Chapter 30: The Blood of the Bear
Among the Chatiks, as with other tribes who roamed the Ihkipaka grasslands, to kill one’s first bison was a rite of passage into manhood, and Kuruks was determined to get the kill. He knew the shape of the bison’s tracks, the smell of fresh dung, and now, just in the distance, he saw a large herd. There must have been twenty of them– mostly cows with several larger ones that could be clearly identified as bulls. He lifted his bow, aiming at the leg of the largest of the animals, closing one eye and feeling the wind on his face to ensure the proper trajectory. Once he was sure of his aim, he let go of the arrow. Sure enough, the sharp flint arrowhead pierced the thigh of the mighty beast, which began bucking wildly.
Immediately, he heard behind him the bellowing of a bison horn, and he knew the signal to charge. All men began shouting and making noise while racing towards the herd. All ran away, but the weakened bull ran behind. With the rest of the bison gone, the hunters surrounded the last remaining beast, shooting at its legs and torso to bring it to its knees. With the bison lying on the ground, Kuruks climbed down from his horse and removed another arrow from his quiver, aiming it squarely between the beast’s eyes.
He muttered a brief prayer and released the arrow. The great bull lay lifeless.
All of a sudden, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around towards the east, the direction of his camp. Smoke was rising toward the sky, more smoke than a hundred bonfires.
“Come on, let’s go, we’ll butcher the beast later! We need to get back there, now!”
Kuruks climbed back onto his horse and rode with the rest of the party towards the camp. As he got closer, he could hear horrible screaming and the soot-filled air forced its way into his nostrils. He could now see tipis burning, but before he could take in anything else going on, he heard a series of shouts in a language he did not understand and several loud blasts. The men riding at the front fell to the ground, while those just behind them rode back into the line, causing disorder among the hunting party. Armored men on decorated horses with shields and metal swords and long spears charged right at the fleeing men.
Kuruks broke from the formation and steered his horse around the onslaught. Looking at the village from the other side, he could confirm that everything he knew was burning to ash, even the grass itself being set ablaze. The bloodied corpses of women and children lay on the ground, while the survivors were crying out, held in metal chains.
As the last men of the hunting party were sliced and skewered, one of the strange men pointed at him, shouting once more in a language he did not know. As he attempted to ride away from the burning camp, he heard a loud bang, and suddenly his horse stopped and collapsed to the ground. Kuruks began to run away on-foot, but he could hear the galloping of hooves coming from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and the last thing he would see was a metal-tipped pike striking right between his eyes.
***
The Anishinabe threat was to be no more, and the Ihkipaka was being brought under the imperial boot once and for all. The people of his empire were happy, reaping the benefits of the new constitution that granted them a stake in their government for the past twenty years. And on an evening like this, all Maquah needed was to be able to sit safely in his throne room with his loving wife by his side.
A servant entered in a crimson robe carrying a small saucer with a small ceramic cup.
“Your highness,” he said, “I bring you your warm cup of wine before bed.”
“Thank you,” he said looking at the single cup, “but what about the empress?”
“Of course, your highness,” said the servant, handing Maquah the cup and saucer. “I shall bring you another cup shortly.”
The servant exited the throne room.
“It’s ok,” Wahpimohsa said. “I don’t need to drink right now.”
“Please, my love, I insist.”
“Well,” Wahpimohsa laughed, “I suppose if my emperor is telling me.”
Wahpimosa held the saucer and lifted the cup to her lips, taking a large sip. She then put it down on the small mahogany side table between the two thrones.
Just as Maquah was easing back into the cushions on his chair, he heard a gagging sound. He looked to his left, and suddenly Wahpimosa had fallen out of her chair and onto the floor, holding onto her own neck.
“My queen? Get the doctor, now!” he frantically shouted.
As Maquah knelt over his wife, she rolled over onto her back and began foaming at the mouth.
“Your highness, I have returned with you–”
The returning servant, seeing what was happening, dropped his dishware on the ground. They shattered immediately.
“No,” Maquah said crying, “Wahpimohsa, are you with me? Wake up!”
She choked one last time, and lay lifeless.
“NO!” Maquah shouted.
He lifted his head and looked around. He looked at the guards, and the butler, and then back at his wife. Someone wanted him dead, and like a fool, he had given the poison meant for himself for his wife.
All he could do now was avenge her, avenge both of them.
***
With the first elections in 1644, Maquah had implemented the first form of democratic governance in the history of the Great Kingdom. Just like Maquah had intended, this government insulated his power from any rebellion or challenger to the imperial throne. More importantly, while the sachems debated tax policy, currency, and licenses, Maquah was able to focus on what he considered to be “military matters”, and by “military matters”, he of course meant commit genocide.
