“She is learning the English tongue and English ways,” Xander told him. “Just as the son of Ustis Hopewell is thriving, so, too, is Watseka.”
They spoke at length between long pauses of pondering and reflection. Tobacco curled from their shared pipe, the aromatic yet somewhat harsher blend of the Naturals that most English disdained. Xander gave a favorable report of the children living among the English and listened as the chief spoke of the children in the Powhatans’ care.
“When will you depart?” The chief’s penetrating gaze made Xander reconsider his leave-taking on the morrow.
“Once I meet with the English in your care and give them tokens and such from their families.”
The chief eyed him unflinchingly with a look Xander knew too well. Something was afoot. His suspicion was confirmed by Opechancanough’s next words.
“My grandson has been separated from his mother’s people for many seasons. It is time to reacquaint him with our ways. I ask that you leave him here till the moon of white frost.”
Late fall. November.
Xander passed Opechancanough the pipe. Dismay cut a wide swath through him. What could he say to this? Denying the chief so heartfelt a request would be taken as a grave offense. Oceanus was his grandson. True, he had many. But no others from his favored daughter. Nor did the lad have other surviving grandparents.
No doubt Oceanus would thrive much like Shay if left in the Naturals’ care for a few months more. What could it hurt? The small qualm he felt was a selfish one, given the boy was all he had of Mattachanna. That, he would miss.
His delayed response seemed to surprise the chief. Trying to quell the last shred of resistance inside him, Xander stared unseeing through the smoke at an array of fine beaver pelts dangling from a support pole.
Opechancanough’s eyes narrowed. “Would a few furs make the separation more agreeable?”
“I would simply ask that Oceanus be told and consent to the plan. He is young and has withstood many changes of late. He still mourns his mother.”
The chief gave a nod of assent, and Oceanus was sent for. He entered the council house with his usual reserve, thoughXander had heard him happily shouting and playing with other children moments before. Now, facing his grandfather, he darted a glance at Xander as if to ascertain what was about to happen.
Xander put a hand on his shoulder. “Your grandfather would like for you to have a visit with him while I return to Rose-n-Vale.”
Oceanus fell silent for several strained seconds. “May I have a bow and arrow like Shay?”
The question seemed to please Opechancanough, who agreed.
Bolstered by his approval, Oceanus addressed him personally. “Can I learn to hunt and swim, Grandfather?”
Opechancanough again agreed. “You will have a Powhatan name as well, in time.”
At that, Oceanus went out to resume his play. All the levity vanished with him.
Opechancanough’s eyes glinted hard as flint. “Tell me about the white chief Harvey. Is it true that he has erected a palisade between the great rivers across leagues of land not his own?”
Was her very life’s blood flowing out of her? Would it spell her demise? Selah shook so hard her teeth hurt, her head dangerously aswim. Even as her mother’s voice broke through the darkness, she couldn’t grasp hold of her meaning. Vaguely she was aware of being carried inside and someone shouting for rags.
Where was Father?
When she next opened her eyes, it was light of day. Murmuringebbed and flowed around her like the tides around James Towne. Not Xander. Not Father. Other masculine utterances she had trouble deciphering.
Rose-n-Vale’s factor, McCaskey?
Nay, the sheriff.
“Tell me what happened with as much detail as you recall.”
Her mother’s voice, broken and disbelieving, hurt her ears. Selah breathed in the shocking scent of hartshorn as it passed beneath her nose. The dark shadow taking slow shape before her was equally abhorrent.
Laurent. Posing as the physic she was desperately in need of.
“You’ve suffered a great loss of blood.” His voice was low as his fingers probed her torn flesh. When he neared her stinging wound, she all but hissed at him.
“Becalm yourself or I shall administer valerian, which you well know is vile to the taste if soothing to the mind.”
