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SEPTEMBER 1618
She also could not decide whether or not to tell Noah she was pregnant. Since she never knew when he might be away from Jamestown, or for how long he’d be gone, if she waited until later to tell him and he hadn’t been home for several weeks, he would very likely accuse her of infidelity. On the other hand, were she to tell him now and the child was Phyrahawque’s, she would die if Noah became angry over some trifling matter and harmed this baby.
Still, since Noah had so recently been at her, recent enough that he could easily recall the encounter, it was likely he would accept the child as his. At least until the baby was born. In her heart Catherine knew the child was Phyrahawque’s, conceived out of the deep love she and the Indian warrior felt for one another. With all her heart, she wanted this baby even more than the last one because it was Phyrahawque’s, and she knew it would be beautiful and much loved by both herself and its father. Nightly she prayed that God would help her get through the next seven months and bring this child into the world alive and healthy.
In the end, she decided it was safer to tell Noah now, though she was not prepared for the scowl of anger he turned on her.
“I’ve hardly touched you!”
“Well, apparently you’ve touched me enough. Besides,” she fabricated, “they say that abstinence makes a woman more fertile, so I expect the weeks I was . . . ill, and you were away rendered my body more receptive. In any case, by my reckoning, the babe will be born sometime in the early spring.”
Later that night as they lay in bed, he again brought up the matter of her pregnancy. “I have decided the fact that you are to have a child will bode well for me. A babe will increase my consequence as a family man.”
“I don’t understand,” Catherine murmured sleepily.
“My bid for the governorship.” He sounded irritable that she hadn’t followed his reasoning.
Though the room was pitch black, Catherine did not need light to detect the familiar twitch of annoyance at his mouth.
“For the selfsame reason, I’ve also decided you should start up your school again. The Virginia Company investors will look favorably on a family man whose wife is the only teacher in the colony. I expect Argall to be removed from office soon. Rumblings against him are increasing daily, especially since the uprising in Henricus.”
“But that was your fault,” she pointed out.
He sprang up in bed, his body twisting toward her in the darkness. “A vile accusation from my own wife! Don’t ever say such a thing again!”
She quickly remembered her vow not to overset him. “I’m sorry, Noah. Clearly, I am wrong. You are far and away the most qualified man in Virginia to be named governor.”
“Well . . .” He appeared mollified. “I daresay your judgment is improving. Pray, let it continue. Now, I expect to see children seated at the board tables in the common room at once. I plan to have my list of grievances against Argall ready to hand to Lord De La Warr when he arrives.”
Catherine had some difficulty convincing Noah that since everyone in the tidewater area, except himself and the other two traders, were at this time of year busy harvesting their tobacco crop in readiness to ship the leaves back to England, now was not a good time to start up her school.
“Even in the beginning, I let it be known there would be no classes during harvest. Perhaps I could hold a short winter session, although, if you recall, I dispensed with that last year due to harsh weather.”
At his growl of disapproval, she added, “Very well, I shall post a notice on the meetinghouse door just as soon as harvest is over and leaf-fall upon us. The children can come for a month or two before and after Christmastide . . . at least until the snows become too heavy for them to get here.”
Once again, Noah appeared mollified.
Because Jamestown’s new freshwater well had now been dug, and every new settler now enjoyed a semblance of shelter in his own bark hut, Noah had the leisure to spend a good part of each day making secret treks into the woods with items he absconded from the crates in the shed. Catherine noted with chagrin that the pile of pelts in the loft teetered higher and higher. She, on the other hand, was forced to stay close to the house. Though she longed with all her heart to see Phyrahawque, she feared he might not now find her body as beautiful as he once had.
In late September, Nancy gave birth to twin girls she named Jean and Jane. Catherine gave out the news she was again with child.
“I am so happy for you,” Abigail gushed. “I told Adam the day you visited with us that I believed you were with child. You looked positively radiant that day, as you do now!”
