‘The bag is hanging on a nail by the logs under the eaves. It was getting wet where you’d left it by the path.’
‘Gramercy, Mistress Emme.’ He looked up at her and grinned, wrinkling his nose at the bundle she carried.
‘You won’t be leaving us, will you?’
‘No, Georgie.’
She made an effort to put the boy at ease. He was still coming to terms with the loss of his father, and most of the time his insecurity kept him close to her. He slept on a pallet by the Dares’ hearth, and in the day he would often come for titbits from Emme’s cauldron, or to see if she had anything for him like the marbles she had baked from balls of rippled red clay. To most of the Planters he seemed like a well-settled boy, happy and full of mischief, but she understood his needs, remembering what it was like to lose a mother, never mind a father as well. So when the storm had raged at its height two nights ago, she’d let him pull his pallet beside hers, and when the
Lion
had been swept out to sea, she’d tried to comfort him with her
own inner confidence. The
Lion
would return, she told him, and the Quartermaster, whom Georgie hated, and all the other stranded mariners, would leave for England, along with the Governor or one of the Assistants, and then soldiers would come to make sure everyone was safe, and they would carry muskets and be almost as brave as Master Kit, and, no, she would not go back with the sailors on the ship.
‘If anyone tells you differently they are wrong,’ she said to him. ‘This is my home now.’
But she’d not said that to Kit.
She ruffled Georgie’s hair and watched him scampering to the cottage, then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement within the palisade. Men were emerging from the strong-house where most of their meetings were held. She saw them milling about in huddled groups, just as she’d often seen them before after recent assemblies. There was Kit standing with Ananias Dare and Dyonis Harvie, heads together, talking earnestly. Kit glanced across at her and the flash of affinity sparked between them, then he turned aside as Harvie spoke.
She walked closer, rocking the baby in her arms. When Manteo passed through the gateway she moved forwards casually and showed him the sleeping baby.
‘Have they reached a decision?’ she asked quietly.
Manteo gave her a wry smile.
‘Master Cooper has changed his mind and said to the Governor he will not go to England. Again the Governor has been asked to sail back. He alone can do this, the Assistants have told him. He must alert Sir Walter Raleigh because the city needs help. He must ensure that relief is sent here and not to Chesapeake.’
‘He has agreed?’
Manteo shook his head. ‘He is thinking about it. Always he is thinking.’ He shrugged apologetically and strode on.
Emme glanced back and noticed Master Cooper deep in conversation with several others. She counted all seven Assistants close to the walls of the strong-house, sheltering from the wind, and several other men besides who must have been involved in the debate. Only the Governor seemed to have been left inside, and doubtless he was deliberating over what to do next. The colony was in crisis, and again White was dithering. He should have been overseeing the strengthening of the defences instead of getting mired in interminable discussions about who should summon help. Kit had told her what he had learnt about the atrocities committed under Lane’s stewardship. The violence had shocked her, but she was not so horrified that she was prepared to abandon those who’d come to depend on her help, particularly Georgie and the baby.
She held the baby to her shoulder and rubbed her tiny back while she walked, mulling everything over. She could never hope now for a future with Kit, not since it was obvious that she’d never mean as much to him as the Cimaroon woman who’d been as good as his wife. She and Kit were unmatched in every way. How she’d ever supposed they might be married she did not know. It would never happen. She could say that to herself and be sure of it for a while, begin to make plans for a future without him but near enough to see him settled and follow him through the advance of years. She could reconcile herself to never being wed, never bearing his children, never sharing his bed. But then grief consumed her: an overwhelming ache for all the promise she had lost, for the man who could never be replaced, the one who had touched her
body and soul, the only one with the power to release her from her shadow of guilt.
