Standing where he stood, Two Eyes found a shelter, a place to spend the whole night. No matter what should happen, he still ignored what was to become of him. He was mourning the passing away of almost the entire tribe, filled with remembrances and memories of times spent and gone. Little details, little flashbacks came back to his mind: scenes and moments he had spent with his fellows, family, or with his grandfather, the man he frequently called “the old man”.
The old man differed from their people - because he was the prophet - although no one really seemed to agree with his thoughts and concepts. Two Eyes reconsidered and figured out that what the prophet had warned them about and what had eventually come true. Ashamed, he realized his fault – their fault – in misjudging the old man and trusting the settlers instead. Even if he knew that the co-operation with Whites was an important factor, it appeared strikingly true to Two Eyes that he had misled the tribe. Morally misled: he investigated his strength for the preservation of the French colony, while he should have defended their own Huron settlement.
The rain came down on Two Eyes as he was kneeling in the dirt, among broken down remnants of the camp. He did not mind for the weather: could rain or could shine, nothing would change his state of mind. It was a quite paradoxical scene: in Quebec, he had been heralded and greeted for his efforts in saving the French settlement and here, nothing was left. It was like gathering fruits and then paying their price. Two Eyes realized what the price of preserving the French colony had been: a bunch of Huron pitiless massacred. The whole tribe had not been exterminated but Two Eyes lost his relatives. The very heart of the clan was gone and it were them who bound Two Eyes – and with him the entire tribe – to the past. They had been most vulnerable, weakness reinforced by age and the passing of time. They would have needed Two Eyes’ presence, his help would have been welcomed, and then he felt smitten with remorse. He felt as though he was the only one to blame. He would not push the blame onto the French, even if they were also involved somehow. Two Eyes was enlightened enough to picture those events in a larger frame: reconsidering the warnings pronounced by the old man, remembering the change in attitude towards French settlers, the growing admiration of the Huron. His good sense let him see that those tragic events were all due to past circumstances.
The fact that these situations had not been unpredictable hurt Two Eyes profoundly. As he was considered the strongest, the wisest, the leading figure, he should have foreseen such events. He should have remembered what the old man had told him on his last day. He should have remembered that confrontation with his grandfather, long ago, even though his mother wanted him to forget it. His mother did not want to hear about it because she felt ashamed to let death face her new born son. She wanted to clear her conscience once again. True that Two Eyes had been very young and the coming years would influence him to forget that situation. Odd enough, the sayings of his grandfather should return only fifteen years later. Too late anyway. A second confrontation with death appeared as a decisive step in his life. Two Eyes was back in the right stream, he could hear two voices inside him dissuading him from letting go and encouraging him to make the right decision.
And still, sadness and grief were lying there inside him. He felt sorry, he felt angry with himself. Lonely without them, he did not know where he could go with his people. He even doubted whether he really wanted to remain with his people. Did his people want to keep him in the tribe? Would they not realize the big mistake, and see that Two Eyes was the only one to blame. How could he still lead a clan, part of which he led to surrender to death?
While Two Eyes had stood out there in the rain the whole night through, the remaining Huron Indians were safely sheltered in their huts and tents. For a long time they had pictured him kneeling in the dirt and yelling odd sounds through the rain drops and gusts of wind. Then they had seen him stumble aground and cry. They could hear him screaming through the stormy night. Some of the women said they wanted to take him inside, but the men knew better to leave him on his own.
“He has to find his own again, he has to drown sorrow, no one of us can feel the way he feels now, just let him be out there on his own and he’ll come back once he’s done with himself.”
One thing was certain: they all wanted him to remain in their community; they knew his temperament and knew he was the only one to own the strength to lead them. The sense of community was there and taught them their sense of belonging to the Huron tribe. This same feeling of belonging had conquered Two Eyes’ conscience at the break of dawn when the rain had seized and a little ray of light illuminated the dirty grounds again. Strong with this knowledge he returned to his people and had a great meal with them. No one really alluded to what had happened during his absence in the camp but of course the horrific remembrance was present in each of them. What the natives really thought about these events shall always be ignored but it seems that they got over it: feelings of hate and anger and betrayal had all vanished. Nothing remained but silence. Their meeting however proved a kind of neutrality where happiness prevailed more than sorrow. Happiness of meeting again, after all that had happened.
It was impossible for them to remain in the same place. Humiliation and despair reminded them of the fatal past. Two Eyes told the young men of the tribe the sooner they left the better.
“It is not possible we stay here after such events, now you realize what the French made with our people, we have to find another place…
‘You cannot blame the French for what has happened. This is our mistake and we’ve been misled,” Two Eyes replied to one of the rebel youngsters.
“But weren’t you in favor of an alliance with Quebec? Did you not fight to defend their interest?
“I did, and I was wrong. We should have listened to our elders. We should have sensed the danger before its poison made us bleed.” Two Eyes fell aground and cried once again. This conversation with one of the wits of the tribe renewed his memories about his relatives. He felt sad because these were gone now. These memories nonetheless reminded him of enchanting moments, fantastic remembrances. The only sadness about it was, though, that they were past and long behind.
