LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 47
With the approach of evening, the meeting in the big tent concluded, as did the campground events. Then, as in years past, all came together for a feast at the lakeside where a mild breeze came across the water to discourage mosquitoes and flies. Further measures to deny the winged nuisances had been taken in advance. The cook fires had been strategically placed in a crescent that enclosed the feast area to the lakeshore. And with the cooking done, the fires were used to burn sweet grass. This had the effect of fencing off the feast area with a pleasant, vanilla-like scent that repelled mosquitoes and flies. And thanks to the fresh breeze coming over the water, the feast area remained clear of the smoke and smell, which freed the olfactory senses for a feast said to be worth the journey alone. At the conclusion of the feast, the evening would proceed with music and dance around a large bonfire. At present, however, the self-serve tables had been loaded with food, and the dining tables awaited. It was the evening of the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, chosen to celebrate the rendezvous’s ongoing success. A feast poised against the backdrop of the lake, sparkling like a sea under the fiery globe of a summer sun.
“I’ve never seen so much food in all my life!” exclaimed Cody, in line with Rowena behind John and Laureal, his wooden spoon and plate in hand.
Having reached the beginning of the first serving table, Laureal spooned herself a serving of wild rice with mushrooms, pine nuts, and wild herbs. “I want to sample everything.”
That she might be heard above the clamor, Jessie leaned in to speak in her mother’s ear, “This reminds me of the old days,” her fond tone reminiscent of Emerson clan gatherings.
As good as the old Emerson gatherings had been, the present gathering was considerably larger, comprising many clans. In total, more than two hundred Kasskatchens would fill ten long tables where Patriarchs and Matriarchs would sit surrounded by family members. Chieftains, who had come specifically for the meeting, sat with their warriors, who were most often sons and grandsons. The founder of the rendezvous, a man without a family and yet widely looked on as the frontier’s greatest advocate and protector, Rutin Elkhart, sat with his band of warriors, seventeen elite fighters, many in the prime of life, some family men, some bachelors, all fiercely loyal to Elkhart.
Our hero and heroine, John and Laureal, seated themselves with Harley and Jessie, Anders and Mia, Cody and Rowena, Noah and Sophie, Mr. Timmerman and Mrs. Timmerman, their two sons, their eldest son’s wife, and toddler daughter, along with Mr. Fischer, Julian, Kale, Levi—all together around their Matriarch, Emma Emerson of the House of Emerson.
Every Kasskatchen bowed their head as Rutin Elkhart said grace. Then, as the eating began, Elkhart, sitting at his table and having some discussion of a topic unknown (except that an onlooker might see his men nodding and thus put two and two together), stood up with plate in hand and proceeded to the Emerson table where he seated himself beside the Matriarch.
“Ginning up the grapevine, are we?” Emma asked under her breath, seeing how Rutin’s move had garnered no small attention.
Sharing a smile, Rutin chuckled lowly. Then, turning to John and Laureal, “How are those puppies?”
“They’re happy to be back with their mother,” Laureal replied.
“I haven’t much experience in dog sledding,” John began, “but as we alluded to earlier, I hope to make sled dogs of them.”
“Well…having seen them, I think you’re off to a good start.”
“Have you done much sledding, sir?”
“Oh yes, quite a lot…and so have my men.”
John tried not to smile too big lest he hint at secret plans yet in the works.
Mia looked on keenly, “John…you certainly look happy.”
“So does Laureal,” Anders put in.
“We are happy!” Laureal leaned into John, beaming up at him.
Under the table, Jessie rubbed her foot on Harley’s foot, her emerald eyes shining.
Smiling, Harley lifted his eyes from his plate, the masculine cut of his face framed by thick flowing hair.
“Mr. Fisher,” Mrs. Timmerman began, “I’m so glad to see your health has improved.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I owe it to fresh air, useful activity, healthy food, and good company.”
The pleasant conversation went around the table, often cascading into laughter. The light grew soft, the frogs lifted their voices and, in the sunset, a flock of cormorants made flying look easy as they glided over the lake.
