The man—who obviously was the village's chief, governor, lord, or however the savages termed him—wore a buckskin loincloth that barely covered his genitalia. That, however, was by now a commonplace. What so shocked Matthew was that the chief had a long, white, tightly curled judicial wig on his head, and his chest was covered by...
I'm dreaming! Matthew thought. I have to be insensible to imagine this!
... Magistrate Woodward's gold-striped waistcoat.
'Pata ne.' The doctor motioned Matthew and Rachel into the circle, and then made gestures for them to sit. 'Oha! Oha!'
Rachel obeyed. When Matthew started to lower himself, pain stabbed his ribs and he clutched at the clay bandage, his face tightening.
'Uh!' the chief spoke. He had the long-jawed, narrow face and wore circular blue tattoos on both cheeks, more tattoos trailing down his arms, like blue vines, and covering his hands. The tips of his fingers were dyed red. 'Se na oha! Pah ke ne su na oha sau-papa!' His commanding voice instantly stirred the doctor to action, namely that of grasping Matthew's right arm and pulling him up straight. When Rachel saw, she thought the chief wanted her to rise as well, but as she began to stand she was pushed down again—rather firmly—by the doctor.
The chief stood up on his dais. His legs were tattooed from the knees to the bare feet. He put his hands on his hips, his deep-set black eyes fixed on Matthew, and his expression serious as demanded his position of authority. 'Te te weya, ' he said. The doctor retreated, walking backward, and left the hut. The next words were directed at Matthew: 'Urn ta ka pa pe ne?'
Matthew simply shook his head. He saw that the chief wore Woodward's prized waistcoat unbuttoned, and more tattoos adorned his chest. Though age was difficult to estimate among these foreign people, Matthew thought the chief was a young man, possibly only five or six years older than himself.
'Oum?' the chief asked, frowning. 'Ka taynay calmet?'
Again, Matthew could only shake his head.
The chief looked down at the ground for a moment, and crossed his arms over his chest. He sighed and seemed lost in thought; deliberating, Matthew feared, how best to murder his captives.
Then the chief lifted his gaze again and said, 'Quel chapeau portez-vous?'
Matthew now almost fell down. The Indian had spoken French. A bizarre question, yes, but French all the same. The question had been: 'What hat do you wear?'
Matthew had to steady himself. That this tattooed savage could speak a classic European language boggled the mind. It was such a jolt that Matthew even forgot for a few seconds that he was standing there totally naked. He replied, 'Je ne porte pas de chapeau.' Meaning 'I don't wear a hat.'
'Ah ah!' The chief offered a genuine smile that served to further light and warm the chamber. He clapped his hands together, as if equally amazed and delighted at Matthew's understanding of the language. 'Tous les hommes portent des chapeaux. Mon chapeau est Nawpawpay. Quel chapeau portez-vous?'
Matthew now understood. The chief had said, 'All men wear hats. My hat is Nawpawpay. What hat do you wear?'
'Oh, ' Matthew said, nodding. 'Mon chapeau est Mathieu.'
'Mathieu, ' Nawpawpay repeated, as if testing its weight on his tongue. 'Mathieu... Matthew, ' he said, still speaking French. 'That is a strange hat.'
'Possibly it is, but it's the hat I was given at birth.'
'Ah! But you've been reborn now, and so you must be given a new hat. I myself will give it to you: Demon Slayer.'
'Demon Slayer? I don't understand.' He glanced down at Rachel, who—not having a grasp of French—was totally confounded at what they were saying.
'Did you not slay the demon that almost took your life? The demon that has roamed this land for... oh... only the dead souls know, my father among them. I can't say how many brothers and sisters have passed away by those claws and fangs. But we tried to slay that beast. Yes, we tried.' He nodded, his expression grave again. 'And when we tried, the demon worked its evil on us. For every arrow that was shot into its body, it delivered ten curses. Our male infants died, our crops withered, the fishing was poor, and our seers had dreams of the end of time. So we stopped trying, for our own lives. Then everything got better, but the beast was always hungry. You see? None of us could slay it. The forest demons look after their own kind.'
'But the beast still lives, ' Matthew said.
'No! I was told how the hunters saw you travelling, and followed you. Then the beast struck! I was told how it attacked you, and how you stood before it and gave a mighty war cry. That must have been a sight to see! They said it was hurt. I sent some men. They found it, dead in its den.'
'Oh, I see. But... it was old and tired. I think it was already dying.'
Nawpawpay shrugged. 'That may be so, Matthew, but who struck the last blow? They found your knife, still under here.' He pressed beneath his own chin with a forefinger. 'Ah, if it's the forest demons that concern you, you may rest knowing they only haunt our kind. Your kind frightens them.'
'Of that I have no doubt, ' Matthew said.
Rachel could stand it no longer. 'Matthew! What's he saying?'
'They found the bear dead and they believe I killed it. He's given me a new name: Demon Slayer.'
'Is it French you're speaking?'
'Yes, it is. I have no idea how—'
'An interruption, my pardon, ' Nawpawpay said. 'How is it you come to know King LaPierre's tongue?'
Matthew shifted his thinking from English back to French once more. 'King LaPierre?'
'Yes, from the kingdom of Franz Europay. Are you a member of his tribe?'
'No, I'm not.'
'But you've had some word from him?' It was said with eagerness. 'When will he return to this land?'
'Um... well... I'm not certain, ' Matthew said. 'When was he last here?'
'Oh, during my grandfather's father's time. He left his tongue with my family, as he said it was the tongue of kings. Do I speak it well?'
'Yes, very well.'
'Ah!' Nawpawpay beamed like a little boy. 'I do recite it, so as not to lose its taste. King LaPierre showed us sticks that shot fire, and he caught our faces in a pouch pond. And... he had a little moon that sang. All these are carved down on the tablet.'
He frowned, perplexed. 'I do wish he would return, so I might see those wonders as my grandfather's father did. I feel I'm missing something. You're not of his family? Then how do you speak the king's tongue?'
'I learned it from a member of King LaPierre's tribe, ' Matthew decided to say.
'I see now! Someday... someday...' He lifted a finger for emphasis. 'I shall go over the water in a cloudboat to Franz Europay. I shall walk in that village and see for myself the hut of King LaPierre. It must be a grand place, with a hundred pigs!'
'Matthew!' Rachel said, about to go mad from this conversation of which she could not partake. 'What is he saying?'
'Your woman, sad to say, is not civilized like you and I, ' Nawpawpay ventured. 'She speaks mud words like that white fish we caught.'
'White fish?' Matthew asked. He motioned for Rachel to remain quiet. 'What white fish?'
'Oh, he's nothing. Less than nothing, for he's a murderer and thief. The least civilized beast I have ever had the misfortune to look upon. Now: can you tell me anything more of the village of Franz Europay?'
'I'll tell you everything I know of that place, ' Matthew answered, 'if you'll tell me about the white fish. Did you... find your present clothing... and your headdress, at his hut?'
'These? Yes. Are they not wonderful?' He spread his arms wide, grinning, so as to better display the gold- striped waistcoat.
'May I ask what else you found there?'
'Other things. They must have some use, but I just like to look at them. And... of course... I found my woman.'
'Your woman?'
'Yes, my bride. My princess.' His grin now threatened to slice his face in two. 'The silent and lovely one. Oh,
