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NOAH WOULD BE THERE! The words echoed in her mind as she tried to fall asleep that night. Suddenly she sat straight up in bed. Why would Noah be there? What did he have to say to anything?
The next morning, Catherine reined in her questions until everyone had eaten their morning meal and their individual tasks had been decided upon for the day. Since there was no real bed in the loft, Robert Morgan, who declared himself to be a carpenter, and his son Ethan decided to spend the day building themselves a pair of sturdy rope beds.
Over breakfast, Adam proposed that thereafter Robert and their boy accompany him to the plantation each day, as there was plenty of carpentry work to be done there. Margaret would assist Abigail with the household tasks.
When Adam donned his hat and headed toward the lean-to where his horse was stabled, Catherine followed close on his heels, determined to wrench answers from him before he disappeared for the day.
“Adam, I simply must know why Noah was chosen to escort me to the Indian chieftain’s village. And, why were he and his wife not present at Sabbath services yesterday? I also want to know what the trouble is between you two. Something has marred your friendship and I want to know what it is.”
“Whoa, there, sis.” Adam grinned as he tossed a blanket over the back of his horse, then reached to remove the bucket of oats the mare had been nibbling from. “Indeed, there is bad blood between Noah and me. I suppose it best I tell you since he will no doubt remark upon it when you see him. Your trek through the woods will take a lengthy spell and you’ll have plenty of time to talk.” He paused to draw breath. “When we first came to Jamestown, the three of us set about building this house, then we . . . at least Pa and I . . . commenced to work in the communal fields, uprooting trees, planting, harvesting, the like. No one owned any land then; we all worked together for the good of the colony.
“Later, the Virginia Company decided to grant tracts of land to those settlers who’d come here at their own expense, and since Father had paid the passage for the three of us, he was given three tracts. Noah balked, declaring he was entitled to one of those shares, but Father didn’t see it that way. I wasn’t given a separate share either. Then Noah became even more incensed when I later inherited all of Father’s shares. I’m sorry to tell you this, Cat, considering how you feel about him, but the truth is, Noah never did pull his own weight. He grew angry, moved out of the house, fell in with a group of freemen, some who worked, some who didn’t. Noah wasn’t the only shirker.
“Eventually, he took up with the traders, and, truth is, he’s become quite good at negotiating with the Indians. He has a . . . way with them. There were times when Noah was the only white man some of the werowances would deal with. Which is why he was chosen to accompany you to Powhatan’s village.”
“When did he marry?” she demanded, which had nothing to say to anything, but as long as Adam was speaking freely, she wanted to know.
“Autumn last. His success with the Indians came to the attention of the governor’s council, and he and Richard Benson, who’s treasurer of the council, became friends. Benson owns a good bit of land and is a wealthy planter. Noah married his only daughter, Charity. So, you might say, the girl came well-dowered.”
“Where do they live? I mean Noah and Charity. Do they live in town or on her father’s plantation?”
“In town, in the house the Bensons occupied before they removed to the country. Same as Abigail and I mean to do.”
“So, where was Noah yesterday? Why weren’t he and Charity at services?”
Adam huffed with exasperation. “You ask too many questions, Cat. I have no idea why Noah and his wife were not at services. Considering his wife’s condition, perhaps they elected to stay at home, or perhaps they are with Mrs. Benson on the plantation.”
“Was Mr. Benson one of the men you spoke with yesterday . . . I mean, about me?”
He nodded.
“Will he be along, or just Noah?”
“I doubt Benson has ever met an Indian face-to-face,” he said with derision. “He’s a fine gentleman. Not one to get his hands dirty. Forgive me for speakin’ plainly, but there it is.”
“Thank you for telling me the whole truth, Adam.”
He turned to bridle his horse, then vaulted himself onto its back, sans saddle. “I wish you Godspeed, Catherine. It may be today; it may be tomorrow. You’ll learn that Indian time is different from ours. They reckon by suns and moons and the length of a deer’s antlers. I rather expect the party to escort you will simply appear at the door, and ye’ll be whisked away with no warning. And, unfortunately . . . there’s no saying when ye’ll be back.”