Having refilled his plate, Mr. Timmerman looked down the way at Julian, “Young master Julian, I hear you ran the ‘Black Widow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s not common…even among men that run the gauntlet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You came through none the worse for wear…obviously.”
“By the skin of our teeth,” glancing at Anders.
“We should have taken the portage, like everyone else with a brain,” Anders commented as if to make no more of it.
“Why is that?” asked Cody, halfway through gnawing the flesh off a hog’s rib.
“Julian can tell the tale, but…well,” looking down at his plate, suppressing a temptation to agitation, the big man lifted his eyes to those around him, “I was misled by a man who claimed to have been through the ‘Black Widow.’ I have since learned that he had never been near the Black Widow.” And with a groan, “Foolish me, I chose to look past his swagger and take him at his word. I should have seen, he only wanted me to think him a big man.”
“Bigger than you?” Noah asked, himself believing that Anders, a tree trunk of a man, must be among the biggest men ever.
Anders smiled at the boy, “There are two kinds of big. A man may be big, like me…that is one kind of big. But there’s another kind of big, and it is more important. It’s who we are on the inside. Are we brave, or not? Are we honest, or not? You see, the man lied because he wanted me to think him a big man. And well, you see, if in this life, we choose to mislead people, we might cause them to be hurt…or even killed. And that is why being big enough on the inside to tell the truth is much more important than being big on the outside.”
Noah, who was only old enough to understand the simplest aspects of human behavior, looked from Anders to his mother. His mother, quick to read the realization in her son’s eyes, turned to beam at Anders, and such was the power of her gaze!
At last, Anders looked away, down into the flames. “I decided to run the Black Widow rapid, and Julian and I were nearly killed.”
“We never once spilled,” Julian quickly threw in, coming to the defense of his mentor.
“We didn’t spill, but we did wreck, and how we came out of it without a broken craft, or bones, or worse…well, that was God’s grace. The blame rests on my shoulders. I had accounts from others, including one man who had actually been there. His account did not expose the liar, for stories of the place are many, and the liar was not concise. That said, the man who had really been there was much more cautionary. Far more cautionary, far more detailed and, as a result, more confusing. But as confused as that place is, this good and honest fellow nevertheless went out of his way to impress on me one piece of advice above all else, and…well, I had no idea how critical it would prove to be.”
“Stay away from the east side of the river, no matter how tempting,” said Elkhart, a knowing look in his eye.
“That’s it,” painfully, “and believe me, the temptation was great.”
“How so?” asked John.
“Because,” Julian cut in, “while the rapids on the west side are doing all they can to crush your hull and skull, it’s impossible not to see the east side as an escape route. But in reality…it’s a death trap.”
“We’re getting ahead of the story,” said Anders, looking at Julian, “Let me explain a few things. Then you can tell them from the start if you like.”
Anders turned to the others, “We had just come off a two-day portage around a set of five falls. It had been a long haul. We’d been rained on most of the way. The slippery rocks, mud, dripping trees, and biting bugs had us wanting to get back on the water. We were at the base of the fifth waterfall, but to put in there meant running the ‘Black Widow.’ We could instead continue on the second leg of the portage to get around the danger, but that would mean carrying gear for another day and a half across rugged terrain. On the other hand, if we ran the rapids, we’d be through and on to easy water in a few hours. So there we were, at the base of the waterfall, trying to decide what to do. We’d been told to look for water level marks scratched into the cliff beside the waterfall. We found the marks and saw the current level, which meant large rapids lay ahead. We knew that under such conditions, the wise choice was to continue on the portage, but we were fed up with portaging. A storm was on our heels, coming up from the south, and we figured we could outrun it on the water. And besides that, our approach all along had been to do it all. That’s why we got an early start on the season, to be the first men through. So there we were, trying to decide, looking down the way with no time to waste. Directly before us, a calm stretch of water extended out several hundred yards from the base of the waterfall. So we could only see the beginning of the rapids up ahead. We climbed a cliff for a better look, but we couldn't see the rapids in any detail. We had to make a decision. That’s when the lie I’d been told came into play…the lie about the difficulty not being as great as some said. The lie tipped the scales between what I could see and the different accounts I had gathered. And so, we decided to go for it.”
