Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [88]
Wanchese’s skull was split open and spilling blood. He lay motionless; there was so much blood he had to be dead. The battle was now over. Two Englishmen lay on the ground, arrows protruding from them. One was John Chapman. Almost a dozen Indians were dead or wounded. The six who had become Manteo’s allies stood with their eyes fixed on the two bloody figures in the dust.
Manteo had not moved either. My stomach tightened. After all he had risked to bring about our rescue, to see him bleeding in the dirt! I felt tears cloud my sight. I remembered how proud he looked when John White gave him his robe of office, how firm he stood when the assistants showed prejudice and mistrust. I remembered his warnings about Dasemunkepeuc, his steady vigilance, and his promise of rescue. He had fulfilled that promise, and now he might die. I had done nothing to deserve his sacrifice.
Get up, Manteo! With my thoughts I willed him to rise. You must not die like this.
Graham and Ananias knelt at Manteo’s side and leaned close to him. Then they nodded to each other. He was alive! They lifted him by the shoulders until he was sitting.
“Jane, go fetch water,” I said. Tearing her dress that I had been mending into strips, I ran toward Manteo and crouched beside him.
His eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused. “Moon … Maiden,” he murmured.
Perhaps I looked like the moon with my pale, round face hovering over his. Most likely he was half dreaming. I was so glad to hear him breathe and speak I put my hand to his cheek. “Thank you, Lord Manteo,” I whispered.
Thank you for not dying. Thank you for coming back.
When Sobaki realized that Wanchese was past help, she came and tended to Manteo’s wounds. None were deep enough to endanger him. In a week he was well enough to lead negotiations. Wanchese’s supporters had either been killed or had run away, and the rest submitted to Manteo as their chief. He appointed one of the elders to govern Nantioc. To show their appreciation for these new allies, Ananias offered three muskets and various trinkets in exchange for us. He and the assistants showed a new respect to Manteo, treating him as their equal.
I spent much time pondering that confused battle, the memory of which made my heart pound. Would fighting have broken out if the warrior had not seized the musket and fired at Ambrose? But the soldiers outside were so quick to respond they must have expected a battle. Manteo had called for peace, but he had fought in earnest, taking our side without hesitation. Was it for my sake, or did he also want Wanchese dead? And who was the Moon Maiden? I longed to ask Manteo but was too overcome by my debt to him. Perhaps there would be time later, and then I would know what to say.
A few days after the battle, Jane took me aside. She still wore deerskins, since I had torn up her dress.
“I’m sorry I ruined your clothes,” I said. “I shall make you a new bodice and skirt once we get home.”
Jane smiled ruefully. “It is too late.”
“I’ll make it to fit after the babe is born,” I said.
“No, Cate, that is not what I mean.” She sighed. “Did you see how Ambrose Vickers and all the men looked at me? I am an object of disgust and scorn to them,” she said, her lips starting to tremble. “I have made myself an outcast by this”—she pointed to her belly—“and I shall forever remain one to men like Vickers and Bailey.”
“You can live with me. When we go to Chesapeake, I will have my own house, and you and I shall share it,” I pleaded.
“Oh, I should be so glad!” she said. “But I fear I would not be happy, even there. For I think …” She looked down shyly. “I think Tameoc favors me.”
I remembered Jane praising Tameoc once before. Manteo had made him one of the councilors of Nantioc. He might become a leader now that Wanchese was dead. Jane could do far worse than marry Tameoc. Still, to abandon English ways