* * * *
ON ONE ESPECIALLY WARM November day, Catherine looked up from her work and noted that the leaves on the trees were ablaze with color, fiery scarlet, brilliant orange and glittering gold. Not a cloud in the sky marred the expanse of azure blue overhead. The day was so glorious it took her breath away. Tears of sadness gathered in her eyes as her heart ached to share the beautiful day with Phyrahawque. They would lie on their backs on the ground, his silky black hair interlaced with hers as they stared up at the sky, their hearts bursting with love for the peaceful world around them . . . and for one another. She nearly choked with longing as she realized she’d lost count of the days and weeks since she’d last seen her beloved Indian warrior. He did not even know she was carrying his child.
One day when Noah left the house early, she could resist the pull of the forest no longer, and soon after the midday meal, she set out for the woods. But instead of finding Phyrahawque in her Secret Place, she again came upon Lanneika, who in grave tones told her that Phyrahawque had been forced to gather an army of warriors and travel to the place where the tribe usually lived during the sleeping time, when the snow fell.
“Warring tribe strike. Phyrahawque fight to protect.”
Her heart thudding with fear, Catherine listened with horror to Lanneika’s tale. She could not bear the thought of something dreadful happening to Phyrahawque.
Lanneika tried to comfort her friend. “Phyrahawque strong. He be safe.”
Lanneika said that Phyrahawque had decided the tribe would not move north this year, as was their usual custom. “He want to be near you,” she added softly.
Catherine smiled sadly. Did she dare tell Lanneika she was certain she was carrying her brother’s child? Perhaps the Indian girl already knew. She said nothing, but before leaving she made Lanneika promise to get word to her the minute her brother returned. “I will pray for him every day,” she added.
That night over supper, even Noah had heard about the warring Indian tribes.
“It’s said an entire village was wiped out, houses burned and everyone dead, including women and children.”
Catherine gasped. “I pray that to be an exaggerated account.”
“What do you care?” he scoffed.
“The Indians are human beings, God’s children, the same as you and I are.”
“Well, the news pleased Argall. Said if the Indians killed each other off, it’d make our lives that much easier.”
Catherine cringed. She hardly dared think that Phyrahawque could have been involved in such a massacre. Or worse still, that it was his village that was decimated. She worked to suppress her horror. “Well, we have plenty to keep ourselves occupied here. With winter close on, we shall be needing more firewood, and a mud bank needs to be built up along the outside walls of the house.”
“A mud bank? Whatever for?” Noah pulled a face.
“It helps ward off the chill. The chinks in the walls must also be filled. You’ve plenty of time now to take care of things, Noah. We also need a good deal more food to set aside for the winter months. The woods are full of wild turkey and other game, rabbits and deer. I understand it’s easy enough to take fish from the river. We desperately need food, Noah,” she said again.
“When I am appointed governor,” he replied, his cocksure tone telling her he had no intention of soiling his hands hunting or fishing, “all our needs will be amply provided for.”
“But we cannot be certain you shall be appointed governor. We really must see to our own needs.”
As the days passed and Noah didn’t lift a finger to take care of anything, Catherine felt she had no choice but to approach Adam regarding the bargain they’d struck when she bought the house from him.
On the following Sabbath, Noah, wearing his finest scarlet satin doublet with shiny brass buttons and froths of lace at the cuffs, sauntered amongst the colonists, shaking hands with the men and doing the pretty for the women. Catherine quietly moved to stand by her brother.
“Noah appears in fine fettle today,” Adam observed.
“Yes, he can be quite charming when he wants to be.” Catherine cast a chagrined look at her finely turned out husband, now laughing with several men and a comely woman. She recalled the day, not too long past, when she, too, had been taken in by his easy charm and lighthearted banter. He was without question a fine-looking man, but knowing his true personality as she did now turned all his fineness to dust.
“There are many who say he’ll be our next governor,” Adam mused.
Catherine nodded.
“You do not seem particularly pleased. The appointment should make your life a good deal easier.”
