Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  Calling Crow awoke in blackness. He did his best to ignore the pain as he pulled himself up to lean against the hut and watch the day come. In the pale light, the square looked like a battlefield. Smoke from spent fires drifted low over the bodies that lay strewn about on the packed earth. Calling Crow saw two men that had died from the drink. Contorted from their death spasms, they smiled grotesquely at their final death visions. The living moaned in pain and would be unable to move their arms and legs for the rest of the morning. Green Bird Woman and Santee appeared in the gloom. They took his arms and helped him to his feet.

  “Come,” said Green Bird Woman. “They have decided to let you attend the council. You’ll need some medicine if you are to stand for long.” They led him off in the direction of the huts.

  Later that day the bravos that had recovered sufficiently entered the council house after the elders had already gone inside. Calling Crow sat on the outer perimeter of the circle of bravos.

  Atina’s face was solemn as he sat, flanked by the four elders. A calabash of burning herbs sat on a large rock before them, a thin wisp of smoke rising from it. Running Wolf and the other medicine men each dropped more sacred grasses and herbs into the calabash, thickening the smoke into a rippling column as big around as a man’s head. One of the medicine men began pounding a turtle shell drum as the others sang a song beseeching the ancestors for guidance. Atina raised his hand for silence. He spoke.

  “Black Snake, you watched the invaders set up their camp. Tell us what you saw.”

  Black Snake used his lance to help himself to his feet. He swayed slightly as he faced the council. “They are camped in the valley between the Turtle Hills and the sea.” Using his lance, Black Snake drew a wavy line representing the sea in the dirt. He then drew some circles representing the hills and two other lines coming from between them for creeks. He drew two smaller circles. “They have built two big huts here, but many of their people are still sleeping on the beach.”

  “How many are there?” said Atina.

  “Not even half as many as live here in Aguacay. They are mostly men. I do not know where their women are.”

  Atina nodded. “Kicking Dog. You also watched them from the hills. Is Black Snake’s assessment a good one?”

  Kicking Dog got to his feet. “Yes. It is just as he says.”

  Calling Crow raised his hand. The other bravos looked askance at him for daring to ask to speak at his first council meeting.

  Atina ignored Calling Crow and addressed Kicking Dog. “You may sit now.” He turned to Black Snake who had again raised his hand to speak.

  “Black Snake, speak.”

  Black Snake got to his feet. Before he could speak, Calling Crow coughed quietly. Heads turned and Black Snake glanced at him in curiosity.

  “Cacique,” said Black Snake, turning back to Atina. “I was the first of our people to see the invaders. I claim the right to deal with them.”

  “How?”

  “This way!” Black Snake turned his lance point down and scratched out the lines representing the settlement. “Rub them out now before they get thick!”

  Kicking Dog and the other Wolf society bravos nodded and voiced their agreement.

  Sees Far raised his hand and Atina recognized him.

  “Black Snake,” said Sees Far, “these whites are shaped like us, are they not?”

  “Yes, uncle,” said Black Snake.

  “Do they walk upright?”

  “Yes.”

  “They might be people,” said Sees Far. He looked around at the group. “We should wait and watch them for a while.”

  “No,” said Black Snake, “we should attack in the morning. Then it-- “

  Calling Crow coughed softly, then raised his hand.

  Black Snake turned and stared at him in disbelief. “We should attack!” he said angrily, and sat.

  Atina looked around at the bravos. “Calling Crow badly wishes to speak. The words in his throat are scratching to get out. Shall he speak?”

  “No! No!,” shouted the majority of the bravos. Only a few said yes.

  Rain Cloud raised his hand.

  Atina nodded. “Rain Cloud, you may speak.”

  Rain Cloud got to his feet. “I give my right to speak to Calling Crow.”

  Rain Cloud sat again.

  Heads turned and muttering spread through the hut. Atina’s face gave no indication of how he felt about this turn.

  Calling Crow did not wait for the commotion to subside. He got to his feet. His unadorned body contrasted sharply with the decorative tattoos of the other bravos. He ignored the others as he spoke to Atina. “To attack the whites would be unwise,” he said in a loud voice so all could hear.

