Jamestown (The Keepers of the Ring) (36 page)

Fallon closed his eyes against the pain of the falling blows and traveled back, picking up the strings of time.
The words of a familiar song filled his head, and he took a deep breath and began to sing: “A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing. Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing . . .”

Kimi padded softly around the standing circle of spectators, intending only to show her face to Askook for a moment, long enough to assure him that she had done her duty as his intended wife.
But over the sound of the victorious chanting and the squeals of the excited children, a clear baritone voice rang out. The shock of the sound held her riveted to the ground. She knew the song, though she could not predict the words, but each phrase of the lyrics rang in her heart.

She whispered along with the singer:
“For still our ancient foe . . . doth seek to work us woe . . .”

Memories threatened to come crowding back like unwelcome guests, and Kimi pressed her lips together and shouldered her way through the crowd, determined to discover who had dared open the doors to her secret place of grief.

“On earth is not his equal,” Fallon finished the song, dimly aware that the noise around him had stilled. The silent warriors stood frozen in a circle around him, and for a moment even the children had stopped their blows. Expressions of startled delight lay upon their faces, and Fallon knew they would have responded in the same way if a doomed deer had begun to speak.

The ministers prayed softly from their places, and Brody’s fearful whimpers cut through their whispers. Not a soul moved in the Indian camp till one young girl broke through the line of spectators and gazed at Fallon with chilling intentness. He lifted his eyes to hers in a mute plea for help but for an instant was startled by her beauty.

Opechancanough stepped forward from his place and motioned to his warriors.
Battered and bruised, Fallon was lifted up and away from the torture pole and dragged to a large rock near the chief’s hut. The crowd followed expectantly, and Fallon sighed in relief, knowing that the torture session had been cut short. Most tribes tortured condemned prisoners with unspeakable cruelty for hours before mercifully ending a captive’s life, but for some reason Opechancanough seemed eager to be done with this dealing of death.

The priest muttered an incantation, and Fallon tossed a brief smile to Brody over the heads of his audience. “Do not fear,” he called, forcing a note of triumph into his voice. “We’ll be eating dinner at the Lord’s table this noon!”

Opechancanough growled, and Fallon pulled against the restraining hands of his captors until he faced the chief.
“To you, Opechancanough, I say this: the blood of Christians is seed; we will multiply whenever we are mown down by the forces of darkness. Do what you will, evil one, but you will not claim this victory!”

The dark light of anger gleamed in the chief
’s eye. He gestured to his warriors, who leapt forward and forced Fallon to his knees. He had time to scan the faces before him one last time, and saw the beautiful girl again, her smoke-blue eyes wide and perturbed. Her hair hung wet upon her shoulders, as if she’d just come from the river, and a single ring of gold hung from her neck and gleamed against her damp skin.

Someone yanked his head to the side and pressed it down onto the rock.
He did not resist, knowing the war club would soon descend. He closed his eyes, awaiting the final blow, then the windows of his memory flew open. The ring! Her blue eyes! ‘Twas not an Indian girl who stood before him in the crowd—

“
Gilda!” he screamed, struggling against the executioners who held him down. “Gilda!”

Kimi trembled as the Englishman resisted death.
He had gone willingly to the rock, and for a moment she had thought she would see Christian faith in action, a martyr’s story worthy of those Reverend Whitaker used to tell. But then the man looked at her and screamed that strange name.

Gilda!
Who was Gilda?

A black veil moved painfully at the back of her mind and she resisted, but the memory of another man
’s head on the rock of execution edged her teeth. Her friend John Smith had once been in this place, and Pocahontas had leapt forward to save him. But like Pocahontas, John Smith had left her. Everyone she had ever loved had left her.

Two warriors on opposite sides of the rock picked up their heavy battle clubs.
Two others held the prisoner in place. He continued to shout the name she refused to hear, and tears spilled from his eyes as his face twisted and scraped over the stone as he struggled in his efforts to reach someone—

Her hands clenched and unclenched at her side.
The conjuror nodded to the warriors, and the heavy clubs swung into the air.

Fallon closed his eyes and felt the wetness of his own tears upon his cheeks.
He heard the swift intake of breath from the crowd and knew that the warriors stood ready to land the mortal blows. He shouted one final time: “Gilda!”

“
Stop!”

Soft arms fell upon his head, cradling him from the deathblows.
He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, not understanding what had happened, and a moment later someone pulled his blessed savior from him.

He opened his eyes and cautiously lifted his head.
The girl who had to be Gilda stood before Opechancanough, who questioned her rapidly in the Indian tongue. She fired back answers with the insolence of youth, defiantly lifting her chin as if she possessed some kind of authority. Then Opechancanough leveled a charge and she paled and grew silent. Fallon felt his heart sink. Had his brash determination endangered Gilda, too?

