Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  The noise in the great hut dropped off as whispered cries of “Cacique! Cacique!” moved through the crowd.

  Despite Atina’s age, his face was fierce. Black Snake’s men edged backwards. Atina’s face trembled as he shouted at Black Snake. “I am Cacique!” Spittle flew from his lips onto Black Snake’s face. “I did not call for war! The council has not voted for war! Bring the rest of the grain. Now!”

  Black Snake turned away and Atina took his place on the bear skin before the old men. He glared at the two men holding Calling Crow. “Release him.”

  Atina addressed the Spanish and Calling Crow interpreted. “We will have trade with you, but at a place I will choose, somewhere between both of our towns. Your people are not to come into Aguacay.”

  Peralta nodded his agreement.

  “Cacique,” said Calling Crow, “the people should not be allowed to have the Spanish wine. It is bad and when one drinks it, it makes them crazy. Men under its influence beat their wives and children and kill their own brothers. I have seen this with my own eyes when I was a Spanish slave. And their thundersticks will cause more harm among the people than they are worth. We should not bring them into our village.

  Atina nodded. “Tell him.”

  Calling Crow relayed the message to Peralta. Peralta was grim-faced as he nodded. One of his men spoke into his ear and he said to Calling Crow, “they have only brought in fifty baskets of grain. We asked for a hundred.”

  Calling Crow frowned. “Now you have fifty baskets of corn and your lives. A few moments ago you were about to lose them.”

  “Calling Crow,” said Atina, “take them back to their town.”

  Later, as Calling Crow walked along the wide trail at the head of the column, he prayed to his grandfathers that there would be no war. He thought with fondness of the days of his youth when he had been like Red Feather. Then life had been good and simple. He had participated in raids against his village’s enemies without any confusion and had had many brave times. But now things were different. Despite their leaders, not all the Spanish people were bad, but the Coosa did not know this. And now he had Juana to worry about. He felt as if he were being torn in two. The two great masses of clouds continued to move closer and he wondered when they would crash head on.

  When they reached Spanish Town, Calling Crow stood to the side of the palisade with Rain Cloud and Red Feather as the bravos carried the grain into the Spanish fort. The fighting platforms at the top of the palisade were lined with men armed with harquebuses and crossbows. Calling Crow looked around but saw no sign of Juana.

  Peralta and the young, bushy-bearded Valdez walked up to Calling Crow, Rain Cloud and Red Feather.

  Peralta’s smile was bold as he said, “We are finally having some trade after all, eh?”

  Calling Crow’s face was hard as granite. “Only someone as twisted as you would call this trade.”

  Peralta smiled at Valdez. “It is amazing, is it not, his facility with the language?”

  “Si, Senor,” said Valdez.

  Peralta held out his hand to Calling Crow but he would not take it. “We must do more business in the future.”

  Calling Crow signaled for the Coosa bravos to depart. “Any more trading like this and I will not be able to stop them. Do you understand?”

  Peralta smiled as Calling Crow walked off to join the column of bravos moving across the field towards the forest.

  Chapter 25

  Calling Crow, Rain Cloud and Red Feather heard the drumming and singing as they approached the village. Once inside, Atina walked out of the crowd and embraced Calling Crow. Then Two Clouds did the same. Calling Crow followed the two old men through the people as they shouted out their joy and relief at having Atina back. As they neared the square ground in front of the council house, Green Bird Woman pushed into the crowd and took Calling Crow’s arm to walk beside him. “You did it!” she shouted over the noise. She led him to a skin pallet that had been laid out on the ground for him. “Half the women in the village have been cooking since you left,” she said. “There will be quite a feast. Cacique is back!”

  Calling Crow smiled, but said nothing. He was happy this difficulty had been resolved peacefully, but there would be others. Again he saw the two onrushing rivers of cloud. When would the great clash come? Where? He decided that he would need medicine from Sees Far. He must have more than a strong arm and good eye to meet the coming challenge. And that would have to come from the spirit world.

