Hiawatha and the Peacemaker

I stared at his stone canoe, bewildered by its ability to float. But we paddled off, and with every impossible moment that the canoe glided across the water, I became more of a believer. 

When we arrived at the land of my people, the Mohawk, we were greeted warmly. The Chief and the Elders were summoned, and a few Clan Mothers looked on with curiosity and concern.

The Peacemaker closed his eyes and placed his hand on my back. Somehow, he moved his message through me. I began to speak. 

“We must join together,” I said.  “All nations will become one family. This is the message of the Great Law.”

The Clan Mothers nodded, and a sense of relief spread over me. But then the War Chief spoke. “We respect your message but cannot join you,” he said. “Tadodaho is too strong, too violent. Our people must be prepared to fight.”

The Peacemaker quietly stuttered, “The Great Law is more powerful than any man. We will return with proof that our nations can join together.”

As the Peacemaker and I traveled toward the land of the Cayuga, he spoke of healing through forgiveness. My mind, still filled with hatred, and my heart, still filled with the pain of my loss, could not comprehend this.

When we arrived, we learned that the Cayuga tribe had been devastated in an attack by Tadodaho and his warriors. My mind was flooded with images of the battle that had taken my family. Rage filled my body. I turned to the Peacemaker and yelled, 

The Peacemaker asked me to sit with him and the Cayuga council. He looked deep into my eyes as he spoke to the people. “I do not see defeat,” he said. “I see a passage—a passage to a new way of life. Join me, and together we can spread peace rather than war, unity rather than fear.” 

The Peacemaker placed his fist over his heart. A feeling of strength ran down my spine. With new hope, we headed to see the Seneca people. The Cayuga Chief followed us in his canoe. 

We were met by 15 armed braves. For the first time, the Peacemaker showed signs of worry. Surrounded by warriors, we were led to the center of the Seneca village. As the Seneca Chief approached, the guards closed in on us. The Chief waved his hand, and the warriors lifted their spears. But then he nodded, and they drove their spears into the dirt. The Chief told us that the wind had carried our message from the land of the Cayuga. His people wanted to learn about the Great Law. 

“We will all perish if we continue this violence,” I said. “Alone, we will be broken, but together we are more powerful than the greatest warrior.”

The Seneca Chief trailed us in his canoe,

Guided by the moon, we trekked to the land of the Oneida. We were halfway to the camp when suddenly, the earth beneath our feet gave way and we were engulfed by a giant net.

The Oneida Chief towered over us. “I’ve spared your life,” he declared. “Why would two chiefs and two strangers be so foolish as to enter our territory in the darkness?” His men bound our hands.

The Peacemaker explained that we had come in the name of peace, but his words had no power with the Oneida. Then the Peacemaker turned to me and said, “Tell your story, Hiawatha.”

I spoke of my hatred for Tadodaho. I told the Oneida that my wife and daughters had been killed by the violent world we had created. But as I spoke, I felt something come over me: Forgiveness. I had not been able to save my family, but on this journey, I had forgiven myself. I turned to the Peacemaker and placed my fist over my heart. He smiled.

A warrior approached and untied us, one by one.

Rather than feel the anger that had consumed me, I now remembered the joy of my family. 

I was joined by the Cayuga Chief, the Seneca Chief, the Peacemaker, and, lastly, the Oneida Chief.

The time had come to return to the Mohawk with proof of our message. When we arrived, the Clan Mothers had a glowing look of approval.

But the Mohawk Chief told us that word of our mission had traveled to Tadodaho. “His evil is too great,” he said. “Your message will only bring harm to our people.”

Angered by his lack of faith, the Oneida Chief pressed the sharpened tip of his staff under the chin of the Mohawk Chief.

“We no longer use violence,” said the Peacemaker as he slowly lowered the staff from under the Chief’s chin.

He then led us to the tallest oak towering over the Mohawk River. 

“I will climb this tree,” he said to the Mohawk Chief, “and your men shall cut it down. But I will not perish. The river will catch me and carry me to safety. Then you will know my words are true.”

The men chopped down the tree. It crashed into the icy waters, and the Peacemaker vanished.

I stood silent, stung by this foolish stunt. I feared the Peacemaker had sacrificed himself at a critical point in our journey.

An elder Clan Mother approached the Chiefs, four younger women by her side. 

“This man has come with a message of peace and unity, but you greet him with closed ears and minds,” she said. “You reject Tadodaho, but you behave just like him!”

She continued. “Let us hope the Peacemaker is alive. While you sharpen your weapons, I will pray for a miracle.” 

Transformed by her words, the Mohawk Chief nodded. 

When we arose in the morning, smoke rose from the river’s edge. We hurried down to find the Peacemaker sitting by a fire, waiting. 

Filled with emotion, the Mohawk Chief agreed to follow us in his canoe to the land of the Onondaga to confront Chief Tadodaho.

