Jenna scoffed. “The man should doff his Jesuit robes and join us. I have come to believe that he belongs here; he just does not yet realize it. Certain men can be thick-headed, and will not admit defeat, or that their beliefs can be challenged.”
“It is a beautiful land, filled with beautiful people,” he agreed.
She nodded. “I thought as much, even having been bound and drug here as a frightened captive. There was always something sacred and untainted in this wilderness.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “My, yet another adventurous story?”
Chuckling, she added, “Oh, I have quite a few. Since I survived and found love, these stories, unfortunately, have served only to make Katari believe that the great, wide world is lying openly for her pleasure and exploration.”
Nicholas sighed. “I, too, have seen that side of her,” he commented, “but the wilderness is deadly, and many men within it even more so.”
Jenna looked at him carefully. “You are wise, Nicholas. I shall enjoy your company here.”
“As I will enjoy yours,” he replied. “So why is your young adventurer not accompanying us on this expedition?”
“Her father disallowed it, this time,” she laughed. “Katari was not happy, for sure.”
“Oh, I see.”
However, Nicholas wondered why. He had also noticed the absence of White Lynx, as well. Was it purposely crafted to allow time for the lovers to enjoy themselves without his disruptive presence? The thought curdled inside him like sour ale.
Jenna looked uncomfortable, and shifted in her saddle. “White Lynx is jealous of you, you know,” she eventually pronounced, glancing at him causally.
Nicholas kept his face impassive, although the thought of his jealously pleased him in several ways. His competitive nature did not allow him compassion for the brave. “White Lynx does not need to fret,” he eventually answered. “I wish nothing but happiness for Katari, and a fruitful future with her people.”
“Do you?”
Nicholas looked at her sharply. “Of course, Jenna. I owe Katari my life.”
“Ah, yes,” she returned. “The healing.”
When he nodded, she continued. “The process of a healing trance is much more intricate that anyone can know. It does not just…happen, when you wish it to.”
“Really? I have no idea how she did it. I do not believe Katari does, either.”
“It is likely that she doesn’t. It is a born talent, and one that does not come to full strength until adulthood. Then it must be…managed. She is frightened of it, yes,” Jenna replied. “But I will tell you this, Nicholas: the two of you have bonded in a way that you do not yet understand.”
He furrowed his brows. “How so?” When he looked over at Katari’s mother, she regarded him intensely. Her green eyes, the color of woodland moss, looked right through his casual expression and into his heart. He swallowed hard.
“Do you love my daughter?”
The question stung him hard, and he tore his gaze away, focusing on the thickening grove of pines that lay ahead. A small stream curved through is, tumbling over round rocks and pebbles. Some of the men were dismounting.
“Of course I do,” he mumbled. “But you already know this.” He dared not look back to judge her expression. “However, I am not worthy of your daughter. Katari is meant for better things than I.”
He did not wait to hear her answer. With that grim admission, Nicholas rode forward quickly into the circle of waiting men.
~~~~~
“I will tell you.
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the aft was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke.”
Katari sat back against her bunk and sighed, imagining the beauty of Cleopatra’s golden ship with brilliant purple sails. She did feel a bit of guilt for sneaking into the Big House and making off with the book. She really did. But, Nicholas had brought the tome for her, had he not? So, she had done no true wrong… just a discourtesy to White Lynx. What he did not know would not injure his pride.
It was just a book. One that had consumed every extra minute she could sneak away from her friends and tribespeople. It had been much easier to accomplish during her hawk-eyed mother’s absence since riding off with the hunting party. Katari knew from experience that, although Jenna’s green gaze was lovely, it missed very little when observing the actions of her only daughter.
The beauty and wiles of Queen Cleopatra had captivated Katari’s imagination. The ebony haired temptress had captured Antony with her striking loveliness and passionate determination. But their love was not to be a calm passage soothed with harmony. Back and forth, the lovers battled the upsets of uncertainty, deception, and heartache. Although each had duties that called in opposing directions, the allure of passionate love could not part the couple. Breaking allegiances, they joined forces and battled together in an epic struggle against the power of Rome.
Katari could hardly absorb the grand adventure of it all. Antony must have been an amazing man, to capture Cleopatra so very completely. She chewed her lip, thinking of the power of his masculine force.
Shakespeare had called him “the demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm and burgonet of men.” Katari wondered if Antony was made as finely as Nicholas was, with golden skin, so warm, yet hard as red jasper stone.
However, in the midst of all of the lover’s passion, there remained both heartbreak…and death. Did the greatest of loves always lie along such a treacherous path? Was there a lesson for her in this?
She heard movement outside the lodge and quickly shoved the tome under her bed-pelt. Katari then sat on her hands guiltily.
“Katari? Hello?” a male voice rang out.
“Maluwe,” she breathed the curse softly. The voice most definitely belonged to White Lynx. The brave was seeking her out yet again in the absence of her parents. Katari was unable to conceal her resultant gasp of pain when she stood abruptly, and rapped her head hard against the bunk’s wooden frame.
