LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 42
Two days later and still the rains continued. Sometimes light, sometimes heavy, the deluge greened the earth even as it brought misery to the ill-prepared. Faced with muddy floors, wet bedding, and swarming mosquitoes, several families pulled up stakes and left. Those that remained built a network of small ditches to connect preexisting ditches around their camps. By such means, they drained standing water into the lake, keeping the bazaar and its artisan camps from becoming a swamp. To stay above the mud, they lashed poles together and laid them on logs as boardwalks and floors. To ward off the winged bloodsuckers, many a man, woman, and child used red ochre clay. Smeared from head to toe in red and black, they were a sight to see as they went about their business. The business of survival kept them on their toes, which was far better than being on their heels. And nowhere was this more evident than at the Emerson camp, where Emma had called the family to order to discuss preparations for the coming autumn and the return home.
Plans, however, as we have seen, can change significantly in the course of unforeseeable events. And, as we also know, well-laid plans can be instrumental to success even when the need for significant changes to those plans comes with little warning.
Emma looked from one family member to the next, all sitting Indian style together in a circle on the floor of their longhut—
“The annual celebration of the founding of this rendezvous takes place in fourteen days,” she began, “but that is not why I’ve called us together. With regard to the celebration, we have already coordinated with the other families. We know how many new tables are to be made, how much firewood needs to be cut, and how much sweet grass needs to be harvested. Regarding food and our family’s contribution, Jessie and I know what to do.
“What I want to talk about today is this. It is nearly mid-summer, and that means we need to shift our focus to the coming autumn and winter. And because resources are getting thin on the ground around here, I propose that after the celebration, we move to the west side of the lake and set up a work camp at the entrance of the trail we cut last winter,” referring to where the trail met the lake, and the prosperous band of land that lay there.
Emma turned to Mia, “Of course, we will wait until Anders returns, which should be any day now.” Then, turning to the Seeker, “John, how do you feel about moving?”
Taken off guard, John didn’t need to think hard to voice his concern, “I need to stay here until the lake freezes over…I need to gather as much information as possible before my departure,” and looking around the circle, “it could be that some critical knowledge is yet to come.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” Emma began, “and if not for our most basic needs, we would stay. And with regard to our basic needs, I would not want anyone to believe our departure was for any other reason, but having said that, you should know, John, that the people who founded this rendezvous are not happy with you and me.”
“Why?” John asked, taken aback. “We get along with everyone. At least, as far as I can tell.”
“It’s not that they don’t like us. It’s…well, the people who started this rendezvous did so to get away from the annual rendezvous in Grandal. Or, more accurately, to get away from Grandal. And you and I, well…we’re attracting the very thing they’re trying to get away from. And it’s not just you and I that they’re unhappy with. Word is that this event has grown so fast in the past few years, its founders now worry about it losing its original purpose. They are also worried about the wolf we are keeping. But that’s a secondary matter. Anyway, the big wingding is in fourteen days, and the campground elders will hold their annual meeting at that time. And if it is any consolation, you and I, as I said, are not the only ones in ‘hot water.’”
“Hot water?” shaking his head, “What exactly have we done?”
“Nothing worse than any of the other newcomers, but I will know more after the elders get together. Then, we can decide how to proceed as a family. And we should all understand that when we leave this place, it is important that we do so on good terms. In the meantime, John, will you assist us in our plans to move to the west side of the lake?”
Glancing from Emma to his pregnant wife, John dropped his eyes to the floor, “Yes…of course,” and he withdrew into his thoughts.
“John,” said the Matriarch softly, “we couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
“Agreed,” Jessie put in, her tone wholehearted.
“Agreed,” Mia added. “You…and your horse.”
Laureal placed her hand in John’s and, coming eye to eye with him, she forced a little smile, her countenance telling of her own insecurity.
“Hey,” said Jessie, her tone entirely positive, “Look at all we’ve accomplished!”
“Indeed, and here we sit with ample time to prepare for the coming winter,” Emma added. “And we have money. We can replace our stone hatchets with steel hatchets, and purchase whatever else we need. And when we set up our new camp, we’ll have the resources of the west shoreline. We’ll make jerky and pemmican. That way, John, when you depart on your journey, you will be well supplied with rations. And if you can help us, we will make sure you have ample opportunity to return here for the gathering of information.
