Radisson admired the colourful forests that stretched into infinity on either side of the beautiful Saint-Maurice river. Short days and cool nights had seized the land, cloaking the leaves in shades of yellow, ochre, and red. The bright autumn light cut through the bracing air.
Radisson was overjoyed to dip his paddle into the clear waters of the river, keeping the brisk pace set by Pierre Godefroy at the back of the canoe. He still did not know why the captain of the militia was in such a rush, or why he had insisted on bringing Radisson with him. Every time he found himself with Godefroy, Radisson felt guilty for bringing about the death of his son François. Since Ragueneau had ordered him to go hunting with him, he had no choice but to get over the uneasiness he felt. But given the speed they were travelling at, Radisson was sure they were not going hunting. “We have to go up the Saint-Maurice” was all the captain had told him.
At day’s end, Godefroy steered the canoe into a small sandy cove, where they prepared to spend the night. Their makeshift shelter would be a comfortable one. The bed of balsam boughs was covered in beaver pelts. The fire was burning nicely.
“I’ve been keeping a close eye on you since you came back,” Godefroy told him after the meal. “You’ve changed a lot in three years. You’ve become a man.”
His mind put at ease by these words, Radisson was waiting all the same for some harsh remarks about his son’s death.
“I’ve seen a lot of expeditions leave Trois-Rivières, but none as big as the one you prepared for the Jesuits. Nice work!”
“I did what I could. Father Ragueneau was pleased.”
Pierre Godefroy threw another two dead branches onto the fire with hands as broad as paddles. He positioned them carefully, without saying a word. The lively flames lit up a face creased by deep wrinkles. He had untied his long brown hair, which now fell down over his shoulders.
“I’ve seen a lot of men die, too,” added Godefroy.
Radisson stared at the fire to avoid his gaze, sure that he was going to be chided for being so irresponsible.
“Men I loved… Marguerite probably told you about last summer’s massacre. I was wounded when the commander ordered them outside to counterattack the Iroquois. Many of us knew it wasn’t the right thing to do, but the commander was too young, too arrogant. He’d just arrived from France. He got Claude Volant to hold the fort with me. There were thirty of us inside with Boucher, the only one who’d refused to go. The twenty-one who left with the commander were killed in an ambush. Not one man came back. I’m lucky to still be alive today.”
Radisson felt a pang of sadness as he listened.
“I lost two sons, both to the Iroquois. François was with you when they surprised you. He’s dead and you’re alive. One day you can tell me what happened. But you need to be made of strong stuff to live with the Iroquois for two years and come through it. I admire you for that. You must’ve impressed them.”
Radisson couldn’t believe it. He had expected to be blamed, accused, lambasted for causing François’ death. And quite rightly so, in his book. That day he had acted like the French commander who thought he knew better than the experienced men of Trois-Rivières, better than the Iroquois.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” Godefroy went on. “For us in the village it’s like you’ve come back from the dead. Everyone thought you were a goner. It gives us all hope. It shows that God hasn’t completely turned his back on us yet…”
Radisson was so stunned he didn’t say a word.
“I’m not like the Jesuits, you know. I don’t see everything as being black or white. You must have done a thing or two wrong for my son to end up dead. But what point is there holding it against you? It won’t bring my François back. The Iroquois killed him, not you. And, even them, despite all they’ve done to us… I must admit they have some good customs.”
Radisson was struck by the captain’s strength as he forgave him and didn’t condemn all the Iroquois as a whole, just like he had learned to by living among them and seeing their good side. He had not expected such wise words, such kindness, from him. Perhaps this man might understand why he had become an Iroquois for a time.
“The custom they have of adopting prisoners, for instance. That’s a good one. It’s generous of them to sometimes spare their lives. That’s what happened to you, from what I’ve heard.”
“They did adopt me. That’s true.”
Only the crackling of the fire and the rustling of the leaves disturbed the night. Godefroy didn’t speak again for a while.
