The Winthrop Woman

by Anya Seton

"True," said Angell Husted, nodding. "Ye can count on that wi' the Indians. I'm not going back to Stamford and leave my crops, after all the bother o' settling here, and I agree wi' Patrick we've no need to call in Underhill. He can stir up trouble, fast as quiet it."

  Robert murmured agreement, whereupon Toby said, "Ye're a pack of fools, you men! Aunt Bess too, but I'd think Mistress Patrick had more sense." He glanced at Anneke who was knitting hose for Daniel, her apple cheeks very pale, her delft-blue eyes red from weeping at Ben's graveside. Elizabeth, startled, wondered if it were possible that Anneke was Toby's sole concern.

  If so, Anneke was quite unaware of it. She gave Toby a faint motherly smile. "I think as Daniel does, Toby. Ve vill be all right."

  Toby wasted no more words on them. He set off for New Amsterdam.

  The August days slipped by in the usual summer routine. They saw nothing whatever of the Indians, even the nearby Tomacs, who had temporarily deserted their village and gone to the tribe's main town at Petuquapan to participate in the elaborate mourning rites for Mianos. The Tomacs left behind only Wasobibbi, the half-wit, and an old squaw to care for him. What fears the Greenwich community might still have had were finally laid by young Danny Patrick. He set off alone one day in his father's rowboat to catch lobsters at the tip of Elizabeth's Neck. A sudden squall had blown up from the south. The twelve-year-old Danny battled the waves as best he could until he lost an oar, then he tossed helplessly in the half-swamped boat, rigid with fear since he could not swim. 'The squall died as quickly as it came, but Danny had no means of reaching shore. He had already drifted past the mouth of the Mianus River when he was discovered and rescued by two Siwanoy braves in a canoe. Danny had never seen these Siwanoys before but they treated the boy with great kindness, retrieved his oar, rowed his boat and took him up a brook to Petuquapan, where Keofferam met him sympathetically, and fed him. Danny had seen Telaka in the distance and she had raised an arm in greeting before disappearing into one of the long bark houses. Later Keofferam had sent the two braves in the canoe to escort Danny and his boat until he entered Greenwich Cove safely.

  "They were good to me," said Danny. "Keofferam called me 'son.' They're not angry wi' us."

  "No," said his father quietly. "Telaka kept her word, or they'd a skinned ye alive, lad. They're decent folk, and I'll not forget they saved ye neither. Only that Mianos was dangerous an' it's not hard to see why he felt as he did, poor devil."

  Elizabeth, who had listened to this account, wondered if Daniel ever thought of Telaka's "blood curse" prophecy, and hoped he didn't. She herself had tried to dismiss it as a natural vindictiveness under the circumstances, and told herself that the accuracy of Telaka's other visions from Chekefuana had been coincidence. At any rate Patrick seemed cheerful, and was not drinking nearly as much as he used to. The two families were content, they went often to Elizabeth's white sands, even Anneke would leave the housework occasionally during the hottest days. As for Angell Husted, he had got his farm in fine shape, built him a good one-room house with a view of the Sound, and told Elizabeth that he was off to Wethersfield to wed a lass named Rebecca he'd taken a fancy to. Soon there would be another woman in Greenwich.

  On Saturday, September 14, Elizabeth went to Monakewaygo with her little girls to gather bayberries and grapes. She had borrowed Daniel's rowboat as a vehicle, and pulled it up on shore at the north side of her Neck where the best bayberries grew and where it was easy to fill the boat. The girls were skilled at stripping the gray berries from the prickly bushes, and soon dumped many basketfuls into the boat. Elizabeth picked the wild purple grapes which were too high for the children, occasionally stooping to examine the ground for herbs. It was a pleasant task and a beautiful sparkling day. A crisp southern breeze ruffled the long reaches of the Sound, the air was hazed blue over the mainland from countless small fires where the Siwanoy were burning off their land to prepare for new crops. As Elizabeth pulled the fragrant grapes she thought suddenly of Anne Hutchinson, who must be in Vredeland by now, and wondered how soon they might see each other. I think she'll be glad to know I'm so near, Elizabeth thought, smiling. Anneke was a dear friend, but sometimes one longed for an Englishwoman of one's own breeding. How happily she and Anne might talk together now, in freedom.

  By noon the boat was full and Elizabeth, proffering the usual reward, said, "Shall we go to the pond and see if our fawn's still there?" Some time ago they had discovered a wounded fawn, lying by the green pool, its hind leg broken. Elizabeth had made a splint for the leg, which healed, though the little creature hobbled pathetically. Since then it had become very tame, and the children loved it.

