Grail Quest (6 page)

Before I could take Moyock along on this trip, I had to give him the chance to refuse. “Earlier, I mentioned a long trip. I want you to come with me, but you should know, we will be gone a long time and face many hardships.”

“Hah. Do you think I am not strong enough?”

“Certainly I think you’re strong enough. Tough enough, or I wouldn’t take you.”

“So, what is there to fear?”

“We may run into many enemies. We will travel in places where no White Man has been. Eating will depend on our success as hunters. I’d like you to come, but you don’t have to. It’s your choice.”

“I like to go. Like to go from Jamestown. Some here are my foe. I’m not afraid of hardship. We’re good hunters. I go with you.”

Captain Argyll delayed his journey up the Potomac. Dispatches brought from another ship ordered him to return to London post haste. He loaded his ship with logs and some locally grown tobacco. Since I didn’t know where, and how long, Moyock and I would be traveling, I decided we’d wait until the following spring to start.

Jamestown suffered a miserable cold winter in 1611.
 
Old timers said it was the worst year for snow, ice and prolonged cold temperatures. Food was in short supply. Moyock and I hunted far and wide. Game was scarce and often we retuned empty handed. Two men drowned when they walked out on the thin James River ice to set fish traps. The natives suffered as well. Like the settlers, when their stored food dwindled, weaker members died of starvation. If the winter was grim this far south, I was glad we hadn’t started north.

By March, cold weather receded. The rains came and game returned. As soon as possible, farmers put in seed for their crops of corn and vegetables. Our diet was sorely lacking in the latter. We restocked stores of squirrel, rabbit, deer meat and fish.

Captain Argyll returned again from England on the ides.
 
As soon as he was unloaded, I asked him about his plans for exploring the river he called Potomac.

“Still eager to go, are ye’ lad? Tracking fish flows in the bay, and exploring that tributary are prime goals for me. If you want to go along, be ready by the end of the month.”
 
 
 

Preparing for the journey called for judicious packing. With Moyock along, I had one less horse to carry our needs and goods for trading. I brought my tent with me from England. If need be it would do for the two of us. While on horse back, we could even use the two separate pieces as raincoats.
 
Earlier, I traded my cavalry boots to the tanner. In exchange he made three pair of moccasins for me. He used Pungo’s as a pattern to create mine. In Pungo’s village I hired one of his women to make a deerskin suit and cap for me. I paid her with cloth and tobacco. I would wear my felt hat as long as it held out. Winter clothing was a problem that I couldn’t solve here. I knew it could freeze in Jamestown, and surely it would be colder further north. Of course, I didn’t vocalize anything about proceeding north.

Captain Smyth arranged for me to meet with the Governor and Council. I said, “I propose that Captain Argyll put Moyock and myself ashore as far up the Potomac as he can sail.
 
From there we’ll proceed south, or southwesterly, until we come to definite uplands. Depending on the topography of the hills, we’ll head south. I’ll map our entire route. Along the way we’ll pan for gold in any likely streams we cross. We’ll come back east from a point I determine is the same latitude as Jamestown. Hopefully we’ll find the upper reaches of the James.”

The Governor said, “That sounds like a very ambitious undertaking for two men in the wilderness.”

“Sir. We’re both experienced woodsmen and have no fear of the unknown. It should be little more than an extended field trip.”

The Governor said he had no objection to our plan. No one on the council objected until, I said, “Since he is an important part of this plan, I
 
want to teach Moyock how to shoot my flintlock and my pistol. Armed, he may save our lives in dangerous circumstances.”

“No! Yer asking too much, Squire.” A farmer with a face like a burst melon, jumped to his feet. “I don’t want to see any Redskins with firearms. They’re enough trouble with bows and arrows.”

“Moyock ‘s mother was white. He’s been a model citizen here. In any case he’ll be far afield from Jamestown. “

“Hah. How about when he comes back?”