Burying her face in the baby’s blanket, she gave a small stifled sob, then she looked up and straightened her back. She would stay in Virginia and see the endeavour through, to the next generation and beyond if she could. Kit might have supposed she’d be persuaded to leave by convincing her that she’d be doomed if she insisted on remaining, but if so he’d failed. Governor White would be able to petition Raleigh just as well as she could, and here she could be useful. The colony was her life now. Despite its blighted start, the blunted hope and endless toil, the settlers’ bold dream was hers: of building a better country in this raw new land. Having come so far, she wasn’t about to give up. She would remain at Roanoke, not as one with Kit, but near him. He must accept that this would be so.
Let him think she was ready to go. She hadn’t protested against Kit’s plans for her, but neither had she promised to do what he wished. That had bought her more time; it had kept her in Kit’s confidence and allowed her to act freely. Kit had been reluctant to tell the rest of the colonists about the horrors of the past for fear it would weaken them and destroy their morale. She had agreed with that. What good would it do to give them reason to expect disaster? He had tried to alert the Governor but he’d seemed reluctant to believe the worst. He was a man blinded by his own vision, far more concerned with the minutiae of observation than with recognising evil in the wider picture. She and Kit would keep the knowledge to themselves, along with Lacy, Wright and Manteo who already knew what had happened.
She walked calmly back to the Dares’ cottage, and settled little
Virginia back with her mother since it was time for her next feed, then she filled a ewer with water, pulled her shawl over her head, and crossed back to the fort. When she entered the strong-house, she found what she’d hoped; the Governor was alone.
John White had his head in his hands and a mass of papers strewn around him over the table by which he sat. A candle stump stood on a saucer in a congealed mound of wax. A board-backed clasped Bible lay near an inkhorn and quills, while indentures and other documents were strewn around the Governor’s elbows. His hair sprang in tufts between his long knobbly fingers, and his brow was a mass of furrows. She picked up some discarded pewter: an empty cup and a plate that bore the remains of a meal, around which a fly buzzed in circles. The only light in the room came from around ill-fitting shutters that rattled with each gust of wind. The Governor sat in shadow, unmoving in the sultry heat.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ she asked gently. ‘Some water, perhaps?’
‘Water. Yes.’ He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Thank you.’
She filled the cup from the ewer and brought it to his hands, making sure that he took hold of it before she began tidying around him.
‘Have you now decided to return?’ She asked the question blithely while getting the table top into a semblance of order. ‘Our city needs a champion back in London who will bring aid from Sir Walter. I hope that will be you.’
White heaved a fretful sigh.
‘Our city also needs a Governor here in Virginia, and I would be failing in my responsibilities if I left the Planters now.’
‘You would not be failing them, if I may be allowed to say so, sir; you would be answering their prayers. No one carries more influence with Sir Walter than you do in this enterprise. If you took our plea to England this would be the greatest service you could give us, so I believe, Master White.’
He waved his hand dismissively.
‘But I cannot leave my daughter and granddaughter here while I return to safety – and with you as well. That would render Eleanor quite bereft. She needs support.’
‘She has her husband,’ Emme countered lightly.
‘Ananias is a bold man, but not accustomed to caring, and, without anyone else to help her, my Eleanor will be more dependent on me than ever.’
The evidence of this caring was not something that Emme had noticed in any practical way, but she supposed that Mistress Eleanor must have found her father’s presence comforting. She did not dispute the point. She inclined her head meekly.
‘I could always remain and look after her,’ she said. ‘Please hear me on this, sir.’ She continued quickly as White groaned. ‘I know that Sir Walter has asked for my return; probably he wished to hear an account of life in his city from a woman he knew and trusted. But, if I remained here, wouldn’t that give him yet more inducement to send help? I would gladly go back with the relief ships that I am sure Sir Walter will send. By staying in the meantime I could be doubly useful. I could help Mistress Eleanor as dry nurse to little Virginia, and I could help give another incentive to Sir Walter to come to our aid. I am certain he would not object to my being here a few months longer, considering the unforeseen circumstances we have encountered about which you could enlighten him. You could
ensure that Sir Walter and the Queen heard only the truth about what has happened.’
