The Beothuk Saga Read online

  Woasut said nothing, but her face hardened. Anin had decided to take a second wife, and that did not please her. Normally when a man took a second wife he chose one of his first wife’s sisters, so that there would be no arguing. Woasut regarded this strange woman critically. She was not bad-looking, but she was as pale as a trout’s belly. What man would want to sleep with a woman who looked like a fish? And if they had a child together, what colour would it be? Woasut gave the woman some trout and a piece of dried meat, which the woman accepted, smiling often as she ate.

  The couple then began teaching the stranger a few words of the Addaboutik and Beothuk language. By nightfall, the woman could say several necessary words, such as meat, caribou, fish, fire, medicine, water, breast, legs and arms, hands and head, eyes and mouth, nose and cheek. Then Anin lay down between the women, beneath the caribou skin blankets, and Woasut immediately placed herself on her knees so that Anin would enter her, in case he entertained thoughts of the woman with the pale skin and hair the colour of dried grass. When he was satisfied, Woasut asked him to continue rocking until she was satisfied too, conscious that the stranger was watching them curiously. Woasut kept up a steady flow of low cries of pleasure and moans of contentment, to let the woman know that she was happy and could make her man happy all by herself. That way, if Anin coupled with the stranger without satisfying her, the woman would know she was not his favourite wife.

  11

  The snow had completely melted and new growth was beginning to show green through the yellow moss. Although the nights were still cool, the sun in the season of new growth warmed the mamateek for the three sheltering in it. The Bouguishamesh woman, whose name was Gudruide, had learned the Addaboutik-Beothuk language fairly well, and could make herself understood in it. Her irrepressible laughter made her presence almost tolerable to Woasut, who nonetheless continued to treat the woman like a slave in order to maintain her own status as first wife. Anin had yet to show the slightest inclination to couple with the newcomer, but still Woasut never let the two of them out of her sight when they were together. She was afraid she would be reduced to begging for her turn with Anin if he decided to take up with this fish-skinned woman from another world. She was as strong as Woasut, and equally experienced in the ways of the world, and often took the initiative when they were performing their daily tasks.

  For example, Woasut did not have to tell her when it was time to check the fishing line. When the ice on the lake began to melt, each time she ventured out onto it she came back with wet feet, and had to dry her strange foot-coverings by the fire. These foot-coverings, she said, were made from the skin of an animal that had two horns. The skin was wrapped around the foot, and then a rigid pad was placed beneath the foot and secured to the leg by means of strings cut from the same skin. Unlike Anin and Woasut, she did not stuff her foot-coverings with moss to keep out the cold. And her clothing was made from the hair of yet another strange animal, smaller than the two-horned kind; this one’s hair was woven together by the Bouguishamesh to form a different sort of skin. Anin described as best he could the two new kinds of animals he had seen in the enclosure surrounding the Bouguishamesh’s mamateek. Woasut was astonished to learn that, with these strange beasts, it was not necessary to kill them in order to take their skins, because each season-cycle their skins grew back and could be taken again and again. According to Anin, that discovery alone was worth the three season-cycles he had spent away from his people, and the many hardships he had endured.

  Woasut considered that it was better, after all, that Anin had returned with a female rather than with another male. Two men and one woman in camp would have caused competition for the woman. Beothuk women had long ago learned to accept one another and to share their men; between men, however, there was always rivalry and conflict over women. That is why there were more Beothuk men than women. Woasut still resented the presence of this strange woman, but she knew better than to let Anin see it. She also knew that it was good to have a female to help with the birthing – as long as the two of them did not give birth at the same time.

  Anin finished readying the tapatook for the growing season. He had made new arrows, changed the sinew on his bow, and made three more spears so that the women could help with the fishing. He helped the women gather armloads of moss and dried them near the fire, to be used when the birthings started. And he collected what remained of the dried meat and placed it in bark baskets, which he buried near the mamateek under a pile of stones to keep them away from wolves and bears. A permanent fire was also kept burning near the pile, to keep other possible thieves away.

