The Emerald Key

CHAPTER 8





Jamie luxuriated in his cozy cocoon of warm animal skins, but he simply couldn’t fall asleep. Colin was curled up at his feet and covered as well in warm skins to help keep away the cool night air. Jamie was no longer worried about the young boy’s health. Colin was already showing more curiosity and energy earlier in the evening as he explored the interior of the longhouse. Tutuyak’s delicious syrup had done its job and brought Colin back to good health.

It was Ryan who weighed heavily on his racing thoughts. Was his brother hurt or sick? Did he still have the text? Had he died in the crossing? All the answers lay far away in a town named Montreal. He still had no clue as to the location of Tutuyak’s village in relation to the rest of Canada East, the part of Canada that contained the cities of Quebec and Montreal. All of his maps had gone down with the coffin to the bottom of the St. Lawrence River. He fought the panic of being lost in an endless foreign land and trusted that both God and his newfound friend would help him find direction once again.

Finally, the sun lit up the early morning mist. Jamie jumped when he suddenly heard a loud snort come from just outside the doorway. Could it be a bear or moose prowling outside the longhouse? He had yet to see such creatures first-hand, but did not doubt the tales of their dangerous nature. He grabbed a long wooden pole from the floor and warily approached the doorframe. As he peeked outside, a large, flaring nostril sprayed him with a cloud of steam. Jamie jumped in surprise and banged his head on the frame of the door.

Tutuyak laughed. “Be careful. Your hard head might break our longhouse.”

Jamie rubbed his head and smiled back at Tutuyak, mounted high up on a horse. “I think my head is going to break long before your longhouse.”

Tutuyak was straddling a beautiful brown and white stallion. Its dark chestnut eyes stared at Jamie suspiciously. He stomped his hoof, and Tutuyak pulled back on the reins.

“Steady, Dreamer,” she cooed. “Don’t worry. He’s a friend.”

“You talk to your horse?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

Jamie scratched his head. “Actually, I’ve never had the chance to get to know a horse before. Where I come from, only the wealthy can afford them. But yours is the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen. Do all women in Canada ride a horse like you?”

Tutuyak was straddling her horse wearing a pair of woollen pants, riding boots, and a loose cotton blouse. “I don’t know about others, but this is the way I ride them. Why do you ask?”

“Because the women I’ve seen riding horses in Ireland wear skirts and ride side-saddle, with both legs on one side of the horse.”

“As I see them riding in your towns down by the river,” she said, understanding. “Then your women don’t know how to ride a horse properly. How could you possibly gallop side-saddle?”

Jamie smiled. “That’s a good point. Should I go wake up Colin?”

She nodded. “I have permission from the elders to take you to Quebec City. It is a day’s ride from here. That is the best place to go if you and Colin want to get to Montreal as quickly as possible.”

“We’ll do our best to keep up with you and your horse,” answered Jamie, hoping that Colin would be up for walking such a long distance.

Tutuyak smiled and put two fingers in her mouth. She blasted out a short whistle. A muscular mare with a flaming auburn coat, saddled and ready to go, trotted around the corner of the longhouse and pulled up next to Dreamer..

Jamie was awed. “How did you do that?”

“I train them. It’s part of what I do for my village.”

“A woman of many talents,” he said. “Very impressive. And what’s her name?”

“Falcon.”

Jamie eyed the horse. “Falcon, eh? Does she eat meat? Should I keep my distance?”

She sadly shook her head. “And I thought you were a well-educated boy. She’s named Falcon because of her speed.”

“That’s good to know.” He smiled as he walked up to the horse and let her sniff his hand. “So Falcon, do you really like to fly? Well, please take it easy on me. We Irish break easily.”

Tutuyak threw back her long hair. “We’d better go.”

Jamie grinned with excitement. “I’ll go get Colin.”


The village of Wendake, Tutuyak’s village, looked quite different from the Irish sod and thatch-roofed homes with which Jamie was familiar. Most of these buildings were either built of log or clapboard. Jamie assumed that so many houses were made of sturdy wood because of the fact that Canada was brimming with huge forests. With their Irish forests already plundered, the peasants of Ireland did not have the luxury of lumber and had to build their homes from the only materials that they could find: sod from the peat bogs for the walls and the fields of hay for the thatched roof.