“To gain the west shore,” Emma continued, “we would need to take Ellie south along the shore if that is okay with you, John. It’s a good path. And at the same time, we can take two canoes by water along the same shoreline. In this way, we can move our camp and stay together. And since we’ll be traveling along the south shore, we will have the forest as a windbreak. Our canoes should have the advantage of calm water throughout the day.”
“Are we going to wrap up our backyard operation?” John asked. “You know, use up our current raw materials before changing gears?”
“No,” shaking her head. “I’ve put the word out. Anyone may come and take whatever ochre and root wood they need.” And smiling at John, “That way, you will not have to drag those rootballs back into the woods.”
Such news added to John's discontent, having worked so hard to harvest the materials, only to know they would not come to fruition.
“It will come back to us,” Emma assured. “This rain will end soon, and many campers are set to go and harvest the grains that grow along the lakeshore, streams, and glades,” referring to what was once called Canadian Woodland Brome. “After they trim the tops, they will bundle the stalks and bring them here to dry for use as bedding and whatnot. I have requested that they leave some fresh bundles with us in trade for what they take. That way, since we cannot allow Ellie to roam free at this time, we’ll have grass to feed her while we are yet here.”
Emma next turned to her granddaughter, “Laureal, I think you and John may have been right with regard to the pups. It may be in our best interest to keep them all. We don’t know exactly how many there are yet, but it’s a big litter. I’m guessing a dozen. And in the absence of Ellie, we will need them to get our season’s haul home. We may employ them to carry packs, but it would be better if they pulled a pair of sleds with Yike and Nemo as team leads. The pups will be fully grown if we are here harvesting until winter. We would not be able to tax them too much at such a young age, but if they are big and strong and we do not overload them, they should be fine.”
“Weya’s paint is fading,” said Mia.
“There’s no use in repainting her,” Cody put in. “Everyone and his brother knows she’s not a dog.”
“Well,” Emma began, “as I have said, I don’t like this one little bit, but at least for now, she’s naturally tied up with her pups. As for us, it is important that we do our part to make the annual celebration a success. Then we can switch to the work of moving, some of which can begin now so that, when we move, we will be ready to hit the ground running. And if it be the case that we decide not to keep the pups, we can bring them back here to sell or trade before the rendezvous ends. We will want to bring our canoes here for sale or trade at that time anyway.”
Emma next turned to her grandson, “Cody, as of today, your new job is to harvest lake trout. And Noah, when Cody returns from his fishing trips, you will assist him. You two will smoke the meat out back, and we older folks will oversee your work. We can then pack the dried meat and store it for later.
“And John, if it is okay with you, I’ve been thinking that during those times when you are not using Ellie, Cody could take her with him to fish from the lakeshore in areas where the wild grain has been harvested. That way, while Cody fishes, Ellie can eat what the people have not taken. And Cody, on all other days, you will use the canoe.”
“John, is this okay with you?”
“Yes.”
“Very good. And John, if I may, I would like to give you a shopping list. Not now, but after you’ve done your tasks for the celebration. We are going to need two or three boars. And later in the season, when the bears have fattened up, we will need one to render tallow. And we’ll need woodland caribou as well. Mia and I are going to make a second tent.”
Looking to Jessie and Laureal, Emma continued, “We’ll make caribou pemmican, and we’ll need berries for it, but we will get to that in a minute.” Then, turning to Harley—
“Mr. Sanders, a little bird has told me that you’re an exceptional stone napper.”
“A little bird?” glancing at Jessie with laughing eyes.
“Is it true?”
“I do my best.”
“Well…this is something in which we are shorthanded and, if possible, I would prefer to pay you rather than someone from the market.”
“Emma, there is no need to pay me anything. I will be happy to make whatever tools are needed.”
“Thank you. And Harley, I know you are busy making tables and benches for the feast, and I am sorry to pile on, but may I also ask you to help us with Weya?”
“Whatever you need, I’m happy to help.”
