People of the Lakes(30)

Beyond the clan grounds, irregular fields had been cleared from the vine-thick tangle of oak, hickory, and beech. The fields waited, frozen and still; the stubble of last year’s knotweed and goosefoot stalks canted this way and that, yellowed and broken.

Nearly a third of the fields were grown over with weeds and grass, shot through with slim shoots of newly sprouted trees.

These fallow lands would be burned after the next dry spell, and their soil hoed before being replanted in sunflower, amaranth, bottle gourd, and squash.

The White Shell, like most of the farming peoples Otter knew, lived in isolated houses, dispersed over the clan territory. Each household tended its own fields and—after obtaining approval from the Elders—collected the forest bounty within the clan’s territory. Large storage pits were excavated into the soil and lined with grass. Bark coverings kept them dry, and often half shelters were used to protect them from the elements.

Down along the floodplains of the tributaries for a two-day canoe trip up and down the river, similar fields had been cleared for maygrass, tobacco, and little barley. In selected marshes, cane and cattail stands were groomed. Cane provided dart shafts, flooring, and drill stems. Cattail roots were eaten along with the pods, and the leaves were used for matting. Hickory, acorns, walnuts, wild grape, hackberry, sugarberry, wild plums, raspberries, and more, reflected the bounty of forest and river.

Only important structures had been built here, near the mound: the clan house, a large, oblong building with a bowed roof of thatch; a charnel hut—empty for the moment—built of logs, then roofed with bark-and-cane matting, which was also hung inside for walls; and several storehouses, including the one that now sheltered Otter’s Trade goods. Around the periphery lay the lineage houses, where cousins, or cousins’ cousins, stayed during the ceremonies, crafting offerings and conducting family business.

As Otter watched, smudges of smoke rose from the peaked roofs of these houses, indicating that fires burned within. Few would be venturing back to their farmsteads on this stormy day.

To build the lineage houses, families had sunk digging sticks into the fertile soil to carve out holes before setting poles as thick as a man’s arm. Green branches, stripped of leaves, had been woven between the poles to stiffen the walls, then shocks of grass had been carefully tied in place. Some roofs had been made from sections of bark stripped from ringed trees, while others used grass thatch collected from the flats around the creeks.

Otter slogged his way through the mud toward an opening in the low wall—an earthen embankment as high as his chest— that surrounded the clan grounds. Prior to construction, a peg had been driven into the ground immediately in front of the clan house. A strong cord, nearly a dart’s cast in length, had been tied off from the peg. With it, a perfect circle had ‘ scribed around the entire complex. Breaks in the wall marked the locations where the sun could be seen rising and setting on the sacred days.

He paused, looked back across the swollen river. From this height, the Tall Cane clan grounds were barely visible, only a dark swath situated in a wreath of blue smoke curtained by rain.

Four Kills would be learning his new life now, familiarizing himself with one-time friends who had become relatives. From the moment of his marriage, his relationship with his mother in-law had changed forever. Gone was the old joking and sparring that had amused them by the hour. Now, Four Kills would studiously avoid her. He would refuse to meet her eyes, and never speak directly to her. Even her possessions would be shunned. Any communication between them would be accomplished through intermediaries.

Such was the way of the people. By avoiding one’s motherin-law, domestic tranquillity could be maintained. And if a man really became fond of his wife’s mother, he could work like a winter-wary squirrel and buy the right to talk directly to her. It would be like Four Kills to do exactly that.

Otter muttered the ritual greeting to the ancestors who prowled the grounds, then let out a wavering whistle as he started forward. Catcher—his shaggy ., white, and tan dog—appeared, charging from the storeroom.

Otter caught the animal in mid-jump and suffered through the exuberant greeting of wiggles, licks, and whines.

“Did you guard the storehouse? Make sure the pack rats didn’t get in and piss on the tobacco? No thieves stole our conch shell?”

Catcher yipped and squirmed, pawing at him with muddy feet. The dog’s thick coat was silky black over most of his body, the bib and collar white, with tan trim on the legs, muzzle, and eyebrows. A good Trader’s dog knew his duty to the packs and goods that meant livelihood and prosperity. He would guard his packs to the death, making sure that no pests, four-footed, two footed, or winged, bothered the goods.