Tutuyak kept Colin in her lap while Jamie trotted close behind on Falcon. Wendake, she explained, was named after Tutuyak’s ancestral land that once stood on the shores of Georgian Bay in Canada West. Those who were out chopping logs or tending to the plots of vegetables behind their homes looked up and smiled at her as she passed, some even shared a comment or two with her in a language Jamie did not understand. Those, however, who glanced at Jamie, eyed him with silent suspicion. He couldn’t blame them. Hadn’t he eyed the English back in Ireland with the same prejudiced stare? European strangers had taken their land and inflicted them with disease. It was Ireland all over again, wasn’t it? What other welcome could he possibly expect? All he could do was nod a humble thank-you in French.

Soon, they left the village and trees once again curtained the sky above the dirt road. Tutuyak leaned forward and whispered something to Colin, then she suddenly whooped and kicked Dreamer in the ribs. The stallion launched into a blurring gallop. Jamie was nearly thrown from the saddle as Falcon lowered her head and launched herself forward to keep pace. Terrified, Jamie did everything in his power to keep from falling off the galloping mare. Breathing hard, the two horses flew through the emerald tunnel of vegetation. It slowly dawned on Jamie that there was a recognizable rhythm to the horse’s gallop. His legs started to match the bouncing by raising himself up in the stirrups with each beat of the hooves. He hunched his shoulders like Tutuyak and leaned forward. The wind whistled past his cheeks. Jamie could see why the horse was named Falcon. He felt as if he were flying low to the ground like an iron ball just launched from a cannon. For just a moment, he forgot all of his troubles, tilted back his head, and enjoyed the ride.

They galloped the horses hard until the forest finally began to thin. Tutuyak reined in Dreamer and the snorting horses slowed once again to a bouncy trot. Jamie couldn’t stop grinning. He gave Falcon a good pat on her sweaty neck.

“Thanks for the ride of a lifetime, girl.”

Jamie took a deep breath to clear his head then took in his new surroundings. On either side of the path, small plots of land had been hacked out of the pristine forest. Tiny one-room log cabins had been erected in a corner of each plot. Summer gardens were growing in the tilled fields. Jamie had no doubt that these were newly arrived settlers. The homes resembled the tiny farmhouses that littered the Irish countryside, except they were made of wood instead of sod or stone.

Tutuyak pulled up next to Jamie. Colin, sitting in her lap, was smiling from ear to ear. Jamie reached over and poked him.

“I take it you enjoyed the galloping.”

“Can we do that again, Tutuyak?’ Colin asked, looking up. Jamie translated.

“The horses need a rest now,” she explained. “And the road will get busier as we get closer to Quebec. Sorry, Colin. No more galloping.”

They passed several more farms. These were larger and more established. Women were in the field, either pulling out weeds or planting late seeds. Men were busy splitting wood for the coming winter. As they passed, some of them stopped their work to stare at them as they trotted past.

“Why are they staring at us?” asked Jamie.

“Because we are riding together,” she explained. “An Irish man and a Native woman are rarely seen together. There is a tradition of French men and Native women marrying, especially further north along the trading routes. Their descendants are called Métis. But you are obviously Irish, and I have an Irish child on my lap. They are trying to understand why we are together.”

“Do they think we are married?” asked Jamie.

Tutuyak looked to him, questioningly. “Possibly. Why? Does that bother you?”

He smiled. “Actually, I barely know you, but from what I’ve experienced so far, you’re the first woman I’ve ever met that I’d consider marrying.”

Surprised, she blushed, then smiled. “Sorry, Jamie. You’re too young for me … and I’m not leaving Canada to live a life with you in Ireland.”

At the next farm, Jamie waved and shouted at the staring woodchopper, “Bonjour! Comment allez-vous? Isn’t my wife beautiful?”

Confused, the farmer shook his head and went back to work.

She shoved him, laughing. “Stop it! They know me.”

Several children were working with a dark-haired woman in the next field. The children all had flaming red hair and freckles.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say those kids were Irish.”

“They are,” she confirmed.

“But I read that once the Irish arrive in Canada, most settlers move either to Canada West or travel south to the United States.”

“I believe you are right. But those children are likely orphans, like Colin.”

“You mean they’ve been adopted?”

