The Lost Duchess

by Jenny Barden

  The elders muttered together before one of them gave their answer, doleful as a knell. ‘There must be an end to mistrust, Menatonon has spoken. We must trust in death.’

  Wanchese took a step nearer, close enough for Kit to smell his sweat, close enough to take Kit’s neck in both hands and break it. Kit knew that was what he wanted to do.

  ‘Trust me when I say this. We will burn your city to the ground and everyone in it. If you try to flee then we will drown you. We will send your spirits to the pit of endless weeping.’

  Kit spoke to Wanchese and everyone else. ‘This is your choice, not ours.’

  Wanchese swept his arm towards the light. ‘Go and do not anger me more. Thank me for my mercy to you now. I could take your woman before your eyes and tear the skin off this pretty boy’s face.’ He pointed straight at Rob, sending another chill barb through Kit’s spine, but then his fury settled back on Kit. ‘I will not do either yet because I have the honour of a warrior and a weroance, not an Englishman and a general. I will let you go and we will meet again in battle. Once I have your head then the fruits of victory will be mine.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Or you may wish to kill yourselves first and suffer less pain.’

  Kit kept his head high. He would show no fear and his company would preserve such pride as they had.

  ‘We will go, but should you attack us then you will destroy all hope of the peace and friendship we now offer you.’

  Wanchese spat at his feet.

  ‘Until the day of battle, Englishman. You can offer us nothing.’

  *

  ‘They will attack, that is certain, and they will attack soon.’

  Kit scanned the faces of the colonists all turned towards him: expectant, sober and anxious. This was not what they wanted to hear, and it hurt to dash their hopes. But they must know what confronted them.

  ‘We were followed most of the way back by Choanokes and Weapemeocs in war canoes. Wanchese may well have been amongst them. You can hear their drums now. They are gathering at Dasemonkepeuc.’

  A ripple of unease passed through everyone gathered in the strong-house and out to those crowding around the wide open door. Kit sensed the mood swaying, balanced between support and disillusionment. These good people had been let down by White and they had looked to him for leadership; now he was presenting them with disaster.

  Jim Lacy spoke up. He was still wearing the bandolier he’d worn during the expedition to the Chowan. He stank of swamp, and his face was streaked with mud and sweat; none of the company had had the chance to even wash their faces after getting back. Lacy spoke as if he was ready to thump anyone who argued with him.

  ‘It was always Wanchese’s intention to destroy us. Nothing Master Doonan said could have changed that.’

  Kit was grateful. The mood tipped back towards him; he felt it as he swept his gaze over everyone crammed into the room, taking in those bunched up on benches or standing in the crush around the walls, along with the Assistants sitting either side of him behind the long meeting table. Dyonis Harvie and Ananias Dare waited quietly for him to continue.

  ‘The Choanokes and the Weapemeocs now follow Wanchese. They will give him the warriors he asks for, so will the Secotans. There could be thousands pitted against us. That force will only grow as outlying villages send more men.’

  Harvie slumped forwards cupping his brow in one hand, his voice drained of emotion.

  ‘Our city will fall.’

  ‘Yes, it’s inevitable.’

  Kit felt the collective shock, as if everyone listening had been punched in the stomach. This was the end of the City of Raleigh at Roanoke; they must accept it.

  ‘The army Wanchese commands is too great for us to oppose even with firearms and artillery, and our ordnance doesn’t amount to much.’

  Lacy was more specific.

  ‘One saker cannon, two falconets, four fowlers and three base guns: mostly small pieces.’

  Kit clasped his hands on the table and spoke calmly. This was how a captain must feel when he has to give the order to abandon ship: sick to his soul but determined to see everyone to safety in any way possible. He had to keep a steady hand however much he was grieving. He would be parted from those he most loved. He would be the last to go, if he left at all.

  ‘The savages will overrun us eventually by sheer weight of numbers.’ He spread his hands and clenched his jaw. ‘I am sorry. I wish I could have brought you better news.’

  Ananias Dare leaned across to put his hand on Kit’s back in a comradely fashion.

  ‘At least we have some warning. You have given us a chance to prepare.’