“Katari is that you?” the brave persisted, ducking under the door-flap that she had left drawn back with leather ties for the purpose of increasing her reading light.
“Hello, White Lynx,” she managed after clearing her throat. “You surprised me. I did not recognize your voice at first,” she lied. She could feel the bump on her forehead swelling, and rubbed it gently.
“It seems that I’ve caught you by yourself this morning. Whatever could you be doing in her all alone, sweet one?” he murmured, moving toward her.
Katari stepped away from the bunk, but the brave swept his arm around her waist, halting her progress. He rained a kiss on her temple, just shy of the burgeoning bruise.
“Why, I just cleaned up my sewing items,” she mumbled. “My mother should return soon and so…so…”
Her voice trailed off. So many lies lately…it was not a good thing, this path she now walked. White Lynx’s hand on her waist was warm and heavy, yet she could not easily evade it in the close quarters of the lodge. When would the damn hunting party return and release her from this constant game of seek and hide?
The brave reached back with one long arm and released the ties of the door-flap, allowing it to swing closed with a whoosh. “In truth, I was hoping to catch you alone, Katari.”
“Why?”
“To do this,” he answered, placing a tugging little kiss along her lower lip. “And then this.” He dipped his head lower to the little hollow at the base of her throat, where her pulse nervously throbbed.
“White Lynx,” she pushed against his chest lightly. “You jest with me.”
“No,” he continued, grinning at her. “Don’t play coy, Katari. You are afraid of nothing, I know this well.”
Yet, she was afraid. Katari most feared what lay in the deepest layers of her heart. White Lynx did
not entice her anymore. And now, she did not know how to handle the persistent older brave. She could tell that he expected a passionate return embrace as they had been promised to be wedded for many weeks now.
She drew a breath and put on her most serious expression, much as she would a healer’s mask. “White Lynx,” she began dourly. “You must realize that-“
Laughing now, the brave took her by the elbows and spun her toward the bedding. The back of her knees hit the mattress, and Katari went down upon it, with White Lynx heavily atop her. “No more play, Katari,” he whispered. “I wish us to be wedded. And I wish to lie together. I am a man, and I need my woman with me. It is rightly so.”
“But-“
“What is this?” His large hand had touched upon the leather-bound book she was hiding, and drew it from beneath the pelt. White Lynx sat up and released her abruptly, pulling the book with him. He ran his fingers across the cover, and stared at the foreign writing quizzically.
“Where did this come from, Katari? What is it?”
“It’s… it is a book.”
“What do you mean…a book?” He opened it, and stared at the paper covered with unfamiliar markings. “Is it the Jesuit’s property?”
Katari sat up and exhaled heavily, trying to think of how to best explain. The Lenape held their history in songs and verbal stories. Her tribe possessed no such thing as books. “You know that the Whites write their words down on paper. You have seen the Father’s maps, haven’t you?”
“Father Allouez gave this to you? This is a book of maps? It does not look like such a thing.”
She bit her lip. Would it be another lie? “No,” she finally relented. “It is a book of story-words that Nicholas Belline brought with him from the White city. It contains a grand tale, one worthy of many songs.”
White Lynx stared at her, concern feathering across his handsome features. “You…stole this book from the White trapper, Katari?”
“No!” she voiced staunchly. “I do not steal. You do not understand – although it happened long ago, the story was real and was put into words by a weaver of words. This man, Shakespeare, is a true master of his craft, White Lynx, you would be amazed!”
She saw his jaw stiffen, and knew her own words were not reaching him in the right way. “So, this White trapper gave you this grand story-book of his people?”
“Well, yes but not-“
“It was a gift, Katari?”
Wide-eyed, she quickly realized her folly. Certainly, she should have lied, and with all the wiles that she had within her.
When she did not answer, the braves eyes darkened. “Such a thing as this…White book…is unacceptable, Katari.”
Her silence prodded him to grasp her chin. The look in his eyes was now wintry. “This story-book from Nicholas Belline has only one meaning. It is a bride-gift, Katari. And now, you have accepted bride-gifts from both me and this trapper.”
Chapter 22
Katari audibly gasped. “It is no such thing, White Lynx!”
Her insides twisted even as the desperate words spilled out of her mouth. Oh, why did she go and filch the damned book in the first place? Initially, she did not accept the book as a gift from Nicholas for the very reason that it would be considered inappropriate. Now, she was caught between the admission of a deliberate theft of personal property or the acceptance of a personal gift that denoted a serious lover’s interest. Any which way she stepped was a lie, and a poor one at that.
“Nicholas does not know our tribal ways, White Lynx,” she finally managed. “He did not knowingly intend this book as a bride-gift.”
The brave crossed his arms, and then pushed off the bed abruptly. The mattress wobbled in the wake of his quick departure, and she grabbed at the bunk-pole to steady it.
White Lynx glared down at her. “Yet, you eagerly accepted this thing, my beloved one. And you most certainly knew what it implied, even if this White man did not.” He strode to the door and paused to stare out into the waning afternoon.
