Is it time?

That summer, I had two loves. The legend of King Arthur and money.  

The first was easy. My mom had secured a copy of “The Great Book of King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table” from the library. The book was easily over 600 pages, and weighed about half my body weight. The stories would be sure to keep me entertained on those rainy cottage days. If the reading didn’t make me tired, lugging the book around would. 

My head was swimming with the adventures of King Arthur! 

Arthur had Merlin, I had my little brother. 
Arthur relied upon his trusty steed Llamrai, I had my sturdy rowboat. 
Arthur’s favorite dog, Cavall, helped him in the hunt. I had Daisy the poodle. 
Arthur faced malevolent forces, I was in a similar battle, against boredom, 

On the not rainy days, the bright beautiful days of summer, I had a different plan. Money! The summer before my cousin had found an arrow head washed up along the shore. Being older and wiser, he had it appraised and sold it to an antiques dealer for a whole $9. Money for nothing! 

So I planned to be nose in a book and eyes on the ground. I would be rich in stories and the wallet. It was going to be a good summer!

I had been reading over the winter, about the War of 1812. Basically, the Americans wanted more land. Burger Kings and Walmarts as far as the eye can see! That was the American’s plan and they got it in their heads, that God wanted this for them. Manifest Destiny y'all. So the Americans kept creeping up across the border and terrorizing people.  

All sorts of heroics were happening. Some lady named Laura Secord heard their plans and invented a bunch of chocolate, turning the tides. Issac Brock and his horse Alfred came running around rousing the Canadians to head down and burn down the White House. Things were very historical. 

But the best part of the whole war, the part that gave me goosebumps, was a man named Tecumseh. Tecumseh was a Shawnee Chief, a leader of a First Nations confederacy, a totally brilliant military hero in the War of 1812. While the Americans were mumbling about Manifest Destiny, Tecumseh was rolling out dis tracks like this “Our lives are in the hands of the Great Spirit, we are determined to defend our lands, and if it is His will, we wish to leave our bones upon them”. 

Bone chilling stuff!  That kinda stuff was popping up on American Social Media and just sending shivers down their spines. Tecumseh was the man who meant business! He wasn’t to be messed with. The Americans were super terrified of Tecumseh. He was more than a great orator, he was a great war-ator. Throughout the war, Tecumseh bravely led his troops into battle, adroitly outmaneuvering superior numbers time and time again. 

The Americans would be chasing the British. Bam! Bam! Killing the Generals in their red coats. When suddenly, Tecumseh and his men would step out from behind a tree, and HIYA! Change the course of the battle. Tecumseh and his men could seemingly step out from behind a rock, some grass or just pop out of a marsh. One never knew where they would show up. The Americans were terrified, and rightly so. They should have stayed at home! 

No one seemed to be able to predict where Tecumseh and his men would pop up next. 

Brock had been killed. Americans were feeling pretty good about themselves. They put Tecumseh in their sights next. The war was theirs to win. Canada would soon fall to their greasy hands. Good-bye poutine, hello Freedom Fries. 

Well, Tecumseh and his warriors had captured a number of American forts, and with them, they gathered what passed as American intelligence. Hastily drawn plans on McDonald’s napkins, Burn books with cruel comments about Canadians. Crude crayon drawings meant to show troop movements. Tecumseh was clever, and he was able to decipher these clues. He knew where the Americans would strike next. 

It so happened, that spot was right where I now stood!  Nipissing Village. 

So the story goes… Tecumseh and his warriors gathered around him in the woods along a creek. The Americans were set to come down this creek, access the river and attack Toronto from the North. Toronto was going to burn! Regardless, how you feel about Toronto, whether burning was an improvement or not, it was more the audacity that the Americans would dare commit this atrocity North of the 49. Nope, eh!  

Tecumseh and his men began to set up their welcome party for the Americans. Loads and loads of arrowheads were amassed at the site, bows were strung with new string, and scouts were sent to give early warning of the American’s arrival. 

As the first American came into view, Tecumseh’s men silently and stealthy ran down the relay passing the news along. As word reached Tecumseh’s main force, arrows were notched, breaths were held, fingers were crossed. 

When the Americans reached the main force, Tecumseh’s warriors unleashed hell. Arrows silently flew through the air, air that was soon filled with the screams of dying men. 

The Americans were terrified of Tecumseh, and quickly made him the main target of their bullets. Volley after volley were fired at the hero. Undaunted, our hero ran straight for the American forces, yelling bravely to rally his troops. The Americans fired their muskets in a single volley. BAM! 

From the American vantage, they witnessed a single bullet striking Tecumseh in the chest. Scarlet drop of blood flew out of his chest, as he stumbled back, caught his footing, and ran forward again.  Smoke from the black powder clouded the air. Visibility was zero. A total black out. 

As the smoke cleared, the Americans expected to see Tecumseh bleeding out on the ground. 

But they say nothing. Tecumseh and all his warriors were gone. 

