The Fire Bird Part 4

Then I knelt in cunning like the fox, And swiftly working my way backward, With my steady, careful fingers I sifted the sands over our footsteps, Until I came to the feather gra.s.s And the dry leaves of the deep forest.

Like the hunted I ran to the safety of my wigwam, I buried myself in my soft robes of satisfaction, My heart laughed in victory, The sleep I had lost for many mocking moons While my brain thought snares, Now settled heavy, like sickness upon me.

Even as I slept in deep stupor, There came dreams and yet again dreams, But they were not familiar dreams Of the low humming rattler Nor the foaming mouth of the knife footed killer.

I dreamed that over my heart flamed and scorched And burned Couy-ouy, the little sacred red bird; While my hands could not braid And put the gay ornaments in my hair, Could not put on my robe, Could not tie my moccasins, Could not lift food to my hungry mouth, Because they were full of the white flowers From the land of the still water.

When the alarum cries sounded And the ponies' feet thundered, When the hunting dogs raged And shrill clamour arose in the camp, My Mother shook me, And long she looked deep into my eyes And I looked into her eyes; And then in the silent talk of our tribe I made the swift going down sign Of the Monster sands of the far bay.

There was no triumph on her face When she slowly turned from me, And fear was born in my heart Because I clearly saw its awful image When it sprang into life in the deeps of her eyes.

When the scouts and hunters were gathering, When the visiting Chief was threatening, And all of our Chiefs were in secret council, While the women were wailing the death cry, There came to my lodge in that hour, The footsteps I had always awaited.

So I pa.s.sed through my doorway And in the revealing sunlight I stood before Mountain Lion, Terrible to face in his deep rage.

With dazed hand I drew sleep from my eyes; I met his gaze stupidly with smiling face; When he saw this he was forced to doubt The thing he had come expecting to see.

When he tried to look far into my eyes for a sign He saw only stupid Old Man Sleep sitting there Mocking the tortured heart in his breast.

Then he caught me fiercely by the shoulders, He drew me close to him, He forced my eyes to meet his, And low and hoa.r.s.e he cried to me in torture: "She jumped to the mark of the sky flower, And the snake with death in its mouth was there; The mark was the mark you set for her, Yiada.

"She went to the far, lonely cave Of the chased and hungry black death, And the rare sh.e.l.l that she sought Was a part of your treasure, Yiada.

"Again she is missing, evil spirits know how long, What torture death have you sent her seeking now-- Couy-ouy, my brave fire bird, my woman?"

O Medicine Man, if he had not said soft words, I might have told him as he held me before him.

I might have braved the storm of his wrath And made my journey to the Great Spirit In that menacing breath.

When I saw that she lived in my place In the secret tent of his heart I laughed at him and I cried tauntingly: "She is chasing painted wings In the pasture meadows of the valley.

She is at the still pool hunting the water flower: She would use its white magic To snare your wild heart, Even as she used the red magic of the fire bird.

Go and seek her, O mighty hunter!

Go and seek--until you find her!"

PART III

YIADA'S FLIGHT TO THE MANDANAS

When the hunters had raced from our village Toward the land of ice, Toward the land of hot suns, Toward the land of dawn, And where the sun dives in the sea, In the conflicting cross winds Between the paths of their going, On their stoutest ponies Rode the young women and the squaws Who could be spared with safety From the watch of the campfires And the care of the little happy children.

[Ill.u.s.tration:

"_Like the wings of a snow white sea swallow Writing mating signs on the blue sky of Heaven Flashed his quick hands of entreaty, In the little love sign talk he taught her._"

Foremost among these I rode on my fastest pony, But to my Mother I made a secret sign To remain in waiting by her campfire And yet the swifter sign of the quick return.

Because I was first in the fish drying The berry picking of earth and mountain, The gathering of seeds of all kinds And the work of the women, The other maidens went where I sent them.

Then swiftly I made a wide circle And slipped back to the lodge of my Mother, And leaving my pony in the tented forest I crept to the door of my Father, Unseen by any of the watchers.

There I lay in hiding While my Mother worked silently.

She rolled a bundle of my finest robes, My moccasins, my best bow and full quiver, Big strips of smoked venison, Dried fish and bear and deer meat, Nuts and tallow cake and dried berries, And the last little sweet meal cake That her hands would ever make me.

When Old Man Moon made soft talk In his canoe among the clouds, From the back of the lodge of my Father I crept After I had stood long and again long Before my Mother, racked in fierce anguish, And made her many signs of the great crossing, For we knew that never again should I see her.

We made long straight talk between us That when the others returned from the search I should be missing, as was Couy-ouy, So that a new search would be made for my body.

