Jamestown (The Keepers of the Ring) (38 page)

“
Ocanahonan was a cursed place.” She spat the accusation toward him. “The priests say that town was destroyed by an act of the gods.”

“
Nay,” Fallon persisted, his hands tightening upon her arms. “‘Twas a beautiful, civilized city and mayhap it is the only place in the world where you and I will feel at home.”

Home
. A stab of hope pierced her heart at the word, and a sob escaped her. While with the Indians, she had crept every night into any hut whose inhabitants were willing to give her rest. At Jamestown she had stayed with Edith Rolfe only because Pocahontas had been welcomed there. She had never known a place where she was welcomed because
she
belonged there, and in the privacy of her heart she had never dared to dream that such a place could exist.

In a silent plea for understanding, she lifted her hands toward his shoulders, afraid to touch him, but he opened his arms to her.
For a long moment she leaned against his sinewy length for support, then a warm wave of breath in her ear brought her back to reality. “You see,” he whispered, “somewhere inside, you do remember.”

She pulled away, thumbing tears away from her eyes.
“You misread my weakness,” she said, struggling to regain her dignity, “and my intention. Though you may have known me as a child—” she paused, the desire to stay at his side and fill in the gaps of her life warring with the urge to cast him off, “you do not know me now. I will see you safely to Jamestown, then I will return to my village and obey my chief’s wishes.”

“
You’d marry a godless heathen?” The firelight magnified his horrified expression of disapproval. “You’d give your strength and beauty to one who does not deserve you—”

“
Askook was clever and strong enough to capture you, wasn’t he?” ‘Twas a throwaway accusation, but she’d hit home, for he snapped his mouth shut and left her by the fire without another word.

With growing delight, Brody watched as Kimi and Fallon continued to spar with each other throughout the next day.
On the remaining journey back to Jamestown they had little to say to one another save cutting remarks. When Fallon lost his footing on the slippery river trail and tumbled into the water, Kimi openly questioned why she had bothered to save such a hapless fool. Then she asked the ministers if they would think her a terrible sinner if she sold Fallon into slavery once they reached the fort.

The ministers laughed, albeit weakly, and for a moment Brody wondered if she expected some sort of payment for saving their lives.
But as soon as Fallon pulled himself from the river she marched ahead without glancing back. Fallon did not answer her or offer an excuse, but his face flushed red and blotchy with anger as he followed her along the river trail.

Brody thought the girl
—Gilda, Kimi, whatever she wanted to call herself—an absolute marvel. She was fluent in the English tongue as well as the Indian, knowledgeable and steady in the wilderness, and terribly clever about finding food, water, and shelter. She could probably earn a bountiful living as a scout or guide, if she wanted to consider such a thing, but how much more pleasant ‘twould be if she would accompany him as a wife!

Brody marveled that she had not married.
She was yet young, probably not more than sixteen, yet her figure had ripened to a slim womanly fullness, and her face shone like gold in the flickering light of their campfire. He had fallen asleep these past nights studying that face, with its long, slender nose, high cheekbones, and lips like a thread of scarlet. And those eyes! They were bottomless pools of blue that seemed to look through rather than at him.

A heaven-sent walking miracle, she was, and if Fallon couldn
’t see the girl’s worth, he would marry her himself. Together they would find the mythic waterfalls where melon-sized gold nuggets waited in pools of sparkling water.

They crept into Jamestown like defeated, weary refugees, and a crowd of soldiers and planters at the docks greeted Fallon and his companions with jeers and catcalls.
“Welladay, what’s this?” one trader called as they walked up the riverbank toward the fort. “Where are your bags of gold, my friends?”

“
Hey schoolmaster,” another man shouted. “‘Twould appear the savages have given you a few lessons.”

The back of Fallon
’s neck burned with humiliation, but he imagined that Brody felt worse than he did. Their plans to conquer Virginia had doubled back and slapped them in the face.

