The hunter carried on speaking, acting out the action of his story as he described it.
‘These two men appeared unarmed,’ Manteo said. ‘But they had weapons concealed under their cloaks. The rest of their warriors were hiding in the woods. Two Englishmen came out to speak, and the Secotans looked as if they wished to embrace.’ The hunter held out his arms. ‘But when the first soldier was received then Wanchese drew his sword and smote him a death blow to the head.’ The hunter whipped out his arm and slashed it down and next clutched the back of his head and dropped heavily to the ground. ‘As soon as the first Englishman was struck then all the Secotans rushed out in ambush. The soldier left standing fled back to the fort, and those at the fort ran into the strong-house where all the weapons and food were stored, but the Secotans set this place ablaze, and the soldiers were forced to abandon the fort taking only what they held in their hands.’
The hunter enacted an intense sequence of running and firing, miming the shooting of bows and the loading of muskets, the ferocity of the fire, which must have been fuelled by the gunpowder in store, and the panic of escape in total disorder. Throughout it all, the bird-man cavorted in a manic frenzy.
Stafford leant over to Kit and spoke under his breath. ‘Well, at least that clears up another mystery – it accounts for the fire damage to the strong-house.’
‘Yes,’ Kit murmured. ‘What we’ve found is beginning to make more sense.’
Manteo turned back to the hunter as he described the battle that followed.
‘The fight went on: first this way, then that. One of the Englishmen died after being struck in the mouth by an arrow. A flaming wildfire bolt killed one of the Secotans. Many were wounded, but the English were hurt most. The Secotans could hide behind the trees and shoot with their bows, but the English could not hit back with their muskets. Their power was fading. Their …
mantóac
left them.’
‘
Mant
ó
ac
?’ Stafford eyed Manteo keenly. ‘What is that?’
‘It is that which is beyond man,’ Manteo tried to explain, his hands moving erratically. ‘It is the wisdom of the gods.’
The bird-man generated another cloud of white smoke, and the hunter crouched low and mock-fired a bow and arrow, then he fell down writhing and clutched at his thigh as if impaled. He ended his account on his knees, clawing at his ribs. Manteo made it intelligible in English.
‘The white men left alive ran down behind the fort to the little creek where they kept their boat. They rowed away, though many were injured. They stopped for four others who had been collecting
oysters along the shore, then they all fled to a tiny island near the passage by which your ships now wait. A few days later they left.’ Manteo slowed and looked hard at Nootau; then he spoke to Stafford. ‘Nootau does not know where the Englishmen went.’
The hunter drew himself up and waited, chest heaving.
Alsoomse gestured for him to return to his place.
She regarded Stafford sympathetically then bent to confer with her priests and elders. Afterwards she signed for the bird-man to bring the pipe. She spoke after puffing on it and offering the pipe to Stafford.
Manteo stepped forward again.
‘My mother says we would have helped your kinsmen if they had come to us. But they did not come. We do not know where these men are now. No one has heard anything of them since.’
‘I see.’ Stafford turned to Dare, Harvie and the rest of the company. His gaze took in everyone, Emme included.
‘We only have two choices,’ he said. ‘Either we attack the Secotans now on the basis of what we’ve just heard, or we offer them the hand of peace and hope to move forwards in amity.’
‘No!’ Harvie blurted out. ‘You cannot forgive what they’ve done and forget about it as if it never happened.’
Stafford continued with what he had to say. ‘We cannot both talk with the Secotans and expect justice for Howe’s death, or the attack on Coffin and his men. The Secotans will never hand over Wanchese for execution. Either we subjugate them in conflict, or we draw a line under past wrongs in order to live with them in peace – if they will accept a peaceful co-existence.’
‘Never!’ Dare spat, red faced, eyes flaming. ‘What peace can be founded on such villainy?’
Kit turned to him. ‘A peace that offers some hope for our colony. It is not a question of what is right, but what is possible.’ He held Dare’s eye but kept his voice low. ‘This is a colony of men, women and children: ordinary people of all kinds. We are not all soldiers. To attack must be a last resort; it may well plunge our city into war – a war we may well lose because the Secotans outnumber us.’
