Calling Crow Nation (The Southeast Series Book 3)

by Paul Clayton

  Green Bird Woman came to Calling Crow and put her arms around him. Tears ran down her face and she wiped them away. “I worried so,” she said. “It is a good thing for the Timucua people that you escaped.”

  Calling Crow laughed. He took the bundle of woolen cloth from under his arm and gave it to her. “What do you think?”

  Green Bird Woman brought the new cloth up to her face to examine it closer. She rubbed it between her thumb and forefinger. “It is a fine weave, much tighter than what we do with the bark. But it could use some decoration. Is it from the strange white people?”

  Calling Crow nodded.

  “Our daughter, Bright Eyes, said she thinks the leader of these people is attractive,” said Green Bird Woman. “Imagine.”

  “He is called Samuel,” said Calling Crow.

  Green Bird Woman shook her head. “Bright Eyes had better not let Red Feather hear such talk. He is so fond of her.”

  Calling Crow said nothing.

  Green Bird Woman frowned in mock disgust. “All that hair on the Englishman’s face-- ” She laughed. “She’ll come to her senses soon. How can she find that attractive?”

  Calling Crow pulled her close. “Enough of such talk. Let us lie down together. I want to show you how much I have missed you.”

  Green Bird Woman pulled away from him and went over to the hut’s entryway. She untied the thong that held the skin covering off to the side; the skin flapped into place, closing off the hut from the outside. Green Bird Woman giggled girlishly in the dimness as she pulled her gown over her head.

  Samuel, John and the others sat upon the mats in the center of the large, airy hut, their weapons within arm’s reach. At one end of the structure, a small fire burned in a stone-lined pit. Periodically, old native holy men came in to attend to it and Samuel decided that it served the same purpose as a devotional candle in a church. Aside from the holy men and the women that had brought them food, they had been alone here since Calling Crow left. As night drew near, people, children mostly, occasionally looked in at them from the entryways, but did not venture inside.

  John threw a twig into the fire. “We ought to go back to the ship in the morning, brother. We are too vulnerable here like this.”

  Fenwick, Breuger and Miles looked over at Samuel to see what he would say.

  Samuel said nothing, hoping his brother would drop the subject. He knew the others were afraid, none of them able to sleep, but he judged their situation to be safe.

  A commotion came from outside. Several young men bearing torches came into the building to peer over at them in curiosity.

  John moved slowly toward the musket on the mat.

  “Do nothing,” said Samuel.

  John glowered at him angrily, but then the men went back outside. Muffled conversations in the strange native language wafted into the building for a few moments and the men went away. Samuel thought they would be safe. After all, the native king, Calling Crow, wanted muskets, lots of them. What would he gain by murdering them here for only two muskets? Still, Samuel wished Calling Crow had stayed here with them.

  “Where did the king and his lieutenant go?” said Fenwick, voicing everyone’s concern.

  No one answered him.

  Samuel was visited by a dark thought. He truly believed Calling Crow to be an honorable fellow, but perhaps some treachery had befallen him. Had another, rival lord in the village usurped his power in his absence? Perhaps John was right.

  Samuel looked over at the entryway. There was still three or four hours of night left. They would never be able to get back to the ship in the dark. They must wait for the morning’s light.

  Samuel was about to speak to the others when a boy in a great state of agitation ran into the hut and looked over at them.

  “What does he want?” said Fenwick.

  “Just a look, that is all,” said Samuel.

  They heard voices outside. The sound grew; people were coming. Several young men with bows walked boldly through the entryway. Samuel and the others scrambled to their knees, grabbing their muskets and swords.

  About a dozen young men with bows stared at the Englishmen with a mixture of astonishment and wariness. One of them, a muscled, wild-looking man with an animal pelt draped over his privates, grew agitated and shouted at them angrily and incomprehensibly.

  “What in bloody hell?” said John as he, along with the others, quickly and nervously clipped into the serpentine mechanisms the glowing match cords that would enable their weapons to fire.

