Dangerous Dreams: A Novel

by Mike Rhynard

  Waters listened quietly then surprised her by smiling. “Well, Mistress . . . Emily, if I may call you that . . . I thought my military career would be longer than this; but I guess one can never predict such things, can one? And alas, you are correct. I am bound by duty to defend the colony . . . to the end; and I will do my duty, as will Governor Baylye. But I will inform him of your kind offer.” He looked away for a moment then gazed deeply, lingeringly into her striking blue eyes. “You know, Milady, that day back at Roanoke, in the beginning, when I said you were an angel . . . I was right. You are an angel. No more beautiful, brave, kind, unassuming, and wonderful woman has ever graced this earth; and were it not for my commitment to one Rebecca Roberts in England and my duty to the colony, I would follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  Emily blushed, tried to smile. “You’re too kind, Lieutenant.”

  “Nay, Mistress. I speak the truth. But since fate has chosen to proceed in the manner it has, I ask a favor.”

  “Certainly.”

  “If you ever again see England, would you be so kind as to go to York and tell my parents, Squire Richard and Mary Waters, as well as Rebecca Roberts, what befell me, that I did my duty to Queen and country, and that I died bravely in battle?”

  Emily couldn’t speak, tasted the salty warmth of sudden tears flowing down her cheeks to her lips. Dear God, he speaks serenely of dying, accepts it without fear. Yet, could any soldier view death in battle otherwise? I think not; but still, to know your life will soon end, that naught but pain and horror await you with dreadful finality . . . and still do your duty. Is this not the essence of courage—the steadfast resolve to face whatever comes, with honor, bravery, and dedication, no matter what? Lieutenant William Waters . . . so young . . . such an immensely fine man . . . will soon be no more. She bit her lower lip. “I shall, Lieutenant. I promise you. But . . . but I must also tell you that your strength and courage compel me to remain here . . . with my countrymen . . . face fate with them. ’Tis only—”

  Waters shook his head, touched her cheek. “Nay, Emily. Do not torment yourself. You’ve made the proper choice. I do not know these Lakota, but I’ve seen enough to know that your Isna is as fine a man as the best Englishman I’ve ever known . . . and most certainly as noble, courageous, and proficient a warrior as there is in this world. A soldier senses these things. And though you embark on a bold journey, I know he will give you the love and care you deserve.”

  She rubbed her eyes. “Forgive me. Cannot seem to rid myself of these constant tears. But thank you, Lieutenant, you are again too kind.” She stared into his eyes for several seconds then suddenly reached out, touched his shoulders, pulled him close, kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, William Waters.” She slowly stood, sniffled, turned toward the door.

  Waters rose. “Emily, the palisades will be heavily guarded tonight. We will make preparations until the attack comes. You must depart quietly through the west gap. I will guard that section after midnight and will watch for you and the Dares. Say nothing. Simply slip through the gap, veer left, and make directly for the forest.” He took her hands in his. “One more thing . . . a matter of grave importance. Tayler’s men have sworn to join the fight against the Powhatans, for ’tis in their interest to do so. But I believe they remain loyal to him and will continue to do his bidding . . . now and if we survive. So tell no one of your plan and show no sign of your intentions, in case you are watched.”

  An unsettling chill raced through her body. She nodded. “I shall heed your warning. Thank you . . . William.”

  He stared into her eyes, leaned slowly forward, kissed her lips, smiled. “Godspeed, Emily Colman.”

  The Panther’s wife lay beside her sleeping young son, softly caressed his cheek with a mother’s gentle touch. “You are handsome, my brave little warrior . . . like your father. And you shall grow to be as great a warrior as he . . . perhaps greater . . . and you shall make him proud . . . he, the Panther, the greatest warrior of the Powhatan chiefdom . . . its strongest and wisest war leader . . . the right hand of the great Wahunsunacock . . . the one Wahunsunacock relies on in all matters. Yes, you shall grow to manhood knowing this is so . . . and that you are of his flesh and destined to be great like him. He will know your strength from the moment you shoot your first arrow from your little-boy bow . . . and he will know that greatness follows him in his own lodge.” She leaned close, kissed his cheek, studied his sleeping face. “It shall be so. So rest well, my little one. Rest well, so you may greet your father when he returns from the great victory he leads tonight.”

