EPISODE FIFTEEN - RUNNING WOLF
Rebecca watched Matoaka’s face as she finished telling the story of her people. Mato looked over at Seabreeze and asked if working for her was the continuation of Ham’s curse that his descendants will serve the descendants of Japheth. Rebecca was surprised by the question. She had never thought of Matoaka as a servant, more like a companion and had insisted on her companionship when leaving the house in Philadelphia. She had had no idea that Mato was a Lenapi princess, but she could tell that there was something unusual about her. Mato always carried herself with poise and serenity no matter what the occasion.
Seabreeze quietly asked Mato if there had been any men in her life before coming to live with the family. Mato glanced back with tears in her eyes and said there was one young brave from the Blackfeet tribe that she fell in love with when she was only 16 years old. The braves and young boys in her tribe of Delaware were hesitant to approach her father, since none were sons of a chief and the neighboring tribes were at war with hers most of the time, so the Six Nations braves were not in a position to offer marriage. Mato was beautiful and braves would watch her walk by but none would talk or go near her. She spent most of her time with the girls of the village or practicing fighting routines with her father, who had no sons and was concerned that she be able to lead the tribe when he died. This was not the tradition of the Lenapi for a woman to become chief and she would have to defeat the best fighter in the village to become their leader.
At three, her father told the stories of the Red Record and how she fit into the history of men. She listened for hours without getting tired to all the tales of war and migration and could recite all accounts without adding or leaving out a single fact. At four, he had her run till she’d fall asleep while still running and would eventually run into a tree or bush and collapse to the ground. At five, he had her handle the knife and spear until it became difficult for him to get past her defenses with either weapon. At six it was bow and arrow practice till sunset each day. Then starting at seven and continuing until she was ten her father took her with him everywhere and she was taught the history of their tribe and how to lead a tribe with fairness and honor. By twelve she was ready to lead but had no chance to defeat a warrior of the clan. At seventeen her father died in battle with the Mohawk Bear Clan and there was fighting as to who would lead the tribe. Her husband Running Wolf was not eligible since he was not born in the village. She was not allowed to fight since all three of the braves fighting for chief were over 25 years of age. She could hold her own in bows and arrows and gunfire but could not match their strength in hand to hand battle. When the victor, “Two Hands Climbing” emerged she refused to look at him and stayed to herself for weeks afterward.
Meanwhile in Alberta, a young boy they call Running Wolf was being taught the ways of the Blackfoot. For 7000 years the Blackfoot used the hill site known as Head-Smashed In for the center of their culture. They were nomadic people who followed the buffalo. It is hard to lead a nomadic lifestyle when there is no place to go. They were hemmed in by other First Nation tribes.
The Blackfoot Confederacy consisted of four different tribes; the Pikuni/Peigan, the North Peigan Pikuni, the Blood/Kainai and the Blackfoot/Siksika. They had all migrated from the Great Lakes Region. They were nomadic buffalo hunters. Long before they began trading for horses with the Flathead, Kutenai, and the Nez Perce, after being attacked by the Shoshoni, Running Wolf told the tribal counsel that the tribe would need horses if they were to continue following the buffalo herds. They ended up trading hides, horses, and guns with settlers as far away as the east coast. Just before the Sundance Festival, the most important event of the year, Running Wolf set off for the east with nothing more than a knife, a bow, and two dozen of the straightest arrows in the territory. It was spring and he was able to run at least 20 miles a day easily. He had always run without getting winded. As a baby he would kick his legs as if he was running and got his name for doing so.
As he crossed the various territories of other tribes, he would run at night if there was any moonlight whenever possible. In the day he would allow extra energy for when they would chase him. He stuck to deer trails and other such passages to avoid the main paths, so a lot of branches would slap at his arms and chest and he became immune to the sting of branches. At night if there was no moonlight he would rest under bushes where being stepped on was unlikely. At 21 he was in the prime of his life and took pride in just how fast he could run, changing from paced to frantic to keep a mix going. He would take some risks when jumping, but he had to keep in mind that if he was injured he would be at the mercy of strangers. Mercy was not what many of the tribes were known for in those days. His favorite game was rabbit. He could eat the whole animal and it would not require him carrying any left over after he ate. His meals were cold as not to be seen in the dark. A fire can be seen for miles at night, even a small one. After two months on the run he had lost whatever extra fat a brave might have when living in a village.
