Return of the Pale Feather

by E. B. Brown

  If not for Benjamin, Winn could see forming an alliance with the Norse. He had grown a grudging respect for Marcus, despite their differences, and Winn knew the man would protect his family to the death. Yet living alongside Benjamin was something he could not do. How could he live peacefully with his brother, the man who had stolen his wife and left him for dead? Even if Maggie had forgiven him, Winn feared he did not have it in his blood to move on.

  “Winn, a word with ye?”

  Marcus approached, leaving Benjamin with the others. With a glance at Marcus, Erich stood and joined the group, giving them privacy. Winn saw something pass between the two men. It was a quick dip of Erich’s chin, and the hardening of Marcus’s jaw, slight yet noticeable.

  “You will not let them sail, will you?” Winn asked. Marcus shook his head.

  “No. The colonies are long gone. We must make our future here, in this land. We’ve been farmers before, we can do it again.” Marcus waved Winn to sit, and then joined him on the log. His father sat with his hands braced on his knees for a moment, staring ahead at the other men gathered overlooking the inlet.

  “I must tell ye something of the future, and ye must listen to me,” Marcus said.

  “Then speak. The men wait for you,” Winn replied.

  “We took Maggie’s mother away to protect her. Maggie bears the last blood of the most powerful Gothi, she is the key to keeping the blood alive. Old Malcolm and I thought someday she would wed my son, and the Gothi blood would live on through them.”

  “A fine plan,” Winn snorted. “And the wrong son found her.”

  “Nay, not the wrong son. It turned out different than we planned, but it was meant for this way. That blasted woman fell through time to find ye, if that is not destiny, I know not what is.”

  Winn pushed his doubts aside for the moment.

  “I told ye I found records. That’s how I found ye. What I dinna tell ye was I know when we all meet our end.”

  “Do not tell me of our ends,” Winn said quietly.

  “But I must.”

  “No,” Winn growled, glaring at his father. “What good comes of such knowledge?”

  “The good of saving her,” Marcus replied. “If you take her back to the tribes, even the Nansemond, Maggie will die. Your uncle will see her dead, I know this.”

  “I do not believe you. My Weroance gave us his blessing. He let her go, when he could have killed her. I have served him faithfully—there is no cause for him to harm her!” Winn shouted, rising to his feet. The others looked back at them curiously, but maintained their distance, the interest evident on their faces.

  “You must believe me. I found a story of her death at the hands of Opechancanough. I know not when, but I believe the tale. Leave her here. Stay with these people, make your life here. I beg you, do not return to them.”

  Marcus stood as well, running a hand through his hair then settling to clutch the nape of his neck. His father’s eyes, so similar to his own, were fatigued.

  Could his tale be true? Had Winn served his uncle all this time, to see his uncle harm his wife in the end? He would not believe it. Especially coming from Marcus, how could he trust him? Perhaps his father meant to keep Winn and his family close with more lies.

  “In the future, family and blood mean very little, not like it does here. Now, in this time, to these people, her blood means everything. To have back that which we always protected, when we thought it lost? It gives them purpose again, something we all must have. Do ye know, son, what power she has? What lies in yer daughter’s blood? The blooded MacMhaolians have saved our people more than once, and that magic is our secret to guard,” Marcus said, his gaze focused like a brand into Winn’s.

  “There are those that will come for her. I know not when, but I know they will come. They always have, no matter what time our people flee to. I know ye must feel like ye have no choice, son, but ye do. I ask ye to chose us. Take yer place at my side, let these people be yer own.”

  His father dropped his hands to his sides and turned away, his brows sheltering his stark grayed eyes.

  “I will keep them safe. There is nothing for you to worry on,” Winn finally answered. “Speak to your men. They wait for your word.”

  Winn waved his arm at the group of men, and Marcus turned to them. They joined the others without discussing it further.

  Chapter 25

  Rebecca

  Rebecca spread her cloak on the grass and her bible beside it. It had been a gift from Makedewa back when she first arrived, spoils she assumed he had taken from the ruins of Martin’s Hundred. She still recalled the devastation of that day to the place she once lived with her English family, the entire town left in a burned out ruin and most of its inhabitants annihilated. A few days after the Massacre, when she had still been in some sort of haze, Makedewa had brought her a sack of gifts. She cried when she saw the items and he quickly left, so she never did properly thank him for his kindness. She wondered if he would ever try to speak to her again after their last encounter. What man would want such a damaged woman as a wife?

  “Why do you walk out alone?”

  Rebecca looked up, feeling foolish. Too entranced in her thoughts, she had not even heard Teyas approach.

  “Only for some time with my own thoughts. The village is too busy today,” she replied with a smile. Rebecca patted the cloak beside her. “Will ye sit with me? I would like your company.”

  Teyas squinted up at the afternoon sun, raising her hand to shield her eyes against the glare. Her hair was unbound, long and straight down her narrow back, which was a change from the two black braids she usually wore. She was dressed in a peculiar manner as well, with delicately beaded moccasins and a fresh white doeskin dress. Rebecca had never seen her so dressed before. The garb reminded her of the fine ceremonial attire Winn sometimes wore when he traveled to Jamestown on his duties for his uncle.

