of the forest’s shadows.
Nor were they traveling a mere few hours during the night hours only. Indeed, they were spending all of the evening hours, the deeper gloom of night and the early hours of morning sneaking through the woods, slowly and carefully, stepping lightly so as to not tramp on a stick or to cause any other noise. It was a slow and sluggish way to travel, but necessary.
They slept by day in some concealed place: a large hollowed-out log or a sunken spot in some large tree, or, when they could, they would make their beds within a strand of willow trees or bushes, one of the two of them sleeping while the other stood watch. Once, when it had rained, they had been forced to put together a crude, but satisfactory shelter, Skenan being careful to landscape around the tiny structure to make it appear as though it were a part of the environment. Again, they had traded the watch, one of them keeping awake and alert while the other slept.
Abagail was becoming accustomed to falling into an exhausted sleep. She was also growing more familiar with Skenan’s habits. For one, she had thought it odd to see how often Skenan thought it necessary to bathe, utilizing whatever stream was available to them.
Also, he demanded she do the same. Of course, they bathed separately and privately, one of them keeping watch so the other might wash in a secluded and secure place. And, this they did, both in the morning before they slept and in the evening in advance of them setting out upon the trail.
Abagail had asked Skenan about this habit, if only because she had heard from the men who frequented the inn that the Indians were dirty creatures, and this was obviously not so. So, finding this gossip to be a lie, Abagail had asked Skenan about it, wondering why Skenan insisted they both bathe twice a day, especially when her habit, before knowing Skenan, had been to bathe once a week. His answer had been surprising.
She remembered the look of humor in his eyes when he had glanced at her oddly, before saying, “We Iroquois scouts can smell a white man even at a distance. White men do not bathe every day, and because we know the scent of an unwashed body, it allows us scouts to know when a white man is close to us. It is this scent, too, which allows us to avoid him, if we need to do so. Animals can smell a man, also, and will run away from him. So, if a man is to go on the hunt for food, he must first wash his scent from his clothing and from his skin.”
Abagail had been speechless, not only because of the wisdom of these scouts, but also because she was starting to realize the joy of frequent bathing. In truth, she found herself wishing the white men in these parts could make the Oneida’s hygiene regimen one of their own.
Indeed, she could recall many times when the men at the inn were negligent in their hygiene, making it difficult for Abagail to work around them, so unpleasant was the scent upon their persons. But, there was another pleasantry of getting to know more about Skenan: each day she was rocked to sleep by the fragrant scent of Skenan’s presence on all their things, from his clothing to the buckskin bags and even each tool and weapon. The aroma was both masculine, woodsy and sweet at the same time, and it was his fragrance on the blankets she pulled up over herself when she, at last, settled down to sleep.
It was a small detail, true, but it comforted her. And, truth be told, she was beginning to wonder what her life was going to be like when they, at last, reached Fort Stanwix and had to part. Somehow, although their knowledge of one another was only several days old, she was coming to a realization of how empty her life would be without him.
And yet, they must part; he to his world and she back to the drudgery of life as an indentured servant. She knew it was so, but she refused to acknowledge it at this present moment. Indeed, she was determined now to enjoy every moment she had with Skenan.
She sighed. Perhaps he might visit her at the inn from time to time.
Perhaps. But, it would not be the same.
Though it was impossible, she began to wish their trek to Fort Stanwix could be extended. But, she knew it was only wishful thinking. It was also unkind to Mr. Wilson, who had saved her from Miss Stockenridge and who had asked her to hurry to Fort Stanwix.
Midstride, Skenan stopped so suddenly that she, who was following him and who could usually read his thoughts, bumped straight into him.
His whisper was commanding as he said, “You must hide…there.” He pointed toward a strand of bushes. “Now! And, make no noise.”
When she hesitated, he said, “Go there now! No noise. No thinking.”
A brief nod was all she gave him to let him know she had understood him, but she wasn’t sure he’d seen it. His attention was fixated on the environment. And, then she saw the danger. There was another warrior only a short distance away from them.
Slowly, Skenan placed an arrow to his bow and pulled back on the string. And, then he spoke up loudly, his voice imposing, but what it was he said, she might never know. He was speaking in the language of the Iroquois.
The warrior answered him in what appeared to be the same language. There followed, then, a conversation between the two men, resulting in Skenan loosening his grip on his bow string and letting the arrow drop into a non-threatening position.
As the two men came closer and faced each other, Skenan reached out to place a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. The other warrior did the same. Then, murmuring a few more words from each man to the other, the warrior turned and headed in an opposite direction to their own.