“I appreciate that greatly. My thought is, perhaps before we do anything else here, we should build a pen around her den. A fair-sized pen, easy to get in and out of, so we can clean it, but also easy to dispose of since we will not be here long. If you can cut the poles, Cody can help you put the fence up. It may seem a waste of time since we are moving and she’s not going anywhere until then anyway, but it will help me greatly in satisfying the elders when we have our meeting.”
While Emma held the family’s attention, Laureal stole looks at her mother. She could not recall seeing her mom with flowers in her hair. There were only a few little wildflowers, just there at her temple—the look in her eyes, seemingly reflecting a world far removed from the rain and muck.
The meeting continued with plans being laid out for Jessie and Laureal to harvest and process fruit, herbs, nuts, seeds, and grains. Some things could be purchased at the market, but Emma limited such purchases based not on money, but rather on the family’s need to maintain their knowledge, skills, and strength. Rowe would help Jessie and Laureal when her parents could spare her, and she could take a portion of the harvest home to her family. John and Cody were tasked with harvesting and processing meats. Noah would be their helper in camp. Harley was to make tools, including arrow shafts, complete with feathers. Emma and Mia were to fabricate a second tent and repair winter gear, including boots, clothing, and mittens. Sophie would be Emma and Mia’s helper. If no one got ahead in their tasks enough to make needed items like rope for dog harnesses, the family would purchase or trade for rope and whatever else they needed at the rendezvous before the end of the season. Last but not least, the care of dogs and puppies was, as promised, not to be overlooked but shared by all.
“Does anyone have anything to add?” asked Emma
“I visited with Mr. Fischer yesterday,” John began, “and, well...he’s in a bad way.”
“So I hear.”
“Based on what he’d heard before he came here, he thought I had specific knowledge of the Data Block’s location. He was still hoping it was true until I told him otherwise. He took it hard, but, he is yet hopeful. Then there is the state of his camp. Being a scribe, he has little skill to apply out here, and…well, he is suffering greatly for it.”
“What do you propose we do, John?”
“I don’t know, but right or wrong, I feel somewhat responsible for the poor fellow.”
“So he really is a scribe?” asked Emma, the wheels in her head turning.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well,” still yet contemplating, “I think it just may be in our interest to pay him a visit.”
And so it was that scarcely an hour later, Emma, Jessie, John, Laureal, and Cody paid a visit to Mr. Fischer. His camp, being poorly located on account of his late arrival at the campground, to mention nothing of his humble means, sat next to a belt of rushes and shrubs, which themselves formed the border of a mosquito-infested bog.
“Are you here, Mr. Fischer?” asked Emma, standing before the low opening of a shelter built from what could be found along the periphery of the campground. Mostly sticks and passed-over boughs, as well as some half-rotted sheets of birch bark that had been discarded like rusty old barn tin.
Peering out, Fischer immediately ducked back in to frantically straighten his clothes and hair.
“I hope I have not disturbed you, sir.”
“No, no. Not at all, Mrs. Emerson,” poking his head out.
“Is this a good time?”
“Yes, of course,” crawling out and standing up. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Sir, is it true that you are a scribe?”
“Yes, Ma’am. It is true, though I know it hardly appears so, what with my horrid appearance, for which I can only beg your forgiveness. I have no one to blame but myself. For such was my initial excitement prior to embarking on my journey, I failed to fully anticipate the difficulty. And now, with all this rain, I fear I am very near to my wits’ end.”
Fisher brushed a mosquito from his neck, then another from his arm as Emma sized him up. He was not in danger of dying at present but only worn to a fray, and Emma knew the odds were against his survival on the journey back to where he came.
“I am sorry for your trouble, Mr. Fischer. In fact, it was not an hour ago that my grandson-in-law raised the matter with me in the hope that we may be able to assist you in some constructive way, which, at least in part, is the reason why I have come. I would like to employ you if you are up to it, and in return for your services, help you right your present situation.”
“Mrs. Emerson, to escape my situation, I would gladly dig drainage ditches or anything else you require. And, even though I fear you may find me something of a disappointment due to my present state of health, I promise to work with all I have in me.”
“Sir, I too have been down to my last. Not so long ago, I hadn’t the strength to take another step. And yet, here I am. And when you get better, there is certainly work of the nature you describe, as we always have our hands full. However, I have not come in hope of hiring you for that but rather for the special discipline in which you are trained.”