“I’d like to do what they do. If you agree, I’d like to adopt you as my son. You’ll replace François, in part. It will make up for it. I’m proud of you. Do you understand?”
Radisson couldn’t manage a reply.
“I’m not bitter. There’s no point. It’s best we are reconciled. I know you’re as sorry he’s dead as I am. We’ll be able to get through it together. Because our troubles are not over. If you ask me, this peace with the Iroquois won’t last long. Just like I told Father Ragueneau before I brought you up here with me, we need to stand together or else we’re lost. I need you. The whole village needs you. And I can help you. That’s why I want you to become my son.”
Indescribable joy swept away Radisson’s fears and remorse, just like when his Iroquois family had saved his life. He was never going to turn down the chance to become the adopted son of one of the most respected men in Trois-Rivières.
“I’d be only too happy to!”
* * *
The pace set by Godefroy still gave Radisson the impression of urgency. He didn’t know why, but he trusted the captain—his new father—well enough to follow him without question. It had been a long time since he had felt so happy. Radisson paddled hard, never once complaining that they ate only at sunrise and sunset, that they never stopped. It was like being on a war expedition with the Iroquois. He was cut from the same cloth as the captain.
On the second night, as they ate, Godefroy opened up some more.
“The Jesuits haven’t told you the whole story, you know. They haven’t told you the peace is limited.”
Radisson was surprised to hear what Godefroy was implying.
“When Father Le Moyne came back from among the Onondaga last fall, he confirmed they really wanted peace, even though no one believed them. But the story doesn’t end there. The Iroquois wanted something in return. In order for other missionaries to go to their lands, they demanded all our former allies be excluded from the peace. I’m sure Ragueneau never told you that.”
“No,” Radisson confirmed, still unaware of the implications. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“The Jesuits aren’t exactly telling anyone who will listen that they’ve become the Iroquois’ lackeys. The peace is only for the French. The Algonquins, Hurons, Amikouès, Montagnais, and Etchemins, all our allies, are still at war with the Iroquois, who are attacking them while we stand back and watch. It’s almost as if they’re trying to provoke us! The Jesuits agreed too quickly. They wanted to get in the Iroquois’ good books, or have a grand old time leaving on a mission to Iroquois country, but didn’t stop to consider the consequences. Many of us think they were wrong. Now our allies feel betrayed. They’re angry at us.”
Now Radisson understood the situation better, even though he wasn’t sure he shared the experienced captain’s opinion. The fur trade the Jesuits were trying to get back on its feet with the Iroquois was important too.
“The colony is weak. Things have gotten worse since you left. It’s a certainty that if the Iroquois had kept on attacking us, we’d have had to go back to France. We were at breaking point. That’s why the Jesuits gave in right away. But it was the time to resist, negotiate hard, stand up tall! Now the Iroquois know we’re at their mercy. You know why they offered us peace?”
Radisson shrugged his shoulders.
“And you spent time with them. Perhaps you have a better idea than we do.”
Radisson thought back to all he had seen and heard when he lived with the Mohawks.
“I know the war killed a lot on their side, too. That was a worry for them. My adoptive mother and other people she admired in the village didn’t think things could go on like that. She was hoping for peace.”
Radisson didn’t want to say any more. The Iroquois were divided on the matter and there were bound to be lots of reasons, both for and against, that were unknown to him.
“It’s true things can’t go on like this,” Godefroy continued. “Did you see how much this big expedition cost? Why go running headlong into a project like that when the colony is still lacking everything? It’s risky—the Jesuits themselves admit it. It makes no sense at all. There are so many more pressing things to do first before we start sending missions to the Iroquois!”
Godefroy was clearly one of those opposed to the mission. Until now, the Jesuit point of view had seemed the stronger, more constructive argument in Radisson’s eyes. But he hadn’t known that many old alliances had been sacrificed to get to this point. Now he wondered which side was in the right.
