Prologue:
"The Harlequinade. Ancestor of the English pantomime. Six characters. Garish, grotesque. First brought to life three centuries ago by the clowns and the actors of the Italian fairgrounds. Today, mere costumed characters at a masked ball. Where now their mystery, their magic, their comedy…their tragedy?"
~Opening quote by Hercule Poirot in "Poirot: The Affair at the Victory Ball".~
Albany, August 1757
"Oh Cora, I truly shan't sleep tonight! What an adventure! I absolutely cannot wait to return to Portman Square, having been to the wilderness!"
Nearly repeating verbatim what she had said at tea that afternoon in the garden, an excited Alice Munro removed a gown from the closet and flashed a brilliant smile at her sister. In the bedroom they were sharing at the Patroon's house in Albany, Cora Munro glanced away from the extra shifts she was placing in her portmanteau to return Alice's smile with a weary one of her own as the two prepared for their journey to Fort William Henry the following morning.
At twenty four, Cora was a vivacious beauty. Having inherited her father's dark brown hair and feisty spirit, along with her paternal grandmother's delicate features and lovely dark brown eyes, she always captured the attention of every man who met her. Although none as yet had captured hers. With their father often absent due to his military duties, which he buried himself in after his beloved wife died six years after Alice was born, Cora had become a mother figure to her younger sister, even though she herself was still but a girl at the time.
As for eighteen year old Alice, a beauty in her own right, she had grown to resemble her mother in both appearance and personality. Effervescent and full of life, with a wonderful sense of humor and wit, her dark blond hair was enhanced by her hazel eyes, which were a combination of brown mixed with green. From their mother, both sisters had inherited a flawless pale beige skin tone that would tan to a rich golden brown if allowed to be exposed to the sun.
With all her heart Cora wished she could share her younger sibling's enthusiasm for their upcoming trip to Fort William Henry. But too much weighed heavily on Cora's mind, most notably a proposal of marriage put before her during tea by her and Alice's dearest and closest friend, Major Duncan Heyward. That proposal overshadowed any anticipation she had previously felt for the trip. Once they arrived at the fort, she knew Duncan would enlist the aid of her father in persuading her to say yes, as the colonel was in favor of a marriage between the two. With a sigh, Cora tucked several loose strands of hair behind her ear and returned to her packing.
"Yes, Alice. So you have said several times today already." she replied, trying hard not to sound annoyed or disinterested.
"But it's so exciting, Cora!" Alice bubbled. Hugging the dress she was holding, she twirled in a circle over to the window, her eyes resting on the woods outside as she imagined it to be the forest she would soon be traveling through. "We've never been to a place such as this. Who knows what wonders we shall see! And who knows the people we shall meet! Including the red man!"
"I should think it would be best if we do not meet the red man, don't you? Duncan said it could be dangerous. Not all of the tribes here are allies of the Crown." Cora reminded Alice, who darted from the window to her own bed to resume her packing.
"Nonsense! As I said in the orchard during tea, Papa wouldn't have sent for us if it was dangerous. He would never put us at risk of coming to harm." Alice countered as she neatly folded the dress.
"True. He would not. Oh Alice! You are not taking that are you?" Cora exclaimed, having looked up in time to see Alice about to put the elegant brocade silk gown into her trunk.
"Whyever not?"
"Because, dear sister. We will be staying in a remote wilderness outpost constructed of logs. There will not be a ballroom with chandeliers, I am sure. The most we can expect is a fiddler or two. And, if we are lucky, a swept patch of dirt on the parade ground for dancing on the odd night. You will have to leave such things as gowns and hoops behind and pack more sensibly. Simple dresses with a bum pad will have to do." Cora explained. With a disappointed groan, Alice reluctantly returned her gown to the closet. "Besides." Cora added. "Consider the poor pack mule that will be carrying your luggage through rugged wilderness."
"Of course. You are right, Cora." Alice relented. "It is just that I am so excited because I feel this journey will be unlike anything we could ever imagine, and I want to be prepared for it so I can look my best." Looking thoughtful, Alice picked up several of her own extra shifts and placed them in her trunk. "I have an instinctive feeling that when we depart for Fort William Henry tomorrow, our lives will change forever."
The following morning, not far from Schuylerville
As the sun climbed higher above the eastern horizon, three men, the last members of their family, prepared to break camp in a forest glade and begin the long westward journey on foot to the lands of the Delaware in Can-tuck-ee. The elder of the group paused for a moment to admire his two younger companions as they packed their belongings into their knapsacks.
