Savage Betrayal (43 page)

“My father is insistent that I marry Throws Away Wealth,” confided Sarita. “I told him I refuse, but it’s as if he’s deaf.” She indicated the two guards with a slight inclination of her head. “Not so deaf that he can’t set guards on me, however,” she added bitterly.

Precious Copper’s glance flitted briefly over the guards. She eyed Sarita sympathetically but said nothing.

“And my brother,” continued Sarita, “says marriage to Throws Away Wealth is the answer to my problems.” She snorted. “Some answer.”

“Did you tell Feast Giver that Throws Away Wealth said he’d kill your child when it is born?” asked Precious Copper.

“I told him, alright. It didn’t do any good. He just laughed and said Throws Away Wealth wouldn’t dare risk our family’s anger like that.” She sighed heavily. “I think Feast Giver doesn’t want to believe me. All he’s concerned about is making an alliance with the Kyuquots.”

“I know he wants that very much,” acknowledged Precious Copper. “Although I see Feast Giver frequently,” and here Sarita noticed a blush staining her friend’s cheeks, “he never says anything about his plans to attack my people. Maybe he thinks if he doesn’t remind me, I’ll forget we’re enemies.” She, too, sighed.

Sarita nodded. “He put off the raid until our village was safely moved to the winter site. Any day now, he and his men will be ready to raid the Ahousats.”

“Oh. I thought he was putting it off because of dog salmon season.”

“No. I know we need fish, but the dog salmon seem to be running late this moon. I think Feast Giver is hoping he can attack your people and still return in time for the big harvest of dog salmon.” Sarita added worriedly, “I hope he doesn’t miscalculate. We need those fish.”

Precious Copper nodded. Then she asked, “Do your warriors always go on raids at this time of year?”

“No. We don’t usually raid in fall or winter when the big rains and snows come, but Feast Giver is out for blood this time. He’s going to lead a raid—and nothing will stop him.”

Precious Copper was silent for a moment. “Feast Giver and I used to argue about that. Now, as I said, he doesn’t mention it anymore,” she repeated sadly.

Sarita patted Precious Copper’s hand. “I know you simply want to protect your people. It
is
difficult when Feast Giver won’t listen to you. Sometimes we women are so powerless,” she mused.

“It seems so,” agreed Precious Copper. “And yet, we can’t give up—I can’t. If I don’t try and change his mind, well, I hate to think what might happen. He could be killed…My brother could be killed…Oh Sarita,” she sighed. “What a mess men make of things!”

Sarita laughed. The two women continued their weaving, Precious Copper said casually, “I happen to know that Feast Giver thought he really was helping you when he suggested to your father that you marry Throws Away Wealth.” She paused. “He knew how upset you were about your father’s order to abort your baby. He thought this marriage would save your baby and your reputation.”

“And provide him with a military ally,” pointed out Sarita caustically.

“Yes, too true,” responded Precious Copper. After a short silence, she asked, “Do you think you could grow to love Throws Away Wealth?”

“What? That filthy little man?” shrieked Sarita. One of the guards frowned at her. She lowered her voice. “Never!”

Precious Copper kept her eyes intently on her work.

Sarita watched her in silence for a few moments, then said softly, “Precious Copper, I love Fighting Wolf. He’s the only man I could ever think of marrying.” She turned back to her work. She tried to keep her voice indifferent as she added, “I know he doesn’t love me, or even think of me—“

“How can you say such a thing? My brother loves you more than he’s ever loved a woman.”

Sarita looked at her sadly. “No, it’s kind of you to say so, but I know he doesn’t. He was just using me—“

“Don’t say that, Sarita,” implored Precious Copper. “Never has he been so cheerful and happy as he was with you. I could see a real change come over him after he brought you to our home. Why, whenever he was near you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”

Or his hands
, thought Sarita with a blush. Aloud she sighed. “Still, that doesn’t mean he loved me.”

Precious Copper opened her mouth to say something else, then stopped. Sarita was not going to be convinced, no matter what she said. Instead she asked, “When is the wedding between you and Throws Away Wealth to take place?”