‘Ah, yes, the truth.’ White bent his head lower and raked his fingers through his hair, sighing again before raising his eyes with a look of torment.
‘There is no doubt that if the reporting is left to others it might be open to misinterpretation. I have found this before, not least after Governor Lane’s return.’
‘Indeed,’ she remarked with an encouraging smile. ‘You are the patriarch of this enterprise, trusted by Master Harriot and others of influence who have ventured here before. Sir Walter will heed you. The fate of this city is in your hands. You could take news of our plight to London and the highest in the land. You may justly say that the pride and honour of England now rests with this city’s continuance.’
‘Yes, verily …’ White looked hard at her. ‘Well spoken for a maid.’
She busied herself with more tidying. ‘I say only what I have heard from others.’
White cleared his throat.
‘Well, I could account faithfully and put the case for relief. Yet …’ He picked up a quill and rolled it back and forth between thumb and forefinger. ‘No, I cannot. What will people think if I go back? They will point at me and say: “There is John White who persuaded good English folk to leave everything for a new life in Virginia and then forsook them in their hour of need.” They will say I never meant to stay here.’
‘I am sure they would not say that, for you are manifestly a selfless and virtuous man, and it would be clear to everyone from the reports that you left for the common good, not only your report but Master Ferdinando’s also …’
‘That swine. I don’t know …’ White shook his head.
Perhaps mention of Ferdinando had been a mistake. Emme racked her brains for something that would sway the Governor: something to protect his reputation since that was plainly his chief concern.
‘What if all the Assistants swore to a document that you could take back to England stating that it was their desire, not yours, that you should return to seek help. They have begged you to plead for Sir Walter’s assistance, have they not?’
White threw up his hands.
‘They have most certainly. Their importuning knows no bounds. I have tried to encourage others to go in my stead but no one will do it. If I had some proof of this with which to silence any mischief-makers who might seek to malign me, then possibly …’
‘Yes?’ she murmured hopefully. The Assistants had lost faith in him but he could not see it, and nothing would be gained by pointing that out. How to convince him that leaving was the right thing to do? She put the quills in a neat pile under a shell.
White’s eyes rolled up to her above dark pouches as heavy as a bloodhound’s.
‘But what of my possessions?’ He winced as if the thought had nipped him. ‘What of my furniture and instruments and chests of books and charts? Some of my finest work is in my chests. It is too late now to carry them to the ships. The
Lion
has been caught up in this cursed storm, and the flyboat is already fully loaded and in position behind the bar. The ships only wait for the mariners who’ve been left here by mischance, and for whoever is going to take our report to Raleigh. And for you,’ he added pointedly.
She opened her mouth but held back, resisting the urge to
observe that much trouble could have been spared if he’d had the chests moved before.
He pulled out one of the quills and began stripping the remains of feather-down from its shaft. ‘When the storm eases enough for the
Lion
to come close to shore, and we hear that the ships are ready to embark, then the pinnace will take the mariners and passengers across, no more. There’ll be no room for baggage.’
She tried to soothe him, wondering what she could say that would impress him with a sense of urgency. They could be attacked at any moment by the Secotans, yet he was fussing about his chests. The sooner he was gone, the sooner help could be sent. He could leave now in the flyboat. Why even wait for the
Lion
?
‘Your possessions will be safe, sir. I am sure you can trust us all to take care of them. Your daughter and I will see to that. I treasure your work as much as anyone.’
‘But if you leave Roanoke, what then? My chests are heavy and would be difficult to transport if the relocation is up rivers that only small boats can navigate. If the Assistants decide to head for Chesapeake, as we originally planned, what would happen to my things then? How would I know where you were?’
Emme hid an inclination to roll her eyes and bang something down. How many more excuses could the Governor come up with? Increasingly she felt that this is what his arguments amounted to. White wanted to return to give a good account of his actions, but she also sensed his fear of failure; he couldn’t bear to reach a decision.