him.
The Half King flicked a quick glance at Croghan, the Irishman. He knew it as well. It was plain on his face. Would he tell Washington? Maybe. Maybe not. But it did not matter whether or not the Virginia sachem knew. It was over. The great plan for removing Onontio from the Ohio Country had failed. Tanaghrisson felt a little shiver deep in his belly, a knowing that was coming to lodge in his gut. It would probably kill him, this knowing. But first he and his would suffer more. May the Great Spirit curse all
Cmokmanuk,
and forgive us for ever thinking we could live with them in this place.
“Why do you return alone?” Tanaghrisson’s wife asked. “Where are the soldiers and the others who left with you?”
“hey are not here.”
“I can see that. Do you think something has happened to my eyes?”
“You have a squirrel’s tongue. Click-clack, click-clack and you say nothing. It makes me tired to listen to you. Get everything ready, we are leaving.”
“All of us?” Her husband had brought eighty people here, twelve of them braves, the rest women and children and old people.
“All,” he said.
“A far distance?”
Tanaghrisson shrugged and she knew that meant probably yes.
So. Another journey with cranky children, exhausted elders, no proper cooking fires, and all the other discomforts that went with such treks. At least four of the women with full bellies would have to deliver on the trail, without a proper birthing lodge. Men were stupid, but it was never any different. “Perhaps you will take just the braves,” she urged, “leave the rest of us behind to follow some other time.”
“I said
all.
Can you not understand plain speech?”
Ayi!
There was no hope for it now. “Where are we going?”
He wasn’t sure. Aughwick, Croghan’s trading post, perhaps. Three days’ journey east. Maybe four with the squaws and the children. “When we get there, you will know where we are. Pack.”
Tanaghrisson turned away and looked at the death trap Washington called Fort Necessity. This little thing on the meadow should have told him he’d made a bad bargain as soon as it was built. The notion of a pact with the English to defeat Onontio and make him, Tanaghrisson, the lord of all the war chiefs in the Ohio Country required batde-seasoned allies. Instead he’d associated himself with a few ill-trained soldiers in a stockade with split-log walls just a little taller than the Virginia sachem himself. The space within it was hardly big enough to shelter some weapons and a few tents. A man could walk the whole circle in forty strides.
The runner he’d sent out had brought word a short time before. Five hundred of Onontio’s heavily armed soldiers had left Fort Duquesne. And as he’d feared, a hundred Lenape and Mingo marched with them. If Onontio met the Americans in the forest, Washington and his men would all die swiftly. If the French came here they would place themselves in the hills that surrounded this meadow and easily kill the forts defenders one by one. Tanaghrisson sighed. The sense of disaster was a physical thing. It shivered in his belly now as it had a few days ago back at Gist’s trading post. “Pack,” he said again. “I will tell the others.”
His wife looked at him shrewdly. “You have lost everything you wagered. How did this happen?”
“This Washington is a good-natured boy who will someday be a good man,but he has no experience.” Tanaghrisson glanced again at the ill-sited fort with its paltry defenses. “Worse, he will not listen to those who have.”
Two days later Washington got word that Tanaghrisson and his followers—including his dozen braves—had left Great Meadows. He sent a messenger to try and get the Half King to return, but didn’t have much hope of success. There were only a couple of Indians with them now, malcontents who preferred to stay rather than leave with their companions, and they were not to be trusted. For all intents and purposes, he and
The Half King flicked a quick glance at Croghan, the Irishman. He knew it as well. It was plain on his face. Would he tell Washington? Maybe. Maybe not. But it did not matter whether or not the Virginia sachem knew. It was over. The great plan for removing Onontio from the Ohio Country had failed. Tanaghrisson felt a little shiver deep in his belly, a knowing that was coming to lodge in his gut. It would probably kill him, this knowing. But first he and his would suffer more. May the Great Spirit curse all
Cmokmanuk,
and forgive us for ever thinking we could live with them in this place.
“Why do you return alone?” Tanaghrisson’s wife asked. “Where are the soldiers and the others who left with you?”
“hey are not here.”
“I can see that. Do you think something has happened to my eyes?”
“You have a squirrel’s tongue. Click-clack, click-clack and you say nothing. It makes me tired to listen to you. Get everything ready, we are leaving.”
“All of us?” Her husband had brought eighty people here, twelve of them braves, the rest women and children and old people.
“All,” he said.
“A far distance?”
Tanaghrisson shrugged and she knew that meant probably yes.
So. Another journey with cranky children, exhausted elders, no proper cooking fires, and all the other discomforts that went with such treks. At least four of the women with full bellies would have to deliver on the trail, without a proper birthing lodge. Men were stupid, but it was never any different. “Perhaps you will take just the braves,” she urged, “leave the rest of us behind to follow some other time.”
“I said
all.
Can you not understand plain speech?”
Ayi!
There was no hope for it now. “Where are we going?”
He wasn’t sure. Aughwick, Croghan’s trading post, perhaps. Three days’ journey east. Maybe four with the squaws and the children. “When we get there, you will know where we are. Pack.”
Tanaghrisson turned away and looked at the death trap Washington called Fort Necessity. This little thing on the meadow should have told him he’d made a bad bargain as soon as it was built. The notion of a pact with the English to defeat Onontio and make him, Tanaghrisson, the lord of all the war chiefs in the Ohio Country required batde-seasoned allies. Instead he’d associated himself with a few ill-trained soldiers in a stockade with split-log walls just a little taller than the Virginia sachem himself. The space within it was hardly big enough to shelter some weapons and a few tents. A man could walk the whole circle in forty strides.
The runner he’d sent out had brought word a short time before. Five hundred of Onontio’s heavily armed soldiers had left Fort Duquesne. And as he’d feared, a hundred Lenape and Mingo marched with them. If Onontio met the Americans in the forest, Washington and his men would all die swiftly. If the French came here they would place themselves in the hills that surrounded this meadow and easily kill the forts defenders one by one. Tanaghrisson sighed. The sense of disaster was a physical thing. It shivered in his belly now as it had a few days ago back at Gist’s trading post. “Pack,” he said again. “I will tell the others.”
His wife looked at him shrewdly. “You have lost everything you wagered. How did this happen?”
“This Washington is a good-natured boy who will someday be a good man,but he has no experience.” Tanaghrisson glanced again at the ill-sited fort with its paltry defenses. “Worse, he will not listen to those who have.”
Two days later Washington got word that Tanaghrisson and his followers—including his dozen braves—had left Great Meadows. He sent a messenger to try and get the Half King to return, but didn’t have much hope of success. There were only a couple of Indians with them now, malcontents who preferred to stay rather than leave with their companions, and they were not to be trusted. For all intents and purposes, he and
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