Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) (56 page)

Opechancanough stood between the girl and the young man and uttered a few words. The braves in the circle whooped in glee, the women clapped their hands, and Opechancanough took the leather tongs that streamed from the girl’s wrists and gravely handed them to Powhatan’s son. Nodding severely, Kitchi led the girl into his hut.

Rowtag bowed his head.
‘Twas a marriage, of sorts. If Kitchi found the girl pleasing, he would accept her as his wife.

Apparently he was not the only observer who understood the significance of the events in the circle, for suddenly William Wythers burst forth from his hiding place in the brush and charged the camp, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Alarmed, Rowtag gave the signal for his men to retreat. Opechancanough’s braves would undoubtedly search the area, and if they were found, all would be dead by morning.

Rowtag allowed five hours to pass, then returned to his place outside the circle. The leaves and limbs where he had lain had been disturbed, but apparently Opechancanough
’s men had given up the search for intruders and returned to the warmth of their campfire. In the fire-tinted darkness Rowtag could see William Wythers tied to a stake, his face red with blood, his eyelids matted to congealed matter that oozed from the sockets where his eyes had once been.

Rowtag
’s gaze slid to the hut where the girl had disappeared and waited. After a space of time, the warrior Kitchi appeared, a smile of relaxed pleasure on his face. He approached his warriors who sat around the fire and they shared a laugh, then one of the braves used a shell to scoop a burning coal from the fire pit and solemnly offered it to Kitchi.

Rowtag looked away, for he knew that the coal was destined to lodge in the boy
’s empty eye sockets. ‘Twas but one of many tortures devised by the Powhatan clan, and the warriors would be busy in their devious activity at least ‘till morning or until the boy died. But as long as they were occupied, the girl could be spirited away.

Rowtag motioned for his men to watch carefully as he slipped to the back of Kitchi
’s hut.

The smell of burning flesh rose from the fire as Rowtag moved soundlessly toward
his goal. He lifted the grass mat that covered the framework of timber limbs and saw Regina sitting inside, her eyes wide, her face smudged with paint and dirt. She made no sign of recognition when she saw Rowtag, and did not move when he urgently motioned to her.

Outside the hut, William Wythers shrieked in pain, and Regina opened her mouth in a silent scream and covered her ears. As softly as a shadow, Rowtag crept in, grabbed the girl
’s bound wrists, and dragged her out through the narrow opening at the back of the hut.

A knock woke Jocelyn in the darkness of night, and she rose to answer the door as her brain swirled in a vague-half sleep. Chogan and Rowtag stood outside the house, and Rowtag carried Regina in his arms, dazed and painted, but alive!

“Oh Father God, thank you,” Jocelyn whispered, opening her arms to her daughter.

From the bed where he slept, Thomas rose and stumbled toward them like a drunken man. “Regina,” he mumbled, reaching for her. “Regina.”

Chogan nodded soberly. “Let her tell you what has happened,” he said, then Jocelyn left the warriors in the dark as she turned to help Regina into the house.

The girl
’s teeth were chattering, but whether from fear or the cold Jocelyn could not tell. She slipped her own tattered blanket about Regina’s shoulders and helped her daughter sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you all right?” Jocelyn asked, running her hands over Regina’s arms and legs.

“Yes,” Regina whispered, clutching the blanket about her. “But William—”

“Don’t speak of it,” Thomas whispered, slipping his arms around his daughter’s shoulders. He comforted her while Regina cried, then, as the sun rose in the east, Thomas helped his daughter upstairs to her room and tucked her into bed.

At the first light of dawn, Jocelyn left Regina sleeping and went to Audrey
’s house. Rowtag, his face lined with exhaustion but otherwise expressionless, opened the door and bid her enter. After Audrey had served Jocelyn a steaming drink, Rowtag sat on a grass mat by the fire and asked if Regina had spoken.

Jocelyn shook her head. “Thomas wanted her to rest,” she explained. “But you must tell me what you know, Rowtag.”