Emme nodded and looked at Stafford. ‘We should at least allow the Secotans the chance of living with us in peace. We should talk to them. I believe that this is the course that Governor White would advise. I am sure he would not wish to see any Indians killed unless there was no alternative.’
Stafford wiped his brow.
‘Since the Governor is not here I must decide.’ He looked everyone in the eye, one by one. ‘If we attack precipitously then the way of peace will be closed to us for certain, so let us try for peace now and if that fails then let us reconsider.’ He squeezed Harvie’s shoulder. ‘We will have justice in the fullness of time.’ Then he patted Dare’s shoulder as well, though Dare shrugged him away. ‘We will have honour too.’
He stood and addressed the lady Alsoomse. ‘Can you deliver a message to the leaders of all the villages in this region, in particular the
weroances
of Secotan and Dasemonkepeuc?’
She inclined her head and answered through her son.
‘Yes,’ Manteo said. ‘We speak with the Secotans, though they are not our friends. We can deliver a message to the
weroances
of all the nearby villages.’
‘Good.’ Stafford sighed then stiffened and spoke decisively. ‘Please tell the
weroances
that we wish to offer our friendship. We will forgive all past wrongs against us, trusting that English men
and women may live peaceably with their neighbours in Virginia. We invite all the chiefs to Roanoke to a council to affirm this peace, and we look forward to welcoming them seven days from now, or to receiving their answers if they are unable to come. Could you send this message?’
The old lady listened to her son’s translation, bowed her head, and turned to confer with her priests and elders; then she placed her arm across her breast.
Manteo spoke for her.
‘We will do our best to send this message and to bring the
weroances
to you in seven days as you have asked, or to tell you what they say if they do not come. But we cannot speak for the Secotans.’
Alsoomse said more and Manteo added, ‘My mother says they may not answer.’
Then the old lady closed her eyes.
Emme looked at Kit, sensing that the meeting had come to an end, and, when Stafford bowed to take his leave, Emme curtseyed before the great lady and drew Kit aside to be alone with him for a moment.
They stood beside a hide-covered shelter, and the sky was a halcyon blue behind the shaggy pines and windswept oaks, but Kit’s expression was like a heavy cloud, dark and remote.
‘We have another day together,’ he said. ‘We’ll leave now, and we may draw close to Port Ferdinando by nightfall. The next morning we’ll return to the
Lion
. Then you must leave.’
‘But why must I? Why only a day?’ She smiled at him with tears in her eyes. ‘Why not a lifetime?’ she asked softly, not daring to say any more, hoping beyond hope that he would now get down on
one knee and offer his hand, and pledge to wed her if she would only take him, which of course she would with a soaring heart, and then they would never be apart in this land or any other. But all he did was stroke her cheek with the tips of his fingers.
‘You never yield, do you?’ He shook his head slowly as if he saw her as an enigma, but his look was also admiring; his eyes glistened as he beheld her. ‘You really think that there is still hope, that after everything you’ve heard about the barbarity of the Secotans – the murder of Howe and his scalping; the ambush on Coffin, and the pitiless rout of his men – you think that our City of Raleigh can survive alongside these people.’
‘Yes,’ she said quickly, taking his hand and kissing it. ‘Yes, I do, with all my heart. More now than I did before, because we have offered them peace.’
He gave a soft hollow laugh, and his look, once it was over, was even more troubled than before.
‘They will not accept our peace,’ he said. ‘Why should they when what they want is not to live with us, but to drive us from their land?’
‘You cannot know that. Once the Secotans appreciate the benefits we can bring them, and come to accept that we will do them no harm, then they will welcome us. They will grow to love us as we will love them.’
‘O, Emme.’ He put his arms around her and pressed her head to his chest, kissing her hair. ‘If only that could be true.’
‘It will be true if you believe it enough to make it happen.’
He took a deep breath and she felt it shudder through him.
‘But I cannot believe it,’ he said, and his voice cracked as he uttered the words. ‘You cannot stay here.’
She held him to her, and sank into his kiss, and did not say that she would never leave him, and that nothing he could do would make her go, because to argue would have been pointless, and anyway she could not speak for the emotions that choked her throat. He said no more either, but the taste of tears was in his bittersweet kiss, and the pain of loss was in the tightness of his hold.
