The Handsome Ones

Prologue

On May 22, 1541, Hernando de Soto and the four hundred that remained of his band of explorers had their first look at the Mississippi River, in the area where Memphis, Tennessee is today. For months they had traveled from what is now Florida to this place, leaving a trail of destruction behind them ... burned villages, murdered people, other natives taken captive to be used as laborers and beasts of burden. The captives also served as a source of entertainment for De Soto, satisfying his enjoyments of throwing one of the natives to his fighting dogs. In all ways, De Soto looked upon the natives that he encountered as less than human.

On the western side of the Mississippi in what is now Arkansas lived two nations – the Cupaha and the Casqui. Although shadowed and paralleled in many aspects of lifestyle by the Casqui, the Cupaha were clearly the stronger and more advanced of the two peoples. Called the handsome ones by their neighbors, they were both respected and feared. An extremely tall people – some reaching seven feet or more – they appeared to be giants to the relatively small Spaniards. The Cupaha society was characterized by walled villages with moats, job designations, such as hunters, farmers, crafts people, and border guards, and a total lack of disease and deformity. Although each family and village was independent in support, all were governed by one man, the Sunkee who lived at Pacaha, a huge stronghold near the point where the Arkansas and Mississippi Rivers converge. Concern for the welfare of every member of the nation was reflected in a communal system that was used to supply the needs of the aged, the widowed and the orphans. A gentle people with a strong respect for nature and their environment, the Cupaha were also fierce warriors with sophisticated tactics in guerrilla-styled warfare.

When Robert de La Salle visited the same region in the 1600's, every trace of the Cupaha was gone.

*****

May 27, 1541

The meadow near the bluff on the eastern shore of the Great River had quieted for the night. The only sounds were night sounds – the scurrying of small creatures, the constant hum of mosquitoes, the cacophony of crickets and frogs, occasionally interrupted by the soft whicker of horses. On the west side of the meadow near the edge of the bluff overlooking the river, the Spaniards' camp was silent but for the soft snoring of some of the men. The guards dozed over their guns, exhausted from a long and unprofitable journey. Overhead, the moon was bright and nearly full, its peaceful white light belying what occurred below it.

Near the center of the meadow under a small grove of trees, the captive natives huddled close together to conceal what they were doing. Some kept silent watch, while others took care to muffle the sounds of the chains which bound them together, wrist to wrist. One small woman in the center of the group sat silently staring at the moon willing herself into a trance so she might withstand the agony to come. Weirme's companions watched her, timing their breathing with hers to add to the hypnotic atmosphere, hoping to give her what was left of their own waning strength.

Weirme was not thinking of the pain that was to come. She was thinking of the pain she might prevent. Over a hundred moons had passed since she last saw this great river and the bluff on which they now camped. Over a hundred moons had come and gone since she said goodbye to her family and Pacaha, turning east with the man she had accepted as her lifemate. Now that man, her beloved husband, was dead, along with most of her adopted people... all at the hands of these hair faces... all at the hand of the man called Soto. If she could be free of these strange ropes that bound her, ropes that no knife could cut, she might warn her people. She might warn the Cupaha. But she had to be free. She must be free to warn them, no matter what the cost. These thoughts were a murmur on her lips, a chant that began to dull her mind, taking it further and further away from what was about to happen.

When her eyes lost their life, her companions knew that Weirme's spirit was soaring with the moon, separating itself from the pain her body must now endure. Two of the men held her left arm to prevent any involuntary movement. Using a knife stolen from the hair faces, one of the women began to cut through Weirme's arm at the wrist, carefully but crudely tying off veins and arteries with string made of deer gut while another woman held a piece of rabbit skin to catch the blood. Skilled hands, long practiced in cleaning animals, deftly and quickly cut around and between the small bones of the wrist, avoiding both the agony and the noise of breaking any bones. When Weirme's hand was completely cut away, the iron shackle was slipped from her arm and the skin was pulled down over the stump and tied, then covered with a pieced of animal skin which was secured with leather thongs. A man took the lifeless and bloody hand, wrapped it in the already bloody rabbit skin, and buried the small bundle near the stump of one of the trees, hiding the evidence both from the prying eyes of the guards and the inquisitive noses of their dogs. Two women quietly rubbed some blood that, in spite of their care, had spilled onto the dirt, covering it with clean soil in an attempt to also conceal its odor from the dogs.