The resignation that had settled on Catherine’s face turned to horror. “Adam!”
His heels had already spurred his horse into a gallop.
Her thoughts a tangle, Catherine trudged back to the house.
* * * *
TWO RAINY, SOGGY DAYS later, the knock came at the door. When Abigail flung it open, Noah Colton stepped inside.
“I’ve come for Catherine,” he said simply.
“I’ll get her. Cat,” she called. “They’ve come for ya’.”
Her heart thundering in her ears, Catherine entered the common room and stopped a few feet before reaching Noah, the man she’d loved as long as she could remember, the man she still loved. A smile trembled on her lips as their eyes met.
His were cold. “It’s time to go.”
His brusque manner caused her stomach to roil. But she said nothing, until she noted his unusual manner of dress. A shiny breastplate covered his broad chest. A short skirt of mail jingled over his gathered breeches. Tucked under one arm he carried a plumed helmet.
“Why are you dressed that way?” she demanded. “You look as if you’re going into battle!”
He turned around. “One never knows about the Indians. It’s always best to be prepared and . . . uh . . . protected.”
“What about me? I have no armor!”
“Powhatan will likely want to adopt you to replace his daughter. He won’t kill you.”
“How can you be certain of that?” She folded her arms across her chest and refused to budge an inch. “I won’t go.”
An amused grin softened his features. “Still as stubborn as when you were a girl.”
“Adam said the same thing,” she muttered.
“Come, Catherine.” His tone was indulgent. “We’ve a long walk through the woods before a dugout takes us to . . .”
She thrust her chin up. “I refuse to go unless you tell me what this is all about! I mean, I know why I’m being summoned, I-I just don’t know what is expected of me. I’m . . . afraid, Noah.”
His handsome face relaxed into a genuine smile, and, spotting the familiar twinkle of affection in his blue eyes, she yearned to fling herself into his arms. He was far taller and more muscular than when last she saw him. His curly blond hair nearly reached his shoulders. He had always been the most handsome boy she’d ever seen, but now, with his bronzed skin and rugged features, Noah, the man, was more appealing than ever.
He seemed to be studying her as well. “You look beautiful, Catherine. But I always did think ye were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Ye still are.”
She blinked back the sudden rush of moisture that sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Noah.”
A shuttered look replaced the warmth in his eyes, and his tone again grew firm. “We’ve no time for reminiscing, Cat. We have to go. Powhatan’s warriors are waiting for us on the shores of the Pamunkey. We’ve a long trek through the woods. We mustn’t risk angering the Indians.”
She took a tentative step forward.
“Ye’d best take a shawl. Evenings on the river are chilly. It may be late when we return.”
Catherine turned to find Nancy a few feet behind her, carrying her warm woolen shawl. Her gray eyes were fearful as she regarded Catherine. “I’ll wait up for ye.” She directed a narrow look at Noah. “Ye take good care of her now.”
He grinned. “She’ll be fine. Powhatan is just an old man missing his daughter. I expect Catherine will charm him.” His tone was tender as he spoke, his blue eyes fastened on Catherine. “As she does everyone.”
Her cheeks flushed, she draped the shawl over one arm and followed Noah into the sunshine. The rain had subsided, and it was fast becoming another steamy day in Tidewater Virginia.
Two other Englishmen whom Noah introduced as Lieutenant Sharpe and Richard Tidwell were also to make the journey. Both were dressed in protective armor, each carrying somewhat bulky-looking packages.
“Gifts for Powhatan,” Noah explained.
“Bribes, more like,” muttered Sharpe.
Tidwell laughed.
The men’s jibes irritated Catherine, but she held her tongue. Noah being there provided her with a modicum of relief.