The ministers accepted the mocking comments with good grace, though Fallon suspected that they would blame their indignity on the two ignorant newcomers who had arranged the ill-fated trip into the wilderness.
Only Gilda seemed unfazed by the mocking crowd. She carried herself with vigor and grace past the fort and the inn.

The ministers and Brody went inside the inn, but Fallon paused on the threshold.
“Gilda! Where will you go?”

“
I am Kimi,” she casually corrected him, tossing the words casually over her shoulder. “And I have a place.” She walked on, seemingly oblivious to the admiring glances of the men she passed. Fallon shook his head. He’d never known a woman with such an independent spirit, but in his lifetime he’d not known many women.

A short, squat man with a red and bulbous nose staggered out of the inn with a tankard of beer.
He looked around, then gave Fallon a leery wink as he jerked his thumb toward Gilda’s retreating form. “I know that one. She stayed at John Rolfe’s house while he was married to that Indian woman.”

“
She wouldn’t go there now,” Fallon said, thinking aloud. “Master Rolfe lives at Henrico—”

The man guffawed.
“John Rolfe lives mostly in his tobacco fields these days. His house is kept by his sister, a sour-faced witch who keeps a loaded musket handy lest a man come within twenty yards of the place.”

Fallon
’s goodwill returned in a rush, and he extended his hand to the man. “Excuse me, sir. Fallon Bailie, I am, and pleased to make your acquaintance. Mayhap we have met before, for you look familiar—”

“
Tobias Harden,” the man interrupted, extending a grubby paw. “Likewise.” He burped slowly, gave Fallon a bleary smile, and patted his chest. “What brings you to these parts, young Master Bailie? If you don’t mind my sayin’ so, you look like you’ve been on the receivin’ end of a whole lot of trouble.”

Fallon glanced down at his dirty, torn clothes and managed a shamefaced grin.
“Aye, so I do. My friends and I have just returned from the river—”

“
Are you a tobacco planter?” Harden’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Fallon
shook his head. “I’m a schoolmaster—”

Harden nearly choked on his beer.
“Ha, ha, ha,” he roared, slapping his leg as yellow foam dribbled down his chin. “That’s a good joke. There isn’t any school here, Master Bailie, so ‘tis the devil’s truth y’are trying to sell me!”

Fallon shook his head again.
“Nay, you misunderstand. I was commissioned to bring a crew of students here to work in indentured service for a term—”

The grin evaporated from Harden
’s face. “So y’are the one!” he bellowed, staggering backward. “Brought me a load of worthless flesh, you did! And I paid good tobacco for the bag o’ bones you gave me, and I’ve got naught good out o’ him!”

“
I don’t know what you mean,” Fallon began, but Harden held up a thick finger and stomped to the side of the building. In a moment he returned, dragging a pale scarecrow forward. “This!” Harden roared, dropping a small form at Fallon’s feet.

Stick-thin arms protruded from a torn and muddied shirt
with unmistakable boot prints impressed upon the fabric. Fallon caught glimpses of a bruised face under the matted hair, and a soft moan passed through the urchin’s lips as Harden spat on the pitiful bundle on the ground.

The small face tilted upward as the head rolled back, revealing the countenance in its entirety, and Fallon gasped as though he had been punched in the stomach. The scarecrow at his feet was Wart Clarence.

Thirty-one

W
art?” Fallon fell to his knees and pushed the mass of tangled hair from Wart’s blackened eyes. The boy moaned again and clutched his stomach. Fallon felt a cold sweat break out upon his face, and he shivered through fleeting nausea. He had never seen a boy so badly beaten, and Wart had been sick when they landed. He had dreamed of a family and found a monster.

“
What have you done to this boy!” Fallon roared, standing. His fists clenched at his side. He had never hit another man in his life, but if ever there was an appropriate occasion to pummel a scoundrel, of certain this was one . . .

