Savage Betrayal (34 page)

He continued, “I’m going to lead a raid on the Ahousats. Fighting Wolf will pay, and pay dearly, for what he has done to you and to our family!”

“Catlati,” she began gently, “Go carefully. Before you lead this raid, I would have you know something. I carry—“ She stopped suddenly.

There, walking slowly towards her was a small, slim woman, her thick, dark braids making her instantly recognizable. “Precious Copper!” Sarita cried. “What are you doing here?” She stared open-mouthed at the petite woman.

Precious Copper walked up to her, a dimpled smile on her face. She laid a small hand on Sarita’s forearm. But before she could say anything, Feast Giver planted a possessive hand firmly on the small woman’s shoulder and stated, “Precious Copper is my hostage. I led a rescue party down to Ahousat territory, to find you. My men and I captured her. I brought her back here intending to trade her for you. Now that you’ve returned, I’ll have to think of something else to do with her.”

Feast Giver gazed at his hostage speculatively. Precious Copper saw the look and examined the floor intently.

“Oh, Precious Copper,” murmured Sarita. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” responded Feast Giver in surprise. “Sorry? Whatever for? This woman is the sister of our enemy! Don’t waste your pity on the likes of her!”

Sarita noticed that, despite his words, Feast Giver moved to stand protectively behind the diminutive woman, his big hands clasping each of her upper arms.
Interesting
, thought Sarita. Aloud she said, “I’ll have you know that this woman saved me from a terrible life in Ahousat village. She protected me when others would have molested me.”

“Did she protect you from her brother, Fighting Wolf?” sneered Feast Giver.

Sarita’s silence spoke volumes.

“Ahh, I thought not,” responded Feast Giver.

“Nevertheless,” continued Sarita evenly, “she made my life as a slave bearable. I will not turn against her now, regardless of
who
her brother is!”

Feast Giver’s self-righteous attitude annoyed Sarita. Taking Precious Copper’s hand, she started to lead her away. “And I intend,” she stated firmly, looking back over her shoulder at Feast Giver, “to see that Precious Copper is well cared for and protected from, uh, unwanted advances.”

Feast Giver frowned at Sarita. “She’s
my
hostage,” he warned. “I’ll decide what’s to be done with her. Not you.”

“Yes, Catlati,” answered Sarita sweetly. “Weren’t you just condemning Precious Copper because she couldn’t protect me from her brother?” The question hung there between the three. Sarita seized the initiative. “Precious Copper and I have a great deal of news to catch up on.”

Smiling, Sarita led the bewildered young woman away, leaving Feast Giver to stare after them, a thoughtful frown marring his handsome face.

That evening there was a feast given in honor of Sarita’s return. It was a lavish banquet, and the whole village attended.

Towards the end of the dinner, just before the ceremonial dances and singing, Thunder Maker slowly got to his feet. He stood quietly, with dignity, as he waited for his guests’ silence. A hush fell over the crowd as they listened respectfully to what he had to say. He began in stentorian tones. “Tonight I wish to announce that I will be giving a potlatch for my daughter, Sarita. This potlatch will be to restore her name and,” here he fixed his audience with a steely glare, “my family’s name now that she is free once again.” The audience was reverentially silent. Highly edified, Thunder Maker added, “The potlatch will be held ten days from now and all are invited.”

He waited patiently for the loud cheers to die down. When the happy cries finally stopped, he continued. “In addition,” he announced importantly, “I will be sending invitations to neighboring dignitaries. All will know that Sarita is indeed a worthy Hesquiat woman. All will speak well of her after they see the wealth that I, her father, can give away on her behalf.” With these parting words, Thunder Maker exited dramatically from the feasting area.

The Hesquiat people loved such theatrics and speculated happily amongst themselves about the forthcoming potlatch. Sarita, herself, was impressed with her father’s dignity and leaned over to say so to some of her companions.

She sat with the women of her family. Spring Fern was in attendance on her right, Precious Copper on her left. Abalone Woman and Crab Woman sat nearby.

The slave woman, Cedar Bundle, was seated next to Spring Fern. Sarita smiled at the woman, now having some understanding of how Cedar Bundle’s life had changed since her arrival in Hesquiat village. The woman smiled shyly back.

Sarita sat quietly savoring the sights and sounds of her home. Replete after a satisfying meal of smoked fish, roasted fern roots, and fresh salal berries, served with the ubiquitous oil, she was content in her newfound freedom.