The four set off on foot, picking their way along what had once been a well-worn path through the woods, now overgrown with new spring vegetation. They were headed in a northeasterly direction towards the shoreline of the Pamunkey River. Werowocomoco lay on the other side of the river, Noah said.
Today was the first time Catherine had ventured into the woods, but she was far too distracted now to take particular note of any of the plants on the forest floor, or the flowering vines that hugged the tall trees, all of which would have otherwise interested her deeply. She did notice the occasional splash of color provided by wildflowers and the feathery white dogwood now in full bloom.
The foursome walked in silence for a spell, the only sounds being their footfalls crunching the dry, brittle leaves not yet covered over with new growth. The sharp snap of a twig breaking or the shrill cry of a bird occasionally pierced the stillness, but otherwise the forest was ominously silent. As they moved deeper into the woods, Lieutenant Sharpe and Tidwell, tramping ahead of Noah and Catherine, took to hacking away at the tangled undergrowth with hatchets.
With each step she took, Catherine grew more apprehensive. Unconsciously she began to slow her pace. She became aware that Noah, too, had slowed up a bit. She wondered if he could sense her fear, or did he think she might be growing tired and require his assistance?
When Sharpe and Tidwell’s backs became mere shadows up ahead, Noah leaned closer to her. “Do ye think as children back home in England, we’d have thought that one day we’d be headed toward a face-off with a savage Indian chieftain in the New World?”
“I’d feel a good deal better about this if you’d refrain from referring to him as a ‘savage’!” she snapped.
Noah laughed, reaching to help her over a fallen log in their path.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “No, as children, our games ran toward more gentler topics, like love and marriage.” She threw a challenging look up at him and was dismayed when his shoulders merely rose and fell in a shrug.
“You didn’t wait for me; I didn’t wait for you.”
Thinking, or perhaps hoping, she’d detected a hint of dismay in his tone, she relished the prick of satisfaction she felt over inflicting on him a small measure of the pain she felt over his betrayal of her. She knew she’d feel sorry for the jab later, but for now, she clung to it.
“Who did you marry, Cat? Some fine Lon’non gen’leman?”
Her chin shot up. “Yes. Yes, he was quite fine. Very wealthy and very, very handsome.” That her falsehood was working to her advantage now rather pleased her. “Mr. Fielding was the handsomest man I have ever met.”
“Well, then what a shame he stuck his spoon in the wall and left you penniless.”
“Who says I am penniless?” Her auburn head jerked up again. But when she saw the familiar twinkle of merriment in his blue eyes, her stubborn features relaxed into a smile. “I am not penniless. For your information, I have purchased Adam’s house from him and I intend to start a school in Jamestown.”
“Then you’d best be certain to say the right thing to His Savage Highness, otherwise you won’t be coming back to Jamestown to teach anyone anything.”
“Noah, you are frightening me,” she fussed, then knew a stab of regret when she realized how quickly they’d fallen back into the easy camaraderie they’d shared as children. Except the warmth between them now meant nothing. She could never be wed to him, which meant all the trials she and Nancy had endured to reach the New World had been for naught.
His tone turned serious. “I’d best teach you a few things, Cat.” He dipped his head and spoke in a whisper. “About the Indians.”
“Why are you whispering?”
He took her arm and drew her closer to his side. “Because I expect we are being watched. Indians are everywhere. I’ve no doubt one or two of them are following alongside us now. They keep a sharp eye on the Tassentasses.”
“The what?”
“Englishmen. Tassentasse is the Indian word for Englishman.” He threw a cautious glance over one shoulder. “We can’t see them, but make no mistake, they see us, or smell us. Indians have a keen sense of smell and hearing. Where we might hear only a twig snap, or a bird chirp, it could be one Indian signaling to another. They put their ears to the ground and listen. They know the meaning of every sound in the forest. The naturals might seem like savages to us, simple and uneducated. But make no mistake; they are alert and cunning. They know far more about how to survive off this land than we do.”
