Cate of the Lost Colony (17 page)

Into the silence I spoke the words I had carefully rehearsed. “
I am Cate Archer. I come with medicine for the sick boy.
”

There was no reply from within the house, though it seemed occupied. Had they not understood me?

Cooper murmured something about an ambush but Graham dismissed him. “What are they waiting for?” he said. “We’ve been sitting ducks since the moment we landed.”

“Let’s search the houses for stores of food,” said Cooper.

Before I had a chance to object, the mat was pushed aside and Takiwa stepped outside. A second face, thin with hunger, peered from the opening. It was Mika. Takiwa held up her empty arms. She let out a stream of words, most of which I could not understand, but I knew what she meant by them. Her son was dead.

My own eyes filled with tears, a better ambassador than any words. I stepped toward her and she motioned me into the house. It was dark inside but smoky and warm. As my eyes adjusted, I saw how spacious it was. The walls were hung with baskets, dried herbs, furs, nets, and quivers of arrows. The fire had been covered when they heard us coming, but the old woman rekindled it. I was offered a bitter-tasting tea, which I drank so as not to offend. My halting efforts to speak Algonkian had some success. I learned Takiwa and Mika were Tameoc’s sisters. The old woman was their grandmother. She was weak but otherwise healthy. The other women were also kin. They had no food except acorn meal and a few strips of dried meat. Tameoc and the men had gone hunting. There had been no sign of Wanchese lately.

Mika was shivering and appeared feverish. I gave Takiwa the medicine and, remembering what Alice had told me, explained how to administer it. I said nothing about my plan to bring them prosperity, for to speak of my own dreams seemed a mockery of their misery. Before I left, Takiwa gave me a mantle made from fox furs, which they had in abundance. They would have traded these for food if there had been any. But in all the neighboring villages was nothing but hunger and sickness.

When we returned to Fort Ralegh, Bailey was angry with Cooper and accused us all of insubordination. Ananias, however, persuaded him that to punish us—especially me, a lady—for aiding a few Croatoan women would cause many of the colonists to turn against him.

Alice was relieved to see me alive, and Eleanor said grudgingly, “I needed your help with Virginia.”

There were two more deaths among the colonists before the snow melted and spring announced herself with birdsong and shoots of greenery. I was glad so many of us had survived our first winter in Virginia, and I hoped Mika was well again. I was eager to return to Dasemunkepeuc and build upon my friendship with the Croatoan women, the dream of which had helped carry me through the winter. With the coming of spring, hopes were rekindled that a relief ship would come, while Bailey and his supporters revived plans for moving to Chesapeake.

Bailey made no attempt to stop the visits to Dasemunkepeuc. He told Graham he hoped we would be killed for our troubles and thus end his. For my part, I was glad to escape the company of the anxious and divided colonists for that of the Indian women. Mika had recovered her health and was always glad to see me. She patiently corrected my errors in speaking, then had me repeat what she said. By this method my knowledge of Algonkian grew, and soon all the women could understand me.

Graham was always pleased to come along as my protector, though we encountered no dangers. Then I realized he had been watching Mika. As yet she wore a mantle against the cold, but in the summer months when all the women bared their breasts, would he stare all the more? Mika was of an open and generous nature. One day she gave me a small cup lined with mother-of-pearl. She gave Graham one also. He had learned a few words of Algonkian and he thanked her, which made her turn away shyly.

“You have not forgotten Lady Anne, have you?” I admonished him.

“No more than you can forget Sir Walter,” he countered.

“But he and I were never to one another what you and Anne were—
are
to each other,” I said. “Your affection was apparent and ours never spoken.” I thought of Ralegh’s letter I had read aboard the
Lion
almost a year ago. It had been full of regret and sorrow and even hope, but not love.

“I do not think of Sir Walter often,” I admitted with some truth. It seemed vain to dwell on the past or wish for an uncertain future. When I thought of the touches, the words and the poems we had exchanged, it was all about the anticipation of love, the secrecy of it. Never the fulfillment, which might have ruined the pleasure itself.

“Now he and I belong to different worlds, as unalike as the sun and the moon,” I said.

“But if he were to come to
this
world—,” Graham prompted.

“We would all be glad, for we would no longer be in want. But where are the ships he promised?”

Graham shook his head. “Perhaps Ralegh has suffered financial ruin or lost the queen’s favor. John White may have been shipwrecked. The plague may have struck and carried off half the people of London. Or the Spanish have invaded England. The queen might be dead and King Philip on the throne, for all we know.”

“Are you trying to frighten me, Thomas Graham?”

“No, my dear. But I do think I am unlikely to see an English ship or my Lady Anne again.” He looked so forlorn I thought he might weep.

