THE PALACE AND ITS FURNITURE.
The chief’s love for his wife was a feeling so powerful that all others
had fallen into insignificance beside it. To please and gratify her were
the highest wishes he had, and, in spite of her white blood, her
education, she might well have been proud of his love.
His personal advantages were very great; he was one of the handsomest
men in the tribe, a bold, manly type of beauty, and had always been
regarded as the most prominent among the young chiefs. He was open and
honest to a degree astonishing in an Indian, with a regard for his word
which no temptation could have forced him to break, his whole character
presenting a strange contrast to that of Mahaska, whose highest action
was dictated by craft, and whose promises were only meant to deceive.
When she first came among them she had ordered the building of a stone
mansion, by the lake, which she styled her palace, and had carried out
her plans in spite of all difficulties.
“Where should the queen live?” she asked. “Is Mahaska a squaw that
Gi-en-gwa-tah should give her a bark wigwam? Yonder by the lake stands
the unfinished walls of her lodge; the queen will not have full faith in
the chief until he urges on her wishes and makes his lazy people toil to
complete it.” She would have no further discussion, and anxious to
gratify her the chief urged on the work with new zeal and haste, and
every morning when Mahaska looked out upon it, she could see her new
mansion assuming habitable shape. At length the palace, as she loved to
call it, was completed—the wonder and admiration of the whole tribe, who
had labored so faithfully in its construction.
It was now autumn; the forest wore the latest glory of its gorgeous
coloring. Already the leaves lay strewn like a rich carpet about the
paths of the wilderness; the wind caught a deeper and more mournful
tone, but the air was still balmy and soft, for the sunlight lay warm
and pleasant over the beautiful lake. It seemed as if the soft autumn
weather was lingering to the latest moment, unwilling to yield the last
traces of its beauty to the chill embrace and desolation of winter.
Meanwhile Mahaska was floating on toward the full tide of success in her
schemes; her control over the people increased a manner that was
magical, and the brave Gi-en-gwa-tah, with all his bravery, was chief
among her adherents and her servitors. The nature this untutored savage
appeared lifted out of itself by the love which filled his heart; reason
did not control his feelings, for Mahaska, as a woman, was so entirely
set apart from all other women that reverence and worship appeared her
due. She was satisfied with her influence over him, but her quick
perception perceived one fact—if the fulfillment of her wishes stood
between him and that which his stern sense of honor considered just, she
was certain to meet the most resolute opposition in her husband. When
that reflection occurred, the repulsion which she had from the first
harbored toward the chief, gained strength. But there was no trace of
these feelings in her manner; she grew more gentle and considerate, and
fairly dizzied his strong senses with the numberless fascinations she
cast about him.
Gi-en-gwa-tah was sorely troubled in his mind concerning the manner in
which the new dwelling was to be arranged. He had visited Quebec, seen
luxurious dwellings in several other cities, and knew what Mahaska had a
right to expect; but the attainment of his wishes was not easily
reached. He consulted with his intimate friends, and they held long
conversations, which would have amused and astonished those accustomed
only to the stern, hard side of the Indian character.
Gi-en-gwa-tah owned a rich store of furs and sundry valuables which he
had received from white traders in return for skins, and it was decided
between the two that these should go toward the adornment of the
mansion, although the chief was, by no means, satisfied, and his old
mother, Meme, who had now become an inmate of his lodge, according to
the usage of the tribe, took a true feminine delight in adding to his
perplexities. She had promised to keep his secret faithfully, and above
all not to reveal to Mahaska the doubts which disturbed his mind; but
the old woman soon found an excuse for informing her son’s wife of every
word he had said the first time they were alone.
“Gi-en-gwa-tah fears that Mahaska will pine for the luxuries that the
pale-faces love,” she said.
“The queen has a right to live like a sovereign,” she answered; “would
they have her sit on the ground like a squaw of burthen?”
“Gi-en-gwa-tah has many furs; he will make cushions for Mahaska; the
fire-places in her great lodge would each hold a wigwam.”
“The Great Spirit will send all that the queen needs,” said Mahaska.
The old woman looked at her wonderingly. She firmly believed in the
supernatural destiny of her new-found daughter.
“The Great Spirit will send power and victories,” she said.
“He will also send all that Mahaska requires,” persisted Mahaska.
“Mahaska has her visions; they warn her of all that will happen.”
“And will there come gifts like those of the governor-chief?” she asked,
in surprise.
Mahaska made a quick gesture; any allusion to her old life always
enraged her—the mention of a single name linked with the past shook her
self-control to its center.
“Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother babbles like a blind squaw,” she said,
contemptuously; “is she growing a child again?” then she added, quickly;
“let Gi-en-gwa-tah cease to trouble his mind. Such gifts as he has let
him carry into the queen’s palace; when the time arrives all that she
wishes will follow.”
The woman could not restrain her curiosity.
“When were these things promised to Mahaska?”
“Is it for Meme to question concerning the revelation of the Great
Spirit?” she demanded.
“Mahaska speaks wisely,” she replied; “Meme will seek to learn no more.”
“She shall see the palace blossom like the wilderness in summer,” said
Mahaska; “it shall become sacred among the Nations because it will be
filled with gifts from the Manitou.”