The deeper they penetrated the cool, dank woods, the graver his warnings grew. “Because we don’t fully understand them, or they us, there are strict rules we must follow when we’re around them. Don’t speak until spoken to. Don’t move quickly, or reach for a weapon . . .”
“I don’t have a weapon!” she cried in an alarmed whisper. A quick glance at his side told her he had none either.
“We are on a peaceful mission.” He leaned into her ear. “I’m carrying a pistol and a knife, and so are Sharpe and Tidwell.”
“And I’m carrying nothing,” she pointed out in an angry whisper.
He ignored her. “When we arrive, just stay calm, look mournful and, above all, speak in a respectful tone. Powhatan is their king. Some Indians understand a good deal more English than they let on, so if you have a question, ask me quietly. None of your stout refusals or cries of alarm.”
“How did the Indians come to know so much of our language?”
He shrugged. “I expect your friend Pocahontas taught them. In the early days, she learned a good many words from Captain Smith.”
“Her English was quite good.”
“So, you did know her.”
“Of course I did.”
He switched topics. “I should also warn you that you will see a good many Indian braves rather . . . scantily clad, but, as a married woman, the sight of a man’s bare limbs or naked buttocks shouldn’t shock you.”
His plain talk made her uncomfortable since, truth was, she’d never seen a man unclothed in her life. But she wasn’t about to tell Noah that.
A bit further along, he asked, “So, you were well-acquainted with the Indian princess, eh? Probably met her at some fancy-dress ball or Lon’non dinner party.”
“Yes, I did,” she replied softly.
“Well, at least you’ve calmed down. One day ye’ll have to tell me about your fine London life. I wonder what your society friends would think if they could see you now? Didn’t that rich husband of yours have family who could take you in? One wonders why you chose to come here.”
She glared up at him, thinking the answer to that question should be obvious. Was she the only one who remembered that she and Noah Colton had been betrothed since childhood? Instead of answering his question, she replied, “I am far more concerned about getting safely back to Jamestown at the moment. Please tell me more about what to expect once we reach the Indian village.”
But there was no more time for talk. They soon stepped out of the shadowy forest and onto a sunny stretch of sand where Catherine’s eyes widened with fresh alarm at the sight that greeted them there.
Standing beside what looked to be a large tree trunk dragged up on shore were two tall, very-dark-skinned Indian braves wearing less clothing than Catherine had ever seen on a man. Their entire bodies, arms, legs and torso, were naked except for the scrap of leather covering their loins. Stripes of red and white paint decorated their muscular legs. Necklaces of colorful beads and bones hung down their hairless chests. Red and white paint streaked their foreheads and cheeks. Each brave carried a bow, and, peeking over their strong shoulders, Catherine spotted feathery tips of a dozen or more arrows.
The sight of their weapons caused her heart to hammer so loudly that if the natives’ hearing was as acute as Noah had said, they could surely hear it.
Noah took her arm and drew her forward. “We’re to go with the braves, now,” he said gently.
As they drew nearer the tree trunk, Catherine could see that it was, in fact, a boat. About twelve feet long, the guts of the tree trunk had been scooped out and the inside walls rubbed smooth. She wondered if the thing would float; but, of course, the Indians had come to this side of the river in it.
They all climbed inside the dugout and sat down, one Indian fore, one aft. Each picked up a flat wooden oar. Catherine spent the next quarter hour studying the Indian seated ahead of her. His quiver of arrows had dropped to his waist, leaving the strong expanse of his muscular back exposed to full view. She grew fascinated watching the ripple of his muscles as he rhythmically moved the oar to and fro in the water. A light breeze ruffled his shiny black hair, shaved close to his head on the right side, hanging long and loose on the left. White feathers tied into his hair fluttered lightly on the breeze. An odd movement close to his right ear caught her eye and she leaned forward to better see, then drew back in horror when she saw that the brave was wearing a live green snake as an earring!
Nothing Pocahontas had told Catherine about her people had prepared her for this. She was beginning to understand why Adam and other Englishmen referred to the naturals as savages.
