by Andrea Jones
“And inside the net, balled up and chained, is a boy. He’s shaking his head, flinging his hands as if to ward Peter off. The links on his wrists rattle, the noise begins bouncing off the water, and Peter places a finger to his lips to warn the boy to silence.
“Perhaps it’s Peter’s mud-caked head that puts the prisoner off, but the captive pays no heed. He keeps up the struggle until Peter reaches through the mesh and seizes the chain. Now Peter climbs aboard the net, and the rope stretches and groans. With his new-idea look on his face, Peter holds up a hand, signifying that the lad inside should wait.
“Peter sends his smallest boy to the open porthole, to fetch the blanket off the hammock. Following instruction, each boy holds a corner, and Peter directs them to hover beneath the captive. Peter hangs upside-down now, and saws at the bottom of the net. It’s taut with the boy’s weight, and every thread cut yields a ‘Twang!’ that fills Peter with delight. Each member of his band is swollen with joy to be snatching the pirates’ victim— without becoming one himself.
“Less elated, the captive clings to the mesh, looking dubiously down toward the blanket. His hands are too sweaty, his bare toes weave round the strings as he tries to hold fast. Inevitably, the net falls open. He plummets. The wool of the blanket itches his skin, but, contrary to expectation, he sits bundled, seeking vainly for a handhold, suspended by mere boys. His fingers give up, and he’s forced to trust to his rescuers. He sees nothing as they carry him to their hideout under the ground, but the motion makes him sick, rocking and swaying as they haul him— miraculously— through thin air. Overcome with alarm, unaware where he’s going, he can’t taste relief; he sniffs no freedom in the night air, but smells only the fug of the blanket.
“Peter Pan and the Lost Boys will feast, boast, and swagger for a week. With no mother to guide them, they sport their mud masks for almost as long. Their newest companion— swiped in an audacious adventure right out from under Hook and Jill’s nefarious noses— believes for a time that he’d rather remain with the pirates. He can’t figure, quite yet, how his prayer has been answered. Because, of course…questioning is for grown-ups.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Jill sat back, and in the reverent silence that followed her story, she clapped her hands. The bo’sun’s mates jumped up, then hauled David down to his cell.
He didn’t resist. He was too amazed to find himself in daylight, so caught up in the narrative that he expected to be, already, in the midnight maleficence of the hideout under the ground.
In the brig under the decks, he sat in limbo, waiting in chains for the next circle of hell: torment, in the form of adventure.
CHAPTER 14
Odds— and Ends
At midday, Raven stepped from the wood. The fresh breeze welcomed her to the wide, white cliff top, but Cecco had not yet arrived. Upon leaving the encampment, Raven had told Willow she’d go walking, but she withheld further information, slipping away before questions might be asked. Raven had questions enough of her own.
She wandered to the edge of the cliff. On one side, she viewed the shelter of the bay, calm waters lapping the beach, and the pirates’ ships at rest. On the other side, Raven saw the vast expanse of the sea, with the horizon beckoning, leading her eye toward the unknown. Out of sight, and part of that unfamiliarity, lay the Other Island. Years ago, White Bear must have studied a similar view, and made up his mind to venture from the shelter of the familiar.
Raven felt a flutter of nerves in her stomach, yet she looked forward to Cecco’s company. Her intuition told her that he could be trusted. After all, the moment he saw her, he had leapt to defend her, not knowing what foe he might be challenging. But, Raven realized, whatever comfort she took from her pirate must be fleeting. He was a man of the winds, blowing in and swirling over the Island, making his impression on its inhabitants, then rushing away again to sail off toward his life upon the sea. It was that motion on which she pinned her hopes, last night, as White Bear loomed above her. Maybe Raven could trust Cecco to protect her, again.
