“You have no idea how anguished and despairing I was when I realized it was you.”
Ceressa was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Latimer. And I might have killed you.” She shuddered inwardly. “Perhaps what I did was ill-advised, but I knew you needed help.”
“Did you, now? Help with my appearance, perhaps?” Now he was teasing, and she relaxed. “I’ll be the first to admit I needed a trim. And I could probably use a shave.”
The beard had proven to be a bit scratchy but hadn’t deterred Ceressa from openly displaying her affection. Even now, she was possessed of a wild urge to kiss him. It took a great deal of self-control to ignore the impulse.
Apparently, Latimer had no intentions of exercising any degree of self-control as he sought her lips. How was it the Lord had granted her the affection of this man? She was still awed by the miracle of it all. Just as she was wondering if her kisses were as perfect to Latimer as his were to her, he pulled away and stood, moving over to the now lifeless fire. He crouched beside it and poked about until a few sparks sprang to life.
Pushing herself up, she came to her feet and joined him, kneeling by the renewing fire. “You seem troubled.”
Latimer remained silent then resumed prodding the twigs and stout limbs he’d collected before they’d fallen asleep. “I hope I didn’t force you into something uncomfortable. Each day on the ship was absolute torture wanting you, fighting you, desiring you, resisting you. Everything exploded inside me last night. I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
“I’m glad it happened.” Ceressa wondered if saying such was acceptable for a gentlewoman, but it was what she felt. “It was the same for me on the voyage. Now, perhaps, we can discover God’s plan for our lives together.”
“Do you really believe that?”
Ceressa wasn’t sure if Latimer was expressing skepticism or hope. “I believe God brought us to this point for some reason. I want to follow this path in faith and with trust.” She knew that he was looking at her, for even in the darkness she could feel the heat of his stare.
Finally, he spoke. “You made a rash decision by following me this time. This path will lead to nothing but danger. It won’t be long until first light. Already I can see the change along the horizon. It’s going to be a hard day’s travel toward the York River, then we’ll cut over to the northwest to the lands still populated by the Pamunkeys. Be sure to keep that hat on your head. I don’t want any trouble from a native who might think you’d make a good addition to his long house. Stay silent, and for once, let me speak whatever needs to be said. Otherwise, we could both end up dead, and April will remain with her uncle and his people.”
“I understand. Why does Bocatakum think you’ve the power to sway Nathaniel Bacon?”
“Remember Bacon and I were friends when he first arrived in the colony. Bocatakum is aware of this. But he also knew that we parted on terms less than favorable.”
“Then you should tell Bocatakum what everyone else knows—that you are an enemy of Bacon’s.”
“Believe me, I plan to tell him once we reach his village. I’m sorry I have nothing to offer you to eat. I’d hunt for a rabbit or quail, but I can’t waste the time.” He stood and drew her up with him. He tipped her chin and ran his thumb across her flesh.
“I’m still not sure what made you steal Bengie’s clothes and ride off in search of me down a road you’ve never traveled with no way of knowing you’d catch up to me.”
“Faith.” Ceressa wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, forgetting all about self-control.
Fire Dragon's Angel
25
As they rode, Ceressa and Latimer ate some of the food Kate had packed for Ceressa, and when dawn broke fully in all its magnificent blues and violets and muted crimsons, they found themselves overlooking a large river, already bustling with activity.
“It’s the York,” Latimer said as he turned Firewind around. He’d told Ceressa they wouldn’t be crossing the river but would follow it until they reached a narrow tributary known as the Pamunkey. When they finally arrived at the smaller body of water, the terrain was lush and green, fed by the life-giving properties of the river. Latimer had no trouble guiding them to a trail that Ceressa suspected he’d taken before.