“I don’t believe anything would make my life with Noah . . . easier.”
Adam looked concerned. “Something’s troubling you, Cat. What is it?”
She inhaled a long breath. “I am sorry to have to make such a request of you, Adam, but the truth is, Noah is so confident he will be appointed governor that he is doing nothing now to provide for our needs. Over the summer, I managed to grow a bit of corn in the field that Jack and Victor cleared, but we’ve eaten it, and now there is none left to grind or save. I fear our circumstances are fast becoming dire.”
Adam turned an indulgent smile on his beautiful sister. “If you are wondering if I mean to make good on my promise to provide provisions for you this coming winter, I’ve just been waiting for you to ask. I wasn’t certain Noah would allow it, if you must know.”
“Well, I have every intention of allowing it!” With a sigh of relief, Catherine thanked her brother profusely.
The day Adam and Jack and a couple more men from Harvest Hill appeared at their door saying they’d rowed two flatbed rafts downriver loaded with a dozen barrels of dried pork, venison, and vegetables, Catherine did not bother to consult her husband. She knew the task of replacing the empty barrels in the loft would take nearly the whole of the afternoon. Furthermore, she did not expect Noah to offer to help.
Adam left two of his men behind to begin hauling the empty barrels to the ground whilst he and the others returned to the river for full ones.
Eventually Noah came into the house and, catching sight of the men in the loft and the ropes dangling from the rafters, demanded, “What the hell is going on here?”
“Come into the bedchamber, Noah, and I shall explain.” Catherine hurriedly told him about the bargain she’d struck with Adam when she bought the house. “As you know, my brother is a man of his word.”
“And I am not?”
“I did not say that.”
“Well, you sure as hell implied it!”
“I implied nothing of the sort. I am merely trying to see to our needs for the upcoming winter. We must eat something until you are appointed governor . . . and all our needs are amply provided for,” she added, unable to disguise the sarcasm in her tone.
His face contorted angrily. “What do you want from me, Catherine?”
“A peaceful life, a family with children, and a husband who is happy to do what is necessary to provide for us.”
“You have that!”
“No, I do not have that.”
“Well, I want a wife who appreciates me, and I certainly do not have that!”
Catherine wrung her hands. The last thing she wanted was to quarrel with him. Drawing an uneven breath, she admitted, “I-I am . . . not happy, Noah.”
“You have nothing to be unhappy about,” he argued.
She said nothing.
He persisted. “You could be happy if you’d accept that I know what is best for us and that I am doing what it takes to provide for our future.”
Despite her resolve to remain calm, his words irked her. “I could be happy only if I’d never come to know you as you truly are!”
“And what does that mean?” he demanded.
“You are not the man I thought you were, Noah. You lie, and cheat, and steal from anyone you can!”
“You are a dreamer, Catherine. This is a new world, and the old rules do not apply. A man does what he must in order to survive.”
She worked to calm herself. “I fear you will one day take something from someone who will fight back.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Of course not. I am a woman. Who would listen to me?”
He smirked. “That, my dear wife, is precisely what I am counting upon.”
With that, he brushed past her and the men working in the common room, and exited the house.
* * * *
NOVEMBER TURNED TO December, and though her heart wasn’t in it, Catherine made good on her word to start up her school again. The notice she posted on the meetinghouse door emphasized the fact that all children, English and Indian alike, were welcome. A part of her hoped that if a few Indian children came to the house each day, she might learn what was truly going on with the warring Indian tribes. It had been weeks since she’d last seen Lanneika, and she was now beside herself with worry over Phyrahawque. Many were the long endless nights she lay awake, unable to sleep for worry about him and his people.
It didn’t help when Noah brought home fresh rumors about the warring Indian tribes, rumors that sent icy fingers of fear down Catherine’s spine.