“You mean as a scribe?” in disbelief.
“Yes, exactly.”
“May I ask then,” his countenance brightening, “what it is you would like me to record?”
“I will be happy to share what I have in mind. But sir, please, allow us to first help you out of this dreadful mess.”
Fisher glanced about his horrid camp before returning his eyes to them—a group of strangers come to help like a prayer answered. He choked back on raw emotion, “My need of assistance…is exceeded only by my gratitude.”
“And our assistance you shall have.” Then pausing momentarily, Emma took the next logical step, “Sir, may I begin by asking, are you suffering from any unwanted passengers?”
Quick to recognize Fisher’s confusion, Cody sought to clarify his grandmother’s query, “You know, like…pant-rabbits?
No less confused, Fischer glanced at the boy before returning his eyes to the Matriarch.
Seam-squirrels?” asked Cody.
In the silence that followed, the forest’s eaves, dripping in the background, made for an uneven sound that was oddly rhythmic.
Jessie cut to the chase, “Do you have lice?”
“Oh! My apologies,” cried Fischer, “I wasn’t thinking. No, almost none, fortunately. Perhaps the only silver lining to having no traveling companions. That, and I come from a profession in which one must take great care to meet strict protocols, that the Great Hall of the People not become infested with vermin.”
So subtle was the smirk that spread across Emma’s lips as to almost go unnoticed. Similarly affected, Jessie concealed her amusement. And seeing as much, Fischer smiled for the first time that day—
“I think that, outside your offer of assistance, perhaps there is nothing more comforting than discovering a shared perspective.”
“I could not help myself,” Emma confessed, breaking into a smile, “but let us stick to business.”
Meanwhile, John, Laureal, and Cody looked on like a trio of meerkats, all in a row with their heads at a tilt.
Emma glanced in the direction of the family’s camp before returning her attention to Fischer, “Sir, we have a meadow behind our lodge. May I suggest we relocate your camp there? Much of the meadow is soggy just now, but along the border of the forest, there is a long band of high ground. The mosquitoes are more tolerable there, what with the Catwort that grows along the sunward edge of the wood.”
Emma had referred to an evasive plant that spread throughout Ontario, Manitoba, and Saskatchewan in the 20th century. Catwort, better known as catnip, was one of the ingredients in Emma and Jessie’s secret recipe, along with other elements, including pine oil, cedar oil, and sweet-grass oil, which 21st century scientists had determined to be as effective as the best synthetic repellents. The real secret behind the product’s success was owed to a discovery that Emma and Jessie stumbled upon, seemingly by accident, the result of which removed the odor for which the bear grease base was known. This outstanding attribute, combined with the product’s extraordinary effectiveness in a world without air-conditioning and screened porches, made for a rare and highly sought-after commodity in faraway Grandal where, after trying to replicate it without success, a group of powerful families had offered to buy the secret recipe. The deal had been brokered via messages shuttled by the Voyageurs who ran the freight canoes. The negotiation culminated in a visit from a representative to close the deal. The final sum remained unknown to all but a few, although rumor held it to be no small fortune in gold and guaranteed credits.
Presently, Emma sent Jessie, Laureal, John, and Cody, along with Ellie, to gather birch bark, evergreen boughs, and flexible poles for the making of Mr. Fischer’s new home. And because Jessie was in charge, she planned to gather enough materials for two wickiups. For although she very much liked the splendid hideaway that Harley had built for himself up on a hillside overlooking the lake, she was nevertheless determined that he move to the family camp.
As the four departed to gather materials, Emma turned to Mr. Fisher, “It won’t take them long to put up a shelter. In the meantime, allow me to help you carry your belongings to our camp.”
“Mrs. Emerson, I cannot burden you with carrying my things.”
“Mr. Fischer, half my days are spent carrying things.”
Having won the politest of arguments, Emma waited while Fischer retrieved his belongings—
“If you would be so kind as to carry this, Ma’am,” placing a leather satchel in her hands.
“This is beautifully made,” visibly impressed. “Does this contain your supplies for recording?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” shouldering a canvas backpack. “It is the one thing I have managed to keep dry. It contains velum, pens, and a few vials of ink.”
