Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) (20 page)

Beth Glane
’s homely face rearranged itself into a grim smile. “I’ve had my doubts about you all along, Reverend,” she said, folding her hands primly, “and will talk to the Governor and our council about removing you at once. What I’ve seen here today leads me to believe that you are not fit to lead the flock of God in this colony, and I’ll stand with Doctor Jones to give witness to the questionable character of this girl and you, reverend sir!”

Thomas
’ face darkened. “The character of my wife is not at issue here,” he snapped, all goodwill gone from his voice. “If you have anything against me, you may speak your mind before the council. Until then, I trust you will keep your peace and hold your tongues, lest your lives be as rigorously examined as mine.”

Without a further word, Thomas passed through the group of inquisitors, leaving Jocelyn to stand helpless before them until Beth Glane dismissed her with a contemptuous glance.

Jocelyn learned the results of the council meeting later that afternoon.
William Wythers, the freckle-faced, red-haired four-year-old nephew of Edward and Wenefrid Powell, was pronounced guilty of thievery and sentenced to ten lashes with a switch. And since the boy had no father, Thomas Colman, as spiritual leader of the colony, was directed to administer the whipping.

Audrey brought the news as Jocelyn worked in the fields, and Jocelyn dropped her basket of corn kernels and ran toward the fort where the whipping was to take place.
Colony discipline wasted no time and invited no mercy, for by the time Jocelyn reached the village, the circle of assistants stood as a dark circle inside the fort, ready to administer and observe the enforcement of justice.

Jocelyn felt her heart pound as she slipped through the circle of curious colonists.
The child’s sobbing reached her ears long before she saw his tear-streaked face. His guardians, Edward and Wenefrid Powell, stood to the side, sober-faced as John White handed a limber green branch to the minister.

Thomas nodded to two assistants who picked the child up and lay him upon a rough table.
The boy’s breeches were pulled down, exposing the fair skin, and Jocelyn felt herself shudder at the sight of the boy’s terrified face.

“
Obey them that have the rule over you, and submit yourselves: for they watch for your soul, as they that must give account, that they may do it with joy, and not with grief: for that is unprofitable for you,” Thomas quoted, his stentorian voice echoing in the stillness of the fort. The news of this first public chastisement had travelled rapidly; mothers and fathers widened the circle and pushed their children to the fore to witness the example another child would set. “You, William Wythers, have stolen from the common storehouse, a grievous offense. We will discipline you today, and spare your soul for tomorrow.”

Thomas paused and seem to search through the crowd until his eyes met Jocelyn
’s.
Spare him, be gentle
, she begged silently, knowing that her countenance revealed the revulsion she felt toward this harsh act. Surely he could voice his opinion that ten lashes were too much for a small, hungry boy . . .

“
Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying,” Thomas said abruptly, denying her unspoken plea. His arm rose and fell sharply, William Wythers screamed, the crowd emitted a collective gasp. Jocelyn clenched her fists and hurried away from the unbearable sight and sound.

The elder George Howe grimaced with each blow, thankful that, thus far, his son had brought him no reason for shame.
When the whipping was done, the gathering dispersed and the Powells took their nephew home. “A bad business, this,” Howe said, nodding politely to the minister. “But it set a fine example to the other young ones, don’t you think?”

“
Certainly,” the minister replied, his dark eyes squinting toward the cloudless sky in the east. “‘Twill be an example to all of us. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Master Howe, I must needs meditate on some matters. I thought I’d walk down by the tidal pools.” He nodded and moved away, but Howe kept pace with the younger man.

“
Then I’ll be good company, for that’s where I’m headed,” Howe answered, hurrying to catch up. He fell easily into Thomas Colman’s long stride. “I’m set for crabbing. The governor told me of an old Indian trick—if you check the rocks along the beaches after low tide, you’ll find snails, limpets, and crabs. In the tidal pools you can find mollusks just under the sand. You only need a long stick to stir things up a bit.”

“
Mayhap we’ll have a feast tonight with your catch,” Colman answered, glancing absently toward the ring of houses as they walked along the trail that led to the beach.

“
Aye.” Howe studied his younger companion. The minister was preoccupied, but with what? Since their landing, George Howe had never felt freer. Sure, there was that disagreeable business with the Wythers boy and that reprimand given the minister in the council meeting, but no one but John Jones and Beth Glane was truly offended that the minister had been seen kissing his wife. Surely the man had not let their narrow-minded accusations upset him! Such trivial annoyances had no place in this island paradise. On Roanoke there were no orphans in the streets, no tax collectors to contend with, and no cursed ruffs around their necks, by heaven—

He remembered the minister
’s absent glance toward the houses and laughed. Of course, the man worried about his pretty new wife.

“
Excuse my lack of manners, Reverend,” Howe said, feeling a surge of fatherly affection for the minister. “But I should have inquired after your lovely wife. My son thinks the world of her, you know. How is Mistress Colman enjoying our new island home?”

“
She enjoys it well enough,” the minister answered, seeming to study the sand as they walked.

“
And her house? What did she think of her first night on the island?”

The minister stopped abruptly and placed his hands behind his back.
“My wife is well, Master Howe,” he said, an oddly distant tone in his voice.

Howe ignored the man
’s aloofness and continued walking. “I’m only asking because my son has taken quite a liking to her, his own mother being yet in England, you know. If there is ever anything I or my boy can do for you and Mistress Colman, you won’t hesitate to let me know, will you, Reverend?”

