Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  Juana nodded her assent and Calling Crow left.

  Halfway back to the village, Calling Crow paused in a small clearing. Ahead of him the slash pines of the forest rose thin and straight, a beautiful confusion of green saw grass and light brown cinnamon ferns at their bases. Something moved. He crept forward, keeping low. Something large rooted about, a bear perhaps? He crept closer and peered from behind a bush. A Spanish horse with blood on its flank nibbled at the ferns and grass. Still saddled, its bridle hung to the ground.

  Calling Crow moved into the open and approached the beast with stealth. When it saw him, it began nervously moving away. Calling Crow called to it the way he had heard the Spanish do a long time ago when he had been their slave. The horse stopped. Calling Crow took the bridle drew and inspected the wound. It was not bad and had already stopped bleeding. He stroked the horse’s head. The animal lost its fear of him and he led it in the direction of the village, all the while talking to it in a soothing voice. Calling Crow stopped at the first clearing he came to. He gripped the horn of the saddle, and in one smooth motion, pulled himself up onto the animal’s back. The horse moved sideways slightly and Calling Crow thrilled to its power. He remembered the many sights of the Spanish riding their horses during his captivity. He remembered how they told the beasts what they wanted by pulling on the reins and prodding with their booted feet. He did the same and was filled with joy as the horse obeyed. He rode it at a slow gait toward the village.

  Several boys saw him and ran for the safety of the palisade. Heads appeared above the timbers as people watched him in awed silence. Recognizing him, a shouting started up and people came out of the entrance.

  Red Feather approached as Calling Crow rode the horse at a walk toward Green Bird Woman’s house.

  “What is this creature?” said Red Feather in awe as he trotted alongside.

  “It is called a horse,” said Calling Crow. “It got away from the Spanish soldiers and I captured it. I shall keep it.”

  “Aieyee!” said Red Feather. “It is a beautiful animal, and it carries you so effortlessly.”

  Calling Crow nodded. “Have Black Snake and his bravos returned?”

  Red Feather shook his head. “All of his men are gone now. Someone said they went to make war on the Yamasee.”

  Calling Crow dismounted at Green Bird Woman’s house. She was not there and he tied the horse to a drying rack where it cropped the grass hungrily.

  Green Bird Woman ran up with two other women. She approached Calling Crow and the horse while the other women held back. “You are back!” she said. “I was so worried.”

  Calling Crow nodded.

  “You were hurt,” she said.

  Calling Crow glanced at his wound. “There was fighting, but it is a slight wound and it has been tended to. How are you?”

  Green Bird Woman nodded.

  “And Bright Eyes?” added Calling Crow.

  Green Bird Woman smiled. “She is well, thanks to you.”

  Calling Crow indicated the horse. “He is a fine beast, is he not?”

  Green Bird Woman frowned. “Come inside. I have some food for you.”

  The next day Calling Crow prepared to leave the village. He took his bow and quiver from the wall and told Green Bird Woman to leave the horse tied in the grassy patch next to the palisade wall.

  “Where are you going?” she asked in a worried voice.

  “I have something to do at the Spanish fort.”

  Green Bird Woman’s face grew dark. “Are you leaving me?”

  Calling Crow felt sad because he knew that soon he would have to leave her. “I will be back,” he said. He walked out of the hut and headed for the palisade entrance.

  ***

  Calling Crow looked deep into Juana’s eyes as he lay beside her. Her belly was distended and now showed the pregnancy. This little happiness helped to hold at bay the darkening cloud he saw coming. Something crawled across the back of his neck and he reached up to brush it away. Juana laughed like a mischievous child and held a sprig of grass in front of his face. He smiled at her playfulness, then frowned. Someone was approaching. He got to his feet and nocked an arrow into his bow. Motioning to Juana, they crawled into the thicket and hid.

  A young Spanish man from New Castile made a racket as he pushed into the thicket. He knelt at the pond as Calling Crow watched. The man seemed greatly disturbed.

  The man cried, “Why the children? Why did they insist we do it?” He moaned and buried his face in his hands. He looked around, as if sensing another presence. Seeing no one, he turned his tear-smeared face back to the water of the pond. “I must wash it out!” he said, taking off his doublet and plunging it into the water.