Still oblivious to the mutilation of her body and thinking only of her goal, Weirme took silent leave of the others. Carefully skirting the sleeping guard dogs, she crawled down the slope of a slight embankment to the edge of the Great River, eased her arms over a log which had secretly been placed there for her earlier in the day, and pushed out into the swift, muddy water. Kicking and steering with her legs, she aimed for a familiar point across the river, drifting with the current. As the river carried her toward her goal, she finally allowed her mind to turn to what had just occurred, and she allowed herself one glance at the stump where her left hand had been. Then she looked at her still attached right hand, grateful that the strange ropes had not bound it instead. The palm of her right hand carried her identification… the Cupaha sign of the four winds that had been tattooed there on her first birthday. Even if no one she had known as a young woman was left alive, anyone she encountered on the western side of the Great River would know that she had been born Cupaha. The comfort of that thought calmed any fear that remained in her, and she turned her attention back to the western shore. She knew the treacherous span of warm water well, and she adjusted her direction with skill in order to avoid the churning whirlpools ahead of her. An occasional large fish would brush against her legs, investigating her activity, but none made an effort to harm her.

As Weirme neared the opposite shore, the current unexpectedly began to increase. The force of the water was much stronger than she had anticipated as it began twisting and turning the log, wrenching it out of her control. Looking around, she realized she was being rapidly swept toward a half-submerged tree trunk, and she increased her efforts to regain guidance of the log. The muscles in her body screamed in their final surge of strength, but the trauma of the last months, especially the last hours, had drained them, and her arms and legs stopped moving, refusing to obey her mental commands. Helplessly, as if she were observing this grisly tragedy happening to another person, Weirme watched her legs being crushed and crushed again, as the brutal, inexorable current pounded her and the log against the obstacle. When the tortuous onslaught ceased, she hung limp in the water, the weight of her body balancing her across the log which now drifted gently toward the western shore.

*****

Chapter 1

(Late Spring, 1541)

Kneeling by the mountain stream, Te'neah washed the last of the sassafras roots and put them in the large basket with the others she had dug during the day. She then rinsed and filled a large, deep-throated clay bottle with water and set it beside her, sighing as she did so, her chores for the day at an end. This was good, for dark clouds were swiftly filling the western sky, and dusk was creeping swiftly into the forest.

This place, this deep valley, was the part of Cupaha land that Te'neah loved most. Through it ran a clear, clean stream which gushed from the bowels of the mountain. The valley itself offered peace and seclusion like Te'neah could find nowhere else. As matriarch of the Cupaha, the queen of her nation, and the wife of Aquaso, the Sunkee, it was required that she travel with him on these yearly visits to the more than fifty villages under his rule. This beautiful valley was always their final stop before returning to the walled fortress of Pacaha in the east. It was here that they would extend their visit. And it was here that Te'neah at last found privacy.

Te'neah turned to the woman next to her and spoke softly. You and the others should leave now, Wasati. You have time to reach your village before the rain starts. Take this basket of roots and put it in the lodge with the other things we have gathered.

Wasati called to her companions who were as eager as she to return to their homes. Getting to her feet, Wasati hauled the heavy basket of roots onto her hip and held it in place with both hands. The other women hastily gathered their baskets and bags, took their leave of Te'neah, and moved toward the forest trail that led to the village at the foot of the mountain.

Wasati was Te'neah's handmaiden when she visited this area. She and the other women she chose were always available to assist Te'neah when she visited, just as it was with each of the villages. By right, Te'neah could have all work done for her. But even at Pacaha, Te'neah never took advantage of that right. She did not like being idle, preferring to care for her husband and herself on her own.

With the help of Wasati and the others, Te'neah had spent the better portion of two suns roaming the mountainside, digging for roots, gathering cuttings of bark and twigs. The species of shrubs and trees from which her collection came were found only in this area of Cupaha land. She would take them back home to the stronghold of Pacaha, just as she did every spring following her tour with Aquaso. There the supply supported her pharmacopoeia, with which she could devise cures for many minor illnesses when her people needed them.

The women were gone. Te'neah stood up and looked about for a moment. The sun was dropping behind the western hills, bringing with it a chilling dampness that added to the ominous look of the sky. To the north, lightning danced from cloud to cloud, and occasionally the low, rumbling voice of thunder threatened. The small forest creatures listened attentively and, one by one, began to scamper to shelter, heeding the warning of the approaching storm. Erratic gusts of wind tossed leaves into the air and settled them gently to the earth or flitted carelessly through the treetops, leaving whisperings.

