by Kim Murphy
“Lee, pray continue.”
He had promised. He concentrated on the woman before him.
“Why do I care?” asked Henry, lowering his hat. “I was sincere in my request. Whilst I may not be the richest, you could do far worse. And I would raise your savage daughter as a Christian.”
“Little Hummingbird is not a savage.”
He did not debate the statement. “My land is far enough away from the main colony that I can look the other way should you desire to visit your mother on occasion.”
Flight faded from Phoebe’s eyes. In its place, he saw compliance. Not many men would have accepted her into their households other than as a whore.
Distaste lingered at seeing the world through Wynne’s eyes, and Lee blinked. Usually he was on the receiving end of blatant bigotry. A moment passed before he was able to collect his thoughts. “You were forced to marry Henry Wynne?”
“My father had vowed my hand to Henry. He would have made his threat good should I have chosen to ignore Captain Wynne’s warning. I had already lost one child. I obliged him for the sake of my daughter.”
“In other words, yes.”
Avoiding his gaze, she said, “He treated me kindly.”
“Then he wasn’t the one to whip you.” It was a statement, not a question. They would need to continue with the dreaming to discover that answer. “And you didn’t love him.”
“Nay.”
“How does my seeing what happened through Henry’s eyes help you? I can’t relate to him like I could Lightning Storm.”
“He loved me.”
To that statement, he had no argument. “I’ll continue as you wish me to.”
She hugged him, and he hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her.
* * *
40
Phoebe
In May of 1623, I married Captain Henry Wynne in James Towne. Following the ceremony, Little Hummingbird was baptized as Elenor in honor of my momma. During the baptism, Poppa scowled, and I did all that I could to keep from weeping. Now married to a man that I did not love, my heart was heavy with remorse. Though I had rejoined my kinsmen, I was severed from the people I loved. Long ago fallen into disuse, my English was garbled, and I sometimes had difficulty making my thoughts known. And my daughter would ne’er hear her father’s voice, nor lay her eyes upon his countenance.
In the years since my arrival, more horses had been brought from England, and James Towne had a cartway. Beyond the colony, most transit remained by ship. I had vowed to ne’er set foot upon a deck again, yet here I was climbing the wood plank in pinching leather shoes, longing for my moccasins.
Once the ship set sail upriver to Henry’s plantation, I grew ill to my stomach. For the first time, I saw an African. Contrary to the woodcut I had seen as a wispy lass, he was fully clothed, wearing a linen shirt, breeches, hose, and a ruff collar like many English men. His skin was nearly the same shade as tar, and his black hair twisted in tight spirals about his head.
I gaped ’til Henry introduced us. “Mistress Wynne, I’d like for you to meet our indentured servant, James.”
“Forgive me for staring. I have ne’er met an African afore.”
He bowed. “A pleasure, missus.”
His English was almost musical, but broken, much like my own. I wondered if he also had family elsewhere.
“I shall obtain a female servant afore I set sail for England,” Henry said.
Had he secured James to keep watch over me so that I wouldn’t run off to the Arrohateck whilst he was away? I had a few months afore the fall of the leaf to form a plan. My stomach calmed, and I cast my eyes to the Powhatan River, renamed the James by the English. Many of the tall trees near the colony had been cut to make way for tobacco fields. Due to paramount chief Opechancanough’s attacks the year afore, many a field lay idle and brimming with weeds.
“Do you not fear Indians, Henry?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “Nay, for you speak their language.”
“If warriors are set upon attacking us, I can do naught, for the English have taught them how to kill women and children too.”
“Phoebe, ’tis our wedding day. I only want you to be happy.”
Then return me... I held my tongue. Taking my wrath upon Henry would be for naught. Love reflected in his eyes. Why could I not feel it too? “I have pledged my vow. I shall honor it.”
Tobacco fields gave way to hickory, tupelo, and cypress trees. Occasionally, we passed a palisaded plantation, most of which lay abandoned. I spied no dugouts, nor any other sign this had once been Paspahegh land. How could the world have changed so vastly in a mere span of thirteen years?
