JOURNEY TO THE MIDNIGHT SUN
James Sheldon
LOVE CONQUERS ALL
Book 1 of 3
Chapter 14
“Good morning, darling,” looking on as John came to consciousness.
“Good morning,” groggily, his eyes half open, the slumber of night like a mask not yet removed from his face.
“I’ve been watching you sleep.”
“Oh really,” still looking out through slits. “Have you been up long?”
“Long enough to stoke the fire,” her eyes bright, her long hair falling all about while, in her mouth, she chewed some unidentified fruit.
“What are you eating?”
“Here, I have one for you,” taking a tiny object from her palm, holding it between her fingers.
“Wait,” trying to resist, not yet fully awake.
“It’s only a berry,” giggling, pushing it into his mouth.
Chewing, John tasted the creamy, sweet, cool, minty flavor of wintergreen. Thus suspecting his wife’s intention, a smile came to the corners of his mouth.
“Just one left,” said Laureal, placing it on her tongue. Then, with a gleam in her eye, she pressed her lips to John’s and he took it from her mouth.
Meanwhile in the longhouse, the rest of the family, having finished their breakfast, made use of their time while waiting for the newlyweds to arrive.
“See how straight the stitch is,” Emma pointed out to Sophie. The child knelt on the bench at the long table, directly beside and pressed up against the Matriarch, that she may watch and help the women put finishing touches on clothing made for the coming summer. “See how evenly it rounds the corner,” Emma continued. “That stitch tells a story about the person that made it. It is good work, and all that see it know that good work comes from good hands, and good hands tell of the good intent in one’s heart and mind. Do you know who made that stitch?”
“My mommy!”
Noah, meanwhile, sat down the way beside Cody where he watched and helped the teen make fish hooks from the breast bones of grouse.
Pausing, Cody look to Emma, “Grandma?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Shall I summon the rabbits?”
“Cody!” Jessie chided.
Cody only shrugged, as if to grant his own pardon based on grounds of honesty.
Mia grinned but said nothing.
Emma only shook her head, a silent reply that meant, “No.”
“What rabbits?” asked Noah.
Not ten minutes later, Laureal came through the door, “Good morning, everyone!”
“Good morning,” came their replies.
Having hung her coat, Laureal went to the hearth where, taking ladle in hand, she fetched herself a bowl of hot cereal. Then seating herself at the long table, she smiled at them, her eyes glazed with a blissful afterglow.
“Where’s John?”
“He’s checking on Ellie.”
“I already made sure she has hay and water,” said Cody.
John came through the door, “Good morning, all!”
“Good morning, John.”
“Good morning.”
“Thank you Cody, for haying and watering Ellie.”
“You’re welcome. I was already out there anyway, feeding the dogs.”
While John removed his coat and overpants Laureal fetched him a bowl of hot cereal and met him at the table, “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“You’re welcome, darling.”
Leaning over his steaming cereal, John savored the aroma of stoneground wild wheat. He added honey from a clay fired jar, sprinkled in a handful of walnuts and picked up his wooden spoon in anticipation.
Mia passed a saucer containing sundried wedges of apple and pear. Laureal returned with two steaming mugs of tea, a mild blend of forest herbs sweetened with a dash of honey. It didn’t take long for the lovers to finish their breakfast, whereupon Laureal cleaned up while John brought in an armload of firewood.
Emma waited until the newlyweds were reseated. Then, looking from one family member to the next, “We all share the same hope. We want to hold on to what we love. We want the best for those we love. We want to keep the land on which we all depend. We want to keep our way of life. And to do this, we need to find worthy replacements to the men we have lost. And as you all know, I planned to enlist the help of our cousins and friends when we meet in our hunting grounds this summer. I am certain they would help us but, of course, this would reveal our vulnerability and, at least to a degree, make us reliant on charity and, because of our situation, render us willing to settle for what we can get. Now, however, I would like to adopt an entirely new plan. A plan that previously crossed my mind but, until this recent change of plans regarding John and his giant Ellie, seemed out of the question.”
