osc.am2.redprophet-第47章

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　　For　there　was　one　last　letter；　this　one　in　code；　seemingly　innocuous　in　its　babbling　about　hunting　and　the　tedium　of　life　in　Niagara。　But　hidden　within　it　was　the　entire　text　of　both　Napoleon's　and　Frederic's　letters；　to　be　published　to　withering　effect　as　soon　as　the　news　of　French　defeat　reached　Paris。　Almost　as　quickly　as　Napoleon's　original　letter　reached　the　King；　Robespierre　would　have　this　ciphered　letter　in　his　hands。
　　But　what　of　my　oath　to　the　king？　What　sort　of　plotting　is　this？　I　was　meant　to　be　a　general；　to　lead　armies　in　battle；　or　a　Governor；　to　move　the　machinery　of　state　for　the　good　of　the　people。　Instead　I　am　reduced　to　plotting；　backstabbing；　deception；　betrayal。　I　am　a　Brutus；　willing　to　betray　all　for　the　sake　of　a　loyalty　to　the　people。　And　yet　I　pray　that　history　will　be　kind　to　me；　and　let　it　be　known　that　but　for　me　King　Charles　would　have　called　himself　Charlemagne　Second　and　used　Napoleon　to　subjugate　Europe　in　a　new　French　Empire。　Instead；　with　God's　help；　because　of　me　France　will　set　an　example　of　peacefulness　and　liberty　to　all　the　world。
　　He　lit　his　wax　candle；　let　it　drip　to　fasten　closed　the　letter　to　the　King　and　the　letter　to　his　trusted　neighbor；　and　then　pressed　his　seal　into　both。　He　called　in　his　aide；　who　put　them　in　the　mail　pouch；　then　left　to　carry　them　to　the　ship　　the　last　ship　that　was　sure　to　make　it　down　the　river　and　on　to　France　before　winter。
　　Only　the　letter　to　de　Maurepas　remained；　that　and　the　amulet。　How　I　regret　having　you；　be　said　to　the　amulet。　If　only　I；　too；　could　have　been　deceived　by　Napoleon；　and　rejoiced　as　he　made　his　inevitable　way　into　history。　Instead　I　am　thwarting　him；　for　how　can　a　general；　be　he　as　brilliant　as　Caesar；　possibly　thrive　in　the　democracy　Robespierre　and　I　will　create　in　France？
　　All　seeds　are　planted；　all　traps　are　set。
　　For　another　hour　Gilbert　de　La　Fayette　sat　trembling　in　his　chair。　Then　he　arose；　dressed　in　his　finest　clothing；　and　spent　the　evening　watching　a　wretched　farce　by　a　fifth…rate　pany；　the　finest　that　poor　Niagara　could　get　from　Mother　France。　At　the　end　he　stood　and　applauded；　which；　because　he　was　Governor；　guaranteed　the　pany　financial　success　in　Canada；　applauded　long　and　vigorously；　as　the　rest　of　the　audience　was　forced　to　keep　applauding　with　him；　clapped　his　hands　until　his　arms　were　sore；　until　the　amulet　was　slick　with　sweat　on　his　chest；　until　he　felt　the　heat　of　his　exertion　burning　through　his　shoulders　and　back；　until　he　could　clap　no　more。
　　
　　
　　Chapter　17　　Becca's　Loom
　　
　　Winter'd　been　going　on　half　Alvin's　life；　it　seemed　like。　Used　to　be　he　liked　snowy　times；　peeking　out　his　window　through　the　craze　of　frost；　looking　at　the　sun　dazzling　off　the　smooth　unbroken　sea　of　snow。　But　then；　in　those　days　he　could　always　get　inside　where　it　was　warm；　eat　Ma's　cooking；　sleep　in　a　soft　bed。　Not　that　he　was　suffering　so　much　now；　what　with　learning　Red　ways　for　doing　things；　Alvin　wasn't　bad　off。
　　It　had　just　been　going　on　for　too　many　months。　Almost　a　year　since　that　spring　morning　when　Alvin　set　out　with　Measure　for　the　trip　to　Hatrack　River。　That　had　seemed　such　a　long　journey　then；　now；　to　Alvin；　it　was　no　more　than　a　day's　jaunt　by　parison　with　the　traveling　he　had　done。　They　been　south　so　far　the　Reds　spoke　Spanish　more　than　English　when　they　talked　White　man　talk。　They　been　west　to　the　foggy　bottom　lands　near　the　Mizzipy。　They　talked　to　Cree…Ek；　Chok…Taw；　the　〃uncivilized〃　Cherriky　folk　of　the　bayou　country。　And　north　to　the　highest　reaches　of　the　Mizzipy　where　the　lakes　were　so　many　and　all　hooked　on　that　you　could　go　everywhere　by　canoe。