  John brought the musket up and pointed it at the men.

  “No,” called Samuel, “wait.”

  The bowmen saw the move as threatening and hung back, but the wild one grew more belligerent. Nocking an arrow into his bow, he advanced on John in an exaggerated stalking walk. John moved slowly forward, aiming the heavy musket at the young man’s chest.

  Samuel put himself between the two. “John, go back.”

  A commotion ensued at the entryway and Calling Crow’s lieutenant and son pushed through the mob. The son yelled at the bowmen and they grew silent. They all seemed in awe of the young man, except for the wild bowman, who continued to stare menacingly at John.

  Calling Crow’s son angrily addressed the wild bowman. From the dark looks on the faces of the others, Samuel could tell it was a grave threat of some kind.

  The bowman’s manner became less threatening, but he would not lower his bow.

  “John,” called Samuel, “get back here!”

  “Not until he puts that bloody bow down.”

  Samuel hoped the son could reason with his bowman, for he knew his brother was beyond reason now.

  Calling Crow’s lieutenant watched the bowman’s angry display, then, evidently having seen enough, pushed through the others and accosted the man. The bowman appeared to be taken aback. Then, with one quick movement, Calling Crow’s lieutenant took the bow out of the other’s hands and broke it loudly over his knee. The bowman’s face collapsed in shame and he rushed from the building.

  Calling Crow’s son came over to Samuel. “How are you and your men?” he said in Spanish.

  “Muy bien, gracias,” said Samuel.

  Calling Crow’s son pointed to the mats. “Sientese, por favor,” he said.

  Samuel turned to his men. “He wants us to sit.” Samuel sat and his men followed his example reluctantly.

  The lieutenant and the son sat across from Samuel. Using Spanish and some signs, the son told Samuel that these men had just returned from a hunt and thought that Samuel and his men were part of the group that had kidnapped Calling Crow. They would not bother the Englishmen anymore, and why didn’t they sleep? Samuel told him that they would and the son and the lieutenant withdrew. Despite the assurances of the two Indians, however, and the great weariness of Samuel and his men, none of them slept. Instead they spent the night warily watching the entryways to the great hall and saying nothing.

  In the morning, young men brought in many more reed mats and lay them down. Three young women brought the Englishmen gourd cups full of a wonderfully hot and refreshing native tea. Afterward, Calling Crow entered, followed by his court, composed mainly of old holy men. One of them, was ancient looking, and carried in on a young man’s back. Samuel thought by his dress and feathered decorations that he was the wizard or conjurer for these people. About twenty young women came into the airy hut. With turtle-shell rattles tied to their feet, they did a kind of stomping dance around the Englishmen and the sound was rhythmic and compelling.

  Next, women brought in wooden platters of roast fish and fowl, corn, beans, fruits, roasted walnuts and divers roots, all excellent of taste, and conch shells and gourd cups full of wonderful native teas made of ginger, sassafras and cinnamon.

  The feasting took several hours and after they had finished, Samuel and his men gave Calling Crow, the king, some knives and iron axes, which he said he would give to his most loyal warriors. More dancing followed and Fenwick, Miles and Breuger smiled broadly
at the goings-on. Even John seemed to relax. Samuel forgot about his capture by the Timucua and his worries of only a few hours earlier. Here were a people he had read about in a book, people who hearkened back to the golden age of antiquity. Yes, they had their share of hot heads, but overall they were a loving and kind people. He was certain he could use his relationship with them to further the cause of commerce and Christianity.

  Chapter 9

  Samuel looked around the small town as he walked along one of the hard-packed dirt streets with Calling Crow at his side. He thought of the complaints of his brother and the others about this place that the Indians had no fine things, no theaters or taverns, no markets or docks, no chessboards, spring clocks or featherbeds. But, Samuel knew, they had no need of them. They had all the food they needed, a comfortable climate, and they seemed genuinely happy and content. The air was filled with the evidence of this-- the occasional smell of roasting meat or boiling vegetables, from inside the huts, the sound of laughing children and the occasional cry of a healthy babe, conversations spoken too softly to be deciphered floating on the hot air. In the compounds on either side, people worked at their daily tasks-- stretching skins for drying, making pots, preparing and storing food.