  That meant a lot, that hand on his back, and from Dare of all men. He’d not expected it. A lump rose and caught in his throat.

  Harvie looked broken, his face ashen and aged. ‘How can we prepare? All we can do is pray.’

  Kit went through the few choices they had left; they had no time to debate and he wanted to forestall any argument.

  ‘We can strengthen our defences and try to repel the savages for long enough to survive until help arrives from England.’

  Harvie’s expression sparked with hope. ‘Could the relief fleet get here that quickly?’

  The brightness in him soon faded; he must have known the answer.

  ‘No, in truth; I don’t think it could. We might hope to hold out for a few weeks before Wanchese amasses his army to full strength. But Raleigh’s relief fleet won’t be here for at least another five months. We will all be dead before the ships reach us.’

  ‘We could surrender,’ Dare suggested tentatively.

  Manteo stepped forward from the place where he had stood in shadow against the wall.

  ‘If you surrender, Wanchese will have his revenge by torturing every man to death. The Secotans have perfected the art of inflicting pain. They use sharpened shells, scraping away skin and muscle to the bone bit by bit. Your women and children will be taken as slaves. It would be kinder to kill them.’

  A hush settled as Manteo’s warning sank in. Some of the colonists began to weep, Margaret Harvie amongst them, sobbing into the shawl she’d wrapped around her baby while pressing the infant to her breast. Most of the men stood stiffly, bunching their fists. One of the older ones crumpled and sat down heavily on a bench. This was the end for the colony. They each must have envisaged what that would mean at the hands of Wanchese. For Kit, the vision was an apocalypse.

  He raised his voice. ‘The city must relocate; there’s no alternative.’

  Now was the time to set out the plan he’d been forming throughout the return journey, the only one he could think of with a fair prospect of keeping the colony alive.

  ‘There’s a chance if we move quickly, before Wanchese mounts an attack. The colony must leave tonight, under cover of darkness. If you go in Indian dugouts and cloaked like savages, then it’s quite possible that Wanchese’s watchmen will not be aware of what is happening, particularly if I and a few others give the impression that the fort is still fully manned. I’ll make such a show with cannon shot and fireworks that the savages will think we’re being entertained by demons. It should hold their attention for long enough to allow everyone else to get away.’

  Lacy stepped forwards. ‘I’ll stay too. You’ll need a gunner who knows a few tricks with black powder.’

  Jack Tydway moved to stand by him. ‘And I. You gave me my freedom, Kit Doonan. This is the best use I can make of it.’

  Kit regarded them warmly. They looked like brutes, travel-stained and ill-kempt, but they were both utterly loyal. ‘Thank you, both of you.’

  Tom Humphrey joined them, smiling awkwardly, tall and gangling. He brushed back his quiff of ginger hair with long bony fingers.

  ‘I too. I never knew a mother or father. This city is my family. I’ve no one else to leave behind. We only have one death; I’ll make mine a good one.’

  ‘Spoken like a soldier, Tom,’ Lacy murmured.

  Harvie shook his head sadly. ‘You would be certa
in to die, all of you.’

  Kit met his eye.

  ‘Better for four to die than a hundred and more. Take the city north, Dyonis. Your journey will not be easy but at least you’ll have a fair chance. Go north behind the sand banks and through the swamp to Chesapeake Bay. That’s where we were always meant to be. The journey may take you a week in canoes but Englishmen have done it before, Thomas Harriot for one.’ He turned to Manteo who gave a nod. His friend had already said he would help; he was the only one Kit had confided in. The plan depended on Manteo’s support, and on the use of the dugouts belonging to the Croatans who had come to Roanoke to trade. Manteo had agreed to everything; his friend had never failed him.

  ‘Manteo knows the way. He will go with you as your guide and help you begin on good terms with the friendly tribes in the region.’

  ‘I will,’ Manteo confirmed.

  ‘There are enough canoes here for everyone if baggage is kept light. The rest of the Croatans will return to their island in our boats. They will go now, in daylight, so their departure is clear to Wanchese’s lookouts. This will be our fight, not theirs. The pinnace will have to stay here. It would be an obvious target for Wanchese’s men, useless in the swamp, and it’s too small even to take half of you. I’ll scupper it before the savages get their hands on it.’