Still a vigorous man at age fifty, Chingachgook was an imposing figure. A fierce and noted warrior throughout the frontier, his marksmanship with a musket and skill with his deadly war club made even the most seasoned opponents fear him in battle. Bearing a snake tattoo on his forehead that symbolized his well-known name, the matching wampum choker and belt he wore also identified him as a hereditary chief of the Mohican people. Smiling contentedly, Chingachgook gazed lovingly at the youngest man, and looked forward to one day placing the choker and belt in the hands of the son who would carry on that honored and respected title.
That son was Uncas. At age twenty two, he was two years younger than his brother, Nathaniel Poe, who as the eldest son would normally have inherited the chieftainship from their father. But Nathaniel had been adopted by Chingachgook as an infant, and so as his father's only blood son, the title of chief would go to Uncas instead. Young, tall and handsome, Uncas' trim build was firmly muscled, and his skin was a rich caramel tone. Unlike other tribes, including the Mohican, Uncas chose to keep his thick silken black hair long and loose, pulled partially back in a braid to keep it out of his face. That braid was bound by a leather thong attached to a thin strip of colorful quill work adorned with a red feather. Two other thin braids bedecked either side of his head. The remainder of his hair flowed down his back like a cascading waterfall of raven feathers. Despite being the youngest, Uncas had already made a name for himself, and was highly respected by colonists and natives alike. He was also by far the best tracker of the trio, which was no small thing given the company he was with. In fact, his father and brother often claimed to all that Uncas was the best tracker on the frontier, and they knew he could be counted on to detect and follow the faintest of trails, whether the maker was animal or human. And like his namesake, the fox, Uncas possessed a cleverness that enabled him to devise the best plan when hunting game, and an uncanny instinct for locating misplaced items.
As his loving gaze drifted from Uncas to Nathaniel, Chingachgook next contemplated his adopted son. In the twenty four years that had passed since the fatherless infant had come into his life, Nathaniel had grown into a fine young man any father would be proud of. Tall, trim, and well-muscled like Uncas, Nathaniel also wore his hair in a similar fashion to his brother, but minus the feather. Black with brown highlights, his thick wavy hair constantly got in his face when worn loose, hence the necessity to keep it tamed. Nathaniel was also known in the colonies and wilderness as an honorable man who's word could be trusted without question, and he had also acquired considerable fame for his marksmanship with the long rifle he carried. A reputation that earned him the nickname La Longue Carabine. There were two other names he was also known by. One was Nathaniel Poe, his birth name which he was commonly referred to as in the settlements. The other was Wang-Kamamaö Ukeesquan, his Mohican name, which he earned as a youth not only for his sharp vision and aim, but also for his perceptiveness in judging people's character. Because his Mohican name was so difficult to pronounce however, his colonial friends chose to call him by its English translation, Hawkeye.
The trade of their furs at their favorite trading post in Schuylerville had been especially profitable this season, and Chingachgook was eager to reach a particular band of the Lenne Lenape so that Uncas could begin looking for a wife. A number of Mohican families were now living with this band, and Chingachgook was confident this winter would finally see his son married and settled with a good woman. In fact, there was one particular Mohican girl that Uncas had his eye on during their last visit. Perhaps by this time next year if Uncas did choose a wife, Mohican or Delaware, and the Master of Life smiled upon the young couple, he would finally have a grandchild to bounce on his knee. Smiling contentedly, Chingachgook huffed a small laugh and called out to his boys.
"Come my sons." he encouraged them. "I want to cover as much distance as we can today. It is a long way to the village of our Delaware and Mohican friends."
"We'd be on our way already if someone wasn't such a slowpoke this morning." a smirking Nathaniel teased as he poked his hunched over brother's head several times with his fingertip. Slinging his knapsack over his shoulder, Nathaniel watched Uncas slowly rise and do likewise with his own pack.
"Nathaniel is right, my son." Chingachgook stated, his smile fading. "You've been unusually quiet ever since you awoke this morning. And you seem reluctant to get started on our journey. Are you unwell? Or perhaps you do not wish to make this trip?" He hoped he was wrong on both accounts, and that something else was troubling his son.
"No. No, I'm fine! And I'm looking forward to visiting the Delaware and our people again." Uncas replied. Trying to appear enthusiastic, he knew his father and brother saw through his efforts to hide his apprehension.
"Not gettin' cold feet at the thought of giving up your wandering bachelor life and settling down with a wife now are you?" Nathaniel asked, grinning but only half joking.
"Of course not." Uncas shot back with a scowl. "It's just…"
"What is it, my son." Chingachgook asked when Uncas' voice trailed off and he looked pensively toward the ground.