“May I ask,” Emma began as they set out walking, “is your ink made from charcoal?”
“Yes, I have two vials of charcoal ink. I also have one vial of blueberry ink and one vial of red raspberry ink.”
“If you could make use of it, we have powdered charcoal…more of it than we know what to do with.”
“Thank you, Ma’am. I can pay for it with my service if that is acceptable.”
“There’s no need for you to pay. We plan to give away what we don’t use anyway. It’s extra fine charcoal, made at high temperatures, so it’s good for treating cases of food poisoning. We keep it in our medicine kit. We also use it for making quality paint, so I assume it would be good for making ink?”
“Ma’am, that is exactly the kind of charcoal I use.”
“Well then, I’m glad to know it can be put to use.” And walking a bit further, “Mr. Fischer, I hear you were born out here on the frontier.”
“Yes, Ma’am, although I was not cut out for it and may not have been long in this world had my parents not sent me to live with my uncle and his wife in the peopled east. There I spent my early adulthood training to be a recorder. In time, and by a stroke of good fortune, I became a scribe in the service of the High Council in Grandal.”
“Sir, that sounds more like an impressive accomplishment than a mere stroke of good fortune.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Emerson, but it’s not really all that impressive.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because, by the time I knew my way around the many corridors of the Great Hall, I knew that scribes were common as perch.”
“There’s nothing wrong with perch…in fact, we rather like them.”
Fisher could not help but smile.
Perhaps because she was an old woman, Emma was keener than most when it came to gauging Fischer’s current state of fragility. Maybe it was a woman’s intuition that made her see something in him that struck her as trustworthy. She’d been honest from the start; she wasn’t helping him out of pure kindness. Presently, the two walked on, veering here and there to avoid the many puddles and areas of unfirm ground.
“Mr. Fischer…my grandson-in-law has told me your reason for coming here. And while I do not wish to pry, if I might have it straight from the horse’s mouth, I would like to ask what brings you to the Lake of the Swans?”
“I do not mind your asking, Ma’am,” stepping around a puddle. “To answer your question, I now know it was a rumor that grew as it traveled down the trail. However, prior to my knowing it was only a rumor, I was deeply affected when I heard that a man had come from the west bearing knowledge of a lost treasure trove left by the ancients. I also believed that said man was organizing an expedition to recover the treasure. So I lay awake at night, my mind filled with memories of the great ruin that stands on the shore of the Fifth Sea, and what fantastic secrets its builders must have known. I made a crazy decision. I knew my superiors were unlikely to let me go without a lengthy process, so I left my post in the middle of the night. I gambled everything on one singular hope…to become the chronicler of the Emerson expedition.”
Fischer did not need to explain himself regarding his departure from his post in the dead of night. Emma understood that his superiors, being the most powerful men in the realm, valued their hold on power to such a degree, they might not only deny the scribe his leave, but investigate him with regard to his reasons for wanting to leave.
The two soon arrived at the Emerson camp where Fischer sat down to a healthy meal. Then, being given a clean blanket, he went out back where Jessie, John, Laureal, and Cody were putting up a pair of wickiups. A short time later, the exhausted stranger lay curled up inside his new shelter, fast asleep on a caribou pelt, itself laid atop a padded bed of fresh evergreen boughs.
John, meanwhile, led his surefooted giant into the dripping forest to cut logs for the making of tables and benches. Jessie and Laureal, secretly armed with John’s rifle, went to gather fresh berries, a round-trip journey of six miles due to the depletion of local resources—the upside being that they would return with lots of fresh, plump berries. Harley cut stout fence posts and piled them near Weya’s den. Cody, certain that fishing conditions were perfect for catching whoppers, stopped off in the longhut for his equipment—
“Grandma, that man don’t know nothing!”
“Cody…come and sit down beside me for a moment. It isn’t that Mr. Fischer doesn’t know anything, but rather that he has spent his life applying himself to a different discipline. But at least he knows something of our world, having spent his early childhood here. In his world, however, you would know nothing at all. You would be even more lost than he is out here. What if you suddenly found yourself in his world? Would you want him to scorn you for your ignorance? Or would you rather he lend you a helping hand?”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“That’s what old folks like me are for.”
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