“May Meme repeat these things to Gi-en-gwa-tah?”
“Let her tell him all; what the queen has been promised shall come to
pass before he leads her to the dwelling.”
It was the most bewildering thing that had ever happened to the old
woman—she could not in the least comprehend it; but she placed the
utmost faith in Mahaska’s words and waited patiently for their
fulfillment.
She went back to the chief, and, without revealing her betrayal of his
confidence, told him of Mahaska’s words, which filled his mind with
wonder equal to her own.
Gradually it crept about among the people that the Spirit had promised
to send rich gifts to their queen, and they regarded her with new awe
and reverence.
There was more truth in the queen’s assertion concerning the promised
gifts than appeared probable; although she certainly did not base her
expectations upon any supernatural agency. She was left free in her
actions; the only person who ever watched her movements was
Gi-en-gwa-tah, and he did it only from the restlessness of his great
affection. She was accustomed to take long rides in solitude—to row upon
the lake night or day; but she did not fail to give even these
relaxations a mysterious signification. She told the Indians that
spirit-voices spoke to her, and in the wind that rocked her canoe upon
the moonlit waters she held communion with the shade of her ancestor,
the great prophet, Nemono. By these means she secured herself against
intrusion; even Gi-en-gwa-tah would not have ventured to watch her
movements at such times, for fear of bringing the anger of the Manitou
upon himself by intruding upon those religious rites which he had been
taught to venerate.
We have spoken of the plot which from the first had been forming in her
mind to win the Six Nations from their alliance with the French, and
carry their power over to the English in the warfare then imminent. This
desire had been seconded in the most unexpected manner, while she was
revolving means for obtaining communication with the English leaders.
Her advent among the Indians already was a subject of much curiosity
with the whites, and a politic English Governor determined to do every
thing in his power to win her good offices in bringing to his side the
assistance of the Indian tribes then pledged to the interests of the
French.
Mahaska had gone out to ride in the forest; she was miles beyond the
Indian village, galloping wildly along, feeling a sort of relief in the
swift pace and freedom from all human observation. Suddenly a form
started up before her in the path; she checked her horse and
instinctively her right hand clenched the tomahawk which she always
carried in her girdle, although she supposed it to be some one of her
own tribe who had wandered there upon a hunting expedition. The savage,
made signs of friendly greeting and approached her horse. As he drew
near she recognized a half-breed whom she had known at Quebec—a man
afterward discovered to be an English spy, but who had escaped
punishment by a dextrous flight.
“Rene,” she called in French; “Rene.”
He bounded toward her, and with elaborate signs of respect began pouring
forth a volley of delight at seeing her again.
“What brings you here?” she asked, checking his compliments.
“The desire to see Mahaska once more,” he answered.
She smiled, then darted a stern glance at him.
“You are an English spy,” she said; “the Indians are friendly with the
French; have you come to carry back information concerning their
movements?”
“No, lady; the Virgin is my witness, no.”
“If you were discovered and recognized they would put you to death.”
“But the queen would protect me; you would not let them harm poor Rene,”
he said, humbly.
“Why should I interfere? What interest can I have in your life?”
“Because I have endangered it in seeking you,” he replied; “you would
not allow an humble messenger to be molested.”
“You were seeking _me_?” she repeated.
He made a gesture of assent.
“And a messenger, you say? From whom? What do you want?”
He drew close to her horse; she still kept her hand on the hilt of her
tomahawk, watching his movements with her eagle glance, but evinced no
fear.
“Can I speak openly?” he almost whispered. “Is there no one to overhear
me?”
“We are quite alone; tell me your errand at once.”
“I have a letter for you, lady; I was to place it in your own hands with
all secrecy. Wait—you shall see how Rene fulfills the commands of those
who employ him.”
He thrust his hand into his hunting-shirt and tore it open at the
breast; made a slit in the lining with his knife and drew out a sealed
package.
“There it is,” he said; “it will tell you all you wish to know.”
Mahaska grasped the letter, feeling confident that in some way this
epistle would aid her schemes. She motioned the spy to retire, and he
crept away to some distance with the stealthy tread which had become
natural to him.
Mahaska allowed the reins to fall upon the neck of her well-trained
steed, and broke the seal of the letter. Still she did not relinquish
her vigilance; her quick ear caught the least movement of the half-breed
as if it were some artfully-spread snare she was quite ready to meet.
But the instant her eyes fell upon the writing her suspicions vanished,
for she recognized the signature of the English Governor.
The letter was long and artfully written, making it appear for her
interest to bring the Indians over to the English. There were liberal
promises of gifts and money—messengers were waiting her answer to set
forth at once to consult with her.
Mahaska folded up the letter and concealed it in her bosom. For a few
moments she yielded herself to the reflections called up by this new
opening for her schemes of vengeance. She, however, soon aroused herself
and turned toward the half-breed.
“Can you come to my lodge to-night for the answer?” she asked.
“Yes, lady.”
“But if you are seen you will be scalped before I can interpose.”
“Rene can skulk like a fox,” he said; “there is no danger.”
“Then come after midnight; you will find me at the entrance and will
carry the letter I shall give you to the English Governor without loss
of time.”
He bowed in silence; she gathered up the reins and galloped swiftly back
toward the village.