“Ever since the Jesuits decided to start a new mission that was just as big as the one they lost among the Hurons, but in ten times less time, they’ve raised a lot of hackles. They’re hiding things from us. Even from me, and I’m in charge of keeping everyone safe. They won’t follow my advice any more, or the advice of the experienced people who have always supported them. They just do as they please. Damned Jesuits!”
Godefroy stopped talking before his anger got the better of him. Radisson felt as though he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had been sure he was acting for the good of the colony by supporting Ragueneau. Now he wasn’t so sure.
“Can I trust you?” Godefroy asked him.
“Of course you can.”
His new adoptive father stared hard at him, weighing his maturity more than his sincerity.
“Here’s the thing,” he said. “There are more than a few of us in Trois-Rivières who think the Jesuits are making a mistake. Our allies had to flee far to the west to get away from the Iroquois, in part because we left them defenceless. We left them without firearms when they asked us for them. I’m with Médard Chouart, who’s trying to find them. If these Indians abandon us, the Iroquois will wipe us out like they did the Hurons, Neutrals, and Erie.”
Radisson felt a twinge of regret as he recalled the victories he had taken part in over the Erie, who had defended themselves without iron or muskets. Many Iroquois from his village had wanted to go back and fight them to cover themselves in glory.
“You know the Iroquois well enough to know how strong they are. They offered us peace from one day to the next. But they might turn against us just as quickly. They’re the ones who decide. Not us. That’s why we need to keep up our old alliances. But the Jesuits and the governor don’t understand.”
Godefroy was not wrong. Radisson himself had chosen not to stay among the Iroquois to escape with his life. But what could he do now that he had given his word to serve the Jesuits?”
“Tomorrow we meet the Algonquins who came to trade furs last week in Trois-Rivières. I have arranged to meet with them in secret. They live far to the north now. They are distrustful of us. As you saw for yourself, there are only fifteen or so left near the village. There used to be a hundred. My mission is to rekindle the alliance with them, even though the Jesuits are against it. I ask that you don’t breathe a word to Ragueneau. I need your word on that.”
Radisson hated being put in this situation. Did he really have to take sides? Was there not a way he could stay loyal to both at once?
“I brought you with me so that you can see what’s really going on,” Godefroy added, seeing Radisson’s discomfort. The Jesuits are pulling the wool over your eyes. They haven’t been honest with you. If we are to help the colony, everyone needs to be involved in the decisions. The Jesuits failed with the Hurons and they’re probably going to fail with the Iroquois because they’re not learning from their mistakes. There are a few of us in Trois-Rivières, Québec, and Montréal who think we need to be doing things differently. You’ll soon see just how unhappy the Algonquins are. But I’m going to try to salvage our alliance with them. I need your word that you’ll keep it a secret.”
“I agree. I won’t say a word. I promise.”
* * *
Seven Algonquins were waiting patiently for Pierre Godefroy at the foot of an enormous waterfall. They had a great deal of respect for the captain from Trois-Rivières who had always been close to their nation. Together, they had signed a number of agreements to the benefit of both the French and the Algonquins. They had fought side by side. The previous summer, Godefroy’s eldest son had gone hunting with one of their bands when the Iroquois had attacked without warning. They had fought and died together, brave and standing together right to the end. But the Algonquins they were meeting with were angry. They had gone to Trois-Rivières for powder and muskets and the French had turned them away, not wanting to displease the Iroquois.
The first thing Godefroy did was offer them a small barrel of powder. To thank him, the band chief Penikawa gave him the leather headband he had been wearing around his forehead. Then they climbed the path to the top of the waterfall, put their canoes back in the water, and went back up the river at great speed. Radisson had trouble keeping up with the men who had learned to paddle at the same time they learned to walk. It took four days to reach the Algonquin camp, where three huge drainage basins met at the source of the Saint-Maurice.