  Atina said nothing in response as he regarded Calling Crow.

  Black Snake almost fell as he pushed himself to his feet. “Unwise? Calling Crow, I was wrong to speak bad about you when you first came here. You have won much praise since you have been among us. But you are not one of us. And it is you who speaks unwisely.”

  Black Snake turned and pleaded with Atina. “Cacique, he should not be allowed to speak any longer.”

  Atina frowned. “Are we so weak now that we should fear the words of one man?”

  Black Snake wore a puzzled look as he fought for words. Giving up, he sat back down.

  Atina addressed himself to Calling Crow. “You may continue.”

  “I had a vision last night,” said Calling Crow, pausing.

  The men in the hut quieted to listen. A man’s visions deserved a thoughtful hearing.

  “I was walking through the forest,” continued Calling Crow, “and I saw a dying panther.”

  Because the panther was their tribe’s totem animal, the bravos in the hut broke into worried discussions.

  Atina held up his hand and the talking died.

  Black Snake raised his hand and was recognized by Atina. “Now that you have told us your dream,” he said to Calling Crow, “tell us why an attack would be unwise.”

  “Because of the consequences.” Calling Crow looked from Black Snake to Atina, and then to the bravos. “Yes, your bravos could kill many white people, but many more of your people will die afterwards.”

  “Why?” said Black Snake.

  “Because an attack on the white people will bring wave after wave of them here in their ships. They will prevail because they are very numerous and have very powerful medicine for which you have no defense.”

  Kicking Dog called out from where he sat. “This is women’s talk. Don’t listen to him. We must push the whites back into the sea before it is too late.”

  Atina waved Kicking Dog to silence. Atina’s face was hard as stone as he eyed Calling Crow. “Your words would mean more to us if we knew more about you. You have not been with us long and we cannot know if you speak true or not. What medicine do the whites have?”

  Calling Crow thought of the powerful horses that could run a man down, the terrible thunder and power of the cannons, shootingsticks that could frighten those who had never encountered them before into immobility. He looked around at the assembly. “Great medicine dogs, as high at the shoulder as a man’s head, long sticks that issue thunder and lightning. Many bravos have already seen one of their giant houses that float on the sea. They have many more medicine things.”

  Atina frowned. “But what can you show us?”

  Calling Crow prayed to his spirit guide for help as he looked around the hut at the bravos. He noticed the stone axe looped over Black Snake’s shoulder and he knew he had his answer. He turned to Atina. “Tell Black Snake to give me his axe.”

  Black Snake frowned in puzzlement. “What nonsense is this?”

  Atina’s face betrayed nothing. “Give him the axe.”

  Black Snake handed the axe to Calling Crow and he lay it on the rock beside Atina. Calling Crow then took off the iron axe that hung from a hide thong looped around his own neck. It was quiet in the hut as the men watched his every move suspiciously.

/>   Calling Crow held his axe high for all to see. He rubbed its rounded, mottled blue surface affectionately. “This is Spanish iron. They make knives from it too, knives long and sharp enough to cut a man in half in one stroke. I have seen this with my own eyes.” Calling Crow brought his axe down, smashing Black Snake’s axe to bits. Black Snake and several of his bravos leapt to their feet.

  “That is what will happen to your weapons,” said Calling Crow.

  Black Snake’s face twisted in anger. He stepped toward Calling Crow.

  “Stop!” said Atina, and Black Snake froze.

  Atina’s face was grave as he reached for the shaft of the iron axe in Calling Crow’s hand. “Let me see.”

  Calling Crow gave him the axe.

  Atina caressed it with his fingers. He shook it. “It is heavier than our stone, harder.”

  Calling Crow nodded.

  Atina gave the axe back. “What other weapons do they possess?”

  “Thundersticks,” said Calling Crow. “They have only to point one at you and it erupts in thunder and flame and you drop down dead.”

  Atina’s brow furrowed with concern as he looked over at Black Snake. “Did you see any of these thundersticks that Calling Crow speaks of?”

