Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (30 page)

All four regretted leaving the refreshing coolness of the mountains for the hot, heavy-water air of the lowlands, but their vigilance for enemies was such that their minds had scant time to dwell on the weather or the punishing task of dragging their heavy travois. As they scanned their surroundings for signs of danger, the leader recalled their encounter with the Powhatans on their last visit to the area at a place not far from where they now walked. He remembered putting an arrow into one of them as he charged with a stone hatchet—a gutshot that probably killed the man in time. He’d gone down immediately, and his tribesmen had stopped, thought better of their attack, and retreated with their fallen comrade in hand. The north men had raised their weapons in the air, taunted the Powhatans as cowards and women for backing off. But the leader knew they’d been lucky that day, and though always ready for a fight, he was,
this
day, more interested in reaping the rewards of their long journey, which he couldn’t do if he were dead. So he’d quietly reminded the others of last year’s encounter and cautioned them to be vigilant. The days of constant alertness for battle had taken a toll on the men, left them with a mental tiredness that, together with their physical exhaustion, had created an eager longing for their journey’s end. Now as they crossed a small river that flowed north into the large river, the leader knew they were in Chesapeake territory, signaled the others. He knew they could gradually relax their vigilance over the day and a half it would take them to reach the Chesapeake village; and his companions’ more frequent smiles signaled their excited anticipation of an overdue rest, good food, and perhaps a pleasant evening with a beautiful young Chesapeake girl.

Shortly after sunrise the morning of White’s departure for England, Emily lay in bed and imagined herself standing on the outer banks watching the two ships sail east toward the rising sun, held her breath as their sails grew ever smaller before melding into the horizon. She felt a lump in her heart, a vast, lonely, penetrating emptiness in her stomach. Then later, going about her chores in the village, she sensed an infectious pall hanging over the entire colony, a pall that could only have come from visions and feelings like her own. And after half a day of witnessing despair on every face, a skittish glaze in every pair of eyes, chores performed with apathy, she realized they all suffered the same two painful afflictions: the belated acknowledgement that since their arrival, the ships at anchor a short distance beyond the outer banks had been a reassuring comfort to them, a lifeline for escape if the worst occurred; and second, the soulful realization that they were now completely isolated from England, totally alone, with no help, no connection to home. So with no escape and no refuge, all that remained was an empty, lonely sense of abandonment aggravated by the stark comprehension of the awful peril that surrounded them. It had all drilled its way into their minds and souls and now sat like a cannon ball in the pit of every stomach until finally, just before noon, their sensibilities and the gravity of their plight were poignantly validated by the slaughter of their first pig and goat—a major, premature milestone in their consumption of the supplies they had brought from England, the supplies they had expected to see them through the winter.

After a noon meal with her father, Emily sat alone in the cottage for ten minutes, held her locket, reread her mother’s letter, told her about John White leaving, the letters he carried from her and her father. She shed her usual tears of longing then told her mother of the debilitating feelings of aloneness and abandonment that had overcome the colony that morning, how she’d felt it, as well, but had now pushed it away. Finally, after putting her mother’s letter under her pillow, she kissed her locket, placed it in her apron pocket. She gathered up the dirty laundry, stuffed it into a canvas bag along with some soapwort and a washing bat, then checked that her
eating knife was secure at her waist and walked outside. Her first stop was Elyoner’s cottage to see if she and Ananias had any laundry that needed washing.

Elyoner said, “Em, you are the most wonderful, thoughtful friend a person could have. I feel horrible letting you do this . . . but I know I cannot yet make the walk.”

“I don’t mind, Ellie, you’d do the same for me.”

“Perhaps I’ll be ready in a week or even less. You might even be nursing by then, and we’ll bring Virginia with us. I’m so excited for you to begin.”

“I, as well, Ellie.
I’m
ready
now
. . . but I doubt my milk is.” She smiled as she took the bag from Elyoner, slung it over her other shoulder. “Better be on my way. The others are waiting. We’ll talk when I return, before I fix dinner for Father and Hugh, though there really isn’t much to prepare.”

“Oh, that’s right. Master Tayler’s joining you tonight.” Elyoner felt her heart bump as she spoke the words; she donned a false smile then worried that she was being preemptively unfair to Tayler. But she had long since learned to trust her intuitions, and deferred to them now but kept her misgivings to herself.

Emily saw Elyoner’s hesitation, read her concern; she wanted desperately to know the root of it. “Aye, we’re looking forward to it. Should be interesting to see how Tommy Colman manages entertaining his daughter’s suitor. He’s never had to do so before.” She smiled, waved goodbye, and said, “See you in a few hours, Ellie. Kiss my baby.” She then turned and started toward the far side of the village.

“I shall indeed, Em. Enjoy the cool water. I’m envious.”

Halfway to the far palisades, Emily met Agnes Wood, Joyce Archard, and Audrey Tappan. One year older than Emily, Tappan had come with the colonists to meet her fiancé, and Wood to meet her husband, both of whom were among the thirteen missing soldiers. Archard was the wife of Arnold Archard, the man Waters had chastised for his greed. Three soldiers accompanied the women as they started toward the washing stream. Though the flow in the stream by the village had progressively slowed over the past few weeks, it still supplied adequate volume for drinking water; however, it lacked the swifter current and deep pools favored for washing clothes.
But even the better-flowing stream could only support four simultaneous washings; so forays were limited to that number, with successive groups scheduled to depart the village every two hours. The limitation was that the stream had but one deep hole with rocks; and because the rocks served as a table for beating the clothes with a washing bat, all the washers had to use sections of that same pool. So no more than four washings could be simultaneously supported without having to wash clothes in someone else’s dirty water.

