Part 19 (1/2)

Leaving the Island I began to view Roanoke Island as a prison surrounded not by high walls but by impa.s.sable waters. We had no means to leave the island even if we knew how to find Chesapeake, even if travel in the winter were not so beset with risk. It would be spring before a s.h.i.+p could reach us or one of the shallops return from Chesapeake. There were days when I was convinced that neither would ever come. began to view Roanoke Island as a prison surrounded not by high walls but by impa.s.sable waters. We had no means to leave the island even if we knew how to find Chesapeake, even if travel in the winter were not so beset with risk. It would be spring before a s.h.i.+p could reach us or one of the shallops return from Chesapeake. There were days when I was convinced that neither would ever come.

Snow blanketed the village, m.u.f.fling all sound and confining us to our houses. To keep my mind occupied, I began writing again, using the empty pages from John White's journals. I wrote about the brave journey of Ananias and Eleanor Dare, so one day Virginia could read about her parents and be proud of them. I described my captivity in Nantioc and my relations.h.i.+ps with the Croatoan women. Most likely my account would never be published. Most likely I would never build my own house in Chesapeake, deal in dried tobacco, or introduce Indian designs to Londoners. I could scarcely have said what I did hope for, as the future seemed as bleak and featureless as the open sea.

And the past? It was as lost to me as were my own parents. The queen's court was a setting that belonged to someone else's story, not mine. I doubted Emme would even recognize me if I should reappear there. And Sir Walter, his letters and poems, his touch, the handkerchief-all were like pieces of a dream that scattered as soon as I awoke. What color were his eyes? What had civet smelled like? Or the lavender and rosewater that ladies perfumed themselves with? The queen-had she forgiven me? Had Sir Walter forgotten me? The present had a way of declining those questions, saying instead, Here is the place where you now must live. Here is the place where you now must live.

We were still in the cold grip of winter when Manteo returned to Fort Ralegh. He had come by sledge and canoe, bringing six men with him, a brace of waterfowl, and a creel of fish. I felt hope stir in me, not only because of the food, but also to see Manteo again. It was like the promise of spring when winter has begun to seem eternal.

I gathered the women to cook the fowl and fish and to bake cakes out of flour and ground walnuts. We carried the food to the armory, where the remnant of our colony and the natives feasted together. While the English sat at trestle tables and used trenchers and spoons, the Indians seated themselves on the ground and ate with their fingers. Manteo hesitated, sat at the table, and began to eat with his fingers. It made me smile to see how he had chosen a middle path.

Georgie Howe sat with the Indians, imitating their manner of eating. Fortunately, he did not connect these men with the death of his father. But some of the colonists were uneasy in the Indians' presence. They stared at the faces marked with paint and ritual scars; the hair, long on one side and shorn on the other; and the motley mantles sewn from animal skins. But everyone ate the food Manteo had brought, for we were hungry.

Because we had no governor or a.s.sistants, Ambrose Vickers made himself our spokesman. But he was blunt and unused to diplomacy. When the meal was done, he stood up with his arms akimbo and addressed Manteo loudly.

”We must know why you have come. What do you want from us now?”

I feared Manteo and his party would take offense at Ambrose's rough manner. Manteo did not reply at once but regarded all our company with a look of dismay, even sadness.

”We have no men or weapons to spare,” continued Ambrose. He looked at Graham, who shook his head in confirmation.

I beckoned Ambrose from the table and whispered to him. ”Let us be careful not to displease him after all he has done for us. First, express our grat.i.tude for the food.”

Ambrose threw up his hands. ”I know we ought to thank him, but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I know how. I'm a woodworker, not an orator.”

”Then will you allow me to speak on our behalf?”

Ambrose glanced again at Graham, who nodded once. Griffen Jones, the Welsh farmer, frowned, then shrugged his consent. Though he was of mean status, his opinion was valued by the men.

”Speak, then,” Ambrose said grudgingly. ”It may not be proper, you being a woman, but it's necessary.”

Recalling how John White had treated his Indian visitors, I had Graham place two chairs before the fire. I sat in one and offered Manteo the other. Two of his men flanked him, and Ambrose and Jones stood beside my chair.

”Lord Manteo, we greet you as a faithful ally and welcome you to Fort Ralegh,” I said in English, then added in Algonkian, ”Do not take offense, for none was intended. Ambrose Vickers is grateful to have his wife back, and I also thank you for my deliverance and for this food.”