He was not born to a chief or elder in the village, so by the time the eligible women were chosen he was left with only girls 10 years younger and he didn’t feel like waiting till they got older. This was one of the reasons he left his family and tribe at 21 to seek his future in the east. One of the elders had a vision and said to him “Go east young man, go east.” The only extra weight he was to carry later in his adventures was tobacco, the currency of the colonies.
Each morning he would wait till the sun was visible before setting off if the sun was not visible the night before and he could set a marker of some sort to show due east. He figured he would come out around the middle of the colonies if he kept true east. After three months he was crossing the last range of mountains, later called the Appalachian Mountains. In 90 days he had only been seen 12 times and chased 3 times. Only once did the braves involved get close enough to worry Running Wolf. It was in the Ohio Valley along a great river. Rivers were always a problem since he had no canoe. It was late in the afternoon and hot. He was trotting more than running when he came around a bluff and there swimming in the river were several young braves. They hadn’t been making any noise since they were supposed to be doing chores in the village, not swimming. Normally the sounds of yelling and splashing would have been heard way in advance and Running Wolf would have carefully gone around the group. He changed from trotting to full wind run in half a second. He saw five in the water and three on the bank, two were flat on their backs. Unfortunately one was standing and with Running Wolf going by within 20 feet of the three, The brave standing was able to reach down grab his bow and pull back on an arrow so fast that Running Wolf had to run a zig-zag pattern for fifty feet before he turned the corner of the far end of the bluff overlooking the river. The first of three arrows went over his head as he watched it land then drop into the bushes at the bottom of the bluff. The second was much closer and he heard it whiz by his head on his left just after he zagged right. The third found its mark and sunk into left triceps as he rounded the corner and was gone from sight. He heard a war cry as the brave announced to all he had hit the runner. What came next was the faint sound of war cries as several young and excited braves began the chase.
He was now running for his life and even people out of shape can run like the wind when it means whether they live or die. Running Wolf was not out of shape in fact since he had been taking it easy all morning had plenty of energy to spare and the adrenaline of the moment gave him too much power at first. He had to mentally slow his pace and concentrate on breathing slower while maintaining a blistering pace that would have any other man winded within 2-3 minutes of the pace. The arrow was sunk deep in the back of his arm so deep he was sure it had lodged in the bone. The first reaction was to stop and deal with the arrow but he resisted the urge and maintained his pace of flying along and over anything he came across. He needed both arms pumping to maintain the flow of his stride developed over months of running so for now the arrow stayed where it was and he concentrated on running even though each stride pulled on the arrow just enough to remind that it was there. As the miles stretched on and on he got the feeling they had given up and turned back but if he guessed wrong he would die, so on he went through the night with the help of a bright moon and clear sky of stars.
It was now a full day of running and he stopped at the top of a high hill to look back and see if pursuit was still coming after him. As he sat there looking back down the long sloping hill side he thought about his village and how very far away he was. It made him a little sad that he would never go back. Two hours went by and still no braves coming up the hill. He figured they gave up or he was in still another tribes land and they stopped at the border. He then put attention to the arrow in his arm. The wound was red and infected as well as swollen. He twisted the shaft back and forth till he was sure he had lined up the arrow head with the slot of an opening. Then he pulled on the arrow until he felt he had made it past the muscles in the arm. The fact that he had worked it back towards the surface indicated he had cleared the bone. If it been lodged in the bone it wasn’t any longer. Then with the back corners of the head sticking out of the slightly closed slot he pulled it the rest of the way out. The pain shot through him in a wave of pain that caused a convulsive spasm of nausea and faintness. He closed his eyes and concentrated on being one with nature at that moment not a human in among nature but nature itself. When he opened his eyes he saw a wolf in the distance watching him intently. He wondered if it was real or his mind drawing strength from his name and status in the tribe as a wild animal that was merely passing through the lives of those in the village. When he looked down he saw some fungus that his people used as a poultice. That night he tossed and turned as the infection slowly was drawn up into the fungus.
The mountains were the highest he had been in, ever, and he struggled to run up hill as he had in the Great Plains. The Eastern side of the ranges of course allowed him the freedom to coast downhill and he made good time, sometimes 40 miles a day.
