Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  Before Calling Crow could react, the harquebus boomed. Juana moaned and put her hands to her chest. Calling Crow saw blood pulsing between her fingers as she fell backward. Screaming out a war cry, he ran at Black Snake. The Wolf warrior struggled to reload the heavy weapon as Calling Crow bore down on him. Black Snake threw down the thunderstick and pulled his war club. Before he could raise it Calling Crow struck him down dead with his iron axe.

  Calling Crow ran back and knelt beside Juana. The thunderstick had opened a hole in her side. He took her hand and her eyes opened.

  “You are safe,” she said, “thank God.”

  Calling Crow’s eyes grew moist. “Do you hurt?”

  Juana shook her head. “No. It is odd, but I feel no pain.” She tried to smile. “Remember I said we could not go back to the old ways? I’m afraid it is so.”

  Calling Crow shook his head. “Perhaps,” he said, “but it doesn’t matter. We will make the middle place you talked about where both peoples can live.”

  Calling Crow heard a noise behind them and turned to see Father Tomas hurrying down the trail toward them. Breathing noisily, he knelt by Juana’s side and touched her wound. He held her wrist. “I heard the shot,” he said between gasping breaths, “who did this?”

  Calling Crow indicated the body up the trail. “Black Snake. Where is Red Feather?”

  Father Tomas gasped for breath. “He had me hide and then he drew them off. I think he got away. I pray to God he did.” Father Tomas leaned down to look closely at Juana. She had closed her eyes and her breathing was shallow. “Calling Crow, she is very close to death.”

  Calling Crow turned away and said nothing.

  Father Tomas put his face close to Juana’s. “Juana, can you hear me?”

  Juana answered faintly. “Yes, Father.”

  “You know that you will soon be with our Lord Jesus, the son of the One True God, don’t you?”

  Calling Crow turned. He saw Juana nod her head.

  “Juana,” said the priest, “I think I can save the baby, if you want me to try.”

  Before Juana could answer, Calling Crow said, “No. There is a medicine man in my village who can save them. We will go there.”

  The priest looked at him. “It is too far. She will never make it.”

  Calling Crow’s eyes grew hard with anger. “She will make it,” he said.

  “Calling Crow,” said Juana, “the Father is right. You must let him bring out the baby.” She turned to the priest. “Father, go ahead.”

  Father Tomas turned to Calling Crow. “Calling Crow. This is how a great King named Caesar was brought into the world. This child too will be great.”

  Calling Crow looked down the trail and said nothing. His head was filled with noise and pain and he was vaguely aware of Juana and the priest talking. He turned back to them and saw Juana’s swollen brown belly exposed, the priest’s hand on his sword. Horror and revulsion filled him as he remembered Running Wolf’s curse. “No,” he shouted, grabbing the priest’s arm. “Running Wolf said you would kill her!” He pushed the priest, knocking him down.

  Juana called him and he cringed at the faintness of her voice. “Calling Crow, let Father do it. It is the only way.”

  Calling Crow knelt down to her. “No, don’t you see? You will die!” A tear ran down his cheek. “Come with me to the village. Sees Far will help you.”

  Juana shook her head. “No, Calling Crow, there is not enough time. If you don’t let Father do this, the baby will die like our last.”

  Father Tomas knelt next to Juana.

  Calling Crow got to his feet. “Juana, I love you too much. I cannot watch it.” Tears streamed down his face. “I cannot-- ”

  “Calling Crow?”

  Juana’s voice had grown fainter and cut him like a knife. He tried to ignore her.

  “Come here.”

  He went and knelt beside her.

  “Calling Crow, I don’t want to die anywhere but in your arms. Hold me now, for there is little time left to us.”

  Calling Crow cradled her head in his lap. He took her hand in his.

  “Father,” said Juana, her voice full of love for the old priest, “do it now. We are ready.”