The Matriarch paused for a sip of tea. Then, setting her cup down, “This is going to take some time to explain, so bear with me. I will begin by saying that Jessie, Mia, and I have spoken and agreed, we are ready to rebuild. We know that if we are to meet the challenges of living in these woods, we must have high quality men. And I know, we women can laugh and joke about what that means but, when it comes down to the nitty-gritty…we know. We know that if we are to be free from the whims of those that would claim dominion over us, we need men that possess the courage and skill to defend our territory and way of life. We need right thinking men, so that together we avoid mistakes that lead to downfall and sorrow. And if we are to foster what is most near and dear to our hearts, we need men that fully invest their hearts.”
Turning to her fellow widows, Emma continued, “Nearly six months have passed since disaster changed the course of our lives…all our lives,” nodding to John with an inclusive tone. “Summer will be here before we know it. Our isolation will be at an end. News of our loss will take foot and run quickly ahead of us. Fast down the trails it will go, through summer hunting grounds and camps until it is known far and wide that the strongest family in the House of Emerson has fallen. Our kin will do what they can for us but, as I have said, our clan is only a shadow of what it once was. Still, there is much good-heartedness among our people. Pressed though they may be, some will step forward and offer their time. Many will express their sympathy. There will be encouraging gestures. Sadly though, there will be others that see us as ‘ripe for the picking.’ With their eyes on our land, they will come with false smiles and insincere condolences. Worse yet, in these times of weakness, it is possible we might find ourselves caught up in a fight with a rival clan.”
Sober looks went round the table. Their faces, illuminated by oil lamps, cast shadows like thoughts to dance in place on surrounding walls. And perhaps if those walls could talk they might not say a word but only listen, that they may one day tell of a fateful morning when a fellowship formed at the threshold of the unknown, beyond which awaited a journey that none could imagine.
Emma turned to the youngest widow, “Mia, you have two small children in tow, and that could present a problem for finding a husband, as it is a man’s nature to invest in his own blood. However, you are the widow of a warrior that fell in battle, a champion of the House of Emerson, synonymous with courage and valor. Honor, respect, and wealth come as a package with you. And you are young, just twenty-five, and beautiful with fine figure and determined nature. Therefore, I think it safe to assume our prospects are bright for finding you a deserving husband.”
Mia thanked Emma and, as she did, the shape of her well-formed lips signaled resolve. The look in her eyes, like deep dark pools, told of her desire to live. She was ready, and Emma wasted no time.
“Jessie, it stands to reason that you would have more difficulty finding a man than Mia, and I would have greater difficulty yet. But then again, it stood to reason that we would not survive the winter, and yet, here we are with every reason to go forward. I am proud of you, daughter. You have raised three children. You know what marriage requires. You have the gift of thirty-eight years. You survived the disaster at the river crossing as a young wife. You then threw yourself into the challenge, that our family may not vanish altogether. The fact that you have such a résumé at this place and time cannot be a coincidence. And you are yet young! You may find an honorable widower of your age, perhaps with children like you. A man looking for a woman like you. A man old enough to know a good thing and still youthful enough to know what to do with it. A man only now coming into his true prime. For you are only now coming into yours.”
“Thank you, mother.” The flickering firelight on Jessie’s face seemed to in ally itself with her physical constitution, making for such a deception, she could scarcely be taken for thirty-seven. On closer look, however, into large emerald eyes, one might gleam the traces of a life’s story worth knowing. Presently, Jessie looked from one family member to the next, “Our Maker would not have seen us this far if he did not mean to see us all the way.”
“He will, mother. I am certain of it!”
Reaching out, Jessie took Laureal’s hand and, without words, shared feelings of hope and optimism. A subtle smile revealed Mia’s dimples as she looked to the tiny table just off the hearth where the twins busied themselves. Cody pushed a batch of fish hooks across the long table and John nodded in approval. Emma, meanwhile, took stock in all these signs and she knew the family had gotten over a mountain. It was a special moment in time, made all the sweeter when mother and daughter met one another gaze to share their sacred bond.
It ended too soon. A sudden sadness overtook the younger and her eyes fell to the table. Fleeting though it be, Emma knew the current business had touched an old wound. A wound known only to the two of them. Years before when Jessie had come of age, she had given her heart to a young man with great hope and enthusiasm. Then, in an eleventh hour decision, the family chose another for her. And although seemingly the end of the world for the girl, in the end she accepted the will and guidance of her elders. To Jessie’s credit, she and her husband not only learned to love but built a healthy happy family. And so it seemed in Emma’s thinking that no good could come from rehashing the old question as to whether she should have sided with her daughter in the ordeal. She alone knew how Jessie had cried.
