Riverbreeze: Part 2 (19 page)

From his very first visit, he had always brought a little something for the children and they always remembered, but they were so well-behaved that they never begged. One little girl about seven years old, her head shaved all over except for a long braid at the back, had been chosen to speak for them today and in perfectly learned English, asked, “What-do-you-bring-for-us-today?”

“Sweeties.” He answered, smiling at the girl and then the rest. “Mmmm.” And then he pulled out from under his shirt a secret stash of sweets, marchpane and suckets wrapped in a handkerchief, that he kept on hand for Robin. The candies were a little crushed, but Robert knew the children wouldn’t care about that.

“I didn’t know you brought those.” Jamie said, from Robert’s side.

Robert smiled, pleased with himself. “I always bring something.” He started handing out pieces of the candy, delighting in the children’s looks of joy as they savored the almond-flavored marchpane and the sugary bits of fruit.

Once the candy had all been handed out, Robert looked up to see Owasewas coming for him and Jamie. Owasewas had a closed expression on his face and he said something to the children to make them all run back to their mothers.

“Uh oh.” Jamie said out of the corner of his mouth. “He doesn’t look too happy.”

“Remember, no matter what, we do not give up our guns.” Robert warned his brother. “Even if it means leaving Connelly.”

Jamie jerked his head to gape at Robert. “You mean it?” He asked, stunned.

Robert nodded. “I mean it.” He said, totally serious.

Owasewas stopped in front of the brothers. His expression didn’t change. “You come.” He said, signing. “Opechancanough waits.”

Feeling as if they were being led to the gauntlet, the brothers followed behind Owasewas to the largest longhouse, a dwelling about ten feet wide and twenty-six feet long. Robert noticed that all activity stopped as they were watched by everyone. He had never been treated like this before, stared at as if he were the enemy. It was almost as if they knew that their relationship would change after this visit; as if these negotiations would go bad.

The door to the house was made of a rush mat and it had been rolled up in anticipation of the guests. Right before entering, Robert took one last look at Connelly, shaking his head slightly, his gut telling him that the situation was hopeless. And from the look of him, Robert knew that even if they saved him, Connelly’s injured leg might never heal correctly and his mind might be forever ruined and he would be useless on the plantation. It was a shame really, a waste of a strong body and the loss of a human being. However, Robert knew that the Powhatans would not think of it that way. They would be grateful for the gift of this human, a human they could sacrifice to their god, Okee, to keep evil at bay and to ensure a successful hunt.

Ducking their heads, first Robert, then Jamie, then Owasewas stepped into the dark interiors of the house, but once inside they could stand straight. Owasewas immediately moved forward, while Robert and Jamie needed a moment for their eyes to adjust.

The place stank, as usual, and was very warm and smoky. The smells of wood smoke, tobacco smoke, earth and strong body odor permeated every molecule of air. Robert tried to breathe through his mouth, but it didn’t help much; and beside him, Jamie tried to stifle a cough, but failed miserably.

Three small fires were burning at intervals down the length of the longhouse in the middle of the hard-packed earth floor, the smoke lifting lazily to the smoke-holes in the ceiling. Several important men of varying ages sat on rush mats in a semi-circle around the fire closest to the door, all of them in breechclouts, their upper bodies decorated with paint and necklaces of shell and beads. One man had the wing of an eagle in his hair, another had a dried hand of an enemy tied into the lock of hair on the left side of his head. Another had a small, green garden snake writhing through a hole in his earlobe. And others wore head bands of white beads and large copper plates attached to the sides of their heads. All of them looked at Robert and Jamie with piercing black eyes, but none of them uttered a sound.

The chief sat at the head of the circle, on a raised platform covered with furs, facing the door. “
Wingapo
, Rah-bert. James.” The voice was deep and rusty-sounding, but not unfriendly.