"I don't know, father." Uncas replied with sigh of resignation. "Ever since I woke up this morning, I've had this unshakable feeling that when we leave this place…. nothing is going to be the same anymore. That our lives are going to change in a way we never expected. And that there will be no turning back for any of us."
Chapter 1: Dead Men Do Tell Tales
"Top of the next ridge. Fort's downhill of it."
Scouting just below the rim of the first ridge the following evening as a light drizzle pattered down, Uncas walked slowly and cautiously along a deer trail as Nathaniel's voice drifted up to him from below. With shoulders slightly bowed, his eyes scanned the ground for tracks as he moved parallel to the rest of the party making their way along the base of the ridge. Stopping, Uncas stood still for a moment. Cocking his head like a bird, he listened, then slowly turned around and straightened to his full height as his keen vision searched through the trees and undergrowth behind him for any sign they were being followed. Save for the almost constant rumble of thunder in the distance, the forest was quiet. Maybe too quiet. The silence unsettled him because he knew they were being followed, either by Magua and his men, or the Ottawa war party that had attacked the Cameron farm. Or perhaps it was the Abenaki that tracked them to the burial ground the night before. They were all out there somewhere. Of that he had no doubt. And one of those groups was on their trail.
Something didn't feel right about any of this. In fact, nothing had felt right to Uncas since he awoke the previous morning. Thinking back on it, he recalled how he'd tried to brush off the unsettled feeling after he and his family broke camp, but it stayed with him throughout the day. It then increased early that afternoon when Chingachgook discovered evidence a Huron war party was in the area. By the time they'd tracked the Huron to the George Road and found them in the process of slaughtering a company of British soldiers, the anxiety was almost unbearable, but Uncas nonetheless readied himself to fight.
Using the element of surprise to their advantage, Uncas, his father, and his brother immediately got the upper hand over the war party, unnerving the Huron with their surprise counterattack. When their numbers started dwindling rapidly, the surviving Huron knew their formidable opponents had shifted the odds against them, and they beat a hasty retreat. Safe for the moment, a brief discussion took place between between the Mohicans, and it was decided that they would escort the Munro sisters and Major Duncan Heyward to their destination at Fort William Henry.
That was one day and three war parties ago. So much had happened since then. So much violence and death. And that uneasy feeling had intensified to the point that Uncas was now a bundle of raw nerves, a feeling belied by his outwardly calm appearance. This was bigger than a random group of wandering Huron attacking a company of British soldiers on the march. Or of a traveling group of Ottawa attacking a homestead they happened upon; or Abenaki venturing down from their lands, then following their trail to the burial ground. No. This was much bigger than all of that. The frontier was crawling with war parties, and Uncas couldn't shake the feeling it had to do with the very fort they were trying to reach.
Slowly, Uncas turned back around, the approaching thunderstorm they'd been hearing all evening rumbling once again as he did so. The sound did nothing to quell his edginess. Something about it sounded odd. As he resumed his methodical trek along the ridge, he allowed his gaze and mind to settle for a moment on something more pleasant, namely the young woman in the pink dress walking below him. Alice. A pretty name for a pretty girl, with blond hair, and eyes whose color were a mix of green and brown like the forest. In fact, despite her wealthy upbringing she seemed at one with the wilderness. She was strong, and traveled without complaint, frequently taking in the beauty of the nature surrounding her. There was something about Alice. Something that awakened feelings in him he couldn't explain. Feelings that made him want to know her better. As thunder continued to rumble in the distance, he hoped he would have a chance to do so once they reached William Henry. There, he and his father and brother would rest a bit and wait out the thunderstorm before resuming their journey west in the morning. Vowing to himself to see her safely to the fort, Uncas gradually made his way upward to scout the top of the first ridge as another voice from below reached his ears.
"The men of the regiment will fetch water from the lake. Build fires. And provide every comfort you desire." Duncan puffed as he and the others began their trek up the steep ridge.
"Yes!" Alice gasped, equally out of breath as she cast a smile at Duncan. "I cannot wait to see Papa."
"I'm sure he will want to hear all about your adventure." the major pleasantly added.
Adventure indeed, Alice sarcastically thought to herself, recalling her statement to Duncan two days ago during tea in the garden at the Patroon's house in Albany. It had indeed started out as an adventure, a marvelous one, when they'd set out on their wilderness journey just after dawn the previous morning. As a company of the 60th Regiment of Foot departed Albany for Fort William Henry, Alice had proudly ridden her horse among their ranks beside Cora's gelding and behind Duncan's white mare. But by midday that excitement had turned into monotony after hours of riding sidesaddle under the relentless August sun. The high humidity and her pink silk riding dress didn't help the situation any, and she'd found herself envious of their half naked Mohawk guide. Even the rhythmic sound of the drums and marching footsteps that fed her excitement earlier came to annoy her as it droned on incessantly. Now, looking back on the journey through the wilderness as she trudged up the ridge beside Duncan, Alice thought perhaps it would all seem like an adventure when she was an old woman relaying the tale to her grandchildren. Except for the attack on the George Road of course. That would forever remain a nightmare to her.