Surprised to see two Frenchmen arrive among them, the camp’s residents gave them a cold welcome. Penikawa had to go around each teepee, reminding everyone that the French captain’s eldest son had died fighting by their side. Godefroy took the chance to hand out small gifts to each family: a handful of metal needles, glass pearls, iron scrapers. Radisson watched the captain closely, noting how he established a rapport with them.
“With the Indians, you have to give in order to receive,” Godefroy explained. “That’s their custom. I wish I could have given them more, but I had to be careful Ragueneau wouldn’t suspect something was up.”
Megiscawan, the camp’s most respected chief, knew Godefroy well from having lived a long time near the fort in Trois-Rivières. He had even taken part in the talks when the Iroquois had spoken of peace for the first time over a year ago. All the French allies had been included then. Megiscawan said he was happy to see his friend again, but appalled at the French U-turn. He nonetheless agreed to listen to what Godefroy had come to tell him.
The next day, in the large teepee reserved for ceremonies, Godefroy unpacked a long-barrelled musket, which he gave to Megiscawan. He set it down before the four chiefs on a red blanket spread out on the ground and added a nice-looking eagle feather. Then he sat on the ground next to Radisson, opposite the Algonquins. Megiscawan filled his pipe deliberately with herbs and tobacco so they could smoke together before talking, in order that their words would travel far and be heard clearly.
Radisson hadn’t been in an Indian camp for a long time. It reminded him of how he used to live as an Iroquois. He wasn’t afraid. His only handicap was not being able to speak Algonquin well.
The four chiefs were dressed all in leather for the occasion and wore their ceremonial finery: porcupine quill wristbands, leather headbands decorated with drawings of animals and shapes, and furs. Radisson wanted to know what it meant.
The pipe was passed around in a circle. The smoke escaped skyward through a hole in the top of the teepee. Once Megiscawan had set the pipe down on the ground, Godefroy was able to speak, eloquently, in Algonquin.
“Megiscawan and Penikawa know me well. They know I speak with my heart. I offer you these gifts because the Algonquins have been my friends ever since I arrived in your land. The eagle feather signifies that we must rise above the quarrels that divide us. The musket signifies that the French have not abandoned you. Many among us want to help you defeat the Iroquois. I know that the attitude of the grand chief of the Frenchmen—our governor—and the Jesuits disappoints you. I have come to reassure you of our intentions and to listen to you. Speak to me frankly, Megiscawan.”
The previous day, Godefroy had explained to Radisson how he planned to go about things. Even though he didn’t understand every word, Radisson knew that the captain wanted to focus on reconciliation.
“I thank you for bringing me these gifts,” Megiscawan replied. “But I find them difficult to interpret. You want to look beyond our quarrels and yet it is the Frenchmen who have betrayed our alliance by excluding us from the peace with the Iroquois. They have allied with our enemies and abandoned us. Penikawa returned from Trois-Rivières with his hands empty. The Blackrobes did not want to give him the powder he asked for. And yet here you are giving us powder without asking for furs in exchange. Who speaks for the Frenchmen? You or the Blackrobes? Whom must I believe?”
Radisson could tell from Megiscawan’s tone and stiff posture that he was not amused.
“I understand that the Algonquins do not know who to believe. I understand your concern,” Godefroy replied. “But many Frenchmen are just as concerned as you are. The Jesuits and our grand chief agreed to a separate peace only so that we could get our strength back. Make no mistake, Megiscawan: we have not broken our bond with the Algonquins. We have only bent a little, like bulrushes in a storm. Once the storm has passed, we will stand tall again. Soon the French will impose their will on the Iroquois and our alliance with the Algonquins will be just as strong as before.”
Megiscawan nodded to show his appreciation. His silence indicated he was keen to hear more.