  Calling Crow stopped and pointed south. “We lived south of here, about a day’s march, but the game began to move on and so we did too.” He pointed to the west. “We have burnt many fields over there-- It brings the deer in to eat the young shoots. And the fishing is very good here. You will enjoy your stay with us.” They walked on.

  Calling Crow paused in front of a newly built hut, the palmetto thatch roof was still green, the dirt floor freshly swept. A pile of firewood was stacked beside the gate. Calling Crow pointed to the entryway. “This will be yours while you are here.”

  Samuel nodded his thanks. He was continually amazed at the generosity of these people. In the streets of his own country there were now many footloose people begging and stealing. The parishes were overburdened taking care of them. But these people did not have that problem. The bounty of their fields and hunts was great and it was shared with the old and the sick. While Calling Crow’s people lacked the knowledge of Christian teachings, in the area of giving they were model Christians. Samuel saw that perhaps the answer to his own country’s problems lay here. If he could establish commerce here, then they could perhaps get financial backing for a colony. England needed a colony in the new world, and given the helpful nature of these people, this was an ideal place.

  “Samuel,” said Calling Crow, “my people and I were wondering why you stay here and your men stay on your ship.”

  Samuel’s eyes narrowed in thought. Not too long ago the others had rowed back to the ship. “They want to be ready if a ship is spotted,” he said, “a Spanish ship they can raid. I pray there will be no ships for I want to conclude our business and go home. Also, while I am here I wish to spend my time with your people in order to learn your language and ways.”

  A messenger ran up to Calling Crow. They spoke briefly and Calling Crow turned to Samuel. Calling Crow had a hint of a smile on his face. “The people are going to play ball now,” he said. “Would you like to join us?”

  Samuel was intrigued. “Yes, I would like that.”

  It was early afternoon and the air had not yet heated up fully. A good breeze came off the sea as Calling Crow and Samuel walked to the field in front of the chokafa. It was in this large, rectangular field that all the ball games and many of the ceremonies were held. A crowd of people had already gathered for the game. After Calling Crow and Samuel arrived, more people came quickly. Samuel was surprised at how many women were in the crowd. Calling Crow waited until the crowd had swelled to over a hundred people, at least half the village.

  Calling Crow pointed to poles set at opposite ends of the field as he explained to Samuel. “We must get the ball to over there; they will try to get it down there.”

  To Samuel’s surprise, all the women were moving to one side of the center line, the men to the other. Someone gave Calling Crow a stuffed skin ball about the size of a melon.

  “Surely we are not going to play against the women?” asked Samuel in amazement.

  “We are,” said Calling Crow, “and a good game it will be.” Calling Crow tossed the ball skyward. Shouting erupted as both sides ran to catch it. Then, like a great wave slamming into a rocky cliff, a mob of women crashed into Samuel and the other men. A matronly woman with braided hair caught the ball. Whooping shrilly, she and her sisters ran for their goal while Samuel and the men laughingly chased after her. Halfway down the field a young man darted into the women’s midst to tear the ball out of the woman’s hands, and the mob reversed direction. Samuel, not being able to run as fast as the men because of his boots, ran at the edge of the men, where the most fleet-footed of the women were now pressing them. The men slowed a bit and soon they ran as one happy, shouting pack, every single sweaty face intent on trying to locate the ball. The crowd stopped and many people attempted to push into the center. Samuel found himself pressed up hard against a comely maiden. It was the same girl who had smiled and laughed at him earlier that day when she passed with some others. He realized that she had deliberately put herself here in front of him and passion rose in him at the feel of her soft warmth. She seemed to know his mind and smiled at him. With an explosion of laughter, the mob broke up in confusion and the girl disappeared. Another round, middle-aged woman now had possession of the ball, a phalanx of women and girls surrounding her protectively. Samuel laughed as he and the pack of men ran after them. Someone behind Samuel tripped him and he tumbled on the grassy field. Calling Crow’s lieutenant, his tastanagi, Red Feather, ran on.

