Riverbreeze: Part 2 (18 page)

Jamie ignored Robert and turned to Owasewas. “Will he take knives…?” Jamie asked, grasping the hilt of his big hunting knife and drawing it out of its sheath, showing it to Owasewas. “Or axes or an iron pot for his women?”

“Or honey!” Robert added hopefully. Hearing Jamie mention the pot reminded him of how much the Powhatans loved his honey. Robert had been extremely surprised when he had learned that honey bees were not native to this land and that before the English people had imported honey bees to the new world, Indians had never tasted honey before. Robert had always brought a pot or two of honey as a gift to Owasewas’ people whenever he had visited in the past. Perhaps now Opechancanough would consider the honey enough to trade for Connelly. “I would rather not trade my knife.” He added, putting his hand on Jamie’s forearm.

Owasewas scratched at a spot on his chest under his necklace, considering. Finally he smiled. “Yes, honey…good.” He couldn’t help licking his lips. But then his smiled faded as he continued, “And knives and
tomahacks
. We try.”

Robert regarded him for a moment. It occurred to him that if Owasewas failed at this, the young man might be severely punished. But he still wouldn’t trade his guns. Finally he nodded, satisfied. “All right. Our two knives, two pots of honey and two small axes.” He said, knowing that they could hardly spare any more. “Good enough?” He looked expectantly at Owasewas.

“We try.” Owasewas repeated. He didn’t sound too convincing.

Robert sighed. “Connelly better appreciate what we’re doing for him.” He turned to Jamie, clapping him on the back. “Well, Jamie, we better change. We can’t go tramping through the backcountry dressed like this.”

* * *

And then just before the brothers stepped into the house, Jamie stopped Robert with a hand on his shoulder. Looking into his eyes, he said softly, “What will you do if you see Makkitotosimew? Will you tell her about Elizabeth?”

Robert sighed. “I’ll have to. She won’t understand it, but this will probably be the last time I see her.”

“Are you sad?” Jamie asked.

Robert thought about it for a moment. “Actually, no, I’m not.” Then he smiled contentedly. “Elizabeth suits me just fine.”

* * *

By the time Robert and Jamie changed into their buckskin leggings, shirts and moccasins, and informed the girls of their change of plans and collected the honey, the hatchets and food for the journey, it was midmorning. Stepping out of the house a second time, they faced the exhausting prospect of walking twelve miles through the woods and meadows to the Powhatan winter hunting grounds to rescue their runaway.

Robert figured it would take them a good three hours if they could keep a decent pace, but he was extremely worried that Jamie wouldn’t be able to complete the journey and that he and Owasewas would have to leave him behind somewhere, most likely at the crossing of the Chickahominy River or even before that. Originally when Robert had insisted that Jamie come with him to the sheriff’s, since they owned Connelly jointly, Robert hadn’t been too concerned about Jamie’s stamina. Paddling a canoe three miles, especially with a second person, would not have been that strenuous. But now… even Evelyn had voiced her worries to Jamie while he had changed; Robert had overheard their whole conversation despite their attempts to keep their voices down. But Jamie had been his stubborn self, insisting that he was feeling well enough and strong enough for the journey.

Almost as stubborn as myself
, Robert thought to himself. This journey would test his own stamina and there was the question of whether his own leg would hold out. Ever since Maureen had wrapped it, it had been feeling better, but this long hike could strain it again.

And even though Owasewas had already made the journey once this morning, Robert wasn’t at all worried that he couldn’t turn right around and make the return trip without breaking a sweat. Robert knew that the Indian youth was fit enough to run all day if he had to.

They started walking in the opposite direction of the James River, towards the back of Riverbreeze. Despite carrying one jug of honey along with his longbow, Owasewas, eager to return to his village, kept up a pretty good pace past the gardens, the chicken yard, the tobacco barn and through the harvested tobacco fields. Surprisingly Jamie stayed right at his side, chatting companionably. He wasn’t carrying anything in his hands, but had his pistol, his knife and one hatchet tucked into his belt which he had to constantly steady against his hipbone as he walked.