Sarita looked down at the weaving in her hands. Too loose, she thought. Then she began to slowly unweave a section she had just finished. “Tomorrow night,” she answered dully. “Nuwiksu says the groom won’t give many gifts for me. It’s supposed to be a quiet ceremony. Just close friends and relatives.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Oh, Precious Copper,” she sighed and Precious Copper heard the despair in her friend’s voice. “For once, I don’t know what to do. My father’s forcing me into this marriage,” she glanced at the two large guards, “and I can see no way out. After I’m married to that—that monster—my baby’s life will be in constant danger. Perhaps mine, too.” She stopped weaving, she was so distraught. “For once, I can’t run away. I have nowhere to go.”

Precious Copper softly touched her friend’s shaking hands. “If only I could help you somehow,” she said earnestly.

Sarita smiled sadly. “You’ve already helped me immensely, by being my friend and by listening to my troubles.” She blinked back tears. “We still have several more cedar mats to weave. They have to be ready for tomorrow night,” her voice quavered, “my wedding celebration.”

“Yes, of course,” responded Precious Copper briskly. The two women finished their weaving in silence, while in the background the two burly guards hovered restlessly.

* * * *

For the first few days of his liberty Rottenwood did nothing remotely resembling work. When his slave friends questioned his laziness, he waved them away with a slow smile. “All my life I’ve worked for someone else,” he explained. “Now I’m resting. Soon I’ll work again. But this time it will be for me!”

The other slaves merely laughed or shook their heads enviously, but Rottenwood didn’t care what they thought. He was the one that was free. He was finding, though, that freedom held a few surprises.

The first day or two he’s spent getting used to the idea that no one owned him any longer. He luxuriated in his new independence and spent the time roaming around the village, looking at houses, places and people with new eyes.

After that, he began to think about what he wanted out of his new life. He’d told Sarita in the first moments of freedom that he’d continue to work for her father and now decided he could live with that commitment. Thunder Maker was by far the best chief in the village, as well as the highest-ranking. Rottenwood had been pleased when Thunder Maker gravely welcomed him into the longhouse as a commoner. He knew the crafty chief wanted to keep hard workers in his longhouse, workers who would contribute to his growing wealth, but still Rottenwood was pleased that the chief had taken notice of him.

Lately, however, his thoughts were consumed with Spring Fern. During slavery, his overwhelming desire had been to be free. Now that he’d attained his liberty, other wants crowded in, but his desire for Spring Fern eclipsed them all. He didn’t know what to do about her. When they’d both been slaves, marriage between them had been a possibility—with Thunder Maker’s approval, of course. Now, there was no hope. Commoners did not marry slaves.

While he wrestled with the problem, he threw himself into hard work. The days of slavery had never felt so good, he thought wryly, as he went to bed each night weary from his labors at fishing or repairing canoes.

Early one morning he decided to paddle out and catch fish for Thunder Maker’s house.

As he walked down the beach to where a small, one-man dugout lay on the gravel, he reveled in the fact that no one called out to him with curt orders that he do some task for them. No one demanded to know where he was going. No one called him to account for taking the canoe. He was free.

A few of the commoners nodded casually to him. Pleased at this sign of acceptance, he nodded back. When he was first freed, he had faced sneers and insults, but not for long. He had defended himself vigorously, both verbally and physically, and now found himself respected by a growing number of his new class.

Late that night, he returned tired and sore, but the five cod and four halibut he carried up to the longhouse made up for his weary body. Abalone Woman took the fish from him and thanked him politely for his efforts. Rottenwood glowed inside. He gloated to himself over the better treatment he received.

After a hasty meal and a bath to get rid of the fish smell, he decided to seek out Spring Fern. She’d had several days to accept the idea of his freedom, and he wondered what she thought of him now.

He walked through Thunder Maker’s longhouse to the chief’s quarters where Spring Fern usually spent her evenings. Stationing himself in the shadows near the door, he waited for a chance to speak with her. He gazed hungrily at her as she hovered close to Sarita where the two were rehearsing a theatrical display with several other women.

All evening long, Spring Fern stayed close to her mistress as they practiced the songs and dance steps over and over. Growing impatient, Rottenwood stepped out of the shadows, hoping to catch Spring Fern’s eye and signal her to meet him outside. He thought she saw him once, but she looked away so quickly, he couldn’t be sure. As the evening wore on, and she continued to avoid his gaze, he realized she was indeed aware of him.

