The Peacemaker nodded. “It will be a great thing to see. And you will have a good place from which to see it. Those of your village have agreed to be waiting on this side of the lake to join us as we leave our canoes.”

Okwaho could barely contain himself. He wanted to shout, to leap up and down. But somehow he managed to control himself and speak calmly the only words he could think to say.

“Niaweh! Thank you,” he said. “We will be honored.”

“One more thing,” the Peacemaker said. “May I have permission to carry this song of yours? I think it will be of use.”

Okwaho nodded, but he also had to say something, words that came spilling out of his mouth like water from a dam that had broken.

“I cannot say that song belongs to me. It came to me. It gave itself to me. It wanted to be heard. I am not the one to give permission. It is the choice of the song itself. I believe it wanted to give itself to you. Carry it with you, please. But do not say it came from me.”

A broad smile came over the Peacemaker’s face. It was like seeing the sun rise above the clouds. “Shall I say then that a little bird gave this song to me?” he asked.

Okwaho smiled up at him. “Yes, that would be good.”

chapter sixteen

A THOUSAND CANOES

It was a day so calm that the clouds, still glowing from the rising sun, did not move or change shape in the sky above the lake. Okwaho and all the people of their small village watched from the shore in a small cove just to the south of Atatarho’s rock. They could not be seen there by Atatarho and everyone from the big village. It would be dangerous if Atatarho or any of his warriors spotted them. He might give the order to attack them and they would be wiped out before the Peacemaker’s arrival.

Burnt Hair had scouted the big village the night before. He had seen all the warriors gather together. He had watched as they went by torchlight to follow their giant chief to the banks of the lake. Well before dawn, Atatarho and all his fighting men had gathered by the shore.

“I overheard,” Burnt Hair had told everyone, “Atatarho telling his people that he had used his mystical powers to foresee the arrival of a man who was pretending to be a messenger from the Creator.” Then Burnt Hair had laughed. “As usual, he was lying to his people. We all know why he knew the Peacemaker was coming.”

Indeed we do, Okwaho thought.

Word that the Peacemaker was coming had been brought to Atatarho by Carries. The Mohawk messenger had gone to tell the giant war chief that all the nations of the Longhouse People would be coming to him with the dawn.