by Paul Clayton
Samuel looked back to see Calling Crow facing his tearful wife as some other women tried to console her.
“Why do you go back?” said Green Bird Woman. “Send some of the younger braves.”
Calling Crow knew he would never know peace if he did not go back. “I will be back,” he said to her.
“Calling Crow,” Green Bird Woman said sadly. “Once the Spanish took you away and made you their slave. Don’t go!”
“Green Bird Woman.” Calling Crow’s frown revealed his concern. “Take heart. We will be warmed by many more fires before we part.”
Green Bird Woman smiled bravely. “Yes. You are right.” She wiped away her tears with her hand. Calling Crow waited a moment and then they embraced and stepped apart.
“Be brave, my love,” Green Bird Woman said. She turned away.
Calling Crow walked over to where old Sees Far sat on the side of the trail.
“Is that you, Calling Crow?” said the ancient medicine man in his hoarse whisper.
“Yes, Grandfather. It is I.”
Sees Far smiled. “Come close.”
Calling Crow knelt and Sees Far waved a smoldering bundle of tobacco leaves at him, wafting the smoke over him. “Just as the black crow cannot be seen at night,” chanted the old medicine man, “so you shall be invisible to the Timucua people.”
Calling Crow chanted a song to summon his spirit guide and then he got to his feet. He motioned to Fox-Disappears and the returned brave called Sleepy Eye. The three men raised their lances to the pale disc of the sun as they cried out their war cries. They ran back down the trail.
From where they hid themselves, Calling Crow, Fox-Disappears and Sleepy Eye could not see Coosa Town, but the thick cloud of black smoke rising from it drifted over them. Ashes fell down through the tree leaves like a strange, warm snow. They listened to the distant screams of the Timucua braves, wild and drunk with the euphoria of violence. Calling Crow saw no Spanish and he decided that they must have already taken to their ship, leaving the Timucua to spend their rage on the abandoned town.
Calling Crow motioned the others to follow him and they moved closer to the river. They saw several groups of braves across the water, all of them with bundles and pots taken from the town, some of them wearing extra layers of skin garments they had taken. Calling Crow saw no evidence of Red Feather and the other missing braves, however. They followed the river in the direction of the sea. At the place where the river bent, where it was shallow enough to cross, they spotted a group of five Timucua braves standing on the opposite riverbank talking.
“Look,” said Fox-Disappears, “back in among the trees there is something.”
Calling Crow peered at the distant tree line. Just inside the darkness of the forest there appeared to be at least three more men. “Let’s go closer.”
Staying under the cover of some stunted dogwood trees, they crept closer. Calling Crow motioned the other two to stop. There, about one hundred paces away in the trees, Red Feather, Little Bear and another young brave were tied up to some trees. Dark bruises covered Red Feather’s face and he sagged against the cords. Little Bear stood erect, staring ahead angrily through badly swollen eyelids. The other brave’s head hung and much dried blood covered his chest. Calling Crow thought he was already dead.
Calling Crow motioned to Fox-Disappears and Sleepy Eye. They backtracked, then crossed the river. Nocking arrows into their bows, they hugged the stunted trees and vines along the muddy bank as they crept closer. At Calling Crow’s signal, they released their arrows and two of the Timucua fell dead. Calling Crow and the others screamed out their war cries and ran at the three startled braves who were left. Fox-Disappears struck one Timucua in the head, killing him. Calling Crow killed another brave before he could retrieve his axe. Sleepy Eye ran to engage the third Timucua as Calling Crow and Fox-Disappears ran over to cut the men down from the trees.
Calling Crow cut Red Feather free as Sleepy Eye continued fighting wildly with the other Timucua. Red Feather stumbled weakly and Calling Crow put his arm around him to support him. Fox-Disappears cut Little Bear free. Fox-Disappears then cut the third brave’s cords and he fell down dead.
Little Bear shook his shoulders, slapping his arms and wrists to bring the blood back into them. He took a war axe from one of the dead Timucua and ran back to where Sleepy Eye was fighting. He hit the Timucua on the back of the head and he fell dead. “I am sorry,” he said to the surprised Sleepy Eye, “but he abused me so much I could not help myself.”
