The Lost Duchess (30 page)

Ferdinando brought his hand to her arm and gave the flesh a squeeze as if he was testing her plumpness.

‘So do not be coy, dear maid, I am looking forward to your company on the homeward voyage, as I am sure you are looking forward to mine despite your show of diffidence.’

Her skin crawled where he touched her. She shrank away from him clasping her arms together over her chest and squeezing against the side as much as she could. If she had to be dragged away in chains then so be it, let the fault be Ferdinando’s for so ill-treating a lady, and let it be Kit’s for doing nothing to stop him. Why wasn’t Kit coming to her aid?

She turned her back and replied without looking at him. ‘I have already told you I am not leaving. I will have nothing to do with you because I am staying in Virginia.’

His anger was palpable; she could feel the stiffening of his body as he pressed against her, along her thigh and lower back. He snapped his fingers and summoned the Quartermaster.

‘Get this woman aboard the
Lion
,’ he called out. ‘Bring rope and a gag and half a dozen men. She wishes to be treated like a
puta
in need of chastisement, so we shall oblige.’

While the Quartermaster bellowed orders she heard Ferdinando’s breathing and felt his mouth close to her ear.

‘It will amuse me to teach you some obedience once you are back aboard my ship. A maid should know her place.’

He took hold of her shoulder, pinning her down painfully. Even
if she had wanted to jump overboard, now she had no chance of doing so. He had her trapped.

‘And do not think you can complain to Raleigh on your return,’ he whispered. ‘By defying me you are also opposing him. Sir Walter expressly requested that I bring you back; I will do as he has asked.’

She writhed, but he kept hold of her and pulled out his kerchief, dangling it in front of her.

‘If you scream I will stop your mouth.’

She stilled and heard a succession of thuds. Then she looked forwards and saw the Quartermaster and his men jumping one by one onto the pinnace.

Stafford leant over and tapped Ferdinando on the arm; he looked appalled. ‘I am sure this is not necessary.’

‘Well, I am sure it is,’ Ferdinando snapped back, wrenching round Emme’s arms and crossing her wrists behind her back. She felt a rope passing over them, pulling tight and burning her skin.

‘Enough,’ Kit said softly.

Ferdinando froze.

She twisted round and saw that Kit was holding his pistol to Ferdinando’s neck, but so well concealed under his cuff and the collar of Ferdinando’s shirt that only those closest could have noticed it.

‘Manteo and Towaye are behind you,’ Kit murmured.

She turned a little more, glancing down towards the shiver of movement behind Ferdinando’s back, and glimpsed the Indians with their knives drawn, hilts angled upwards, blades nestling under Ferdinando’s doublet.

Stafford stood facing the Quartermaster with his back turned. If
he had seen anything of what Kit was doing, he was not going to interfere.

Kit spoke very softly.

‘Now let her go, Master Pilot.’

Slowly, Ferdinando released his hold on Emme; his eyes were no longer upon her, but on Kit, boring into him.

Kit glared back. ‘Tell your men to return to the
Lion
.’

Kit cocked his pistol. She heard the click.

Ferdinando flinched. ‘Back,’ he blurted out, waving away the Quartermaster and his crew. ‘Get back to the ship.’

Manteo gave a little jab and she saw Ferdinando arch his back. His eyes widened, though he kept them on Kit.

‘We have had a change of plan,’ he called out. ‘The lady will join us later.’

‘Stand,’ Kit ordered, barely above a whisper. ‘Go back to your ship and do not make me shoot you. Stafford will join you once he has spoken to White.’

Ferdinando rose with a face like thunder. Kit withdrew his pistol and folded his arms, but she knew that under his sleeve his pistol was still trained on the Pilot. Kit watched Ferdinando like a hawk as he clambered back to board the
Lion
.

‘Cast them off,’ Ferdinando barked, watching as the mooring ropes were untied and thrown over to the pinnace.

‘As you wish, Master Ferdinando,’ Stafford called up to him. ‘I will return with the Governor’s report.’

Stafford gave the order to make way, and Kit called for oars and the stroke. As he turned to face Emme and began to row, he looked at her with grim seriousness.