Spoken in a rush, those words left me short of breath. I folded my hands in my lap. The armchair was too big for me and I felt like a child playing at being a queen. The color rose to my cheeks, whether from the nearness of the fire or the excitement of my role I could not say.

”I am pleased to be among you again,” Manteo said.

I could feel his eyes on me. To parley with him, I would have to meet his gaze as a man would. So I looked into his face, which was familiar to me but, after several months, somehow new and remarkable. His nose was straight, his mouth and the bones of his cheeks wide. The tawny hue of his skin pleased me. He was handsome, though not in the manner of Englishmen. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. To my surprise I was not afraid to look into them. No, I even wanted to see behind them, to see within Manteo himself.

I tried to rein in my wandering thoughts and organize some fitting words to speak. What would Elizabeth say to one of her foreign princes to discern his purpose and gain his trust?

First, because I longed to know her fate, I asked after Jane Pierce, and Manteo said she had given birth to a son, whom Tameoc treated as his own. The news made me glad. I could not see how the others reacted, but I spoke on behalf of their better natures.

”We are pleased and hope for greater fellows.h.i.+p between our people,” I said. ”Nantioc remains at peace, then?”

Manteo nodded. ”With Tameoc's help I have made an alliance between the people of Nantioc and the Croatoan. Those who followed Wanchese have scattered,” he said, spreading his hands for emphasis.

While murmurs of relief ran through the small a.s.sembly, Manteo lowered his voice. ”Tell me what has happened here.” ”Tell me what has happened here.”

I realized our appearance must be startling. We were thin, hollow-eyed with hunger, and our clothes hung in rags. Vainly I hoped I did not look quite so miserable as the others.

”Our circ.u.mstances are worse than when you left us last summer,” I said. ”Our food stores were plundered. Ananias Dare has been slain by Indians. And due to sickness there are but two dozen of us remaining.”

”And you, Ladi-cate. Have you suffered too? Ladi-cate. Have you suffered too?” The gentle tone of his voice caught me by surprise.

”Not as much as I deserved,” I said, glancing away.

”Your ordeal was not your fault,” he said.

I knew he meant my ordeal of captivity. For months I had wished for an opportunity to show my grat.i.tude to Manteo. Now it had come. ”I thank you that I did not become Wanchese's wife,” I said. The remembrance of that day returned to me: Manteo lying motionless on the ground, covered with blood, then finally stirring to life. My curiosity had to be satisfied, and I asked, ”Did you kill him for my sake only? And why did you call me 'Moon Maiden'?”

Manteo looked down. Perhaps he did not like to be reminded of that day. Then he blushed, if that is possible for one with such tawny skin.

”Ladi-cate, there is a legend of the hunter Algon-”

Jones interrupted. ”Enough of this formal parley. Cate, ask him in plain English if he knows who attacked us and killed Ananias.”

I had risen halfway from my chair, sensing that Manteo was about to disclose a deep truth I wanted to hear. But at Jones's words I sat down again. Could they hear the catch in my voice as I asked Manteo what he knew about these enemies?

”They are allies of Wanchese who will not accept me as their weroance.” He paused, then spoke to all of us. ”When spring comes they will return. There are enough of them to take this fort.”

I heard the sharp intake of breath and a muttered oath from Ambrose.

”We must strengthen the palisade without delay,” said Graham. ”And train every able-bodied person to handle a musket.”

”My people can help you,” Manteo said.

”Can you teach the men to use bows and arrows? The women, too?” Ambrose paced back and forth. ”We will trade anything for weapons.”

”You misunderstand,” Manteo said.

Ambrose and Graham ignored him, caught up in their planning.

”How then can your people help us?” I asked Manteo.

He leaned toward me, his dark eyes wide and intense.

”You must come and live with me. With us.”

My heart was pounding. The edges of my sight grew blurred, until Manteo's face was all I could see. The air in the armory was heavy with heat from the fire and thick with the smells of roasted fish and game and the bear grease from the Indians' bodies. What did Manteo mean?

”You, Moon Maiden, and the others. You would all be safer,” he was saying.

Feeling dazed, I said, ”How can we leave here? This has become our home, despite our troubles here.” I realized he had called me ”Moon Maiden” again.

”I must not ignore a message from the G.o.d Ahone. Ladi-cate, your destiny as a people lies with us. You must persuade the others.”