Without embellishment or theatrics, Rowtag then told such a story of horror that Jocelyn wanted to cover her ears and scream for him to stop. But she didn’t, and sat woodenly until Rowtag had told the entire tale. When he had finished, Jocelyn stared at him in horror.

“A bride for Powhatan
’s son?” she whispered, clutching her shawl about her. “My Regina?”

“At least she did not have to face a gauntlet,” Rowtag said. “And Powhatan
’s son, Kitchi, is a brave warrior.”

A distant bell ran in Jocelyn
’s memory. Kitchi. Where had she heard that name?

“Praise the Lord that ye have your daughter home again,” Audrey said, smiling. She sat beside Rowtag and draped an arm over his broad shoulder. “Surely God has worked in this.”

“Yes,” Jocelyn whispered, standing. She thanked Rowtag for his bravery in returning Regina, then went home to tell Thomas what she had learned.

“She was given to this—Kitchi—as a bride,” Jocelyn explained as Thomas sat at the table. His face had tightened into a mask of rage, and she feared he would explode at any minute.

“‘Tis no matter. She is home now,” Thomas said, his hand clenching into a fist.

“But—” Jocelyn shuddered and put her hand over her eyes, unwilling to think of her virgin daughter in the hands of a savage. “Thomas, what if she bears a child?”

“She will not,” Thomas said, abruptly. “If only once—”

“Think again, Thomas, for Regina is the result of one night,” Jocelyn whispered fiercely. “And what if this savage comes back for her?”

“He does not know where she is,” Thomas said, staring at the ashes of the fire. “We will hide her for as long as we must. She can remain in her room. We must keep the news of her return even from the others, so no wayward rumor can reach Powhatan—”

“But what will we say of William?” Jocelyn asked, leaning her head on her hand. “We have to tell his folks what happened.
‘Tis not fair to let them hope he will come home . . .”

Thomas
’ eyes hardened. “Would you tell them how he died? How he was tortured? ‘Tis evil enough that our Regina witnessed the sight of the heathen devils’ work—”

“But William was so brave, bursting into the camp to save her! Surely we should tell his aunt and uncle that he gave his life—”

“We will not speak of William Wythers, or of Powhatan, or his son,” Thomas replied firmly. “We will pretend this has never happened. Regina will forget. She will marry another, in time. God’s will must be done.”

Jocelyn stared at him, frowning, and knew that he did not perceive the irony of his words. Yesterday he would not consider that Regina
’s abduction might be part of God’s will, but today God’s will had been restored. Did God’s will not include both peace and suffering?

She rose and left him at the fire while she went upstairs to check on their sleeping daughter.

Jocelyn and Thomas did not need to worry about hiding Regina. She slept through the day of her homecoming, never stirring, and when she awakened the next morning she stared blankly at Jocelyn and did not speak, neither did she make any effort to climb down from the attic.

Audrey
’s eyes widened in horror when Jocelyn visited and confided in her. “I’ll be wanting to help ye, of course,” she said, reaching for Jocelyn’s hand across the table in Audrey’s kitchen. “If there’s anything I can do—”

“You will soon have more than enough to worry about,” Jocelyn said, pointing delicately to Audrey
’s thickening waistline. “Since you are with child—”

Audrey blushed prettily. “Still, if I can come and talk to Regina, mayhap she
’ll rouse herself. And in time, we can bring her down and take her about the village—”

Jocelyn nodded her thanks. “We will see,” she said simply, fighting back tears of helplessness. “And we will continue to pray.”

Despite the prayers and hopes of her parents, Regina’s dreamlike state continued for weeks. One spring day Jocelyn looked at her daughter’s body and realized that her worst fear had come to pass: Regina would give birth to a grandchild of the savage chief Powhatan.

Thomas refused to believe Jocelyn at first, but six months after the abduction he had to admit that his daughter
’s body carried a child. And on a hot September morning when the baby was born to a mother who neither spoke nor screamed nor cried, Jocelyn caught the infant in her hands and noted that the baby girl had hair as stiff and black as a raven’s wings and skin the color of raw honey. “I think we’ll call her Gilda,” Jocelyn said, wiping the baby’s golden skin. “What say you, Regina? Do you like the name?”