Katari watched his shoulders rise and fall, and knew that he struggled with the sharp wounding of his male pride. How could she assuage him? Did she want to? She drew a breath and struggled with her racing thoughts.
“I did not wish to hurt his feel-“
“Stop it, Katari!” White Lynx commanded. “You are insulting my intelligence.”
She sighed heavily. “What do you wish for me to say, then, White Lynx? Every word that I have uttered only angers you more!”
“Then say nothing at all,” he barked at her. “There is only one man that I wish to hear words from, in any case.”
Her mouth dropped open with that utterance. “Which man?”
White Lynx shot her a wry grin. “Why, Belline, of course. I wish to hear what this trapper actually intended by offering you such an important gift. Perhaps he does wish to marry you, Katari. Would you be pleased with him as a mate instead of me? Would you be his Country Wife?”
Although the thought made her flush down to her toes in remembrance, she managed to appear shocked and then angry, in turn. “Of course not, White Lynx! How can you even say such a silly thing?”
The brave turned back toward the door. His firm and corded body was briefly etched by the slanting rays of sunlight that found him. He was certainly attractive. Why could she not will herself to want him?
White Lynx laughed harshly. “Because, Katari, I now believe that perhaps my older brother was right after all.” He ducked beneath the frame of the door and disappeared into the quiet village.
What was it that Brown Eagle right about? Katari was left trembling on the corner of her bed, barely comprehending all that had just happened. Only hours before, she had anxiously anticipated the return of her mother, father, and most of all, Nicholas Belline. Now, dread filled her core at the thought of what would happen when they did so.
After a few minutes, when she had stifled her tears to her satisfaction, Katari could not help but wonder what happened next to Antony and Cleopatra. Her hands flew to search within the pelts where it had been found.
It appeared that she was not to know what became of their love on this day. White Lynx had taken the trapper’s gift with him.
~~~~~
His shoulders ached, his thighs burned, and his rump was more than a little bit saddle sore. Still, Nicholas felt satisfied as the muffled thud of hooves continued along the sun-dappled trail. It was a beautiful summer’s day, and he had ten luxurious pelts tied across his pony’s haunches. A soft breeze had lifted the intensity of the afternoon rays from his shoulders and caressed his sweaty lower back with a cool touch. The constant brush of air was enough to keep the insects at bay as well.
It was true, however, that Nicholas had grown anxious to return to the village, as had his friend, Pétant. Although neither would admit to such a thing, Nicholas realized that they both missed the women. It appeared that they were mutually bitten by a certain brand of emotion.
For Nicholas, it was quite unfortunate. But, even though Katari was not meant for him, he was now determined to enjoy every remaining moment he could find with the girl, in ways that would not offend her people. He would somehow make her accept his gifts before leaving so that she would remember him always. It was certain that he would never forget her.
Where could he journey onto after this final visit? It would be impossible for him to reside in the Minsi village for the remaining duration of Opichi’s pregnancy while watching Katari wed and bed her new mate. The mere thought of it drove him to the brink of madness. Viewing them together as a loving couple would push him right over the edge.
Glancing down, Nicholas unlocked his fingers, which had become uncomfortably knotted by tension in the pony’s leather reins. He cracked his knuckles to ease their cramping. Although Katari’s family had treated him better than any other human kind had before, it was now time for him to move on. His feelings for Katari were simply not going to dissipate. The very thought of his departure left him bitter and h
ollow.
Once again, he was reminded of Claire. In the days following her death, Nicholas had resolutely carried on, like he always had. The other children still depended on him. Inside, his gentle hope had died along with her.
Systematically, he had hunted down each of the boys who had detained him, beat him, and attempted to steal Claire’s life-sustaining bread. Even though they were bigger, he had managed to subdue and break the index finger of every cul while repeating Claire’s name aloud, over and over. And he broke them severely. Nicholas knew that such an injury would heal in time, but quite crookedly. He wanted those boys to remember her name forevermore, every time they used their hands to commit a deed, be it good or evil.
Such revenge did not bring him a single measure of comfort. His capacity for calculated and meticulous violence brought him no pride at all. Even after committing each systematic revenge, he still could not forget her frightened eyes, and the pale froth at the corners of her mouth. Claire had died in terror.
“How do you fare this afternoon, Nicholas?” Jenna questioned from behind him. Nick drew in a quick breath and put a smile on his face before swiveling in the saddle to greet Katari’s mother.
“It is a lovely day and we have had a successful hunt,” he answered smoothly. Every time he looked upon this woman, he saw evidence of Katari. It never failed to entrance him. His smile swiftly became genuine. “Therefore, I fare quite well, Jenna.”
She smiled back at him. “Are you looking forward to our return? We are soon nearing the village, for I recognize this terrain. I have gathered many plants from these parts over the years.”
Nicholas nodded. “Believe it or not, I am more than a bit saddle sore.”
Jenna laughed. “These warriors do not play when they hunt and trap in earnest. Plus, I believe they were very intent in impressing you with their skills.”
Savage Journey Page 21
