I hum its bright music,
its melody sings.
I hold the name closely,
its beauty my treasure,
hidden here with me,
my secret alone.
Alis
Mother,
always so quick
to mend any rift
within our family,
after Father whispers to her
all that’s happened,
looks to me,
disappointment in her eyes.
She says
nothing,
does
nothing
to make things better.
Never
have I been
more alone.
KIMI
The day passes
with sun and dirt and weeding.
I leave the fields,
I go to find her,
but she is not in our meeting place.
I reach for my pearls,
remember they are gone.
Though I do not know
Wanchese’s plans,
I will not believe
she is in danger,
for my montoac protects her.
I could do nothing for Alawa,
but I will do all I am able
to keep Alis safe.
Alis
Mrs. Dare no longer
brings Virginia.
She does not trust me
with her child.
As Father suggests,
am I to blame
for Mr. Dare’s death?
It is
too much—
Did I destroy
this family?
Alis
Shut in,
I will not wander,
will not talk
to those I shouldn’t.
Unseen,
I will not bring
my family
further shame.
Closed off,
held back,
contained,
I will not tempt
disaster.
Forgotten,
I will
simply
fade away.
Alis
Though a few still side with Manteo,
most assistants want to leave at once.
We are so close to Chesapeake,
they say,
the journey will be swift,
that shelters, a few vegetables
are a poor excuse for staying
where our very lives are threatened.
Father was the one
who pushed for leaving sooner,
but this has been forgotten.
He’s been stripped of his position.
No one listens to him now.
His daughter is a traitor, they say.
Alis
At first,
we’ll take
only what’s necessary.
Later,
others will collect
the rest of our possessions.
What do I have that is needed,
save the clothing I wear?
Yet there is one here
far more dear to me than these.
We will depart,
sail in the pinnace,
group by group,
build the City of Ralegh.
We are to forget this Roanoke,
but I cannot,
I never will.
Alis
“We’re to gather in the square
this evening,” Father says.
I stir my pottage,
more water than true meal.
For once I am not saddened
Father keeps me shut away.
I could not bear
their questioning eyes,
their looks of disapproval.
“You’re coming, Alis,” he says.
I grip my spoon so tightly,
it bites into my skin.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll tell everyone you forsake that Indian.”
I glance at Mother.
She never turns my way.
“If you don’t,” he says,
“we’ll be outcast,
unable to start again in Chesapeake.”
I slam the spoon upon the table,
hoping for correction.
Mother hasn’t spoken to me in days.
Instead she stands,
swiftly clears the table.
Father pushes back his chair.
“It’s time to go,” he says.
Alis
How different the outside world is,
how unfamiliar the village seems,
the night air not as I remember it,
the stars in unknown patterns,
these faces strange.
So much feels changed
in just three days.
Father moves ahead of us.
I stay with Mother,
her body shields me from the others.
If only she’d speak,
put her arm about my shoulders.
The talk is as it’s always been—
threat and leaving,
hunger, fear.
Then Father calls to everyone,
“My daughter wants to speak.”
Everyone staring,
fire and shadow
in their faces.
I try to breathe.
My chest is pinched.
“Tell them, Alis.”
Father’s words ring out.
Kimi,
my friend,
who’s been
so good to me.
I twist my apron
in my fists.
Now Father’s next to me.
“Say it,” he says.
“I—”
my throat constricts.
No words will come.
“You must,” he whispers.
My family’s standing
rests on this.
Forgive me, friend.
What else can I do?
“I was wrong.”
The words come,
but I will not claim them.
“I betrayed our village
in befriending the girl.”
No one speaks.
Mother’s eyes are downcast.
No one
says a thing
because
they’ll
never
trust me.
My heart rushes.
I crush my hand against it.
And feel them.
Kimi’s pearls.
It is too much!
Tears prick my eyes.
I’ve given her away.
Alis
Those who call me traitor,
there is no reason
they’ll embrace me
once we set sail for Chesapeake.
They will all begin again.
I will still be a disgrace,
a reminder
of strife
and fear
and failure.
Alis
I cannot sleep,
ask Father for a bit of wood.
I do not have Uncle’s skill,
am not so familiar with iacháwanes
to remember every feature,
but what I create satisfies.
I imagine Uncle Samuel,
his warm hand at my back,
and the making
helps ease my grief
>
in losing him,
helps me forget for just a moment
I’ve lost her, too.
“It is good,” Father tells me as he holds it.
“Fine work like Samuel’s.”
He talks as though
all is well between us.
This bird’s a humble offering,
though she’ll never receive it.
This bird speaks the things I cannot say.
I am sorry, Kimi.
I knew no other way.
KIMI
Though she hasn’t come,
each day I go to meet her.
Is she safe?
Does my montoac
protect her?
Or has she decided
our friendship is a burden,
the risk of knowing me
too great?
Alis
Father says
my confession
has set me free,
that with time
I’ll be forgiven
by the community.
Mother speaks
to me again,
but uses formal words,
that help to keep her distance.
She has no soft caresses,
no tenderness for me.
Perhaps one day,
Father will again be asked to lead.
Perhaps Mother will soften,
that all she needs is time.
Neither understands
why I remain indoors.
I cannot undo
what I’ve done
to Kimi.
