Késsinnimek - Roots - RacinesMon Petit Coin by Norm Léveillée
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Fleur-de-la-Prairie - Prairie Flower
The Algonquin Mother of Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha
Chapter Four - Flickering Leaf - La Feuille-Qui-Tremble
One day, Fleur-de-la-Prairie (Prairie Flower or Wahwahkesona) learned while chatting with the young women of the tribe, that an old Iroquoise, named because of her wobbling gait the Feuille-Qui-Tremble (Flickering Leaf), was gravely ill. Theis woman was very old and infirmed. Intelligent and crafty, she took advantage of the prestige afforded her by her profound knowledge of the "curing objects", her lively and observing spirit allowing her to be considered a sorceress. She was feared. Each one consulted her like a sort of oracle. All of this attracted the favor of the chiefs and, up to this time, this protected her against the ill treatments often inflicted upon old women, taking up room, considered as a useless and costly responsibility in Indian tribes.Aile-de-Corbeau often lived with the so-called sorceress when he decided to settle his capricious flight!
Exceedinly superstituous, he never ceased to exchange tiny objects offered to the covetousness of the Indian woman, against the explanation more or less fanciful of his dreams, of such and such omens. He searched to know the future regarding forthcoming beasts, the noise of leaves during his trips in the woods... He hoped, feared, was saddened or knew the joy of living after the sayings of his bizarre and able confidant.
Things were at this point when Fleur-de-la-Prairie learned the serious state of Feuille-qui-Tremble.
---Did my sisters visit her? she asked her companions, while showiing that she was a bit distracted.---Oh! no, I fear this Elder woman too much, she appears to be too wicked, answered one of them, with a frightened demeanor.
---As for me, said another, I fear especially Aile-de-Corbeau. When he enters the longhouse, rudely waving us out of his way, with an eye as brillant as that of the wolf... I do not like this chief!
---Be quite, countered a third while laughing, Aile-de-Corbeau does not like neither you nor anyone else. He loves only himself. But I believe that he knows how to hate a lot. What does my sister Fleur-de-la-Prairie think of this?
---Oh! nothing at all, she answered absentmindedly, I know so little.
And, placing in a basket hung around her neck, necklaces on which she had carefully thereaded one by one the colored wooden beads, she returned to her longhouse.
When the group of women has left --- it was the usual hour for the evening meal --- she made sure that each one was doing her chore, and quietly, she found her way acroos the woods towards the longhouse of the sorceress.
She was wearing her basket of necklaces around her neck.
Upon arrival at the longhouse, she listend attentively for a few moments, the almost unoticeable sounds of the deserted forest. Then, without any doubt that the immense silence was interrupted by the single crackling of a branche or by the sound of the wings of a bird in quest of a resting place for the night, she entered in the abode of the old Iroquoise woman.
---Who is there? she asked in a feebly voice. Is it you, my son, Aile-de-Corbeau?---No, the Algonquin woman answered softly. It is Fleur-de-la-Prairie who is brining you food and some "medecinal plants" to relieve your illness.
Surprised, Feuille-qui-Tremble raised herself from her palette of leaves.
---My daughter is as soft as her name, she said. But no one concerns themselves in this way with Feuille-qui-Tremble, unless it is to learn what the dream spirits will bring them or ...---I am asking for nothing, my mother. I have come to take care of your illness and to beg the Great Spirit whom I know, to cure you.
---Who is this Great Spirit, I do not know him, asked the old woman fearfully. What must we give him so that he will listen to us?
Fleur-de-la-Prairie hesitated. Then lowering her beautiful face near the wringkled face of the Iroquois woman, she fervently whispered:
---One must simply love him!Astounded, Feuille-qui-Tremble did not know what say then.
---May my daughter speak and tell her secret, ventured she finally, with an intense curiosity.Fleur-de-la-Prairie meditated for a moment, then with a serious tone:
---Let me my mother remember, she said. When Cerf brought me in the tribe... I did not know the goodness of the chief... I was sacred, without saying a word. The women looked upon me with menacing laughter. They were jealous perhaps because Cerf is handsome and a great warrior and I was his poor captive... I was alone, I cried for my family... Some came softly to wipe my tears and to place next to me necklaces, fruit... It was Feuille-qui-Tremble... The Algonquiin woman, my mother, never forgets.---What can I do for Fleur-de-la-Prairie, before I close my eyes for the great sleep? asked the Iroquois woman strangely moved.
---That you be healed! I will speak to you also of the Great Spirit and the Black Robes who know him. When the days arrives, Fleur-de-la-Prairie will return again.
The young Indian woman closed the flap of the longhouse, when she head in the distance a soft sound of footsteps which were drawing near toward where she was. Thinking that it was Aile-de-Corbeau who was arriving, she hid near the longhouse.
Chapter V - The Terrible Comat
In this way, while night began slowly to cover the American forest, something great was happening in the miserable longhouse of the native. An old Indian woman was trying to understand the mysterious and consoling things which was the result of the interview with a young woman, almost a child.Something divine entered in a heart until now closed to all feelings except fear, cunning, superstituion. But, I am mistaken! Feuille-qui-Tremble had experienced once the gentleness of having pity. The Great Spirit forgot nothing...