Skenan, however, took no action whatsoever. He stood as though he were uncertain of how to proceed. Without looking in her direction, he said in English, “You are to remain exactly where you are, and you are not to stir about, speak or present yourself in any way. Though I do not doubt the truth of what the enemy’s scout told me, because you are with me, I would be sure. He is Mohawk, and he is a scout for the English king’s soldiers. He told me his path is back to Saratoga.
“I, however, must ensure he was speaking the complete truth to me, because we, as scouts, are to give wrong information to an enemy, and, in this war, we are enemies. Although we scouts honor one another to do no harm to each other, I would be certain before I allow you to present yourself. I will wait to see if he, indeed, goes on his way to Saratoga or if he comes back here. You are not to stir. You are to barely breathe.”
And, so saying, Skenan sat down with his back to a tree and proceeded to inspect his musket. He waited, but only for a few moments.
He was soon up again, and then he was gone from her view. And, Abagail could only surmise about where he was going. Perhaps he was following the other scout’s trail.
As she waited, Abagail pulled her knees in toward her body, and bending, she slept. When Skenan, at last, stepped in close to the bushes where she was hidden, she looked around the environment to see dawn was on the horizon in the eastern sky.
But, Skenan did not look calm nor happy as he commanded, “When I say ‘now,’ you are to jump up and we will run to a tree I have picked out that is not easy to climb, but is a tree to hide us. It is there where we will wait to see if I am right. I believe there is an army approaching us. I can smell them, and I think the scout I spoke to last night is carrying a message to British soldiers who might, even now, have laid siege to Fort Stanwix. When I was last at the fort, there was a report of the enemy camping close to an Oneida village. It was then believed this enemy force intended to surround and capture Fort Stanwix. Thus, while I was still at the fort, Colonel Gansevoort sent a message I and another scout carried to General Hermiker’s militia forces, who were then camped close to Saratoga. The colonel asked for reinforcements to be sent to Fort Stanwix.
“This is why the battle at Oriskany was fought, because the enemy’s scouts learned of Colonel Gansevoort’s attempt to bring in reinforcements to repel the enemy. It now appears, however, that the American militia lost this fight at Oriskany. And, if the battle was lost, it would allow the British forces to return to the fort and reinforce the enemy’s siege of the fort.”
“And, the scout you spoke to tonight?” she asked.
“I believe the enemy scout is carrying information on how the battle went at Oriskany. I believe this because this scout’s path carried him only a little way toward Saratoga before he turned back in a direction which would bring him to the siege at Fort Stanwix. I think he carries news of the enemy’s victory at Oriskany to St. Leger—the man who commands the enemy’s siege against the fort.”
Skenan paused, his brow drawn into a frown. “It is now important for you and I to get to the fort even more quickly than I had, at first, envisioned. They must be informed of the result of the battle and take measures to fortify themselves."
“Still,” Skenan continued, “it is concerning to me, because the enemy scout I spoke to last night is Iroquois, as I am, also. I call him ‘enemy,’ and yet we are brothers. But, in this war, he is Mohawk and he is aligned with the British, and I am aligned with the Patriots. And so, the enemy scout lied to me, we who are brothers. I understand why he misinformed me, but I do not like it. It is as though this war is tearing the Iroquois and our confederation apart.” He sighed before asking, “Are you ready to run to the tree?”
“I am,” she whispered.
“NOW!”
Skenan pulled her up from out of the bushes and helped her to her feet. “We must run fast before the army and the scout from last night comes back to this spot. Do you see the tree ahead of us?” He pointed to it.
“I am to climb that? How?” she asked in a whisper.
“I will help you. Now, run fast!”
As he had promised, Skenan shimmied up the tree to a stout limb, then he bent over and offered his hand to her. And, when she put her hand into his, he pulled her up onto the limb.
He said, “I must erase our trail quickly and then discover the truth of the fight by coming in close to the enemy. Climb up as high as you can. I will join you there as soon as possible.”
She nodded.
“If I do not return here by tonight, know that I am not able to do so. Go you toward the setting sun in a straight line from here. You will easily find the fort in this way. Go immediately to the commander and give him the locket you carry. Do you understand?”
“I do, but I want to come with you, protect you!”
Amazingly, he grinned at her. He said, “I will remember you wished to protect me. Now, climb, and climb up high enough so if they look up, they will not see you.”
“I want to come with you!” she said.
But, he merely grinned at her again before, jumping to the ground, he tore away from the tree and ran into the woods, taking a northeast direction.