The Flute of the Gods
Of these things he spoke to his mother, and was amazed to learn that she knew of the white man’s gods, and the white men’s goddess. Never had she talked to him of this, and she did not talk to him much now. She only told him that all she knew would belong to him when the time came, and that the time seemed coming fast–but it was not yet. When he was older he could know.
When he talked to her of the many white pages in which the white god had written, she told him that much wisdom–and strong magic must be there. The white men had no doubt stolen for their earth-born god the birth story of Po-se-yemo, the god of her own people. But his magic had been great in that land across the seas and that people had written words of the earth-born god as had certain tribes of Mexico, and all that the god said and did had been written plainly as had been written the records of Quetzel-coatle of the South, and it was not good that their own tribe had not the written records of their gods.
“It may be that the time has come to make such records,” said Tahn-té, “our people should not be behind the other people.”
“We have no written words,”–said his mother;–“our head men who govern have only the deerskin writings of Ki-pah the wise, who lived long ago and did much for the people of Kah-po and Oj-ke, and the people of the river.”
“Of him I have not heard,” said Tahn-té–“was he a god?”
“No–no god, but he lived and worked as a god. He came to this land before the day of my grandfathers. When the time is come, the men of my father’s people will tell you the work he did in our valley, and what he said. So will tell you the old men of Provi-whah and the old men of Kah-po. He came to a land, not to one people, and on the deerskin he painted things never seen but by the wise men who know how to read it.”
The boy stared moodily into the sun swept court of Ua-lano. There were so many things in the world of which no one had ever told him!
“If I am very good, and say very many prayers, and wait on the gods very carefully, will the wise men of the medicine orders tell me of the deerskin records some day?” he demanded.
“Some day–it may be so,” she conceded.
“Good! I will think of that each day as the sun comes up!” he stated. “And the magic of the white man’s writings I will learn for myself. It is a thing which is not kept for sacred places, and no prayers are needed for that!”
The woman of mystery regarded him strangely, yet spoke no word. The magic of the white conquerors was wonderful magic to her, yet she could not ask her son why he only spoke of them as ever beyond some wall which they must not cross,–and of their knowledge as strong knowledge, yet not sacred knowledge.
Between the woman and her son there was often a wall of silence. Even her love could not cross it. There were always spoken or unspoken questions which she left without answers. He was only learning this in the wonderful journey of the desert lands, and he asked fewer questions,–but looked at her more. And:–she knew that also!
The man of the talking white leaves, and the grey gown set in the center of the court a white cross, and all the soldiers knelt, and in front of the dwellings the brown people knelt also–which the Christians deemed a special dispensation that so many heathen had been brought so quickly to their knees at the mere sight of the holy symbol. And in the morning Father Luis decided he would baptize all of them, and have a high mass for the salvation of their souls. The boy who watched the book so closely, was, he felt sure, a convert at mere sight of the white leaves, and the heathen mother would no doubt clamor also for sanctification.
But in the early dusk of the morning the boy and his mother were on the trail for the home valley of the river P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé of which he had dreamed. With them were people of Kah-po, and people of Provi-whah and the Apache woman and her child Yahn. Yahn made some one carry her most of the hard trails, and talked much, and asked many things of the little growing trees in the old urn of ancient Tusayan.
And when they came in sight of the sacred mesa, Tuyo, a runner was sent ahead to tell the governor and the head men of the strange new people of the clanking iron at Ua-lano, and the wonderful and belated home-coming of the lost woman of many years’ mystery.
Because of this they were met at the edge of the mesa by many, and the Woman of the Twilight knelt and touched the feet of the governor and asked that the gate of the valley be open to her and to her son. And Tahn-té knelt also and offered the growing things.
“These are sacred things of which the Ruler must speak,” said the governor. “I am but for one short summer and winter, but the Ruler is for always. Of the new things to bear fruit we still speak in council,–also of the new people trading a new white god for blue stones, and painted robes.”
