Slowly she sipped the odd and tasteless food that rolled grainy over her tongue. “Strength for what? So they can torture me?”
Father Isaac’s good arm dropped to his side and, immediately, his hand rose to steady his broad hat. “No, my daughter. Onontio plans to marry you.”
A sharp spasm in her stomach pulled her gaze from the Jesuit to Onontio, cheered and admired by many of the village maidens. Their eager enticing had him disappearing into a longhouse.
To be married to the monster would be a life of hell. She shivered with images of the warrior’s coarse fingers rough against her skin. His ghoulish painted face hovering over her, and flat black eyes possessing the penetrating cold of a serpent she’d seen under the statue of the Blessed Virgin. To go to bed each night with a beast like that?
The priest tilted his head down to her, his great black hat with a rounded crown and wide, circular brim shadowed her shoulder. “You will endure. Onontio believes you have great power. Two of his young wives have died giving birth. To remove the curse and bear powerful sons, he demands a union to you. The Mohawks are a superstitious group who believe your red hair possesses the same potency of a demi-god.”
The priest’s remarks reinforced her conjecture of Onontio’s fear of her hair.
“Where is Mary?”
“She is with Red Jacket’s wife, learning what work she must perform. Mary will be her slave.”
“Are you not afraid of reprisal from Onontio for giving me succor?”
The priest shrugged, the stump of his left arm raised. “Onontio and I respect each other. He is the one who removed my arm.”
She dropped her spoon in her bowl. “How do you know he will not remove your other arm?”
A young boy with a huge tooth suspended from his neck brought Juliet a vessel of water. “Thank you,” she said, marveling at the unbidden kindness of the boy.
The priest ruffled the boy’s hair. “Onontio’s ruthlessness was my reward. By removing my arm, the Indians know I cannot hold a bow to hunt for food to survive. As a result of my sacrifice, I grew in esteem and was able to convert the chief’s wife and this boy, Garakonthie, or Moving Sun. I remain under their protection and they let me live in peace among them. They even protect me from the British who remain resolute in running off the French, especially the Jesuits.”
He waved to an old woman who shuffled across the grounds. “She is Ojistah, a Mohawk medicine woman and the boy’s grandmother. She is greatly revered for her skills as a healer. When Onontio cut off my arm, she took pity and nursed me back to health. She is sensitive and compassionate, capable of soul-stirring energy, and possesses special intuitive abilities.”
“I could plead my case to Ojistah?”
Father Devereux shook his head. “The Mohawk medicine woman wields great power, but even she would not go up against the War Chief.”
Moving Sun, the boy with the single bear tooth ran off as Milburn Snapes marched through the Indian village. Her hands curled into fists and she tore at her tether to get free. She hated the British captain for he epitomized the worst kind of betrayal. He had wined and dined with Horace and Orpha though knowing of their fate at the hands of the Indians.
“He was at the attack on the Hayes’ farm and condoned it, Father Devereux. As a British officer, his first responsibility was to protect loyal subjects of the Crown, but he did nothing. The slaughter was terrible. No one deserved to die that way—even the hideous Orpha.”
Juliet gave the priest an abbreviated version of what had happened, how she and Mary had left the farm early only to be caught by Onontio and the agonizing journey they endured to the village. Not once did Snapes look in her direction. Did he know she was in the village? He spoke quickly in Iroquois tongue to an Indian woman. Juliet heard the name, “Onontio”.
Just then, the War Chief thrust aside a deerskin flap, and exited the longhouse, his mouth tight from being disturbed. A half-naked woman giggled behind him. Onontio’s breechclout was raised from his swollen manhood probably from the woman’s continued stroking. He shrugged her off.
Milburn Snapes squatted before a campfire, staring at the licking flames. A dozen Iroquois, large, well-muscled men wearing deer hide breechclouts, leggings and moccasins crouched around the fire close to him. They had adopted European long shirts decorated with porcupine quills.
This must have been an important occasion. The red-jacketed leader with the bear-claw necklace who had taken Mary dipped his fingers into the paint pots, and with the other warriors, reapplied hideous designs upon their faces. Onontio, to demonstrate his supremacy wore additional gorgets of silver and wide bands around his upper arms.
Captain Snapes lifted his eyes from the fire and let them pass slowly over the ten warriors, and then come to rest on their two leaders. Snapes launched into a long speech, his hand gesturing upon the attending crowd.
“What is he saying?” Juliet asked. Captain Snapes and Baron Bearsted were cut of the same cloth and she wished them to perdition. For as long as she breathed, she would do everything in her power to make sure they were both brought to justice.
“I’m versed in most of the language but not all so bear with me. He wants to remind Onontio and his faithful Mohawks of the friendship of the King and his Loyalist brethren. Onontio has asked him how many prisoners he wants from the raids of other settlements that will arrive shortly.”
“Not many,” Snapes shrugged. His close-spaced eyes darted over Juliet and she drew back into Father Devereux. He’d been aware of her presence the whole time.
“How many scalps?” The leader with the bear-tooth necklace asked, and they joined him in laughter.
“As many as you can take without losing your own. Not that you have much to lose, Red Jacket,” Snapes pointed to the bald Indian. The men laughed again.
“These prisoners,” Onontio went on, “you can have them except the red-haired woman. There is a power round her. She will bear me sons.”
Snapes glanced to Juliet. “I know her quite well.”
