The Incredible Escape. The Adventures of Radisson 3 (9 page)

“At your service, Father.”

Before leaving the village, Radisson passed by to say hello to Andoura and make sure he was bringing as many people as possible to the party. He knew that Lavionkié and Ogienda would not be coming. Andoura was already close enough to the French as it was. There was no need to fan the flames.

They walked out of their way to avoid passing in front of the Bear clan house. Even though Radisson would have liked to visit Mahatari and Ononta, he feared the shaman might discover his secret. He had started avoiding their house and took care not to bump into them in the village.

***

At the head of the procession making its way to the fort, Father Ragueneau held up a wooden cross as he chanted in prayer. The Jesuit had placed the procession under the protection of the Great Spirit of the French. The fifty or so Iroquois who followed one behind the other seemed impressed by the ritual, if a little suspicious. The feast would comfort them.

The gate to the fort opened wide to welcome them. Commander Dupuys, dressed in his finest clothes and wearing high leather boots, with a sword in his belt and a feathered hat on his head, kept to the centre of the group. Two Jesuits and several other Frenchmen surrounded him to form a guard of honour. Radisson was pleased to see so many Iroquois had turned out, given how few allies they still had left in Onondaga. As Ragueneau had asked, he was posted by the entrance, handing out small candles.

“You will light them shortly to seek the favour of our Great Spirit. Come in. The celebrations are just getting started.”

He had done the same thing the night before, when two small groups of Iroquois had arrived from the two villages where Father Ménard and Father Dablon lived permanently. Father Frémin and Father Le Mercier had been deemed to live too far away to take part in the celebrations.

Outside the fort, the French had built a large shelter in which to serve the meal that would last all night. First, a welcoming ceremony was held inside the perimeter. All the Iroquois were now gathered by the two large fires that had just been lit. In the pale twilight, Commander Dupuys got the celebrations underway by thanking the Iroquois for coming in such numbers. He urged them to enjoy the gargantuan meal the French had prepared for their friends for Candlemas, as was their custom. Then he invited Father Le Moyne to speak.

“You know me,” said the Jesuit. “You welcomed me as a brother many moons ago, and for that I will be eternally grateful to you. Since then, several Frenchmen have joined me in this country that we love, a country where we share your sorrows and your joys as one people. And that is why we are so happy to celebrate with you one of our religion's biggest festivals: Candlemas. It symbolizes the divine light, the strength of the sun and the hope for better days ahead. In a moment, we will be serving up a feast that you won't soon forget. But first, allow me to introduce Father Ragueneau, whom some of you already know. Others have never met him since he arrived here only a short time ago. Father Ragueneau was keen to share this moment with you to show how delighted he is to be living among you.”

Radisson's job was to watch the Iroquois' reaction at this point. While Ragueneau took Le Moyne's place on the little platform, Radisson saw that they were all a little taken aback by so much kindness. Even those he knew to be ferocious enemies of the French appeared flattered. Ragueneau continued the charm offensive.

“My brothers,” he said, in a loud, booming voice. “Thank you for responding in such numbers to our invitation. Nowhere can the French count on such a precious ally as the Iroquois. I have discovered them to be a great people and today I am delighted to share with you the goodness of our God, the one you call the Great Spirit. May he bestow upon you as much power and advantage as he has given the French for generations.

“The feast of Candlemas is one of our finest festivals: it marks the return of the light. It celebrates the glory of our God who reigns in heaven, like the sun that warms our hearts. At Candlemas, we traditionally serve round cakes to remind us of the sun you worship. These we call pancakes. We made them with the corn flour you so generously gave us. They are yellow like the sun, a symbol of our unbreakable, life-giving union.

“But this is only a beginning. We will soon be serving all the food you love so much: roasted meat, bear fat, and smoked fish. Because we very much want to thank you for bringing peace to our peoples. Thank you, my Iroquois brothers. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now, let us light our candles to give thanks to the generosity of our God. We will now move to where the feast will be served. Let us go eat, my brothers! And may God bless us!”