Steeling herself, the Matriarch proceeded as duty demanded, “Jessie, Mia, it would be all too easy for us to find a family looking to expand their scope of power through marriage, as in they offer us security in trade for our land. So I will say this just once. I will not consider any deal of that sort! We have one another. We have faith. We know the value of hard work and honesty. We know how to weather the little storms that sometimes erupt between us. We have the basics on which great families are built. We only need men that feel as we do.”
Listening to the Matriarch, John Summerfield pondered his role. His eyes, having moved from one family member to the next, wandered away to the longhouse wall where several sets of snowshoes hung just inside the heavy oak door. The frames of the snowshoes had been made by the men. The netted decks that filled the frames were made by the women. Everyone had a part to play. Also on the wall hung a good many spears, bows, arrows, and a few hatchets. Tools and weapons made by the men. On the same wall but on the other side of the door hung a row of heavy fur coats and pants, winter armor made by the women. No small fortune hung on that wall. In fact, the fruits of the family’s labor were to be found high and low throughout the longhouse. Fortunes spun from nature. Spun from knowledge passed on and refined from one generation to the next, combined with skill derived from countless hours of labor. Too many riches to count, to mention nothing of what the women wore for house clothes. Sable, mink, ermine, fox and lynx. Still, all their belongings were but a pittance in comparison to the value of the territory they held. And because John had come to know them, he understood that all their holdings put together amounted to nothing when compared to the value they placed on their freedom. Perfect it was not, but it was their way of life, and without it, living meant nothing to them.
John returned his eyes to the Matriarch. Sitting upright at the end of the long table, Emma’s entire being told of stubborn will and hope. Her long experience, etched into the lines of her face, gave her a different kind of beauty than that of her youth. A different kind of beauty, framed by large gray braids mixed with free flowing locks falling down like silver on shoulders clad in sable. She could easily have been an old Viking queen who, in the aftermath of a battle lost, must take the helm with a singular focus, being the survival of her people.
“As I said,” Emma continued, “I once thought we had but one path before us. I planned to use our connections with cousins and friends in our summer hunting grounds. But now, knowing that John and his giant will be coming with us, and having seen what his giant is capable of, and what we are capable of…I believe I can disregard my old plan in favor of the plan I previously thought out of the question. Not a plan based on settling for what we can get, but rather, a plan that, if successful, will net us the finest men to be found anywhere.”
Jessie and Mia exchanged looks while fire logs cracked and popped in the stone hearth.
Emma turned to the Seeker, “John, as you know by the charts we made at this table, our summer hunting ground is located north across the two great rivers that meet and flow east as one (the Saskatchewan Rivers). You also know that if one were to continue north from there, far north, to the edge of the realm, they would come to a hunting ground on the shores of a vast lake that few of our people have laid eyes on.”
“Roderick's Grounds,” said John.
“It is said to be of such bounty, as to have no rival!” Cody interjected.
To which John added, “And it takes its name from the most famous hunter in all of Kasskatchen history, Roderick the Wolf.”
Summerfield smiled, for already he had learned several of the Roderrick tales. Roderick and the Golden Eagle. Roderick and White Bear. Roderick and the Storm King. The very name was synonymous with Kasscatchen legend stories. Popular fireside tales, most containing instructive lessons for children and adults alike.
Aiming to keep the family on the business at hand, Emma had only opened her mouth to continue when Mia suddenly chimed in, “Roderick and the Shadow, is my favorite.” Then, looking between Seeker and Matriarch, and seeing a certain kind of smile on Emma’s lips, Mia became sheepish, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Roderick and the Shadow?” asked John. “Sounds eerie. Is it good?”
The Matriarch gave a little nod, as though to give Mia her blessing.
“The whole story?” somewhat confused.
“No, no,” chuckling in the knowledge of a very long tale. “Only the gist for now, if you would.”