“I propose you come meet me this spring at the foot of the great waterfall. I will give you more muskets and ammunition in exchange for your furs. I want you to avoid the same fate as the Hurons. Your bows and arrows will not stand up to the heavy fire of the Iroquois. You need muskets. The feather is to ask you to rise high enough to look back toward the past and forward into the future: we were once allies and allies we will be once again. If you accept my offer and meet us at the waterfall, you will have to be discreet, though: the Iroquois must not find out. Now is not the time to provoke them.”
Radisson could see the traces of distrust start to fade away from the faces of the three men. Only Wakopi, the lone woman in the group, still appeared unmoved.
“Before the white men arrived,” she said, “nations would come exchange corn, stones, and shells with us. We would give them meat, canoes, and healing plants in return. The Iroquois did not bring their war up here. Then the French arrived and offered us objects that we liked. We became allies. But today, war, disease, and betrayal are ruining everything. Why so much suffering? Why are the French not honest with us? Why are they at war one day and at peace the next with Iroquois?”
“The French are also going through difficult times,” Godefroy replied. “Several of our allies have fled and left us alone. We have also been abandoned. I understand the pain felt by my Algonquin brothers, but the French are suffering just as much. We are divided over what should be done to improve our lot. I am holding out my hand to you. Other Frenchmen have taken the hand held out by the Iroquois. Perhaps in the future we will all be reunited. In the meantime, I for one will also remain faithful to my Algonquin friends.”
Megiscawan, Penikawa, Kitsikano, and Wakopi exchanged words quietly among themselves. They appeared hesitant.
“We cannot accept or refuse your gifts right away,” Megiscawan concluded. “First, we must consult the heads of family. It will take time to gather enough beaver pelts in exchange for the muskets and powder you speak of. All will have to be involved. We must first discuss the matter among ourselves. We will let you know what we decide before winter.”
“I look forward to it,” Godefroy replied, disappointed. “Before we go, I have a favour to ask. I must return quickly to Trois-Rivières if I am to keep our meeting a secret. I am supposed to be out hunting and I must bring back some game. If you would like to come hunting with Radisson and me you would be doing us a great service.”
* * *
Megiscawan, Penikawa, and two members of their family agreed to go with them. Three to a canoe, they descended the river with the current, reaching the great waterfall in only three days. There they stopped to hunt.
Penikawa knew better than anyone how to coax the animal spirits and win their favour. That evening, around the fire, Radisson watched as he took a stag’s shoulder blade out of a leather bag decorated with porcupine quills and examined it. The Algonquin held it up to the flames, looking for the lines that would show where the game was to be found.
The ritual lasted for a long time and reminded Radisson of the techniques employed by his brother Ganaha. He had forgotten how the Indians would get ready for a hunt by asking the spirits for help. Once the ritual was over, Penikawa put the bone away, looking neither disappointed nor satisfied. Radisson didn’t know what to make of it, but vowed to team up with him the next day to measure his talents against the soothsayer’s.
The group split into three at sunrise. The two youngest Algonquins went off by themselves. Godefroy went with Megiscawan, and Radisson followed Penikawa, who seemed to know exactly where he was headed. After hiking for over an hour, he stopped to rub his body with balsam boughs and motioned for Radisson to do the same. Now their smell wouldn’t chase the wild game away. They set off again more slowly, still under the cover of the evergreen forest, still in silence. Penikawa found and examined a track, then poked at it with his fingers.
“That way. Close,” he whispered to Radisson.
The sound of running water told them they were nearing a small creek. It masked the sound of their footsteps and the noise made by the branches they brushed against. Penikawa stood still for a moment. He pushed back the last curtain of foliage that separated them from the river and in one movement took an arrow from his quiver, held up his bow, and fired at a deer that Radisson now saw for the first time, standing on the other shore. The animal reared its head nervously, but it was too late: the arrow had already sliced through its neck. Radisson took aim and fired off a musket shot himself. The deer disappeared into the vegetation.