“Then we must make the best of our circumstances here and learn to live alongside the Indians,” I said.

And so I continued my efforts to learn the ways of the Croatoan women. I followed them to the swamps where they gathered reeds and watched as they wove them into mats. They showed me which roots were edible and which ones would sicken me. I learned to identify huckleberries, cranberries, and mulberries, which I took back to the island and made into preserves. I picked wild peas and helped to harvest rice from a shallow lake; I ground nuts and acorns and even made bread out of them. All this knowledge I shared with the other colonists in the hopes that our second winter would not be as desperate as the first.

Mika and I became close friends. She loved to dress my hair, tying it behind my head after the Indian fashion. One day she turned up my sleeve and, using a dark blue dye, embellished the skin of my arm in a lacy pattern. I felt like one of the queen’s ladies preparing for a masque. She offered to dress me in a deerskin like her own, but I did not want to bare so much of my flesh. I wished that Emme and Anne could see me and hear me speak the Indians’ tongue as easily as they themselves spoke French.

While Graham and I were at Dasemunkepeuc the hunters returned, arriving as quietly as the fog that rolls in from the sea. Graham saw them first and called to me. I followed the women as they came out to greet the hunters, who were dragging the carcass of a deer on a sledge. To my surprise Manteo was with them, wearing not his English clothes but a deerskin around his loins and a torn shirt. At the sight of me and Graham he looked displeased.

And then I noticed Tameoc, his arm wrapped in a bloody cloth. It appeared to be the sleeve from Manteo’s shirt. How had he become injured? My gaze went to his belt, from which a bloody patch of skin and hair dangled. I thought of the dead men’s skulls atop the Tower gate in London. For the first time I felt a tremor of fear in the Indians’ presence. Who had Tameoc slain, and how was Manteo involved?

But it was not only the piece of scalp that made me afraid. Also tucked into Tameoc’s belt was a bright new sword. I knew it had to be the sword missing from Chapman’s shop, the one James Hind had died for. Tameoc must be the one who had stolen it, and as soon as Roger Bailey found out, there would be trouble.

Chapter 28

I, Manteo, Meet the Moon Maiden

O
ne of the legends my mother used to tell me has become part of my dreams. Now I cannot separate it from the dream. Which one is true? They are both as true as life itself. This is what I know.

One evening Algon the hunter was returning home from the forest when he came upon a group of maidens singing in a clearing. Among them was one who outshone the others in beauty as the moon outshines the stars. At his approach the fair maiden fled, leaving her companions behind. Algon’s heart, which had risen with hope, fell with disappointment. The other maids tried to cheer him but he only begged, “Bring back the fair one.” They replied, “We cannot make her come or go; she obeys her own will.”

Every day Algon visited the clearing, hoping to see the maid again. He thought of her always, the Moon Maid with her bright eyes and gleaming dark hair. His ears strained to hear the song of her laughter. A month later he was rewarded with the sight of her. Again she fled, laughing as if this were a game. This gave Algon an idea. The third month he captured a hungry wolf. From his hiding place he released the wolf into the circle of maidens. They fled in terror, leaving the Moon Maiden facing the growling beast. Algon came forth and loosed an arrow into the wolf’s neck. The beast turned on him, but with his bare hands he choked it to death. The grateful Moon Maiden fell into his arms and he carried her home. He treated her with kindness and she returned his love, but in secret she mourned. Large tears fell from her eyes and covered the ground with dew. Did she weep for her lost freedom? Had she loved another? She would not say, and Algon had to content himself, knowing he could never understand the woman he loved.

When I came with the hunters to Dasemunkepeuc, I saw the fair-skinned maiden among Tameoc’s kinswomen. The one who had asked for my help with the fishing weirs, the one they called Ladi-cate. And like Algon, I was stricken at the sight of her beauty. But what was she doing in Dasemunkepeuc? Did she not know the danger? She did not flee like the Moon Maiden, though her eyes regarded me warily.

Takiwa dressed her brother’s wound. I described how a party of Roanoke had attacked us for our food. Tameoc slew one of them, and now they would seek revenge.

Ladi-cate stepped forward and asked, “
Lord Manteo, are you not king of the Roanoke, by the authority of our queen?
”

It amazed me to hear her speak my tongue. “
The Roanoke follow Wanchese
,” I said, then went on in English: “Wanchese will not heed your kwin.” What the English did not know yet was that Wanchese planned to destroy them. That he expected me to assist him. How much time did I have before he would fulfill his threats?

Ladi-cate pointed to Tameoc. “Can you not keep your own people from stealing from us?” She looked more distressed than angry. “Do you know what strife that sword has caused among us?”