  Dare stood as if he was ready to march straight out and down to the shore. ‘If we’re to leave tonight, we must get ready now: collect our belongings and stow what provisions we can.’

  Kit rose also, glad that Dare needed no more encouragement.

  ‘Yes, you should go.’ He spread his hands to include everyone. ‘We are agreed on this course?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Harvie. ‘I’ll lead the city north. God bless you, Kit.’

  They embraced briefly for the last time, and Kit made his final request, speaking softly so his words would go no further. ‘Take Rob and young Georgie Howe and look after them both.’

  ‘I will.’

  Rob moved near. Perhaps he’d guessed what Kit would be asking. ‘I’m not leaving you, Master Kit. I’ll stay with you too.’

  Kit smiled proudly at his boy, the son who still did not know him as his father. He would tell Rob before he left.

  ‘No, Rob. You must go and start a new life with the city.’

  Rob squared his shoulders and stared back defiantly. ‘Nothing you can say will make me go.’

  Harvie patted Rob on the back and gave Kit a look of resignation. ‘Your page is old enough to make up his own mind. We cannot have unwilling passengers.’

  Harvie bowed his head and trudged away, plainly beyond taking on another burden.

  Kit took hold of the boy’s shoulders and tried to shake some sense into him. ‘Rob, go, I beg you.’

  ‘No, I will not. If you are to die for this city then I will die with you. That is my choice.’

  Kit felt hopelessness engulf him. What could he say to make Rob go? He saw him as he was: a fresh-faced youth, eager and determined not to be denied the chance to prove his worth. He realised the boy had already given his answer; it would have been his at Rob’s age. ‘So be it.’

  Tears pricked his eyes. He had never meant for this to happen. Rob had to live, so did Emme. He looked up as Dare took him into an embrace.

  Kit hugged the man back. ‘Take care of Mistress Fifield. I would have wed her if I could.’

  Dare murmured his agreement, as if the news was no surprise. It made no difference now who knew that Master Doonan and Mistress Fifield had been destined to marry.

  ‘I consider her part of my family,’ said Dare. ‘I’ll look after her.’

  But Emme was there at Dare’s side, refusing to go as Kit had feared.

  ‘Thank you, Master Dare, but I will stay as well. Forget about me and care for your dear lady and your child. I can do more good by helping with what needs doing at the fort. Six of us together might convince Wanchese that everyone is still here, any less and the risk to those leaving will be too great.’

  Dare shuffled, frowned and shot Kit a look of bafflement. ‘I am sure Master Doonan’s plans do not require the sacrifice of a woman.’

  Emme raised her chin. ‘My decision is freely taken.’ She took hold of Kit’s arm. ‘No one can force me to go.’

  Dare nodded and smiled sadly. ‘I understand.’ He gave both her and Kit a short bow. ‘We are indebted to you both.’

  Kit turned to her and bowed his head, lost for the words he needed to keep her from him. ‘Emme, not you …’

  She took a step back. ‘There is no more time. We must act: you to make ready the defences here; the rest of the colony to embark in the canoes. I will help them, but I will not leave you.’

  He could not stop her; he knew it deep in his core. He’d witnessed her determination before. She would stay however much he pleaded with her, and she was right, there was no more time to waste in argument. He was torn between love, admiration and a grief that threatened to unman him.

  Then he raised his voice to reach everyone who remained.

  ‘God speed all of you going north!’

  More quietly, for Emme, he had another message.

  ‘Heaven help the rest of us.’

  13

  Love Alters Not

  ‘Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

  But bears it out even to the edge of doom.’

  —William Shakespeare, from ‘Sonnet 116’

  Kit watched anger spreading like heat over Rob’s shock-frozen face, his eyes blazing in the gleam of lantern light, his fists clenching as his body stiffened.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ the boy asked.

  Kit had told him almost everything about his life with the Cimaroons, the love he had found with the boy’s mother, her death when Rob was too young to know and the boy’s adoption by the couple he’d believed to be his parents. He had tried to shield Rob from any stigma, but why had he kept up the pretence that the boy was his page even after arriving in the New World?