She beamed back at him. They would return together to Roanoke
and their journey would continue. Kit would come to be glad that she had not left him, only give her time to convince him. But his expression seeded a doubt, and the shame that never left her cast a shadow over her heart.

Would they be together for much longer?

‘… The Governor having long expected the coming of the weroances … seeing that the seven days were past within which they promised to come in, or to send their answers by the men of Croatoan, and no tidings of them heard, being certainly also informed by those men of Croatoan that the remnant of Wingina his men, which were left alive, who dwelt at Dasemonkepeuc, were they which had slain George Howe, and were also at the driving out of our … Englishmen from Roanoke, he thought to defer the revenging thereof no longer …’

—The entry for 8th August from John White’s Narrative of his 1587 Voyage to Virginia

‘We must attack. We have no choice. We’ve offered peace and it’s not been accepted.’

Ananias Dare thumped the trestle table as he made his points, setting it rocking on the dirt floor inside the Governor’s new strong-house. John White leant away, stiff backed and tight lipped, while
the other Assistants around the table all bent forwards, and everyone else looking on stood motionless, packed against the daub and timber walls. Emme peered over Manteo’s shoulder, determined not to miss a word, suppressing the urge to shout out that they did have a choice; no one was forcing an attack – let the colony not begin with warfare.

Dare banged the table again. In the candlelight his face looked like an angry demon’s, red and fiery with sickle shadows above his eyelids.

‘A full week has gone by and not one
weroance
has come or sent a message to us. If we do nothing the savages will believe we are powerless. They will think they can attack us with impunity. We cannot survive under constant threat of annihilation, unable to hunt or fish for fear that our men will be picked off one by one – unable even to grow crops for fear that there will be Indians lurking, waiting to pounce on our women and carry them away. Are we to go abed each night wondering whether our city will be torched while we sleep? To have any hope of continuance we must demonstrate our strength: show that we will not tolerate any interference; that we must be respected, and that crimes against us will be punished.’

‘Well said, Ananias,’ someone interjected amongst a general muttering and clapping in support.

‘I agree,’ Dyonis Harvie said, getting to his feet while Dare sat down. ‘I think we owe it to the memory of good George Howe to avenge his death and do what we can to bring his murderers to justice.’

Governor White raised his hand, though he remained on his stool at the head of the table.

‘No one can accuse us of not trying to live with the savages as friends. We have offered to forgive and they have turned their backs.’

He sounded weary, Emme thought; he seemed to reek disappointment. She saw dejection in the way he pulled down his hat and hunched his big shoulders. He must have hoped for a celebration of friendship with the Indians, not the hostility that Dare was espousing.

‘They despise us, that’s why.’ Dare waved his finger. ‘They think that we have neither the will nor the means to oppose them, and that they can do whatever they please: kill all of us or worse. Are we going to let them scalp every man, rape our women and make slaves of our children?’

A shiver of disgust ran through the assembly.

‘We cannot allow that,’ Harvie said amidst a chorus of ‘No’ and ‘Never’. He continued firmly. ‘To make the savages respect us we must avenge Howe’s murder and the driving away of Coffin and his men. We must strike back hard.’

He sat down. White pinched the bridge of his nose, shielding his eyes as he did, head bowed, appearing deep in thought; then he nodded as though he’d reached a conclusion.

‘I suppose a punitive strike may be in their interests as well as ours in the long run, if it leads to peace. But would it be possible to attack decisively so as to demonstrate our superiority once and for all? What do you say, Captain Stafford?’

White raised his shaggy brows towards Stafford with a look of abject appeal. The Captain stood near Kit and took a step forwards as the nearest Assistants turned to face him. He could move no further in the crush. Stafford gave his answer with the elegant assurance of a prowling cat.

‘We could launch a surprise assault on Dasemonkepeuc which appears to pose the greatest threat to us. The village is hardly more than three miles away. We could sail over in the pinnace under cover of darkness and ambush Wanchese’s warriors at dawn. We have enough calivermen to scare them witless with musket-fire.’

‘Crush them,’ Dare cried out. ‘It’s the only way. Sweep the village clean of them.’