“More than a few men have drowned there.” Rutin held a half-eaten drumstick in his hand, that of a young goose, honey-basted and slow-roasted.
“We came close,” Anders replied.
Julian turned to Rutin, “I’ve since been told, sir, that you are one to know about that very thing.”
Nodding and swallowing down a bite, “Long ago…the first time I ran the gauntlet and the only time I ran the Black Widow. My canoe partner, Carl, and I came across the bodies of two men. We had shared a campsite with them only the night before. All four of us being young men and, well, talking like young men do…we talked ourselves into it. We would run the Black Widow! They went ahead of us, and a day later, we found them. We could only guess, but they must have sought escape on the east side and fallen into the trap. Anyway, they were at the bottom of the Widow, in the ‘roller pin.’ We had a heck of a time fishing them out of there, but they had seemed like such nice fellows, we thought they should have a proper burial.”
“What’s the roller pin?” asked Levi, thoroughly engrossed.
“It’s the death bite of the ‘Black Widow.’”
“What?”
“It’s the trap at the end; just when you’ve spent all your strength and you think you’ve made it…a surprise drop hurls you down into a truly massive roller pen. If one can fight his way through, he’s certain to be overtaken by a flood of appreciation for life and a deep desire to stand on solid ground. But for the one that gets caught in the roller pin…even before he is completely drowned, his bones are violently twisted from their joints.”
“Could we please stop with all the stopping and starting and just tell the story from start to finish?” Cody demanded.
“Cody,” Jessie warned, her brows knitted.
“Sorry,” glancing around the table.
“What a wonderful dinner topic,” Mia complained, having put her food down.
“Agreed,” said Anders, “and it can wait until later.”
John, Cody, Kale, and Levi appeared disappointed, but as we shall see, Julian would get his chance to tell the tale. In the meantime, it is enough to know they enjoyed one another’s company in a feast where every dish bore a chef’s labor of love in a once-a-year event that brought delight to every palate.
The afterglow gave way to the star dome. A half-moon softly illuminated the lake. A great bonfire was lit, and as it grew, fingers of light spread across the campgrounds while children marveled at the pillar of embers rising like magic into the night sky. A group of musicians struck up a tune. It began with a trio playing deer bone flutes, their ghostly notes like spirits calling from the wood. A drummer came in with a slow beat, growing strong like the approach of a Viking longboat. A pair of stringed instruments sprang to life, each with four strings stretched over a hollow wooden box; one instrument played with a pick, the other with a bow.
Round and round the bonfire, the youth waltzed in pairs. On cue, they stopped, separated, and broke into what might be called a Zumba dance—their feet planted apart, knees bent, one arm cocked, one arm out, they poised as if to throw a spear. Then, shifting their hips and turning their shoulders, they poised as if to throw a spear in the opposite direction. Springing up, they joined together again, waltzing around the fire only to stop, separate, and zumba. Waltz, zumba, waltz, zumba, again and again, working themselves up while the musicians played as if nothing should be left for tomorrow.
Meanwhile at the dining tables, the adults were winding down. Mr. Timmerman and his wife took their leave with words of thanks and well wishes. Arm in arm, they vanished into the shadows cast by the bonfire.
Turning to gaze out over the water, Jessie sighed, “What a beautiful evening.”
Harley turned his eyes to her, his voice full of content, “The Artist never ceases to amaze.”
Noah looked around the table, his earnest little face illuminated in firelight, “It’s a good thing He didn’t make another storm.”
Chuckles went around.
“If not for His grace,” said Mia.
“Indeed…and with us arguing all day,” Elkhart added.
“Really?” asked Jessie.
“Yes.”
“Oh my goodness,” suddenly concerned, “I hope things are okay?”
“I’m sure they will be,” reassuringly. Then, turning to Emma, “Thank you, Emma, for a most enjoyable evening. Thank you all.”