  "There's ships, Mama—" said Hannah, pointing west. "Are they coming to us?"

  "Of course not," said Joan with elder-sister scorn. "Three big ships wouldn't come here. They'll be going to the Connecticut or Boston, won't they, Mother?"

  Elizabeth started to agree with Joan, but she paused, frowning, and shaded her eyes. The ships were very near. They were unmistakable Dutch yachts, large ones—two-masted, gaff-rigged, and flying the tricolor flag at bow and stern. From the high ornamented poop to the squat stubby bow, the ships were black with men. With soldiers, she saw, as the three yachts veered towards the cove, and she distinguished the glint of helmets and cuirasses and halberds, the slender muzzles of guns.

  "They are coming in," she said, astonished and uneasy. "We'd better get back quickly."

  She bundled the children into the boat amongst the grapes and bayberries, and began to row. She had barely reached their landing when the first ship dropped anchor off Green Island and lowered her longboat. Elizabeth stood and waited on the shore until the longboat slithered up her muddy beach amongst the tussocks.

  "Good day, Madam!" said a tall man jumping to land. "I hope we're not too late? Is all still safe?"

  He wore the armor of a Dutch officer and it took her an instant to recognize him as Kieft's English secretary.

  "Good day," she said, smiling uncertainly. "We're in no trouble, Mr. Baxter." She looked at the longboat crammed with men, the other boats putting out from the ships. "We're not in need of soldiers. Did Toby Feake send you?" she added, shaking her head.

  "In a way," said Baxter. "But there's more than that." He did not smile, he looked very grave. "With your permission I'll land my men. I've been appointed lieutenant of this force."

  "Certainly," she said. "But I don't understand."

  "Where is Mr. Feake, Madam?" said Baxter firmly. "I would speak to him. Also, of course, to Captain Patrick. Be good enough to summon them."

  Elizabeth hurried up to the Feake bam where she thought Robert might be restacking the com. He was not there but she found him at the Patrick house chatting with Daniel.

  "We've got the Dutch army landing on our place!" cried Elizabeth with a rueful laugh. "Mr. Baxter seems to be in command, and he wishes to see you two at once."

  "Holy Mary!" said Daniel. "I was wondering if Toby'd given up his project and rejoicing that he had."

  "The Dutch army?" said Robert, staring at Elizabeth. "Why, there wouldn't be room for them in the cove, wife!"

  "Well, 'tis a lot of soldiers, anyway," said Elizabeth impatiently.

  It was actually a hundred and twenty men. When Elizabeth and Anneke got back the soldiers were scattered all over the Feake waterfront and garden, trampling Elizabeth's precious flowers, and terrifying the children by their raucous foreign voices.

  In the parlor Elizabeth discovered that Baxter was not the only officer. There was a sergeant called Pieter Cock, and a captain, Jochem Kuyter.

  Anneke and Elizabeth set about opening a keg of beer to serve the officers and were stopped by Baxter. "'Tis kind of you ladies," he said bowing. "But we've no time, and 'twould be wiser to leave us alone."

  Elizabeth's color rose. She had as much right to knowledge of anything concerning Greenwich as did Robert or Daniel, and she was not used to being excluded. "I hardly see—" she began stiffly, when Daniel interrupted her.
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br />   "Leave us be, Bess," he said. "There's a reason." He closed the kitchen door, shutting out the women.

  What reason? she thought suddenly frightened. The look in Daniel's eyes had been disquieting.

  "Can it be something has happened to Toby?" said Anneke in a low voice. "He isn't here, is he?"

  The women stared at each other. The children sat in a row on the trundle gazing anxiously at their mother.

  Elizabeth went to the kitchen door and looked out. The men were sprawled in all directions, some throwing dice, some drinking from canteens. She said to the nearest one, "Do you speak English?"

  "Nee," he said, eying her lewdly, from her bare ankles to her lovely sunburned face.

  "Anneke—" said Elizabeth. "Ask him!"

  The soldier transferred his appreciative stare to Anneke, and grinned when she spoke to him in Dutch. He replied at some length.

  "He says Toby is veil," Anneke reported with relief. "He is coming, but had trouble vith his boat, cannot be here so soon."

