by Mike Rhynard
Emily’s eyes swelled with astonishment; her mind churned. “Manteo told me these people visited the Lakota, but . . . but . . . Isna, why did they come?”
“It is said they came to see what lay beyond the horizon, for they were people of the water and thought they could take their canoes to new lands filled with things they sought. And that is all Isna knows of them . . . except that some of them continued across our lake and paddled up more rivers and across more lakes, including the Mother-of-All-Lakes, which the Lakota now live beside. The Lakota know this because after many seasons, these men returned to the ones who stayed with the Lakota, and took them back to their island to the north . . . in the bad water.” He smiled. “They told us the bad water goes from the bottom of the world to the top.”
Emily stared through him, her mind churning with wild thoughts. My dreams . . . after the massacre . . . and other times . . .Vikings talking about where to go, what to explore . . . an island where they’d settled. Dear Lord, it must have been them, but . . . yes, I remember. The dreams were real, as if I were there watching the men . . . and I remember it all as clearly as my name. And one of them—his name started with a T, sounded like Trihh-something—talked about . . . no, thought about . . . a girl . . . a girl in England . . . a girl he loved, wanted to return to someday . . . a girl who bore his child. But how can this be? How could I dream such things . . . see his mind . . . remember it all? Impossible. “Isna, if these people were who Emily thinks they were, they were called Vikings, and they discovered this land far earlier than anyone knows or suspects. And . . . and . . . their blood flows not only in you but also in my people; for they raided us for many years . . . and some settled with us . . . and . . . and Emily dreams of them . . . dreams as real as life, as if she were there with them, seeing everything happen as it truly did. Isna, I . . .”
Though she slept, Allie O’Shay’s eyes blinked open; her body trembled; and had she been wired to the Stanford equipment, all of her readings would have simultaneously peaked.
“Isna has heard of such dreamers among his people. They are always women . . . women with powerful gifts, perhaps like Emily . . . all four gifts of the circle of life, and—”
A distant bell clanged three times from the direction of the colony. “Isna. ’Tis the call to meeting. Something’s happened. I must go quickly. It could be—” The crack of a discharging pistol ripped through the air, again from the direction of the colony. “Something bad’s happened . . . perhaps an attack, perhaps . . . I must go now, quickly.” She stood, kissed him, then turned, lifted her dress above her ankles, started toward the forest.
“Wait. Isna goes with Emily to the edge of the forest.” He quickly slid his tamahaac and knife into his waistband, flung his quiver over his shoulder, and tossed the whetstone into Emily’s canvas bag. Gripping his bow with his left hand, he took her hand with his right, led her into the trees at a jog. When they reached the clearing around the palisades, they stopped, quickly kissed. Emily jogged off toward the group of soldiers and civilians gathered in a cluster near the trees on the far side of the clearing. She saw more people running out through the gaps in the palisades, heard women wailing, men shouting. They all looked at something on the ground.
As Emily approached the crowd, she saw a pair of soldiers emerge from the forest. The people silenced except for muffled wails, spread apart, made a path to whatever they were looking at. One soldier said, “No one there, Sir. They’re gone.”
Lieutenant Waters said, “Very well. Sergeant Myllet, post a guard of six men along the perimeter. Smith and Gibbes, form a detail to . . . to properly care for these folk.” He glanced at the ground beside him, shook his head. “Everyone else, please disperse. We will inform you when the burials will occur. Please disperse now and return to the village for your own safety.”
Emily saw Elyoner and Ananias several yards into the crowd. Elyoner, Virginia in her arms, leaned and cried on Ananias’ shoulder. Emily raised her hand to get their attention, twisted her way through the crowd, which was beginning to disperse toward the palisades.
Elyoner saw her. “Em, Em . . . don’t go over there. ’Tis awful. Come here, I shall tell you what happened.”
Emily walked slowly past the Dares in a daze of irresistible curiosity, fixed her eyes on the spot everyone had been staring at.
Ananias yelled, “Emily, do not look, do not go there!”
Emily continued until, between two men in front of her, she saw a man’s legs on the ground. Two steps later, the two men turned to talk to each other, revealed the torso of a prostrate man lying still on the ground. Two more steps revealed his bloody head, its right side blown completely away, his eyeballs dangling, intact, from their sockets. She whispered to a man beside her, “Who is it?”