Finally, after months on the run, Running Wolf entered a new territory according to the signs on the trees. Many of the signs seemed familiar as if a tribe of Blackfoot had gone east long before. A half mile into the new area and he felt someone was watching him. This feeling became stronger the further he went. Then he came to a stop. Six braves with bows readied stood around him in a circle and it was obvious that he couldn’t get away without risking death, no matter how fast he could run and dodge arrows. They led him back to their village to present to their chief. The village was very large with several hundred men, women, and children. He noticed right away that he understood them remarkably well and told them he was Blackfoot from the Great Plains. They all got quiet and began talking among themselves about him being a Blackfoot. A young brave about his age came over to say he would be his guide out of the territory when he was ready to leave but he could stay as long as he wanted, even join the tribe and marry if he wanted to.
The brave’s name was Kowena, “deer man” he did much of the hunting for several families that were related. He led Running Wolf back to his tent and introduced him to his wife and kids. Then the two sat by the fire and Kowena told the history of the tribe Saponi or Tutelo. We are Siouan people and our bloodlines trace back to the Blackfoot Nation. We have traces of blood that go to West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, Iowa, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, New York, Missouri, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Texas, Virginia, North Carolina, and in Canada in Ontario, Alberta, and British Columbia. As far as anyone knows the Blackfoot nation spread to more areas than any other race of Indians. Tutelo were adopted into the Six Nations tribes of Ontario, Canada. Saponi people are also core blood lines in the forming of the “melungeon” in the entire Appalachia and the “Portugeuse” in the Southern states.
Kowena asked if Running Wolf would like to go with a war party to South Carolina to join other tribes in destroying the colonists. The South Carolina colonists had been trading captured braves into slavery, in spite of promises not to. They had been doing so since they were established in 1670. The Tuscarora had been run out of the territory in a war 1711-1713, now two years later the colonists wanted to run out all the Indians as well. News had come that the Cherokee who were constantly at war with their neighbors were driving the Shawnee northward out of the Cumberland River region. They were also conducting an on going hereditary war with the Creeks (Muscogee) and started a long war with the Chickasaw. Kowena said the war party would not be going up against the Cherokee and would return after a few weeks. Running Wolf was tempted, but wanted to see the northern territories before he decided where to settled down and raise a family. He had wanted a family for some time but circumstances arose that prevented that from happening.
Running Wolf, now that he was off the Great Plains, saw the political struggle between France and England. Many tribes preferred the French because the French treated them with respect. The British considered the Indians as an inferior race, for that matter they considered all non-English whites as inferior. This snobbish attitude was noticed by all and created much of the problems experienced by the British.
Running Wolf looked down at Kowena’s chest and noticed a necklace with a symbol of the cow hanging on it by itself. He had seen the cow on the occasional necklace throughout his life but never thought much of it. This time, he was going to ask. Kowena said it went back to the 14th century BCE among the ancient Semitic peoples, the descendants of Shem, the oldest of Noah’s sons. Baal means “lord”, “master”, or “owner”. It is commonly thought of as a Canaanite fertility deity. The cult of Baal celebrated his death and resurrection by ceremonies that included human sacrifice and temple prostitution.
The myth says that after defeating the sea god Yam, and taking possession of numerous cities, Baal announced that he would no longer acknowledge the authority of Mot, “death”, and restricted Mot’s visits to earth to only deserts. In response Mot invited Baal to his abode to taste his fare, mud. Being terrified and unable to avoid the summons, Baal coupled with a calf in order to strengthen himself for the ordeal. Baal’s wife, Anat, with the sun goddess, Shapash’s help brought Baal’s corpse back for burial. She begged Mot to restore Baal to life, and when he refused she ripped him to pieces, scattered him with a “winnowing fan”, burned him in fire, ground him in a mill and strewn his remains in the field. Athtar, the irrigation god, fled his throne. Mot tried again but this time all the gods fought him. Neither Baal nor Mot could gain the victory, so El, the king of gods, intervened and dismissed Mot, leaving Baal in possession of the field.
