Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [87]
The conjurer began to sway and chant as if he were casting a spell. He grew more animated, and his clapping and capering put me in mind of the queen’s fool Dick Tarleton. Suddenly his eyes rolled up in his head and he sank to the ground in a trance. When he came to himself again, he seemed disappointed to see me unchanged.
Sobaki, too, regarded me. I could see she did not believe I had a demon. “We will try again another day,” she said, smiling at me.
I felt like a prisoner granted a reprieve.
The very next day, the storm of violence broke over Nantioc like a tempest conjured out of the air.
Jane and I were sitting with Mika and Takiwa, and I was letting out the seams of Jane’s dress to accommodate her growing belly. Jane was wrapped in deerskins and remarking what a tolerable and easy way it was to dress, when Ananias and Ambrose Vickers walked into the village. They were wearing armor but holding their weapons loosely at their sides. I clapped my hand to my mouth, stifling a cry of surprise. Manteo was with them, as were Wanchese’s men who had gone to Fort Ralegh. At once they were surrounded by tense and uncertain Nantioc warriors.
“Betty, come quickly!” said Jane, but Ambrose had already spotted his wife. He broke away from Wanchese’s men and ran to her. She dropped the water gourd she was carrying and with a loud cry fell into his arms.
Apparently startled, or thinking he was defending Betty, one of the Nantioc warriors grabbed a musket and pointed it at Ambrose. Upon seeing the gun, Betty screamed again while Ambrose sheltered her with his body.
“Peace! We have not come to fight,” said Manteo.
But the Indian, whether by accident or intention, fired the musket. The ball struck Ambrose’s armor, spinning him out of Betty’s arms. A high-pitched wailing rose from the Nantioc warriors, like a call to arms. At the same moment there was a burst of gunfire from outside the palisade. The warriors within drew their bows and fitted them with arrows. Wanchese came running, a knife in his hand. Takiwa and Mika darted away. I pulled Jane to the ground and we hid behind a heavy log. Explosions of musket fire seemed to come from all around, and a ball struck the log. Jane buried her head in my hair. Her ragged breath was hot in my ear.
English and Algonkian voices mingled in my ears with the sound of blows and cries of agony. I peered over the log to see Graham and half a dozen Englishmen firing on the Nantioc warriors. Tameoc had joined the battle, taking our side. To my amazement, the Indians were fighting each other. The ones who had gone with Manteo were now fighting against the Nantioc warriors loyal to Wanchese. Had Manteo turned his guards into his allies?
Not thirty feet away from me, Manteo and Wanchese faced each other, crouching and ready to spring. Wanchese brandished his knife, Manteo an axe. Wanchese’s scarred face was twisted with rage, while Manteo’s was tense and alert. Wanchese lunged; the taller Manteo jumped nimbly aside.
“You are a traitor to your people and Kewasa will punish you,” Wanchese said, panting. Kewasa was their malevolent god.
“I brought the English and their weapons as I promised,” said Manteo almost as if he were taunting his opponent.
Wanchese thrust with his knife, slashing Manteo’s arm, and Manteo responded with a swing of his hatchet, the flat blade hitting Wanchese’s shoulder and barely missing his neck.
His rage growing, Wanchese said, “You made my men betray me.”
“No, they turned against you because you are a tyrant,” Manteo countered. “Throw down your weapon and let us parley. If you kill me, the English will kill you.”
Wanchese hesitated before unleashing a series of blows so swift I could hardly follow his movements. He kicked Manteo, who whirled around but stayed on his feet. I saw he meant to fight to the death. Red stripes on Manteo’s trunk and legs dripped blood into the dirt. He staggered and it seemed he would fall. Wanchese tensed his knife