  Calling Crow stared into the bushes as the priest cut the baby out. Juana’s hand briefly tightened its grip on his and then went limp. He heard the tearing of cloth. He was numb with pain and sadness. The world had stopped. Then a baby’s cries startled him.

  He looked up. Father Tomas had covered Juana and was wrapping the baby in a thick piece of wool he had cut from his Black Robe. “It is a boy,” he said, handing the crying child to Calling Crow.

  “Juana is in Heaven now,” said Father Tomas. “Calling Crow, now we should look for a stream in which we can baptize the child.”

  Calling Crow was about to answer when they saw three French soldiers hurrying down the trail toward them.

  “Quickly,” said Calling Crow. They got to their feet and plunged into the thick bushes and vines. As they ran the child wailed, telling their pursuers where they were. Soon Father Tomas was gasping for breath. He grabbed Calling Crow’s arm. They could hear the soldiers crashing through the thickets behind them.

  “Calling Crow,” the priest said in a croak, “go on. I will hold them up.”

  Calling Crow paused indecisively.

  Father Tomas pulled his bloody sword from its sheath. “Go! It is our only chance. Go with God!”

  Calling Crow looked into the priest’s face, then turned and ran. A few moments later he heard the clang of swords. He ran on, out of earshot, finally coming to a small game trail. Still the baby wailed out its grief over its mother’s death. In a crouch, Calling Crow ran down the tunnel of the game trail, coming out onto another broad savanna of grassland. He ran through the tall grass, the baby’s cries trailing behind. Upon reaching the forest, the baby stopped its crying and he looked at it anxiously. It was still breathing. He decided it must be exhausted, for it still had not eaten. He looked around and knew he was safe. He raised the baby up in the hot, still air and sang a prayer.

  Here is my child,

  who I shall call Swordbrought,

  come out into his first day.

  I, Calling Crow, have seen many days,

  for that I will offer Emissee, giver of breath,

  sacred corn and smoke.

  See this babe, oh Emissee, to his last days,

  Let his heart be full of the people,

  for our hearts are full of him.

  Guide his footsteps!

  A breeze came up and Calling Crow realized that it was Emissee acknowledging his prayer. The baby began crying again and Calling Crow ran toward the village.

  Later, several people saw him running down the street toward the council house with his bundle, but they said nothing, nor did they approach him. Red Feather was alone in the council house when Calling Crow entered. He ran over.

  “You are safe,” said Red Feather.

  Calling Crow nodded.

  Red Feather looked at the bundle and saw a tiny arm protrude; a hand balled up into a little fist. “Aieyee!” he said, “a babe!”

  Calling Crow nodded. “My son. Juana is dead.”

  “I am sorry,” said Red Feather. He looked at the baby a moment longer and then walked away.

  Calling Crow put the baby down on a bearskin. Its eyes were closed but its little chest rose and fell. Why was it so quiet? he wondered. Was it sick?

  The light coming in the entryway flickered as someone came in. It was Green Bird Woman. She approached with caution and he turned away, blocking the baby.

  She walked up behind him, but he did not turn around to her.

  “I heard you have a baby in here.”

  “Yes,” he said, still not turning to her.

  “What is his name?”

  “I have named him Swordbrought.”

  “Where is the mother?”

  “She is dead.”

  The baby began crying. Its eyes we
re closed, and it moved its tiny arms as if repelling an attacker in its dreams.

  Green Bird Woman came around Calling Crow to see the baby, but he blocked her view.

  “I won’t hurt it,” she said.

  Still, he blocked her.

  “It is hungry,” she said, coming closer.

  Calling Crow did not push her away.

  Green Bird Woman picked up the baby and began rocking it. “It needs to eat.” She put the baby’s mouth to her breast and it began to suck.

  “Do you have milk for it?” said Calling Crow sadly.

  Green Bird Woman scoffed. “Of course not, but he’s not crying anymore is he?” Green Bird Woman started toward the entryway.

  “Where are you going?” Calling Crow asked.