Noah was now spending several hours each evening going door to door, visiting with the settlers and collecting support from those who agreed that he should, indeed, be named the next governor of Virginia. Although the colonists’ opinions would carry little to no weight, Noah hoped if a town meeting were called when Lord De La Warr arrived, the colonists would be angry enough with Argall to voice their opinions and freely speak out in favor of him. He’d had Catherine write a letter outlining all his qualifications and kept one copy with him in readiness to present to the Virginia Company representative as soon as the emissary arrived from London. The other copy he’d sent back on a ship carrying tobacco leaves to England. Even when word eventually reached the colonists of the death of Lord De La Warr, who had been en route to Jamestown to investigate the allegations against Deputy-Governor Argall, Noah’s hopes remained undimmed.
“Argall is as good as gone,” he told Catherine one evening as they sat before the fire, Catherine mending one of his shirts, he doing nothing, Lydia alone in her room.
“Why do you say that?” Catherine didn’t look up.
“Amongst De La Warr’s private papers was a warrant for Argall’s arrest. I am most certain to be named Virginia’s next governor,” he gloated. “The colonists all agree that the bulk of Argall’s mandates were calculated to increase his own wealth with little or nothing left to benefit the colony.”
Not unlike you, Catherine thought to herself but did not voice aloud. She had no confidence whatever in Noah’s bid for the governorship, despite his staunch belief to the contrary. Her thoughts and worries these days centered solely on the wellbeing of Phyrahawque and the people of his tribe. As yet, she still knew nothing concrete, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to get through yet another long day with no word regarding her beloved.
“I am also talking up your school amongst the settlers,” Noah said. “You may have quite a few new pupils this term.”
“Hmmm.”
“It is time you raised your fee.”
“I have no set fee. I merely accept whatever a child’s parents feel they can spare from their own store of supplies.”
“Well, I intend to keep a reckoning of everything they bring, in order to be certain no one cheats us.”
How very like him, Catherine thought, to want to be certain no one cheats him, when from them, with a clear conscience, he would readily steal anything that was not nailed down.
On the day designated for classes to begin, five students showed up. A few days later, two more came. Catherine found that, despite the uneasy state of her mind, she once again enjoyed the diversion. Laughing with the children and listening to their chatter and constant questions kept her from endlessly worrying about Phyrahawque.
One bleak rainy morning in late December, when five of Catherine’s seven pupils were already seated around the board tables, their hands folded primly before them, their expressions expectant as they gazed up at her, another rap sounded at the door.
Opening it only a crack lest a gust of icy air chill the entire house, an audible gasp escaped Catherine when she came face-to-face with the imposing figure of Phyrahawque. She was so shocked, she had to cling to the doorjamb to keep from fainting dead away.
“Phyrahawque,” she mouthed, staring up at him. She was so thrilled to see him she very nearly threw herself into his arms. Blinking back the tears of joy that welled in her eyes, it took all the restraint she could muster not to. Opening the door wide enough to admit him, she noted he was not dressed in his usual manner. The days being exceptionally cold, his entire body was covered in warm doeskin. His black hair hung long and loose; draped over his shoulders was a plush white bearskin. An Indian youth of about nine or ten stood beside him.
“Bring boy to learn.” Phyrahawque maintained a steady composure, though his piercing black eyes probed Catherine’s for answers to questions he did not ask.
She saw his gaze drop to her middle. From the furrow of concern that flitted across his brow, she knew he longed to ask how she fared.
“W-what do you call the boy?” she managed, her eyes filled with longing as she gazed up at him, nearly overwhelmed by the ache in her heart to know everything that had happened since she last saw him.
“Taquitock.”
Phyrahawque all but pushed the reluctant youth forward and, in his own language, told the boy he would return to collect him in a few hours. Catherine knew exactly what he’d said, and it was she who nodded up at Phyrahawque.
Though she spent the morning listening to the children recite their lessons, her mind whirled with ideas about how she might manage a few stolen moments with Phyrahawque when he returned for Taquitock.