Near sunset, the ship rounded a bend. Cleared land once again came into view. Through the palisade, I could not catch a glimpse of the house. Sailors secured the mooring. I scooped Elenor into my arms, and soon we descended the plank to our new home. Henry led me through the fortified gate.
The house built of wood had a pitched roof for a loft with brick chimneys at each end. Glass being too costly, the windows were shuttered. Inside, there were two rooms: a parlor and a hall. The kitchen was in a separate building. Only two sturdy beams separated the rooms. A table spread across the hall, with a bench on each side and chairs at the ends. A cup board held pewter plates. There was even a looking glass.
On the opposite side, in the parlor, was a pallet with a rope lattice and straw mattress. A four-panel coffer with punch carvings on the sides sat at the end of the bed. A trundle bed was neath ours for Elenor. I had ne’er been in a house so grand, and here I was, the lady.
“You honor me, Henry.”
He smiled. “When Elenor gets a little older, she can sleep in the loft.”
Though melancholy about what had come to pass, the Arrohateck had taught me that any woman could be taken captive. I set about to making the house my own. I first opened the shutters to let a cool breeze fill the rooms. The sight of the palisade reminded me ’twas as much of a way to hold me prisoner as keeping Indians out. Henry had not merely hired a servant, but soldiers guarded the gate.
“I shall fetch some wood for the fire,” I said.
“Phoebe, that’s what James is for. He’ll help with the heavy work.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“I insist.”
I bowed my head slightly. “Whate’er you say.”
He instructed James to collect the wood, whilst I checked the larder in the loft.
“Phoebe...” Henry grasped my hand. “Chores can wait ’til the morrow. Let us ready Elenor for bed, so that aft James returns, we can celebrate the occasion in our wedding bed.”
Trembling, I pulled the trundle bed from neath ours. I dressed Elenor in a shift and sang her an Arrohateck lullaby.
“English,” Henry insisted.
“I do not know the English words.”
“Then find a new song.”
My thoughts were in turmoil. I barely recollected the songs Momma had sung to me. In my head, I translated the words, but could not form them into music. “Forgive me, Henry.” I gave my precious one a goodnight kiss upon her cheek. Her black hair and brown skin reminded me of Lightning Storm. I ached for him to take me into his arms and sat aside Elenor ’til she fell asleep. Even then, I lingered.
Behind me, I heard the pounding of wood near the fireplace. I turned and caught James’s eyes as he stacked the firewood. He was as much of a captive as I, and with Africa an ocean away, he would ne’er see his homeland again. I opened my mouth to express my sorrow, but caught myself—not in front of Henry. And how soon would Henry trust me afore I could visit Momma?
Aft James bid us good eve, Henry’s look changed to that of a man’s hard stare when thinking of a woman. Gulping back a deep breath, I focused on his green eyes. I had ne’er noticed the flecks of brown in them afore. He approached. Lowering my head, I shifted uneasily upon my feet. I had ne’er lain with any man aside Lightning Storm.
His hand went neath my chin, and I spi
ed a hunger that I did not feel, yet he was my husband. My duty was to oblige him. I forced a smile.
Unlacing my bodice, he kissed me upon the lips. When I felt his tongue, I closed my eyes to hide my tears. My skirt and bodice tumbled to the floor. Only my shift remained. He lifted it over my head. I had ne’er been shamed of my body afore, but my heart thumped as he touched and fondled.
Hurriedly, he undressed and showed me to the pallet. Praying he would be gentle, I lay upon it. With his body atop mine, he kissed and touched as a man caught in a raging fever. He forced my legs apart and entered my person. Like a chaste virgin, I winced, but so caught up in his rut, he failed to notice my discomfort. Panting loudly, he grunted and groaned.