I cannot face
those who do not
want me near.
Until we leave the island,
this is where I’ll stay.
Alis
This truth is inescapable:
living here brings danger.
I imagine meeting Kimi
in a place we mustn’t hide.
It never was expected
we’d remain on Roanoke.
If we had never journeyed here,
how much my life would lack.
We are impoverished,
desperate.
I’m most myself
when with her.
How might I find peace
when two worlds war inside?
Alis
How many days
since George saw
the two of us together?
Perhaps a week or more.
It is hard to remember,
too painful to think upon.
Even inside the cottage
The heat has relented a mite,
the morning air does not press down
like such a heavy weight.
Summer’s end draws near.
Outside,
The men drag trunks,
roll barrels through the village
to the pinnace at the shore.
It happens so suddenly,
the shouts that pound like thunder,
pulling all to the square.
From the window
I see Father,
unsteady on his feet,
lunging
at
Manteo.
Alis
I forget my vow to stay inside,
race to see what happens.
Alis
Mr. Pratt
and Old Lump-and-Bump
try to restrain Father,
but they’re no match for his fury.
“Speak!” he yells to Manteo,
“of the attack you’ve planned
with the Roanoke!”
Alis
“I can tell you.”
George smiles.
Never have I seen him more satisfied.
“Manteo meets in the forest
with them.”
Father’s neck is mottled red.
“There is no reason for this boy to lie!”
“I’ve planned no attack,” Manteo says.
But others badger from the crowd,
call for Manteo’s arrest.
“You refuse to help us load the pinnace,
insist we stay though Howe and Dare are dead.
You want to fight with the Roanoke against us,
rid Virginia of all Englishmen.”
“Am I not an Englishman?” Manteo says.
“Your hair.
These beads about your neck.”
Father yanks the strand.
Shells spill to the ground.
“No Englishman dresses this way.”
Manteo’s teeth are clenched
though his words are clear.
“Do you not realize
how much I’ve lost in joining you?
Some here do not trust me.
My own people
do not understand.
But they have not seen what I have,
our queen,
Elizabeth,
the great weroansqua,
whose power reaches across the seas.
I can be Croatoan,
and speak for my people.
I can be an Englishman,
and serve my queen.”
“Liar!”
Mrs. Dare shouts,
“Spy!”
It is George who yells the loudest,
his features a grotesque mask of hate.
The tumult grows,
explodes into a frenzied chorus.
Alis
I set my feet wide
to keep from being shoved about.
Mother finds me,
Samuel’s cries reaching hysteria.
She pleads with me to follow,
but I pretend I can’t hear her.
Mr. Pratt and Lump-and-Bump
have tied Manteo’s hands behind him.
His head dips forward
like a broken reed.
I try to piece together
what George might have seen,
if what he said is true.
George would gain satisfaction
in finding reason to attack.
At Father’s command,
the men lead Manteo to the jail.
How quickly Father’s found his place again.
“Alis!” Mother calls,
but still I will not go to her
nor Father,
who has sparked unrest,
encouraged an angry boy
to speak against Manteo,
the one our Governor
appointed as our leader,
the one our Governor
called friend.
Alis
I return to our cottage,
close all the shutters
to escape the chaos outside.
“I called for you,” Mother says.
I do not answer.
“Father’s looking for the Howe boy.
Have you seen him?”
George is not my worry.
I care for nothing that happens
in this village anymore.
Mother finds a piece of bread,
serves me a modest portion.
My hunger awakens.
I’ve had nothing since breakfast.
I do not ask of Father,
simply reach for Samuel,
let his steady breathing
draw me to sleep.
Alis
It is Mother who awakens me
in the mid-afternoon.
“Please take this to your father.
He’
s had no food since morning.”
Within me,
anger’s fire has diminished,
leaving sorrow’s blackened ash.
I hold the bread she offers,
kiss the top of Samuel’s head.
KIMI
The sun escapes the clouds
that have held it fast.
There is change in the English camp,
the way they move about
like the sparrows that flock
just to flee
the harvest season.
The sun journeys farther
across the great expanse.
The English boy
whose hair curls at his forehead,
like strips of peeled river birch bark,
from behind a tree
I see him approach,
put down his weapon.
In watching Alis
I’ve come to understand
the English coverings
are for more than warmth and protection.
Maybe the boy has never seen
a woman dressed as I am.
I cross my arms before me
for his comfort.
“I’ve come to speak of Alis.”
Hope soars
when I hear her name.
“We know of your secret meetings.”
He hesitates for a moment.
“Don’t expect her again.”
What has happened
that she hasn’t come?
“She is in trouble.”
His eyes meet mine.
In a flash he lowers his gaze.
“I have caused her trouble.”
I hold my fist to my chest.
“Alis.”
Before this English boy
I claim her.
“There is something else,” he whispers,
his features sharp with pain.
“I am sorry.”
He covers his face.
“I am sorry!”
He rushes away.
Alis
There is one whose needs
might have been forgotten
in the chaos of the day.
I cross the threshold,
hold the bread in my outstretched hand.
“For Manteo.”
My voice echoes off the walls.
Mr. Pratt wipes his bald head with a rag,
follows me with wary eyes.
“My mother sent me with this,” I say,
for what is one more lie?
Blue Birds Page 12