She had yet to speak at any length with her father, and so far had not mentioned her suspected pregnancy to anyone. She wondered how her father would take the news. Ah well, she had been through so much and survived; she would survive this too, whatever his reaction.

She idly surveyed the large feasting area. She was surprised to see how many young men were attending the feast. She wondered what brought them to her village.

She noted briefly that none of them were as handsome as Fighting Wolf. There he was again—creeping unbidden into her thoughts. Even now, surrounded by family and friends, she thought of him. Willfully, she purged him from her mind.

Her glance caught Feast Giver’s as he rose from his place and walked over to where she was sitting. “Greetings,
Umiksu
, Mother.” He nodded respectfully to Crab Woman. “Umiksu.” He nodded again to Abalone Woman. They murmured polite responses.

He squatted on his heels beside Sarita, blocking her view of the activities. “Well, sister,” he said. “Are you glad to be back home?”

For a moment, his grin reminded her of the old Feast Giver she had known, before the Ahousat raid had changed both of them.

She smiled back happily, pleased at being home, pleased at his present good humor. “I most certainly am,” she replied. “But I was wondering about something. As I looked around I see many young men—warriors—that I’ve not met before. Where do they come from?”

“Aah, Sarita, your sharp gaze misses nothing. They’re young men I’ve convinced to fight for me. Promises of wealth and fighting hold them.”

Sarita lifted one well-shaped brow. “Oh?”

“Mmmhm,” he went on to explain. “Most of these young men wish to join me in a raid on the Ahousats. For a share of the loot, of course.”

Sarita glanced at Precious Copper. Her eyes met her brother’s in a silent question. “No matter,” he said lazily. “She can’t warn her people of our impending attack. She only knows we will attack, she doesn’t know when, or how. Even Fighting Wolf must realize we’ll attack him eventually.”

He turned his gaze to Precious Copper’s. She met his unflinchingly, her chin thrust out. “Why don’t you try for peace?” she asked. “Hasn’t there been enough killing? Enough revenge?” Her musical voice was barely above a whisper. Sarita had to strain to hear her.

To Sarita’s surprise, Feast Giver appeared to give consideration to Precious Copper’s words. Before he could say anything, Sarita added, “She’s right, catlati. In war, it’s the women who suffer. Yes, I know what you want to say.” She held up a hand to stop him. “‘It’s the men who lose their lives. What can be worse than that? I’ll grant you, catlati, that to lose a life is terrible, but it’s also terrible to languish in slavery for years, as is the lot of women. To see our children, whom we love dearly, grow up in slavery, without benefit or knowledge of their rightful heritage!”

Precious Copper quickly followed Sarita’s statement. “And revenge, Feast Giver.” Here she was unaware that she touched his arm, as she looked sincerely into his eyes. “Revenge is a never-ending cycle that is waged between our peoples. Winning is only temporary. The victors congratulate themselves and parade around with their victims’ heads. They lord it over their slaves, savoring their ‘win.’ Then what happens?”

She leaned forward, intent. “They, the mighty victors, are attacked by the very people they had vanquished! The humiliated, desperate losers who will do anything to revenge themselves, anything to ‘win.’ The cycle of hate and murder becomes ever more ferocious and intense.”

There was a brief silence after her words; all who heard her could not doubt her sincerity. Crab Woman broke the spell with a grunt. “Hmmph. Easy for her to say. Her people aren’t the ones being slaughtered.”

Feast Giver addressed Precious Copper as though Crab Woman had not spoken. “Why didn’t you tell Fighting Wolf your wise words? He’s the one who’s after revenge. He’s the one who’s so ferocious.”

Precious Copper dropped her eyes. “Please believe me when I say I honestly didn’t know his plans. I only learned of them after he brought your sister back to our village.” She looked at him again, earnest entreaty evident in her dark eyes. “But I can tell you this: I’ll do everything I can to bring about peace between our peoples. There’s been enough killing, enough families destroyed.”

Crab Woman interrupted again. “Hmmph. She says that because it is
our
turn for vengeance! She’s afraid for her precious brother!” Crab Woman spat; the thick spittle landed on Precious Copper’s bare knee.

Precious Copper, disgust rippling across her pretty face, rubbed some dirt from the floor on the mess, then scraped it off her leg. She looked at Feast Giver, impatient for his answer to her pleas.