*
Captain Stafford had Master Ferdinando with him. Emme caught sight of Ferdinando’s slick black curls under his gaudy cap and the crimson doublet he liked to wear. The Pilot jumped down into the bows of the pinnace and moved to the foremast where he waited, one arm raised to lean casually against it. His Quartermaster and a line of burly crewmen stood, arms akimbo, looking down from the
Lion
to which the pinnace was moored up abreast. Stafford alone advanced towards the stern, climbing over the crowded rowing benches to reach the place where Emme sat with Kit in front of Manteo and Towaye. Kit shuffled over to make room, and Stafford sat next to him with Emme on his other side. The Captain spoke quietly to her.
‘Master Ferdinando is now ready to sail back to England and bids that you accompany him. I too will return and can assure you safe passage. There is far more risk to you in staying here in Virginia. I am about to go to Roanoke to deliver my report on the Croatans. I shall inform the Governor that you are on the
Lion
in readiness for the voyage back to England. There is no point in your returning to Roanoke only to have to leave immediately. You should stay here, out of danger. I gather from Master Ferdinando that Sir Walter Raleigh has charged him with your safe return to London. My advice to you is to board the
Lion
now without any fuss. The
rest of the Planters have no such dispensation, as you know; they must stay here.’
Emme bowed her head.
‘Thank you Captain Stafford, but I have already decided not to leave our colony. I shall return to Roanoke and nothing will make me change my mind.’
‘Very well.’ Stafford gave a resigned nod and looked from her to Kit. ‘You are sure of this.’
‘Yes.’
Kit interrupted, addressing Stafford directly. ‘She will go.’
He leaned forwards in front of Stafford and whispered to Emme with urgent entreaty. ‘You must go. I beg you, Emme, do not make this any more difficult for both of us. For the sake of the esteem in which I hold you, please go: live and enjoy a full and happy life in England. I will always …’
‘What’s the delay, Stafford?’ Ferdinando’s strident voice stopped Kit short.
Emme looked round to see Ferdinando working his way closer. Stafford got to his feet and stepped aside as Ferdinando waved him away. Ferdinando took his place and put out a hand to keep Emme where she was. He gave her a supercilious smile though he also appeared irritated. With his other hand he drummed on his knee.
‘Quite the Amazon, I see.’ His tone was mocking as he scrutinised her apparel.
She held her tongue. She was aware of Kit on Ferdinando’s other side, hands on his knees, head bowed. Though he faced forwards, his gaze was fixed on the Pilot. She could see his eyes burning from under his lowered brows, stare narrowing out of the corner
of his eye. But Ferdinando seemed not to notice; he ignored Kit completely.
‘The
Lion
awaits you, Mistress Murimuth.’ Ferdinando made an airy gesture towards the ship. He shifted nearer when she made no sign of getting up. ‘I gather from Captain Stafford that you have expressed some reluctance to leave the Planters. Have no qualms about your preferment. I am sure you will prove yourself worthy of deliverance once you are safely back in England.’
She turned away from him and looked back to the white dunes of Hatarask and the channel leading to Roanoke.
‘Spare your breath, Master Ferdinando. I am not leaving. I have decided to remain in Virginia.’
She heard something else above the sigh of the waves, the drum of rigging and the grinding of the ships’ strakes: a sharp intake of breath. Perhaps the sound came from Kit though she could not see him.
Ferdinando put his arm behind her, not actually around her but close to that. She was wedged between him and the side of the pinnace, facing the sea and long shoreline. She twisted away from him.
He rubbed his leg against hers in a way that made her feel sick. She squirmed to escape contact with him, but he bent over in front of her. As he smiled, his lip curled.
‘Your leaving is not a matter of choice for you, Mistress Murimuth, so please reconsider. The only choice you have is whether to leave with dignity or under restraint. I will not hesitate to carry you away forcibly if need be.’
His eyes flicked to the Quartermaster and his mariners lined up on the
Lion
. Some of them were stripped to the waist. They all seemed to be leering at her.
She chanced a glance at Kit and saw that his face had darkened, though he remained perfectly still. She turned back towards Hatarask with a sinking heart. No one was standing up for her, but she would never leave willingly. She kept silent.