Then should she cry the death wail Through the length of all our village for me; And make high prayer to the Great Spirit For my safe crossing to the Happy Lands.

Thus her lodge and wigwams And my Father and brothers Would be saved from all suspicion of treachery, And to the mourning of the Great Chief Who visited our campfires in confidence, Would be added the wailing of our tribe for Yiada.

I rode my Father's swiftest remaining pony, I turned my face between the sun's rising And the hot suns of the South.

I slipped through the forest and on, and on, Each moon on, and again on, Fast and far as the pony could run, I journeyed In the direction where my Mother had told me Lay the encampment of her people, the Mandanas.

When the tired pony could travel no farther I let him feed and rest and drink; And then again I rode, moon after moon, Until he grew lean as deep snow gray wolf.

When I had eaten the last crumb of meal cake, And there was nothing left in my bundle, But tough strings of deer meat, I came one sun-rising to signs of the Mandanas.

Then, O Medicine Man, I slipped from the pony and bathed carefully, I oiled my body, braided my hair with ornaments And I put on a snow white robe Whose bleaching had been taught my Mother By Couy-ouy as a secret art.

I stripped the beads and the obsidian From my heaviest necklace for ceremonials And wore only the sky water blue Of the precious blue sh.e.l.l.

When I looked into the s.h.i.+ning water Above the white sands of the lake bed, I saw in my face great beauty like high magic, Wrought by the fear painter, the hunger moon, The far stealthy journey, the anxious heart-- Beauty even greater than the beauty of Couy-ouy.

And so, O Medicine Man, At fire lighting I rode into the village.

The spies and the couriers raced before me, Crying the wonder of my coming, The fierce, snarling dogs yapped after me, The frightened children ran from me, Angered squaws with harsh voices Cried threatening, forbidding words at me.

When I came to the door of the Council House At the head of the long village of fatness, I slipped from my pony, and leading him after me I walked to the feet of the Great Chief Sitting in solemn state on his throne; I gave him the deeps of my troubled spirit.

My eyes slowly unfolded to his eyes The tale of the robbed heart, Of the tortured sleep, of the lone moon trail, Of a fugitive from the arrows of an enemy.

With Mandan speech and by the sign language I told him that I was of his blood, Of his tribe through my Mother; Seeking refuge with her people, And I told him, O Medicine Man, These things of woe, I now tell you.

Beside him came the Great Chiefs and wise men, Around him the warriors, the spies and hunters; While back of the chiefs, dim in the firelight, Again and again I felt the eye of a mighty hunter, A young Brave, with the broad shoulders The round face of compa.s.sion, And the softer eye of the Mandanas Of the lands where peace homed securely.

Little of my story had I told the Chieftain, As straight and fearless I faced him, Before I knew in my heart that over his head I was speaking to the stirred heart of his son.

I was asking of him rest and meat, and tribe rights, Even as Couy-ouy had asked meal and water Of Mountain Lion, instead of our women, For the broken fire bird that rested on her breast.

As I asked I knew the answer in his heart; For I was tall and I was seasoned, And I was tortured beyond bearing, And I was beautiful with a living spirit beauty Far above that of the Mandan women around me.

When they learned that my Mother Was of their tribe in her youth, That I had fled as the hunted for cave rights, They held counsel, and they set me a tall wigwam; They gave me the rich food of a welcome guest, And they led me to my wrinkled, gray grandfather.

The great council of Chiefs and Medicine Men, The wise men and all of the young Braves Made Mandan sign talk to hold me securely, As if born of their tribe and village, Even if Mountain Lion suspected treachery And rode in war paint against them for vengeance.

Then was my body lazy with rich comfort But my spirit was gray ashes Burned out by the flames of the fire bird Nesting in the heart of my breast.

I was all over sick for my Mother, For my brothers and my Father, who loved me, For the clear sky, the heavy clouds, And the taunting water of the restless sea, For the fat gra.s.s, the flower valleys And the tall mountains, with head-bands of snow, For the night fires of village and Council Lodge, And the little honey cakes of my Mother; While I dared not even remember The face of Mountain Lion's agony, As I tortured him in derision, And he turned from me in hot anger.

As the sign was in the deep eyes of Star Face, Son of the Great Chief, the night of my coming, So it was in the suns that followed.

Well I knew that in the day When he saw candle lighting in my eyes His willing feet would dance before me The hated Love Dance of the Mandanas.

He was a broad Brave, a fierce Brave, a warrior.

He would sit at the council in the seat of his father When he had made his last journey To the far Spirit Lands of final peace.

His earth-lodge would be warm With the skins of beaver, mink and otter; While the white dress of a great Princess From the bleached and softened doeskin, Beaded with the sign of the Chief's mate, Would cover my sick heart with the robe of pride.