Captain Smyth said, “Squire Allen is a former Cavalry Officer, as I was. I have every confidence that Allen can carryout this plan, and to control young Moyock. I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t press on. Times a wasting.”

The Governor agreed.
 
An
 
era of good feeling and plentiful crops helped persuade the council that there was less need for me to hunt; therefore my expedition made sense. Also, unspoken directly to me, they were happy to have Moyock leave. I suspected there were a few who would like to see the back of me too.

So I wouldn’t have to waste a lot of ammunition during the trip, I was anxious to teach Moyock
 
to shoot before we left, I explained to him, “We’ll be traveling among people who’ve never seen our guns and metal tools. We need to use our bows for hunting.
 
Because we can only carry a limited amount of powder and ammunition, I don’t propose to fire our guns except in dire situations. I think it best to keep our steel knives and hatchets out of sight of people who don’t have such things.”

I still didn’t know who tried to kill me with an arrow.
 
I again asked Captain Argyll for the name of the other late passenger. “My logs and records for that trip are back in London.”
 
He was on his third voyage to Jamestown. “As best as I can recall, ‘is name was Jones. Maybe Henry Jones. I’ve not seen ‘im
 
‘ere at Jamestown since we first arrived.”

Any time I was out alone, not knowing who or where Jones was, kept me on edge. A man could hide anywhere in these thick forests. One day as I rode my gelding south along the shore of the settlement, the horse nickered and shied
 
away from the woods. He doesn’t startle easy. Something is afoot. Then I heard movement in the brush. A man rose and aimed a matchlock at me. His shot whistled past my head.
 
I dropped to the beach. Using my horse for a shield I scrambled to the edge of the woods. The man stood and fired his pistol at me. A poor shot, only nicked my shoulder.

Now I knew where the villain was. I jumped back on my horse. Shouting like a berserk hyena, I charged. He made the mistake of trying to load again. We came hard against him before he could aim his piece. My gelding smashed right into him…threw him against a good sized tree. My only weapon this close to the camp was my hatchet. I leaped off my charger prepared to smash in his skull. There was no need. His chest was severely damaged. He was a goner. Still alive, his eyes opened. Gasping, “The devil take ye’ Englishman!
Curse ye’ for hunting the Welsh!”
 
He had to know I was after the Holy Grail! He died.

I dragged him back to Jamestown. I made the mistake of telling Captain Smyth exactly what he said with his dying breath.

“This is seemingly strange. Twice he tries to kill you. Jones, I reckon, is a Welsh name, and why did you hunt them?”

“I think he must have been daft. I didn’t know him, and I‘ve never been to Wales. P’raps there were renegade Welshmen among the Germans I’ve killed.”

“Aye. Well now we’ll never know for sure .”

Preparing for our trip, Moyock and I loaded as much as we dared on the third horse. To carry food and ammunition, we rigged some bags behind my saddle and back of Moyock’s seat.
 
For trade goods I packed hatchets, small knives, packs containing tobacco, some colorful cloth, and bells, beads and copper gewgaws.

Argyll wasn’t happy to see my horses again. “The best part is ye’ won’t be with me long. I ken I’m to drop ye’ off well up the Potomac. When I put ye’ ashore, I hope ye’ don’t attract anymore unhappy natives. Might not be able to save yer hide next time.”

 
A storm and rough water out on Cheasapek Bay reminded me of the Atlantic. Once again I studied the waves closer than I wanted too. If I was sick, poor Moyock thought he felt too bad to live. “Squire…Squire…my insides will be the next thing up…and the last.”

A nearby sailor laughed. “Then I ‘spect you’ll turn inside out! Hang in there, boy. No one dies from seasickness.”

“But I want to. I want too.”

“You’ll get over it,” I said. “First time at sea I was so sick I thought I’d cough up my balls, but I lived. So will you.”

I felt the boy’s misery very keenly. The next day sunshine and the relatively calm of the river mouth eased our pain. With twists in the river, and a cautious approach over an unknown bottom, we were three days in reaching the falls.