  The man repeatedly plunged the garment into the water, wringing it and inspecting it. Finishing, he got to his feet and ran out of the copse.

  Calling Crow led Juana back into the dream place. They said nothing as thoughts of the previous day’s bloodshed came back to them. “Soon it will be Christmas,” said Juana after a while.

  “What is that?”

  “The birthday of Jesus, the son of God.”

  Calling Crow nodded. They sat without speaking for a while longer and then they parted.

  ***

  Calling Crow sensed that something was wrong as he approached the palisade. He heard people running and shouting on the other side of the timbers. Coming out of the entrance, he saw a crowd of men and boys in the distance running around one of the huts. Then he saw his horse. A froth of bloody spittle hung from the creature’s mouth and it was stuck all over with arrows, like a porcupine’s quills. The men and boys continued to chase after it. With a heavy heart, Calling Crow ran to the horse, but it ran past him, blind with terror. He grabbed the first man to run by and threw him to the ground. The others stopped, holding back to see what would happen.

  “I will kill the next one of you who goes near the beast,” Calling Crow shouted.

  The men watched him without moving. He turned and ran in the direction the horse had taken.

  Calling Crow found it at the far end of the village where it lay against the palisade wall. Its side rose and fell, its breath rattling out. Calling Crow was very sad as he knelt down beside it. Green Bird Woman ran up, but kept a ways back.

  “What happened?” said Calling Crow.

  “I’m not sure,” said Green Bird Woman. “Someone let it loose and then I heard people chasing it. It is just as well; it is a bad Spanish thing.”

  Calling Crow turned to her in anger. “This four-legged is good. Just because he came from the Spanish does not make him bad.” He could see that his words had no effect on her. “Leave me,” he said.

  Calling Crow pulled an arrow out of the horse’s neck. He rubbed its side and spoke to it softly, attempting to calm it. It gasped mightily for breath as its life ran out.

  Red Feather arrived with Sees Far on his back. He put him down beside Calling Crow and they laid the old man’s hand on the horse’s head so he could get a sense of it.

  “I will sing it a medicine song,” said Sees Far, “so it can find its way to the other world. It will be waiting for you, Calling Crow, when you pass over one day. Then you can ride the beast again.”

  Sees Far shook a tortoise shell rattle as he sang. Calling Crow stared into the glossy black eye of the dying horse. Should he take Juana away from this place? Should he stay here with these people? Calling Crow thought he saw something in the horse’s eye, a ship, fires-- Then the horse shuddered and a milky film covered the eye, cutting off the vision.

  Chapter 40

  It was close to midnight in mid-March, three and a half months since the French caravel had outrun the pursuing Spanish ships. Now, in the port town of Dieppe in the seaside province of Normandie, it and another, larger three-masted caravel, nestled against the stone quay like massive dark swans. The thick hawsers holding the ships groaned as the ships rose and fell on the swells.

  Across the stone road of the quay, golden lamp lig
ht shone from the glass windows of a dozen stone taverns interspersed between as many warehouses. At the end of the quay, the stone jetty curved outward like a giant arm thrown out to protect the ships from the rolling ocean. In the cold night air, a gang of men rushed about, loading the closest ship. In shifting pools of torch light, they carried loads of food and weapons up the planks, their boots clomping hollowly. Near the prow of the ship, three men trudged inside a large wooden drum, slowly turning it with the weight of their bodies. The drum wound a hawser round its outer rim, which, in turn, ran up the length of the wooden crane and through a set of pulleys, and back down. Not far away, a massive black cylinder inched up to the ship as the man-powered crane turned. Brigadier General Luis Gaston and one of his lieutenants, Henri Montaign, stood against the wall of a tavern and watched the operation.

  “Mon Dieu,” said Montaign, the younger of the two, as he watched, “such a gun will pay the Spanish back doubly for their butchery.” He turned to his commanding officer. “Sir, when did the guns arrive?”

  “Two days ago,” said Gaston. “They are German, and can throw a two hundred pound iron or stone shell over a mile.”