Once the small party reached the opposite shore, the braves silently escorted their captives, which is how Catherine now thought of herself and the traders, through the palisaded walls of Werowocomoco. The walls surrounding the village were built of sturdy upright tree trunks tied together with braided hemp. Inside the walls, Catherine was taken aback by the orderliness she saw there.
The village was filled with odd-looking domed-shaped huts, their outsides covered with woven grass mats. Beside each hut was a neat garden much like those she’d seen in Jamestown. Indian women tended the gardens. Here and there, laughing children ran and played together. She couldn’t help noticing that the smallest children, girls and boys alike, wore nothing at all. The women’s bodies were covered to the knees with smooth doeskin dresses, much like the one Pocahontas wore, though with far less ornamentation. Their long black hair hung loose or plaited in a braid down their backs. They seemed happy and content as they silently went about their work.
Work that surprised Catherine. It was women, not men, she saw industriously building a new dome-shaped house, working in teams of two or three to bend the long poles of green wood that would form the arched frame. Others wove mats that would cover the walls.
Catherine was so caught up studying the Indians she was startled when suddenly, their guides whirled around and one cried, “Sacani!”
In plain English, the other said, “Wait here.”
They stood in the hot sun for what seemed like an eternity. It was already past noon and Catherine was both hungry and thirsty. From somewhere, the delicious smell of roasting meat drifted toward them on the light breeze. Hearing her own stomach growl, she glanced at Noah. His face was calm and impassive. No one talked.
Finally, some sort of signal must have alerted the Indians because the one who spoke English said, “Inside now.”
Reaching the longest of the domed houses at the far end of the clearing, one brave pulled aside the mat covering the entrance and they all filed in. Catherine blinked to accustom her eyes to the dim light.
They sat down on the ground, the men cross-legged, Catherine’s long blue skirt covering her legs.
When she looked up, the great chieftain Powhatan had silently entered the structure, and was settling himself on a raised platform draped with skins and plush animal furs in the middle of the room. More fully clothed than his braves, a band of white feathers held his long gray hair back from his face. Many necklaces of shiny copper and brightly colored beads lay around his neck. That no war paint was smeared anywhere on his body gave Catherine some measure of relief.
However, her relief vanished when she caught sight of the two Indian braves standing on either side of him, especially the tallest, ugliest one, the one casting scowls of hatred at her. Their bodies were painted black as pitch, with stripes of red, white, and green paint on their legs, arms, and faces. Wads of black-tipped feathers attached to the tops of their heads made them seem even taller. One carried a spear, the other stood with his arms folded across his chest, assessing her and the other Tassentasses from the narrowed slits of his eyes.
Catherine’s breath again grew short. On either side of the long domed structure, she spotted other groups of male Indians seated on the floor, but as they caused no distraction, she did no more than glance their direction.
Before the audience officially began, Lieutenant Sharpe was granted permission to approach Powhatan with his bag of “bribes” as Tidwell called them. Catherine watched with growing alarm as he withdrew hatchets, hammers, tomahawks, and steel-bladed knives from the bundles and spread them at the emperor’s feet. To bring the Indians more weapons hardly seemed a wise course to her! However, nothing seemed to interest the chieftain until Sharpe drew forth a pouch of shiny copper pieces that could be cut into any shape Powhatan desired. For this gift, the lieutenant was rewarded with a nod of approval.
After the men had gestured and talked back and forth a bit, the tall, ugly Indian seemed to grow agitated.
“Talk stop! Bring crenepo!”
The two warriors who’d escorted them into the village approached Catherine. Each took one of her arms and fairly lifted her off the ground. Noah also rose to his feet and followed them to the chieftain’s platform.
Catherine willed her pounding heart to remain calm as she faced the fearsome warriors and the mighty emperor. However, standing closer to Powhatan she saw no anger or malice in his faded watery eyes. She saw only sadness.
He too gazed intently at her. In a low mournful voice, he finally said, “Matoaka gone.”