“Wingapo
, Opechancanough.” Robert returned the greeting, bowing his head once. He was always respectful of this old chief, but never afraid, even though this man had orchestrated the massacre that had nearly wiped out the colony twenty-one years ago. And sometimes Robert even felt sorry for him; he knew how these people were being forced off their lands by the English, his own plantation had once been the lands of the Weyanokes and sometimes he regretted that they had lost those lands some twenty years ago, but then his other way of thinking would prevail, that the English were chosen by God to occupy this land.

“Wingapo
.” Jamie whispered, his throat still choked from the smoke.

“Sit. Smoke.” The chief said, pointing to two empty mats opposite him.

Chief Opechancanough was an elderly man in his nineties, but he was still a formidable leader. In 1618 when his brother, Wahunsonacock, known to the English as Powhatan, had died, their older brother, Opitchpan, had inherited the chiefdom, but Opitchpan was frail and lame, so Opechancanough superseded him.

Opechancanough hadn’t personally seen the arrival of the first three English ships on the Powhatan River in 1607 but he had quickly been informed of these new intruders and later in the year, after receiving instructions from his brother, Wahunsonacock, he and his men killed a small search party, but took John Smith alive, capturing him and bringing him back to this very village. A few weeks later, Opechancanough presented his brother with the captive, but John Smith was let go and soon after Smith took a hunting party back to Opechancanough’s village and captured him, demanding food for the starving colonists.

Years later, after periods of unrest, Opechancanough would witness the marriage of his niece, Pocahontas, to the Englishman, John Rolfe. And eleven years ago, after much raiding and warring between the savages and the Englishmen, he had agreed to a treaty, but Robert never knew if he was being sincere in his friendship or if he was just biding his time until the next attack.

Now Opechancanough sat straight before the fire, his long legs crossed, confident in his position. His face was lined with age, his hair nearly all gray and no beard to speak of, but his black eyes and his mind were still sharp. Hanging from his neck were great necklaces of freshwater pearls and copper discs and there were more copper discs and blue beads fastened around his knot of hair. He also wore copper bands around his upper arms, and around his wrists, bracelets of more beads and pearls.

“Thank you.” Robert said, moving to sit cross-legged on one of the mats. He nodded to several of the men and was relieved when they nodded in return. He had no desire to smoke the pipe; their tobacco was not as sweet as the Spanish variety that Robert and the rest of the English planters grew. But Robert wouldn’t dare to refuse. And he had never refused before.

Jamie, gratefully, took the second mat, and Owasewas squeezed in beside him.

The pipe was passed around. There was no rush, just the relaxed drawing in and blowing out of tobacco smoke. Jamie’s throat was still somewhat raw and again he couldn’t help but cough a little, but the men around him just laughed good-naturedly and Owasewas gave him a good slap on the back, nearly knocking him over. The men guffawed again.

Opechancanough said something to someone at the back of the house and Robert was surprised to see a woman there, sitting quietly on one of the sleeping platforms. He was surprised he hadn’t noticed her before, but she had been so quiet and unobtrusive. She was quite young and obviously pregnant. Robert wondered if this woman was the chief’s latest wife. He had so many, Robert couldn’t keep count.

She came forward quickly, bringing a gourd filled with water for Jamie. She was rather pretty with her long black hair dressed with white feathers. Intricate tattoos in geometric shapes decorated her arms, shoulders and her face. A supple deerskin skirt draped over her belly to her knees and several necklaces of white pearls covered her pert, naked breasts. Once again, Robert thought of Makkitotosimew and wondered where she might be.

Jamie accepted the gourd, thanked the woman, and just as quietly as she came, she retreated.

“We miss you, Rah-bert.” Opechancanough said suddenly. The pipe had returned to him and he puffed on it one last time before putting it aside.

“Ah, I’ve been busy…” Robert stuttered, surprised by the chief’s words. It had only been two months since his last visit. “I’ve been very busy harvesting my tobacco crop.”

He leaned forward eagerly. “You bring to-bac-co?” He asked quickly.

Robert swallowed nervously. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “Oh, no, but I brought you honey.” He pointed to the jugs that had been placed at Opechancanough’s feet. “I know you like the honey.”