  Young Montaign’s soft face frowned as he imagined the terror the guns would cause the Spanish colonials.

  When the gun was aboard the ship, Gaston and Montaign moved off toward the warehouse. They came upon six men lying on some hay bales that would later be loaded for the horses. They were the survivors of the Spanish attack on Fort Caroline. Jacques Dumarr, the nearest, got to his feet. The others were asleep. Jacques bowed slightly, his face gaunt, his beard and hair in need of a trim.

  Lieutenant Montaign indicated Jacques to the General. “Sir, this is Jacques Dumarr. He was an assistant to the colony’s Governor.”

  General Gaston nodded a greeting and again Jacques bowed.

  “I understand you are going back with us,” said General Gaston.

  Jacques nodded. “Oui, General. We all want to go.”

  “I am sorry about your family,” said Gaston. “I was told that the Spanish killed your wife and son.”

  Jacques blinked as if in great pain, avoiding the general’s eyes. “They killed my wife, General. My son died earlier-- of a fever.”

  Gaston placed his hand sympathetically on Jacques’ shoulder. “Chin up, man. You shall soon have your revenge.” He turned to Lieutenant Montaign. “Where is the savage?”

  Montaign pointed to a man lying off by himself. His long hair was black as night.

  Jacques said softly, “His name is Eneyah and he is of the Yamasee people. He is very loyal to France.”

  General Gaston raised his eyebrows with interest as he nodded. “Good.” He walked on and Montaign followed. When they were out of earshot of Jacques, Gaston said, “They look perilously unhealthy. Will they be able to survive the voyage?”

  Montaign frowned. “They were all half-starved and will need time to heal properly. The surgeon said that, if fed well, they will mend in two or three months’ time. We should arrive at the colony in, say, two, two and a half months, if the winds are favorable.”

  Gaston and Montaign fell silent. After a while a rhythmic sound came from the distance. It became recognizable as the tramp of a great many marching feet.

  “The troops are here,” said Montaign in wonder.

  “Oui,” said Gaston with pride, “the instrument of our terrible revenge. They have marched all night.”

  Both men turned. A moment later the soldiers came down the road, marching in lockstep ranks. The workmen moved out of their way as they halted and formed up in orderly ranks.

  Chapter 41

  In the lands of the Coosa, the blustery storms of winter gave way to the warm placid days of spring. Atina, the cacique, became sick and slowly died, lingering until summer’s arrival, long enough to thoroughly tire out the women of the village who formally and ritually wailed out their sadness at his passing.

  Sees Far helped Atina prepare for his journey. The day before he died, Atina made known his desire that the council of old men consider Calling Crow when they met to pick a new cacique.

  After Atina’s body was taken out of the village and hidden, the council met. The council house filled and those who could not get in waited outside. They pressed their ears to the cane-thatched walls and peered through its cracks as they listened to the oratory, hoping for a glimpse of the speakers.

  Red Feather, who was now recognized as a skilled orator, nominated Calling Crow to lead the village. With great eloquence, he emphasized Calling Crow’s wisdom, recounting many of his deeds since he had come to live among the Coosa. Red Feather was followed by others who were positive in their assessments of Calling Crow. Toward evening, two Hawk bravos, Goes-To-War and Shining Lake, spoke with passion of their objections to having an outsider lead the tribe. Goes-To-War reminded the gathering that there were other bravos who were against the nomination, notably Black Snake and the Wolf bravos, who were off raiding the Yamasee. Although there was a sizable minority of bravos present who agreed with Goes-To-War and Shining Lake, their objections were swept away in the flood of favorable oratory that followed. The talk went on all night and just after the sun came up, consensus was reached. Calling Crow would be the new cacique.