Mia turned to John, “Well…in the story, Roderick pursues the rarest creature in all the forest. For many days and nights, through thickets and torrents…”
“…he chased after the beast,” Cody jumped in excitedly. “Then at last, with his spear at the ready, he stood on the threshold of his greatest victory ever. For he had run down the most elusive creature in all of nature! The very shadow of the forest itself!”
“Cody!” Jessie chided, “you interrupted your cousin.”
“And you jumped to the end of the story,” Laureal scolded, echoing her Mother’s stern tone.
“Sorry,” quipped the boy, glancing about in hope of a supportive look, of which there were none.
“What happened?” John asked, turning back to Mia, his curiosity piqued.
“Well, in the story, Roderick pursues his prey not for food or clothing but on account of its uniqueness. Its pelt alone was worth a kingdom. But more, if Roderick could eat of its flesh, he would gain magic power as promised to the hunter by a wood nymph. The nymph never appears to Roderick in plain view but beguiles him with its enchanting voice and eyes, gazing out from the openings of hollow logs, abandon animal burrows, rocky overhangs and shadowy thickets. Egged on by the nymph, Roderick’s moment of truth comes when, having run his quarry down after a great chase, a ray of moonlight pierces the forest canopy like a spear thrown down from heaven to stick in the ground before him. In the shaft of moonlight, Roderick sees all the gifts that have already been placed in his possession by the hand of the Creator, and, he spares the beast.”
“What beast?” asked John.
“A black stag.”
John’s eyes went wide, “A black stag?” chuckling. “I’ve heard tales of white stags. But a black stag?” And laughing all the more, “There’s no such thing…is there?” suddenly falling silent, glancing around the table.
“In a hunter’s lifetime,” Emma began, “it is doubtful he will ever see a white stag, the ghost of the forest. But a black stag, the shadow of the forest, is even more rare…far more rare. A hunter could live a dozen lifetimes and never see one, and yet they do exist. It is said that the hunter that eats the flesh of the shadow stag will know the secrets of the forest. Henceforth, he will know the location of every burrow, nest, and den, every food cache, everything. No prey shall evade him. No predator shall overtake him. However, his newfound power comes at a terrible price. But, let us get back to the business at hand.
“John, as you know, Roderick’s Grounds is a well-known place. That is, every Kasskatchen knows of its existence same as they know the Roderick legends but only a few have actually been there. This is because to get there a man must make a voyage through what is known as ‘The Gauntlet of the North.’ But again, you already know all of this. Except that now I am not speaking to your quest alone but to this family’s quest to rebuild. For it certainly seems to me that our quests have come together, not as a coincidence, but by the work of the Great Spirit come down into these woods with all the heavens in tow. And, if as I believe, this is indeed the case, then his will is our destiny, and we need only keep putting one foot before the other in…”
Pausing, Emma cocked her head, “John, are you alright?”
His eyes addressing potent thoughts, John nevertheless nodded, “Yes, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure, darling?” asked his wife. And leaning in to whisper, “Do you want to tell grandma what you saw in the woods?”
John shook his head. Then turning to Emma, “I’m good.”
“If there is something you need to tell us John, then by all means tell us. Otherwise let us proceed, for if we are to succeed at what I propose, time is of the essence.”
John, gazing at Emma, “There is nothing I need to tell, save that, so far, I’m all in.”
“Good,” said the Matriarch, “very good indeed!” And continuing with gravity, “As we all know, any man that makes it to Roderick’s Grounds and back returns rich in the eyes of his fellow warriors and hunters. He earns the subtitle of ‘Riddare ăv Vatten.’ It is a rite of passage achieved by only a handful. There are greater subtitles a man can earn. There are greater tests and rites of passage. But becoming a ‘Knight of the Water’ is highly valued and, it bodes well for a young warrior’s future, that he add it to his resume. In this very house, going back through our long history, I can name many warriors that made the journey including my own husband, Engel Emerson.”
“Father ran the gauntlet to win mother’s heart,” Jessie interceded with a touch of pride.
“And,” Emma began with a wry smile, “to buy his way into the House of Emerson.”