In making our way north, I planned to stay as close to the river as possible. To delay any suspicions on the part of Argyll, I explained that I would continue along the river until close to the distant hills…before turning south.

Soon we came upon a Natural village of an unknown tribe. The only people there were the too old to travel. I suspected the rest knew about the ship only three miles away. And here were strange White Men with strange animals entering their village. We proceeded slowly. Moyock signaled to an old man that we were friendly. I broke out a pipe and offered the old one a smoke. Within minutes people cautiously approached us from the woods.

Since we had most of the day before us, I didn’t want to spend anymore time here than necessary. Moyock’s sign language explained our need to move on. These people were stunned by our appearance. Thankfully they were afraid of the horses. I distributed some tobacco to the important men, then swung up in my saddle to leave. They were delighted when Moyock leapt to the back of his horse and rode without a saddle.

We followed the river till an hour before sunset. We could see where the river made a turn north and decided to camp. Now I explained to Moyock the real reasons for our trek; about the Welsh and Holy Grail,.

“What you do if Welsh want to keep this fancy cup?”

“Since they stole it, I’ll just have to convince them of the error of their ways.”

“Hah. You think you just talk them out of it?” Moyock was more amused than concerned. For him this was just a jolly adventure.

“What ever it takes, we’ll get it back.”

My spooky red-head returned that night with her hair in whorls above her ears. Her face was turned slightly away from me. I thought she meant to lead me somewhere. When I awoke her image still haunted my puzzled brain.

The next few days we followed the course of the Potomac. At a break in the hills, another big river flowed from the south into it. Here the Potomac turned a definite north through hilly country. Often by staying on the higher ground we were able to see bends in the river. We saved time by skirting the elbows. Some days traveling fast through wide valleys, on others slowed down by the hilly terrain, we never lost sight of the river.

On a dark gloomy day, heavy overcast and occasional drizzle, I began to feel that twitch on my back that someone or something, was behind me; that someone was watching me. We followed a narrow trace along a mountainside. Above us the forest was broken up with patches of boulders strewn by an ancient hand. Ahead of us our path appeared to twist among them. Down hill was more open, but too steep to ride across. I stopped to look at the trail ahead and listen. I looked back at Moyock. He said, “A doe ran scared above us.”

Not a good sign. Something frightened it. Well, I didn’t know of anything that ought to scare us. Seeing nothing or no one, I pushed forward. “Keep your eyes open for any other movement.”

“Above us! Above us!”

”
HAAhhhh yayaya!
”
 

A grotesque figure sprang out on a rock above me. Leaping and screaming it jabbed a spear at me! I knocked it aside! The demon missed. Howling and dancing about, other Naturals appeared above and behind us. I fired at the leader. Missed. The thunder of my flintlock brought religion to suddenly frozen warriors. I fired my pistol, causing en masse retreat back up into the woods. Behind me I saw Moyock’s horse stumble and fall down the hill.

There was no use in trying to follow the villains up the rocky and thickly wooded hillside. Once I was sure they no longer threatened us, I turned my attention to Moyock. Downhill, he was standing, but this horse was not. Farther along I saw a shallower grade, so leading the two horses, I brought them down to Moyock’s level. He was shaking his arm.

“What happened?”

“Demon threw rock. Struck horse’s leg. Make her stumble. We slide down hill. I leap off. I not hurt bad.”

Moyock‘s arm was injured but not broken. The horse was not so lucky. The compound fracture of a front leg meant her day was over.
 
Her almost crying noises prompted me to reload my pistol and dispatch her to horse heaven.
 
Not forgetting the banshees, I reloaded both weapons.

I cleaned Moyock’s forearm as best I could. It quit bleeding and he could move it. As young and healthy as he was, I figured at worse his arm might be stiff for a few days. I didn’t
 
want to remain in such a vulnerable situation. We loaded as much as we could, of the dead animals pack, onto our remaining horses and set out again. We left behind some goods that I regretted our tormentors would get. I wondered if they would eat horseflesh?