  “I have little time before I must go. I came to bid you goodbye,” Teyas said softly as she sat down beside her. Her friend’s head was bowed and her eyes hidden under her thick downcast lashes.

  “Goodbye? What do ye mean? Maggie said we might stay here, if Winn wishes it so,” Rebecca stammered. Teyas placed a hand over hers.

  “No, my friend. Only I must leave. My mother and father have arranged my marriage. My brothers will take me to Mattanock today.”

  “But no man has courted ye!”

  “He will court me, when we meet. We will have a few days, I think, before I am a wife,” she said.

  “Is it always so, for the Indians?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, for you to marry a man you do not know?”

  Teyas squeezed her hand, her lips curled up in a smile.

  “Sometimes. I hear he is a brave warrior, and he gave many gifts to my mother for this match. I could refuse his pledge, but it would cause my mother shame.”

  “Oh, Teyas! I don’t want ye to go!” Rebecca whispered fiercely, throwing her arms around her friend. They rocked together in a tight embrace, and soon she felt her friend’s tears dampen her own cheek.

  “Stop it, stop! I am happy to be a wife,” she insisted. They drew away from each other, hands entwined in their laps. Teyas patted her hands, as if soothing herself, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. “You will be a good wife as well. I am sure my new husband will allow me to return for your wedding to my brother. I will see you again.”

  Rebecca swallowed back a sob in the midst of trying to stem her tears. She twisted her fingers together in her lap, clutching a handful of her wool skirt.

  “Nay, there will be no wedding for me. I will never be a wife to your brother. I am sure he no longer wants to marry me, after our last parting,” she said.

  “Rebecca,” Teyas said, her voice trembling. “You have a man who wishes to hold your heart. Do not turn him away. I fear you will regret it someday.”

  Rebecca looked up into her friend’s soft brown eyes. Tears glistened on her cheeks, but she was beautiful even so. Rebecca was sure Teya
s would make a fine wife. She was strong, confident, and everything a man could desire in a spouse.

  Rebecca would regret making Makedewa unhappy more than anything, but she could not admit that to his sister. Teyas pulled her to her feet, and they walked back to the village together.

  “Someday, you will see the moon through the trees,” Teyas murmured, tucking her arm through Rebecca’s. Rebecca hugged her, wishing there was some way to make time stand still.

  Chapter 26

  Winn

  Winn did not expect her to be in their Long House when he returned, yet she was. His wife and child napped on the sleeping platform, Kwetii curled up against Maggie’s breast with one little fist bunched in her red hair, the sounds of their breathing a gentle snore echoing within the confines of the walls. He felt a tug deep in his chest as he watched them, the two he loved most in the world. As he sat down gently next to them, he wondered if Maggie would wake still angry or if she could see reason.

  Reason? Perhaps not. It was not the first time they argued over her place at his side, and he knew it would not be the last. He usually liked to hear stories of how she lived in the future, but when it came to her expectations of what a wife was to a man, he had no patience for it. He heard her words and understood her meaning, yet she expected more of him than just listening. She wanted what she knew marriage to be in the future, but she wanted it with him, in their time. With all they had been through, at least that should be witness to why her desire could not be met, but nothing swayed her. Always defiant, never submissive, he had no desire to smother her fire. He only wished to find some impasse, a way to let her smolder without damage.

  This time, however, was different. He still had a duty to his tribe, and he owed Pepamhu his respect. Winn would deliver Teyas as requested, no matter how much he would miss his sister and despite how he wished there was another way. Once he settled Teyas in the village, he would ride onto Jamestown to finish his business with the English. There he would meet the Indian translator, Joseph Benning, and escort him safely to his uncle’s village. Maggie did not know yet that this exchange would mean the end of his service to his uncle, nor that Winn had cultivated it for months. Although it would ease her mind to know his duty to his uncle would soon be satisfied, Winn held that fact close until he could resolve the rest of their issues.

  If Maggie knew his ties to the Powhatan Weroance were severed, she would expect them to settle in the Norse village. Yet that was a decision he was not prepared to make. Between her knowledge of future events, and the prediction Marcus made of Maggie’s death, he knew not what path to take. He could only continue to take the risk of their future safety, and that of his family, on his shoulders alone. Seeing his wife bear such responsibility would be intolerable.

  Kwetii let out a sweet sigh as he brushed her hair back off her cheek. He felt Maggie stir. Her jade eyes opened, round and swollen from her tears as she stared up at him, and he felt a pang in his belly at the knowledge of her distress.

  How he wished he could take her fear away. If only he could banish the uncertainty, give her a foothold, perhaps she would lower her defenses and accept her place beside him.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “I thought you would be with Teyas.”

  “You told me to stay here,” she whispered.

  He lowered his eyes as he sighed, nodding.

  “Yes. I did,” he agreed. She sat up, shifting her weight so as not to disturb Kwetii. As he realized that she had spent the last few hours alone in their Long House instead of with Teyas, he bit back a harsh retort. Yes, she was stubborn, but he had ordered her to stay. For once, despite her bluster, she had obeyed him.

