People of the Longhouse(6)
Gannajero turns to Big Man and points at Agres. “Why did you bring that one? What use do I have for an infant?”
Big Man gestures awkwardly. “The girl refused to leave it. I thought it was easier to let her keep it for a while.”
Agres’ face goes white. She clutches her sister more tightly to her chest. Her gaze darts from Big Man to Gannajero. The terrible truth is dawning, but she doesn’t believe it yet.
None of us do.
Gannajero walks back toward her warriors. As she passes Big Man, she says, “The baby is yours. I will take the others. Kotin, pay him.”
The gangly warrior unslings his heavy pack, walks forward, and hands it to Big Man.
Big Man places the pack on the ground. When he opens it, awed whispers filter through the gathering. The pack is filled with exquisite strings of pearls, pounded sheets of copper, etched shell gorgets, and many things I cannot see. Enough wealth to ransom a village. Big Man chuckles and begins tossing shell gorgets and pendants to each of his friends. They grin and laugh. Broken Teeth does a little dance of joy.
Wrass glances at me, silently asking if I understand this. I shake my head.
I do not understand. Child slaves are not worth so much. A few strings of shell beads for each of us would be enough.
“I’ll meet you again next moon. But not here,” Gannajero says to Big Man. “I’ll send a messenger to tell you where.”
“Fine.”
Gannajero turns to her warriors. “Bring all of them except the baby.”
She trudges away into the forest, and her warriors circle us like a pack of hungry dogs. The tall gangly man, Kotin, holds out his hands to Agres. “Be a good girl. Give me the child.”
Agres bursts into tears. “No. She’s just a baby!”
“I don’t have time to play games. Give her to me.”
Agres starts to back away, and this enrages Kotin. He lunges for Agres, grabs her arm, and flings her to the ground. She loses hold of her sister, and the baby bounces into the leaves, shrieking. Agres madly crawls for her sister, but before she can reach her, Kotin brutally kicks Agres in the ribs and sends her sprawling.
“My father is a chief! He’s going to kill you!” Agres shouts.
Kotin picks up the bundled baby and tosses it to Big Man. “Gannajero said this was yours.”
Big Man catches it. “What am I going to do with it?”
Kotin shrugs, glances at the wailing child, and says, “The rest of you. Follow me.”
I grip Tutelo’s hand and walk. The world is blurry.
“Get up,” one of the warriors says to Agres.
She struggles to rise, but can’t. She’s crying too hard. “My father—” She chokes on the word. “He’ll find you!”
“Yes, yes, I can’t wait to meet him.” The man acts as though he has heard these same words from hundreds of children. He drags Agres to her feet and forces her into line just ahead of Tutelo. She is clutching her ribs and groaning as though they are broken.
As Agres passes Big Man, she lunges, grabs the baby, and runs into the forest. Spontaneous cheers rise from the children. We are all praying she escapes. If she can do it …
Gannajero shouts, “Kotin, teach a lesson!”
Kotin unslings his bow and nocks an arrow. He takes his time sighting down the shaft.
Agres is still running when the arrow pierces her back. She careens forward, trying to keep hold of her sister, but it is too difficult. Blood is drenching her dress, pulsing in time to her heartbeat. She has only enough strength to gently place the baby on the ground, then stagger over to an oak trunk and lean against it.
Big Man and his warriors don’t even seem to notice. They split up and trot away in different directions. No one looks back.
“Little fool,” Gannajero says, and glares at the rest of us. “Look and learn. If you run, you die.”
Gannajero tramps away. Her warriors force us to march up the trail behind her, but I keep looking back. For an eternity, Agres stands there. Finally, she sinks to her knees and collapses into the leaves without a sound.
For another finger of time, I hear the baby crying.
We turn onto a new trail and head down into a grove of pines. My heart is beating in my ears, slamming against my skull, growing louder and louder, until a stunned ringing shakes me.
Crows circle overhead, and I hear magpies in the distance. In a few days, there will be nothing left of Agres or her sister. Their bones will be picked clean, then covered by leaves, and finally melt into the forest floor. No one will know what happened to them.
I can’t stop myself from wondering when the same thing is going to happen to Tutelo and me.
Our People believe that the dead must be buried properly or their afterlife soul cannot reach the Land of the Dead. Instead, it becomes a homeless ghost, wandering the forests alone, forever.