　　It　went　the　same　with　every　village　they　visited。　〃We　know　about　you；　Ta…Kumsaw；　you　e　to　talk　war。　We　don't　want　war。　But　if　the　White　man　es　here；　we　fight。〃
　　And　then　Ta…Kumsaw　explaining　that　by　the　time　the　White　man　es　to　their　village；　it's　too　late；　they'll　be　alone；　and　the　Whites　will　be　like　a　hailstorm；　pounding　them　into　the　dirt。　〃We　must　make　ourselves　into　one　army。　We　still　can　be　stronger　than　they　are　if　we　do。〃
　　It　was　never　enough。　A　few　young　men　would　nod；　would　wish　to　say　yes；　but　the　old　men；　they　didn't　want　war；　they　didn't　want　glory；　they　wanted　peace　and　quiet；　and　the　White　man　was　still　far　away；　still　a　rumor。
　　Then　Ta…Kumsaw　would　turn　to　Alvin；　and　say；　〃Tell　them　what　happened　at　Tippy…Canoe。〃
　　By　the　third　telling；　Alvin　knew　what　would　happen　when　he　told　the　tale　the　tenth　time；　the　hundredth　time；　every　time。　Knew　it　as　soon　as　the　Reds　seated　around　the　fire　turned　to　look　at　him；　with　distaste　because　he　was　White；　with　interest　because　he　was　the　White　boy　who　traveled　with　Ta…Kumsaw。　No　matter　how　simple　he　made　the　tale；　no　matter　how　he　included　the　fact　that　the　Whites　of　Wobbish　Territory　thought　that　Ta…Kumsaw　had　kidnapped　and　tortured　him　and　Measure；　the　Reds　still　listened　to　it　with　grief　and　grim　fury。　And　at　the　end；　the　old　men　would　be　gripping　handfuls　of　soil　in　their　hands；　tearing　at　the　ground　as　if　to　turn　loose　some　terrible　beast　inside　the　earth；　and　the　young　men　would　be　drawing　their　flint…edged　knives　gently　across　their　own　thighs；　drawing　faint　lines　of　blood；　teaching　their　knives　to　be　thirsty；　teaching　their　own　bodies　to　seek　out　pain　and　love　it。
　　〃When　the　snow　is　gone　from　the　banks　of　the　Hio；〃　said　Ta…Kumsaw。
　　〃We　will　be　there；〃　said　the　young　men；　and　the　old　men　nodded　their　consent。　The　same　in　every　village；　every　tribe。　Oh；　sometimes　a　few　spoke　of　the　Prophet　and　urged　peace；　they　were　scorned　as　〃old　women〃；　though　as　far　as　Alvin　could　see；　the　old　women　seemed　most　savage　of　all　in　their　hate。
　　Yet　Alvin　never　plained　that　Ta…Kumsaw　was　using　him　to　heat　up　anger　against　his　own　race。　After　all；　the　story　Alvin　had　to　tell　was　true；　wasn't　it？　He　couldn't　deny　to　tell　it；　not　to　anybody；　not　for　any　reason；　no　more　than　his　family　could　deny　to　speak　under　the　Prophet's　curse。　Not　that　blood　would　appear　on　Alvin's　hands　if　he　refused　to　tell。　He　just　felt　like　the　same　burden　was　on　him　like　it　was　on　all　the　Whites　who　beheld　the　massacre　at　Tippy…Canoe。　The　story　of　Tippy…Canoe　was　true；　and　if　every　Red　who　heard　that　tale　became　filled　with　hate　and　wanted　vengeance；　wanted　to　kill　every　White　man　who　didn't　sail　back　to　Europe；　why；　would　that　be　a　reason　for　Alvin　to　try　to　keep　them　from　knowing？　Or　wasn't　that　their　natural　right；　to　know　the　truth　so　as　to　be　able　to　let　the　truth　lead　them　to　do　good　or　evil；　as　they　chose？
　　Not　that　Alvin　could　talk　about　natural　rights　and　such　out　loud。　There　wasn't　much　chance　for　conversation。　Sure　enough；　he　was　always　with　Ta…Kumsaw；　never　more　than　an　arm's　length　off。　But　Ta…Kumsaw　almost　never　spoke　to　Alvin；　and　when　he　did　it　was　things　like　〃Catch　a　fish〃　or　〃e　with　me　now。〃　Ta…Kumsaw　made　it　plain　that　he　had　no　friendship　for　Alvin　now；　and　in　fact　he　didn't　much　want　a　White　along　with　him。　Ta…Kumsaw　walked　fast；　in　his　Red　man's　way；　and　never　looked　back　to　see　if　Alvin　was　with　him　or　not。　The　only　time　he　ever　seemed　to　care　that　Alvin　was　there　was　when　he　turned　to　him　and　said；　〃Tell　what　happened　at　Tippy…Canoe。〃
　　One　time；　after　they　left　a　village　so　het　up　against　Whites　they　were　looking　with　interest　at　Alvin's　own　scalp；　Alvin　got　to　feeling　defiant　and　he　said；　〃Why　don't　you　have　me　tell　them　about　how　you　and　I　and　Taleswapper　all　got　into　Eight…Face　Mound？〃　Ta…Kumsaw's　only　answer　was　to　walk　so　fast　that　Alvin　had　to　run　all　day　just　keeping　up。