To clear up John’s confusion, Emma took a moment to explain, “John, you know my husband made the journey. I told you that much. I did not tell you that his last name was Askelson. He changed it to Emerson, not because he had to but because he was an unknown and, back in those days, the Emerson name brought him instant recognition and respect throughout the realm.” Emma shook her head even as she smiled in fond recollection, “Engel could be calculating. He was handsome, and good at getting his way with words and a smile, but not one to back down from a fight. A natural diplomat with the muscle to back it up."
Her expression shifting from fond recollection to grim reality, Emma continued, “Judging from the accounts of Engel and others, we can only imagine the Gauntlet of the North. I have no intention of entering it. Its existence, however, is pivotal to my plan. Surviving it requires many skills including the expert handling of a canoe. Also, to get one through, a certain kind of genius that applies itself to the wild. And perhaps most important of all, natural toughness, not in size or strength but…grit.
“It is said that, on entering the gauntlet, a man might find himself paddling a lake calm as glass, its water reflecting such beauty as to be heaven come to earth. Then without warning he is plunged into deadly rapids and fights for his life. And if that were not bad enough, the portages are grueling. The forest through which they pass are haunted by packs of wolves that know no fear of men. The bears are highly territorial, highly aggressive, and enormous in size. And perhaps worst of all are the black clouds of mosquitoes, inescapable except when far out from shore.
“Many men turn back. A few simply vanish. But a handful make it each summer and gather at what is said to be the location of Roderick’s famous camp. These men of Roderick, they are the best of the best, possessing the brawn, the brains, and the heart to get themselves there and back before winter comes and transforms the lakes and rivers into a frozen waste. They range in age from around 20 to 50. The young bucks, driven as they are, willing to risk all that they may build a resume and make something of themselves. And the mature bucks, already with big racks and little to prove, nevertheless taking on all comers. If we could be so fortunate as to choose from this pool of potential husbands, I believe we can rebuild the House of Emerson.”
The family members exchanged looks of hope, uncertainty, excitement, and wonder. No doubt in their minds that Emma was going for broke. For to suggest the House of Emerson could once again realize its illustrious past was a great claim indeed!
“It is not a given that such men will possess the substance of good husbandry,” the Matriarch warningly continued. “No doubt a few would fail miserably. A few will already be married. But the majority, I strongly suspect on the basis of my sixty-four years, will be the best in the realm.
"Now, to the crux of my plan: we know that these men use a stopover camp before entering the gauntlet, and when they return they also stop there to rest and regroup there before continuing home. We also know that, for some of our people, the stopover camp has become a summer destination for hunting, fishing, and, most recently, a rendezvous for the making and trading of goods. And in its new capacity, the rendezvous has become rather popular since its inception seven years ago. But regardless, be it as a stopover or rendezvous, it is known by one name, the Lake of the Swans. And it is there, before the campers come for the summer, that the men of which I speak will stop for only a short time early in the season, perhaps three or four days, in which they will make final preparations before entering the gauntlet.”
Emma rose from the table and went to the hearth where she refilled her mug before turning to John, “The ancient land trail beyond our summer hunting grounds to the Lake of the Swans is not used anymore, not beyond the old crossing of the River Montreal where my mother and father drowned. We did send Cory across the river last summer, however, to check the trail. He reported it used only by animals and, although in need of work, was yet passable. At that time, we were looking for a new resource for trade among other things. We are old fashioned and, with so many of our people adopting the ways of those that live in the land beyond the Five Seas, we were considering the summer rendezvous at the Lake of the Swans as an alternative.”
Emma remained standing for her summation. “I propose we get to Lake of the Swans early, that we may have our ‘fishing’ nets ready when the finest bachelors in the world come though on their way to Roderick’s Grounds. Young and old, we can invite them to sup with us in our camp. Indeed, if we can precede their arrival by some weeks, then we can build an impressive camp with which to welcome and assist them in their quest. And if presented with the opportunity, we will mend their clothes. We will show them our many skills. We will put our best foot forward, that they may evaluate us, and we will evaluate them. We will never implore, but will be candid in telling why we came. We will speak from the heart about our beliefs. And when, as I believe the Spirit that speaks to us all will see to it, that the right men come forward with proposals of marriage…we will await their return from Roderick’s Grounds,” and in jest, she added, “when they are rich, respected, and worthy of membership in our family.”