Sleepy Eye, his sweaty chest heaving after his long fight, eyed the big brave angrily, but he was too spent to say anything.
“Are there any more alive?” Calling Crow asked Red Feather.
“No,” Red Feather said weakly, “all dead.”
Calling Crow was about to ask Little Bear the same question when four more Timucua burst out of the cover of the trees, screaming out their war cries. Calling Crow let go of Red Feather and turned to meet one of them. The brave used his momentum to knock Calling Crow down. The man pulled his knife and leapt. Small, desperate battles raged around Calling Crow as he fought to keep the Timucua’s knife away. The brave was very powerful and Calling Crow was still stunned. They fought furiously over the knife, neither one giving ground. Calling Crow said a heartfelt prayer to his spirit guide. Aieyee! He had come all this way. He must take his men back with him. Finally, he found the strength he needed to turn the Timucua’s knife around and into the warrior’s chest. The man’s blood spurted out and he lay still.
Calling Crow sat up and looked around. Red Feather was unscathed by this latest attack, but still unable to get to his feet. Sleepy Eye and the man he had been fighting both lay dead or dying. Fox-Disappears and a Timucua were still fighting with drawn knives and Little Bear sat on the ground in a stupor. Calling Crow was getting to his feet when a Timucua brave appeared under a tree not twenty paces away. He released his arrow.
“Aieyee!” Little Bear’s large form lumbered out of Calling Crow’s peripheral vision and into the arrow’s path. Calling Crow heard it go into Little Bear with a thud. Little Bear groaned, but continued charging forward, his axe held high in a massive hand. The surprised Timucua pulled another arrow from his quiver, but was too slow. Little Bear’s first blow knocked him to his knees, his second, killing him.
Little Bear turned. The arrow protruded from his thorax and a froth of blood bubbled out with every breath he took.
Calling Crow helped the big man sit down against a tree. Fox-Disappears came up to them, breathing heavily, his arm supporting Red Feather.
Calling Crow knelt beside Little Bear. “Can you walk, brother?”
Little Bear shook his head. He pointed to the opposite bank of the river. Ten or so Timucua braves ran along the muddy bank.
“They haven’t seen us,” said Little Bear in a hoarse whisper. “You must go.”
Calling Crow lay his hand on the big man’s shoulder. “The Great Spirit has witnessed your bravery, Little Bear. You have earned an eagle’s feather. I will bring it to you myself when I enter the netherworld.”
Little Bear nodded then looked with worry in the direction of the approaching Timucua.
Carrying Red Feather between them, Calling Crow and Fox-Disappears moved back into the cover of the trees. Despite Red Feather’s weakness, they moved quickly along the wide trail, away from the scene of the fighting. The sun had reached its zenith, and Calling Crow calculated that they could reach the ship before sunrise if there was no more fighting.
Several hours later the trail turned, running parallel with a long stretch of sandy beach. Calling Crow and Fox-Disappears left Red Feather in a copse of bushes and went out onto the beach. Breathing heavily, they looked up and down.
“Perhaps we should take the beach,” said Fox-Disappears.
Calling Crow nodded. “Yes. We can go faster. Then when it gets dark we will go back into the forest. Come on.”
Fox-Disappears did not move.
�
�What is it?” said Calling Crow.
“We’re being followed.”
Bright Eyes sat in the sand on the windy beach with the others, giving herself up to her exhaustion after their long walk. An occasional gull cried overhead and the sea rumbled and sighed serenely. John-Who-Listens slept in a basket next to her. Around them, some of the people were very sad and cried at having had to flee their town. Most seemed resolved to what had happened. But, Bright Eyes guessed, like her, they must have doubts deep down in their hearts about what lay ahead. Placing their trust in the English had been hard enough for them when their leader Calling Crow was among them. But now that he was gone, they must be very worried.
Bright Eyes was. She thought about the story that had quickly circulated just before Calling Crow and Fox-Disappears went back for the others with Sleepy Eye, the story about what Sees Far had said about not seeing Calling Crow again. Aieyee! Did he really say that? How could they set off on such a risky trek without Calling Crow to guide them? It was unthinkable.