The recent war with the Anishinabe and Dakota expanded the empire’s borders northward, and both in the new and existing former territories, there were large numbers of these “barbarian” people. During a pilgrimage to Makinak, Maquah declared the establishment of the new Makinawa province, including both sides of the strait of Makinak with its capital in the city of Makina. While this province was at the time mainly inhabited with Anishinabe, the locals were to all be killed, banished, or forcefully assimilated and spread throughout the empire, resulting in many children being sent to boarding schools in the southern provinces to become Misinized. New settlers moved in from all over the empire while the indigenous inhabitants would, over the decades, be wiped out. This process also took place in Pateota and elsewhere in the Machikato province, which had significant non-Ileni populations who would also be wiped out over the course of the coming decades.
In vengeance for the bloodshed, several plains bands of Dakota aligned together in 1655 to attack Misia’s eastern provinces, with raiding parties reaching as far east as the Mississippi. In 1656, with the increasing violence coming from the plains and with a burning desire to conquer the grasslands to avenge his brother’s death all those years ago, Maquah declared that the Lakota and Chatiks were both to be wiped out so that their lands may be redistributed to Misian farmers. This declaration would begin what would come to be known as the Ihkipaka Genocide.
Naturally, his actions would bring Maquah a number of enemies, including former aristocrats opposed to his political program as well as minorities and those sympathetic who opposed his genocidal actions. It is therefore unknown exactly who attempted to assassinate him in the autumn of 1664, but when his wife dropped dead from a poisoned cup of wine meant for him, he demanded vengeance and immediately had his butler and the entirety of the kitchen staff working that hour executed. Still, he remained unsatisfied. Just a month later, he ordered the imperial guard to hunt down the sons he had with the woman of his former harem and have their skulls brought to him. Throughout the next year and a half, he would become increasingly erratic, with witnesses claiming he frequently muttered to himself and broke down crying. He continuously executed more and more people on the palace grounds, and began to bring captives from his genocidal campaign of all genders into the palace to be castrated, abused, and tortured in a wide variety of other ways in front of his audiences. Although he had once been tempered, his maniacal nature had returned with a vengeance. The mad bear was out of hibernation. The question was who could stop him.
***
Like he did all those years ago, Maquah found peace in the palace gardens, among the flowers and fruits and herbs and vegetables and sunflower-covered hedges that shielded his favorite marble bench, exposed only to the sun. It was the first truly warm day of spring, and with the warm sun and light breeze that found its way through the maze onto his face, he peacefully enjoyed the weather, throwing seeds to the mourning doves at his feet. In the past, he would usually consume some of the seeds himself; these days he was hardly ever hungry. Either way, why would he even deserve the food? Would the birds kill his wife? The mourning doves don’t kill anyone. The mimiaki don’t kill anyone.
He shut his eyes and allowed his head to fall back, basking in the sun that beamed onto his face and warmed his black satin robes, reflecting on the golden lining.
All of a sudden, he heard someone step towards him. He immediately sprung up, dropping the bag of seeds and causing several of the doves to flap their wings and dash to the safety of the hedge. He pulled his jade dagger out of his belt, aiming it in the direction of the noise.
“Who is it? Who dares to sneak up on Maquah Kilsu?”
From behind the hedge his daughter stepped forward dressed in pale blue satin.
“I thought by now you would recognize my footsteps, father.”
“Mimia, my darling, my apologies.”
“I mean really, a dagger at your own child?”
“Mimia, I have a lot on my mind,” he said, sitting back down and placing the blade back into his belt.
“I suppose you do, now that half of the palace staff still needs to be replaced.”
She sat down on the bench next to him. A small smile came across the princess’s countenance, with eyes not unlike those of his late wife.
“The weather’s nice. I should join you at this spot more often.”
“I usually come here to get away from everything.”
“Away from what?”
“The people who want me dead, who want us dead, who wanted your mother dead.”
“Father, there have been no attempts on your life since. You will be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” Maquah said, “you don’t know all I have seen, all I have been through! Even those you trust the most can stab you in the back!”
Mimia stood up to walk away. Maquah calmed down, and took a breath.
“Wait,” he said standing up. “Mimia, please come back here. You’re the only one I trust.”
Mimia turned back towards her father and hugged him.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
“I love you, Mimia.”
Holding back tears, Mimia answered back:
“I love you too, father.”
Her hands made her way down her father’s back towards the golden handle of the dagger. She pulled it out of its black leather sheath and sunk it into her father’s back. She stepped back and looked at her father in his dry, widening eyes. There was shock, yes, but no pain or anger, simply relief, simply peace.
He collapsed onto the ground, and she held him on his knee. She kissed his forehead. The reign of madness was at an end.