Te'neah grasped the heavy jug of water by its slender throat and started along a short, winding path. It led to the foot of a rock bluff which towered heavenward, dwarfing the trees which grew at its base. Nestled halfway up the face of the bluff was her shelter. The ledge and half-moon shaped opening behind it could be reached by natural steps in the face of the bluff, carved out by eons of wind, rain, and ice.

Balancing the heavy bottle as she went, Te'neah climbed to the ledge. When she reached her goal, she eased the bottle onto the floor and pushed it to one side. Her refuge was of solid rock, arching high in the middle, slanting to either side and sloping gently back to form a deep niche nearly thirty feet behind her. A thick slab of rock formed the flat surface of the floor. Towering above her was a continuation of the bluff, making it difficult for her to be molested by beast or element. The cave was a much valued and appreciated haven.

The fire Te'neah had built earlier in the day had been carefully banked and was now a glowing bed of hot coals. Truant children of the wind stole bits of dry ashes, twirling and twisting tiny pinwheels in the dust and, tiring of the game, sped away to new mischief. As she watched this caprice, Te'neah sniffed the air and smiled. Cradled securely over the glowing coals in a nest of tall stones was a clay pot. In it bubbled the marsh hen stew Te'neah had started early in the day. Throughout the day she had added wild onions and herbs, a few vegetables furnished by the women of the nearby village, and finally a good handful of wild rice to give the broth body. The smell was wonderful. She sampled the pot's contents to be sure; yes, the meal would live up to its promise.

She now made bread cakes by mixing an egg and water into fresh ground corn meal and adding a touch of bear grease, walnuts and dried grapes. After forming the cakes with her hands she laid them on a flat stone over the coals, inverted a round baking dish over them to form an oven, and left them to bake. It would take a short while before they were done.

With nothing left to do but wait, she pulled a heavy fur robe from a pile at the back of the niche. She spread it on the floor against the wall away from the fire but near the shelter opening and sat down, pulling the fur close to her body for warmth. The storm was much closer now, but it no longer seemed to be so violent. The wind was still up, though, and in the mountain cleft it was good to have a soft robe around her.

She was almost sad that this was her last night in the shelter of this cave. They had arrived at this mountain village five suns ago. For the past moon, they had traveled the waterways of the Cupaha land in Aquaso's fleet of dugouts, manned by his warriors. At each village, Aquaso would inspect the village to ensure that all was well and life was being conducted according to Cupaha law. If there were disputes that could not be settled by the village Sunkee, Aquaso decided what was fair and just according to Cupaha tradition. When he was satisfied that all was as it should be, the final ceremony would be held to exchange tribute.

Their stay here was always a little longer than at the other villages, and not just because Te'neah loved it so much. Here, Te'neah could gather her medicinal supplies from this mountain, and Aquaso could barter with traders from the southwest. Unlike the other villages they visited, no lodge had been prepared for their stay. Here, in deference to Te'neah's wishes, she and Aquaso always occupied the shelter in the bluff. At night, Aquaso's personal guard of warriors slept and kept watch in another niche at the base of the bluff, while the rest of the nearly two hundred men who traveled with them would sleep in lodges provided for them in the village.

Peace and seclusion were not the only attraction this valley held for Te'neah. It was in this isolated place, at the first budding of springtime such a long time ago, where Te'neah had last seen her only son alive. Her son's body was still lost somewhere in the heart of the mountain beneath the shelter where she now sat.

He was a youth just past his twelfth winter when the family had tarried at the village below on the riverbank. The boy had gone exploring alone, and when he did not return, a search was made. His rope was found tied to a tree, the other frayed end dangling into a large hole in the ground. Men shouted into the hole, and ropes were dropped into what seemed a bottomless pit. Other young men of slight weight descended by ropes hand over hand into the hole, but climbed back to the top when no landing could be found. Desperate but fruitless attempts were made to enter the hole with lighted torches, but the spirit of the mountain blew out the flames and would not permit them past the opening. No other sign of the boy was ever found.

Since that time, on their early springtime visits to this village, Te'neah and Aquaso had stayed alone in the bluff shelter. Their desire for privacy had been honored.

