Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (126 page)

“Help me, Ananias . . . a hole . . . stepped in a hole.”

Ananias grasped Elyoner’s hands, pulled her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

“Nay. I’ll be fine. Em, can you see to—”

Emily whispered to Virginia, caressed her cheeks. “ Shhhhh, little one. Do not tell the Powhatans we’re here. Quiet now . . . that’s it. You shall be fine. Hush now. That’s it. Are you ready, Ellie?”

“Aye, onward.”

A quarter hour later, Emily calculated they were slightly behind schedule, needed to accelerate their pace. She glanced back over her shoulder to tell the Dares they had to go faster, instantly stopped. “Ellie, what’s wrong?”

Elyoner stood twenty feet behind Emily and Ananias, stared spacily at the ground.

Ananias whispered, “Ellie, what is it?”

“I . . . I cannot do this, Ananias.” Sobs muddled her words. “I . . . I cannot.”

“Elyoner, you must. ’Tis Virginia’s only hope.”

“No, Ananias. I’ve thought on it all night . . . even now, here, in the forest. I cannot do it . . . cannot desert the colony . . .
Father’s
colony. I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

“Elyoner!”

“No! I’m the governor’s daughter. ’Tis my duty to stay . . . to the end . . . die if I must.”

“Ellie, what are you saying? We cannot—”

“Ananias! Stop! Take Virginia, go with Emily.” Moonlight sparkled on her moist cheeks; her voice crackled with emotion. “Go now . . . before I completely lose myself.” She wriggled out of her pack, held Virginia in front of her, stared at her with mournful, tortured eyes, then shook her head. “Why must it end this way . . . my dear, dear baby. How I love you.” She squeezed her to her breast.

Ananias studied her then whispered softly, acquiescently, “ Elyoner, my love, I feared this would happen. You are such a noble soul.” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I, of course, will remain with you.” They stared solemnly at one another for a long moment, held hands, then together embraced Virginia.

Elyoner turned slowly to Emily, tears flowing from her eyes. “Em, you are my very best friend in this world. None but you would I trust with my child . . . my dear baby!” She held Virginia tight against her breast, closed
her eyes. “Ohhhhh, my child . . . my Virginia. How I love you.” She opened her glassy eyes, looked into Emily’s, slowly handed Virginia to her. “She’s yours, Em. Protect her, love her, raise her as your own. And when she’s old enough, tell her about us . . . perchance return here, show her where she was born . . . where we died.”

Emily grasped Elyoner’s arms, shook her head. “Noooo!”

“Do this for me, my dear, dear friend. Please, I beg you.”

Emily stared at her, didn’t move, didn’t speak, then slowly reached out, took Virginia in her arms.

Elyoner said, “God be with you, Emily Colman . . . pray for us.”

Emily searched for words, found none. Elyoner and Ananias quickly hugged her, kissed her cheeks, laid their hands briefly on Virginia’s forehead, then turned, faded into the darkness, back toward the colony. Emily stood stunned, numb, devastated, stared at the empty darkness where they’d stood a moment before; she tasted salty tears, felt their warmth as they crept slowly down her cheeks. Ellie, my friend, my sister . . . Ananias . . . dear Lord, why? How can this happen? I shall never see them again . . . nor will Virginia.

She sighed, abruptly turned, cradled Virginia in her arms, jogged off toward the rendezvous with Isna. Nausea dizzied her mind, soured her stomach. She imagined Elyoner and Ananias being hacked to pieces by crazed Powhatans, heard their helpless screams as they reached for one another. Dear God, let them die quickly . . . all of them . . . and please care for Shines, and . . . oh, Lord, what if the Powhatans consider the Chesapeakes our allies . . . part of the prophecy . . . attack
them
, as well? Saints above, please, no. Pray thee spare Shines.

Fifty yards later, Emily heard brush crack behind her. She stopped, turned; glanced at Virginia, who miraculously slept; heard the sound again, this time closer, then again. Saints above, what should I do? She shifted Virginia gently to her left shoulder, held her with her left arm while she reached behind her back with her right hand, pulled her knife from its sheath. She heard another crack, heard her heart pounding. She tried to steady herself, slow her breathing, was ready to run, when a surprise pulse of hope surged through her heart. Praise heaven, they’ve changed their
minds . . . they’re coming! Her lips slowly curved into a smile. Thank you, Lord. Thank you. She sheathed her knife, shifted Virginia back to her arms, then started toward the sound as she smiled with anticipation. “Ellie, I’m over here. This way!”