Tightly blinking her eyes, Alice forced the images of the horrific event from her mind, and focused instead on reaching the protection of the fort and her father's comforting arms. And a hot bath. And clean clothes. Duncan had promised her such and she intended to hold him to it. No doubt Cora would as well. But then her sister only seemed interested in Mr. Poe, so perhaps she could have the bathwater to herself and linger in it as long as she liked. No. Cora would want to tidy up for Mr. Poe, surely. Just as she wanted to tidy herself up for his brother. Uncas. Polite, supportive, and patient with her; the young warrior's presence fortified her during the trek to the fort, and she had taken every opportunity to gaze at him as they traveled. She also discreetly conspired to be near him whenever she could, either while walking or during rest breaks. And when the Abenaki had approached their hiding place in the burial ground the night before, it was Uncas she'd sought out for safety. Remembering the event, Alice could still recall the feel of his strong arms around her and the weight of his body on top of her when the Abenaki were near. She had even groaned in disappointment when he'd released her after the danger had passed. Rather than return to her original place near Duncan, she instead chose to remain beside Uncas, and she'd fallen into a peaceful sleep with the feel of his warm body next to hers, knowing he'd keep her safe.
Oh how handsome Uncas is, Alice thought to herself, steeling a glance at him as she reached the top of the ridge, He is breathtaking! Nowhere had she seen a man who could compare to the young Mohican warrior. Surely some lucky young woman waited for him somewhere. Waiting in their lodge in some village, perhaps with their children. That thought caused an unexpected wave of jealousy to twist Alice's stomach into a knot, and she stumbled over a tree root. Fool of a girl, she berated herself. How could a man like him not have a woman waiting for him. And just because Uncas had been kind to her on their journey didn't mean he was attracted to her. He was probably just being nice. And besides. Society forbade a relationship between them anyway. Still. She could fantasize about it. There was no harm in that, since her thoughts and the sight of him made the trip bearable. That and the untold beauty of the wilderness around her, a land that Uncas seemed at one with. His home. And so Alice snatched every opportunity she could to look at Uncas as the travelers made their way toward the second ridge, the ominous rumble of thunder they'd been hearing all day becoming steadily louder ahead of them as they progressed.
It wasn't thunder. As Uncas neared the far rim of the second ridge after nightfall, he knew for a certainty the sound was not an approaching storm. It was all wrong. And combined with the orange flashes of light he could see through the undergrowth ahead of him, it led him to a suspicion he didn't want to entertain. Cautiously stopping at where the ridge top suddenly sloped steeply down to the shore, Uncas' suspicions were confirmed as he looked southwest over the lake. Fort William Henry was under attack.
Following his brother, Nathaniel also stopped at the rim a short distance away from him. Behind him, Chingachgook pushed past Cora, who had frozen in her tracks when she saw the flashes through the leaves. As she tried to comprehend the magnitude of what she was seeing, Alice and Duncan arrived at her side. Leaving Alice with her sister, Duncan moved forward to join Nathaniel and Chingachgook. Shocked to see their destination was besieged, the major was at a loss as to how to proceed given this new development, and he cast a glance at the men standing beside him for some sign of what they should do. The fearful expressions on Nathaniel and Chingachgook's faces showed that, for the first time, they too were unsure of what to do, which rattled Duncan even more.
Sensing more than hearing movement behind him, Uncas turned away from the fort and looked over his shoulder. Although the night made it difficult to see into the murky darkness of the forest, he could just make out the forms of a sizable war party quickly heading their way. The Abenaki had followed them. Whipping his head back around, he stared again at the fort. What were they going to do now? Where could they go? They couldn't go back into the forest and make their way somewhere else. Not now. But they couldn't go forward to the fort either. Or could they? For as his eyes fell to the shoreline downhill of him, Uncas spotted a lone canoe beached half out of the water. Odd that it was there. But it was there none the less. And it was their only hope of reaching the fort, which at this point was the better of two bad options. Quickly, Uncas hurried to where his father and brother stood with the major to inform them of his plan.
"What are our chances of making it across to the fort?" Duncan asked as the group made their way down to the lake.