But another warrior answered the silence following the chief
’s charge by stepping forward. This man gave the chief a terse comment for which Opechancanough had no answer. The chief finally held up his hands in an attitude of surrender, then gestured to Fallon, the girl, and the three waiting prisoners. While the tribe watched in stunned silence, Opechancanough dramatically folded his arms and turned his back on the scene.

The girl hurried to Fallon
’s side and put her hand under his elbow to help him to his feet. “Come, we must go away at once,” she said in perfect English, untying the bonds that held his wrists. “Untie Reverend Buck and Reverend Whitaker, and I will unloose your friend. They must not linger in these lands, for the chief will not be merciful the second time you are brought before him.”

“
You know the ministers?” Fallon asked, amazed at the purity of her speech. He had not remembered the Algonquin dialect half so well.

“
Of course,” the girl snapped, striding rapidly toward Brody. “We must hurry.”

He followed her, fascinated by the clean purity of her profile and the ethereal beauty of her eyes.
He remembered Gilda as a golden, chubby child, but all traces of girlishness, immaturity, and baby fat had evaporated from her features. Gilda had become a woman, and she moved before him as if she were totally unaware of her significance in his life.

“
Gilda,” he whispered, falling into step beside her as she advanced toward the place of torture. “I am Fallon Bailie. Do you not know me?”

Her gaze swept over him from head to toe, and she did not smile as she answered.
“I am Kimi of the Powhatan. I do not know you.”

The circle of observers grew restless, probably eager for blood, Fallon thought, and he moved swiftly to loosen the bonds of the ministers.
As he untied Reverend Whitaker, he could hear Brody blubbering his thanks as the girl cut his bonds with a dagger from her belt.

“
What happened?” Whitaker whispered as Fallon released him. “I couldn’t see over the crowd. Why are we free to go?”

“
Because God works in mysterious ways,” Fallon answered, his eyes fastened upon the girl called Kimi.

twenty-nine

T
he crowd parted silently before them as Kimi led the way through the gates of the palisade. Her mind whirled in a series of disconnected thoughts as she fell into a quick, easy step along the trail that led through an open meadow and then to the river. The vivid memory of Pocahontas’s rescue of John Smith had compelled her to save the copper-haired Englishman, but she had never dreamed that Opechancanough would challenge her.

“
Why are you doing this?” he had asked, his eyes flashing as she left the side of the condemned prisoner.

“
It is my right,” she answered, her voice quavering despite her resolve. “Just as Matoaka once saved an Englishman, so I wish to spare this one.”

“
You have no rights here,” Opechancanough replied, his words raw and angry in the morning stillness. “Matoaka was the chief’s daughter. You are nothing.”

The earth seemed to shift beneath her feet; the circle of onlookers swayed before her eyes.
A trembling rose from deep inside her and moved steadily upward through her chest. She could not deny his words.

But Kitchi, son of Powhatan, stepped out from the crowd
and placed his hands on his hips in a fierce, protective gesture. “She is my daughter, blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. I claim her as my own, and give her the right to spare this prisoner and the others.”

The chief pressed his lips together in silent fury, unable to dispute Kitchi
’s claim. Kimi stared at the warrior in a daze of confused gratitude, then Opechancanough jerked his head toward the warriors who waited with their battle clubs. They lifted the copper-haired man to his feet, and Opechancanough pronounced a new verdict: “Their lives are spared, but you must take them from the land of the Powhatan before the sun sets. They are yours, Woman-with-a-secret. What will you do with them?”

“
I will restore them to their people.”

Sounds from the men who were now her responsibility returned her to the present.
Behind her, the one who called himself Fallon grew breathless as he struggled to keep up. The golden-haired man walked silently with fear in his eyes, and the two ministers uttered quiet prayers of thanksgiving as they walked behind.

When they left the open field and entered the sanctuary of the forest, she paused to steal a backward glance toward the palisade.
“They haven’t followed, if that’s what y’are thinking,” Fallon offered.

She turned on him in a flash of defensive spirit.
“I did not think they would follow,” she lied, angry that he had guessed her thoughts. “Mayhap I wanted another look at the home I am leaving for your sake, Englishman!”

He blanched before her anger, and she whirled and led them through the woods in a steady jog.
Before long, she had the satisfaction of hearing a wheezing cough from the stout Reverend Buck, and Fallon begged her to stop and rest.