But Tahn-té knew that a welcome was theirs, for the governor would not have come outside the walls except it had been so, and the old man watched keenly the delight of the boy as the river of that land came clear before him spread at the foot of the wide table land, and the great plain below. Trees grew there, and between them the running water shone in the sun. The Black Mesa Tuyo, Mesa of the Hearts, arose from the water edge,–a great dark monument of mystic rites, and wondrous records of the time when it had been a breathing place for the Powers in the heart of the earth. The rocks were burned so red it always seemed that the fire was still under them. And south was the God-Maid mesa:–its outline as the face of a maid upturned to the sky.
Beyond the river stretched the yellow corn fields–the higher land like a rugged red skeleton from which the soil had been washed,–and beyond that was the great uplift of the pine-clad mountains where the springs never failed, and the deer were many.
Wild fowl fluttered and dove in the waters of the river, grey pigeons flew in little groups from the trail; as they walked, two men in canoes caught fish where a little stream joined the big water of P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé–in every direction the boy was conscious of a richer, fuller life than any he had yet seen. His mother was right–her people were a strong people! and their villages were many in the valleys of the river.
In Povi-whah the clan of the Arrow Stone people welcomed the Twilight Woman as their own, and the men and women who had journeyed with her from Ua-lano looked glad to have journeyed with her,–they had to answer many questions.
Tahn-té also had much practise in the Te-hua words when he tried to tell them what the peach was like, and what the pear was like, and the youth were skeptical as to peaches big as six plums.
A boy larger than he flipped with a willow wand at the urn with the little trees, and told him that in Provi-whah a boy was whipped if he lied too often!
“How many times may a boy lie and not be whipped?” asked Tahn-té, and the other boys laughed, and one stripling gave him a fillet of otter skin in approval, and said his name was Po-tzah, and that their clan was the same.
But the tiny Yahn who looked from face to face, and saw the anger in the face of the boy of the willow wand, caught the switch and brought it down with all the force of her two chubby arms on the nurslings brought from Hopi land.
Tahn-té caught her and lifted her beyond reach of the urn.
“I should have let the strange beasts of the iron men eat you,” he said. “You shall go hungry for peaches if you kill the trees!”
The others laughed as she wriggled clear–and lisped threats even while keeping out of range of his strong hands.
“Always she is a little cat of the hills to fight for Ka-yemo,” said Po-tzah. “Little Ka-yemo will some day grow enough to fight alone!”
Ka-yemo scowled at them, and muttered things, and sauntered away. He was the largest of all of them, but one boy does not fight six!
Yahn was in such a silent rage that she twitched and bent the willow until it was no longer any thing but a limp wreck:–she would break something!
“That is the Apache!” said Po-tzah. “I think that baby does not forget to fight even when she sleeps.”
The little animal flung an epithet at him and ran after the sulky Ka-yemo:–evidently her hero and idol.
The mother of Tahn-té was called in council for things of which Tahn-té was not to know. But he learned that she was of the society of the Rulers:–that from which the spiritual head was selected when the Po-Ahtun-ho or Ruler no longer walked on the earth.
After the council sacred meal was sprinkled on the trees in the urn, and the priests of the order of Po-Ahtun divided them between the Winter people, and the Summer people, that it be proven which the care of the new fruit would belong to for prayers, and each planted them by their several signs in the sky. His mother spoke to him when alone and told him he was now to do a boy’s work in the village, and his training must begin for the ceremonies of high orders into which the council wished him to enter.
“To serve our people?”
“Yes:–it will be so–to serve our people.”
“Since it is to be like that, may I also speak?”–he asked. “May I not speak to the men who decide? I have thought of this each day since Ua-lano. At some time I must speak:–is not this the time?”
“It may be the time,” she assented. “We will go to the old men of the orders. It may be they will listen.”
All night they listened, and all night they talked, and the old men looked at the mother strangely that the son should speak the words of a man in council.