  As Calling Crow thought of these things, the drumming started up. A line of dancers snaked around Atina and Two Clouds where they sat on their pallets. Women brought up pots of soup and began serving. Men started a fire and women prepared deer for cooking. Soon the smell of roast meat filled the air.

  Calling Crow noticed some men leaving the village. It was Black Snake and his warriors. Calling Crow’s heart darkened. They were becoming more angry and unpredictable. How much longer could he keep them and the Spanish apart?

  Someone left the line of dancers and came over to Calling Crow. He looked up. It was the young maiden who had been flirting with him for so long. She danced over him, her womanhood visible through the fringe of her skirt. Someone ran up. Green Bird Woman struck the girl across the back with a willow switch. The people laughed as the girl ran away with Green Bird Woman in close pursuit, swinging the switch repeatedly as she screamed out angry curses. The girl was faster and disappeared beyond the huts to the north. Giving up the chase, Green Bird Woman returned to her cook pots. As the other women laughed and joked around her, her face lost its hard edge and took on its usual warmth.

  Chapter 26

  Calling Crow hurried to the trading place that Atina had designated in the large clearing between Aguacay and the Spanish fort. He had wanted to get there when Father Sun arose, but Green Bird Woman had been cross upon arising and they had fought, making him late. Now Father Sun was high overhead and the day steaming hot.

  Black Snake and his bravos had returned to the village the previous day. They had been talking against the trade with the Spanish and urging others to avoid it. Atina’s insistence that the agreement be carried out held sway, however, and no others dared actively oppose it.

  Calling Crow heard the voices in the distance. He had expected that not many people would come out for the trade initially and he was right. Many in the village still hated or feared the Spanish and would wait to see how it all went. Calling Crow came out into the clearing. Twenty or so people, most of them Spanish, stood beneath the shade of the tall, solitary elm tree out in the center. Calling Crow left the trees and headed toward them.

  The Spanish had placed their trade goods upon blankets spread out on the ground. A few Coosa women with baskets and stone pots full of grain, nuts or oil, looked over the Spanish things. Five Coosa men with rabbits, squirrels and birds slung over their shoulders or hanging from their belts, stood inspecting the Spanish goods. Calling Crow noticed Rain Cloud among them. There was little talk between the Spanish and the Coosa and Calling Crow wondered how long the trade would last. He had hoped that it would decrease the tension and thereby the appeal of Black Snake and his hot-headed young warriors.

  Calling Crow saw two Coosa boys staring in wonder at a black Spanish. The black man stood beside an old white Spanish behind their trade items, pieces of colored cloth and small iron knives. The boys laughed as they talked in low secretive voices. The bolder of the two ran up and touched the black man on the arm to show how brave he was. The black man grabbed at him, but the boy laughed and ran off.

  Calling Crow walked over to Rain Cloud. He had six rabbits tied to his belt and he seemed agitated as he stared at the short Spanish man.

  Calling Crow touched Rain Cloud on the shoulder. Rain Cloud smiled in relief. “Ah, I am glad you are here. I cannot understand this Spanish man and I think he cannot understand me.” Rain Cloud pointed to the blanket on the ground. There were knives and bits of colored glass, beads, a pile of little shell-shaped pieces of me
tal, and some iron nails and buckles. “The small, fat Spanish who can speak some of our language came by and told me that this man wants two of my rabbits in exchange for one of his little talking shells.”

  “Talking Shells?” said Calling Crow.

  “Yes,” said Rain Cloud. He picked up one of the shell shapes and shook it. Calling Crow realized the thing was a bell. He had seen them while a slave on the Spanish island. The Spanish sometimes put them on their horses.

  “It is called a bell,” said Calling Crow. He questioned the Spanish about what Rain Cloud had said. He frowned as he turned to Rain Cloud and said he heard him correctly.

  Rain Cloud’s face grew incredulous. “You mean, despite having many more bells than he could ever possibly require, he will not let me have one for less than two rabbits?”

  Calling Crow nodded. “I told you that the Spanish were strange. They do not think as you or I.”

  Rain Cloud blinked as he pondered the trade. “Well, I suppose I shall give him two then, for I have fallen in love with the little bell.”