They hurried across the river and discovered their prey, dead and just steps from the water. Radisson’s musket shot had got it square in the chest. The animal had survived its double wound for no more than a few seconds. Penikawa sliced off one of its ears and offered it in silence to the spirit of the deer, which had allowed them to kill this beautiful doe. Radisson looked on in silence, with mixed feelings. He had mostly lost faith in the spirits venerated by the Indians. The constant admonishments of the Jesuits had brought him back to the Christian side (“Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”). But the more he thought about it, the more intrigued he was by how Penikawa had walked straight there, without a doubt, without the slightest detour, as though he had known in advance where the deer would be. His strange divining technique appeared to have worked…
* * *
At Godefroy’s request, they beached their game-laden canoe on a small stretch of sand not far from Trois-Rivières.
“I have something else to ask you,” Godefroy told Radisson. “I know that Ragueneau holds you in the highest esteem. He trusts you. Perhaps he will tell you a thing or two he is no longer willing to share with me. If something important comes up, please let me know.”
Things were starting to get complicated. Radisson wanted to try to remain on the fence, to serve both the Jesuits and the captain faithfully, while waiting to find out which side was right. But it wouldn’t be easy.
“I’m not asking you to betray his confidence,” Godefroy went on, seeing Radisson hesitate. “I know Ragueneau. I know his heart’s in the right place. All I’m asking is that you put the colony’s interests before the Jesuits’. You’re smart enough to be able to figure things out for yourself.”
“I’ll try,” Radisson replied.
For the last part of the trip, Godefroy let Radisson steer the canoe. It was an honour: it wasn’t every day that the captain of the militia gave up his rightful place in the stern to a young apprentice. When they arrived back in Trois-Rivières, this piece of news spread quickly. Many would never see the young Jesuit charge in the same light again.
* * *
November took hold of the village. The harvests were taken in, animals were butchered, the time for long journeys was now over. The first snow covered the ground. It had been a long time since peace and abundance had left those living in the village feeling so serene. But Radisson found that time passed slowly, with nothing to do but chores for the Jesuits.
Father Ragueneau had plenty of time to think. He wondered about the signs God was sending him. He had failed with the Hurons. He had lost his post as superior in Québec. He had just missed his chance to leave for Iroquois country. Perhaps it was time to change how he handled himself. When Radisson returned from the forge where he occasionally went to amuse himself, Ragueneau made an effort not to ask about the latest gossip he might have heard there. He no longer asked after Marguerite’s news when Radisson visited her either. Instead, he contented himself with his work as a pastor, looking after his flock and reminding himself day after day not to be overzealous. Even with the sour-tempered Iroquois, he vowed to be more tolerant than he had been with the Hurons. He thought about this each time Radisson gave him a lesson in the Iroquois language, in which he was coming on by leaps and bounds.
The smith Charles Aubuchon was always busy with something. He was never in any rush as he went about fashioning axes, latches, hinges, nails, and pikes. Sometimes, he would tackle more ambitious projects like plowshares, and he also enjoyed forging blades for planing mouldings. His forge was the liveliest place in the village. It was always warm there, and the men liked to gather to chat in small groups and smoke their pipes. Some drank more eau-de-vie than was wise. Conversation often turned to the lack of women. The older men would tell how they would travel to distant lands before the war with the Iroquois. These coureurs des bois would trade goods and take up with young Indian girls not yet married, in keeping with their traditions. Many of them were all too keen to sleep with a Frenchman—it made them feel exotic and they were grateful for the trinkets the men gave them, too.
Every time he went to the forge, Radisson would hear plenty of malicious gossip: about men who had built their homes poorly, about men who were easily scared, about men who couldn’t hunt, about men who had no staying power. The fact there was plenty to eat was a favourite topic of conversation this year. Talking about food seemed to satisfy appetites as much as eating it. It had been a long time since providence had been so good to them.
Radisson was bored. Fortunately, there were the Iroquois language classes to remind him of fond memories and prepare for his return among the Iroquois. He felt reassured that the French had set up home there in large numbers, and that there were true advocates for peace among the Onondaga. He was no longer afraid of being among them.
