captured a young woman and brought her back to be his wife. Her name was Kinebigokesì (Cricket), the mother of the twins.
While Kitchi Manitou only gave us this land to oversee, we had to defend our interests. If someone else tried to force us off or threaten our families, we had to stand and fight. If we didn’t and were submissive, we would be under their mìgàdinàn wàgàkwad (war axe) and have to suffer the consequences of any decisions our enemies made for us. That usually meant death or a completely different way of life than we had been used to, being their slave.
My thoughts were now on what the next few days would hold for us. Would there be death? These battles were always brutal because of the weapons we used — arrows and lances that tore as they entered the body. Hand-to-hand combat with knives that ripped and cut. War axes that broke bones and caused tremendous head wounds. If you were wounded and managed to live through the battle, you could bleed to death or die from infection if the Shaman or your fellow warriors couldn’t get to you to administer the healing plants. If you were wounded and your tribe had retreated, you could expect no quarter from the enemy. All warriors were considered a threat. If captured alive, you were usually tortured or forced to run the gauntlet. And if you survived the gauntlet, sometimes you were adopted into the tribe or suffered painful retribution from your enemy. Surrender was almost always worse than death. The only time a battle was usually one-sided was when one of the opponents had been able to lay a successful ambush or if the numbers of one of the opposing forces totally outnumbered the other.
The life of the Omàmiwinini was forever between life and death at any known time. Cluskap, the Creator Force, had fashioned this life for us, and we had to accept our fate.
With the rain having let up a bit, we left Mitigomij to watch over the campfires. Wàgosh, Wajashk, and I went into the forest with our birch pails and collected the tree sap. We would store it in the village and when all this danger had passed, the women would boil the water down to the sweet contents.
The forest was laden with the smells of spring and the life that the rain was giving it. For me this was the best part of the year. However, another month or so and the pikodjisi (blackfly) would hatch. After the blackfly come the sagime (mosquito). Both drove men and beast to distraction. The giant moose and wabidì (elk) would be driven out of the forest into the lakes and ponds to escape the menace. My people used the crushed root of the goldenseal plant mixed with bear fat to keep these insects away.
We spent most of the day gathering the sap and storing it. When we were finished, Mitigomij had a meal ready for us.
Just as dusk approached, the rain and wind picked up with increasing velocity. With the weather starting to worsen, we headed for one of our lodges. At that moment the dogs started to growl, putting us on alert. Grabbing our weapons, we headed toward where they were facing.
“Mahingan, it’s me, Asinwàbidì.”
“Enter, brother. We have food and a warm lodge.”
“Mahingan, because of the storm the Hochelagans have landed in the clearing. But there is another problem!”
“Yes, Asiniwàbidì, what is it?”
“There is more of the enemy than first thought. They have fooled us. The warriors in the canoes were a diversion. There was another force that had travelled through the forest on the distant river bank, and they have raided the Otaguttaouernin and taken captives. Wàgosh, they have Kwìngwìshì!”
With that Wàgosh jumped to his feet and grabbed his weapons.
“No, Wàgosh! We must wait for our people to come back. We are not strong enough in numbers to take on the Hochelagans until they arrive! If you go now they will leave with her and kill you in the process.”
“Mahingan, my brother, you are right. I’ll wait.”
“Asiniwàbidì, how many captives and warriors do they have?”
“Mahingan, it was hard to tell, but at least ten or twelve captives, all women and children. Warriors, they have twenty from the boats and another twenty-five or thirty from the woods.”
I then realized what had happened. “They must have left the other canoes down river on the eastern bank, then had those warriors continue on foot into the forest. That way when they were spotted on the river, their numbers didn’t cause any concern. When they were past all the village fires, they ferried the group travelling on foot to this side of the river and started their raid. Their plans must have been to raid all the way down the riverbank area until they reached their canoes.
“Warriors, our plans have changed. We will let them raid us, thinking they have caught us by surprise. When our allies reach us, we will lay the trap. Hopefully this rain stays at this intensity, keeping the Hochelagans pent up until our brothers arrive. We can’t risk attacking them. They’ll have guards out and be on edge because they are in a strange land. The captives will be well guarded. They will do nothing until they can get their canoes into calm water. Our force will have to be split to handle their two-sided attack — land and water. Hopefully enough Omàmiwinini answered our call to make this trap successful.
“This will be our plan. All the fires in the lodges will be kept ablaze to make it look like we are all here. They’ll probably attack in the early morning while we should all still be asleep. Their forces will come from the river and the nòpimìng (forest).
“They’ll only have three or four men watching the captives. Mitigomij and Wàgosh will free them.
“Asiniwàbidì, go back to Mònz and Miskwì and tell them of our plans. As soon as the Hochelagans break camp, come to us. With luck on our side, the storm will hold another day, and we’ll have more men.”
The next morning brought the same heavy winds and rain. For us this was a good omen. Soon after we awoke and started the morning cooking fire, our allies started to come in. There was Minowez-I (War Dance) from the Kinònjepìriniwak with eleven warriors behind him.
From the Matàwackariniwak came fourteen men led by Pangì Shìshìb (Little Duck) and also with them were the two famous women warriors, Agwanìwon Ikwe (Shawl Woman) and Kìnà Odenan (Sharp Tongue). These two women were as skilled as any men in a battle. They were childhood friends. Neither of their families had any sons who had lived to warriorhood. When they were young, they proved their bravery in a great battle with the Nippissing and since then they had been accorded every tribute that went with being a warrior. They were constant companions, having made their home together, and neither had ever married. They were accepted by all in the Algonquin Confederacy of tribes.
Lastly, the great warriors of the Nibachis came into camp following Ajowà Okiwan (Blunt Nose). They were nine strong.
This gave our force thirty-eight warriors, plus our ten. Forty-eight total, enough to defend and win if my plan fell into place. When the warriors sat down to eat, they renewed friendships and past glories. Extra rations were given to my three young runners who hadn’t eaten anything except dried meat since they had left.
Upon sitting down with Minowez-I, Pangì Shìshìb, and Ajowà Okiwan, we decided on our plan of action.
Minowez-I and Ajowà Okiwan would go to the river to fend off that force. Pangì Shìshìb and I would lay the trap at the village. It was agreed that Mitigomij and Wàgosh would rescue the captives.
Everyone knew that if one of us failed, it would bring disaster down on the rest of us. Surprise was of the utmost importance. Ironically, surprise was of the essence for our enemy also.
For