  One morning, Woasut announced that her child was coming. Anin made a smaller shelter for himself, outside the mamateek, so that Woasut and Gudruide would have more room. He asked Gudruide if she would help with the birthing. That evening, Woasut refused to eat. Her contractions had begun and she wanted to lie down to conserve her strength. She would not sleep, however, for fear of robbing her child of its vigour. This was a Beothuk tradition, and she would follow it even though all her people were dead. She wanted this child to survive and to perpetuate her race. She had learned the birthing tradition from her mother and she knew what had to be done. She made a cushion of dried moss with which to receive the newborn, so that it would not hurt itself when it fell from her; she wanted its first experience of the world to be as soft as possible. Between contractions she rested, lying in the mamateek and waiting, and then pushing to help the baby along its passage from the internal to the external world. Above all, she did not want the pale-skinned woman to touch her until it was absolutely necessary.

  Gudruide remained outside the mamateek, sitting with Anin, who was looking at her curiously. She had a certain attraction, he decided, despite the distasteful pallor of her skin. Could such a skin be as soft as Woasut’s? He moved towards her and held his fingers to her face. She smiled. He looked down at her round belly, and touched it, too, through her strange garment, which was tied with cords cut from the skin of that odd, two-horned animal. Slowly she untied the cords and lifted her dress, disclosing her naked skin, and gently took Anin’s hand and placed it on her stomach. It felt taut, as though on the point of bursting. He caressed it, feeling his desire rise for this woman for the first time since he had brought her to the mamateek. He realized he had been regarding her as a kind of wounded animal. “When she has learned more of the Addaboutik language,” he thought, “I will ask her why she left her people.” He saw the tuft of hair above her sex, darker than the hair on her head. Fascinated, he placed his hand on it. Woasut did not have such a tuft. No sooner had he touched her there than he felt her tremble, and her skin bunched like the skin of the ptarmigan when it has been plucked. She swallowed with difficulty, clutching at the remaining cords binding her garment, and suddenly the entire front of her dress was open, and she lay down on Anin’s caribou blankets. Despite the coolness of the night air, sweat trickled down from her temples. Anin found himself caressing her pale breasts, running his hands from them to the tuft of hair above her sex, then behind her to her firm buttocks. The strength of his desire for her mounted rapidly. When his own sex was hard, he signalled to the woman to turn over and raise herself on her knees, which she did without hesitation. Although his caresses to this point had been gentle, he now thrust himself almost brutally into the Bouguishamesh woman and threw himself into the rocking motion that leads quickly to a man’s satisfaction. She took the assault without a murmur of protest, even quickening its pace by raising and lowering her backside ever more rapidly until he was finished. When he tried to slide out of her she grabbed him and held him to her, letting him know that she wanted him to continue. Anin re-entered her and resumed the rocking motion, and again she increased the rhythm, emitting small sounds of pleasure that quickly built to a loud, sharp cry that sounded almost like pain. At that moment, Woasut stuck her head out of the mamateek in time to see Anin withdraw from the fish-bellied woman, and Gudruide turn from her kneeling posture to kiss Anin
’s sex. Then, seized by a violent contraction, she barely had time to return to her moss bed before the child began to come.

  Squatting on her haunches, she pushed as hard as she could with each new contraction. The baby’s head was almost out. When its body was fully engaged in the passageway, she could no longer hold in her own cries. When the woman with hair the colour of dead grass hurried into the mamateek, still naked, the baby was already born. It was lying on the moss bed, and Woasut had fallen over backwards, exhausted from her exertions. But she looked up and smiled at Gudruide, showing teeth as white as cold-season snow.

  “I was able to stay on my feet the whole time,” she said proudly. “The baby will be healthy and strong. What kind is it?”

  “A male,” Gudruide told her. “Do you feel strong enough to bite off the cord yourself?”