“Thank you, Rutin.”
“Before I turn in, I would like to stretch my legs. Would you care to join me, Emma, for a short stroll around the campgrounds?”
No more had Rutin and Emma departed than Mia turned to Jessie, “Are they like…a couple now?”
“I have no idea!”
At the bonfire, John and Laureal left the circle of dancers and took a seat on a birch log bench beside Kale, Levi, and Julian.
“Too wild for a pregnant girl,” said Laureal, happy all the same. Cody and Rowe, meanwhile, smiled and laughed while waltzing madly past.
Julian rose from his seat, “I’ll be back,” and walking away, he turned back to them with a grin, “Hopefully not too soon.”
They watched as he asked a young woman to dance. The young lady accepted, and as a result, her pretty friend was left sitting alone.
At once, John turned to Kale and Levi, “One of you go ask her to dance.”
“She’s looking over here,” Laureal added, “and look how pretty she is,” leaning into her cousin Levi as if to push him off the log bench.
John growled lowly, “Go ask her!”
Levi began to rise, but Kale beat him to the punch, and as the young lady accepted his invitation, the pair joined the dance. Then, coming full circle around the blazing fire, they reappeared, promenading with delight.
Catching a movement out of the corner of his eye, John turned to see two shadows walking on the periphery. “Looky there,” tapping his wife’s shoulder.
Laureal squinted into the dark, “Is that, Emma and Rutin?”
“None other.”
“They’ve been together all day,” somewhat puzzled.
John grinned, his dark eyes shining, “I wouldn't have guessed your grandma to be a ‘fast-mover.’”
Pursing a frown, Laureal jabbed her fingers into John's side.
“Hey!” scowling at her.
Twenty minutes later, Emma sat on the porch of her longhut. Sipping tea, she looked out over the moonlit lake. Music floated in the air, mixed with the laughter of youth. She could see them, out there in the midst of the dark, dancing around the fire’s glow like a distant memory from her youth. She turned her eyes to Rutin, sitting beside her, a cup of tea in hand.
“This reminds me of the old days at the annual rendezvous in Grandal.” Her tone was reminiscent.
“I remember seeing you there,” said Rutin. “Not for the summer rendezvous, but in autumn.”
“Really?”
“Yes. The Great Grove of the Maples was in full color, and people had come from all over the realm to see them. You were walking with your kin in the midst of the crowds, and yet, you stood out as if alone. You were all of eighteen, I would guess. Your step was light, your hair long and golden.”
“That, was a long time ago.”
“Yes, but I can still remember. Carl, myself, and all of us young men...you cast a spell on us, even as we knew you were promised.” Smiling fondly, he added, “In particular, I remember what Hannes Olsen said about you.”
“Do I want to know?” as curious as she was cautious.
“Hannes said that not one of us should be surprised if Emma Emerson were to hang her cloak on a sunbeam.”
“Hah!” Emma tossed her head even as she smiled. She understood the insinuation. In heaven, angels hung their cloaks on sunbeams.
“I’m only telling what I heard with my own ears,” Rutin pleaded in self-defense, and continuing lowly as if to himself, “and I never heard anyone disagree.”
Emma returned her eyes to him, “I don’t remember it that way. But I do remember the Great Grove of the Maples, and the Great Grove of the Oaks. And in between them, the Great Hall of the People.”
“And the crystal clear water of the lake, just there,” Rutin added.
“And the leaves shimmering in the breeze.”
“And the people picnicking in the shade, strolling under the trees, and mingling in the centrum of the Great Hall.”
His cup stalled halfway to his lips; Rutin sighed, “Nothing good lasts forever…not on earth anyway.” And finishing his tea, he set his cup down, “Here on earth, we either fight for what we love or surrender to those who would trample it underfoot.”
“Down here,” Emma began, “we’re screwed either way but for God’s grace.”
Both set to chuckling. Then falling silent, they shared fond glances until, at last, having settled into their own thoughts, Emma asked, “Do you suppose there might be something to what the slave said…about the monolith being a box with people inside?”
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