“Not necessarily. I understand that the French and the Irish share a common religion.”

“We do. We’re both Catholic.”

“I heard that the French Catholic church is helping to find shelter for the Irish orphans that have recently arrived in Canada. Many end up as workers on farms and then after some time, they are adopted into the families themselves.”

“That makes sense. At least the children will have some place to call home.”

“Perhaps the same will happen for Colin,” she suggested.

“I hope not,” replied Jamie. “He has an extended family living on a farm in Canada West.”

“Are they meeting you in Montreal as well?”

He shook his head. “No. I haven’t figured out that part yet.”

Wagons full of summer hay, carts carrying fresh produce, and walking travellers were joining them on the dirt road. Jamie, Tutuyak, and Colin continued to get stares from the passersby, but Jamie didn’t notice. He was preoccupied with figuring out the next step of their journey. His thoughts were suddenly broken by a tug on his pant leg.

He looked down in surprise at a girl, perhaps eleven or twelve, jogging alongside his horse. She had her wild ginger hair tied back in a loose ponytail, and her ghostly grey eyes seemed to stare straight through him.

“You’re Irish, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” he offered.

“Are you going to Quebec?”

“Yes again.”

“I could use a ride into town if you would be so kind.”

Jamie eyed the girl. “You’re being quite presumptuous, assuming I would even offer you a ride. In fact, I don’t even own this horse.”

“But I can help you if you give me a ride!” she panted, trying to keep pace.

“And why do you think that I need help?”

The girl, out of breath, slowed to a stop and watched the horse trot off. “Because you are a member of the Brotherhood! You must be lost because why else would someone from the Brotherhood be out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Jamie pulled back on the reins and Falcon came to an abrupt stop. Tutuyak brought the stallion around in a sharp turn in order to see what had happened. Jamie narrowed his eyes and stared at the girl who jogged up to him with surprising confidence.

“What did you just say?”

“You are a member of the Brotherhood, aren’t you?”

“Why would you say that?”

She looked at him slyly. “Give me a ride and I’ll tell you.”

The conversation with the young girl was happening in English so Tutuyak looked to Jamie for an explanation. He sighed and explained. “Somehow, this girl knows something about who I am back in Ireland. She won’t explain herself unless I give her a ride into Quebec. Is that all right if she rides on Falcon with me?”

Tutuyak smiled at the wild-eyed girl, probably appreciating her precociousness as did Jamie. “I’m sure Falcon wouldn’t mind. Tell her to hop on.”

Jamie nodded to the back of his horse. A big smile flashed across the young girl’s face as he held out a hand and gave her a swing up. Tutuyak and Jamie coaxed their horses forward while Jamie took a deep breath in vexation. First, he’d promised to look after a lad barely out of diapers and now a young girl was hanging on to his waist. What was he, the Pied Piper of Hamlin?

“This will be a very short ride for you if I don’t quickly hear answers to my questions,” commanded Jamie. “Understood?”

“All right,” she said.

“First, what’s your name?”

“Bethany Fitzgerald, but you can call me Beth,” she said rapidly. “My parents called me Bethany, but I always preferred the sound of Beth. It just has a better ring to it, don’t you think? All my friends call me Beth and I know if I ever have children, I’ll let them call themselves any name—”

“Whoa! Stop!” shouted Jamie. Lord, this one is a talker. “Bethany, I mean Beth, keep the answers simple or again, this will be a very short ride for you.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. My parents always said that I ran on at the mouth and it’s something of a bad habit that I’ve been working very hard to improve. I’ll do my best not to say more than I have to, but my Aunt Sinead always said it’s important to answer questions accurately, so I will try to—”

“Beth!”

“Sorry.”

“Let’s talk about the Brotherhood. What made you mention that?”

“Oh, you see, I’m very observant, at least that’s what my mother always said to me, and I noticed that your fourth finger had the ring of the Brotherhood.”

He looked back, surprised. “How are you familiar with my ring?”

“Well, my uncle Patrick had a ring just like it back in Ireland, and sometimes he would have these meetings at our farmhouse.”

“Patrick Fitzgerald,” muttered Jamie. “In Longford?”