  A runner led Calling Crow into the council house, after which he was formally installed in an elaborate dressing ritual. After Calling Crow took his seat before the Old Men, the people began filing out of the great hall. Soon the crash of shattering pottery could be heard all over the village as people threw their old pots to the ground and replaced them with new ones that had been made in the last few days. Every fire in the village was extinguished, the fire pits cleaned and allowed to cool. At full day, a young man exited the council house with a torch lit by Calling Crow. The man visited each hut, lighting the new fires with the cacique’s torch. Feasting and dancing followed. Later in the day, Calling Crow walked the streets, visiting the people and accepting their good will. He marveled at his life and how he had gone from being a cacique as a young man, to a slave, and now, back to a cacique again. He thought about Juana and Green Bird Woman, and about how he would soon make one happy, while hurting the other. Then he put these thoughts to rest. His spirit guide had led him along this path. He would continue to walk it.

  The two Hawk bravos, Goes-To-War and Little Bear, staggered as they approached the village. Goes-To-War fell on his buttocks and Little Bear roared with laughter. The guards looking down on them from the ramparts of the palisade frowned in bewilderment. “Perhaps the hot sun has driven them mad,” said one guard. “Perhaps they have been possessed by evil spirits,” said another. “Only that could explain their crazy behavior.”

  The two men entered the village and a small crowd of curious people followed them. Goes-To-War looked around and scowled at them. Then his face took on the look of one who carried a great secret. Little Bear assumed the same look and both men broke out laughing. Some people frowned in disapproval, while others smiled in amusement.

  “What has happened to you two?” called out an old man

  Goes-To-War stopped and Little Bear staggered on further until he realized his friend had stopped. He came back to Goes-To-War.

  Goes-To-War held up a bag shaped like an animal’s bladder. It was wet and evidently full of some liquid. “The Spanish hairfaces gave us what they call wine in return for some deer skins. When you drink it, it makes you happy.”

  Little Bear smiled and nodded in agreement at Goes-To-War’s words. The crowd broke out into noisy speculation.

  An angry young woman challenged the bravos. “Cacique has forbidden us to drink wine.”

  Goes-To-War glared at her. “Cacique is dead.”

  The woman was about to answer when a Hawk bravo called, Alligator, pushed past her and up to Goes-To-War. “Let me try some, brother,” he said.

  Goes-To-War paused. Squinting, he looked at the man closely. Recognizing him, he handed him the bag.

  Alligator put the skin bag to his l
ips and tilted his head back. Finishing, he screwed up his face and wiped his lips. “I feel nothing,” he challenged.

  Another bravo grabbed for the skin bag in Alligator’s hand and it fell. The liquid gurgled out like thin blood, staining the earth red.

  Goes-To-War screamed in rage and stuck Alligator in the face with his club. Alligator collapsed in a heap and the crowd erupted with cries and screams. Women knelt to Alligator as several men wrestled Goes-To-War to the ground and bound his arms behind him.

  “Aieyee,” said a young woman, getting to her feet, “Alligator is dead!”

  The crowd grew angry and crowded closer around Goes-To-War.

  The young woman pointed to Little Bear. “Bind that one also. He, too, was drinking the Spanish wine.”

  “Yes,” said a young man, “we must bring them before Cacique and the council of old men. They will judge them.”

  The people crowded into the council house. Stern-faced bravos guarded the entryways as the accused and witnesses faced Calling Crow and the council.

  Calling Crow appeared calm as he listened to the woman tell the story, but inwardly, he was very angry. He knew there was a sizable minority of bravos that resented his appointment as cacique. These men knew that wine was forbidden; yet they had knowingly taken it from the Spanish? O, had the Spanish enticed them to take it?

  When the woman finished, Calling Crow looked over at the two bravos. Little Bear’s face was taut with fear, but Goes-To-War looked haughty and unafraid.

  “Goes-To-War,” said Calling Crow, “how did you get the wine?”

  “The cacique of the Spanish, the one with all the black hair on his face, gave it to us.”

  “We must punish the Spanish!” someone shouted.

  Calling Crow held up his hand. “But surely you knew Cacique had forbidden us to drink wine.”

  Goes-To-War made no attempt to hide the venom in his voice. “Yes, but only at your behest.”

  Calling Crow’s anger at the big bravo grew, but he remained calm. A cry and clamor to attack Spanish Town erupted. The people watched him closely. This was the first test of his authority. He was fortunate that Black Snake and the Wolf bravos were not here to exploit it. He must act swiftly and decisively.