Onontio saw where his regard lay. “My cock will be rammed into the red-haired witch many nights.”
Cold fire burned in Joshua. He held himself in firm check until his rage cooled.
Cheered by a chorus of Indian shrieks, Onontio said, “Beg for mercy like the dog you are. I promise a slow death.”
They strutted a bizarre dance like two hell-roosters circling each other. Onontio was twice his size; his arms, like an ape, a longer reach. The knife flashed in his hand. Of course, the War Chief’s skill with a knife was as brutal as it was legendary. He would not play fair. Unarmed, Joshua crouched.
Onontio advanced with a slash to the right. His movement came high and Joshua jumped to the side. Without a weapon, the odds were not good leaving him useless to Juliet.
Onontio rushed him, flicked at Joshua’s shoulder amidst the cheers of their audience. “Your death awaits you. You would be wise to rest content with it. But fight if you like. My friends are amused.”
A knife tipped into the earth at Joshua’s feet. He glanced to Two Eagles, his benefactor. Joshua’s hand closed over the hilt and, in an instant, Onontio ran his knife down Joshua’s thigh. Joshua leapt to the side, pain rocketed through him. He numbed the ache in his mind, too busy with survival. Blood poured from his wound.
He pivoted as Onontio circled him, deadly intent glittered in his black eyes. The Indians hooted, tossing their comments; the fight made for their entertainment.
“You seek to fight with me? With your injury, you are like the coyote who sings while he is castrated. You will lose,” said Onontio.
Joshua’s leg tired from loss of blood. Fatigue set in from their frantic journey to Tionnontigo. He strained to stave off the soreness from running the gauntlet, aching in every part of his body. How much longer could he last? He had to end this fight soon.
He smiled, his eyes as hard as granite. “I promise you will learn defeat and crawl into a cave to suck at the tit of an old woman.”
Shivers of laughter ran through the observers.
The jibe riled Onontio. His teeth bared, the Mohawk attacked then drew back with a savage thrust. With a swift, sudden unexpected counter, Joshua drove Onontio back, slicing him on the wrist.
The Indian lunged to take Joshua’s bicep. With a poise and calm born of instinct, he ducked but not quite enough. The knife glanced off his forehead and blood poured down. It burned like hell.
Joshua went down, splayed in the dirt. Someone had tripped him. Onontio advanced. Joshua crouched. At the last possible moment, he thrust himself off the ground, his speed and strength surprising Onontio. With a potent upper cut, he hit the War Chief in the triangle of flesh, dead-on beneath the ribs. Stunned, the giant Mohawk could not get his breath.
With the speed of a cobra, Joshua feinted with his right hand, and with a left hook powerful enough to disembowel a bull, he smashed his fist into Onontio’s face, knocking him out cold. Disgusted, he stepped over Onontio’s lifeless form and didn’t look back. Perhaps he should have killed the War Chief. It would be tiresome to have to fight him all over again.
A nose-ringed brave and his companions gathered around Joshua, menacing in their numbers. He and Two Eagles might do damage on a number of them.
Ojistah shoved through the crowd and stood in front of Joshua.
“You will not touch him. He has shown great bravery surviving the gauntlet. Onontio shamed our people and dared to show his cowardice to take it further, and now he lays punished. Joshua has won the day and we will respect his victory.”
Joshua’s strength flowed away from him like water down a river as he gazed at Juliet. He had saved her from Onontio.
Juliet didn’t realize she was wringing Father Isaac’s good arm until all eyes turned to her. “What did the old woman say? What will they do with my friend, Joshua?”
“You have made Joshua’s acquaintance?” the priest said surprised. “I have met him during his visits to the village. In answer to your question, I could not hear everything over the crowd’s shouting, but from what I have gleaned, Joshua is under the protection of Ojistah and will be in good hands with her healing skills,” Father Devereux said.
Unable to understand why Joshua had to run the violent gauntlet, she scanned the crowd, screaming inside for everyone to leave so she might get a glimpse of him. At last the horde thinned. Two Eagles slung Joshua’s arm over his shoulder, and her heart stopped at the amount of blood pouring from his wounds. She yanked at her bond. “Free me to help him.”
A shadow covered her, and she jerked her head up. Ojistah’s dark eyes grew darker, unfocussed and distant, as she appeared to slip away, deep into a mysterious domain, searching and discerning.
Many women swarmed behind the old woman. Was Juliet to be beaten again? Would she have to endure the gauntlet? Nothing made sense in this world turned upside down.
Ojistah’s eyes cleared, and placing a leathery palm beneath Juliet’s chin, she smiled. An unfathomable lightness emanated from the medicine woman, swirling, brushing against Juliet and catching her in its net. She widened her eyes, basking in the medicine woman’s approval. She could not explain the thin tenuous ribbon binding them, comforting as a hug from Moira.
Ojistah handed a knife to the priest, and then spoke rapidly in her tongue to the women.
Father Devereux cut Juliet’s bonds free. “Ojistah has ordered these women to take you to the river. Afterward, you will be returned to her lodge.”
“Why to the river? Take me to Joshua.”
When the priest perceived her alarm, he helped her rise. “You have nothing to fear.”