  Woasut nodded and sat up, and Gudruide placed the male child in the new mother’s arms. Woasut held him lovingly, then took the natal cord between her teeth and bit through it. She licked the child thoroughly from head to toe, after which Gudruide took him and wrapped him in a soft caribou blanket to keep him warm. Then she returned him to Woasut, who lay down with him and held him tightly in her arms.

  “It’s a male,” she called out happily to Anin.

  12

  On the sun after her confinement, Woasut was up fulfilling her daily tasks as usual, and ordering Gudruide about when Anin was away from the mamateek. She wondered when the woman with hair the colour of dead grass was going to deliver her own child. She sent her out to check the fishing line, convinced that the ice on the lake was about to break, and watched carefully as the woman waded out to the hole through the water that covered the thin ice. Then she saw the woman return to the mamateek with a beautiful trout, the fishing line rolled neatly around the birch stick that kept it from being pulled through the hole by the fish. As always, Gudruide removed her wet foot-coverings and draped them over a branch near the outside fire to dry.

  The sun was warm and pleasant, and Anin had gone down towards the bay to hunt game. Woasut was already carrying her child on her back, strapped to a wooden board that Anin had made for him. Anin had bent a birch bar across the top of the board to protect the baby’s head should the board slip from Woasut’s back when she was standing up. They had not yet given the child a name. They wanted to wait until the child’s character became apparent. Privately, Woasut thought they should call it “The Child Born While Anin Was Coupling with the Fish-Woman,” but she dared not express her thoughts openly.

  It was the custom of her people that, when there were more women in a village than men, a man could have more than one wife. And if a man had two wives, it was expected that both would be equally satisfied! Usually the second wife was known to the first, but if there was no other woman in the village a strange woman could become a second wife. And it was important that disputes and bad feelings be avoided in a village. Woasut was therefore confused. Was it right for her to feel such animosity towards Gudruide? Certainly it was not. Her duty was clear: she must follow tradition. What was more, Gudruide had made herself extremely useful, helping with the newborn child since the night of his birthing. Why, then, was she complaining? But she could not help wondering what would happen when both women were available for coupling, and both wanted to couple at the same time?

  Suddenly the women heard voices coming from the direction of the wind. They sat still, listening carefully. Two males, speaking a language Woasut did not know. Gudruide sprang up in terror and ran towards the path leading down to the bay, calling to Woasut to follow her quickly.

  “Hurry! Take the baby and run with me. They are Vikings! They will kill you!”

  With that, Gudruide set off as fast as a woman on the point of giving birth could run. Woasut, no less mindful of her previous experience with the Ashwans, tried to run after her, but she was still weak from childbirth and could not move as quickly as Gudruide. The Bouguishamesh did not seem to be aware of them, despite Gudruide’s loud cries. The women had no sooner disappeared down the path than the two Vikings emerged into the clearing and saw the mamateek. Each of them was carrying a cutting stick, which they thrust again and again through the bark covering of the mamateek. After wrecking the empty dwelling, they tore off down the path to the bay, in the same direction taken by the women.

  The destruction of the mamateek had taken only a few moments, but it was enough to give the women a small lead. The men were quick and strong, however, and were gaining rapidly. The women ran as fast as they could; even though heavy with child, Gudruide was running faster than Woasut, who was carrying her baby. At a sharp turn in the path, Gudruide almost collided with Anin, who was returning with a beaver slung over his back. The pale woman was trying to tell Anin about the danger behind them when Woasut caught up with them. Anin could see that the women had left their weapons at the mamateek, and so he threw the beaver into the woods and told the women to hide behind a large rock. He took a long cord that had been looped through his belt and quickly tied it to two trees, across the path just below knee height. Then he stepped off the path just as the two Bouguishamesh came hurtling along it. Both tripped over the cord. Before they could get up, Anin’s harpoon plunged into the back of one of them, and Anin grabbed the second one’s hair with one hand and thrust an arrow into his throat with the other. The first one tried to get up, the harpoon still protruding from his back, but the shaft caught in a tree and the man fell forward, uttering a strangled cry. The second man was clutching the arrow in his throat with both hands, unable to move. Blood flowed from his mouth and from the throat wound made by the arrowhead. Anin left them and joined the women.