Suddenly she stopped; her smile withered; she stepped slowly backward, felt her mind muddle with confusion, panic. Hugh Tayler stood a few feet before her. She turned to run.

Tayler lunged at her, reached out, grabbed a handful of hair, pulled her toward him. She stumbled blindly backward, nearly dropped Virginia. He gripped her shoulders, spun her around to face him, pulled her close, glared into her eyes.

She felt his breath in her face, trembled, panted; her mind swirled in chaos; terror paralyzed her body. She clutched Virginia to her breast with an iron grip.

“Emily, my love, I feared I’d never see you again . . . that I’d never again feel the warmth of your body against mine.” He sighed.

“Let me go! I came to you as you asked. There was a body . . . a man grabbed me, and—”

“ ’Twas I who grabbed you. I’d no choice. One of the guards refused my bribe, would not agree to let you in or leave us alone. We struggled . . . I killed him.” He looked momentarily remorseful. “But we got his body through the palisades and concealed while everyone ran about preparing for this imaginary Powhatan attack.” He smirked. “Fools. There will be no attack . . . and Lord Walsingham’s ship will arrive any day, and I shall return to England under his protection . . . and
you
shall accompany me and be my wife.”

Emily’s jaw dropped; her eyes swelled in disbelief. Isna, find me, save me. “But . . . but how did you . . .”

“I suspected you’d leave with your Savage, so I watched the Dares’ cottage from the shadows . . . then slipped through the palisades just behind you and them when Waters resumed his preparations for the attack . . . but before his replacement took over his watch. So here we are, Emily Colman . . . you and Hugh Tayler . . . alone”—he noticed Virginia for the first time, scowled—“
almost
alone . . . in this dark forest . . . under a glorious full moon . . . a fitting place for me to tell you again how much I love you and
that I can never allow you to leave my life . . . especially with a primitive Savage.” He shook his head. “Truly, why would you want to be with a Savage, when I can give you everything you desire? I will—”

“Because I do not love you, Hugh Tayler . . . and I
dearly
love
him
.”

He stared at her in silent disbelief then spoke softly, affectionately, as if her words had dissipated before reaching his ears. “You are my salvation, Emily Colman, my reason for living, and I again beg you to forgive my transgressions. But whether you do or not, you
shall
return to the colony and England with me and be my wife.”

Fear sliced through Emily like a glowing-hot knife through wax; she trembled; her voice cracked with fury and fear. “Hugh Tayler, the Powhatans
are
coming tonight, and no one will be left alive. And your fantasies of rescue are the aimless meanderings of an insane man . . . as is your expectation that I will go with you and yield to you.”

Tayler looked briefly insulted then smiled. “Milady, you may be correct about my insanity, but it matters not. And if you also happen to be correct about the Powhatans, then I shall die a happy man for having spent my final moments in the warmth of your body.”

Emily jammed the hard toe of her shoe into his shin, tried to turn and run. Tayler groaned but held her fast, dug his fingers into her shoulders. Pain shot down her arms; she twisted left and right, tried to break free. “Curse you, Tayler! Let go!”

He grasped her wrists, looked into her eyes with the same crazed look he’d had at the rape; his breathing quickened; he pried her hands from Virginia.

Emily screamed as the baby fell to her back on the ground, began to sputter then cry. “Virginia! Let me help her, you swine.” She jerked, twisted wildly, but he held her fast. He pulled her away from Virginia, yanked her into an embrace, and pressed his lips against hers. As he held her with one arm, he pulled up her dress with the other, then glided his hand over her thigh, caressed her behind, slid his fingers between her legs.

“No! Damn you, Tayler. Let go!” Tears filled her eyes; she tried to squeeze her legs together, felt his fingers pushing higher between them.
Her pulse and breathing quickened. She heard Virginia screaming. God, help me. Please! Isna, find me, let me—

She heard a sharp grunt behind Tayler. He moaned and lurched forward, pushed her to the ground on her back, then yanked his dagger from his belt, spun about with a blind slice at whoever was behind him.

Emily saw a knife in Tayler’s back, saw Emme Merrimoth drop to her knees, blood gushing from her sliced throat. She fell forward onto her knees and hands, gurgled, “Run, Em.” Her eyes rolled back in their sockets; she collapsed to her face, lay still on the ground.

“Emme!”