One of the braves sitting near Bright Eyes got to his feet and pointed at the water. She got up and turned to look. Samuel was returning in his boat to take the next group out to the ship. The sight of him cheered her, but not enough to dispel her worry completely. She turned and saw Green Bird Woman watching the place where the trail had brought them out to the beach. She was waiting for Calling Crow to step out of the forest. Bright Eyes thought of her father far away somewhere, trying to bring back the tall, sad-faced Red Feather and the others. The image of her former suitor’s face made her sad. She looked over at the approaching boat. Samuel waved.
Aieyee! She prayed. Great Spirit, help me. I am so confused. As if in answer, she heard her baby cry. She went over and knelt down to him. His brave, insistent cries blotted out all her confusion and sorrow. She leaned closer to speak to him and he settled back into sleep.
Samuel called to her. He wanted her to get in the boat. She picked up her baby and walked over. Green Bird Woman continued to stare at the trail.
“Mother,” Bright Eyes said.
Green Bird Woman did not hear her.
Bright Eyes placed her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It is time to go to the ship.”
Green Bird Woman turned to her with sadness. “I won’t leave here without him.”
Bright Eyes knew her mother meant this. She had to get her on the ship.
Then maybe Samuel could help her. “Mother,” said Bright Eyes, “you must spend the night on the ship. It is safer. Then you can come back again tomorrow.”
Green Bird Woman nodded reluctantly. Bright Eyes took her hand and they stepped into the boat. The Englishmen pushed it out into the surf.
Chapter 45
Calling Crow and Fox-Disappears hurried along the beach, Red Feather supported between them. They paused, and Fox-Disappears looked back. With Red Feather blocking his view, Calling Crow could not see. “How many are following us?” he said.
“Strange,” said Fox-Disappears, “only one man. He is very far away, however. We could easily lose him in the forest when it starts to get dark.”
“No,” said Calling Crow. “You take Red Feather and go on. I will stay. It is me he wants.”
“Calling Crow,” Red Feather said weakly. He tried to say something, but pain and exhaustion overcame him and his head hung limply.
Fox-Disappears hesitated, looking at Calling Crow expectantly.
“Go quickly,” said Calling Crow. “Tell them not to wait for me.”
Fox-Disappears hoisted Red Feather over his broad shoulder. He looked once more at Calling Crow and then hobbled away under the weight of Red Feather, melding into the shade of the forest.
Calling Crow walked down toward the sea. He spotted the tiny figure away in the distance. Waves crashed and sighed as Calling Crow sang a medicine song. “I am the anger of my people,” he sang. “I shall strike down my enemies and lead my people to freedom.”
The sun began to dip behind the trees. By the time it was gone, the figure was only a bow shot away.
Calling Crow pulled his iron axe from his sash and waited.
Mantua slowed to a trot and then stopped. He pulled his war club from his belt and faced Calling Crow. “I prayed you would wait and give me a fight.”
Calling Crow faced him, “Despite the cowardly things you have done, I will give you a warrior’s death.”
Mantua laughed. “I don’t think so, Grandfather. It is I who shall bring your long journey to an end.” Mantua lunged.
The two men fought hatefully, but with great skill, jabbing their lances, parrying each other’s blows, their swinging axes blurring as they whistled through the afternoon air. Grunting and cursing, they closed to deliver their blows, then sprang quickly apart. The younger Mantua pressed Calling Crow, moving him back toward the forest. Mantua’s club whipped over Calling Crow’s head and he ducked and rolled out of the way as a shower of leaves and debris rained down. Calling Crow lunged, swinging hard at Mantua’s head, but his foot caught on a root and he lost his balance. In that instant, Mantua jabbed with his lance. The flint point went into Calling Crow’s side.
Calling Crow’s eyes narrowed in fiery pain as Mantua cried out with joy. “There will be many more of them,” he boasted. “I want this to last a long time.”