While the French lit the candles with small torches, the Jesuits took their place at the head of the procession, holding their crosses high for all to see. They walked to the shelter that had been put up against the palisade. There the ground was covered with balsam boughs and beaver pelts so that the Iroquois could sit in comfort. Three large fires had been lit before the shelter, each the same distance apart, so that the smoke would not bother the guests as the fires kept them warm. A handful of people immediately served pancakes on wooden plates.

“Eat until you can eat no more!” Ragueneau cried. “There's plenty for everyone, as much as you like! Celebrate the light of the world, our Jesus, our God! Enjoy your meal, my brothers!”

The food kept on coming all night long. Heavy pots filled to the brim with meat, fish, sagamité, and fat were brought out from the kitchens. The Iroquois were both surprised and delighted. From time to time, a Jesuit would say a prayer, sing a psalm, or hold a brief sermon on the glory and power of God. Radisson checked in occasionally to make sure the guests were stuffing themselves. The Frenchmen inside the fort were given the same treatment, having been forewarned that the feast was essential to staying on good terms with the Iroquois. They had no reason to be jealous.

Everything went as planned.

By the early hours of the morning, not a single Iroquois could eat another bite. They had eaten their fill. Father Ragueneau spoke to them.

“You can see just how much the French love the Iroquois. There will be more feasts like this one to celebrate our Great Spirit, other celebrations you will be invited to. But the time has come to go back to your villages. Father Ménard, Father Dablon, and I will go with you. As a token of our friendship and to show you that we respect your customs as much as you respect our own, we ask that you place the homeward journey under the protection of the spirits of your ancestors. Now relax a moment longer. Take your time. Whenever you are ready, we will trust in your chiefs and your spirits. Whenever you are ready, my brothers.”

***

His legs weary from overeating, but his chest swollen with pride, the old chief Awenissera headed the procession back to the villages. His satisfaction was immense. Now it would be easier to silence those who had been more and more openly criticizing the alliance with the French. Even Takanissorens was questioning himself as he walked behind Awenissera. At last, the Jesuits were honouring their spirits. But were flattery and a good meal reason enough to forget the grave dangers the French posed to their country? Much was at stake. All things considered, there was something suspect about this abrupt change of mind. Better to continue to fight the alliance with the French. Although now the threat seemed less pressing; the advantages of them being there seemed to weigh more in the balance. He no longer felt compelled to act so urgently.

Andoura walked ahead of Radisson and Father Ragueneau, in the group of leaders. His young friend had been telling the truth. The French were skilful and were doing everything in their power to win back the hearts of the Iroquois. But he feared it would not be enough to get those who wanted to kill or capture the French to ignore the threat of death hanging over them. Many of the more skeptical Iroquois had been absent as well. The battle was far from won.

Most of the Iroquois in the procession had been too exhausted by the night of feasting to ponder the question. They were glad to have eaten so well and were in a rush to return home to rest. There would be time later to reconsider the pros and cons of the alliance.

The trail that led to the village was not difficult. Even in winter, it was almost as hard and flat as a trail in summer, thanks to the comings and goings of the fur trade. Which didn't stop Father Ragueneau getting his feet caught up in his snowshoes and falling headfirst into the snow. Fortunately, he came to no harm.

“Careful!” Andoura and Radisson chorused as they helped him up.

The chiefs at the head of the group stopped for a moment to inquire after the missionary. They offered to slacken the pace, but Ragueneau replied it was nothing but a moment of clumsiness and they could continue as before.

They reached the only hilly part of the journey, where the trail edged its way along a hillside overlooking the river. Only one person could pass at a time, taking care not to slip. It was here that Ragueneau fell a second time, tumbling down the rocky slope and down onto the frozen shoreline. Once he had stopped rolling, the Jesuit let out a harrowing cry. He appeared to be seriously hurt.

Ten Iroquois removed their snowshoes and carefully made their way down to him. When they tried to help him to his feet and back up the slope, the Jesuit's cries grew louder. Radisson asked the Iroquois to leave him where he was.