This myth relates to the alternation of the seasons. Baal is the god of rain, thunder, and lightning. Baal was the son of El, or Dagon, an obscure deity linked by the Hebrews with the Philistine city of Ashdod. As far apart as Carthage and Palmyra were temples dedicated to Baal-Hammon. Baal, the sun god, was fervently prayed to for the protection of livestock and crops. The cults of Baal spread throughout the Mediterranean world, including the Moabities, Midinities, and the Israelities. In the Bible Baal is also called Berelzebub, or Baalzebub, one of the fallen angels of Satan.
As Kowena finished the story of the amulet, he thought again of where he had seen the previous cow images. They were typically hanging from medicine men when the people needed rain and at weddings when children were desired. Running Wolf thought about how handy the god of rain fertility and the sun could be in the lives of men. He went back to the teepee that he was assigned and laid down to think on these things and how an ancient god of the Canaanities made it to the Americas over 3000 years later.
Running Wolf took the time to look over the unattached women in the village, but found none to his liking. He knew he would have to come up with some other reason for his moving on after being invited to join the tribe. He lay quietly, thinking of exactly how he would announce that he would be moving north.
The next morning he accepts a gift of Baal on its own necklace that he will keep for protection later in his adventure as a symbol of peace and not of war. He thanked the elders of the village for their hospitality and said he would always treat Blackfoot with the same kindness when he found them in his travels. With a polite goodbye, he headed north to Virginia and Maryland.
Staying close to the Atlantic Ocean, which he found fascinating, he couldn’t see the other side even when he climbed to the top of the highest tree he could find. Once again he stayed away from the villages to help ensure he wouldn’t get caught again. He traveled at night through the Occaneechi, Nottoway,Piedmont, Monacan, and Manahoac lands. The ridges above the shorelines were the easiest to follow in the dark. The way was always visible at night because the reflection of the water was uniform and therefore gave a definite edge to the trial as a far out side border. Also the tribes would not have their villages on the crest of the ridges so far from the water so he was relatively safe to move at some pace short of running. Animal trails were on top of ridges from deer and other animals that used the tops of ridges for the same reason, maximum visibility. By this point Running Wolf was a machine when he moved. No extra effort was used in moving along. All his energy was kept in reserve because he didn’t know when he would have to spurt into a run of miles to escape capture.
As he made his way up the Delaware coastline, he began to make his way up the west bank of the Delaware River. It was along this stretch of the east coast that Running Wolf began to ask himself where was his destination. In a matter of a month or two he would be in Ontario region back to a tribe of Blackfoot that formed the easternmost part of the Blackfoot nation. It was fall and already the nights were cold. He thought maybe he had gone too far north and maybe he should head south to find a place that had better year-round weather. So he stopped running for the first time in months and spent two days thinking about what he wanted to do. It was this pause in his journey that got him captured again by Monseys, or Minisinks, braves on a deer hunting mission. They brought him back with his hands tied behind him and secured him on two flat rocks near the tribal fire in the center of the village. The chief and the counsel met that night, all of them around the fire with Running Wolf stretched out before them. From his travels he was able to pick up enough Algonquin dialectic phrases to tell his story with sign language to help smooth out the unfamiliar words he used. The counsel listened closely to the tale of a brave running over the entire continent with little or no impedance from local tribes. When he finished his tale the counsel talked for some time, but Running Wolf only understood some of the conversation.
Then, there was silence as the counsel stopped discussing his fate. He lay there wondering what had been decided. Hopefully his story was one worthy of allowing him to live. Then one of the younger members of the tribe stood up, walked over to a large tree just out of sight of the firelight, and returned with a big hatchet blade mounted on a long pole. Running Wolf felt a wave of nausea rush over his body as his death seemed just seconds away. He closed his eyes, then opened them again in a hurry. It was worse with his eyes closed not knowing when the blade would come down. The brave was short but muscular. His face showed no emotion as he came closer and closer. The hatchet pole held straight up in the air looked like it was twenty feet long, the blade barely perceivable in the starless night. He felt sweat pouring down his forehead and chest as he tried to think of something that would stop the ceremony in its tracks.
He called out the name Baal, sun god of the Canaanites to save him. The amulet of a cow shined in the light of the fire. In the name of all those that crossed the ice bridge into this land, fleeing Hu the Great in his last days. The brave stopped at the words ice bridge mentioned in the Red Record, a sacred book to the Lenni Lenape nation.
TO BE CONTINUED