  Calling Crow smiled. He headed back across the field. Entering the thick of the forest, he walked the broad trail to keep his rendezvous with Juana in the dream place. He heard a sound and paused near a clump of bushes. Inside, a Spanish man lay with a Coosa woman. The woman’s moans, and the way she held the man, made it clear she was giving herself freely, and so Calling Crow quickly moved away. He had seen this young woman in the village on a few occasions, but he did not know her name. Calling Crow wondered what it was about the Spanish and their women. Why did they always want Indian women?

  Calling Crow walked on. The forest grew thicker and again he sensed a vague presence. He scouted the area, but found no one. As the forest heated up, he could not get the picture of the couple out of his head. Their passion excited him and he grew sad at his own situation. When would Juana come to her senses and leave the Spanish camp. When would they be one again?

  Juana sat on the bank of the pond, fingering the rosary beads Father Tomas had given her. Her mind was troubled as she waited for Calling Crow. She felt torn by her wants. She wanted to please Father Tomas, for he had lifted her up when she was close to drowning in despair after the baby’s death. All this time he had been a constant source of encouragement and love for her. But what he now wanted would not sit well with Calling Crow. Could she possibly convince Calling Crow to do it?

  She looked up at the blue sky through a small opening in the foliage and said a quick prayer. Her life was so complicated now. She wanted to serve God and she wanted her man too. But Calling Crow was so stubborn and proud. Could she have both? Was it possible?

  She sensed his arrival. There may have been a tiny sound; she wasn’t sure. But when she turned, he was there. He seemed to float across the distance between them, extending his hand. Pulling her to her feet, he gave her a small bundle. They embraced She forgot her fears and worries as she looked into his eyes.

  “There is food in there,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “I have come from the trading place,” he said. “Not many people went to trade. Many are still afraid of the Spanish; some hate them and want to make war on them. It is not a good beginning.”

  Juana nodded. “In time the trade will make things better. You should talk to them and tell them that.”

  Calling Crow was silent for a moment. “Fewer are willing to listen now, after what Peralta has done.”

  “Still,” said, hope lighting her face, “you know the Spanish are not going to go away. And even if they did, more would come along. Both peoples must learn how to live together. Perhaps that is what our mission is, to create a middle place where both people can come together.”

  Calling Crow said nothing in response and Juana lay her head against him. “Sometimes I wake up and think that this is all a dream,” she said, “but we really are together.”

  “Of course,” said Calling Crow, “all is as it should be. The spirits have guided us.”

  Juana shook her head. “No, it is God’s work.”

  Calling Crow looked at the tumult of green life surrounding them and shrugged his shoulders. “It is part of the Great Mystery.”

  Juana smiled. “Yes.” She ran her hand along his muscled arm. Her finger came to one of his tattoo scars and she frowned in distaste. “Calling Crow, we cannot go back to this. We have been too long in the Spanish world.”

  He shook his head. “This is right and good. There is no place for you and I in their world.”

  Juana’s smile was hopeful as she said, “As I have said before, you and I will have to create a middle place, a place where both worlds can meet and meld together.”

  Calling Crow frowned. “I don’t think that we can. One of these days I will take you away from here. You don’t belong with the Spanish.”

  She probed a tattoo on his chest with her finger. “And I don’t belong with these people.”

  Calling Crow stiffened.

  Juana brushed his cheek and looked into his eyes. “I belong with you. You are my people, but I will not leave here yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Juana lay her hand on his. “Let us talk no more of that today. I want you to do something that will be good, something that will calm the waters and make our time here more pleasant. Father Tomas has asked me to ask you to bring some of the people to the trading place in two days so that he can talk to them about The Faith.”

  Calling Crow shook his head. “No. I do not want to do it.”

  “Why not?” said Juana, “it would help matters.”

  “Would it?” said Calling Crow. “First they will be told to believe in the Spanish God, and to turn their backs on their own gods. Then they will be told that the way they and their grandfathers have lived is sinful and wrong, and that their legends and stories are bad. One thing leads to another and it always ends up bad. I am sorry, but I cannot help you in this.”