“What's wrong, Father?” he asked. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere!” Ragueneau responded, his voice choked with emotion. “Ouch! Don't touch me!”

Awenissera and Takanissorens were concerned at the reaction of a missionary who had proven his endurance many times before. It was a terrible stroke of misfortune; no one had ever injured themselves on this stretch of trail before. Takanissorens scrambled down to see him. He gently probed at his body. Ragueneau let out a roar when he touched his right leg. Takanissorens immediately sent for a branch and a piece of cloth to hold the Jesuit's leg in place. Despite the priest's litany of complaints, he worked skilfully, and within seconds Ragueneau was back on his feet again. Ragueneau gritted his teeth as he moaned and groaned. He appeared close to fainting.

Once he was safely back up on the trail, the missionary seemed in such pain that he no longer made a sound. His face was white. Radisson had never seen him in such a state.

“We need to bring him back to the fort and quickly,” said Radisson. “Our surgeon will take care of him. We'll have to carry him. He can no longer walk.”

Takanissorens was dismayed that the calamity had struck when they had been under the protection of the Iroquois spirits. He was eager to hear what the French surgeon had to say about the injury. Almost all the Iroquois continued on to Onondaga. Takanissorens, Andoura, Radisson, and another Iroquois he did not know carried the Jesuit back to the fort.

When they arrived, the surgeon felt Father Ragueneau's leg and the priest screamed in pain. The surgeon, a man well used to suffering, fought back tears at the sight of the man of the cloth in such agony.

“We'll have to put your leg in plaster right away, Father. Your leg is broken in two places. You'll feel better after that, I promise. It's just a bad patch you'll have to get through. You'll get better. I can assure you of that.”

Radisson translated his diagnosis for the Iroquois chiefs. It was painful, but nothing too serious. Ragueneau's life was not in any danger. The Iroquois were partly reassured, but disappointed that the French celebrations had ended so badly for the man who had organized them.

“I'll come back and visit him,” said Takanissorens. “We will ask our spirits to watch over him and heal him.”

The three Iroquois left right away to make sure the night did not surprise them on their way home. Radisson stayed by his master's bedside to help him through this difficult time. Father Le Moyne also came to offer his friend his support while the surgeon went about making the plaster. Ragueneau managed to keep his pain under control. He remained stoical, then fell asleep with exhaustion, lying motionless in the bed the surgeon had made up for him next to his.

***

The time had now come to warn all the French about the change in the Iroquois' intentions. Since Father Ragueneau could not do it himself, the delicate undertaking fell to Commander Dupuys, Father Le Moyne, and Radisson. They had all agreed to express their hope that the peace might hold. But Radisson was under no illusions. He believed the plan should be applied in full until they returned to Montréal.

The men gathered in the Jesuit accommodations, a place they normally did not enter. They suspected something was amiss, no doubt something to do with Father Ragueneau injuring himself the night before. The tiny room was full to capacity. Commander Dupuys and Father Le Moyne stood next to the stone fireplace, where a huge fire had been lit. Radisson sat next to them.

“My friends,” the commander declared. “We have learned that a number of Iroquois are working to undermine our alliance with them. Some of them want to see our ruin. We organized the feast in the hopes of thwarting them. But we do not know how the situation will evolve from here. We are in danger.”

A deathly silence fell over the stunned assembly.

“But fear not: we have an escape plan if things get any worse.”

“For several months now,” Father Le Moyne cut in, seeing faces harden, “Mohawk chiefs have been trying to persuade the Onondaga to go back to war with us. But they have not yet succeeded. The chiefs who remain loyal to us are keeping us informed of their every move. We hope that—”

The Jesuit didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The room erupted.

“We'll kill them!” René Dufresne cried. “I told you we couldn't trust those Iroquois dogs!”

“We'll kill them before they kill us!” another cried.

“The feast was a huge success,” Dupuys interjected. “We can still turn this around…”