Without looking at her, the man whispered, “John Chapman. He’s blown his brains out with his pistol.”
Emily covered her mouth with her hand. “Dear Lord. Why?”
“That basket over there beside him.”
“What is in it?”
“Mistress, you do not wish to know.”
“Aye, I do. Please tell me.”
The man sighed. “ ’Tis Mistress Chapman—her ashes and bone fragments, her scalp, a piece of her dress, her wedding ring, and . . . and her genitals.”
“Dear Lord.” She dry heaved twice.
“One of the guards saw two Savages come from the forest, leave the basket, then run away. I don’t know what happened next, but someone rang the gathering bell, and people came to this spot; Master Chapman was one of the first.” The man choked, coughed twice. “When he saw what was there, he immediately pulled his pistol and shot himself in the head before anyone could stop him. A mess . . . poor folk . . . must have been horrible . . . what they did to her. Bastards. We must teach them a lesson.”
Emily didn’t hear, stared into the forest for a moment, then turned, walked back to the Dares, who awaited her in silence. Elyoner and Emily immediately embraced, wept.
Waters said, “Please, good people, return to the palisades. My men and a few ladies will prepare for the burials. We’ll ring the bell when ’tis time. Now please disperse.”
The remaining crowd began trickling toward the palisades. Elyoner stared at Emily, shook her head. “Em, ’tis awful, but I’m going to help with the burials. Would you take Virginia to our house and stay with her until . . .”
“Of course.” She took Virginia, cradled her in her arms. “Come, baby, let us go.” She looked at Elyoner then Ananias, shook her head, looked back at Elyoner. “Ellie, I pray your father returns soon.” She turned, walked toward the palisades.
At the door of the Dares’ cottage, Emily leaned Virginia over her right shoulder so she could open the door with her left hand. As she reached for the handle, someone touched her left shoulder. “Oh!” She spun around, looked into Tayler’s cold, expressionless eyes. “Why . . . why did you do that? You . . . you frightened me.” She eased Virginia from her shoulder to her arms.
“Sorry, Milady.” Tayler smirked, stared down at Virginia for a moment. “A lovely child, for certain.” He reached out, touched the baby’s cheek.
“Get your hands off her.” She tried to rotate Virginia away from him.
He pressed his body against her, squeezed her and Virginia against the door, caressed Virginia’s cheek several times.
“Such soft skin.” He held his eyes on Virginia, who started to squirm. “I’ve missed you, Emily . . . for you have not come to me as you promised.” Keeping his fingers on Virginia’s cheek, he laid his thumb on her other cheek then fondled both.
“I said, take your hands off her!” Again she tried to twist Virginia from his touch, but again he pressed her against the door. “Stop it! I’ve been ill, as you well know.”
He continued caressing Virginia. “I don’t believe you.” He slid his hand down to Virginia’s neck, began to caress her there. Virginia sputtered, began to squirm.
A bolt of desperate fear shot through Em
ily; a chill raced down her neck and shoulders. “ ’Tis true, nonetheless. Now leave her alone.”
“You know, Milady, if I cannot have you as my mistress, I shall have you the way I did the first time.” He rubbed Virginia’s neck more aggressively. She squirmed, cranked louder.
Emily’s mind tumbled in confusion. What to do? Trapped. She started to tell him about their baby, decided it would change nothing. Oh, Isna, I love you so. “Let her go, Hugh! Can you not see she doesn’t like it?” She raised her voice. “Stop it, or I shall scream!”
“Scream and I’ll snap her little neck like a twig.” He tightened his hand around Virginia’s neck, squeezed. Her face began to turn blue; she thrashed, gasped for air, started convulsing.
“Hugh! Stop it! Let go of her!” She tried again to twist away, couldn’t. “Stop! Stop!” Her breathing raced, heart pounded; she gasped, “I’ll come . . . tonight. Now let her go!”
He relaxed his grip, stared into Emily’s eyes for a moment. “Come two hours after the sun reaches the treetops. Do not be seen, and do not knock. I shall await you.” Virginia gulped air, began to cry. Tayler bent over, plucked a twig off the ground, held it three inches from Emily’s eyes, then snapped it in two. “Like her little neck if you fail me.”