“Your words are well-spoken,” Feast Giver conceded reluctantly. “I am convinced you are sincere in what you say. However, Fighting Wolf is the one you must convince. You say yourself you didn’t know of his plans for revenge. Obviously, he doesn’t think the same as you on this subject. He is, after all, the one who started this war.”

“Not so,” disagreed Precious Copper. “He’d argue that your people, the murderers of his father, and mine, were the ones to start this war.” She looked fully at Feast Giver, trying to gauge the effect of her words.

He was staring at her, anger flushing his countenance. Undaunted, she continued, “Fighting Wolf would argue that he’s obliged to revenge his father’s death. By the beliefs of my people, and yours, that’s a noble thing to do.”

“Enough!” roared Feast Giver. “First you sit with my sister and I, you eat our food, then you call us murderers! And all the while you defend that murdering worm you call ‘brother’! Enough, I say! Get from my sight!”

“The ingrate!” added Crab Woman. “She should be made a slave. That will shut her mouth quickly!”

Precious Copper got shakily to her feet. Her whole body was trembling. But before she left, she was determined to finish her speech. Hurriedly, afraid he would not listen to her words, she added, “I didn’t intend to anger you. I was trying, ineffectually it appears, to point out that your people were not the only ones to suffer grief. I want to end this fighting, not add to it! If I, who have lost a father, can say ‘no more fighting,’ why can’t you also put aside your revenge? You have your sister back from slavery. You have a father who’s still alive!” Precious Copper turned and fled from his presence.

“Alive, yes,” muttered Crab Woman savagely. “No thanks to her, or that Ahousat dog she calls ‘brother’!”

Feast Giver turned his angry gaze on Sarita. “Too bad she didn’t say such fine words to her bloodthirsty brother!” he spat. “I let her get away with too much.”

Crab Woman nodded, agreeing emphatically. She grunted as Abalone Woman’s sharp elbow jabbed her soft stomach.

“Just what is her status here?” interjected Sarita calmly. “Is she a slave?” Sarita did not want to anger her brother further. Whether to fight or not was such a complicated decision and she knew he would do what he wanted regardless of what she, his sister, had to say.

“A slave?” repeated Feast Giver, focusing his gaze on Sarita. “No. She’s not a slave. More like a hostage.”

“She should be a slave,” snorted Crab Woman, still sitting behind them.

“Shhh,” cautioned Abalone Woman, trying to keep the peace.

“What,” responded Sarita, “are you going to do with her now that I’ve returned? You no longer need a hostage.”

Feast Giver looked at Sarita. For a moment, he reminded her of a lost little boy. “I don’t know,” he answered at last. “When she isn’t making me angry,” he acknowledged wryly, “I like having her around.”

Glancing at Crab Woman and Abalone Woman out of the corner of his eye, he added, “She’s useful, too.” He gestured around the main area. “See the new woven mats on the walls? Precious Copper did that,” he said proudly. “She organized some of the slave women and made the designs herself.” He paused. “In fact, she’s been busy ever since she got here. Precious Copper’s always helping Abalone Woman and Cedar Bundle with their herb and medicinal plant collection.”

Another snort came from Crab Woman. “Hmmph. Poor designs. They look Kwakiutl to me. And she’s not that busy. I had to tell her what to do and who to organize!”

“She plays with the children,” continued Feast Giver, as if he had not heard Crab Woman’s comments. “She’s up early, lighting the fire, getting the household started. And she’s always cheerful.” He paused again. “Except when she’d defending that foul brother of hers!”

“Come, Crab Woman,’ said Abalone Woman patiently. “You must be tired after organizing this lovely banquet. Let’s leave these two to catch up on their news.” With that, she got to her feet, followed by a grumbling Crab Woman. Spring Fern and Cedar Bundle got to their feet also, bade Sarita good night, and went to their respective quarters.

There were still people seated nearby, but Sarita knew that if she and Feast Giver kept their voices low, they would not be overhead. “Are you really not sure what to do with Precious Copper, catlati?” she asked softly. When he didn’t respond, she added, “You could let her go back to her people.”

“Let her go?” echoed her brother incredulously.

“I’m serious,” she answered. “What good does it do to keep her? You have the young men you need to make your raid. You don’t need her. You’re too noble to make war on women and children. Aren’t you?”