"Better'n our chances if we don't." Nathaniel dryly answered. Ahead of them, Chingachgook led the way down the steep slope while Uncas held his customary place of rear guard. As soon as the slope leveled off, the elder Mohican stopped just inside the tree line bordering the lake shore. Waiting for the rest of the group to catch up, Chingachgook scanned the area to ensure it was safe before anyone stepped out into the open.
Fanning out slightly to left of the others ahead of him, Uncas slowly made his way to the tree line. Intently studying the open area of the shore ahead of him as he moved forward, he barely managed to keep himself from falling when he suddenly tripped over something solid. Glancing down, Uncas expected to see the culprit was a log. He was not prepared for what it actually was, and an involuntary gasp of surprise escaped his lips.
Hearing the gasp, Chingachgook immediately rushed to his son's side, Nathaniel and the others quickly joining them. Despite the danger of the war party that would soon be making their way up the ridge behind them, the group stood staring in shock at what caused Uncas to trip. For there on the ground lay a man sprawled on his back with a dagger sticking out of his chest. Middle aged and overweight, he was finely dressed in an expensive English silk jacket, shirt and knee breeches, a brocade waistcoat, shiny black shoes, white silk stockings, a white powdered wig, and several ornate pieces of gold and gemstone jewelry. Everything about the man's appearance was befitting someone of significant wealth and importance who lived in a city. Not a settler who lived on the frontier, or a soldier or militiaman inside a wilderness fort. As Duncan looked the man over, something about the dagger caught his eye and he knelt down beside the body for a closer look. As he placed one hand on the ground to steady himself while leaning forward to study the handle, he bumped the dead man, whose eyes suddenly flew open as he gasped loudly for air and clasped his hand around Duncan's wrist. Almost as one the entire group jumped back a step. All except Duncan that is, who was held in place by a death grip on his forearm. Staring wide-eyed at the startled major, his expression desperate, the man on the ground struggled to speak in a hoarse and raspy voice.
"Stop…. Harlequin…..Inside fort…. Mustn't…reach…..Columbine….." Before he could say more, the man drew in one last ragged breath which then rattled out, his wide open eyes now unseeing and staring upward at nothing.
"Is he really dead this time?" Uncas hesitantly asked.
"This time he is." an unnerved Duncan replied, having used his free hand to check for a pulse. Freeing his wrist from the dead man's fingers, he stood up and stepped back to join the others, all of them still staring in shock at the lifeless body lying before them.
"I wonder what he meant?" Cora wondered aloud. "He must have known those would be his last words. Why say such a thing? What was the importance behind it?"
"I don't know." Nathaniel solemnly replied. "But if we don't get moving, we'll all be sayin' our last words. That war party is gonna be comin' over that ridge any time now. Let's get you ladies and our gear into that canoe. Stay low while you're in there. The four of us will guide the canoe by walking beside it in water up to our necks. If we're lucky, those warriors won't see us and will think the canoe is floating adrift on the lake. And if we're very lucky, they'll find the body and stop to ponder over it like we did, giving us time to reach the shore. Our only chance is to make it into the fort." Turning towards the besieged fortress, Nathaniel grimly set his jaw.
"Hopefully we won't get blown up once we're inside."
Author Note:
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of The Cryptic Message. It is the first in a series of individual chapter stories that will comprise The Last of the Mohicans Mystery Series. I have always loved reading mystery novels and watching mysteries on tv. In fact, it was while watching an episode of PBS' "Poirot: The Affair at the Victory Ball" that the inspiration for the LOTM Mystery Series came to me. The series will span from August of 1757 through the year 1758, and possibly even beyond that depending on how far the series goes. So far I have eight stories outlined in various stages of development, so there will be plenty of new adventures to be had with new mysteries for you and our gang to solve. In addition to featuring all of our favorite characters, the series will also introduce some new ones, two of whom appeared in the movie as extras and will make regular appearances throughout the series. You'll recognize them when you meet them.
The first few chapters of The Cryptic Message will more or less follow canon before it veers off completely into original territory. I hope you like it. And I hope that you will let me know, either in a review or a PM, what you think of this story. This mystery series has been years in the planning stages. But it's only now that I feel ready to debut it. Writing a mystery is no easy task. You cannot just write it as you go. A mystery requires knowing the "who, what, where, when, how and why" before you begin. Needless to say, I'm very nervous about embarking on a project of this magnitude, so your feedback is invaluable in letting me know if I'm getting it right or not.
And so, my friends, the stage is set. The mystery has begun. Who was the dead man? Who is Harlequin? Who and where is Columbine? And why must Harlequin be prevented from meeting her? There is much excitement and suspense ahead. So put on your detective hats, keep your eyes open for clues, and see if you can figure out…who done it. Cheers!