“Yes! That’s my uncle, and our home is in Longford! I wasn’t supposed to listen in on the meetings. I was supposed to be asleep. But my bedroom was right next to where the meetings took place and sometimes I would hear the word “Brotherhood” being used. Then I noticed that the men at the meetings all wore the same rings. I notice things like that. My mother always said that I’m very observant.”

“Yes, you already said that,” sighed Jamie. “So what did your keen hearing and observations tell you about the Brotherhood?”

“I don’t know, really. They mentioned ways of helping the poor a lot and many funny words I didn’t recognize. It was almost like they made up the words. Or maybe the words were some sort of secret code. Maybe they had made up their own language! Wouldn’t that be amazing, being able to speak a language that no one else could understand? Just think of …”

“Should I let you off right now?” Jamie groaned.

“Sorry.”

“Where are your parents?”

“They died on the crossing.”

Jamie paused, his exasperation suddenly fading. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m an orphan.”

“So am I. And so is Colin, the boy on the other horse.”

“And who is she? She’s so pretty. I wish I could have long, straight black hair like her. I really hate my hair. It’s so curly, it’s like a bird’s nest. At least that’s what my mother always said. If I had a choice, I’d …”

“That’s Tutuyak,” interrupted Jamie. “She saved Colin and me from drowning and now she’s helping us get to Quebec.”

“Quebec? That’s where I’m going!”

“I know! You’ve already told me. Why are you going there?”

She hesitated, looking at Jamie, deciding whether she could trust him. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“I’m running away.”

“Why?”

“Two months ago I was taken from an orphanage in Montreal by Monsieur and Madame Viette. They wanted me to help them with their farm. We took a ship back to here, and I was expected to work all day long in and around the farm without any sleep! The farmer’s wife, Madame Viette, was really mean to me. She would make me rest on the manure pile at night to keep warm and beat me with a willow stick if I didn’t work my fingers to the bone! Here, look at my side.”

She hoisted up the side of her blouse. Nasty red welts crisscrossed her side and ribs.

Jamie winced. “That looks painful.”

“That willow stick sure hurts. I think they beat me because they lost two sons in the rebellion against the British lords a few years ago. I’m not British, I’m Irish, but I don’t think they understand the difference.”

Jamie looked over his shoulder, shocked by what he had just heard. “What did you say? The people of Canada tried to rebel against British rule?”

She shrugged. “From what I heard, both Canada East and West tried to rebel. I don’t think it went very well. After all, the British are still in charge here, aren’t they?”

“I didn’t hear about any rebellions in my readings,” Jamie muttered.

“I think my adopted parents hated me because I speak English. They also wanted a boy. I know they did, but Father McGivney gave them me. Boys are harder to get, you know. Everyone thinks that they are better workers, although I tend to disagree. They may be stronger, but I’ve noticed they often lack the dedication.”

“Did anyone know you were being beaten?”

“No. We lived in the woods by ourselves. I’m sure Father McGivney didn’t know that they were going to be so mean to me when he gave me to them. I know lots of other orphans that were taken in by caring families. I wish I could have been one of them.…”

“Wait … do you know Montreal?”

She nodded. “Of course. I stayed in Montreal for almost a year before being sent off to the Viette farm.”

“And do you know the city streets? Buildings? Everything?”

“Oh yes. I’m very good with directions, at least that’s what Father McGivney said. He sent me out on lots of errands around the city before I was adopted. Did you know that Montreal was built on an island? There is water going all the way around it! I think an island is a very silly place to build a city if you ask me. If I were to build a city, I would—”

Jamie interrupted. “Beth Fitzgerald. How would you like to come to Montreal with us? I’ve lost all of my maps and I think a knowledgeable guide might come in handy.”

Her eyes lit up. “Montreal? Really? With you? But that’s where the orphanage is. Someone might recognize me.”

“Well, if you know the city so well, you should be able to stay far away from the orphanage.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “And I think the further away I get from my adopted family, the less likely it will be for them to ever find me again. Montreal is so much bigger than Quebec. It has lots of stores and roads as well as places to hide. Did you know that Montreal is as far as you can sail down the St. Lawrence River, because just after the city there is a large set of rapids and …”

This time Jamie didn’t try and stop her ramblings for his mind was already swimming in thought. Jamie started to feel more positive about what he first imagined to be an impossible task. He finally felt that he might have a shot at finding his brother and the lost text.