  Elizabeth scarcely heard. While Anneke and the soldier had been speaking, she had seen the face under another helmet farther off. Blauvelt, she thought in dismay. Daniel's enemy, the man he had fought in the City Tavern. She started to tell Anneke, but stopped. What use was there in distressing her? Amongst so many soldiers Patrick might not see this man, and as for Blauvelt, while under orders he could hardly pursue a private feud.

  "We won't have to put up with this long," she said to Anneke. "Since we don't need protection, they can sail right off again." But she was not as sure as she sounded. Daniel's look of shocked pity had still to be explained.

  It was half an hour before the door opened and Daniel came out. "Bess," he said. "I want to talk wi' ye. Anneke—get her a swig o' mm."

  "I don't want any mm," said Elizabeth. "Whatever it is, tell me at once."

  "I'faith, lovey, then I will," Daniel said gravely. He turned away, fixing his eyes on the hearthstone. "'Tis bad for us all but 'tis worse for you, knowing how ye felt about her."

  "About WHO?" cried Elizabeth sharply.

  "Mistress Anne Hutchinson, Bess. She was massacred last week at Vredeland and sixteen of her family with her."

  Anneke gave a low cry. Elizabeth said nothing. She stared at Daniel. He went on, "They'd only just come, were settling in to their new home. Mrs. Hutchinson, she didn't believe in violence, or bearing arms. There wasn't a gun on the place when the Indians attacked. 'Twas the Weckquasageeks did it, Bess. Murdered all the Hutchinsons except a little lass they captured. Murdered and burned."

  "Why?" she whispered. "Why did they do it?" She sank down on a stool and buried her face in her hands. Daniel put his arm around her and she shook him off with sudden fury. "Why didn't God protect her? She was good. Why did the Comforter not save her! Why was she hounded, persecuted, always driven from the peace and beauty that she yearned for, that she could bring to others? Hounded on to this!"

  "I don't know, Bess. But there've been Holy Martyrs before now. Mebbe she was one ..." Daniel poured himself a noggin of mm. "That's why these fellows came today," Daniel went on heavily. "Oh, Toby tried to stir 'em up, but they were busy chasing Indians on Staten Island. And now this happened to the Hutchinsons. The Weckquasageeks're known to be friendly to the Siwanoys. Kieft has commanded an attack, tonight."

  "Attack?" repeated Elizabeth, staring at the floor. "Attack on whom?"

  "Why, our Siwanoys at Petaquapan. They want me to lead 'em."

  Anneke made a sharp motion. "Not ven they saved Danny! No, Dan, you vouldn't do that! And Telaka forgive you for killing her vader!"

  Daniel banged his great fist on the table. "By the Mass, Anneke! What can I do? We're Dutch subjects, these are orders from our Governor!"

  Anneke frowned, twisting her head from side to side, then she stooped and kissed him on the cheek. "You vill think of something, Daniel, I know. More and more wrongs do not make right."

  Lieutenant Baxter came into the kitchen with Robert, leaving the two Dutch officers in the other room.

  "Well, Captain Patrick," Baxter said. "'Tis getting dusk and time we started." He glanced at Elizabeth's white, strained face. "You've told her? A horrifying thing, brings the danger home when one knows the people involved. Good thing you sent for us, Captain."

  "I didn't," said Daniel. "'Twas Toby Feake."

  "But you killed the chief, Mianos," said Baxter, mildly surprised.

  Drank, he thought. The big Irish captain's face was flushed and sweating. He looked confused. Understandable perhaps. The Hutchinson massacre was enough to addle anybody. "You'll guide us to the Siwanoy Fort, now!" said Baxter in a voice of clear command, designed to penetrate Patrick's daze.

  "Not sure of the way—" said Daniel slowly. "Specially at night. 'Tis a long march through forest."

  Robert stared at his friend. "But, Dan, surely you—"

  Anneke interrupted. "Ve never go to Petuquapan. It is far across a river. Daniel vould get lost."

  They saw Baxter's face darken with puzzled suspicion. Daniel's wits cleared, and he saw a way out. He straightened and spoke with decision. "There's an Indian at Tomac village'd guide us, 'd do anything for wampum and is no friend to the Siwanoy. I'll go get him. 'Twon't take long."

  Baxter was relieved. "Aye, fetch him quickly then."

  Robert looked from Baxter to Daniel. "You can't mean Wasobibbi, Dan?"

  "Aye," said Patrick. And the glare he sent Robert quelled further questions. Baxter paid no attention to Robert's interruption. During the previous conversation in the other room, Baxter had taken Robert's measure. An ineffectual man, obviously guided by Patrick. Baxter returned to the Dutch officers, while Daniel walked off towards Totomack Cove.