  Emily walked toward the Dares’ cottage, brushed at her tears every few steps. Why must such a man perish in a lost cause? She thought of the first days at Roanoke when Waters had been the bastion of decisive leadership, faced each new challenge with the quietude and decisiveness of a far older officer. It had been the same ever since . . . a born leader of men, she thought. She shook her head. A waste. Damn you, John White. Why have you abandoned us? She took a deep breath, again wiped her eyes. Forgive my curse, Lord. I know not what has prevented his return, and ’tis unfair to judge or curse him.

  Two more steps drew Emme Merrimoth into her thoughts. She saw her sorrowful, despairing face, tears streaming down her cheeks, felt her tight embrace, her kiss on the cheek when they’d said goodbye. Emily moaned, dabbed tears of grief from her eyes. Why, Lord? Why must it be this way? Why can’t we live in peace? Why? And Shines . . . cannot even say goodbye to her. Shared so much, learned so much from her . . . like a sister . . . always smiling and happy . . . always helping. But dare not see her, in case the Chesapeakes—

  “Mistress Colman.”

  Emily stopped, turned, saw a soldier approaching with a torch in his hand. “Yes?”

  “Mistress Colman, I am one of Hugh Tayler’s guards. He asked me to deliver this urgent message to you. I know not what it says, but he asked me to bear your response to him immediately. I can only be away a moment.” He handed her a sealed parchment, extended his torch toward her. “Here, Mistress, read beneath my torch. I shall look away.” He fixed his gaze on the cottage to his left.

  Emily took the letter, broke the seal, unfolded the parchment.

  My Dearest Emily,

  ’Tis with a heart heavy with grief, humility, and shame that I share with you the following horrible burdens I have carried in my soul. My conduct since meeting you, the fairest creature on earth, has been of a nature contradictory to the deep, unquenchable love I feel for you—the love I have felt since the first moment I saw you. I have acted as an evil demon, a cur, a vile miscreant. I tell you now, this is not who I truly am, or wish to be; yet I confess, I have been so since the death of my mother when I was a child. Still, I have striven valiantly to raise myself up, become a man of noble character. But I have failed, sinned against the one I love above all things in this world, and I am therefore not worthy of life. You, Emily Colman, are the only one who can save me from myself, you alone. And I hereby beg you, on my knees, to come to me, sit with me, speak to me, allow me to express my deep regret for my actions, and help me right myself, purge my mind of the evil that haunts me. I beseech you, please come to me this night, allow me to show you the Hugh Tayler I long to be; for without you, I shall surely end my life in despair.

  I shall await you four hours after the sun sets, and please take care to let no one see your approach. I shall bribe the guards to be gone when you arrive, so do not knock lest someone hear you. I anticipate the joy of your presence, in deep humility and atonement for my deeds.

  With love,

  Hugh

  Emily crinkled the parchment, stuffed it into her apron pocket, took a deep breath, closed her eyes.

  The soldier retracted his torch. “Do you have a reply, Mistress?”

  Emily’s heart and breathing raced. What should I do? He’s insane but truly needs me . . . perchance I can help him . . . and he truly has a right to know of our child . . . and its death. But, Emily, what are you thinking? He wants to ta
ke you again; ’tis but a ruse. Do not be a fool. Her hands trembled. But if I do not go, what then? Waters’ caution echoed through her mind. Dear God, help me! I cannot do this. She looked at the soldier, thankful he could not see her tears. “Tell him . . . tell him my answer is no.”

  “Yes, Mistress. In that case, I am now obliged to give you this second letter.” He handed her another letter, again extended the torch, looked away.

  Emily took the parchment, started to open it. Saints in heaven, what now? Her trembling hands fumbled it to the ground.

  The soldier retrieved it, handed it to her again. “Here, Mistress.”

  She nodded, took the letter, broke the seal, unfolded it, held it to the light.

