With a hiss like a great angry serpent, thick steam rose from the sizzling water. A while after it dissipated, Sukamek pulled out the iron blade from the trough of water and touched it to see if it was cool and hard like he wanted. He would still need to temper the metal a bit, as he recalled being taught, but he could already envision hafting this new creation to his old war club. Not even the mightiest Shaawanaki warrior would be able to withstand the piercing damage it could do, to say nothing of the many spearpoints and falcatas the Carthaginians had bestowed upon Sukamek’s people.
“You could trade that for something nice,” his friend Kawiya said from behind.
“The Carthaginians already have plenty of iron,” Sukamek replied. “What need would they have for this?”
“It’s not the blade they’d want, it’s what you attach it to. I know these Carthaginians like to collect items from other peoples they like the look of. ‘Exotic’ is the word they use. A lot of them would fancy a fine Inu’naabe club, with or without an iron blade.”
“Well, I was making this for my own club, anyway. But I can make another for you to trade them. I see you like going over to their big village, don’t you?”
Kawiya nodded with a grin. “To tell you the truth, it’s their women who’ve won me over the most, dark and kinky-haired creatures that they are. Have you seen the curves on their bodies?”
“Oh, you! As for me, I don’t tend to pay so much attention to women other than my Lilchpin. No one else, curves or no, can compare to her.”
Holding the blade by his tongs, Sukamek walked back to the mud furnace he had built and stuck it back in there to start the tempering process. The metal had begun to turn red again when the conch whistle blew, announcing that another party of visitors had come to the village.
This time, it was only the Carthaginians named Isceradin and Phameas who had arrived, and they did not come with the usual pots or trays of gifts. Nonetheless, Sukamek could not turn down another opportunity to wave and shout a greeting at his old friend.
“Much as I would like to stop by and say shalom, this is rather important,” Isceradin said. “I must speak with your sachem.”
Sukamek and his family followed and watched as the Carthaginians bowed before Sachem Amangi. In the time that had passed since the day of their first meeting, the sachem replaced his spear-staff’s flint head with the falcata Sukamek had gotten for him and adorned himself with gold and silver jewelry of African make. Such a degree of new bodily décor was what one would sooner expect from those vain and greedy High Sachems of the Shaawanaki, not a humbler leader among the Inu’naabe.
“O Sachem, I have a proposition our own Sachem sent us to offer you,” Isceradin said. “He says that he would like to make your people, the Inu’naabe, a protectorate of Carthage.”
Amangi gave him a blank stare. “What do you mean by ‘protectorate’?”
“He means, um, that we will place your people under our protection,” Phameas said. “Meaning our warriors will defend you as long as we can expect your loyalty and service in turn.”
“Oh, you mean an alliance! That would be the most generous offer. Though, you should understand, I am not a sachem of all the Inu’naape, only this village. Our people live in many villages around the land, each with their own sachem. We do not all follow one leader like the Shaawanaki to the east.”
“So, you are like the Greek cities,” Isceradin said. “Regardless, as I recall his wording, our sachem would like to place all your people, the Inu’naabe, under this protectorate he proposes. And, in addition to the conditions my companion here named, he would like to exact a certain amount of tribute from you on the regular.”
“Tribute? Do we not give you enough in trade?”
“That is…the thing. He demands more, as payment for protecting you.”
The sachem frowned. “How is that different from what the Shaawanaki want to do to us? They want to rule over our land too, like they do so many other peoples. I cannot accept that, and neither will the other Inu’naabe sachems.”
“You might want to reconsider,” Phameas said. “Because if you don’t, our ‘sachem’ wants to run you over with his army. And you should know by now how mighty our army is compared to yours!”
All the villagers watching the conversation gasped and exploded into frantic discussion among themselves.
“I knew these dark-faced ones could not be trusted!” Kawiya called out from the audience.
As much as Sukamek wanted to disagree with his friend, he himself could not believe what he had heard, after all the trust these strangers from across the sea had earned from him. As the closest ally either of these Carthaginians had among the Inu’naabe, he had to do something.
“Why does your sachem want to rule over us, Phameas?” Sukamek asked. “Why can we not be simple allies, helping one another on the same level? Is that not what we have been thus far?”
“Honestly, I agree,” Isceradin replied. “And, please, understand that we personally want no harm to come to your people whatsoever. But my sachem—or, I should say, my Sophet—truly desires the protectorate solution. If you want him to spare his wrath, as I do, then I implore you, please accept his terms.”
Silence hung over the space in front of the sachem’s wigwam. Both Isceradin and Phameas had lowered themselves to their knees in a begging posture, and Sukamek could see the wet gleam of sincerity in their eyes. None of the Inu’naabe, whether of this village or the whole nation, would want this to pass. But Sukamek had seen for himself the giant beasts these Carthaginians commanded, and everyone knew what damage their iron blades could inflict.
With a solemn sigh, Sachem Amangi nodded. “I will have to arrange a council with the other Inu’naabe sachems. I do not expect all will agree to what your ‘Sophet’ has to offer. But, for my part, I do not see how we have much choice. I, as sachem of this village, agree to his terms.”
Isceradin and Phameas both got up on their feet and bowed their heads to him. The former turned to face Sukamek and his family, giving him a manly embrace.
“I see your boy has grown over the summer,” Isceradin said.
“He has been eating well,” Sukamek said. “Maybe too well. If he keeps it up, he’ll be big as a bear when he becomes a man.”
Little Tatchen, who sat on his mother’s arms, pointed his finger at the forest on the other side of the river. “Father, who is that man looking at us from across the water?”
Sukamek’s eyes followed where his son was pointing. He did not see anything other than a few shaking bushes. “I don’t see anyone. Maybe you saw a deer.”
“But he was there. I saw him!”
“I think our meeting with your sachem has put your boy on edge,” Phameas said. “I don’t see anything either.”
“Me neither, but there could still be something out there,” Isceradin said. “You might want to scout over there to make sure.”
“I will track them down tomorrow,” Sukamek responded, “It is getting late, and I have smithing work to finish. Lapich knewel, my friends.”
As the two Carthaginians made their way back to the trail connecting the village with their own settlement, Sukamek stared at the forest across the river again. If there was someone out there spying on them, who could it be?
He hoped it was not whom he most suspected.