  "Why is Dan getting Wasobibbi, wife?" said Robert querulously, sitting down by Elizabeth. "I don't understand him. Why doesn't he guide the troops himself?"

  "Sh-h-h—" whispered Anneke, glancing towards the half-opened door through which they could hear Baxter's voice explaining the plan in Dutch. "Trust Daniel, Robert. Say nothing no matter vat you think. You vouldn't have us betray our friends, vould you, Robert?"

  "Our friends!" he repeated. "You mean the Siwanoy? Lieutenant Baxter says they'll murder us if we don't get them first."

  "Baxter doesn't know them," said Elizabeth with difficulty. Horror and grief for Anne Hutchinson were pressed down by a leaden apathy, while far detached and void of feeling her thoughts made fumbling attempts at reason. Baxter might be right. Daniel and Anneke might both be dangerously blind and mistaken. Anne must have trusted the Weckquasageeks as they were trusting the Siwanoys. Anne Hutchinson who had refused to have guns in her home would never wish revenge, or would she? Had all her teachings been mistaken? And at the end, had she repudiated them? Still, it was not the Siwanoys who had massacred her. Yet even if it were—

  Elizabeth made a weary motion. "Let Daniel do as he wishes, Rob—" she said in a wooden voice.

  Robert jerked his head up, his eyelids blinked fast. The stubborn look hardened his mouth. "I don't need you and Dan to tell me always what I should do," he cried. "I'll make up my own mind. Maybe I'll lead the troops myself. Wasobibbi certainly can't."

  Anneke looked frightened. Elizabeth did not speak. Robert's defiance did not touch her. Suddenly she saw Anne Hutchinson's face as it had been once or twice, luminous, exalted. She heard the tender serenity with which Anne had said, "I do not believe God is ever wroth with those who love enough. For God is love." And where was that face now? Crushed, mangled, burned. The voice silenced forever. And Anne the helpless victim of implacable cruelty which had begun in Boston Meetinghouse. Cast out as a leper she had been, delivered up to Satan, by the ministers, by John Winthrop. She had dared to disbelieve the curse, and had been wrong. The God of Love had not saved her after all.

  Robert tried to voice his protest when Daniel came back with Wasobibbi, but he had no chance at Baxter, who left the house at once to call orders and inspect the men's arms. Robert tried to make his wishe
s clear to the two Dutch officers, who stared at him blankly and shoved him away. He went outside with his gun and Baxter, seeing him, called, "You stay home, Mr. Feake. Guard the women and children. Now then, Patrick, tell your Indian to get going."

  Daniel nodded solemnly and took Wasobibbi's arm. The Indian giggled and muttered, "Wampum, wampum."

  "Wampum—there..." said Daniel pointing to the east—the opposite direction from Petuquapan. "Go find wampum," he said in Siwanoy.

  The Indian giggled again, stroked Daniel's hand like a pleased child and started up the trail, Daniel immediately behind him, followed by the Dutch officers, the hundred and twenty men in single file, and Lieutenant Baxter to bring up the rear.

  Anneke watched them go, though Elizabeth did not. "Almost I could laugh—" said Anneke. She glanced quickly at Robert whom she had forgotten. "Sit down, Rob," she said in a coaxing voice. "I fix you a nice little supper."

  Robert sat down angrily. "'Tis not right. Dan treating me like this. He should tell me what he's doing. I own more land than he does here. He treats me like a fool, and so the officers thought I was. I'm not. I know he's diddling them. Bess, why don't you say something? Baxter's an Englishman, and you put us under the Dutch. Yet all you think of is those Indians."

  "That's not true," she said. "I'm not thinking at all. I don't know what's right. 'Tis cold in here. Shut the door, Rob. I'm very cold."

  Her peculiar tone disturbed him from his grievance. He closed the door, and looked at her anxiously. "'Tis the Hutchinson massacre's upset you so, wife?" he said, patting her shoulder. "A terrible thing. That's why we must wipe the Indians out, don't you see that, my dear?"

  "Don't talk," she said. "Leave me alone."

  "Come—" said Anneke again. "Here is baked pumpkin and oysters for you. Come and eat."

  The night went by. Elizabeth and Anneke put the children to bed. Robert read in his Bible, then slept on the truckle. The women lay down but did not sleep. It was noon that Sunday before they heard male voices and the clink of armor coming down the path.