  My Dearest Emily,

  If you are reading this letter, you have refused my humble, heartfelt plea. Therefore, I must state that anything you may have heard about my men becoming loyal to the governor and Lieutenant Waters is untrue. I exert complete control over their actions; and your failure to honor my request will unleash immediate retribution beyond your imagination, against you and those you love. Know, as well, that any disclosure of the contents of either letter, to anyone, will only worsen that response. So come to me at the appointed hour or suffer the horrible, inescapable consequences of your decision. And last, bear no weapons when you come.

  I love you as always,

  Hugh

  She turned from the torchlight, brushed her eyes, felt a numbing shock seize her body and mind. Mother, Father . . . dear Lord, saints above . . . what am I to do?

  “Do you have a reply, Mistress? I must return to my post.”

  He will surely take me again . . . but if I do not go, he will certainly deliver his promised retribution . . . and his men will watch me, discover our escape . . . and it will fail. Oh, God, what am I to do? Why must it always rest on me? She stared into the darkness, took a deep breath. “Tell Master Tayler my answer is . . . is yes.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” He turned, walked hastily toward Tayler’s cottage.

  Emily stood stunned; tears soaked her cheeks. Again . . . again I must do this. My God, how can I? How can I submit to such a man, sin, betray my love? God, help me. She glanced at the sky, saw the full moon glowing low above the horizon, the same bright star beside it as on the night they’d left Roanoke. So long ago . . . so many happenings ago . . . will I ever find peace? Her heart felt squeezed into a thimble. George . . . Father . . . Isna . . . Mother. She glanced at the sky, saw a long, narrow peninsula of black clouds pointing at the moon like the finger of death, felt and smelled the thick moisture that heralds heavy fog. What ever will become of me?

  She turned, walked the last few steps to the Dares’ cottage; stopped, took a deep breath; rapped on the door, opened it, walked inside.

  Elyoner and Ananias busily stuffed belongings into a rucksack, hesitated, looked up at Emily.

  “You’re coming!”

  Elyoner smiled. The two rushed together, embraced.

  “Ellie, Ellie, I’m so happy. Saints be praised, you’re coming.”

  “Ladies! To work! We’ve a long walk ahead and much to prepare.”

  As Ananias and Elyoner readied Virginia for a brief sleep, Emily watched another ant crawl across the tabletop. It stopped, changed directions several times as if uncertain of its destination, then proceeded toward the edge. You’re as confused as I, little creature. What shall I do? She flicked the ant with her finger. Giving myself is a sin . . . as is condemning others to die for my obstinate pride. Dearest Lord, I’m again with none but dreadful choices. Will you not help me?

  Elyoner kissed Virginia then placed two small toys in a rucksack for her—one, the doll Shines had made.

  Emily stood; her bloodshot eyes glistened in the firelight. “I’ve something to attend to. I shall return in a while.”

  Elyoner said, “But, Em, you must rest. We’ve so far to go.”

  “I know, but ’tis important. Now listen to me . . . carefully.”

  Elyoner and Ananias looked worriedly at one another then expectantly at Emily.

  “Do not leave the cottage . . . keep your weapons at arm’s reach.” She eyed Virginia. “And do not leave her alone for any reason.” She took a deep breath, glanced at the hourglass. “If I do not return by the departure hour, do not wait. Go as planned. Isna will take you.” Tears trickled haltingly down her cheeks.

  Elyoner started toward her, tears of confusion glistening in her eyes. She stopped, shook her head. “Emily! Pray tell, what are you telling us? What is wrong? What—”

  “Do not ask! Do exactly as I say.” She pulled Elyoner into her arms, closed her eyes, held her long and hard. When she finally eased away, she tried to smile, shook her head, turned, and rushed out the door.

  “Emily . . . Emily . . . please . . .”

  Emily walked toward Tayler’s cottage in a thickening fog. Fifty feet away, she stopped; searched for guards, saw none; rushed up to the cottage, stopped at the door, heart pounding, checked behind. Mother, make me strong. Tears poured down her cheeks, fell from her chin. God, forgive me. She opened the door, stepped inside.

  The room was dim; at first she saw no one. Suddenly she gasped, covered her mouth with her hands, stared at a man’s body lying face down on the floor by the bed. Tayler’s coat hid most of the head but not the blood pooled on the dirt beneath him. Her heart pulsed. Is it him? She stepped closer, leaned toward the body. A man’s hand suddenly cupped tightly over her mouth, snatched her head back against his chest. She mumbled a muted cry.