Growing annoyed with her behavior, Rottenwood strode out the door into the night. A heavy rain beat a constant tattoo against the side of the longhouse. He decided not to stroll around as he’d get nothing but a soaking for his efforts. Ducking under the overhang of the roof, he leaned against the corner of the longhouse and looked out into the darkness in the direction of the inlet. He idly wondered how he was going to talk with Spring Fern when it was obvious she was avoiding him.

His speculations were cut short when she exited from the longhouse and slipped quickly into the nearby bushes. Moments later, as she ran back to the longhouse, he called out her name.

Seeing her pause, he asked softly, “Are you avoiding me, Spring Fern?”

His large hand clamped around her waist and Spring Fern felt herself being pulled firmly away from the door.

Rottenwood looked at her hungrily. “Why are you avoiding me? Don’t you know how I want you?”

She looked at him, fear in her dark doe eyes. He saw it and didn’t like it. “What are you afraid of?”

“You.”

“Me? What have I done?”

She shrugged and moved away from him. He noticed the slight movement and reached out for her arm. She tried to shrug out of his tight grip. “You’re hurting me—“

He let her go. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He watched her rub the spot on her upper arm where he’d grasped her. She saw him watching her and stopped. She quivered slightly as he reached out and touched a dark tendril of her hair. “Remember when I asked you to be my wife?” he asked, his voice like a caress.

She nodded, her eyes turning to find his in the darkness. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I remember.” Then pausing to gather her courage she asked, “But since you’re now free, I release you from your promise.”

Spring Fern vowed she would never let him know how much it hurt her to say those words. “Now…now that you’re a commoner, I know you won’t want a slave for a wife.” She’d added the words hastily, but they lingered between them, cold and hard and honest, then faded away like the ripples on a pond after a rock is cast.

His hand paused in mid-air; his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want anyone else for a wife.”

“But what can we do?” she cried. “You can’t marry me—“

“True,” he cut in in a brutal voice, “but I can make you my mistress.”

She gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

He growled back, “I would.”

She looked into his eyes searchingly. “You would,” she agreed dully.

He ran a brown forefinger slowly down her forearm. She shivered. “Don’t you like the idea?” he asked.

She looked at him incredulously. “It’s quite a fall from being asked to be your wife, to being told I’ll be your mistress,” she said bitterly.

“Yes, I guess it is,” he acknowledged. His admission surprised her. There had been a hint of compassion in his voice.

“You don’t like the idea any better than I do, do you?” she asked perceptively.

“No, I don’t. But it’s the only way we can be together.”

“There’s one other way—“

He looked at her. “What is that? I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. If there was any possibility of marriage—“ His voice told her the hopelessness he felt.

“Let me ask Sarita,” she said eagerly. “I’ll ask her to help us.”

“Sarita!” he snorted with contempt.

Spring Fern was astonished. “Why do you say her name that way? She freed you!”

“Yes,” he agreed disparagingly. “She freed me. And took her time doing so, too. Before we left Ahousat, we made the agreement. But once she was back home she didn’t need me anymore. She conveniently forgot out pact.” He shrugged. “What can you expect? No one keeps their word to a slave.”

“That’s not true,” flashed Spring Fern. “She kept her word. It was her father who wanted to keep you as a slave. I heard Sarita and Thunder Maker wrangling over you many times.”

Rottenwood looked at her. “Let’s not argue about what she did or didn’t do. I want to talk about us.”

“So do I,” shot back Spring Fern. “I just know that Sarita will help us get married if I ask her.”

“Hmmph, why should she?” He paused, then asked, “And how can she go against a whole society? Everyone knows that commoners can’t marry slaves. What can she do about it? She has enough problems of her own.” Contempt laced his voice.

“Please,” coaxed Spring Fern softly. “Let me speak with her. At least let me try.”

He stared down at her for a moment. Spring Fern was so beautiful and he wanted her so much. “All right,” he conceded gruffly. “But you’d better come up with something soon. I hear she’s going to marry some Kyuquot chief. After that, she’ll be whisked away to Kyuquot.” He added warningly, “I won’t wait long. Only for one moon.”