“I shall not . . . but I tell you now, you scum, though you may take my body for the rest of my life, you will never, never take my soul, and . . . and I shall kill you when I have the chance.”
He looked sternly into her eyes. “Say what you will, Lady; but forget not that if you do, my friends will kill both the girl and your Savage friend, who, for some inexplicable reason, you appear to love.” He turned, limped away toward his cottage.
Emily watched him until he disappeared behind the next cottage, then glanced down at Virginia. Stop shaking, Em. She looked up at the sun, gauged its time to the treetops. Perchance three hours, no more.
Waters stared silently at Cuthbert White for an extended moment, felt the awkward, expectant tension that hung in the room like a sudden fog. “We know ’tis true.” He glanced at Roger Baylye and Ananias Dare. “Newton’s crime against you deserved the most severe punishment . . . by the bye, how are your wounds?”
“Healing.”
“Good. So continuing, it seemed prudent to not exact his punishment now but rather, use Newton’s fear of execution to gain information regarding a situation I only alluded to in the past but will now provide you the details of.” He drifted his eyes to each of the other loyal Assistants—Thomas Hewet, Christopher Cooper, Roger Prat, John Stilman, John Brooke, John Bright. “That situation is a conspiracy to undermine and destroy the colony; and ’tis in play at this very moment.” He paused, gauged their expressions, wondered if any were part of the conspiracy. “We discovered that Master Newton is one of the conspirators. You can determine from a quick observation of absent Assistants, who some of the others are.” Anxious glances and murmurs rippled through the room. Baylye and Ananias looked at one another then at Waters. “We also know of several additional conspirators, including Hugh Tayler, the leader, as well as the basic elements of their plot, but we hope to learn more from Newton in exchange for a possible pardon from Governor White upon his return”—he looked at White—“ which we realize does not right, or atone for, the wrong he committed against you, Master White. However, if Newton fails to provide us useful information, he’ll immediately find himself kicking air at the end of a rope.” He again studied their faces. “I must also caution you to discuss this with no one; for you could unwittingly be talking to a conspirator, which would alert them to our knowledge of the plot. So please keep your silence and limit your discussion to only those in this room.”
More murmurs.
Thomas Hewet raised his hand. “Lieutenant, can you not tell us more of the conspiracy . . . so we can better assist you in—”
The bell on Baylye’s door tingled, announcing visitors.
Baylye said, “Who is it?”
“Thomas Stevens and John Sampson.”
Baylye glanced at the others, held an index finger to his lips. “Come in.”
Stevens and Sampson entered, noted the others present, then glanced knowingly at one another. Stevens looked at Baylye, said sarcastically, “Are we late? It appears the meeting has already begun.”
Baylye said, “No, you’re not late. The others arrived early, and we were merely chatting about other matters.”
Stevens fixed a long, dubious gaze on Baylye, then said, “Very well, Governor.” He looked at the other Assistants then back at Baylye. “Governor, John Sampson and I have talked to many in the colony about the Chapman incident, and all agree with us that something should be done immediately to punish the Powhatans. We therefore demand you dispatch Lieutenant Waters and his men, augmented by capable civilians, on a punitive raid against them. We’re weary of sitting here waiting to be attacked. We must attack them instead and severely punish them for what they did to Mistress Chapman . . . and for what their deeds prompted Master Chapman to do to himself.”
Baylye glanced at Waters, who immediately stepped toward Stevens. “Master Stevens, while your intentions appear noble, I fear the same unfortunate facts that precluded our pursuit of Mistress Chapman now preclude any thought of a punitive raid against a force as strong as the Powhatans.”
Sampson said, “We expected that response, Waters, because we know you to be a coward, and—”
Waters advanced to within a foot of Sampson, glared into his eyes. “If you believe such, then I shall afford you the opportunity to prove it by facing me on the green, with the weapon of your choice . . . after the safety of the colony is assured. Until then, you’ll have to settle for dreams, and illusions of your military prowess and my lack thereof.”
Sampson swallowed hard, scowled, swallowed again; he lowered his gaze to the floor, stepped back from Waters.
