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April 20, 1676
Sequankoon walked silently along a forested hill above Peskeompskut. Her name meant spring snow, a name given to her by her mother twelve springs ago. Peskeompskut was the site of the northeastern tribal people’s spring fishing encampment, below the Great Falls on the Connecticut River. She paused on an outcropping of rock to look down upon the temporary village. It was early morning, but she could already see many people beginning their daily activities among the wetu huts. The older men and young boys were fishing for the plentiful salmon that gathered below the falls. In the surrounding forests and fields, younger men would be teaching the older boys the skills they would need for hunting. The women were cleaning and smoking strips of fish and game on racks. A few warriors were staying at the encampment for protection, in case the Mohawks attacked again. Other warriors camped separately at the two islands south of Peskeompskut, and some distance away at several other camps surrounding the falls. The warriors’ mission was to protect the encampment from attacks from anyone, in any direction.
Sequankoon felt happy in this idyllic place that was far away from the evil white men. Her moment of happiness faded toward hopelessness as she recalled the loss of her family and her village. Two years ago, her mother and younger sister had died within days of each other from the white man’s fever. Most of the people from her village had died from the fever. Last summer, white men had attacked and destroyed her village. Her father was killed, and her older brother taken captive. She was from the Nipmuc tribe, and her village had been located southeast of Peskeompskut. Sequankoon and her younger brother Mooi Anequs, fled north with the few remaining people of their village. They joined a larger group of Nipmuc at Wachuset. There were other Nipmuc and Wampanoag there who had been displaced from their own villages. She and her brother were taken in by a Nipmuc woman named Sukkikesuk, who had recently lost her children to the fever.
The encampment at Peskeompskut included many people from the Wampanoag, Narragansett, Pocumtuc, and Nipmuc tribes. Some of the village women were frustrated with Sequankoon’s behavior. Instead of helping to clean and dry the fish and game, cook meals, mend clothes, and watch the small children, she hunted. But she knew there were other women hunters-warriors, and she wondered if they had also received the rebukes of the other women. She’d been told of her father’s grandmother Wompohtuck, who was a hunter and became a sachem of her people. Perhaps she carried the spirit of Wompohtuck. She had grown faster than other boys and girls her age. She’d made her own bow, arrows, quiver, and knives. She’d often been cautioned to stay away and not disturb the warriors while they were hunting.
Sequankoon continued to walk quietly along the hills, parallel to the Fall River. The Fall River ended at the base of the Great Falls at Peskeompskut. She caught a glimpse of movement on the side of the hill below her. She crouched down and watched, notching an arrow onto her bowstring. There! A large hare was sniffing a sprouting plant. The hare still had small patches of white winter fur, making it more visible. Silently, Sequankoon crept closer. When she was close enough, she drew back her arrow and let it fly. The hare squealed as it collapsed and rolled down the hill a few feet and laid still. Sequankoon carefully approached the hare when she suddenly became aware of two people standing in front of her.
One was a boy, a little older than her, called Nish N’keke, and the other was a warrior whom she did not know. The boy rudely said, “Go back with the other women, little girl. Leave my hare alone.” Sequankoon looked at the boy incredulously, since she was significantly taller than he.
The warrior walked over and pulled an arrow out of the ground just up the hill from the hare. He said, “Nish N’keke, here is your arrow. The hare belongs to the girl.” The boy snorted with disgust, grabbed his arrow from the man, and walked away. “What is your name, little hunter?”
“Sequankoon.”
“My name is Tuspaquin. You have hunted well, but you must go back to the camp now. You must not disturb the hunting warriors.” He spoke in a different dialect of the Algonquian language than was used by her Nipmuc tribe, but she understood. She made a subservient gesture to indicate compliance. The man quietly walked away and disappeared into the forest.
With her knife, Sequankoon removed the entrails from her hare. She began walking back toward the encampment with a feeling of great pride. She’d have to watch out for Nish N’keke, who might seek retribution for his embarrassment. She decided to leave for her hunt before dawn the next morning.
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METACOMET WAS SACHEM of the Wampanoag tribal confederacy, around the area that the white men called the Massachusetts Bay Colony. For years, the Wampanoag sought ways to live in harmony with the white men. The English even bestowed upon Metacomet the title of King Philip to show him respect during their negotiations. But many more Englishmen kept arriving by boats from the sea, and their leaders sought to subjugate the Indians to their laws. During the past year, Metacomet had formed an alliance among nearby Indian tribes, and together they began harassing and attacking the white men’s villages, hoping to drive the settlers out of the land.
Metacomet held a council fire with sachems and warrior leaders from the Wampanoag, Narragansett, Pawtucket, Nipmuc, Pocumtuc, Pequot, and Micmac tribes. They spoke of the continuing toll of the white man’s sickness. Fewer died from the disease this year, but they’d already lost most of their people. They needed to carefully plan their battles to effectively use their remaining warrior forces. They spoke of battles won and battles lost.
Metacomet gave examples of the difficulty that the English leaders were having trying to control the actions of their rapidly growing population. Weetamoo, sachem of the Pocasset Wampanoag, spoke of new strategies. She noted that whenever new English arrive, they seek to trade for gold, which, she explained, is a soft, yellow metal similar to lead. This gold was used for adornment rather than for making musket balls. The other sachems said that they too had been approached to trade gold, but their tribes have no knowledge about this yellow lead. Weetamoo recalled that one of the English merchants told her that the Spanish were getting this gold from Indians who lived in lands far beyond the mouth of the Connecticut River, in a place where the air is always hot. Metacomet remarked that if they could trade for some of this gold, maybe it could be used to cause competition and betrayal among some of the English leaders. Sagamore John, sachem of the Pawtucket tribe, offered to trade guns for some gold. Such a trade could be made with the tribes that live along a great river that is far away in the direction of the setting sun.
Metacomet said, “We don’t need a great deal of gold, for it isn’t the gold itself that is of value. It is the promise of more gold that will capture the minds of the English. We could tell them that the gold came from the land of the Mohawk. Then we will let the English poke at that bees nest.”