“When Constance fell in love with Kitchi, I forbade her to marry him. I knew Kitchi—he was a good man and a match for my sister’s sometimes boundless zeal. But I was hampered by prejudice and expectations. I wanted a good marriage for Constance—there were so many eligible men in the Cittie and in Surry. But she loved Kitchi. They ran off and I tracked them to his village where Bocatakum and his people still live. I tried to convince her to return with me, but she refused. They had already undergone a sort of marriage performed by the tribal shaman, and when I realized the union had been consummated, I knew that Constance’s happiness was the important thing. They were married again by the minister of Lawne’s Creek Parish, and once she and Kitchi exchanged those vows, I turned the entire matter over to God and asked for His blessing upon their lives and their future. You already know the end of the story.
“For months, while I grieved for Constance and tried to parent a babe, I railed at the Lord, wondering if He had taken Constance from me because of my own failures. It was nearly three years before I came to terms with what had happened and decided to make the best of the matter. April needed a mother, and I no longer wanted to spend my nights in an empty house and an empty bed. I could have married Phyllis, but her affection seemed superficial. Thus my journey to England and the engagement to Heloise.”
“If you never intended to marry Phyllis, why do you harbor such animosity toward Torrence Willshire?”
Latimer looked at her, and there was no mistaking his irritation. She almost regretted speaking, and she wondered if he would be polite enough to answer.
“Torrence Willshire and I have been acquainted since we were lads at Eton.”
Ceressa expelled her breath, relieved that Latimer had chosen to respond. Then his words registered—lads at Eton?
“But we were never friends. Willshire reveled in disrupting the classroom, and I tried to abide by the rules. When we both excelled at swords and firearms, a rivalry sprang between us that Willshire took very seriously. Then, I defeated him in a championship match, and his father publicly chastised him for his ineptness. Thus was born Willshire’s hatred of me. As the third of four sons, Willshire’s father decided he should enter the ministry, which brought about our attendance at Exeter at the same time. He still harbored a grudge, so he eagerly aided the don who brought the cheating charges against me. Not long after I left, he was dismissed for misconduct. Imagine my surprise when I first met with Governor Berkeley and discovered that Willshire was one of his aides. And until my arrival, Phyllis Carruthers’s most favored attendant.”
“So Torrence Willshire fancies Bartholomew’s daughter. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Latimer chuckled. “Indeed, never were two more suited for one another. The sad truth is that I believe Willshire is genuinely in love with her—as much as a man given to preening and wreaking havoc can be.”
“Preening and wreaking havoc,” Ceressa murmured. “I’d say that describes Phyllis perfectly.”
They slipped into a companionable silence as they moved deeper into rich, verdant forest neither touched by a settler’s axe nor stripped of life by a hunter’s musket. Teeming with nature’s abundance, startled doe and fawns watched them pass with open curiosity, and birds flitted about chattering and chirping. Ceressa felt as though she’d stepped into a fairy-tale world where no human had ever existed, only pixies and sprites who danced among the golden motes that cascaded to the vine-covered floor. Yet, as they moved further into the dense growth of towering pines and oaks, each tree struggling to catch the sunlight that filtered through, Ceressa could see the wariness in Latimer’s eyes, and she reminded herself to heed all of Latimer’s cautions.
Without warning, three men darted into t
heir path, each bronzed native clad similarly to the one Ceressa had glimpsed near the stable. The same markings and facial paint covered their faces, and their heads were shaved. Swallowing a shriek, she brought Nosegay to a halt while Latimer raised his hand in greeting. “Netab.”
He speaks their language. Isn’t there anything he can’t do? Ceressa shook her head. Would she ever cease to be amazed by this man?
“Keij. Keij.” The three natives seemed determined to force them back as they chanted the strange word and advanced with spears. Latimer and Ceressa had only one shot each; then they’d be forced to use their swords.
Latimer sent Firewind forward as though unafraid of the three. Ceressa’s heart thudded painfully, and it was hard to draw a breath. There could be no fainting here as she’d done upon her arrival in James Cittie. Too much depended on her helping Latimer.
“I’ve come for my niece,” Latimer spoke in English. One of the men moved closer, lowering his weapon. She was surprised when he responded to Latimer in English.