Around the table, the younger members broke into smiles and laughs but not Jessie, for she knew what was coming.
“There is a catch,” Emma added, losing her smile entirely, “To get there in time, we would have to leave here…now.”
How quickly their smiles ran away from their faces, replaced by grave looks going round the table. For to do what Emma proposed, the family would have to make a wildness trek deep into winter’s grip. They would, in a very real manner of speaking, have to run a gauntlet of their own. Even John was stunned, for it was one thing for him to travel alone in winter and something else entirely to travel with a family that included both the old and the very young.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Emma, “but with John along, and with the great strength of his giant, we can make good time traveling north on the big river. On windy days we can use the trail in the trees along the river. We have the right gear and supplies. And when we reach our summer home, we can rest and regroup before continuing north up the River Montreal. From the old crossing it is only three or four days more to the Lake of the Swans.”
Fixing her eyes on the Seeker, the Matriarch continued, “John, my plan would greatly advance your plan. It would put your basecamp even further north, closer to your objective. Better still, it would put you in contact with a rare handful of men that know the far north like no others.”
Raising her voice, Mia’s tone expressed the depth of her concern, “It is very cold to be traveling with small children, especially when Noah and Sophie are too big for a papoose but too small to walk and keep up on their own.”
Sitting between the two, Jessie shared her cousin's concern, Mia is right, mother.”
“She is, and that is why we would have the children ride on a sled, pulled by John’s giant. And if necessary to keep them warm, we’ll bundle a dog or two in with them. It wouldn’t be the first time that was done.”
“I have an idea,” John put in, the wheels in his head turning. “Ellie’s packsaddle, as you know, carries three packs on either side. Each pack is an oak chest made so that it can be taken off and carried on the back of a man. We can modify two of those chests into child seats for Noah and Sophie. They can sit side-by-side while riding on Ellie’s back. And we can blanket them up in a way that traps Ellie’s body-heat to keep them warm.”
“Ellie’s gait is gentle,” Laureal added, “She will not jostle the children.”
John used his hands to help in his description, “You have seen how the packs fit in the packsaddle’s frame, side by side, top to bottom, at an incline, with hinged lids like chests. We can make them into seats, slightly reclined and open at the top, with leg openings cut into the bottom of the lids, and opening on the sides for their arms if they so choose. That way we can set the children in and latch the modified doors like gates. The kids won’t be able to fall out, but they won’t be squished in either. Their new box seats, besides serving to protect their bodies from passing branches, can be overlaid with Ellie’s buffalo cloak, kind of like a tent, to hold in her body heat. We can modify her cloak for that purpose. And while we're at it, we can add hooded openings, like on a coat, so the children can see out. And of course, we would keep a close watch on them as we travel.”
“Mia,” said Emma, “we are going to vote on this. Not now, but tomorrow after we’ve had a chance to sleep on it. And you have the right to veto, in which case we will find another way to get the men we need.”
Mia looked first to Emma, then to John, then back to Emma, “I vote to go.”
“What about you, Mother?” asked Jessie.
“I can make the journey,” somewhat offended by her daughter's concern. And setting her jaw as she sat to the table, “I have plenty fight left in me.”
“I vote to go!” Cody put in.
John turned to Laureal, his enthusiasm heightened, “Instead of giving our sleigh a wide body as planned, we can make narrow crossmembers to join the two sides. Then we’d have a horse drawn dogsled, narrow enough for river paths.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” Emma interjected.
Laureal turned to her grandmother, “Just this morning John said the snow depth is perfect,” referring to the approximate six inches of snowfall presently on the ground.
“We can put our gear and provisions on the sled,” John seamlessly added, “Ellie can pull it, the children can ride in her pack saddle. One of us can ride on the back of the sled, same as on a dogsled. And with less for us to carry on our persons, we should be able to cover a fair piece of ground each day.”
Jessie gazed at her daughter and son-in-law. “What a wonderful thing your project has turned out to be! I’m so proud of you…both of you.”
“Thanks, Mom. But like I said, we just thought it would be great fun.” And turning to John, taking his hand under the table, “Now we see how the Great Spirit has been guiding our steps. All along, he’s had our best interest at heart.”