“Yes, honey good.” He said, smiling a toothless smile. “Nittawosew!” He called for his wife again and said something sharp to her. Again she came forward quickly and picked up one of the jugs and uncorked it. She then poured a little of the honey into another smaller gourd and handed it to him. All the time she kept her eyes down and wouldn’t look at anyone.

Opechancanough dipped his forefinger into the honey and brought it to his mouth. Slowly he sucked on his finger, closing his eyes. He made a noise of appreciation and Robert allowed himself to relax a little, but only a little. He was starting to sweat under his buckskin shirt. It was always so damn hot in these longhouses. No wonder the savages went around nearly naked.

Everyone waited patiently and quietly while the chief enjoyed several finger dips of honey. No one would ever presume to interrupt him or rush him. Sometimes Robert realized that the savages had more manners than the English.

When Opechancanough was finally finished, he looked directly at Jamie. “We miss you, James. You not come much.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Robert saw Jamie jerk in surprise. “Ah, no, sir.” He hesitated, not knowing how to respond. “I was busy also, and I didn’t think I was…welcome.” He ended weakly.

Robert sighed and closed his eyes at Jamie’s answer. That was the wrong thing to say, he thought. Why would Jamie think he wasn’t welcome? But Robert knew that Jamie had always walked a fine line when refusing the gift of a woman. The Powhatans didn’t understand English morality at all.

Opechancanough raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You wel-come.” He said, magnanimously. “Con-nel-ly wel-come too.” Then he laughed as if he had made a fantastic joke and all the men laughed along with him.

Robert forced a smile, but he didn’t like that joke. The chief made it sound like he was including Jamie in the category of captive…or sacrifice.

Then the laughter died away and the men went eerily silent again.

The dead silence set Robert’s hackles on edge. He also thought this might be a good time to finally start the negotiations. He was taking a risk, but he was getting tired of waiting and he wanted to shift the attention from Jamie to himself. “Pardon me, Chief

Opechancanough.” He started. “About my runaway.”

Opechancanough’s expression turned fierce, an expression that could frighten the bravest of the brave. He interrupted Robert before Robert could say anything else, jabbing a finger at him. “Con-nel-ly say you mas-ter. Con-nel-ly say you come. Con-nel-ly say you kill me! You kill me, Rah-bert?” He demanded.

Robert paled, but in a split second he turned red with anger. He swiped at a bead of sweat at his temple. “No, Chief.” He said firmly. “I would never come here to kill you.
Never
! I am a friend to you and your people.
Mawchick chammay
.” He said, making the sign that Owasewas had taught him for the best of friends. “I have been a friend to you for the past two years….”

“Con-nel-ly say you kill me.” Opechancanough repeated stubbornly, his whole body taut with menace.

The tension was thick in the air, but Robert did not crumble under the chief’s stare or the stares of all the other men. He took a deep breath, calming himself, almost choking on the smoke, tears coming to his eyes, but he managed to quell the urge. It would not be good to lose his temper or to have a coughing fit right now. “Connelly lied to you.” His voice came out rough and he cleared his throat quickly. “I am
not
here to kill you.” He said in precise, firm words.

Opechancanough regarded Robert for a moment, as cool as ever. He never even blinked. “Show me. Give me
pawcussack
.” The chief said, pointing to Robert’s pistol.

You wily old bastard
, Robert thought, pressing his lips together. Now he wondered if Opechancanough had told him the truth about Connelly telling him he would kill him. Jamie shifted uneasily at Robert’s side and made a low noise of distress. “It will be alright.” Robert whispered to his brother.

“It be all right, Rah-bert?” Opechancanough demanded.

Damn, his hearing was good
! “I hope it will be, Chief. I want it to be alright. But you know I cannot give you my gun.” He declared. “I will not give you my gun.” He hurried on. “But I have brought you two jugs of honey. And Jamie and I have each brought you a hatchet…” He elbowed Jamie to indicate that Jamie should pull his hatchet out, then he pulled the small trade axe from his own belt and held it out to the chief, the axe head on his palm to showcase the beauty of the tool. Jamie did the same. “…good for chopping wood; good for chopping roots.”