“Bocatakum said you would come. He said the child would bring you to him. It has been many vmpsquoth since last you were here. Right after the death of Kitchiwanok and your nuckaandgum. Come.” The three lowered their weapons, and Ceressa resumed breathing. Latimer looked at her and nodded, indicating that she go before him. She guided Nosegay around Latimer and followed the three men who moved effortlessly through the forest.
The dense thicket of trees gave way to a clearing. Fires burned in several places, and long, hut-like houses covered with animal skins filled the clearing. Activity ceased as they entered; men and women came to their feet to get a glimpse of the new arrivals. Children halted their play, and several dogs barked. The three men led Latimer and Ceressa to a larger hut in the center of the village. The one who had spoken English disappeared within while the other two remained on either side of the skin-draped opening, watching her and Latimer. Latimer dismounted then came around to her side.
“It might be best for you to dismount without my help—all in keeping with your disguise.” Ceressa was trembling so badly that as she swung down, her knees nearly buckled. Latimer grabbed her elbow and helped her remain upright. She shoved Bengie’s battered hat down harder upon her head. The native man returned.
“Bocatakum says he will see you. But this one is to stay here.”
“Matah—no. The boy comes with me.”
The native’s face darkened, his lips thinning into a terse line as he folded his arms across his muscled chest.
Ceressa wanted so badly to take Latimer’s hand but couldn’t given the fact he wanted her to be taken for a boy.
“I have always been the friend of Kitchiwanok and Bocatakum. I have not changed.”
The man seemed to ponder Latimer’s words.
“Come,” he bade then re-entered the hut. The other two men took possession of the horses. Ceressa cast Latimer a terrified glance, but he shook his head as though saying this wasn’t the time to be afraid. Help us, Lord. Please, help us. I’m so afraid.
****
The long house was much the same as Latimer remembered from his last visit shortly after the deaths of Kitchi and Constance. Skins covered the floor and crude mats near the fire served as beds and a sitting area during meals. A fire burned in the center, and it was here that Bocatakum sat. As Latimer approached, Bocatakum shooed away his wife, who was heavy with child, and the two older women with her. They, in turn, herded several children and dogs outside. Latimer’s heart dropped when he saw no sign of April. Bocatakum rose to his feet.
“Pules is safe and well,” Bocatakum said as though reading Latimer’s mind. The Pamunkey’s English was nearly flawless so there would be little need for Alsoomitok to remain. Yet, the man’s status as Bocatakum’s messenger and translator assured him a place during the audience. “She plays with my sons and daughters—her cousins, as you white faces call them.”
“I am glad to know that. Why did you take my niece? We discussed her future right here around your fire and in your home. As we smoked the apokan, you agreed to let me raise her and educate her in the English world. You told me that it was Kitchi’s wish if something should happen to him or my sister.”
“I have not forgotten our words.” Bocatakum’s eyes cut over to Ceressa who was clasping her hands so tightly they appeared drained of all color. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. “Cacuttere windg yowk?”
“This is Quarles,” Latimer replied to Bocatakum’s request for Ceressa’s identity. “He is recently from England.” Bocatakum moved closer to Ceressa. His hand shot out, knocking the hat off her head. Her glorious hair spilled about her shoulders and down her back. Bocatakum looked over at him, a hint of a smile playing about his lips.
“If you wish to disguise a woman as a man, you would do well to hide this.” He thumped himself on his upper chest while Ceressa reddened. Latimer thought he heard Alsoomitok chuckle. “What is her name?”
“This is Ceressa, my crenepo—my woman. My wife.”
“Ah, your noungasse. You have brought back a wife from the land of your fathers. I saw her when I brought you the message.”
“You frightened her very badly. She could have been hurt.”
“Matah. I never intended that. I only wanted to make sure you understood.”
“Mattaquenatorath. I do not understand. Why have you taken April from her home? In the land of my birth, kidnapping is a serious crime.”
“She has not been mistreated. The little pigeon has enjoyed playing with the children. There are no children in your large long house. It is empty of laughter and play.”