Robert, also carrying one jug of honey and a small sack of apples and dried venison for their journey, and similarly armed with pistol, knife and hatchet, easily kept pace with the two others, but stayed a step behind Owasewas and his brother, allowing them to lead the way. Originally Robert had wanted to use the trip to the sheriff’s as an opportunity to talk with Jamie about the girls’ ability to dream about the future. He still didn’t know if Evelyn had told Jamie about their ‘gift’ and unfortunately now he would have to wait until much later, probably during the trek home, to find out. He certainly couldn’t talk to Jamie about it now, in front of Owasewas.

However, he could have talked to Owasewas about Makkitotosimew. He could have asked Owasewas how she was doing, but he didn’t. And he was fairly surprised that Owasewas hadn’t mentioned her, but this visit had been all business, not a social call.

Thinking about her did make Robert a little sad though, mostly for her. He was not quite that heartless that he couldn’t say goodbye without feeling something. He knew that she would be there, lovely and willing, her smile shy but her dark brown eyes sparkling with joy at the sight of him.

Almost a full two years ago, actually only one month after Kathleen’s death, when Owasewas had taken Robert and Jamie to his village for the first time, Owasewas had tried to explain to the brothers that, as important guests, a woman might be presented to each of them to use as they wished. Robert and Jamie hadn’t believed it, but after meeting and smoking with the chief, several priests and werowances and many important men of the tribe, and having been deemed friendly and worthy, two attractive women in their late teens, their firm, comely bodies freshly painted red with puccoon and grease, their long black hair falling down their backs and wearing only a fringed deerskin apron, had indeed been presented to them. At first Robert had found the strange red dye that had been smeared all over their skin slightly repulsive, but he hadn’t wanted to be insulting; he thought that refusing the young woman who had been chosen for him would be fatal to him. So he agreed to her company, thinking that he would only sit with the young lady and share food with her, but once they were alone, and being young, healthy and grieving for his recently deceased wife, and gently persuaded by the attractive girl, it wasn’t long before they were sharing their bodies.

Later on he found out that Jamie had not used the girl that had been presented to him; somehow Jamie had resisted and at the same time, managed to not insult anyone. Robert had admired Jamie for this gentlemanly behavior, but ultimately, at that devastating time in his life, holding himself to some moral code didn’t matter. Away from English society, he didn’t care how he behaved, and among the savages, he became one of them.

And ever since then, every time he visited the village, Makkitotosimew would be there waiting, eager to take him to their secret hideaway along a little creek; and under a majestic willow tree Robert could forget about the responsibilities of his life and they would laugh and play and make love. How would he explain to her now that he couldn’t be with her anymore? How would he explain to her that he was married to another woman and would be faithful only to his wife when he knew she had also married over a year ago, but was permitted to seek out extramarital dalliances with the consent of her husband? She would not understand; her husband had more than one wife. Why couldn’t Robert keep more than one wife? Yes, why couldn’t he?

Robert thought about it. The two would never know, or at least, Elizabeth would never know. Elizabeth would never meet Makki, as Robert called her for short; Elizabeth would never go to the village; she would never see her. But he couldn’t do that. He was an English gentleman; and an English gentleman had one wife and was faithful to that one wife. And as he had just told Jamie, he was completely satisfied with Elizabeth; Elizabeth was surprisingly free and sensual and she did suit him perfectly. His decision made, he had to say goodbye to Makkitotosimew.

The journey was mostly uneventful. Walking as they were, swiftly and noisily, they didn’t even see much wildlife other than occasional sightings of squirrels, woodchucks and wild turkeys and once, far off, two white-tailed deer. While all the animals would have made a fine dinner, the three men passed them by, other pressing business in mind. At some point while they were walking through a dense pine forest, the clouds must have broken up. Occasional shafts of bright sunlight shone down on them through a break in the giant pine trees. Outside the forest they stopped twice to allow Jamie to rest, the second time at a small, swift-running creek where they sat in the early afternoon sun, quenched their thirst and shared the apples and dried venison. Robert rested his leg as well; much to his annoyance, the pain of his sprained ankle had returned.