If I thought of Lightning Storm.... I could almost feel his long hair brushing against my shoulder. Responding to the sensations, I opened my eyes to Henry’s face. He is my husband. Struggling to accommodate him, I attempted to match his rhythm, when he howled in delight. Satisfied, he rolled to my side but continued to grope me. Afore long, he was ready to fornicate again.
I blindly went through the motions. Poppa had called me a whore for loving Lightning Storm. I had ne’er felt as such, but I certainly did now. One more time I reminded myself that Henry was my husband. The pattern continued several more times throughout the night. Finally fulfilled, he rolled over and fell asleep.
Bedazed by Henry’s abruptness, I lay with my legs spread wide. My entire body ached. I pressed my face to the pillow and sobbed. Had Momma felt similar when she married Poppa? Resolved to follow her example and remain unflinching for Elenor’s sake, I dried my tears and gathered my courage. I would be a good wife to Henry, as I had vowed.
* * *
41
Shae
Convinced they had made significant progress, Shae watched Phoebe blink from the hypnotic state. “I think we’ve learned a lot with this session.”
“Aye.”
“Was Henry the one who whipped you?”
Phoebe shook her head. “I don’t recall, but in my heart I know ’twasn’t Henry.”
“Why do you say that? He forced you to have sex.”
“I was fulfilling my obligations as his wife.”
Shae remained silent for a moment. Although the idea was repulsive, she understood the historical context of arranged marriages. There had to be a connection to Phoebe’s fantasy world and the reason why she accepted abusive treatment. How did Lee fit into the grand scheme of things with Lightning Storm supposedly dead? Everything was intertwined somehow. If only she could make the connection, she had no doubt Phoebe would recall what had put her on the road in February before she had been struck by the car.
* * *
42
Phoebe
The following eve, Carol drove me to Lee’s apartment, where I made preparations for our meal. He had given me a key, allowing me entrance at my whim. Carol stayed long enough to make certain I had the ingredients afore bidding me farewell. I set about to fixing supper, using Meg’s grandmother’s fried chicken recipe. I hoped to excel at the meal Lee seemed to enjoy at the restaurant. Along with the chicken, I made fresh corn on the cob and baked beans.
Around 7:30, I heard a key rattle in the door.
Lee entered and sent me a tired smile. “You’re a welcome sight to come home to.”
I was gratified by his greeting and gave him a kiss. We lingered. I had come to take great comfort in his embrace but reluctantly withdrew to check on the food afore it burned. “Supper is nearly ready.”
“Do I have time to change?”
“Aye.”
Removing his tie, he vanished into the bedroom. Unable to find a platter in the cup board, I put the chicken on an earthenware plate. When I had the table nearly set, I felt Lee’s lips upon my neck.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked, brushing my neck with his lips once more.
With a smile, I turned. He was attired more comfortably in a T-shirt and jeans and wore no gun upon his hip. “I had hoped to speak with you afore the weekend.”
“Your session with Shae?”
I nodded, and he retreated towards the refrigerator. “Would you like a beer?”
“Aye, I’ll take an ale.” Afore I could be seated at the table, Lee was behind me, helping me.
He sat across from me and helped himself to the food I had prepared. “How did the session go?”
“’Tis one of the reasons I wished to see you.”
Aft a few ravenous mouthfuls, he said, “Go on.”
Making certain to use my fork, I placed a chicken thigh on my plate. “I hope ’tis to your liking.”
He muttered a positive response and wiped the grease from his fingers onto the napkin near his hand. “Phoebe, you know you can tell me about it.”
“Eat first. Tell me of your day. I watched a program last night with Meg and Carol. They said it would help me understand your work.”
Taking a sip of ale, he leaned forward with interest. “What’s the name?”
“CSI. Meg said that stands for crime scene investigation.”
He nearly choked on his ale. “It does. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll tell you more about my job, if you only watch TV for entertainment. There’s a reason it’s called fiction.”
Whilst we ate our supper, Lee shared the events of his day, and I began to comprehend his amusement. Afore long, I spoke of my session with Shae.