She paused on the trail, a bit winded herself, and the ministers collapsed on the ground, closing their eyes against the summer heat.
The golden-haired man sat on a fallen tree and hung his head between his knees. A warrior’s blows had bloodied his forehead, and he walked with a limp.

“
I pray you remember that we have not been long off the ship from England,” Fallon said, leaning forward with his hands at his waist. “We cannot continue this pace.”

“
I should have left you to die on that rock if you cannot survive in the forest,” she said, making an effort to steady her voice. She breathed deeply through her nose so they would not guess how tired she was.

Fallon
’s red hair was stringy with sweat and his face as pale as paper, but his eyes seemed to probe her very soul. “Why did you save us?” came the unexpected question. “The chief was not happy with your interference.”

“‘
Twas my right,” she answered, sitting cross-legged on a clump of roots. “I once saw my sister save another condemned Englishman. ‘Twas her example that gave wings to my feet.”

“
Your sister?” Fallon sank to the ground beside her and stretched his long legs out before him. Through the torn edges of the leggings Kimi could see nasty purple bruises from the children’s sticks.

“
Matoaka, daughter of Powhatan, was my sister,” she answered, her voice husky as her throat tightened with memories. She could not bring herself to speak that more familiar, beloved name.

“
If y’are a daughter of Powhatan,” Fallon pressed, his forehead creased with apparent concern, “then why did the chief hesitate to grant your request? The other man had to intervene before Opechancanough relented.”

Kimi pressed her lips together.
This man was perceptive, she had to admit, but why did he care how she had saved him? “Anyone has a right to stop an execution if he or she will take responsibility for the captives,” she said, bending the truth to fit an Englishman’s limited understanding. “The chief questioned my wisdom. But Kitchi stepped forward and—”

“
Kitchi?”

“
Kitchi,” she answered, frowning at him. “He is a brave warrior, and the chief could not refuse both of us.” She cleared her countenance and painted on a mocking smile. “So now you and your friends owe me your lives. If we had remained in camp I could have adopted you, killed you, or made you my slaves. But since the chief admonished me to take you away—”

“
You would not do any of those things,” Fallon answered, again seeming to read her thoughts. He lay back upon the earth, pillowing his head in his crossed hands, and closed his eyes in a patch of dappled sunlight. Just when she thought he had fallen asleep, he opened one eye. “So your name means naught to you?”

“
Kimi? I am woman-with-a-secret. The chief gave me the name.”

“
I’m sure your secret is very interesting,” Fallon murmured, his voice pitched low so that only she could hear. “But I knew you once by another name. As sure as I live, y’are Gilda Colman, daughter of Jocelyn and Thomas Colman. You lived with your parents in the village called Ocanahonan—”

“
I will not hear such nonsense!” The words rose from her on a wave of confused and crazily furious emotions, and she leapt to her feet and backed away from him. “I am Kimi of the Powhatan!”

“‘
Tis strange, then, that I knew you as Numees, sister of the maiden I married to John Rolfe,” Reverend Buck said, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. “Come now, daughter, can you be thinking I’d forget you in only four years? You’ve become a lovely young woman, but there’s no mistaking our blue-eyed Numees.”

“
Indeed not,” Reverend Whitaker added, the light of recognition filling his eyes. “By heaven, I had nearly forgotten! But you were there in my classroom with Mistress Rebecca, and you learned the catechisms even more readily than she, if I remember aright.”

“
Because, good sirs, she hath known them from her childhood,” Fallon said, standing. He extended his hand to her, and he looked fully into her eyes. “Y’are Gilda Colman. You were my childhood friend, and on the night Powhatan attacked Ocanahonan our parents gave me charge of both you and my brother, then sent us down the river. I cared for you until Powhatan’s warriors raided the village where we had taken refuge. We were captured and carried away. Do you remember naught of it? You have probably thought me dead these many years—”

A rush of bitter remembrance swept over her and she threw up her hands as if to ward off a blow.
She felt as though she had worn the mantle of grief for a long time, but had she donned it so early? To accept this man’s words would be to embrace losses she could not recall . . .

“
I am not Gilda,” she whispered, turning from him. “And I am no longer Numees, for now I have no sister.”

“
I can prove who y’are,” Fallon went on relentlessly, stepping closer. “The circle of gold around your neck is a ring placed there by Jocelyn Colman, the woman you knew as mother. There is an inscription she often used to repeat, for her father sent her to Virginia with a single charge—”

“
I can bear witness to this,” Reverend Whitaker interrupted, leaning forward in excitement. “I have seen the ring’s inscription.”