Waters glanced around the room, shook his head. “Gentlemen, I share your emotions regarding the Chapmans; but our military capability has, if anything, diminished since Mistress Chapman was taken, due to our increasing starvation and its consequences—physical weakness and degraded discipline. Still, if we had a hundred soldiers, I would consider such an undertaking; but we do not, and I therefore will not. Until Governor White’s return with more troops, we’ve no choice but to remain here, be vigilant, and strengthen the palisades; for make no mistake, the Powhatans’ increasingly bold advances clearly herald their intention to attack us in overwhelming force . . . perchance far sooner than we imagine . . . and perchance before Governor White returns.” A sudden, grim silence descended over the room, as in a funeral parlor when people view the deceased.
One of the five soldiers treading cautiously behind Taverner through the forest said, “Christ the Almighty, Taverner, do you have any idea where you’re going? I don’t like being this far from the palisades; and if we haven’t found anyone to kill by now, we probably never will.”
Taverner said, “Shut up, Butler. Keep your voice down. Want ’em to hear us?”
Another soldier suddenly tapped Taverner on the shoulder, held a finger to his mouth, then pointed his hand and eyes ahead and slightly to the right.
Taverner held up his hand to halt the others, looked where the man pointed, and twisted his lips into a wicked smile. On the far edge of an unusually large clearing about forty yards across were three Savage women. All three were about seventeen or eighteen, bare topped, clad only in wraparound hide aprons. Unaware of the soldiers, they knelt alongside a stream, their backs to the men, filling water bags, giggling and chatting with one another.
The soldier who’d alerted Taverner whispered, “Can’t hear us . . . stream’s too loud. Think they be Powhatans?”
“Nay. Can’t be . . . too close to the colony.” He looked at the man, smiled. “Who cares what they be? They be women and got cunts, and we ain’t had a woman since we left England.”
The other man returned the smile, slapped Taverner on the shoulder. “What do we do?”
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br /> “You be right. They won’t hear us ’til we’re close.” He motioned the others into a tight huddle, whispered, “Spread out, walk slow and quiet-like ’til we’re too close for ’em to get away. Then we’ll rush ’em, take ’em down, and have our pleasure. What say you?”
The others nodded.
“Good. Everyone have a kerchief in your hand to gag ’em with. Can’t have ’em makin’ no noise.” He smiled. “Look damn good, don’t they . . . even though they be Savages.” He motioned the men to spread out, move slowly, cautiously. When all were in place, he stepped from the trees, started quietly toward the girls, then signaled the others to do the same.
When they were ten yards away, a soldier stepped on a dead branch. It snapped loudly, brought the six to an immediate standstill, drew angry glares from the other five. As they resumed their stealthy march, one of the girls raised her head, looked right and left, stood, looked again, then peered back over her shoulder. She spied the six men, screamed, jostled her friends; they ran for the trees on the far side of the stream.
The soldiers immediately rushed forward. Four tackled the two closest girls, held hands over their mouths while they gagged and bound them. The other two men raced after the third woman, who’d nearly reached the trees. She screamed once before they tackled her, bound and gagged her, dragged her back to the others. All three cried, trembled. Taverner pulled a short rope from his belt, surveyed the girls, walked to one, looked at the soldier who held her. “We’ll all have a turn with all three of them, Farre. But I be first.”
Taverner wrapped the rope around her wrists, pulled her toward a nearby tree, smiled as he approached to within a foot of her; unwrapped her apron, dropped it to the ground, studied the patch of hair between her legs; then pushed her to the ground, handed the rope to Farre. He quickly undid his belt, dropped his pants to his knees, showing the girl his rigid prick, which she gawked at with horrified eyes. As he waddled up to her, he glanced at the other men, smiled. “I wager they all be virgins, men. So let’s get started and enjoy our bounty. Don’t get a chance like this every day.” He knelt, crawled on top of the girl, forced his legs between hers, laid his prick in place, then thrust it forcefully inside her like a spear thrust. She moaned as her maidenhead broke, and he began a rhythmic in-and-out motion that quickly accelerated to rapid, frenzied thrusts which lasted but twenty seconds before Taverner sighed, collapsed on top of the girl for several seconds, then rolled to the ground beside her. He lay still on the ground moaning for a moment, rolled to his knees, stood, pulled his pants up to his waist.