  Samuel pulled off his boots, angry at Red Feather for tripping him. Then he was on his feet and running swiftly. He soon caught up with the men. Putting on a burst of speed, he positioned himself behind Red Feather. He was about to trip him when the crowd suddenly changed direction. Ahead, Samuel saw the pretty woman running with her sisters and forgot about Red Feather. The woman tossed him a look over her shoulder. Samuel smiled and ran as one with the others, not thinking about the ball game or Red Feather. His thoughts were only of the pretty woman running ahead, her laughing eyes and the warmth of her body under the soft, white doeskin gown.

  Chapter 10

  The beautiful blue sky stretched away forever, with only a few small white clouds moving across it to the west. Five native boys followed Samuel, John and Breuger as they walked the dirt street toward the large prayer house that the natives called the chokafa. Samuel looked up at the slowly moving clouds, wondering about what lay to the west. Calling Crow and his son, who was called by the intriguing name of ‘Swordbrought,’ had told him stories of the Mountain People who lived there. There were, however, several other, more interesting stories going around. John and Breuger swore that one day they had seen a black man among a crowd of native people at the far edge of the village. They hurried there, but the man had quietly slipped away before they could find him. And Fenwick had been told by some of the village boys of a white man that lived in the town somewhere. When the boys took him to the man’s house, there was no one there. Samuel had asked Calling Crow about these things and had been told that Calling Crow would explain it all to them today at their chokafa, their meeting house.

  As Samuel and the other two Englishmen approached the now-familiar chokafa sitting on its mound of earth, the boys who had been following them fell back. Samuel and the others headed for the entrance flanked by columns with red and green serpents coiled around them. Samuel paused inside the dim interior, John and Breuger at his side, as their eyes adjusted. Samuel found the cool air inside the big structure refreshing. A bright column of down-pouring light, as wide across as a standing man, illuminated the interior of the chokafa. Calling Crow sat beneath it with Swordbrought and two other men. Samuel saw with amazement that one was indeed black, and that the other appeared to be a white man.

  “I told you,” said John
quietly.

  They walked over and Calling Crow motioned for them to sit. The Spaniard had no beard, evidently being in the habit of plucking his hairs out in the fashion of the natives. He was bare-chested, dressed only in a breechclout, as was the black.

  Samuel, John and Breuger stared at the two men.

  “Buenos dias, “ said the Spaniard. “Yo soy Gregorio.”

  “Buenos dias,” said Samuel. “Yo soy Samuel.” John and Breuger nodded a greeting, as did the black man. “How did you come to be here?” Samuel asked the Spaniard in his own language.

  The man frowned. “There was a war between us and the French settlement. We attacked; they attacked-- There may have been others who escaped, but only Wilfredo and I came here.” He nodded in the black man’s direction.

  “How long has he been here?” Breuger asked Samuel.

  Samuel put the question to the Spaniard in his own language. “Almost sixteen years,” Samuel translated for Breuger and John.

  “Well,” said John, “tell him that his ordeal is over. We will take him back with us. No white man should have to live like this.”

  Samuel looked at the Spaniard. “We will take you with us.”

  The Spaniard shook his head. “No,” he said. “I will stay here.”

  “He wants to stay,” Samuel said to his brother and Breuger.

  John scoffed. “He must have been running around with this lot in the sun too long; it has damaged his brains.” John turned to Breuger. “I’ve seen and heard enough.” He got to his feet and Breuger followed suit. Samuel remained seated, as did Calling Crow and the others. John pointed at the black man and said to his brother. “Tell Calling Crow we’ll be taking the black with us.”