  “Come,” he said gruffly, standing up from the pallet. “Say goodbye to my sister, bring Kwetii.”

  He did not wait for her to follow, the hot frustration streaking through him. Knowing he was leaving his wife when things lay unsettled made him bristle. It was difficult enough to honor his duty and take his sister back to the village with the certainty he might never see Teyas again. It was another matter entirely to leave Maggie with whispers of anger between them. He could see the hurt in her eyes, and he knew she did not understand why she must remain behind.

  Winn stalked out to the courtyard, where the horses stood ready. Two horses would remain with Teyas, one for her to ride, the other to carry her belongings and to serve as a gift to Pepamhu. Makedewa and Chetan were already mounted, with Ahi Kekeleksu astride his pony beside them. He heard Maggie’s footsteps behind him, but he did not look at her as he checked the straps on his mount.

  Maggie and Teyas spoke quietly to each other, and Teyas took Kwetii into her arms. The women seemed resolved to the situation, and although he knew how much it pained his wife, he saw the way Maggie channeled her strength to show Teyas a brave face. With a tearful smile and a few stolen kisses, Teyas mounted her pony.

  Winn swung up as well. Maggie stood back from the horses, her eyes rimmed pink but dry. Still sleepy, Kwetii rested on her mother’s hip, seeming blissfully unaware that her aunt and father meant to leave. It was unusual for the toddler to let him go silently, but in light of the events of the day, he imagined it was better for them all.

  His breath hitched when he looked down at Maggie. Her lips parted slightly, then closed, and he could see her jaw tremble as she met his gaze.

  “Before the sun sets on the second day, I will return, ntehem,” he said, his voice low, meant for only her ears. “This is the last task I carry out for my uncle. When I return to you, my service to him is over.”

  She stared hard at him for a long moment.

  “Be safe, warrior,” she finally whispered.

  He nodded. His throat was dry, his mouth too tight to speak. He could only acknowledge her with the simple gesture before he turned his horse away.

  Those eyes haunted him, as always, seeing through the barrier that shielded his heart. Yes, she was still angry, but simmering beneath that jaded emotion, he could see her fear. When he returned, they would speak on it, find some way to bend the rigid barricade between them before it drove them further apart.

  He heard only soft muffled sobs from Teyas as they rode away, yet it was his wife’s image that clouded his visions instead.

  Chapter 27

  Maggie

  Maggie watched the men work on a new frame house adjacent to the Northern Hall. It was built in the English style with two stories and a narrow staircase up the middle, sticking up like an ugly cousin among the litter of thatched-roof Long Houses in the village. Benjamin worked to oversee the construction, and although he labored alongside the men, he clearly directed the efforts. It was easy to convince Marcus a two-story house would be the best use of their limited space in the secluded area, so when the growth of their community demanded it, he approved the work.

  Maggie and Rebecca remained in the village to tend the meal-fire, while Gwen joined the others gathering honey. After Kwetii’s brush with the bee sting Maggie was still on edge, and although she hoped it was an isolated incident, she was unwilling to risk it by going back to the fields.

  The grazing season was nearing end, so the men had driven the herd of cows into a narrow pass above the valley. There they selected which to slaughter, and which to feed throughout the winter. Maggie and Rebecca spent the morning scraping the hides and storing the fat, while the children played nearby. Maggie could see Rebecca found the chore distasteful, but the younger woman carried on with little complaint. She had been even less talkative than usual since Makedewa left with Winn.

  “Will they return soon?” Rebecca asked. Maggie tightened the hide over her knee and scraped away in a sweeping motion with her blade.

  “Winn said only two days. Maybe tomorrow we will see them,” she assured the younger woman. Rebecca looked wistfully out toward the construction, pausing in her scraping with a hide sprawled over her lap.

  “Do ye think he will find a bride there, as well?” Rebecca asked softly. Maggie cocked her head sideways at
her, stunned at the question. Although it was clear from both their behaviors that Rebecca and Makedewa missed each other, Rebecca had never verbalized it before. Maggie wondered what had prompted her inquiry.

  “No, I don’t think so. I think he means to return to you quickly,” she replied. Rebecca blushed and lowered her head, resuming her scraping with renewed intensity. Maggie smiled.

  “Perhaps he should stay. He could find a wife very easily,” she mumbled.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “No matter.”

  Maggie sighed in frustration. She noticed Cormaic and Benjamin had stopped working, and Cormaic leaned on a spade, looking in their direction. He stared at Rebecca across the courtyard as she continued scraping. Both men propped their tools against the new wood frame and started walking toward them.

  “Great,” Maggie muttered as the men approached. Cormaic had a mischievous grin on his face, and although Benjamin appeared much less amused, he was still smiling. Both were covered with dust and grime, their skin smeared with the sweat of their labor. Cormaic reached for the bucket of fresh cider Maggie had brought out for the men, but Rebecca jumped to her feet and rationed it out to the men before Maggie could offer it.

  “Thank ye, my lady,” Cormaic murmured, his green eyes focused on Rebecca. Maggie saw her skin flush from ears to nape, and although she quickly sat back down and ducked her head to her work, she was clearly unsettled by the exchange.