  A deep, husky voice said, “Tayler’s dead! Leave, tell no one!” He maneuvered Emily to the door, held her mouth with one hand while he opened the door with the other, glanced outside, shoved her out the door. “Go, do not look back!” He quickly shut the door.

  Emily ran toward the Dares’ cottage. Her heart rippled like a fluttering drum roll; but suddenly a refreshing gust of relief blew through her mind, teased her with excitement. He’s dead. I’m free! But who . . . why . . . what happened? I care not. Dear God, thank you, I’m free!

  After a sad, lingering wave at Waters, Emily led the Dares through the west gap in the palisades. Like predators, they treaded stealthily through the lifting fog, crossed the clearing, and entered the forest. All three wore rucksacks on their backs. Elyoner carried Virginia, whose rucksack had leg holes cut in the bottom; Ananias and Emily carried personal belongings, equipment, powder and shot, and a small amount of dried venison and fish. Each carried a small bladder of water, a knife, and a pistol with an unlit match, at their waist. The fog slowed their progress at first; but after a quarter mile, the moon emerged from the clouds, illuminated the forest like a celestial torch, bestowing an eerie feel to the pockets of dense fog that lingered around trees and low spots. All three stepped carefully, constantly searched for danger. As she pushed a tree branch out of the way, Emily heard Virginia cry; she stopped, looked back, saw Elyoner on the ground.

  “Help me, Ananias . . . a hole . . . stepped in a hole.”

  Ananias grasped Elyoner’s hands, pulled her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nay. I’ll be fine. Em, can you see to—”

  Emily whispered to Virginia, caressed her cheeks. “ Shhhhh, little one. Do not tell the Powhatans we’re here. Quiet now . . . that’s it. You shall be fine. Hush now. That’s it. Are you ready, Ellie?”

  “Aye, onward.”

  A quarter hour later, Emily calculated they were slightly behind schedule, needed to accelerate their pace. She glanced back over her shoulder to tell the Dares they had to go faster, instantly stopped. “Ellie, what’s wrong?”

  Elyoner stood twenty feet behind Emily and Ananias, stared spacily at the ground.

  Ananias whispered, “Ellie, what is it?”

  “I . . . I cannot do this, Ananias.” Sobs muddled her words. “I . . . I cannot.”

  “Elyoner, you must. ’Tis Virginia’s only hope.”

  “No, Ananias. I’ve thought on it all night . . . even now, here, in the
forest. I cannot do it . . . cannot desert the colony . . . Father’s colony. I’m so sorry. Forgive me.”

  “Elyoner!”

  “No! I’m the governor’s daughter. ’Tis my duty to stay . . . to the end . . . die if I must.”

  “Ellie, what are you saying? We cannot—”

  “Ananias! Stop! Take Virginia, go with Emily.” Moonlight sparkled on her moist cheeks; her voice crackled with emotion. “Go now . . . before I completely lose myself.” She wriggled out of her pack, held Virginia in front of her, stared at her with mournful, tortured eyes, then shook her head. “Why must it end this way . . . my dear, dear baby. How I love you.” She squeezed her to her breast.

  Ananias studied her then whispered softly, acquiescently, “ Elyoner, my love, I feared this would happen. You are such a noble soul.” He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “I, of course, will remain with you.” They stared solemnly at one another for a long moment, held hands, then together embraced Virginia.

  Elyoner turned slowly to Emily, tears flowing from her eyes. “Em, you are my very best friend in this world. None but you would I trust with my child . . . my dear baby!” She held Virginia tight against her breast, closed her eyes. “Ohhhhh, my child . . . my Virginia. How I love you.” She opened her glassy eyes, looked into Emily’s, slowly handed Virginia to her. “She’s yours, Em. Protect her, love her, raise her as your own. And when she’s old enough, tell her about us . . . perchance return here, show her where she was born . . . where we died.”

  Emily grasped Elyoner’s arms, shook her head. “Noooo!”

  “Do this for me, my dear, dear friend. Please, I beg you.”