Beside her, Noah translated softly. “Matoaka was Pocahontas’s given name. It means Little Snow Feather.”
Catherine’s chin trembled as tears of sadness filled her eyes. She lowered her head, but was unable to hold back a sob. Thoughts of the father she’d so recently lost filled her mind. At times, the losses she’d suffered since coming to the New World still seemed too much to bear. But she had no choice. Pushing through her tears, she tried to return her thoughts to her surroundings. She and the powerful Indian chieftain had much in common, both were grieving, she for her father, he over the loss of his beloved daughter. “Yes,” she said. “Matoaka gone.”
She watched a droplet of moisture spill from the old chieftain’s eye and melt into the deep wrinkles of his leathery cheek. The two of them looked full at one another for a long moment.
“Crenepo love my daughter.”
Catherine nodded solemnly. “I loved her very much.”
The old chieftain’s knowledge of English now apparently exhausted, he turned to address the angriest brave in his own tongue. The brave spoke to the three Tassentasses in broken English mixed with Indian gibberish. Between them, they managed to translate the chieftain’s questions to Catherine and relay her answers back to him.
Powhatan wanted to know many things about his beloved Pocahontas: was she happy, had she enjoyed her visit to the faraway land, had she had many adventures, how did her child fare, was the boy well and happy, and did John Rolfe treat her kindly?
Through his interpreters, the chieftain said he knew Catherine had been with his daughter the night she died. When she nodded, he wanted to know if his daughter had been very ill then. Catherine told him the princess was feverish, that she’d been wrapped in a blanket before a warm fire, and that before Catherine left them, Mr. Rolfe had had his wife’s women put her to bed. Her husband knew she did not feel well and feared for her health.
She told the chieftain they had talked of the forest Pocahontas so dearly loved, about healing plants and herbs, and that she was to teach their boy once they arrived here. Catherine said she believed Mr. Rolfe had not returned to the New World following his wife’s sudden death because he was grief-stricken and could not bear to leave her alone in a strange land. She said she did not know when, or if, he would ever return.
When the audience drew to a close, the old chieftain rose to his feet and with slow deliberation drew an arrow from the quiver of the angry warrior, who Catherine later learned was Powhatan’s brother Opechancanough. After speaking a few words, Powhatan snapped the arrow in two and cast the pieces on the ground. Noah whispered to her that for the Indians, a broken arrow signified peace.
* * * *
“AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” demanded Margaret Morgan.
Catherine and her escorts had returned to Jamestown just after dusk, and she, her family, and the Morgans were all seated around the board table in the common room of the Parke cabin as Catherine hungrily ate from a trencher filled with thick vegetable stew.
“Powhatan bade us leave. I don’t believe his brother, the tall angry Indian standing next to him, wanted us to go, but Powhatan waved him to silence every time he tried to speak. Powhatan wished us a safe journey, then . . . we left.”
“Did you eat all kinds of strange things?” asked Ethan Morgan, his eyes round.
“No.” Catherine shook her head. “It was not a time for feasting. It was a time for mourning. Two Indian women bade us sit on a grass mat beneath an oak tree. They brought us fruit and bread and something tart to drink.” Catherine scooped up another bite of stew. “I admit I was frightfully hungry by then, as I am now,” she added with a laugh. “On the way back, we munched on wild berries and drank sweet water from a pretty spring.”
“Well.” Adam pushed up from the table. “It sounds as if you handled yourself very well, sis. I’m proud of you.”
“Your first visit to a real Indian village,” Nancy said with awe.
“It’s time we all got to bed,” Margaret declared. “Come along, Ethan, you’ve heard enough Indian tales for one night.”
“I hope I see some real Indians soon!”
“I see them all the time,” Lad boasted.
Catherine grinned at the boys. She was vastly relieved the dreaded ordeal was over and was now looking forward to a long night of rest. Tomorrow she was to meet with the deputy-governor and his councilmen to report on her visit with Powhatan. More importantly, she intended to bring up the matter of her new school.