Another mile or two and they would be at the village. Robert’s heartbeat sped up. He became nervous, an emotion he normally didn’t feel when visiting Owasewas’ people. But today he wasn’t coming for pleasure; today he was facing two unpleasant tasks; negotiating for his servant and saying goodbye to his lover.

* * *

The small temporary village had been set up in a sparsely wooded area alongside a clear, freshwater stream. It took up about ten acres of land, and there were perhaps fifteen less solid traveling longhouses scattered about, not in any particular order. There were all sorts of normal daily activity going on, mostly women and a few children tending to the fires and food preparation, weaving mats from reeds and twisting silk grass into cordage. A group of older men along with a few boys around the age of ten or eleven were settled outside one of the houses, stringing bows, knapping arrowheads and exchanging information. Because this was the winter village, there were no gardens, but there were two circular areas where the tribe could assemble to pray or celebrate with a feast.

Further into the village Connelly was bound securely to a short sycamore tree, facing outwards for everyone to see and not far from a large fire pit. How long he had been there Robert couldn’t tell. But the moment he saw his runaway servant, he hardened his expression. “What a fool.” He said in a voice full of contempt.

“Oh God.” Jamie moaned, a little more sympathetic.

“I warned him not to run away. I
told
him. The stupid fool.” Robert repeated, angry.

The teenager was naked; he looked like he had been beaten. Exhausted and filthy, his head hung down, his stringy hair falling in his face. He had bloody scratches all over him and his injured knee was swollen to three times its normal size. Little naked children, boys and girls alike, were swarming around him like flies, darting in and poking him with sharpened sticks or throwing stones at him. Every so often Connelly would get a burst of energy and he’d swear and yell at the children, but all they would do is laugh and run back to their mothers who would receive them with loving embraces.

Their arrival was noticed by all, including Connelly who screamed and cried at the sight of his masters. He struggled against his bonds until he exhausted himself and hung limply. “Master Robert.” He blubbered. “Thank God; thank God you’re here. I’m sorry for running away. Help me; help me.” His voice trailed off as he continued to sob helplessly.

Robert couldn’t help himself; he couldn’t ignore Connelly’s pleas. He took a limping step in the boy’s direction, but Owasewas blocked his way. “No.” He said firmly, then took both jugs of honey and went directly to the largest longhouse shaded by a huge tree, leaving Robert and Jamie alone and confused.

“What do we do now?” Jamie asked, watching Owasewas walk away.

Robert just shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we wait.”

But as if some silent signal had been given, the numerous little boys and girls abandoned their sport with Connelly and came running to greet the brothers instead. All of the children were nude, their healthy, sturdy bodies smeared with animal fat. They smiled and chattered and surrounded the brothers, their little faces bright with joy. Some of the boys, still excited from their torture of Connelly, played a game of touching Robert and Jamie and then raced off, then ran back to touch them again. And some of the youngest girls came forward shyly, their black eyes huge with curiosity.

Realizing he couldn’t help Connelly, Robert turned his attention to the children. Both Robert and Jamie returned their greetings, genuinely happy to see them. Robert’s face softened and he held hands with as many as he could manage. Jamie did the same, laughing at their bright smiles, for the moment forgetting all about Connelly. Robert also surreptitiously scanned the village, looking for Makkitotosimew but he didn’t see her. He also thought it strange that none of the other women came forward to greet them.

Shrugging his shoulders to himself, for the moment he decided to relax and enjoy the interaction with the children. They were always so free and happy and full of healthful vigor; and he often wondered if their way of raising children was better than the English way. The littlest ones reminded him of Robin and he felt a sudden pang of longing for his son, but quashed it, believing that Robin was being well cared for by Maureen.