Chapter Eleven

The Princess

The prisoners and their captors floated down the river all the next day. The Indians did not seem to be in any hurry since they had passed well beyond the last of the white settlements. The second night, they camped on a long island in the middle of the river. Jonathan had been kept apart from his father and brother by Scar. After his initial rage, his heart had softened somewhat toward Jonas and Joshua, and he vowed to himself to do his best to see that they weren’t treated too harshly. So at dinner he managed to hide a chunk of venison in his pocket. Later, when the Indians were resting by the fire, Jonathan took the meat to his father. He was startled to see how far his father had sunk into mindlessness. When he walked up to them, he found Jonas sitting on the ground holding a conversation with his dead wife.  He saw Joshua watching as he approached and there was sadness in his eyes as Jonathan offered him the meat.

“Are you convicted then, Jonathan, for your harsh treatment of your own father?”

“Just take the meat, brother, and do not question my motives.”

Joshua took the provision and handed it all to his father who began to chew it noisily. Then he offered some to Martha. Jonathan watched sadly.

“Will you not eat, Joshua?”

Joshua looked up at Jonathan. “I have made my choice, brother, and I will accept the consequences. If the savages do not choose to give me meat then that is my lot, and I will bear it. But I will take nothing from your hand ever again. As for Papa, you can see the poor man has lost his mind and cannot make these choices for himself. So if your conscience demands that you help, then help him, for no matter what, he is still your father.”

Jonathan felt the heat rise in his face. “Yes, a father that stood by in craven cowardice while his own wife and daughters were slaughtered.”

Joshua smiled sadly. “Someday, Jonathan, you may learn the difference between cowardice and conviction. I, for one, see how much it took for father to stand for his faith, and I will always love him for it. Maam and the girls are in a far better place, and their trials are over. You, however, will face a lifetime of regret. I think that your hardest tests are still before you.” With that, Joshua rolled over and laid his head on the coat that served him as a pillow.

Jonathan stared at his brother’s back for a long while, and then he strode off into the darkness. He looked for a place to quiet the conflicting emotions of his heart. At the end of the island, he found a great fallen tree that extended out into the water. On this he climbed and sat silently in the streaming moonlight. The scenes of the massacre rolled through his mind in grim procession. He saw his maam’s fear as the brutal Scar forced the meat into her mouth. He heard the shrieks of his sisters. Tears ran down his cheeks as the terrified face of Aaron flashed before his eyes.

But as he sat in the stillness, broken only by the soft sound of the dark water flowing by, a remarkable transition came over Jonathan. Gradually, the bitterness died out from his face, as he pushed the pain into the dark recesses of his heart, and he became engrossed in the silver sheen on the water, the lapping of the waves on the pebbly beach, and in the overpowering, mysterious silence of the forest.

In that moment Jonathan realized that some force greater than he had brought him to this place. He did not understand it, but he accepted it. His heart was torn by the tragedy behind him, but even in his sorrow, the call of the wilderness beckoned his heart.

On the third day, the Indians reached a small river flowing into the Ohio from the north. They turned their canoes up and paddled against the current for another hour. Then as they labored around a bend in the stream a great sight opened before Jonathan’s eyes. A huge village lay along the banks of the river, the wigwams and huts stretching along the bank as far as he could see. Hundreds of Indians were moving among the dwellings. The braves gave signals to the village, by firing their guns and giving a hideous yell that they had returned with prisoners, plunder, and scalps. Dark-eyed children ran along the bank shouting to the warriors in the canoes as Scar directed his craft to a broad shelving bank where hundreds of craft lay along the shore. The Indians beached their canoes, and Scar directed his men to unload. He motioned for Jonathan to get out while Joshua and Jonas were dragged roughly from their canoe.

A crowd of excited villagers gathered around the men as Scar strutted before them, talking in his own language. The braves of Scar’s band held up the scalps of the Hershberger women and the excited murmuring of the crowd turned to howls of delight. Scar pushed Jonas and Joshua to their knees in the sand and pointed at them. Although Jonathan could not understand the words, the contempt in Scar’s voice was plain. Scar said something to a group of women standing near and they rushed over to the two men and began switching them with willow branches as they pushed them toward a clearing in the middle of the camp, all the while laughing and shouting.

Jonathan watched as his father and brother were led into the clearing. Then many of the squaws and young boys formed two lines. Joshua and Jonas were pushed to the head of the line, and by motions, they were shown that they must run through the two lines. Jonathan knew this was the dreaded gauntlet that all prisoners must submit to. The squaws were armed with clubs and switches, and their shrieks and cries filled the air with a terrible sound.