  “We must break camp immediately and go towards the wind,” he said. “Other strangers will come to look for these two, and we will have no end of battles. A pregnant woman and another who has just given birth cannot put up much of a fight. We must go.”

  Before leaving, Anin retrieved his harpoon from the back of the first Bouguishamesh, and tore his arrow from the neck of the second, who gurgled in agony and then fell face forward to the ground. Then Anin took up the strangers’ cutting sticks and their long knives and gave them to the women for safekeeping. They took the path back to the camp, taking every precaution to make no sound. There could easily be other Vikings on the path or at the camp. When Gudruide tried to tell Anin how many Vikings there were in the land, Anin told her to be quiet: no talking until he gave the order. When they arrived at the camp they soon saw how much damage had been caused by the strangers. The bark covering the mamateek was completely cut through and would never keep out the rain. Gudruide found her foot-coverings some distance from the fire where they had been drying. The dried meat was untouched, hidden in baskets under the pile of stones. Anin asked the women to take only what was absolutely necessary – blankets, food, clothing – and to make three tightly tied bundles. They would carry their weapons in their hands, ready for use.

  “Do not weigh yourselves down,” he advised them. “We have to walk fast, and we have to walk a long time if we are to keep ahead of these strangers. We must reach the setting-sun coast, where the wind comes from, as quickly as possible.”

  Working together, the three soon had the provisions packed and tied to the portage straps. They put the bundles on their backs and Anin hoisted the tapatook upside down on his head above his pack, and the three were ready to set off on their journey by the time the sun was at its highest point in the sky. Woasut carried her bundle on her back with her child strapped to her chest. Although Gudruide, too, was heavy with child, she was still strong, and her pack was slightly larger than Woasut’s. All three walked swiftly, with Anin in the lead. They would not even stop to rest until it was dark.

  The sky became cloudier as they walked, and towards nightfall it began to rain, lightly at first, then gradually with more and more intensity. A snow-melting rain, cold and steady. Anin called a halt to the march and told the women to put down their bundles and gather material to make a temporary
shelter. They had forgotten to wrap the firewood in waterproof skins, and so that first night they had to rely on their blankets for warmth. The women found a few small pieces of birchbark, which they leaned against the overturned tapatook to provide some protection from the rain. The child was safe and warm. Anin circled the area carefully to make sure the tapatook was well hidden from the path. Then they ate a bit of dried meat. Wrapped warmly in their caribou blankets and huddled on either side of the baby, the two women slept under the tapatook while Anin, also covered by a blanket, sat outside and kept watch. He listened to the rain. He dropped off to sleep from time to time, but always awoke with a start, thinking he had heard voices drifting through the rain. Then he would sleep again. His dreams were strange and vivid.

  He was up before the sun. Stiff and aching from the night, he awakened the women, who were even more tired than he was. The child was already showing signs of hunger, and Woasut put him to her breast before eating her own meagre meal. While the women were repacking the bundles, Anin went off to a large rock that he could see towards the region of cold. He had an uneasy feeling that the voices he had heard during the night had come from there. When he was close, he approached the rock carefully from the wind side and stopped. He could hear the sounds of heavy breathing. A hunter now fully alert, he stole a quick glance around the rock and saw three figures stretched out on the ground beneath an overhanging portion. Two women and a man. He noted with astonishment that they seemed to be unarmed. He would take a chance, he decided, and wake them up and bring them to Gudruide, who might understand their language and tell him who they were. He leapt towards the man, jabbed him with his fishing spear, and retreated. The man jumped to his feet and pressed himself against the rock, while the women woke up screaming and crying out.