Now the story the Shawnee tell is that as Tecumseh fell, his warriors caught him on their shields and carried him off.  They buried him with great honour. The location is a secret to all outside of the Shawnee Nation. The story goes that Tecumseh and his warriors lay in wait for when their country needed them again. When the time is right, Tecumseh and all his warriors of the Shawnee nation will rise up and drive the Americans off our land.  Total King Arthur vibes!  

The way it was told in school was that the Shawnee Nation were slaughtered by the American troops. Blood was shed, the ground soaked crimson as volley after volley of American bullets cut the warriors down. Arrowheads barely stood a chance against American bullets. 

Heavy stuff indeed. 

But the good news? All this violence and slaughter left behind tons of arrowheads! Which went along very well with my plan to get rich.  

Each morning, my little brother, Daisy and myself would load into the tiny rowboat, and set off in search of murderous treasures. 

Arthur had Merlin, I had my little brother. 
Arthur relied upon his trusty steed Llamrai, I had my sturdy rowboat. 
Arthur’s favorite dog, Cavall, helped him in the hunt. I had Daisy the poodle. 

Finding the arrowheads was easy. We followed the shoreline, and gathered as many as we could in pails, plastic bags and pockets. Each night we would return home, sort and categorize our treasures. I kept my brother up at night reading with the aid of a flashlight the tales of Arthur and his knights.  

Each day, we would head out, feeling braver than ever, inflated with the tales of the Round Table. This sense of bravado  brought us further and further from home each day. Each day we ventured further, we were rewarded with more and more treasures. The arrow heads were getting more dense, we could barely take a step without finding one. We were getting rich!  

We were careful to stick along the river, the woods were filled with bears, cougars and all sorts of unsavory folks. Our proximity to the river meant we had quick access to our rowboat, who just like Llamas would lead us to safety. 

Eyes peeled to the ground, Daisy running about, barking happily. I was so engaged in the  hunt for treasure, that I had wanded deeper into the woods and further from the boat. 
I guess that’s the thing about getting lost. It must be a slow process, but you only suddenly realize it.  I was lost. When I finally peeled my eyes off the ground, Daisy wasn’t about, my brother was nowhere to be found. 

I continued to walk, but rather than eyes on the ground seeking treasure, my eyes scanning my surroundings, looking for anything familiar. 

Instead of anything familiar, my eyes fell upon a cave. The kind of cave that might be filled with something awesome, or the kind of cave that might be filled with something really not awesome. Like a bear. Or many bears. I would much rather have fled than fought, but the thought crossed my mind that if the cave was filled with bears, they might have my brother. Should I return home without him… well, my Mother would have been most displeased. I doubt she would have let me even have his stuff. 

So, I went to the cave. Fingers crossed, hoping for a cave filled with awesome, and not bears.  

As I entered the cave, I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust.  As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, I saw leaning up against the side of the cave, a whole arrow. Shaft, feathers, arrow head. The whole deal. If an arrow head was going for $9 a pop, an entire arrow was going to make me rich!  

This was definitely an awesome cave of awesome! 

As my spirits rose, thoughts of cash danced in my head, and my eyes further adjusted to the darkness, I saw an entire quiver of arrows just ahead of me. As I ran towards them, I noticed an ancient tomahawk and a bow as well!  

Only problem was, the tomahawk and the bow were both firmly gripped in the grapes of a man, laying flat on his back. Arms crossed over his chest. The man was clad in beaded buskin. Braided hair resting on his shoulders. Now, I knew a thing or two about dead folks and folks that weren’t dead, thanks to my neighbour Howard, and when I looked carefully upon this man, he was decidedly not dead.  I saw his chest raise up and down every so slightly as he took slow, shallow breaths. 

As my eyes further adjusted to the darkness, I saw the man wasn’t alone.  All deep down through the cave, there were men dressed in buckskin, holding bows and muskets. All laying on their backs. 

I decided this wasn’t a party I was interested in crashing. Very carefully I began to back away. One foot, then the other. I never took my eyes off the sleeping warriors. 

Which was a mistake. Because I didn’t see the tiniest pebble laying behind me. Which rolled under my foot and caused me to fall backwards. Which was already fairly cringey, but of course as I fell, my elbow went back and banged onto a drum. The kinda drum that’s just absolutely huge, made of animal hide stretched over a tree trunk. The kind of drum decorated in ermine pelts and feathers. Yeah, the kind of drum that when struck in a deep dark cave, absolutely resonates and bounces off the walls, ringing a rallying cry out to the warriors sleeping in the dark. 

And that’s exactly what happened.  

As the Booom of the drum echoed off the cave walls, the first warrior sat up. Just all slow like, and majestic. Hey It's right up, arms still crossed. Slowly pulling his body up to a sitting position, he ever so slowly and dramatically turns his face towards me.

Eyes locked on me. 

He says “Is it time?”

I responded “No, it is not. Continue to sleep”

Which he did. The man lay down. I forgot all about my arrowheads and ran away from the cave. I kept running, straight downhill to the creek. I ran all along the creek until I ran into my brother and Daisy, both waiting by the boat.  

“Find something cool,” he asked. 

“Not yet” I said. “Not yet”