Madame, this land belongs to you, non?” Sergeant Beauchamp asked, pointing to the forest on either side of the road. “I would like your permission to go on it in order to observe the negotiation.”
“But to get close enough, you’ll have to go onto reserve land. What happens if they catch you?”
He shrugged in true Gallic fashion. “It is my business not to get caught.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, it is too dangerous.”
“I don’t care. I have to make sure Jid is safe.”
“I can do that, madame.”
“No, it’s my fault he’s there. I won’t be satisfied until I see for myself.” And if it were possible to remove him, I would, but I didn’t dare tell this to the sergeant. “Besides, I know of a place that will take us close to the road without anyone being able to see us.”
With another shrug, Beauchamp acquiesced and followed me into the spruce forest that covered a steep hill. Within minutes, we’d scrambled over the top of a granite outcropping and, keeping well out of sight of the men below, crossed into Migiskan lands and hidden ourselves behind a large boulder with a view through the trees to the road below.
The faint smell of burning sweetgrass told me the peace talks had begun. But all we could see from this angle was a Migiskan Police SUV , parked about twelve metres below. Sergeant Whiteduck leaned against the front door, obscuring most of the police force’s stylized Fish Hook symbol. He was no doubt guarding Robbie, who must be inside, if the sound of the vehicle’s running engine was anything to go by. With the windows tightly shut, air conditioning would be required to prevent anyone inside from succumbing to the growing heat.
On the other side of the cruiser stood another guard, whose black peaked cap and shoulders I could just make out through the leaves. But since that was all I could see, I couldn’t tell if the guard was Corporal Matoush or one of the other two cops with the Migiskan police detachment.
“Do you see the boy?” I whispered.
“Not yet, but they’ve probably taken him further away from the blockade,” the sergeant replied. “I’m sure he’s all right.”
At that point, a couple of blockaders moved into view a few metres to the right of the police car. At least I assumed they were blockaders, judging by the sudden alertness in Sergeant Whiteduck’s stance. He pushed himself away from the door and approached them.
“That’s as far as you go, Ted.” Whiteduck’s deep voice resonated upward through the trees.
“Ah, Sam, we just want to have a few words with our brother, Robbie. It won’t hurt none.”
“You ain’t brothers, Ted. Back off. Besides, not even family can talk to him now.”
“We’re brothers in our struggle against the white man’s oppression. You could be our brother, too. Just let us talk to him.”
The sergeant’s hand hovered over his closed holster. “If you don’t back off, I’ll arrest you for attempting to help a prisoner escape.”
“You’re nothing but a fuckin’ apple,” Ted shot back in disgust. Before the policeman could answer, Pete’s hoarse voice rang out from somewhere to the right of us. “Ted, Bill, get the hell out of there!”
The men and the cop continued to face each other like gunslingers of old, then the two blockaders slowly backed away and disappeared under the foliage.
That insult must’ve hurt, I thought as I watched Sergeant Whiteduck stride back to his station beside the SUV . It could not be easy upholding laws set by a culture that had done its best to eliminate your own.
The smell of smudge told me where I’d find Eric, but it didn’t tell me where Jid was. Perhaps Pete still had him.
Motioning Beauchamp to follow, I picked my way along the steep slope toward where I thought Pete’s voice had come from. The smell of smudge grew stronger, as did the murmur of chanting.
I stopped when I caught sight of a group of people sitting in a small circle about fifteen metres below, at the side of the dirt road. I felt a momentary twinge as I recognized Eric’s thick ponytail and his grandfather’s embroidered deerskin vest. He was sitting cross-legged, facing in my direction, his head bent as if in prayer. In his left hand he held a brown speckled eagle feather, no doubt to show that he was also sitting in this circle in his capacity as an elder.
And beside him, sitting equally quiet, was the slim body of Jid, his fear now replaced by a demeanour that suggested he was feeling very honoured to be allowed to sit in on such a momentous occasion.
On the other side of Eric sat Police Chief Decontie. Beads of sweat on his brow glistened in the mid-morning sun. His tightly buttoned jacket strained with the pressure of his paunch as he leaned awkwardly forward, with his elbows resting uncomfortably on his upraised crossed legs.
With his back to me, Pete sat across from them on the opposite side of the circle. He still wore his fishing clothes from the day before. Although he seemed to be trying to project an air of indifference, the jiggling of his crossed legs suggested otherwise. Beside him sat the man with the brush-cut who’d pulled Jid up and onto the back of the pick-up.
Between these two sets of antagonists sat two other elders, a man about Eric’s age and an older, grey-haired woman. Both wore ordinary clothes. The only indications they were more than simple band members were the large eagle feathers inserted into ornate leather holders that each held.
Grandfather Albert sat on the other side between the police chief and Pete. He wore his usual beaded headband over his wispy grey hair and his worn buckskin vest over a white T -shirt. In front of him lay the regalia of his medicine bundle spread out on the wolf skin. As he chanted, he fanned the smoke rising from the large shell with his black and white feather.
“What is the old man doing?” Beauchamp whispered as he sat down beside me.
“He is preparing the sacred smudge. He also happens to be the father of the accused.”
“Sacrifice! Le père. I don’t believe this man will permit his son to go to Montreal.”
“Since the old man is definitely no friend of ours, I’m inclined to agree. But Eric knows what he’s doing, so he must feel that Robbie’s father will be objective.”
Beauchamp shook his head as if to say, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Still chanting, Kohoko slowly rose and made his way around the circle with the burning smudge, stopping in front of each participant for ritual cleansing.
“Mon Dieu, qu’est-ce que c’est que ça?” Beauchamp pointed to a long, slender object that lay on the wolf skin next to where the old man had been sitting. “I have seen such things only in cowboy movies. In French we call it un calumet de la paix.”
“Peace pipe. Last time I saw one of those was in a museum. I wonder if he’s actually going to use it.”
When the old man resumed his seat on the ground, he ignored the reed-like pipe, with its carved stone bowl. Instead he spoke in what sounded like Algonquin, although his voice was so low, it was difficult to tell.
“Sacrifice!” the policeman swore again, which voiced my sentiments exactly. If they continued in Algonquin, we wouldn’t be able to follow the progress of the talks.
But Pete came to our rescue, for he snarled, “Speak English, Mishòmis. Bob here don’t speak the lingo.”
You probably don’t either, I thought, and you’re afraid to admit it, since you’re supposed to be arguing on the side of the traditional ways.
Unfortunately for the sergeant and me, the old man’s soft, wavering voice made it impossible in any case to understand his words.
I decided to slide down the rocks to a closer spot with enough underbrush to keep me hidden from the people below, but I accidentally dislodged a small stone, which in turn dislodged others, sending a dribble bouncing to the ground below. One hit Pete squarely on the head. He turned. I ducked, but not before seeing Eric’s startled eyes staring into mine.
“It was a squirrel, Pete.” Eric’s deep voice rang out loud and clear. As if to support him, one chattered shrilly on a branch above me.
I waited another couple of minutes before daring to raise my head above my screen of baby spruce.
Eric continued to stare in my direction then jerked his head as if trying to tell me to get out of there. But as I watched his amazement turn to outrage when Sergeant Beauchamp slid into his line of sight. I realized the full magnitude of our trespassing. If we were discovered, we could jeopardize Eric’s negotiations.
We had to leave, but the way back was precarious. Easy enough to slide down this steep slope. Much harder to climb back up without being heard or seen. Sergeant Beauchamp mouthed “no” when he saw me looking upward. I nodded in agreement and crouched down further behind the spindly spruce that now seemed sparser than when I’d arrived.