Tadodaho lived separately from his people. Bands of warriors stood guard day and night. When we arrived, they yelled and pushed us away. The Peacemaker kept his hands by his side to discourage violence, but the Chiefs and I pushed back.

A figure appeared in the doorway of the dwelling. Hunched and twisted, Tadodaho was a horrifying sight. Sickness from the evil within had taken over his body. Scales covered his skin, snakes slithered through his hair. His forked tongue produced no words—only a hiss. 

My anger returned. I wanted to destroy Tadodaho. The Chiefs continued to push against the warriors. The fighting grew . . . until a haunting melody came floating through the air. Spellbound, all lowered their weapons.

The hymn was coming from the Peacemaker. And as the song drifted through the air, the moon crossed in front of the sun, darkening the sky. Stunned by this miracle, Tadodaho’s warriors pulled back in fear. But, enchanted, the rest of us joined in singing. 

Tadodaho cursed the sky, showing no fear.

As the Peacemaker finished singing, the moon passed, revealing the sun again, more beautiful than before. 

The Peacemaker asked me to make medicine for Tadodaho’s sickness. He said that where there is darkness, we must bring light, and that it is by forgiving that we are set free.

How could I help heal a man who had brought me such misery? 

Yet I gathered roots and herbs for the medicine. And by putting my heart and soul into the potion, my anger disappeared.

I entered the hut with the medicine and fresh water. I explained that every day some of the paste must be mixed with the water and drunk. Tadodaho grabbed it from my hands and drank. His strained breathing eased. The evil look in his eyes softened. He appeared to wonder why a man to whom he brought so much pain would help heal him.

The Peacemaker told Tadodaho we would return in three days and to continue taking the medicine.

We traveled back to the Cayuga, Mohawk, Seneca, and Oneida and told them of our encounter. On the third day, a mass of people followed us to the land of the Onondaga to see Chief Tadodaho once again.

Tadodaho’s voice had returned, but he was still sickly. The Peacemaker approached him and, with all the tribes watching, placed his hands above his head and chanted. Tadodaho screamed, and the snakes slithered from his hair into the grass.

Everyone followed the Peacemaker to a tall white pine. He placed his hand on my back, and once again I spoke for him. 

“People of all nations must now come together as one. Beneath this tree we shall bury our weapons of war.”

The men uprooted the white pine and threw their weapons into the hole. “Now we will replant this tree, and it should be called the Tree of Peace.”  

As I looked at Tadodaho, the scales on his skin began to disappear.

The Peacemaker placed his fist over his heart, and again I spoke. 

“As five nations we will bring forth peace, power, and righteousness. The women of our tribes shall appoint the Chiefs, and as one people we shall live under the protection of the Great Law. All voices will be heard as we now vote before action is taken.”

I looked at Tadodaho, and the once crooked man now stood upright.

“Atop this great white pine shall live an eagle that will look over all Five Nations, and that eagle shall be you, Tadodaho. You will be the keeper of peace and the protector of all the people.”

The Mohawk people began to stomp their feet in unison. Clapping came from the Cayuga, a chant formed between the Onondaga and the Oneida, and the Seneca pounded drums. The melody soared through the pines.

I glanced over to Tadodaho, but he was gone. 

A beautiful scream echoed through the woodlands. . . .

For hundreds of years, the story of the Peacemaker has been passed down as part of the oral tradition of the Haudenosaunee (ho-duh-no-SHOW-nee) peoples. Over time and across nations, the story has evolved, and today there are many versions. Yet the story of the Peacemaker isn’t simply a legend. The Peacemaker and Hiawatha were real people who are thought to have lived in the 1300s. 

The Peacemaker, whose birth name was Deganawida, was a spiritual leader. Historians believe he had a speech impediment and that he chose Hiawatha to accompany him on his quest to bring peace because Hiawatha was a gifted speaker.

The two men journeyed across what is now upper New York State and the provinces of Ontario and Quebec in Canada. They sought to unite the five nations of the Haudenosaunee people, who shared common ancestry but had long been at war with one another: the Cayugas, the Senecas, the Oneidas, the Mohawks, and the Onondagas. 

Once united, members of the confederacy were known as the Haudenosaunee, or People of the Long House. This meant all five nations were one family and could live in peace under one symbolic roof. (The Tuscarora Nation joined the league in 1722, making it the six-nation confederation it is today.) Under the Great Law of Peace, each Nation had a special role in how the Haudenosaunee governed themselves. Each village and clan would choose a chief to represent it at the council of tribes. All decisions were made by consensus at the council, meaning that all voices had equal importance. Men and women shared power.

^{Adapted from HIAWATHA AND THE PEACEMAKER by Robbie Robertson, illustrated by David Shannon.
Text copyright ©2015 Robbie Robertson. Illustrations copyright ©2015 David Shannon. Published by Abrams Books for Young Readers, an imprint of ABRAMS, New York. All rights reserved.}

^{This article was originally published in the October 2025 issue.}