Harden
’s eyes squinted at the challenge in Fallon’s words. With an easy motion he tossed his mug of beer away and hunched forward, rolling up his sleeves as he glared at Fallon. “Are you of a mind to be telling me what to do with me own property?” he shouted, moving sideways into the clearing past the boy’s broken body. “I paid for that boy, and haven’t gotten a lick o’ work out of him.”

“
He was sick!” Fallon yelled back. His arms wriggled out of his doublet as if they had a mind of their own. He flung his coat aside and crouched low in imitation of the other man.

The crowd inside the inn sensed the electric charge in the atmosphere and spilled out to watch the confrontation, shouting encouragement as they came.
Fallon stole a quick glance and saw that Brody and one of the ministers knelt over Wart’s bruised body. Brody’s eyes lifted from the boy and caught Fallon’s, then he nodded grimly.

A strange, cold excitement filled Fallon
’s head as he stared at his adversary. Harden’s lips twisted slightly, then he lowered his shoulder and charged.

Fallon
’s weight was no match for the brute strength of the older man, and he went crashing back into a pile of wet canvas. The crowd roared, and Harden whirled around to acknowledge their praise. Fallon struggled to his feet, his blood rising in a jet. He was down, but not out, for Wart’s motionless form still lay like a pile of rags in the dirt. Enraged, Fallon lunged toward his opponent, who turned in the instant before impact and jammed his fist squarely into the pit of Fallon’s stomach.

Fallon doubled over, unable to breathe.
Harden backed away, brushing his hands together in a taunting gesture, then he squinted again and rushed forward, landing a knife-edged hand strike to the back of Fallon’s neck. Colors exploded in Fallon’s brain as he fell face first to the dusty ground, then through the din he heard Brody’s strong voice: “Think you that I should join in, Fallon?”

“
Yea,” Fallon croaked into the dust. He heard Brody roar and the crowd shouted in approval as the fight continued with another contender.

Fallon closed his eyes in thankfulness as he struggled to catch his breath.
When he was finally able to lift himself from the ground, he saw that Brody had Harden in a rear hug hold and was lifting the man up and down as if he could pound him into the ground. With his bloodlust still at a fever pitch, Fallon stumbled forward and drew back his clenched fist. “This is for the boy,” he said, flecks of mingled salvia and blood spattering from his mouth to Harden’s purpling face.

He smashed his fist into the man
’s jaw and felt the bones give.

His body laced with pain, Fallon groaned.

“I’faith, you should have left it alone,” Brody called from his bunk in the gaol. “I had him under control. Why’d you have to hit him?”

“
I didn’t know I’d break my hand,” Fallon moaned, eyeing his bruised and swollen fingers. “How was I to know the man hath a head of granite?”

A footstep echoed outside the iron bars of their cell and in a moment the nasal voice of a guard cut through the gloom.
“Are you two able to cease brawling in His Majesty’s streets of Jamestown?”

“
He had a good reason for brawling, haven’t I said so?” Brody said, sitting up to face the soldier. He tossed the man one of the good-natured smiles that never failed to win him favor. “The child had been battered to a pulp, and even now stands in danger of losing his life.”

“
Where is the boy?” Fallon said, struggling to sit up. “I don’t care if you keep me in here, but the boy needs help. He was in a bad way when I last saw him—”

“
We took the boy to Mistress Rolfe,” the gaoler replied, his keys jangling against the iron lock. With a click and a protesting screech of metal, the door swung open. “Y’are both free to go, but if you tangle with Tobias Harden again, you’ll spend six months in our gaol.”

“
Thank you,” Brody said, slipping easily from the bed.

He paused to wait for Fallon, who rose gingerly from his cot.
His ribs ached, his bones felt permanently misaligned, and his right hand was utterly useless. He moved carefully past the gaoler and met the man’s steady gaze with a timid smile. “Tell me this, at least,” Fallon whispered confidentially, hugging his swollen hand to his chest. “Did I hurt that ruffian at all?”