Chapter Twenty-Eight
The day before, while Owliktuk and the other ten men in the band, armed with spears and war clubs, went off together to take revenge for the murder of Unaleq, Hekwaw was left behind in disgrace with only the women, children, and a few old people to share his loneliness and misery.
After the shaman’s body was brought back into the village, he had been so full of shame and distress at his part in the disaster that he’d confessed everything to his father.
At the time, he felt he couldn’t hold it in any longer; the secret was like a deadly poison spreading inside him, and the only way, he thought, to free himself from it was to talk and be completely honest, to not hold anything back or pretend things were better or different than they really were.
He soon realized, though, that he had made an awful mistake.
He had thought his father would be angry for a while but would also understand his reasons and even think him brave for admitting to his error, but in fact, his father’s rage and disappointment were far beyond anything he had imagined possible.
When Owliktuk realized what Hekwaw had done in leading the Englishmen to the yellow rock in exchange for more iron, he told him outright that his stupid and selfish actions were the direct cause of Unaleq’s death.
“You’re responsible,” he said. “If you’d only done what we all agreed to do, then the Indians and white men wouldn’t be here anymore and Unaleq would still be alive.
You thought you knew better than everyone else, that you were clever enough to play a trick that no one would discover, and now look what’s happened.
Unaleq, the wisest man and the best shaman I’ve ever known, the same man who saved your son’s life, has been murdered, and now I have no choice but to lead a war party because if I don’t, we might all be killed in our beds. ”
Hekwaw tried his best to apologize, to admit how very foolish he had been and to promise that he would never go behind his father’s back again.
But nothing he said made any difference at all.
In fact, his pleading only seemed to make his father angrier and more resolute.
After he’d listened to all the excuses and expressions of remorse, Owliktuk told him plainly, with a sudden terrifying calmness, that someone so reckless and dishonest was a danger to the whole band.
“After what you did, we know you can’t be trusted,” Owliktuk said.
“And a man who can’t be trusted is a constant danger to everyone around him.
You need to take your family away from here, Hekwaw, and live somewhere else on your own, or with other people instead of us, because what you did is much more than an accident or a mistake; it’s a sign of your true character.
It means you’re a liar through and through, and we can’t have a liar living among us because even though you tell me now you’re sorry and won’t do it again, we know you will because you can’t stop yourself. ”
After she heard about this sudden threat of banishment, T?glik turned pale and started weeping, but when Hekwaw reached out to comfort her, she angrily pushed him away and started calling him a wastrel and a great fool.
Even his mother, who was usually so gentle and forgiving, when he asked her for help, just shook her head sternly and told him to accept his punishment with good grace because it was no more than he deserved.
Hekwaw had never heard of anyone being driven away by their own family.
At first, he was so confused by what had happened that he just sat there in the camp empty-headed and despairing, staring off into space.
Eventually, once the war party had been gone for a while and he was able to calm his mind a little and see everything more clearly, he decided that it was still possible that his father would relent given more time.
If they get their revenge, he thought, and everyone knows the danger is passed, maybe he’ll realize that what I did wasn’t really so bad after all.
He has a hot temper sometimes, everyone knows that, but he’s not cruel or vindictive.
If I look humble enough and ask for mercy, then maybe he will change his mind.
When the war party returns, though, Hekwaw can see right away that things haven’t gone completely according to plan.
Even though they’re laden down with loot, instead of looking triumphant, they seem downcast and pensive.
When he asks Katelo what has happened, his friend explains that they attacked the camp and killed two Indians as they slept, but the other Indians and the Englishmen weren’t there.
“Your father’s very worried,” Katelo says. “He thinks that when they find out what we’ve done, they’ll come after us.”
“I thought I might try talking to him again to remind him how sorry I am. I was hoping he might see things differently now.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, not yet. He has too much on his mind. Some of the men are saying we should abandon the camp completely and go farther north, and others are saying we should send the women and children away but the rest of us should stay here to fight.”
“I’m in a terrible state, Katelo. Look at me. If I can’t talk to my father, what can I do?”
“Stay as you are for now; keep quiet and wait to see what happens. That’s my best advice. When this trouble blows over, he might well take back all the things he said, or some of them at least, but for now you’re the last thing he needs to worry about.”
Hekwaw reluctantly accepts his friend’s suggestion and stays apart with the women and the old men.
He keeps his bow and arrow and his hunting spear close beside him, though, because it strikes him that if the Englishmen do attack unexpectedly and he demonstrates his bravery by fighting back against them, then his father might begin to look at him in a different light.
Talking doesn’t seem to help much, he thinks, but if he sees I’m ready to spill blood and risk my own safety for the sake of the band, then he’s bound to change his mind about the banishment.
As the hours pass, Hekwaw becomes so convinced that fighting and killing is the best way to impress his father that, even though he’s not aggressive by nature, he begins to look forward to the coming battle.
And so, later on that day, when he learns that the Englishmen have let it be known that they wish to make a truce and his father is going off to speak to Hearn to settle the details, instead of being relieved as the others are that all-out war is going to be avoided, he is disappointed and even a little angry that his best chance to prove himself appears to have been lost.
A mile east of the village, Hearn waits for the chieftain.
At his own insistence, he’s alone and unarmed, but Shaw and Walker, their muskets at the ready, are watching on from a short distance away.
When Owliktuk arrives with two companions, looking weary but determined, he doesn’t trouble himself with any preliminaries but starts complaining straightaway about the murder of Unaleq.
Hearn listens respectfully, and when Owliktuk has finally finished talking, he explains as best he can that Nabayah, the Indian who committed the murder, is already dead.
But Owliktuk shows no interest in Hearn’s explanation.
“Unaleq was a great shaman. He warned me that your arrival would bring misery and disaster to my people, and he was right.”
The way he speaks is brisk and belligerent. He must know they are all in danger, Hearn thinks, but even so, he doesn’t want to demonstrate any weakness or doubt.
“We don’t mean you any harm,” Hearn says. “You and I can make peace now so there’s no need for anyone else to suffer or die.”
“The best way to make peace is for you to go away. Go south back to the woods where you belong.”
“If you return our iron now and let us finish collecting the yellow rock, then we’ll leave in another month, I promise.”
“A murderer’s promises are not worth much.”
“I am not a murderer and neither are my friends. The murderer is dead, so you have nothing to fear.”
“We’re not afraid. We killed two already, and we can kill the rest if we need to.”
Hearn waits a moment, letting this foolish threat, unanswered, hang in the air between them. Then he points back to where Shaw and Abel Walker are watching.
“We have guns,” he says calmly. “Look over there. I know the Esquimaux are brave and strong, but if we fight, many people will die. It’s better for everyone if you and I make an agreement.”
Owliktuk holds Hearn’s gaze for a second or two longer, then turns away and starts conferring with the other men. After a few minutes, he steps back and speaks to Hearn in a quieter, more conciliatory tone.
“Just one month?” he says. “Is that what you promise us?”
“If you give the iron back, then, yes, we will be gone within a month.”
“Come to the village now and we will give you the iron, but tell your friends over there to leave the guns behind.”
“They won’t agree to leave the guns behind unless you throw away your spears and arrows also.”
Owliktuk shakes his head a little and almost starts to smile.
“Are they scared of us?”
“As much as you are scared of them.”
“We won’t give up our spears.”
“Then we must all learn to trust each other again,” Hearn says. “For this brief time at least.”