“Thanks that you let me speak,” he said. “Thanks! It is true what you hear of the white gold-hunter’s magic. It is strong. It is good that we find out how it is strong. My mother tells you how the Snake priests of Tusayan make me of their order, so that I can know that magic for the rain ceremony. In my hands also was given the Flute of Prayer to the desert gods, and to know Hopi prayers does not hurt me for a Te-hua:–it is Te-hua prayers my mother teaches me always! So it will not hurt me to learn the magic of the men of iron. They are strong and they will be hard to fight. The grey robe man is the man who teaches of their gods. He teaches it from magic white leaves in his hand, on the leaves there are words–other iron men can talk from them, but only the grey robe is the priest and teaches. He would teach me if I would serve him–then I could have their magic with our own.”
“It may be evil magic,” said one.
“It tames the strange beasts as the Hopi prayers tame the snakes,” replied the boy–“and every day the beasts do work for these people.”
The old men nodded assent–it certainly must be strong magic to do that!
But a man of the Tain-tsain clan arose.
“This woman has been gone many moons on a strange trail,” he said. “The son she brings back to her clan speaks not as a youth speaks. It is as if he has been very old and grows young again. It may be magic–and again it may be that he is half lost in his mind and dreams the dreams of a man. It is a new thing that men listen to a child in council.”
Then K[=a] – ye-fah the aged Po-Ahtun-ho made a sign for silence, and sat with closed eyes, and it was very quiet in the council until he spoke.
“You have brought a big thought out of the world of the Spirit People, Phen-tza,” he said. “It has been given to you to say, and that is well! It has been given to me to see–and I see with prayer. When the God-thought is sent to earth people is it not true that the child of dreams, or the man of dreams, is the first to hear or to feel that thought? Was not the earth-born god, Po-se-yemo, called a youth that was foolish? Was he not laughed at by the clans until he wept? Was he not made ashamed until out of his pain there grew a wisdom greater than earth-wisdom? Let us think of these things, and let us hear the words of the child who dreams.”
“It is well,” said another, “even when half the mind is gone, it may be gone only a little while on the twilight trail to the Great Mystery.”
“The life music comes in many ways,” said K[=a] – ye-fah, the Ruler. “Many reeds grow under the summer sun, but not in all of them do we hear the call of the spirit people when the wild reed is fashioned for the flute. The gods themselves grow the flutes of High Mystery. This youth is only a reed by the river to-day–yet through such reed the gods may send speech for our ears.”
“We will listen,” said the others. “Let us hear more of the men whose blankets are made of the hard substance.” And at this Tahn-té again took courage and spoke.
“These iron men say they are only on a hunting trail–they say they will not trouble the people–that is what their men say who speak for them! But if one boy, or one man, could talk as they talk, you men of Povi-whah would know better if they speak straight. My mother has found the trail to her people on the right day, and has brought me here. I want to be the boy who learns that talk of the hunters of the blue stones and sacred sun metal of the earth, and then I can come back and tell it to the wise men of my mother’s people.”
“But you may not come back.”
“I will ask all the Powers that I will come back. My mother will pray also, and her prayers are strong.”
“I will pray also,” said S[=aa] – hanh-que-ah.
The men smoked, and the boy watched them and waited until K[=a] – ye-fah spoke.
“That which the son of this wise woman says is to be well thought of;–it may be precious to us in days not yet born of the sun. You who listen know that we are living now in a day that was told of by Ki-pah in the years of our Lost Others, and Ki-pah spoke as the god Po-se-yemo spoke:–he was given great magic to see the years ahead of the years he lived.”
“It is true,” assented the governor–“It was when the people yet lived in the caves, and the water went into the sands in that highland–that is when he came to our Lost Others–Ki-pah–the great wisdom. He came from the south, and taught them to come down from the caves and build houses by the great river, and to turn the water to the fields here. All things worked with him–and Kah-po–and Oj-ke and P[=o] – ho-gé were built and stand to this day where he said they must be built. He knew all speech, and could tell magic things from a bowl of clear water. It was in the water he saw men who were white, and who would cover the land if we were not strong. These men are the men he saw in the water. I think it is so, and that this is the time to be strong.”