Because they had only recently begun using the new stream, there was not yet a well-worn pathway to it; and the party had to work its way single file through the dense forest, with soldiers in front, behind, and in the middle of the group. Emily and Audrey Tappan walked thirty feet behind the front soldier, worked their way around briars and small trees, speaking softly so the guard wouldn’t hear them. Emily had talked to Audrey several times and liked her but had not developed the closeness she had with Elyoner. Audrey was rather homely and quite shy, but as sweet and caring as a human being could be. Emily knew she looked up to her, admired her self-confidence and quickness of mind, had said as much, but such things never influenced the way Emily treated someone. She also knew the disappearance of Audrey’s fiancé weighed heavily on her mind and heart, lurked just beneath the surface of fragile emotions. However, Emily doubted that any of the thirteen would ever be seen again, and she sensed that Audrey had accepted the same truth, for she had several times seen her talking to another young soldier.

Audrey said, “I think he’s the best looking of the lot. He’s also very nice and was just promoted to sergeant by Lieutenant Waters.”

“So what’s his name?”

“John Gibbes, it is. But he’s not guarding us today. He’s organizing equipment for the move, even though we don’t yet know where we’re going. I suppose you know all about that, don’t you, Em?”

“Only that the Assistants are trying to decide whether to go into the main to our west or to Chesapeake Bay to the north. They voted this morning to go to Chesapeake but
only
if the Savages there, the Chesapeakes, agree to let us settle beside them. They were quite friendly to the earlier
expedition, so hopes are high, even though it will require a long day’s sail on the open sea, albeit only a short distance offshore. Roger Baylye’s sending two assistants, some soldiers, and Manteo to visit the Chesapeakes tomorrow morning to see if they’ll help us. Manteo knows them well, so let’s pray for a successful mission.”

“John told me they’d been ordered to stop work on the palisades, so we’re obviously going
somewhere
. Do you care where?”

“No, Audrey, I don’t care at all, don’t know anything about either place. I just hope ’tis somewhere without Savages trying to kill us every time we step out of the village.” She wondered if Audrey’s lad and the other missing men had gone to the Chesapeake, how their discovery, alive or dead, might change the plan.

“Aye to that, Em.”

“Oh, we’re here.” Emily sighed, removed her hat, wiped her brow with her sleeve. “Time to work.”

The three soldiers quickly spread out around the small clearing that surrounded the washing pool, moved slightly into the timber about fifty feet from the stream to get a better view of the forest around them without sacrificing a good view of the ladies.

The four women went quickly to work, each picking a deep spot in the pool close to a good-sized rock on the bank or in the water. A few men had previously dammed the stream below the pool to enlarge it to about thirty feet by twenty feet with a depth of about two feet. The women dumped their dirty clothes on the grassy bank, removed their shoes, pulled their skirt hems up to their waists, and tied pieces of rope around them to hold them up above the knees. Their smocks, which were too short to be doubled up, hung freely to their knees.

Each then picked up a small armload of clothes and waded into the water with a few branches of soapwort in hand. The roots of the soapwort, which grew in abundance in England, as well as on Roanoke Island, produced a sudsy substance when cut or smashed, which the washers then massaged into the dirty, wet clothes. After considerable manipulation, they laid the clothes on a nearby rock, beat them with a washing bat—a paddle about twelve inches long and five inches wide with a foot-long handle slightly
smaller than a sword grip. The beating permeated the soapwort through the fabric and cleaned it; thus the four women attempted to maintain an equal pace so they could beat their clothes at the same time, which allowed the residual soapwort in the pool to flow downstream and clear the water for rinsing. So after the beating, they rinsed the soapwort from the clothes and hung them on trees and bushes to drain and dry while the next bundle was washed.

Only half listening to the chatter and banter of the others, Emily glanced around the clearing to locate the three soldiers. Two leaned on their muskets, gawking at the women, while the third, musket in hand, searched the forest as ordered. She made a mental remembrance to casually mention to Lieutenant Waters that some of his men seemed to have a keener interest in watching women than in watching for Savages, but quickly decided it was an incurable soldier trait not worth mentioning. Resuming her task, she savored the fresh smell of the soapwort, the coolness of the stream on her legs. She listened intently to the sounds of birds and other small creatures, emanating from the forest around her, marveled at their number and clarity. She smiled, wondered if they were talking
to
each other or
over
each other in a lively family discussion. Emily loved the forest, had always reveled in its peace and solitude, and today felt a new freedom, a special exhilaration at being in its heart, absorbing its life, its joyful sounds.

One of Emily’s pastimes at home had been to learn the voices of the birds and animals around her. She believed it strengthened her bond with nature, and she considered that bond an essential element of life. Today she’d paired three birds and one small squirrel-like creature with a short tail, with their songs; and she listened, searching for more as she rinsed a bundle of clothes, stepped out of the water, then walked the fifty feet to the tree line to hang them on branches to dry. As she stepped along, she heard a shrill warbling sound she hadn’t heard before. She stopped, aimed her ear toward the opposite side of the stream where the sound had come from, heard it again. The symphony of songs suddenly ceased.

None but Emily noticed. Something’s wrong, she thought, too quiet. She laid her bundle on the grass, scanned the tree line, the guards, the forest beyond them. Two guards had their eyes on her; the third watched the
women in the water. As she glanced toward the pool, she heard a dull thud behind her like a rock hitting metal, faced the sound. A naked Savage with a stone war club in his hand stood over the body of a motionless soldier.

“Hiyaaaa!” He shook his war club in the air then bashed the soldier two more times in the head.