Colman had not moved.
Surprised, Howe turned and lifted a questioning brow toward the sober minister. “If you please, Master Howe,” the minister said, nodding sharply, “I am not inclined to talk with my fellow man while God calls me to talk with him.”

Howe grinned and turned away, his eyes on the tidal pools that shimmered in the distance.
Surely he had once been as transparent as the minister, worried about his new wife but hiding his concern under a cloak of proud indifference. “Go ahead, my young friend, and tell God everything you must,” he answered, not caring if the minister heard or not. “But whatever ‘tis you are running from will be waiting when you come back.”

Two miles away from the fort, George Howe knelt on the rock-rimmed bank and scanned the sand below the clear water.
Recalling John White’s instructions, he prodded the shallows with a forked stick. How, exactly, did a mollusk react when disturbed? The governor had not been explicit in his directions.

The rocks that rimmed the shallow pools bit into the soft flesh of his knees, and the shy shellfish hid in crevices accessible only from the water.
“It must needs be done, then,” Howe said, surveying the pool. He dropped his stick onto the ground and peeled off his dark leggings, his pleated trunks, and his doublet. At least he was alone, and far away from the prying eyes of any who might take offense at his state of undress.

Standing nearly naked on the bank, the elder George Howe, assistant to the Governor, and esteemed graduate of Jesus College, Cambridge, dipped his toes into the shallow water.
The warm morning sun shone bright on his pale skin, and George caught sight of his reflection in the still pool. Well, then, he had shed his dignity as well as his clothes. He felt himself laughing, and in a breathless instant of release he kicked the warm water into a towering flume. Small fish scattered at the approach of the strange pale interloper, and George forgot his mission and his propriety and splashed in the water with feckless abandon.

The water trickled gloriously down his head and arms, over his back, cooling his legs and feet.
His rough skin, tormented by lice and other vermin while aboard ship, tingled beneath the cleansing droplets of water. Howe danced himself breathless, then sank in the pool and reclined upon his elbows as the water surrounded and invigorated him.

Too late, he heard the rustle of leaves.
Too late, he saw shadows fall over the pool. He turned, expecting to find the accusing eyes Beth Glane or John Jones behind him, but what he saw made his blood run cold with terror. A half-circle of savages stood on the bank, their faces painted red and their bows held high. The sharpened stone tips of their arrows glinted in the late afternoon sun, and George tried his best to smile.

“
I am a friend,” he said, his voice quivering despite his intention to remain steadfast. He rose , trembling, and held out his empty hands.

The most heavily painted savage gave a war cry and George heard himself screaming as the arrows flew, then he
fell face first into the cleansing waters of Roanoke.

Eighteen

M
iss Jocelyn?” Jocelyn put aside the dark thoughts that had occupied her mind since the public whipping and listened again for the soft call as someone knocked. She smiled as she answered the door. Outside her family, only young George Howe called her by her Christian name.

“
Yes, George?”

“
I wondered if you’ve seen my papa. He left to go crabbing hours ago and promised he’d be back by supper.”

“
No, George, I haven’t seen him.” Jocelyn looked out into the clearing where many of the colonists bustled around in preparation for the late afternoon meal. “Have you asked everyone?”

George nodded.
“I checked the fields, the armory, the place where they’re setting up the brick-making house. The governor, ma’am, told me he saw your husband and my father walking together this afternoon.”

“
Well, then,” Jocelyn said, putting down her mending and taking the boy’s hand. “Let us find my husband and see if mayhap he has hidden your father.”

Jocelyn had reasons of her own for wanting to find Thomas, for she had not seen him since that awful scene in the fort.
She wanted to know what the council had said to him and if he had truly thought it necessary to punish a four-year-old boy so severely. She wanted desperately to talk to him,

to plumb the meaning of his odd questions, to open her heart and honestly reveal all she felt for him.
But she had the feeling he would not seek her out, so young George had provided the perfect opportunity. She’d find Thomas, send George to his father, and if God was willing, she’d have another chance to speak alone with her husband.

She saw Thomas before George did, and her heart leapt at the sight of him.
He stood alone on a sandy stretch of beach, a shovel in his hand, with the sea behind him and the wind ruffling his dark hair. He had put his dark doublet over his work shirt but left it unbuttoned and that, Jocelyn thought, made him look less like a minister and more like a gentleman pirate.

“
Reverend Colman!” George sprinted away from her and raced ahead as Jocelyn smoothed her expression and her untidy hair.

Thomas was standing above one of the barrels that the colonists buried in the sand to collect water.
Underneath the barrier islands lay pockets of fresh water, the accumulation of many years of rainfall. By digging in the sandy hills, casks of fresh water were easily filled.

Thomas rested upon his shovel while he answered George
’s questions, then paused to wipe perspiration from his face and neck as Jocelyn approached.

George whirled and grabbed Jocelyn
’s hand. “The minister says Papa went to the tidal basins to catch crabs. Come with me, Miss Jocelyn.”

“
You are a big boy, George, you can go alone,” Jocelyn said, her eyes locked on Thomas’ face. George hesitated for a moment, then took off running toward the shallow tidal pools that lay south of the fort.

Thomas watched the boy go with a measure of sadness in his eyes, and Jocelyn felt her heart sink. Did George remind him of the son he had left behind in England? Or mayhap the boy reminded him of this morning’s terrible scene with William Wythers.

“
Is there anything that you need?” she asked, twisting her hands even as her heart twisted before the sorrow in his eyes. He looked at her then, and his expression adjusted as his emotions hid themselves from her prying gaze. “No,” he said, his voice oddly gentle. “I thank you for asking.”