Read an excerpt from part 1 here
The old man differed from their people - because he was the prophet - although no one really seemed to agree with his thoughts and concepts. Two Eyes reconsidered and figured out that what the prophet had warned them about and what had eventually come true. Ashamed, he realized his fault – their fault – in misjudging the old man and trusting the settlers instead. Even if he knew that the co-operation with Whites was an important factor, it appeared strikingly true to Two Eyes that he had misled the tribe. Morally misled: he investigated his strength for the preservation of the French colony, while he should have defended their own Huron settlement.
The rain came down on Two Eyes as he was kneeling in the dirt, among broken down remnants of the camp. He did not mind for the weather: could rain or could shine, nothing would change his state of mind. It was a quite paradoxical scene: in Quebec, he had been heralded and greeted for his efforts in saving the French settlement and here, nothing was left. It was like gathering fruits and then paying their price. Two Eyes realized what the price of preserving the French colony had been: a bunch of Huron pitiless massacred. The whole tribe had not been exterminated but Two Eyes lost his relatives. The very heart of the clan was gone and it were them who bound Two Eyes – and with him the entire tribe – to the past. They had been most vulnerable, weakness reinforced by age and the passing of time. They would have needed Two Eyes’ presence, his help would have been welcomed, and then he felt smitten with remorse. He felt as though he was the only one to blame. He would not push the blame onto the French, even if they were also involved somehow. Two Eyes was enlightened enough to picture those events in a larger frame: reconsidering the warnings pronounced by the old man, remembering the change in attitude towards French settlers, the growing admiration of the Huron. His good sense let him see that those tragic events were all due to past circumstances.
The fact that these situations had not been unpredictable hurt Two Eyes profoundly. As he was considered the strongest, the wisest, the leading figure, he should have foreseen such events. He should have remembered what the old man had told him on his last day. He should have remembered that confrontation with his grandfather, long ago, even though his mother wanted him to forget it. His mother did not want to hear about it because she felt ashamed to let death face her new born son. She wanted to clear her conscience once again. True that Two Eyes had been very young and the coming years would influence him to forget that situation. Odd enough, the sayings of his grandfather should return only fifteen years later. Too late anyway. A second confrontation with death appeared as a decisive step in his life. Two Eyes was back in the right stream, he could hear two voices inside him dissuading him from letting go and encouraging him to make the right decision.
And still, sadness and grief were lying there inside him. He felt sorry, he felt angry with himself. Lonely without them, he did not know where he could go with his people. He even doubted whether he really wanted to remain with his people. Did his people want to keep him in the tribe? Would they not realize the big mistake, and see that Two Eyes was the only one to blame. How could he still lead a clan, part of which he led to surrender to death?
While Two Eyes had stood out there in the rain the whole night through, the remaining Huron Indians were safely sheltered in their huts and tents. For a long time they had pictured him kneeling in the dirt and yelling odd sounds through the rain drops and gusts of wind. Then they had seen him stumble aground and cry. They could hear him screaming through the stormy night. Some of the women said they wanted to take him inside, but the men knew better to leave him on his own.
“He has to find his own again, he has to drown sorrow, no one of us can feel the way he feels now, just let him be out there on his own and he’ll come back once he’s done with himself.”
One thing was certain: they all wanted him to remain in their community; they knew his temperament and knew he was the only one to own the strength to lead them. The sense of community was there and taught them their sense of belonging to the Huron tribe. This same feeling of belonging had conquered Two Eyes’ conscience at the break of dawn when the rain had seized and a little ray of light illuminated the dirty grounds again. Strong with this knowledge he returned to his people and had a great meal with them. No one really alluded to what had happened during his absence in the camp but of course the horrific remembrance was present in each of them. What the natives really thought about these events shall always be ignored but it seems that they got over it: feelings of hate and anger and betrayal had all vanished. Nothing remained but silence. Their meeting however proved a kind of neutrality where happiness prevailed more than sorrow. Happiness of meeting again, after all that had happened.
It was impossible for them to remain in the same place. Humiliation and despair reminded them of the fatal past. Two Eyes told the young men of the tribe the sooner they left the better.
“It is not possible we stay here after such events, now you realize what the French made with our people, we have to find another place…
‘You cannot blame the French for what has happened. This is our mistake and we’ve been misled,” Two Eyes replied to one of the rebel youngsters.
“But weren’t you in favor of an alliance with Quebec? Did you not fight to defend their interest?
“I did, and I was wrong. We should have listened to our elders. We should have sensed the danger before its poison made us bleed.” Two Eyes fell aground and cried once again. This conversation with one of the wits of the tribe renewed his memories about his relatives. He felt sad because these were gone now. These memories nonetheless reminded him of enchanting moments, fantastic remembrances. The only sadness about it was, though, that they were past and long behind.
Read an excerpt from part 1 here
© 2016 Matt Oehler
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