She turned, hearing Cecco shouldering his way between the arms of the spruces that stood guard around their trysting place. He gained the open space and halted. Raven’s pulse quickened to see him again. Oddly, for Raven, just like the scent of resin he brought from the spruce, he was now part of the ‘familiar.’ She noted his dark, sad eyes and his bright, glittering adornments. Instantly she returned to yesterday, and the memory of his body shielding her— so much heavier but just as insistent as White Bear’s, last night. At the sight of her, Cecco conveyed welcoming, as she, too, welcomed his presence.
Neither party uttered a greeting. They moved together to sit on the moss beneath the old, lone alder. Its trunk held their backs while its roots formed a barrier from the precipice. They listened for a time to the breakers below. The water battered the foundation of the rock on which they reposed, but distance reduced the sound to a murmur, and made the impact feel merely a tremble.
Cecco observed, “Neither water nor woods. A fitting place for two opposites like us.”
“I no longer believe us to be opposites,” Raven confessed. “I understand you better today. I have seen you with your people.”
“I can say the same to you.”
“And now,” Raven said, “I have heard your name. I witnessed that Captain Cecco is a man of power. But he is also a man of feeling.”
His bracelets tinkled as he moved to lay his hand on her arm. She did not pull away, but, instead, she welcomed this contact, reassured by his strength, and warmed by his touch. Kindly, he said, “Raven is still a wisewoman. What else does she see?”
“I sense the contrast within your spirit. You are a creature of the wind and sea, strong, bold— but…”
He nodded. “But, like you, I lack the anchor of family for which I pine. We are much the same. Islands in a sea of loss.” His voice softened. “Tell me Raven, if you will, about your husband’s passing.”
As if resisting the burden of her grief, Raven sat straighter. The fringe on her tunic quivered with her movement. “Ash saw an opportunity to strike at the Golden Boy, who has harmed so many of our people. He taught me that if the enemy sees your weapon, it is too late to use it.” She bowed her head. “But always, Ash was impetuous. In his haste, he showed his arrow. The Golden Boy’s knife is quick, and so was Ash’s death.”
“And you have no children of Ash, to comfort you in your loss.”
“I have only the comfort of knowing that my husband died a warrior, in defense of our people. And you, Captain? What can ease your grief?”
“In my country, I am a hunted man. I will never be united with my gypsy tribe again. My brothers, my father, my mother…they are lost to me. When I married I was consoled. But now, although I am certain of her love for me…” Cecco selected his words, mindful of the commodore’s command to protect Jill using the cover of their marriage. “She is a woman of independent spirit. Were I to bind her too tightly, she would no longer be the woman I admire.”
“Then you own a generous heart. But where is your woman? Does she dwell on another island?”
“You have seen her. She came of age on this Island. She is Red-Handed Jill.”
Raven’s eyes opened wide. “The Black Chief’s mermaid? She who eluded our warriors— yesterday?”
“Yes.” Raven’s allusion to Jill as Hook’s woman rankled. Cecco did not subdue the bitterness in his voice. He stretched his fingers and gazed at the golden band upon them. “As your people found, my Jill is a difficult woman to catch. Harder still to hold.”
“Yet even so you wear her token. I see how she wounds you. Loving someone who loves another, too— it is more than I would be able to do. My sister is more openhanded than you or me. She offers freely to share.”
“I find I have little choice. But, lonely woman, does no other brave seek your heart?”
“Yes. The hunter Lean Wolf, and my brother-in-law judges him untrustworthy. But White Bear is a man of standing in the trib
e. It was he whom you saw speaking for the council when we captured your chief. White Bear promised my sister he will provide for me, as his second woman.”
“What I saw of White Bear impressed me. He appears an honorable brave.”
“Can a man be too honorable?”
“Why can you not love him?”
Raven blanched, and she looked away as if to hide her face, and her emotion. “I have said that I am not like my sister.” Collecting herself, she faced Cecco again. “And I will do nothing to lower Willow’s status in White Bear’s tepee. If I accept White Bear, a son might result.”
“A son, surely, would secure your position.”
“Willow’s first child will be born any day now. She is certain she carries a boy. But if a girl arrives, what then? Surely, if a son from my body follows, Willow would lose importance in her husband’s eyes, and in the People’s.”