As Tayler staggered toward her, Emily sprang to her feet, gawked briefly at Emme, then leaped the two steps to Virginia, grabbed her rucksack on the run, sprinted away.

She’d made thirty yards when she suddenly stopped, wrapped her arms protectively around Virginia. She started to the right, stopped again, felt terror paralyze her senses, cloud her head. Her legs buckled; she trembled. Thirty feet to her front and left stood sixty or more Powhatan warriors.

The Panther, painted as at Roanoke, stepped slowly toward her, three warriors at his sides. He stopped in front of her, glared into her eyes while the moonlight gave a fearsome, ghostlike aura to his painted face.

Emily dropped to her knees, shielded Virginia, waited for his deathblow.

Tayler yelled, “Emily, I love you!” She glanced toward his voice, saw him rushing toward her, his sword above his head.

The Panther stepped past Emily into Tayler’s path, a stone tamahaac in his right hand, a knife in his left. Tayler slashed at his head; but the Panther sidestepped, sliced his tamahaac deep into Tayler’s forearm, yanked it free, then waited for his next move.

Tayler screamed, sank to his right knee; quickly stood again, faced the Panther; grabbed the sword with his left hand, raised it for another slash. But before it moved, the three warriors seized Tayler by the arms and head from behind. The one holding his head yanked Emme’s knife from Tayler’s back, quickly sliced a six-inch slit across his throat. Tayler’s eyes bulged; he gasped for air, spewed blood from throat and mouth, tried to speak, gagged. The Panther watched him with contempt then thrust his knife into
the left side of his belly, sliced it slowly sideways, rib to rib, then up the middle to the bottom of his chest.

Emily vomited as Tayler’s guts spilled from his body, hung from his waist like a rumpled apron. The warriors let his body crumple to the ground then followed the Panther toward Emily.

Emily stood, held Virginia over her left shoulder, backed away, reached for her pistol with her trembling right hand. Fie! Didn’t light the match. Dear Lord, help me.

The Panther and his men suddenly stopped, focused their eyes behind Emily.

Emily glanced over her shoulder, saw Isna and his three Lakota a few feet away, their bows drawn, aimed at the Panther. No one moved.

The Panther motioned with his tamahaac for Isna and his men to leave. Isna smiled, spoke in Lakota. The Panther looked at Emily, jerked his chin slightly upward, signaling her to translate Isna’s words.

She fought to steady her tumbling mind, finally collected herself, signed, “He said, ‘ ’Tis a good day to die.’”

The Panther looked at Isna, smirked, stowed his weapons, signed, “Not this night . . . but when we next meet . . . soon.” He turned, vanished, ghostlike, into the darkness with his men.

Emily took a deep breath, trembled, fixed her eyes on Isna.

He walked slowly to her, touched her cheek, pulled her and Virginia into his arms, held them close for a long moment, kissed her hair. “We must move swiftly, my little one.”

Emily nodded, laid Virginia on the ground; removed her rucksack of supplies from her back, handed it to Isna; knelt, checked Virginia, caressed her cheek, then slipped Virginia’s rucksack onto her back. “We’re ready.”

Isna nodded, turned, led Emily and the Lakota at a brisk pace to the west.

Twenty minutes later, they crossed a stream, stopped to sip the fresh water, top off their water bladders. Emily said, “Isna . . . there were so many of them . . . why did they let us go?”

“The Panther leads the attack against your people. It will come from three or four directions, and
he
will give the signal to begin. He could not
risk the noise or delay of a fight . . . or his own death . . . which was certain if we fought.”

She nodded. “How quickly will he pursue?”

“They will celebrate their victory . . . perhaps until midday. Then he will pursue, but with only a few of his best warriors.”

“Why only a few?”

“Because we have hurt them before, and he knows we are dangerous enemies . . . and there will be far greater honor in killing us if they are few.”

Emily stared at him, fear in her eyes, sighed. I shall never understand this thinking. “How soon will they catch us?”

“Perhaps when the sun rises on the second day . . . but before we reach the mountains, and the Monacans, who would protect us.”

Emily thought for a moment. “We will move slower because of Emily and Virginia. Perhaps Emily should—”

“Emily and Virginia will come with us. We must go now.” He nodded at his men, turned to leave as the throaty rumble of matchlocks echoed in the distance. All five looked east, saw two yellow glows above the treetops, heard the faint shrill of war cries mingle with screams of terror.