CHAPTER V
TAHN-TÉ AMONG STRANGERS
The one thing to which the boy gave awed attention was that when the time came for the villages to fight–a leader would be born to them–if the people of the valley were true to their gods they would be strong always, Ki-pah the prophet told them to remember always the war star in the sky–the star Po-se-yemo had told them of, when it moved, the time to make war would be here.
And when the time came to fight, a leader would come to them, as he, Ki-pah had come! Because of this thought was the heart of the boy thrilled that he had been called a reed by the river–a reed through which music of the desert gods might speak.
He was filled with wild fancies of mystic things born of these prophecies. And the old men said that perhaps this was the time of which Po-se-yemo, the god, and Ki-pah, the prophet, had told!
The vote of a Te-hua council has to be the agreement of every man, and the star of the morning brought dawn to the valley before the last reluctant decided it was well to send a messenger to learn of the strange gods.
But as the sun rose Tahn-té bathed in the running water of the river, and his prayer was of joy:–for he was to go!
In joy, and with the light of exaltation in his face he said farewell to boy thoughts, and walked lightly over the highlands and the valleys to Ua-lano, and thence followed the adventurers to Ci-cu-yé and bent the knee to Father Luis, and kissed the cross, and let water be sprinkled over him, and did all the things shown him with so glad a heart that the devoted priest gave praise for such a convert from the pagan people. So pleased was he with the eagerness of Tahn-té to learn, that he made him his own assistant at the ceremonies of the Holy Faith.
And after each one, the boy washed his hands in running water, and scattered prayer meal to the gods of the elements, and to the Sun Father God, and knew that in Provi-whah his mother was praying also that he be not harmed by the god of the gold hunters–and that he come back strong with the white man’s magic.
The boy Ka-yemo of the Tain-tsain clan was also sent–but neither boy was told of the quest of the other. The old men decided it was better so. Without pay they went with the Spanish adventurers, one serving the men of arms and learning the ways of the strange animals, and the other serving the priests and learning the symbols of the strangers’ creed of the one goddess, and two gods, and many Go-h[=e] – yahs, called saints by the men of the iron clothes.
They both saw many strange things in Ci-cu-yé, and they saw the strange Indian slave, whom the old men of Ci-cu-yé instructed to lead the men of iron from their land with the romance of Quivera. And the slave did it, and told the strangers of the mythic land of gold and gems, and lost his life in the end by doing so, but the life of the romance was more enduring than any other thing, and the spirit of that treasure search still broods over the deserts and the mountains of that land.
But the stay of Ka-yemo was not even the length of the first winter with the strangers. For in Tiguex where the great captain (Coronado) wintered, and made his comfort by turning the natives out of their houses, there was a season of grievous strife ere the Spring came, and the two boys of Te-hua saw things unspeakable as two hundred Indians of the valley, captured under truce, were burned at the stake by the soldiers of the cross.
One of the reasons for the crusade to the north as written in the chronicles of Christian Mexico was to save the souls of the heathen for the one god,–and his advocates were sending the said souls for judgement as quickly as might be!
Tahn-té stood, pale and tense in the house where the chapel of Fray Juan Padilla had been established,–once it had been the house of the governor of the village who might even now be among the victims of the broken trust.
On the altar was a crucifix in gold on ebony, and the eyes of the boy were not kindly as he regarded it.
“They lie when they say you are a god of peace like our god Po-se-yemo,” he said. “They lie when they say you are the god of the red man–you are the white god of the white people–and you will let the red men hold not anything that your white children want!”
He heard himself speak the words aloud there alone where the new altar was–he seemed to hear himself saying it over and over as if by the sound of his own voice he could kill the sound of the tortured red men in the court.
A blanketed figure ran in at the open door, halted at the sound of Tahn-té’s voice–and then flung himself forward. It was Ka-yemo and his teeth were chattering at the thought of the inferno without.
“It may be they will not look for us here,” he said as he saw who it was in the chapel–“Perhaps–if one keeps near–to their strong god: and you are close also–and–”
“I stay close because it is my work,”–said Tahn-té. “Some of the men tied to the stakes out there bent before their strong god and said prayers there.–Did it save them?”
“They will kill us–we will never see our people–they will kill us!” muttered Ka-yemo shaken with fear.