“I’ve been away for several months. That will change now.”
“No—it will not change unless you stop the maskapow, this Bacon who would destroy us all. Our tribe is plagued by this man and his followers who kill all men native to Tsenahcommacah. We are attacked with no regard to tribe or allegiance. You, Towawh nekut, can speak with Bacon.”
“He will not listen to me,” Latimer said. “He is beyond reason and desires only to make our ruler, the governor, sent by the wiroance who rules England, look the fool.”
“You will try, or Pules will remain here. Our blood runs through the child, too.”
Cold dread clamped Latimer for there was no disputing Bocatakum’s words.
“You are the one to stop Bacon. If he is not stopped, we will no longer stand idly by. We will attack and nothing and no one will be spared.”
“Bocatakum, we are brothers in Christ. You made a vow to our one true Lord to live according to His word.”
Bocatakum’s eyes saddened, but he held his head high. “I do not break my vows lightly, Towawh, my strong brother. I see no other way. Speak to your governor. Have him defeat Bacon.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Then Pules stays here.”
Latimer unconsciously grasped the hilt of his sword as he met the defiant gaze of Bocatakum.
Ceressa stepped forward and curtsied, then raised her eyes to Bocatakum’s, remaining crouched before him. Latimer saw an emotion flicker in the chief’s eyes—admiration, perhaps?
“Chief Bocatakum, might I be allowed to speak?”
Alsoomitok stepped forward as though to pull Ceressa away, but Bocatakum waved him back.
“Towawh has taken to wife a crenepo with much spirit. You think you can change my mind?”
“If you are a Christian, I may.”
Latimer wasn’t sure if his heart was thudding with pride or uncontrollable fear. If she angered Bocatakum, they might both be slain.
“The words of the Bible tell us to live in harmony. I know that many who have settled upon this land have forgotten that admonition. But Latimer, whom I believe you consider a friend, is not one of them. There are forces working against Latimer and those who believe as he does, that keep this land in turmoil and destroy the lives of the innocent. It has to stop. Using your niece as a bargaining tool can only cause more ill will. I have left my home in England to
be a wife to Latimer and a mother to April. I know I will love this child and vow to you I will do anything to protect her. As would you and Latimer. But that may prove impossible if you travel the same perilous path as Nathaniel Bacon. Work with Latimer, not against him.”
A deafening silence filled the space, broken only by the hiss and crackle of the fire.
Bocatakum finally forced his gaze from Ceressa and looked at Alsoomitok. He spoke to the man in his native tongue, but Latimer easily distinguished some words, Pules, April’s Pamunkey name, and peache, which meant “bring.” Alsoomitok slipped out of the long house, and Latimer met Bocatakum’s gaze.
“Nawpin—sit down,” Bocatakum commanded. Latimer started to comply until he realized Ceressa hadn’t moved. To his consternation, she stood. He wanted to grab her shirt tail and pull her down.
“Does this mean you’ll release April?” Ceressa asked.
“I will think upon it. But the two of you have traveled far. You will stay here tonight and share the meal with me. We will talk more about this Bacon and the Bible. Did you know Towawh presented me a Bible written in my tongue? It is a marvelous thing, printed by a white face, John Eliot. I will show it to you.”
Latimer was beyond amazed at Bocatakum’s words, but then realized he shouldn’t be. Ceressa had that affect on everyone. She spoke from her heart, and no one could remain indifferent to that.
Squeals and laughter suddenly surrounded them and six children darted into the long house, all but one running to Bocatakum. The child who hung back was his April, his little pigeon, so named by her father.
“April, little pigeon, I’ve come home.” April’s short legs flew as she ran toward him. Kneeling down, Latimer wrapped his arms around the child, burying his face in her thick, dark curls.
“Unca Lat, Unca Lat,” she said then gave him a wet kiss on the cheek. April bore no evidence of abuse or mistreatment. She was dirty, her delicately embroidered gown ruined beyond repair, but she was whole and unharmed and obviously glad to see him.
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