Stafford hooked his thumbs in his belt, a confident stance that reflected his aura of dependability. Emme did not doubt that Stafford could do as he claimed; he was an experienced soldier and sea captain, whose service with Governor Lane meant that he knew what the colonists faced. But he would go back to England with Ferdinando; he would not stay with the Planters like Kit. If he took action against the Indians, he would not have to live with the consequences.

‘But are you sure that would be right?’ She spoke up without even meaning to, and then was acutely conscious of everyone looking at her, Kit included, who had barely exchanged a word with her since their return. He was plainly vexed that she had defied him in refusing to leave, but she felt sure that his annoyance would soon fade if she left him alone. Her interruption wouldn’t have helped. She turned in some embarrassment to Governor White.

‘May I speak?’

White inclined his head graciously, and gave her a concerned smile.

‘Every citizen may voice an opinion, man or woman, gentleman or maid. We will disregard no one. But I and the seven Assistants here will decide on the course to be taken. The government of this City of Raleigh rests upon my shoulders and theirs. We will not abrogate that responsibility.’

‘Thank you, Governor White.’ She turned to address everyone around the table and as many others as she could. ‘I ask you please to reflect upon the way our offer has been communicated. We have asked the Croatans to be our messengers. I do not suggest that they have not informed the
weroances
as they promised. But remember that the Croatans have openly stated that the Secotans are not their friends. Would the Secotans trust an offer delivered by their adversaries?’

‘Maybe not,’ Harvie answered. ‘But can we trust the Secotans?’

Dare waved his hand dismissively. ‘What would you suggest, Mistress Murimuth: that we send an emissary to treat with the Secotans face to face?’

Harvie nodded. ‘Do we assume that they will receive one of our own messengers with dignity when they murdered Master Howe without any provocation?’

‘The question is unhelpful,’ Dare said, and to Emme’s chagrin some of the other Assistants muttered in agreement. ‘Let’s move on.’

Kit alone sprang to her support. ‘It might be that a direct approach would be fruitful. I would be prepared to try and talk with the Secotans.’

‘You would talk with Wanchese?’ Harvie asked, raising his brows.

‘Yes.’

A ripple of astonishment passed through the crowd. Feet shuffled and people pressed forwards. Private debates began in low voices, behind hands and at the back of the crowd.

‘No, Kit,’ Emme interjected quietly. ‘I did not mean …’

Manteo cut across her, frowning and clearly discomfited. ‘You may trust my people. The message will have been delivered.’

She was mortified; she had never meant to upset Manteo, nor to suggest that Kit should take any more risk. She only meant to try
and avert conflict by suggesting a reasonable explanation for the silence of the Secotans, one that did not presuppose that they meant to kill every colonist.

Manteo thrust out his jaw defensively. ‘The
weroances
will have been asked to come.’

Dare rounded on him accusingly. ‘But even your mother is not here.’

‘She may have thought that coming here would serve no purpose if the Secotans refused to respond.’

Harvie turned and fixed Manteo with a pointed stare. ‘Which will have left the Secotans believing that they need not fear us because we have sued for peace and have been ignored.’

‘Good,’ Dare asserted. ‘We can catch them off guard and so terrify them that they never trouble us again.’

The general hubbub became louder.

White clasped his hands and frowned. ‘If the Secotans can indeed be frightened without too great a loss of life, then I suppose …’

‘We need to act quickly,’ Harvie said, ‘or the element of surprise will be lost.’

‘Strike now,’ agreed Dare. ‘Strike tonight.’

‘I am ready,’ another Assistant asserted.

‘But we should first properly consider the risk …’ White began.

Emme did not hear any more. Kit raised his hand as if about to speak, but, before he could say anything, Stafford had taken hold of his arm and ushered him outside. She followed them to the doorway, beyond which they stood facing the new triangular palisade and the gateway to the central clearing.

Stafford spoke to Kit in an undertone but she could still pick out the gist of what he was saying.

‘I think we should leave this to Governor White and the Assistants. They are the ones charged with the running of this colony.’

‘Yes,’ Kit answered, bending his head so that she saw his handsome face in profile, dark against the light of the fire, his chiselled lips closed as he mulled over what Stafford had said; then he spoke again.