“I do not think they want to kill us:–they still need us for many things. We are only boys, we have not wives that we refuse to give to the white men–if we had it might be different, who knows?”
“Is that the cause?”
“The white men will give a different one–but that is the cause! The men of this valley think it is enough if they give their houses, and their corn, and their woven blankets to their fine white brothers:–the red men are foolish men,–so they burn at the stake out there!”
Ka-yemo stared at him, and crouched in his blanket.
“You say strange things,” he muttered. “I think when they get crazy with the spirit to kill that they will kill us all. I do not stay to be killed–I go!”
Tahn-té staring at the emblems of holiness on the altar scarcely heard him.
“I go, Tahn-té,–I go if I have to swim the river with the ice.–Do you stay here to be killed?”
“I am here to learn many things–I learn but little yet, I cannot go.”
“But–if you die?”
“I think it is not yet that I die,” said Tahn-té–“There is much to do.”
“And–if I live to see–our people?”
“Tell my mother I am strong–and I feel her prayers when the sun comes up. Tell the governor I stay to learn what the white god does for the red men; when I have things to tell the people I will come back to Povi-whah.”
But the ice of that winter melted, and the summer bore its fruit, and the second spring time had come to the land before Tahn-té crossed the mesas and stood at his mother’s door.
“Thanks–that you have come,” she said, and wept, and he held her hand and did not know the things to say, only:–“Thanks that our gods have brought me back.”
“And the magic of the white man?”
“It is here,” and he opened a bag made of buffalo skin, and in it were books and papers covered with written words. She looked on them with awe. Her son was only a boy but he had won that which was precious, and earned honors from the men of her tribe and her clan.
“Not to me must you tell it first,” she said–“The Ruler will hear you, and the governor,–they will decide if it is to be known, or if it is to be secret.”
The old men sprinkled prayer meal–and smoked medicine smoke over the books to lift any lingering curses from the white men’s god, and then the boy opened the pages and made clear how the marks stood for words, and the words put all together stood for the talk of the white god. It was a thing of wonder to the council.
“And it is a strong god?” asked the Ruler.
“It is strong for war:–not for peace,” said the boy.
“Ka-yemo brought back the words of the medicine-man of the grey blanket who talked of their god. All his talk was of peace and of love in the heart. Is that true?”
“It is true. He was a good man. It may be that some men are born so good that even the gods of the men of iron cannot make them evil. And Padre Luis was born into the world like that.”
“We listen to you to hear of the moons and the suns since you went away.”
The boy told of the fruitless search to the east for the wonderful land of the slave’s romance, where the natives used golden bowls instead of earthen vessels for food, where each soldier was so sure of gaining riches that the weight of provisions carried was small lest the animals be not strong enough to carry all the gold and the food also.
The old men laughed much at this search for the symbol of the Sun Father along the waters of the Mischipi, and commended the wise men of Ci-cu-yé who had the foresight to plan the romance, and to send the slave to lead the adventurers to the land of false dreams.
It was bad, however, that the strangers had not lost themselves in the prairies, or were not killed by the fierce tribes of the north:–it was bad that they came back to the villages of the P[=o] – s[=o]n-gé river.
Then the boy told of the final despair of the conquerors, and their disheartened retreat to the land of the south. For two years they had terrorized the people of the land–worse enemies than the Navahu or the Comanche or the Apache fighter, then when they had made ruins where towns and gardens had been, they said it was all of no use since the yellow metal was not found in the ground.
“Did the wise men of iron not know that where the yellow metal is in the earth, that there is ever the symbol of the Sun Father, and that it must be a thing sacred and a hidden place for prayer?”
“They did not know that:–no man told them.”
K[=a] – ye-fah, the ancient Ruler blew smoke from his pipe to the four ways, and spoke.
“Yet among the men they burned to ashes in the village square were many who could have told them that, and three who could have told them where such prayer places were hidden! It is well, my children, that they did die, and not tell that which the Sun Father has hidden for his own people:–it is well!”
“It is well!” echoed the others of the council.