Regina
’s wide eyes seemed not to have noticed that a living being had come from her womb. Jocelyn wrapped the baby in clean cloths and carried her downstairs, placing her in the same trunk that had held Regina as an infant. Thomas sat at the board with his books, watching the scene with undisguised aversion in his eyes. Jocelyn called a warning as she climbed the attic stairs. “Don’t touch my baby,” she said, carefully lifting her skirts as she climbed. “Regina’s in no condition to raise the child. If you don’t want her, Thomas, the baby will be mine alone.”

Regina
’s eyes were mirror brilliant as Jocelyn knelt by her side. “Let me cool your forehead,” Jocelyn said, wringing a cloth in a basin of water. But the clammy skin under her ministering hand was cool, and Jocelyn uttered an indrawn gasp when she saw that Regina’s lips were blue. A scream clawed in her throat as she pressed her head to Regina’s chest and listened vainly for a heartbeat.

As tears of reality fell, Jocelyn sank to the floor and buried her face in the mattress upon which her only child lay.

Fifty-four

T
hat afternoon, while Thomas wept and prayed over the body of their daughter, Jocelyn wrapped the baby in a blanket and left the house. She walked quickly, avoiding the glances of curious passersby, and rapped upon the door of the house where Audrey lived with Rowtag, Fallon, and her newborn son.

Audrey
’s cheerful smile flattened when she saw the seriousness in Jocelyn’s face, and she gasped at the sight of the bundle in her arms. A meowing wail rose from the baby, and Audrey understood immediately why Jocelyn had brought her.

“She needs a nurse,” Jocelyn said simply, handing the child to Audrey. “Since your own Noshi is still at the breast—”

“Certainly, I’ll be happy to nurse this little one as well,” Audrey said, taking the baby as Jocelyn followed her inside the house. Audrey’s son, a chubby, dark-haired infant with pale green eyes, lay in a cradle by the fire while nine-year-old Fallon played with wooden toys on the floor.

Audrey said nothing as she unfastened her bodice, but when the baby had begun to suckle, she looked up at Jocelyn. “How fares Regina?”

Dry-eyed, Jocelyn lifted her head. “Regina is dead.”

Audrey closed her eyes and pressed the baby closer to her. Jocelyn studied Fallon and Noshi and considered that her own family had become as racially mixed as Audrey
’s. Though Thomas hated intermarriage, he was now the grandfather of a black-haired, blue-eyed girl with direct ties to the most powerful chieftain in the land.

“Her name is Gilda,” Jocelyn offered, breaking the silence. “I told Regina so, at the end.”

“‘Tis a fitting name,” Audrey whispered, running her finger over the baby’s delicate brow. “‘Tis a beautiful baby.”

“Yes.” Jocelyn stood
. “I must return to Thomas, but mark me, Audrey, the baby will be mine.”

“Surely.” Audrey shifted the tiny meowing bundle to her other arm. “I
’ll bring her to you when she’s fed.”

“No—keep her tonight, and mayhap tomorrow, until after we bury
Regina.” Jocelyn turned toward the door. “And Audrey,” she called, not looking back.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Jocelyn pulled the door open and stepped out into the September sunlight.

Jocelyn refused to go to the funereal service, and Thomas accepted her wishes without comment. Afterward, when the confused colonists had dispersed from the grassy field where the dead were buried, she slipped from the house and made her way to the graveyard in silence. A fresh mound of earth lay among the graves, and Jocelyn knelt to brush the crumbled soil with her fingers.

Regina lay under her hand. Flesh of her flesh, the miraculous result of a lovely mingling of her body with Thomas
’. Regina had inherited Thomas’ spirit, Jocelyn’s hair, Thomas’ dark skin, Jocelyn’s laugh, and Thomas’ hands. But the girl who had embodied their union breathed no more, and the mental and spiritual fusion that had given her life had long since disappeared.