It was several days before an opportunity presented itself. Once again the fire in the hearth had nearly gone out overnight, and when Taquitock and Phyrahawque appeared on the doorstep that icy cold morning, Catherine seized the moment to ask the boy if he’d accompany her to the woodpile. Grabbing her shawl, she wrapped it tightly about her shoulders before she hurried from the house, Phyrahawque a few paces behind her.
Once beyond the shed, while Taquitock bent to scoop up several logs, Catherine turned a wide-eyed gaze on the tall Indian warrior.
“I’ve missed you terribly,” she whispered. “Lanneika told me months ago you were fighting. I’ve worried myself sick about you!”
Phyrahawque smiled into her upturned face. “You beautiful.” One brown hand reached to lightly caress her swollen belly. “Mine.”
She nodded, the love in her heart causing tears of joy to spring to her eyes. “I wasn’t certain you knew.”
“Lanneika tell me many moons ago.”
Catherine blinked back her tears. “What am I to do, Phyrahawque? What am I to do once our child is born?”
“I tell Taquitock no speak; listen to trader-man’s words. Come for me if trouble.”
Catherine dared not stay too long away from the house. Noah was indoors, still snug in his bed.
“Perhaps Taquitock could stay a bit longer each day. I desperately need help. Noah helps me with nothing, and Lydia is . . . not strong.” She cast a glance down at the few remaining sticks of firewood scattered about. “I desperately need firewood and always water from the well.”
Phyrahawque nodded. He motioned for Taquitock and in plain English told him to do as the teacher-lady said.
Catherine grinned. “So the boy does know words.”
“He know many words. Lanneika teach.” When Taquitock was out of sight, Phyrahawque leaned down to brush his cool lips against Catherine’s. “I bring wood for fire.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled a breath of relief, more for knowing that he was alive and safe than for the firewood he promised to bring. “I am so happy to see you.” Though she did not yet know the outcome of the Indian wars, Phyrahawque was alive and safe and that was all that mattered.
He drew her into a quick embrace and in a husky voice said, “Phyrahawque love you . . . and babe.”
His sweet words warming her, Catherine hurried back into the house, where the Indian boy was carefully sliding his few spindly logs into the fire. In moments, Noah appeared and scowled when he saw the Indian youth.
“What’s he doing here?”
“He’s the new student I was telling you about. I told his father just now he must pay something for Taquitock’s lessons. He said he’d bring firewood tomorrow.”
“The father understands English?” Noah’s brows drew together suspiciously.
“I cannot say for certain,” Catherine hedged. “I did a good bit of pointing and gesturing. I hope he understood me.” She smiled. “I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”
The next morning, a commotion in the yard drew both Catherine and Noah outdoors where they saw two strong Indian braves nearly finished unloading and neatly stacking pieces of wood from the pair of sturdy travoises behind their horses. That Noah had accompanied her to the shed caused Catherine’s breath to catch in her throat until she saw that neither of the naturals was Phyrahawque. She thanked the men when they finished their work, and without incident both she and Noah returned to the house.
“I didn’t recognize either of those savages,” Noah said. “Has your new student indicated what tribe he’s from?”
Catherine shook her head. “Actually he hasn’t said a word since he came. I have a feeling he may be mute.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because he hasn’t said anything. The day his father brought him, he pointed to the boy’s ear and nodded, as if to say the boy could hear, then pointed to his mouth and shook his head, as if to say he couldn’t speak.”
“Hmmm.”
Catherine was relieved when Noah didn’t pursue the subject. She was also greatly relieved to have a fresh supply of firewood for the winter months and also that Taquitock lingered each day to bring fresh logs into the house and to fetch water from the new well, located a good distance away from the house.
She kept a sharp eye on the boy and couldn’t help noticing that his alert black eyes were often fixed on Noah, though not in an overt manner. Still, it never escaped Taquitock’s notice when Noah came in from one of his excursions with an armload of pelts, which he secreted in the loft.
Catherine asked her husband one evening when he planned to sell the skins.