Te'neah's thoughts now turned to her daughter, Tawanee, and the problem that weighed heavily on her mind. Tawanee was a lovely maiden, one who should have long ago chosen a mate but had not. This was beginning to cause Te'neah concern, because it would be through Tawanee that the leadership of the people would be perpetuated.

Now Te'neah waited patiently for Aquaso and hoped he would reach the shelter before the rain began. She also hoped this day had gone well with him, because the discussion of Tawanee's marriage would require his spirit to be happy in order for the outcome to go her way.

*****

Chapter 2

Just as the first drops of rain began to lash the soft earth outside the shelter, Aquaso bounded onto the ledge. As he stood for a moment breathing deeply, the heavens opened, and the torrent came down. Aquaso turned from the entrance, and his eyes greeted his woman affectionately as he removed his personal pouch and handed it to her.

Te'neah grinned with anticipation as she took the pouch. She reached for a torch, lit it and anchored it securely in a crevice in the rock floor near her pallet. Eagerly she pulled the pouch open and rummaged through the contents to see what he had brought her from the traders. This show of excitement and interest always pleased Aquaso, and he had never failed throughout the years to bring her valuable tokens, usually the result of shrewd bartering. Today there were copper beads and baubles and a pouch of small, exquisite black pearls. But the gift which caught her interest was a bracelet of a metal which she had never seen before. It was the color of the sun and in the shape of a coiled snake.

Aquaso sat down and stretched his legs before him with his back resting against the wall of the cave. He was tired and glad his business at this village was at an end. He was oblivious to the storm, to his surroundings, to all but the shining wonder and excitement reflected in Te'neah's eyes as she looked at the bracelet in the light of the flickering fire. She put it on her wrist. Its glow was hypnotizing as it caught and reflected the light. Never had she seen such beauty.

In her excitement, she piled her questions one upon the other. What is this? Where did it come from? How did you get it?

Aquaso laughed with pleasure, but changed the subject as if it was of no great importance. I will tell you about it later. Now, woman, feed me. I am hungry.

Te'neah smiled at Aquaso's teasing delay. This was his habit, to make others wait until he was ready. In her youth this had sometimes infuriated her. But now, after many years together, Te'neah knew that between them it was only a game. Not wanting to delay the answers to her questions any longer than necessary, Te'neah bustled about in the firelight, making ready to serve the meal, all the while fascinated with the bracelet on her arm. She filled a wooden bowl with a generous portion of the stew, placed an elk horn spoon in it, put a hot bread cake on a wooden slab and placed it all before Aquaso.

With a playful flick of her hand, she said, Eat!

Continuing his silent torment, Aquaso reached for his food and slowly and methodically began to eat, pretending to ignore his lifemate. He had enjoyed watching her as she opened the pouch, the excitement lighting up her eyes. He always enjoyed watching this woman who had stirred his loins in his youth. Te'neah was a mature woman in her prime. Although the skin on her face had darkened and weathered a bit with time and the elements, beneath it was still the moist flesh of youth. Her body was still slender and, if anything, improved with her time on earth. Even now, looking at her aroused him.

Consumed only by her curiosity about the bracelet and innocent of the new thoughts in Aquaso's mind, Te'neah quietly served her own dinner. She matched her husband's deliberate silence. Their meal progressed much too slowly for Te'neah, but Aquaso enjoyed himself as he noted Te'neah's curious agitation. The rain continued to splash outside as the storm passed overhead.

Te'neah finished eating first, then sat waiting for her husband. She was bursting to hear the story behind the bracelet, but his game must be played. Finally, with a wry smile on his lips, Aquaso put down his bowl and his spoon and told her what had been told to him.

The bracelet came from a land very far from here between the south and the west. The metal it is made of is greatly valued in that land. It belonged to a very rich and powerful queen who traded it to assure her safe passage across the salt water.

The salt water? Te'neah asked.

Yes. This bracelet has been in the hands of many traders. The one who brought it to me knew of my liking for black pearls and good copper beads, and he thought I might have an interest in it. He was right.

With part of her curiosity satisfied, Te'neah relaxed against the shelter wall and held her arm before her, admiring the golden light the bracelet reflected from the fire.

I wonder what this metal is that is so valued in its homeland. It must come from the sun. It is the same color. Te'neah continued to watch the bright colors of the fire shine on the bracelet.