Joshua grabbed his father and, shielding him as best as he could, darted swiftly down the rows. He took the blows intended for his father and ran straight toward the finish. One lad stepped out to try and block them, but Joshua lowered his shoulder and bowled the lad over, much to the delight of the watching braves. Joshua reached the end, still dragging his father and the Indians crowded around him, very impressed by his prowess. One even took a cloth and wiped the blood from Joshua’s face. Then they were led away.

Jonathan watched the whole proceeding and, surprisingly, a feeling of pride rose up in him as he watched his brother win through to the end. He was wondering if he was going to have to undergo the same torment when Scar pushed him forward and began to speak. This time Scar’s voice carried both a boastful arrogance and a hint of warmth as he pointed to Jonathan. The rest of the braves crowded around and gave Jonathan friendly pushes as Scar bragged. Jonathan noticed that Stalking Bear stayed apart with a look of pure venom in his eyes, but he merely looked straight back at the brave he had bested until Stalking Bear lowered his eyes and strode away.

Suddenly, there was silence. A tall warrior pushed through the crowd. He carried himself with a regal composure that denoted power and authority. Behind him came an Indian maiden, fair of skin and with astounding lovely eyes. With a shock, Jonathan realized that this was Wingenund, the great chief, and his daughter, White Deer, the ones he and Joshua had seen at Fort Pitt years ago. Only now, the little girl had grown into the loveliest woman Jonathan had ever seen. She was tall and slim, dressed in white buckskin. Her long black hair fell softly about her shoulders, and a white beaded band around her forehead held her tresses in place. Her movements were sure and graceful, and she looked every bit the daughter of the great man she walked beside.

Jonathan stared at the girl and her father. They walked up to him and Wingenund began to question Scar. He did not look happy with the answers so he turned to Jonathan and said something in his tongue. Jonathan must have had a puzzled look on his face, for the girl stepped forward and spoke to him in very clear English. “My father asks what you did to provoke this man to murder your family?”

Jonathan drew himself up. “We did nothing. This man demanded we give him meat that we had just hunted. My mother refused and it angered him.”

The girl spoke to her father. He spoke to Scar again. Scar shrugged and pointed to Jonathan. A torrent of words flowed out as he addressed Wingenund. Wingenund nodded and grunted an affirmative to Scar’s words. Jonathan looked at them and then at the girl.

“Scar claims you as his adopted son. It is our way. The British killed his own sons, and he has no family. Now he says the Great Spirit has sent you to take their place. He will raise you as he would have raised his sons. My father says yes. You will be adopted by Scar.”

The girl turned to go but Jonathan stepped forward. “Wait!”

White Deer turned back. “What?”

Jonathan began to speak swiftly. “I know you. You are White Deer. I saw you at Fort Pitt seven years ago. I have a brother who looks like me. You smiled at us.”

White Deer moved closer and looked at Jonathan. “Kahpèsàk!”

“What does that mean?”

The girl smiled. “It means twins. Yes, I remember you now. Your brother has yellow hair. Where is he?”

“He has been made a slave along with my father because he refused to learn the warrior way. But he sure gave them a warrior’s turn when he ran the gauntlet.”

White Deer shrugged. “That is his choice then.” She started to leave.

Jonathan took a chance. “Where did you learn English?”

White Deer turned. She had an impatient look on her face. “My grandmother was French. My father says that I am the one who will show the Lenape who the white men really are–good or evil. So he made me learn your talk from my grandmother. Now I speak English and Francais.”

Jonathan stared at the girl. Joshua’s words came back to him from that day long ago.

“She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Jonathan shook his head and held out his hands in a pleading gesture. “What do I do now?”

White Deer pointed to Scar. “You will go with him and become his son. He will teach you the warrior way. If you do well, you will become one of us. Then you will no longer be a prisoner but a Lenape warrior.” She spoke some words to Scar who beamed and motioned to Jonathan to come. Jonathan followed Scar as they walked away toward another part of the village. But he kept glancing back at the young maiden. He remembered his own words from that day.

“Aw, she’s just a kid and besides she’s a reddy.”

Then his face hardened and his eyes narrowed as he turned and walked away.

Don’t even think about her, Jonathan. For one day you may have to kill her too!

White Deer stood and watched as Jonathan strode away with Scar. She had always felt pity for the white prisoners. She had rescued many from the fires of the Delaware. As she watched him go, a feeling she had never experienced before swept over her. Many braves had come to her to tell her of their love, many suitors had begged her to love them in return. But she was Opahtuhwe, the White Deer, princess of her people. Her life had been set aside as a servant and a leader. She had no time or inclination for the foolishness of love. And yet, when she looked into the eyes of this young giant, with his handsome face and superb build, she knew that she had met the man who would possess her heart.