  Why?

  Kit bowed his head and shook it. The question was one he had dreaded, and he did not know how he could answer.

  ‘I wanted to spare you.’

  ‘Spare me? You mean you were you so ashamed you could not recognise me as your own?’

  Kit reached out to Rob but the boy moved away, his dear son in whom he could not have been more proud.

  ‘I have never been ashamed of you. I only wished to protect you.’

  Rob’s voice broke as he turned his back.

  ‘Protect me from what?’ His words trailed away into another shrill question. ‘How did my mother die?’

  ‘The Spaniards killed her.’

  ‘How?’

  There it was. There was no evading it now.

  Kit spoke softly.

  ‘She was burnt alive as an example because she had escaped as a slave, lived with the Cimaroons, and blinded a soldier who tried to rape her. The Spaniards tied her to a tree and set it alight.’

  Rob’s shoulders began to shake, and Kit put his arm around the boy as gently as he could, and held him close while they wept.

  *

  Emme did not know for how many hours she had stared at the calm waters of the sound, only that the sickle moon had risen and was now falling behind drifting clouds, and the deep dull booming of the war drums had never stopped, neither had the explosions of gunfire and fireworks from the fort behind the trees, though the intervals between the blasts were growing longer, and the flares of brilliant white and orange light had ceased to send the deer bounding through the reeds. Each time darkness returned, the stillness was absolute. She’d watched the canoes bearing the settlers northeast across the wide waters, until the last was swallowed by the night mists rising, sliding like a speck over the pale grey sheen before slipping into the slit where the horizon met the sky. Gone from her forever now, she would never see those friends again; she would not know where the new city would be sited, or how little Virginia Dare would grow up, or what rai
sing a family in the raw New World would be like. Their lives were lost to her as the sands of her own life were trickling away. War would begin the next day: that was the message carried by the drums; Manteo had told her, as he’d told Kit and the others remaining on the island before he left. She could not expect to see another sunset and neither should they. But their work was done, and what mattered most for the city and England had already been accomplished: the Planters had left Roanoke without being pursued.

  From the point where she stood sentinel, she could see across to Dasemonkepeuc, and, though the village was veiled in darkness, the surface of the water was clearly visible. Not one canoe had left the mainland since night had fallen; she was sure of that. The savages must have been entranced by the spectacle of fire as Kit had hoped, while from Dasemonkepeuc, no one could have seen the exodus taking place on the other side of the island. Their little company had succeeded in what they meant to achieve. She should go to Kit and reassure him that their deaths would not be in vain. All she and Kit had left to do was to squeeze a lifetime that should have been theirs into the space of a few shadowed hours. Shivering, she drew her shawl tighter. She needed to be with Kit. She had to be with him at the end. She was not sure that she could be brave in the face of death, but with him she would try.

  She skirted east along the edge of the reeds until the shore became a beach that she followed round. Then she took the well-worn track leading to the tree-covered bluff, and from there she looked down on the pinnace, anchored close offshore, and up to the sandy knoll on which stood the fort. For an instant everything flashed white and amber as sparks streamed from a fire-arrow shooting high overhead. The fort pulsed orange, its palisade like a rusty saw-blade jutting up from the bare cliff face. A thundering report made her duck and she looked up to see the arrow bursting in a ball of violet flame, sparks spraying in all directions, fading to nothing as they fell over the water. Ears ringing, she hastened towards the fort as it merged once again into a silhouette with the trees, black against the sky but hazed by clouds of thinning smoke. The stench of sulphur caught at the back of her throat, and the sharp taste of nitre was acrid in her mouth. Her pulse raced though there was as yet no reason to be afraid; that would come on the morrow. She was blind again in the dark. The only light was an orange glow, one that became more distinct as she edged along the track. The light emerged from a tracery of leaves, about head height, by the trunk of a tall tree. It came from a lantern hung on a branch, and beside it were two men. One of them was Kit. She saw him as she negotiated a bend in the path, but then she stepped back. The other was Rob.