Still enjoying her reaction to his gift, Aquaso said, There are rumblings from the south again.

Tico?

Aquaso grunted. Yes. Who else?

Has he attacked one of our villages again?

No, Aquaso said.

What then?

The traders say he is planning something. He has called in all of his chiefs, and they sit together all day, arguing. Perhaps he still has not learned his lesson. Perhaps he is still stupid and once again will try to defeat the Cupaha.

Perhaps when his mother bound his head she injured his mind, Te'neah said.

That is possible, Aquaso said. I have always thought his pointed skull might be offensive to our God. Perhaps Tico and his stupidity are a curse of Oowa'naheh.

Who can know? He may only be evil.

Aquaso grunted his agreement. There were many possibilities. He lay down and folded his arms under his head. I tire of this talk of Tico. I will decide how to deal with him later.

Te'neah compliantly changed the subject. Is there any other news from the village?

Three marriages will be announced at the celebration of the new year, Aquaso said. One is that of Lanassa, the daughter of the Sunkee.

Te'neah was delighted. Without realizing it, Aquaso had opened the subject that had been on her mind since they left Pacaha. She watched Aquaso's reaction closely as she said, There is another Sunkee whose daughter should soon announce her marriage also. When Aquaso only cocked an eyebrow in response she continued, It is well past time for Tawanee to select a husband… but our daughter is too happy with her life as it is. Unless we encourage her, she might never marry. She pressed her subject further. All of the Cupaha nation will be at Pacaha for the celebration of the new year. Since Tawanee's choice of a lifemate is of interest to all our people, it would be appropriate for her to present her bowl of cornmeal while everyone is present. We could plan to have her marriage three moons from now during the green corn celebration.

Aquaso had watched Te'neah studiously as she talked. When she was at last silent he looked away from her eyes, out into the darkness of the stormy night. Tawanee enjoyed her status as his daughter, and was not eager to sacrifice it for the title of wife to a lesser man. His daughter was the flower of his heart and it pained him to think of imposing anything upon her. So he answered his woman gruffly, not looking at her. I see no hurry for Tawanee to marry. She is still young. She will select a husband when she is ready. If she does not marry while we are alive, our people will always honor her and protect her even if we are gone.

Te'neah could not deny it. She was descended from Tamat. Tawanee, as her daughter, would one day be queen of the Cupaha, as was her right by birth.

Te'neah did not respond immediately. She sat quietly, waiting for the disquiet she could sense within her husband to be stilled. There was no reason to risk an exchange of angry words. She only wanted her purpose to be accomplished.

When Aquaso seemed to have calmed, Te'neah said softly, I was her age when our son was born.

At the memory of past happiness Aquaso's face relaxed. He smiled at his lifemate and teased, But you had a good warrior to wed.

Te'neah returned his smile. And is there no one good enough for Tawanee? When he did not reply, she went on, Have you not thought she might give you an heir? A boy child? You still have life in you to instruct him.

Aquaso turned his head slowly toward her. The possibility of Tawanee's having a boy child was a new thought for him. He smiled at Te'neah and said, You are right, my woman. It is time Tawanee chose a husband, and it is time I had a grandson. He thought a moment and then asked, Do you know someone she favors?

Now Te'neah relaxed. She has not spoken to me, but I think she favors Chertoc. I have seen her watching him many times when she thought no one was looking.

Aquaso thought a moment, then smiled in agreement. Chertoc! A good choice. He is strong, clever, intelligent, a leader, and an exceptional young warrior. Much as I was at his age.

Pleased she had won this battle, Te'neah replied, I will talk with Tawanee when we return. If she is agreeable, my sister and I will arrange for a visit with the mother and aunt of Chertoc.

Aquaso got to his feet, walked over to the opening of the shelter and stepped out far enough to see the fire in the niche at the base of the bluff where his personal guard was camped. It was another natural shelter in the base of the cliff, not as large as this one, but quite adequate to provide shelter for his men. He could hear the quiet talk and relaxed laughter as they prepared for the night.

The heavy rain had stopped. Outside the shelter could be heard the soft, wet sounds of dripping from the trees and cliffs onto the ground below. The forest animals were quiet, probably enjoying the clean-smelling breeze that blew in the wake of the storm. An occasional rumble could be heard in the distance as the storm moved on toward the east.

Aquaso turned quietly and walked toward his pallet,