“
With respect, sir, be silent,” Fallon answered, casting the minister a warning glance. He came close enough for her to see concern radiating from the depths of blue eyes like hers, and her heart thudded like a drum when he reached out and took her hands. “Your charge for life, Gilda Colman, is written upon your heart as well as upon that ring:
boldly, faithfully, successfully.
Can you look at me and say that you do not recognize the truth in my words?”

His voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, drowning out the wild noises, and Kimi wanted to break free of his grip and pull the offending words from her ears.
She was furious at the vulnerability she felt in his grasp, stunned that he knew the foreign words it had taken her years to understand, and mystified that God could have whirled her painful past round to meet her again.

“
No!” she screamed, ripping her hands from his grip. “I will not believe you!” She turned to run, but the golden-haired man had risen behind her. He caught her as easily as she and Pocahontas had snagged butterflies in their nets of woven flax. She beat against his chest, weeping with frustration and sorrow, and he held her tight until her tears would come no more.

Fallon was not surprised to discover that their canoe and supplies had disappeared from the place where they had been captured.
He stood on the riverbank, wearily considering their options, and the others sank to the ground in exhaustion. Gilda had not spoken since her outburst in the forest, and now she walked away from the group and plucked several broad leaves from a shrub. After spreading the leaves on the ground near the water’s edge, she lay down and turned her back on the knot of tired men.

“
We should sleep here,” Fallon remarked. “In sooth, this is as good a place as any. If we are fortunate another passing vessel will pick us up.” He leveled the ashes of their previous fire with his boot. “I will build a fire and keep the first watch.”

“
Sleep here?” Brody asked, his face twisting into a startled expression of disapproval. “In the same cursed spot where the savages took us? What if they come back?”

“
They won’t come back,” Reverend Whitaker answered, following Gilda’s example by spreading leaves on the ground. “We’ve been ransomed, at least for this present time. And we have naught they could want.”

“
What if they come for the girl?” Brody persisted.

“
They won’t,” Fallon answered, venturing out of the clearing to gather wood. “She left by her own choice.”

Not entirely convinced, Brody slumped against a tree, choosing to sleep upright, and Fallon gathered an armload of
kindling, then lit it with the flint in his doublet pocket. When the fire burned steadily, he set a log into the midst of the flames. Keeping his eyes turned in the direction of the woods, he sat with his back to the river. Unbidden, his gaze fell upon the girl’s slender form. His heart went out to her, for his news had brought her much anguish. In time she would reconsider his words, and when she did, how could she not be awed by the mighty working of God? Not only had he reunited the two of them, but God had used her to save Fallon from the devilish hand of Opechancanough.

More important, Fallon reflected grimly, God had prevailed against that particular devil
’s prophecy. Eleven years ago Opechancanough had looked into Fallon’s frightened eyes and predicted that Gilda would forget the things of God and her family. Though she had forgotten much, the things of God had been engraved upon her heart and the Almighty had seen fit to refresh the writing through men like the two ministers who slumbered even now around the fire.

And yet he sensed within her a certain pride, an instinctive defensiveness of all things Indian.
‘Twas only natural that she should feel so, he reasoned, since the Indians had reared her, but how could she defend the so-called wisdom of Opechancanough, the fiend who had incited Powhatan to destroy Ocanahonan and their parents?

Fallon felt his blood stir within him as he considered his own desire for vengeance.
Because of Opechancanough’s evil, he, too, had grown up as an orphan. Gilda was not the only one who had tasted bitter loneliness and grief. She had not suffered alone. And somewhere beneath these very stars, Noshi lived and waited for them to find him. Fallon prayed that his little brother had not suffered as much as he and Gilda.

“
Always take careful soundings, lad,”
a voice called in his memory as his eyes grew heavy. ‘Twas the voice of Christopher Newport as he navigated his way into the English Channel.
“For nothing ever stays the same.”

When sleep threatened to overtake him, he crawled forward and put his hand on Brody
’s shoulder. His friend’s eyes flew open and his hand automatically closed around a large stick, but Fallon soothed him. “Naught is amiss, Brody, but I must sleep. Can you take the second watch?”

“
Yea,” Brody answered, settling into the easy smile of his usual temperament. He crawled toward the fire, shaking leaves from his hair, and stretched out like an old dog on the ground. “You didn’t tell me this sister of yours was so beautiful, Fallon,” he teased, tossing a handful of kindling onto the fire. “‘Pon my soul, if I had known she was so ravishing, I’d have suggested that we come to Virginia years ago. When she fell into my arms back there, ‘twas all I could do—”

“
She’s not my sister, but she’s in my care,” Fallon answered, lying back upon the damp ground. “So you’ll keep your thoughts away from her, Brody McRyan, or you’ll have to reckon with me.”