Now alone in the cold night, Fleur-de-la-Prairie had the premonition that the hour was serious, maybe decisive... It was really dark in the immense, deserted forest... The valiant Algonquin woman felt fear and anguish overtake her soul. With infinite precautions, she slid into a sort of ditch next to the sorceress. With heart beating, she waited and she prayed...
It was Aile-de-Courbeau returning from a shot hunting expedition. Without a doubt, this hunt was not a happy one because a terrible frown added to his already rough features an even more evil expression.
With a bad-tempered gesture, he threw weapons and game before the entrance of the longhouse, looking around with an attentive look, then abruptly entered the abode of Feuille-qui-Tremble.
She opened her eyes with great effort. She could feel death approaching and she wanted to go in the joy of the beautiful dream that has just began...
---What does Aile-de-Courbeau want? Finally asking ina feeble voice.---To want to know why everything goes wrong in my life, the young man answered in a rough manner. What evil spirit allows the weapon in my hand to tremble when the game passes by. Do I have the weakness of a woman, me, Aile-de-Tremble in front of whom the most able and the strongest warrior trembles? What evil is prusuing me? Did I not almost fall this afternoon under the blows of enemy who was lead astray by accident near the trail where I was passing without mistrust? Come one! Speak! Free me of the Spirit of misfortune which has been following me or I will kill you!... You promised me all sorts of beautiful things ifI gave you my last hunt, miserable one!... What did you gibve me in return?
---Do not speak in this way, my son, whispered the old woman. My son's heart is being mislead by anger, which will bring him misfortune.
---Be quite! Aile-de-Courbeau grumbled silently.
Then suddenly, changing his mind:
---Listen Feuille-qui-Tremble, he said, with an effort at being calm and gentle, look into your dying embers; I will pick you up in my arms; raise your eyes toward the clouds... Tell me one thing, one single thing and I will look after you, I will give you everything that you wish... Look and tell me if you see that I will kill the one person whom I hate among all, whose proud head I will crush, whose longhouse I will burn down, whose dear Algonquin woman so proud I will take...---Stop, my son, interrupted the panting sorceress. Do not speak in this manner... I am looking... wait! ah! I see our blood around me, letting her eyes roam around, extending her hands toward the fire of the longhouse. I see your blood and I hear cries...
Exhausted, she fell again on her palette of dried leaves.
---Miserable one, miserable one! yelled the Indian, pouncing on the dying woman, his fist raised.But he stopped, nailed on the spot by surprise.
A woman had leaped with a swiftness of a lighting bolt into the longhouse. She had, with such a quick motion, had grapped the steal wrist of the warrior who took several seconds to relinguish his astonishment. He freed himself brutally and recognizing the Algonquin woman he lead out hateful laugh:
---Ah! Ah! I finally found you near me! well, sooner or later!... Ah! you see blood around me, sorceress? You are right! You saw your own and that of the Algonquin woman... Look again! You will see that of Cerf because I will kill him this night... I no longer wish to see your misfortunate faces!And throwing himself on the young woman, he was about to strangle her when she let out the long and shrill cry of the Indians of her tribe when they were in danger...
Cerf had also on his part was just returning from a long trip across the forest. He felt spent but happy. Without a doubt, Fleur-de-la-Prairie, smiling and hurruing, was going to come to him. And he would offer happily the results of his hunt. He was surprised already at the silence and the obscurity of his longhouse when he heard, crossing through the clear air of the night, the distrace cry of Fleur-de-la-Prairie.
With an outburst of speed, Cerf leaped into the forest. On his path, he appeared to hardly brush the earth.
A few instants later, a woman lay motionless next to another dying woman, whose faint appeals could not attain any possible help and two men were clutching each other in a crazy rage, sensing that the decisive hour had arrived and one or the other of these two profound hatreds would ever triumph...
The two young chiefs were of equal strength. Hoever, what demon appeared all of a sudden to give the unexpected chance to Aile-de-Courbeau? with a step backwards, Cerf stumpled on some object dragging on the ground. It was enough with an unexpected effort, Aile-de-Courbeau was able to free himself a bit and to bring down finally his agressor. Maybe he would be able to, while holding down Cerf on the ground, grab a knife placed nearby and belonging to Feuille-qui-Tremble, when she, putting together what she could of he strength and energy, dragged herself near the fighters who now were rolling on the ground, and in a supreme surge of courage, throwing herself suddenly on Aile-du-Corbeau, plunged her sharp fingernails into the already bloody eyes of the chief.
A clamor of rage and pain, a cry of triumph, a last breath... and the drama was ended.
Feuille-Qui-Tremble just took her last breath but she had saved two lives. Cerf, with a slow mouvement, scalped now the murdered head of his rival. Then, with thinking about his wounds, of the blood covering him, he left for his longhouse, carrying in his arms Fleur-de-la-Prairie still in a faint.
Many seasons have taken their turn covering the American land with either snow of new blossoms and greenery.
The tribe, whose uncontested chief is now Cerf, have, after capricious comings and goings, finally settled the group of longhouses in a new location more to his liking. Since the tragic events just described nothing has changed the happiness of Cerf and of the Algonquin woman. However, something was added to their happy life. We find Fleur-de-la-Prairie attentive to work as always, but on her shoulder rests the head of a little baby and according to Indian manner she carries on her back while attending to her usual work. Not far from her, a very little girl (of four years) tries seriously to thread the beads of a beginning necklace!