Yes, I knew Tameoc had stolen the sword. I had rebuked him, but he refused to give it up. He believed the montoac in the shining weapon would bring him success in hunting. Now Ladi-cate demanded an explanation. But I did not owe her one. She was a woman, not one of the governor’s assistants. I crossed my arms against her.

She glanced toward Takiwa and Mika, then turned back to me. Her eyes were wet as she pleaded, “Lord Manteo, if Roger Bailey and the others learn of Tameoc’s theft, we will be friends no more, but enemies.”

“Tameoc steals only to provide for his people,” I said.

“I would not go to war over a sword, but I do not make the decisions,” she replied.

This was a wise woman, I could see. The soldier Grem stood beside her, looking displeased. Would he tell Bay-lee that Tameoc was a thief and Manteo his accomplice?

“
Who are … you with, Manteo
?” Ladi-cate halted over the words, but her meaning was clear.

How could I answer such a question? For I am on two sides. I am the windward shore of the island and the calm one. I am the inside and the outside of the clay pot. Wanchese also demanded I choose. But how can I? There is but one island and one pot.

“I am Manteo of Croatoan, Lord of Roanoke and Dasemunkepeuc and servant of Kwin-lissa-bet.”

Ladi-cate looked relieved. She even smiled. Not even Algon had such good fortune. Was this a dream? I struggled to keep my mind on the serious matter before me: keeping the trust of the English. Keeping Ladi-cate and her people safe. Would Algon have let the wolf devour his Moon Maiden?

“And as Lord of Dasemunkepeuc, I ask you to return to your fort,” I said.

Ladi-cate’s eyes grew wide with surprise to be spoken to in such a way. Then she bowed slightly as the English do before their kwin.

“
We will, Lord Manteo
,” she said.

“
For your own safety, Moon Maiden
,” I whispered to myself.

I went to Croatoan to find that Wanchese had threatened my mother if she did not join his alliance. She agreed to be his ally, deceiving him. She sent me to offer the English our best warriors if they would fight Wanchese in her name.

I went back to Fort Raw-lee. I told the assistants that sickness and death had weakened Wanchese and the Roanoke. That the English and the Croatoan together could defeat him. But I admitted this might provoke the Secotan and others to retaliate. In the men’s faces, the desire to defeat Wanchese battled with their mistrust of me. I said I would show Wanchese that I—not he—was lord of the Roanoke by the authority of their Kwin-lissa-bet.

The assistants made me leave John-white’s house while they debated what action to take. I waited by the garden gate. Doubted the truth of what I had said. Was it the kwin and John-white who gave me my power, or was it the gods? Had not my mother’s people—and Wanchese’s—dwelt here and called the land Ossomocomuck for many generations before the English weroance claimed it and called it Virginia? The priests had chosen my name. Manteo, “he who snatches from another.” What did my name mean? How would I live up to it?

I did not realize Ladi-cate was in the garden until I heard her call my name.

“Lord Manteo, will you come in?”

I opened the gate and went to her. The gray mists that were her eyes seemed to enfold me, so I looked away from them.

“You did not go back to Dasemunkepeuc, did you?” I asked.

“You do not rule me,” she replied with a smile.

I hardly knew what to think of a woman who would not heed a man’s will. Even Weyawinga and Ladi-cate’s kwin took advice from their male councilors. Was it my young age? Did Ladi-cate see that although I was tall, I had only lately entered my manhood?

“When I came here I said I would never dig in the dirt,” she was saying. “But Takiwa gave me these seedlings. I will transplant them when we move to Chesapeake. If I did not go to Dasemunkepeuc, I would not have these new plants and Takiwa would not have the medicine that made her sister well.”

She brushed off her hands and went inside, bidding me wait. I stood in the garden like a stone unable to move itself. Ladi-cate was talking to me without any fear. She was no Moon Maiden from a story, but a woman I might touch if I dared.

Ladi-cate returned with a notebook full of writing and pictures of our lodges and their furnishings, our food, ornaments, and more. She was proud of her book and let me examine it.

“It does not please the English men when you go among Indians,” I said.

“No, nor many of the women,” she agreed. “But I am not afraid, for Wanchese has not been seen since George-howe was killed eight months ago. Is it true he has moved inland because he is afraid of us?”

“If the assistants would heed me, they would learn the truth about Wanchese,” I said bitterly. “The Croatoan are in danger and so are you. This is why I ask you to avoid Dasemunkepeuc.”

Ladi-cate looked startled. Now I expected her to run away. But she did not. No, she beckoned me to her.

“Then you, Manteo, must come with me. Wanchese will not dare to harm you.”

I could not say no to Ladi-cate. Already she had overcome my will. Oh, had I but ruled myself and her as well, how much suffering might have been spared?