“I understand.” Cecco remembered Hook’s objections to fathering children by Jill. That decision began to take on aspects Cecco had not yet considered. It was a subject to which he must give further thought.
Raven continued, “Since Ash’s death, I feel that my life is no longer my own.”
“Shall you leave the village, then, to live at the House in the Clearing?”
“No. I would be lost there, turning my back on tradition. And, as Red Fawn’s experience proves, running from a provider’s protection brings shame upon him. This is one reason Lean Wolf is resentful. Red Fawn was his wife; now she is an exile, one whom our people shun as an Outcast.”
“If the Outcasts are shunned, how is it that I have seen the younger braves visiting them?” “How would you not? The young are ever adventurous. We women visit the Clearing only discreetly, when in need of Lily’s counsel or Lelaneh’s medicines. I intend to go there, as soon as I can manage it…to consult Lelaneh. Although I dare not disobey White Bear, I can act to safeguard my sister’s status.”
“As you heard Commodore Hook command, you will not be harmed there. His decree forbids our men, like your own, from mistreating anyone who enters the Clearing.”
Relieved, Raven said, “I am glad to learn this rule for certain. Now that I know, I will wait only until Willow is delivered to visit Lelaneh. Then, I can truly become the Shadow Woman.”
“So you have taken a new name, along with your new life?”
“Along with my abandonment of life. I will retreat to the shadows, and linger there until the time arrives to join Ash in the land of Dark Hunting.” Raven gazed into Cecco’s eyes, and, for the first time, she entreated him. “Unless…”
Touched by this appeal, Cecco took both her hands within his. Her fingers were small but strong, and Cecco felt her gripping him, as if she were clutching at hope. He vowed, “Lonely woman, if it is in my power to help you, I will do so.”
“White Bear came to us from the Other Island. His people dwell there still,” with her chin, she indicated the direction, “to the southeast.”
Cecco followed her gesture, looking off toward the sea.
“I believe you command your men and they obey. I believe I can trust you. I ask that you carry me there, in your ship.”
Cecco sat silent, the surprise on his face obvious, and growing. Raven shifted to face him straight on, kneeling as a petitioner, and yet presenting to him the wealth of her handsome features. Her hands still clung to his. “If you instruct me how to behave, I will cause you no trouble. And, I promise, I will bring you what comfort I may, during the voyage.”
Cecco shook his head, puzzled. “But why will you leave your sister behind? Are you not the last of her relations? She will miss you, and you will long for her.”
“Here, I will do my sister more hurt than good. There, I may begin anew, yet remain within tribe and tradition. And surely White Bear’s first family will accept me, as his obligation. They will know me only as the Shadow Woman, and hold no expectation that I must be other than I am.”
Cecco answered, “You must remain true to yourself. This I know to be right. But, with regret, Raven, I must refuse.”
Disappointment filled her eyes, but she did not slacken her hold on his hands.
“If I had only myself to consider, I would sail with you, happily, anywhere you wish to go. But to steal away a woman of the People— such an act will bring war. Many men will die, both my men and the People’s.”
“But if I leave the village secretly? I might hide until your departure. The People need not know that I travel with you.”
“And their assumptions will lead to turmoil. All your tribe witnessed the commodore’s attentions to you. He will be the first to be accused of your abduction.”
“Oh!” Appalled at her own lack of foresight, Raven pulled back. As she considered the idea more fully, the shock of Cecco’s prediction paralyzed her.
“So you see, Raven, even if we could smuggle you away, I will not risk upsetting the peace our chiefs achieved, and achieved only yesterday. Nor may I endanger the master I swore to serve.”
She could not bring herself to meet his eyes. “I did not consider the welfare of the People, nor the consequences to you. My grief makes me selfish, and I am ashamed.”
“Do not feel shame for seeking passage through your difficulty. But, lonely one, be guided by my advice. My own exile teaches me. If I had a daughter, I would counsel her the same. Remain with the people who love you. Do not bring them pain by your absence.”