  “I will get Acorn to feed it. Her little boy hardly sucks these days and her tits are fairly bursting with milk.”

  Calling Crow went and stood before her. “Then, where will you take my son?”

  Green Bird Woman frowned. “I will take our son to our house.” She cried, wiping away her tears with her hand. “You said you would give me a boy baby and you have. You are free to go now.”

  “Don’t talk crazy, woman,” said Calling Crow. “I have some things I must do and then I will return.” Calling Crow knew he must go back and find Juana and Father Tomas. He would bury them as the Spanish did their dead.

  Green Bird Woman started out of the council house with Swordbrought. She paused at the entryway. “After you bring your things back, you can help me make a cradleboard for our baby.”

  Epilogue

  Eight years passed, during which time things changed very little. Two Spanish settlers survived the French attack and came to live with the Coosa under Calling Crow. They were Wilfredo, the black, and Gregorio Rojas. Gregorio married the woman who was called Shalee, and Wilfredo, a woman called Fern.

  After the destruction of New Castile, the Spanish settled further south in the lands they called Florida, and many of the native peoples that lived there began moving north. A small band of Timucua came to live with the Coosa in the village of Aguacay. Other displaced people chose to raid the villages they came upon as they moved north, and there was sporadic fighting.

  One day a party of Timucua bravos attacked the village of Aguacay. Three Coosa bravos were killed. The attack occurred at full day while the women and men were working in their fields, clearing and planting. A number of boys who had been playing ball outside the palisade were wounded in the attack, Swordbrought among them. An arrow had pierced his upper arm.

  Calling Crow was in the council house when the men brought Swordbrought and the others in to be ministered to. Despite the boy’s wound, Calling Crow was glad to see him for he could see Juana’s face in his features. Swordbrought sat before Calling Crow waiting, as a raiding party prepared to leave.

  “They have given us crying blood,” said Calling Crow to the assembled bravos, “and that must be made right.”

  The bravos shouted out their war cries as they waved their lances over their heads.

  Calling Crow raised his arms for silence. “The three men they killed can no longer work in the fields. These three men can no longer catch game from the forests to feed their women and children. Bring back three captives and we will give them the choice of taking these men’s places here or death. Go!”

  The bravos ran toward the entryway.

  Green Bird Woman entered the council house and hurried over to Swordbrought. She stood behind him, rubbing her hands together. Her obvious concern moved Calling Crow. She was a good mother to the boy. Despite the loss Calling Crow still felt for Juana, a loss that could never be erased from his heart, he loved Green Bird Woman very much and she was a good wife to him.

  “The arrow will have to be removed,” said Green Bird Woman.

  “I will do it,” said Calling Crow, approaching the boy. He broke off the sharp shell point and pulled the arrow out as quickly as he could. The boy blanched at the pain, but did not cry out. This pleased Calling Crow. The boy’s uncle, Red Feather, was raising him well.

  Much blood ran down Swordbrought’s arm and the boy bravely ignored it. Calling Crow wrapped a soft doe skin around the wound, stanching the flow. As Calling Crow worked, he was reminded of his recurring dream of the flow of blood. Sees Far had been right about his staying here. Everything was as it should be.

  Calling Crow looked at Swordbrought and the boy smiled. Now Calling Crow knew that Swordbrought would grow up to be the strong young man that Calling Crow would leave with the tribe, with when one of the big ships bore him away on his strange, mystery journey.

  Calling Crow wondered when he would go, and where the ship would take him. In the meantime, he had a good wife and a strong son. The hunting was good and the corn tall and plentiful. Ho! It was good!

  Make sure you read the other books in the series:

  Calling Crow (Book One of the Southeast Series)

  Calling Crow Nation (Book Three of the Southeast Series)

  Also, see my latest historical:

  White Seed: The Untold Story of the Lost Colony of Roanoke

  And my novel about the American war in Vietnam:

  Carl Melcher Goes to Vietnam

  And, coming in 2011:

  The Blue World and Other Stories