Now and again, he visited Marguerite. She was also sorry there were not more women in the village. It would have made her life much easier. To be on the safe side, she always keep a poker by the door and only let married men into her home, along with her brother Pierre, the Jesuits, Claude Volant, who was courting her sister Françoise, and neighbour Dandonneau dit Lajeunesse, whom she was careful not to bring in too often before he got any ideas. Médard Chouart was the man for her. She was sure he would come back from his trip alive. She just knew it. And she would love it if Claude Volant married her sister. She knew him well and he was her late husband’s best friend.
Her eldest boy had just turned five and was already helping around the house. She was so proud of him. Other women sometimes dropped by to visit… her sister, the carpenter’s wife, Jeanne Godefroy, Antoinette Côté. They had fun together and helped each other out. They were good times.
A number of men were buzzing around Françoise. She had no choice but to get married; there were too few women in Trois-Rivières. The kindest suitors brought her food: a fish, a piece of meat, vegetables. They said it was for the Jesuits, but it was only a pretext to get close to Françoise. Others arrived, their hands empty, and behaved like parasites. They told her she was so beautiful, the kitchen smelled so good, the house was so clean and tidy. The most insistent made her feel uncomfortable. When she kept her distance, they came up to her. When she was minding her own business, there they were, under her feet. She sometimes asked Radisson to get them to leave. “Goodnight,” he told them, time and again. “See you tomorrow. Time for bed.” When the softly-softly approach didn’t work, he flat out told them to leave his sister alone. Sparks flew.
Françoise knew which men she did not want to marry. That was easy. But her heart couldn’t decide between the two or three she found to her liking. She had trouble choosing one because it was for life. Father Ragueneau had warned her: if she didn’t make her mind up soon, he would choose for her, just like any father would. Because he had just about had enough of the men who came to send their imaginations racing over her. They were a source of sin.
Claude Volant had put his role as an officer of the militia on the back burner for the winter. Finding a wife was not to be taken lightly and he intended to give the matter his full attention. He was a fine hunter and could give Françoise a skinned hare or a plucked partridge almost every day. He had also given her a brand new knife from his supply of trading goods. After making sure Françoise was in no doubt as to his intentions, he was wise enough to have a word with Ragueneau or Radisson.
People called him Saint Claude because no one could really find fault with him. His feelings for Françoise were sincere. More than just pretty and hard-working, she was made for this country, a real Radisson, just like Marguerite and Pierre. He was sure she would make the best wife in the world. Ragueneau knew that Claude was a gentleman who wanted to make her happy. He was also Radisson’s preferred suitor.
* * *
Christmas was coming. Ragueneau visited every household to remind them of the importance of Christ’s birth. He wanted one and all to purify their hearts during Advent.
Today was the Godefroys’ turn.
Radisson, who went with the priest, hadn’t set foot in the house since his capture by the Iroquois. It felt strange to walk through the door again. Pierre Godefroy welcomed him warmly, like a member of the family, but the greeting did not make up for Radisson’s memories of François. It was a wound he had trouble healing.
Jeanne, Pierre Godefroy’s wife, bustled around, clearing the hearth for the Jesuit. It was quite the visit. She unfolded two trestles stored against the wall and set the table on them. She brought over some salt pork, bread, and water. Her husband, Ragueneau, and Radisson sat facing the fire on simple wooden benches at the end of the long table.
While the Jesuit exchanged news with his host, Radisson looked around the home he had been in so often in the past. He didn’t remember the house being so small and cluttered. Four boys and two girls were still living there with their parents. Right next to him, Anne, the family’s eldest daughter, caught his attention. She had changed a lot. She was almost a woman now. She was helping her mother prepare a big stew, which was bubbling away over the hearth, in a heavy iron pot hanging from a wooden beam. Smiling and confident, she listened in on the conversation between her father and the Jesuit, often turning toward them.