Cecco had kept her hands, and he pulled them flat to his chest, where she felt his strong heart beating, and the vitality of a life force she’d chosen to deny.
“But, Raven. Before you retreat into the Shadow Woman, I do accept your offer. Do, if you will, bring what comfort you may to me, here, on this cliff top. And I will return comfort to you.” Slowly, he brought himself closer. He brushed her lips with his own until they tingled, and then he moved even nearer, to lay a kiss on her ear. He whispered to her, “Lonely woman; lonely man.”
Raven answered, caressing his cheek with hers to stir an intimacy she hadn’t known since Ash. “We are no opposites, at all.”
The old alder shaded them on the mossy bed between its roots. Cecco released her hands at last, to gather her tightly in his arms. They embraced, within view of the sea, within scent of the wood, and, for a brief and beneficent moment, the impact of their loneliness felt merely a tremble.
Then Cecco rose, and offered his hand to raise Raven. His arms went round her again, still ardent, but holding her steady.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, Raven. You may be right. The Other Island may hold hope for the Shadow Woman to heal. I will take you there, if your council and my commodore consent. As for your consolation, as much as I crave it, I’ll remain true to my marriage. Even if it proves, finally, my doorway to the land of Dark Hunting.”
“My dear Captain Cecco. I thank you for your care of me.” She laid her hands on his chest once again, beneath his shimmering gypsy necklace. “I feel the fire that burns within your breast. You are wise to keep me at a distance, for here is more life than I have heart to hold.”
It was Raven who had come to him. It was the Shadow Woman who turned from him. She walked toward the path, and at the edge of the trees she looked back to say, “I will think on your words. One more time, I will join the Man of the Lonely Winds. At the next noontime, here, at neither water nor woods.”
“He will welcome you. You and I are at odds, but, I sense, we are not yet at an end.”
As she disappeared, he turned to the sea, to the southeast. His thoughts blew before him, snatched by the winds for which Raven named him, far and away, to another island, where, undoubtedly, some worthy brave lived in ignorance of the good fortune drifting his way.
✽ ✽ ✽
Raven ran again, reassuming her cares as she covered the ground to meet them. They flew at her one by one. She may have stayed away too long; perhaps Willow had need of her sister; maybe her labor had begun; what if White Bear suspected her forbidden friendship? Raven das
hed over the narrow path, the grass blades nicking her ankles. As the green of the forest blurred past her vision, Cecco’s counsel echoed in her ears. Wise as he was, he could not end her difficulties.
She admired Cecco, all the more, for rejecting her. He had chosen a woman. He loved his wife, even when he did not hold her. Raven felt the same way. She loved a husband. She simply could not hold him. And the man she might hold, if she allowed herself to do so—
A shudder shook her, and she stumbled. Halting her stride, panting in the humidity of the wood, she closed her eyes to block out emotion. It followed her into the blackness. She had explored every option, yet not one thing had changed.
Lean Wolf succeeded last night in delaying White Bear’s suit. But within this night, she would learn all she dreaded to know about her sister’s husband. And, afterward, when he lay sleeping with the coarse hair of his scalp lock across her throat, then she would understand, without a doubt, how much or how little he regretted his responsibility for his wife’s older sister.
If he enjoyed her, would Willow be diminished? Would he be moved to offer ceremony, to make Raven his wife? If he did not take pleasure in her, how could Raven’s pride suffer her to reside, unwanted, in his home? More than she resented ignorance, Raven shrank from learning, for certain, her exact standing in White Bear’s estimation.
Raven’s eyes opened, and, gradually, her feet moved her forward. Too soon the forest path ended, and the encampment spread out before her: the children, the old ones, the tepees, the totem pole, the rising smoke, the slope descending toward the river, canoes on the beach, gray squirrels tumbling through the trees and the swift waters’ gleam in the sun. And there, at the end of her path, where she’d dwelt all her life, Raven’s struggles ended, too. She vowed to herself, and she vowed as the Shadow Woman.
Willow’s sister would do as she was told.