  “I see,” said Juana. Tears came to her eyes.

  “Your tears will not change my mind,” said Calling Crow. He turned away, then turned back to her. “When will all this craziness end? I want you, but you seem to want only to please the priest and do his bidding!”

  “No,” said Juana, “that is not true. I want you too, but I don’t know if it can ever be.”

  “What kind of crazy talk is that?” demanded Calling Crow, “of course it will be.”

  “Go away!” said Juana, and her crying increased.

  Calling Crow left the copse, waiting outside until he heard her leave. With a heavy heart, he trailed her till she was safely through the forest and walking across the clearing to the Spanish camp.

  Chapter 27

  Pedro cursed the weight of the harquebus as he hurried along the trail to keep his meeting with Cotefechi. It had been two days since he had lain with her at the river, after having been introduced by Gregorio. He remembered her smile and her naked beauty, and his heart pounded in anticipation.

  He came out of the balmy shade of the forest into the sunlight of the stream bank. He hurried along the dirt path, his heart beating faster. An exposed root caught his booted foot and he pitched forward, digging the barrel of the harquebus deep into the soft dirt. He frowned as he examined it. Dirt clogged the bore. He looked around at the Eden-like beauty of this place. Then he looked at the angle of the sun. He was almost there. He clipped the glowing match cord, which would ignite the powder, into the firing mechanism and hurried on. He would clean the bore later.

  Pedro saw Cotefechi up ahead. He approached with caution, looking to see if any others were about. She was alone and she looked even prettier than he remembered. He swallowed hard. They sat on the grass. He took a brass hawk’s bell from his pouch. She looked at it in confusion. He shook it and its tiny clear voice delighted her. She took it, shaking it several times.

  Cotefechi got to her feet. Using signs, she indicated that he should wait, that she would be right back. She pushed into the bushes.

  Ped
ro took another hawk’s bell from his pouch as he waited. The little, sand-colored bell caught the sunlight and gleamed. He shook it. Another little bell answered on the other side of the bushes. He smiled as he got to his feet. Again he shook the little bell. The answer came a moment later, tiny, but clear and sweet. He pushed into the bushes. The axe blow caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. He fell to the ground, the bell clutched tightly in his hand. Black Snake and another bravo moved out of the bushes.

  The bravo jerked Pedro to his feet, holding him from behind. Pedro’s heart pounded as Black Snake picked up the harquebus. Black Snake spoke to the other bravo then pointed the harquebus at Pedro. Pedro’s bowels churned as Black Snake’s hand explored the stock and found the trigger. He slowly pulled it back, his eyes big with expectation, and a booming flash of fire and smoke engulfed them. A moment later Pedro realized with wonder that he was still alive. The dirt-clogged bore had saved him.

  Black Snake’s arms and chest were covered with powder burns and his face was a mask of fury. He threw the bent, smoking remains of the harquebus into the river. The bravo behind Pedro twisted Pedro’s arms behind him and he cried out in pain. Black Snake, after having momentarily forgotten Pedro, pulled his club from his belt. Pedro’s scream of terror was cut short as the club cracked into his face.

  The sun traveled halfway across the sky before Pedro again opened his eyes. His vision was blurred by the caked blood in his eyes and for a moment he did not know where he was. He saw something lying in the dirt and recognized it as a hawk’s bell. Remembering, he grabbed the bell and straggled to get to his feet. Something pulled him backward into the water. He realized with horror that el legarto had him by the leg. He managed to grab a half-exposed rock from the mud. Jerking upright, he threw it at the alligator’s snout and it released him, disappearing in an explosive thrashing of water. Pedro staggered as he fought to regain the safety of the bank. He looked behind. The alligator had reappeared and was swimming quickly after him. Pedro grasped a root and was about to pull himself up when he felt the creature seized him again, pulling him back into the river. He screamed, swallowing water as he was pulled under. Gasping for air, his head broke the surface, the sun briefly visible as a small golden ball. Then it was gone and he was plunged again into the cold, quiet, green abyss.