Radisson was won over by a pretty face and long locks of hair that poked out from under her bonnet, by merry eyes that gleamed with the light of the fire. She was almost of marrying age. Radisson had heard she was already promised to the neighbour’s eldest son, Urbain Côté. The two families had known each other forever. And since the two youngsters got on so well, marrying them stood to reason. At any rate, for as long as Radisson was in the service of the Jesuits, he wouldn’t be allowed to marry.
“Throughout Advent, you must lead by example,” Ragueneau was telling the head of the household. “I often see your wife and daughters at the church and I congratulate them. But you, not so often. And your sons, even less.”
“We just don’t have the time, Father,” Godefroy replied. “It’s not that we wouldn’t like to. The women are right beside the church, but we’re out hunting, fishing, on exercises with the militia… You know that Claude, my eldest boy, often delivers mail to Québec. We’re doing our best, Father.”
“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just telling you what I see, that’s all. I would like you to make an effort during Advent. If people see you going to mass during the week, they’ll follow. You have a lot of influence, you know. Much more than I do.”
“I doubt that, Father. Everybody here admires you so.”
Ragueneau looked at him severely.
“Lying is a sin, you know. I know that many hold the mission I organized to the Iroquois against me. And you are first among them. Admit it. I am far from sure they admire me as much as you say. Of course, everyone greets me politely enough. But I know that many have unkind things to say about me behind my back. I’m no fool. I know what they’re up to.”
“If you want the truth,” replied Godefroy, “it’s not so much the mission that upsets me as the way we’ve let our allies down.”
“We had no choice.”
“It’s going to backfire. It’s started already…”
“First, we must secure a peace with the Iroquois. That you cannot deny. If not, we’re headed for ruin. At least we are at peace.”
“For how long, Father? Can you tell me for how long?”
“Pierre, please. Let’s discuss this another time. I came to talk to you about the feast of Christmas and the birth of Christ. What would we do without him? I ask you. So, then, will I see you at mass more often? Yes or no?”
“We’ll see,” Godefroy replied sullenly.
The Jesuit pulled a face and crossed his arms to show his displeasure. Jeanne intervened.
“Would you like some beef stew, Father? It’s almost done.”
“Thank you. But I have eaten my fill and I am endeavouring to do penance for my sins, as the Holy Mother Church asks of us. You should consider doing likewise.”
“We’ll go confess,” Godefroy replied dryly. “It amounts to the same thing.”
“Very well, that’s better than nothing. By the sounds of things, you are in need of it.”
Radisson was sorry that his master and his adoptive father were at loggerheads with each other. But he did not interfere. He preferred to watch the fair Anne. She was amused at how the pair brought out the worst in each other; this wasn’t the first time they had clashed over nothing. Leaning over a broad plank of wood that was attached to the wall by the fireplace, she was nimbly cutting vegetables. Iron pots and utensils hung beside her. That was the women’s corner. Women made all the difference to a home, bringing as much comfort, warmth, and light as the fire. Anne seemed so nice, and just as strong as her mother.
Ragueneau was already getting up to leave. He would come back to preach another time. Anne thanked him for his visit and assured him she would be a regular at mass that Advent.
“We girls will be ready,” her mother chipped in. “Don’t you worry.”
“Thank you. Christmas is such a beautiful festival, a time of hope, of life just beginning. And this year I have a surprise for you. It’s going to be the best Christmas you have ever had in Trois-Rivières. You have my word!”
Radisson was in no hurry to leave. He took his time saying goodbye to the fair Anne and his heart gave a leap when she returned his smile and looked him square in the eye. As he walked out the door, Godefroy threw him an inquiring glance.
“No news,” Radisson whispered to him on the way past.
“Make sure he gets some time off!” Godefroy shouted at Father Ragueneau as he walked away. “He’s not a servant, Radisson! He’d better not lose everything he learned with the Iroquois! Once there’s enough snow, I’ll bring him moose hunting with me!”