Calling Crow could feel his strength beginning to run out of him. Mantua feinted with his lance and swung his axe in a crushing roundhouse. Calling Crow’s lance cracked in half as he deflected the blow. He threw the useless lance away as Mantua smiled and pressed his attack. Calling Crow prayed to his spirit guide for help as Mantua continued to back him up. Calling Crow knew that if he didn’t do something now he would soon be dead. Long ago, he had created this iron axe that was in his hand to lead his people to freedom. While still a slave, he had watched the Spanish priests as they made iron. Then, after winning his freedom, he had summoned all he had seen, praying as the priests had prayed, and made this thing. Now all must come to fruition. He put all his prayers into this thing, and threw it with all his strength. As if it had wings, it flew the distance between them so quickly that Mantua did not react. It struck him on the nose with a thud. Stunned, the Timucua chief dropped his own axe, but managed to keep his feet. Before he could recover, Calling Crow pulled his knife and ran at him. They fell to the ground. Mantua’s face ran with blood, but he held Calling Crow tightly, trying to buy a few seconds until his senses returned. Calling Crow felt himself weakening. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. He heard a tearing sound and a sickening realization washed over him; Mantua had ripped away his medicine pouch!
Calling Crow’s strength flared with rage and he broke out of the younger man’s grip. He plunged his knife deep into Mantua’s chest and the big man shuddered and died.
Calling Crow pushed him away and sat up. He grabbed for his medicine pouch, but the dead man held it firmly in his grip. Calling Crow took his knife from Mantua’s chest. He would have to cut the man’s hand off.
Before he could do it, he heard shouting. Getting to his feet, he went farther out onto the beach. The sun had set and the sky was blood-red. A long ways down the beach ten or more Timucua braves ran in his direction. They had not seen him yet. They would be the advance party for a much larger group. He must get to the ship and warn them. He must go.
He went back to Mantua and again tried to remove the pouch. The hand would not release it. The shouting grew louder, closer. Calling Crow staggered into the forest.
In a large patch of shade, Bright Eyes sat on the wooden deck of the ship. She looked over at her mother. Like many others, Green Bird Woman stood at the rail and stared at the trail head. Shaking her head sadly, Bright Eyes left John-Who-Listens with her friend Owl-Woman and walked over to Green Bird Woman. She stood in silence beside her.
“John-Who-Listens has slept through all of this,” she said to her mother. “I think he must have been very tired before we left the town. Perhaps it was the drumming and singing.”
B
right Eyes realized her mother wasn’t listening. Instead, Green Bird Woman stared at the shore. Bright Eyes followed her look. Two tiny figures had come out of the forest and now stood on the beach. People began shouting and a moment later the Englishmen departed in their boat to pick them up.
Later, Bright Eyes crowded around the rail with the others as the boat pulled alongside the ship. Fox-Disappears climbed up as some others helped Red Feather over the rail. People cried and shouted.
Green Bird Woman cried out to them, “Where is Calling Crow?”
Bright Eyes pushed forward to listen to what was said.
Fox-Disappears went to Green Bird Woman. “He stayed. There was someone following us and he stayed to fight him. He said not to wait for him.”
“Aieyee!” Green Bird Woman turned away tearfully. Bright Eyes went to her to console her, but it was no use. Her mother was deep in sorrow and Bright Eyes couldn’t get through to her.
Just before dark, Bright Eyes spotted Sees Far on the back of the brave who was called Porcupine. She thought again of the story. What had Sees Far really said? Maybe someone had misinterpreted his words. She decided to offer Sees Far some food. He must be hungry after all of this, and afterward he might tell her what he had said earlier. She called over to the brave.
The brave called Porcupine turned to her.
“I have some food for him,” Bright Eyes said. “Bring him here.”
When Porcupine approached, Bright Eyes asked him to kneel. She lifted a bowl of wetted, parched corn up to Sees Far, calling his name. He was asleep and she was about to leave him alone when his head fell back. His mouth gaped open and a large fly exited it, buzzing lazily away. Bright Eyes screamed.
Several women rushed over as Green Bird Woman knelt down beside Bright Eyes. “Aieyee! Bright Eyes, he is dead.”
The brave called Porcupine nervously attempted to get to his feet.
“Hold still,” Green Bird Woman said to him harshly, “let us get him off first.” They lifted Sees Far off Porcupine’s back and laid him down on a bark blanket someone had spread out. Sees Far’s body was curled up like a leaf. His hands had closed into fists and his skin looked like old, polished wood.