excerpt
…drums and Native laughter, the war party seemed to grow almost silent. Rordan
stopped and Painted Face called out once more, “Nikamu! Nikamu! Nikamu!” This
time much softer. He gazed at the suffering monk, turning his head side to side.
“Ad te clamamus exsules filii Evae.” He paused for effect, then continued, “ad te
suspiramus, gementes et flentes, in hac lacrimarum valle.”
Another voice joined in. It was the voice of Ula. “Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos
tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte.”
Then Brothers Ailan and Keallach also joined the hymn, “et Iesum, benedictum
fructum ventris tui, nobis post hoc exsilium ostende.”
Brother Rordan finished the last line alone. “O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo
Maria.”
Brother Rordan and his companions sang again. As the song ended, the savages
clapped their hands, shouted and laughed.
The warrior reached out with a large flint knife and cut the bonds that tied Rordan
to the pole. A dozen more surrounded him and lifted him into the air. “Nikamu!
Nikamu! Nikamu!”
An old woman rubbed soothing ointment onto Rordan’s burns while Painted
Face stood by her side nodding his head and beaming while repeating over and over,
“Nikamu Hototo, Nikamu Hototo.”
Ula, Keallach, Ailan, Bjorn and Ari, all still naked, were also being treated by
grandmothers. Bjorn and Keallach had been burned on their chests with hot stones
and had big raw patches the size of a man’s foot. Ari had had scalding water poured
on his feet, which were bubbling up with blisters. Not one had cried out in pain.
Somehow they sensed that crying out would brand them for death, although everyone
felt quite sure they’d die sooner or later.
The most horrifying part of the ordeal for Ailan was having a finger cut off by a
small boy, hardly old enough to hold a knife. The same grandmother who had held
the finger extended now wore it on a leather thong about her neck while she cauterized
Ailan’s stump with a red-hot ember. It wasn’t the loss of the finger that bothered
him as much as the fact that a child had done the deed.
Rordan’s mind raced with questions: Why the raid? Where had they been taken?
Who were these people? Why had they been singled out for capture and torture?
Where was White Eagle during all this? Where were their friends? Why had the village
been deserted before the raid?
Since Finten and his band had arrived a little more than a year before, there
had never been an attack by any other tribe or nation. Even when provoked,
the First Light People chose peace. Only a week ago, the village had celebrated
a sweat lodge for Brown Bear and his family to heal and forgive the death of his
little daughter, Namid, raped and murdered by one of the Norsemen who had
brought the seven to their land. Bjorn had made peace with Brown Bear for the
savagery committed by his fellow crewman. Bjorn killed the rapist murderer
and Ari avenged his young friend, Brother Lorcan, murdered by another Norseman.
Why an attack now was beyond explanation. As guests of White Eagle and
his tribe, they had served their time and proven their worth to the First Light
People who were now their friend…
Libros Libertad 