Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [56]
Before I could become a lord, I had to be baptized. John-white explained this ceremony of water would be a sign of the English religion taking root among us. I agreed, for I had learned about their beliefs from Hare-yet and found many likenesses to my own. They believe in one chief god, who is the creator of the sun, moon, and stars. Like us, they believe that after death a man’s spirit either dwells with their god or in a fiery pit, which they call “hell” and we call “Popogusso.” They also petition their god in order to to receive good things.
So I let John-white lead me into the water and call upon the spirit to enter me. Afterward he laid on my shoulders a mantle trimmed in fur and beads and feathers.
I had become a lord. A weroance. I waited for the montoac to fill me.
Chapter 22
A Birth
For a long time I was haunted by the sight of George Howe’s body pierced with arrows, his head smashed like a melon. Almost harder to bear, however, was witnessing young Georgie’s grief. When he saw his father’s body, he tried to wake him up. When his father did not stir, Georgie began to howl. It was terrible to hear: the deep voice heaving and sobbing. Joan Mannering, his aunt, tried to soothe the giant boy. But his wordless lamenting went on until his father’s body was buried and Georgie could no longer see him. Then from time to time he would stop people and say, “My papa is in the ground, where the worms are. Do you think it is cold under there? Georgie is not cold.” But he shuddered anyway.
“Your papa was a good man. And you are a good boy,” people would say, then hurry away to keep the innocent boy from seeing their own sadness, their own fear.
George Howe had gone crabbing by himself the day he was killed. Immediately the governor forbade anyone to leave the settlement alone or unarmed, and the guard was doubled at the fort and around the palisade. Everyone said I was lucky to be alive myself. But I wasn’t frightened. I thought because I held no prejudice against the Indians, they would not harm me. Perhaps the shock of finding George Howe had only numbed me to danger and fear. Eleanor was more blunt; she said I was crazy.
The raid on Dasemunkepeuc was carried out to end the threat from those who had killed George Howe. When White and his men returned, they brought several Indians to Fort Ralegh. Thinking they were captives, the soldiers rushed to seize them. All the women retreated into their houses to peer from the windows. I stood outside the governor’s house, too curious to think about hiding. I saw Jane Pierce also watching from her garden.
Georgie followed the Indians, his eyes wide with interest. He did not know who they were, or that they might have killed his father, so he was fearless. His aunt dashed out from her house and pulled him roughly inside.
Governor White gave orders for the soldiers to lay aside their weapons.
One of his assistants, who had stayed at the fort, was unwilling. “You left to seek revenge and return with the enemy in tow?” he asked, his hand resting on the pistol tucked in his belt.
White looked at him sharply. “We erred in our attack,” he said. “These are friends of Manteo. They did not kill George. Leave your pistol and join us.”
The man shoved the weapon into his boot and followed the governor and the Indian men into the house.
Five women, one of them stooped with age, and two children remained outside. The women had markings that encircled their upper arms in a design so intricate it reminded me of Venetian lace. They wore deerskins over their loins like aprons, but above the waist they were naked. They did not scruple to cover their breasts with their hair, as I would have done.
“Shall we give them our shifts?