Upon telling him about my marital bed encounter with Henry, his hand tensed, forming a fist. “You said he was kind to you.”
“He was,” I said.
“But he raped you.”
I grasped his clenched hand. “How can a husband despoil his wife?”
“How? Let me take you to the station, and I can show you the pictures how.”
“’Tis not the same,” I insisted. “’Twas foolish of me to behave as a chaste virgin.”
“And you want me to continue to get into this guy’s head? Phoebe, his attitude against Indians and blacks is abhorrent enough, but the way he treated you is—”
“Lee, ’twas a different time. If you do not wish to see what happened through Henry’s eyes, then I only ask that you accompany me.”
With my words, Lee relaxed his hand. “You know I will, as long as I don’t have to witness any scenes like the one you just described. I’d challenge Henry to a duel, and I might not fare very well with a sword or seventeenth-century pistol.”
“You cannot change what was through the dreaming.”
“Now you tell me.”
I detected his sense of humor returning and set about to making preparations. The dreaming was as much a part of him as ’twas me. I only hoped that he would eventually seek the answers to his own questions, as I had. Once the candle was in place, a sparkle entered his eyes.
I had come to know his thoughts. “Later, my love.” I kissed him upon the lips, then lit the candle.
To my suggestion, he agreed. Grasping his hand, I focused on the flame and absorbed it. Mist engulfed me. The hound was in the lead, and Lee was aside me.
When the mist vanished, I found myself within the palisade of my home with Henry, and Lee was no longer within sight. “Lee...”
Momma stood afore me. She handed me wild yam root in a wooden bowl. “Come fall of the leaf,” she said, “you must harvest your own.”
I calmed myself. Lee would show himself afore the dreaming had completed. “Come fall of the leaf, Henry will sail for England, and I shall not need the root tea.”
“Does he intend on staying in England fore’er? You will want a supply upon his return, or are you planning to escape when he takes his leave?”
Momma spoke the truth. Over the months, I had come to regard him as a man of his word. Most men would have viewed Momma as a traitor and not allowed her to visit. “Nay, I do not wish to shame him.”
She gestured to the bowl containing the root. “Yet, you refuse to bear him a son.”
“I gave Lightning Storm a son,
and now, have none.”
Momma nodded in understanding. “Silver Eagle has come to see you, but the guards would not allow him through the gate.”
“I shall go to him.” Thrilled at the prospect of seeing Silver Eagle, I set the wild yam on a table and walked along the path to the gate with Momma. The guards allowed us to pass. Aside Silver Eagle stood a warrior—Lee. Nearly forgetting myself due to my glee, I raised my arms, ready to embrace him. I caught myself and lowered my arms and gaze. “I’m pleased to see you, Nows,” I said.
A hint of a smile crossed Silver Eagle’s lips. “How are you keeping, Amesens?” Daughter.
“I’m well. Henry forbids me to bring Little Hummingbird outside the gate.”
“He does not trust you.”
No answer was necessary. Henry knew Elenor was the key to controlling my actions. All the while we spoke, Lee stared at me in familiarity. I began to wonder whether his presence was real or merely the figment that had accompanied me during the dreaming.
Finally, Silver Eagle said, “This is Little Falcon.”
“I’m honored,” I said with a slight bow of my head.
“As am I,” he responded.
Why did he not speak to me in a less formal fashion? Afore I had a chance to say anything further, Silver Eagle and Little Falcon notched their arrows to bowstrings. A party of English men, with Henry in the lead, aimed their muskets at the warriors.
I raised my hand and moved betwixt the two parties. “Wait! Silver Eagle is my father.”
Neither party lowered their weapons, but Henry’s gaze softened.
“Henry, you’ve met my momma afore. This is Silver Eagle and his friend Little Falcon.”
Henry ordered the men to lower their weapons, and the warriors did the same. He thrust out a hand. “I’m honored, sir.”
“Shake his hand, Nows,” I said to Silver Eagle. “He’s offering you a truce.”