　　Traveling　with　Ta…Kumsaw　was　like　traveling　alone；　when　it　came　to　pany。　Alvin　couldn't　remember　ever　being　so　lonely　in　his　life。　So　why　don't　I　leave；　he　asked　himself。　Why　do　I　keep　going　with　him？　It　ain't　like　it's　fun；　and　I'm　helping　him　start　a　war　against　my　own　folks；　and　it's　getting　colder　all　the　time；　like　as　if　the　sun　gave　up　shining　and　the　world　was　supposed　to　be　grey　bare　trees　and　blinding　snow　from　one　end　to　the　other；　and　he　don't　even　want　me　here。
　　Why　did　Alvin　go　on？　It　was　partly　Tenskwa…Tawa's　prophecy　that　Ta…Kumsaw　never　would　die　if　Alvin　stuck　close　by。　Alvin　might　not　like　Ta…Kumsaw's　pany；　but　Alvin　knew　he　was　a　great　and　good　man；　and　if　Alvin　could　somehow　help　keep　him　alive；　then　it　was　his　duty　to　give　it　a　try　as　best　he　could。
　　But　it　was　also　more　than　that；　more　than　the　duty　he　felt　to　the　Prophet；　to　care　for　his　brother；　more　than　the　need　he　felt　to　act　out　the　terrible　punishment　of　his　family　by　telling　the　tale　of　Tippy…Canoe　all　over　the　Red　man's　country。　Alvin　couldn't　exactly　find　it　in　words　to　tell　himself　inside　his　head　as　he　ran　along　through　the　woods；　lost　in　a　halfway　dream；　the　green　of　the　forest　guiding　his　footsteps　and　filling　his　head　with　the　music　of　the　earth。　No；　that　wasn't　a　word　time。　But　it　was　a　time　of　understanding　without　words；　of　having　a　sense　of　rightness　about　what　he　was　doing；　a　feeling　that　Alvin　was　like　the　oil　on　the　axle　of　a　wagon　wheel　that　was　carrying　great　events　forward。　I　might　just　get　myself　all　used　up；　I　might　get　burned　away　by　the　heat　of　the　wheel　rubbing　on　the　axle；　but　the　world　is　changing；　and　somehow　I'm　part　of　what's　helping　it　go　forward。　Ta…Kumsaw's　building　something；　bringing　together　Red　men　to　make　something　out　of　them。
　　It　was　the　first　time　Alvin　understood　that　something　could　be　built　out　of　people；　that　when　Ta…Kumsaw　talked　them　Reds　into　feeling　with　one　heart　and　acting　with　one　mind；　they　became　something　bigger　than　just　a　few　people；　and　building　something　like　that；　it　was　against　the　Unmaker；　wasn't　it？　Just　like　Alvin　always　used　to　make　little　baskets　by　weaving　grass。　The　grass　was　nothing　but　grass　by　itself；　but　all　wove　together　it　was　something　more　than　grass。
　　Ta…Kumsaw's　making　something　new　where　there　wasn't　nothing；　but　the　new　thing　won't　e　to　be　without　me。
　　That　filled　him　with　fear　of　helping　make　something　he　didn't　understand；　but　it　also　filled　him　with　eagerness　to　see　the　future。　So　he　pressed　on；　pushed　forward；　wore　himself　down；　talked　to　Reds　who　started　out　suspicious　and　ended　up　filled　with　hate；　and　stared　most　of　every　day　at　the　back　of　Ta…Kumsaw；　running　ahead　of　him　ever　deeper　into　the　forest。　The　green　of　the　wood　turned　gold　and　red；　then　black　with　the　rains　of　autumn　on；　the　bare　trees；　and　finally　grey　and　white　and　still。　And　all　his　worry；　all　his　discouragement；　all　his　confusion；　all　his　grief　for　the　terrible　things　he　saw　ing　and　the　terrible　things　he'd　seen　in　the　past　　all　turned　into　a　weary　distaste　for　winter；　an　impatience　for　the　season　to　change；　for　the　snow　to　melt　and　spring　to　e；　and　then　summer。
　　Summer；　when　he　could　look　back　and　think　of　all　this　as　the　past。　Summer；　when　he'd　know　pretty　much　how　it　all　turned　out；　for　good　or　ill；　and　not　have　this　sickening　snow…white　dread　in　the　back　of　his　mind；　masking　all　his　other　feelings　the　way　snow　masked　the　earth　beneath　it。
　　Until　one　day　Alvin　noticed　that　the　air　was　somewhat　warm；　and　the　snow　had　slacked　off　the　grass　and　dirt　and　was　purely　gone　from　the　tree　limbs；　and　there　was　a　flash　of　red　where　a　certain　bird　was　getting　itself　ready　to　find　him　a　wife　and　nestle　in　for　egg　season。　And　on　that　very　day；　Ta…Kum