“As soon as the next ship arrives. The one carrying orders for Argall’s dismissal,” he added with a sly grin. “I expect we shall be removing to the governor’s house before too very long. Those pelts will purchase a good many luxuries.”
Catherine thought it odd that none of the colonists questioned Noah’s new occupation as a fur trapper. After all, he was never seen hauling into town any of the animals he professed to have trapped, and he certainly spent no time curing skins, which so far as she knew was a lengthy and complicated process. It occurred to her that perhaps Deputy-Governor Argall knew of the perfidy and perhaps, for a share of the profits, was turning a blind eye.
She also wondered how Noah was managing to keep his own accusations against the deputy-governor from reaching Argall’s ears. She shuddered to think what would happen when Noah’s thievery and deception came to light. Would he be tried and sentenced to hang? What would be her fate if her husband was killed for stealing from the colony, and she was left alone to raise an infant? Especially if her infant was . . . not white. Always, her worries made her sick to her stomach.
With a sigh of regret, she thought back over the nearly two years she’d been in Jamestown, and realized that since she’d been here, she’d been embroiled in one deception after another, beginning with her own unintentional one when she boarded the ship in England and told the captain her surname was Fielding. Since her marriage to Noah, the deceptions had piled one on top of another. And now with the babe in her belly, she was forwarding yet another. Would the lies and falsehoods never end?
By far the most worrisome thing on her mind these cold winter days was what Noah would say and do once she’d given birth, and it was plainly evident her babe was Indian. If it had skin darker than her own, or straight black hair instead of soft golden down, or even the russet color of her hair, then what? Noah’s rage knew no bounds. Certainly he would threaten to kill Phyrahawque. But would he? Could he? Would he threaten to kill her? Would he kill the baby?
Always the questions in her mind traveled in circles with no answers in sight. Should she throw herself on her brother’s mercy? Would he take her in once he knew she’d committed adultery, with an Indian no less, and that since then, she’d been lying to everyone? She loathed deception, but for now it seemed she had no choice but to continue the one she was forwarding, that Noah had fathered the babe in her belly.
Many evenings as Catherine sat before the fire pretending to listen to him brag about his qualifications to be named governor, Catherine’s thoughts were centered on all the things she and Phyrahawque had spoken of those many long months ago. He knew she was unhappy in her marriage. Once he had wisely said that if she wished to feel the sunshine, why did she continue to sit beneath a shade tree? Phyrahawque’s wise counsel came again and again to her mind.
She tried to imagine what her life would have been like if she had not married Noah. She had met both Lanneika and Phyrahawque before she walked down the aisle with Noah. If only she had opened her eyes to the truth about him earlier. If she had known that he was no longer the lighthearted, easy-going boy she’d known in England but was instead an angry, heartless man, she would never have married him. It broke her heart now to realize that her refusal to listen to Adam’s warnings about Noah may have led to Victor’s death. She had no way of knowing the truth of what happened that day in the woods, but knowing Noah as she did now, it was not a stretch to believe that it was he who let fly the arrows that eventually took Victor’s life.
Was it jealousy that drove him? Envy? Hatred? Or, was it because Noah simply wanted to possess her, to, as he’d once said, have something other men wanted. Whatever his reasoning, it baffled her. Also sad was the fact that there were people who truly loved Noah. She had loved him once, and she assumed Charity had. And he had a little daughter who would grow to love him, if given the chance. So far as Catherine knew, since Noah had left the Benson plantation and moved into Jamestown to wed her, he hadn’t so much as seen his baby daughter.
She realized that, of the many deceptions she’d been embroiled in, the worst one was that of self-deception. All along, where Noah was concerned, she’d been deceiving herself. Her refusal to see the truth had had the effect of keeping her own happiness at bay. She had no idea now how things would turn out; all she knew for certain was that as each day passed, she longed all the more for the safe, secure haven of Phyrahawque’s arms.
The question was . . . did she truly have the courage to leave her own people and live amongst the Indians in order to be with him?