  Black Snake scoffed. “Some of them were carrying long sticks, but we saw no thunder or fire, nothing.”

  Atina looked back at Calling Crow. “If we allow them to make their camp on our lands and do nothing, then other white people may come.”

  Calling Crow nodded. “Yes, if they stay for a long time, then others may be tempted. But the whites will be gone before long. I tell you true. To defend your land, you need do nothing. The whites will go away.”

  Black Snake shouted. “Cacique, even if they have all this medicine, my men are very brave. Together with the other villages we can rub them out in one fight.”

  Calling Crow turned to him. “Perhaps, but more will come until this place is infested with them. Then the Coosa will be pushed off their lands!”

  Black Snake’s crossed eyes narrowed in angry suspicion as he faced Calling Crow.

  Atina’s calm voice cut through the quiet like a thunderbolt.

  “Black Snake, you have had your turn to speak. Sit down.”

  Atina turned back to Calling Crow. “Your words are confusing to us. How will doing nothing drive the strangers away?”

  “Because the whites do not know the ways of the land here. They will have to come to you for food and help. I know this, for I lived among them when I was their slave. If you stay well away from them and do not trade with them, they will dry up and blow away. This I swear to you. But if you attack them, ten times more of them will come and it will be the end of you and your people.” Calling Crow sat.

  Atina looked at the bravos. “You have had your say. Now the old men and I must decide.” Atina turned and spoke softly with the old men. Only those in the front could hear what was said and they dared not turn round to tell the others. Then Atina stood and faced the assembly.

  “For now we will leave the white people unmolested as Calling Crow has suggested. He seems wise in these matters and it will cost us nothing in blood, so we will do it.”

  The hut erupted in an angry, noisy tumult.

  Atina lifted his arms and the hut grew silent again. He looked at Calling Crow. “We do this because you seem to be a good man and you have great medicine.” He looked at Black Snake. “But if it does not work then you will not be safe here.” Atina looked around at all the people. “For now, everyone must stay away from the whites. We must do all we can so that they will not even know we are here. That is all.”

  The young men and bravos got to their feet and moved out of the hut. Black Snake glared at Calling Crow and Rain Cloud and the other Fox society bravos as they walked off.

  Calling Crow lay in a deep sleep on the bear skin in Green Bird Woman’s darkened house. Something brushed his face. His heart leapt as a round shape hovered over him— Green Bird Woman’s seemingly disembodied head, backlit by the glow of the fire. Calling Crow reached for her but his arms were still numb from the black drink and would not move. He realized that if anyone other than her had gotten this close to him this night, he would be dead.

  Green Bird Woman spoke to him in a whisper. “You made them listen. A stranger, and they listened to you.”

  Calling Crow felt the familiar heat of her soft body as she lay beside him. Then he was vaguely aware of a sound outside.

  Green Bird Woman sat up suddenly. “Do you hear it?” she said. “A spirit calls out in the night!”

  “What?” Calling Crow forced himself up. He heard nothing at first, then a moaning like a dying man would make, floated on the cool night air. He got to his feet.

  Green Bird Woman squeezed his arm. “Don’t go out there,” she said. “It is a spirit! Don’t go!”

  Calling Crow went to the entryway as Green Bird Woman held onto him. He stared into the blackness. A figure lurched into view under the dim starlight. It was Black Snake. His face wild and contorted, he stretched out his arms and beckoned to Green Bird Woman.

  “Crazy man!” she hissed, disappearing back into the hut.

  Calling Crow stared at Black Snake in amazement. The bravo must have had more of the black drink. He seemed unaware of Calling Crow and could hardly keep his feet.

  Green Bird Woman pushed past Calling Crow. She threw one of her pots at Black Snake, hitting him in the head. He stumbled away into the blackness.

  Calling Crow went back to his pallet and lay down. The world spun above him. The people around here were all crazy, he thought. The world was crazy this night.

  Green Bird Woman sat beside him. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. Her voice came out of the blackness. “The Great Spirit has smiled upon us.”

  Calling Crow did not know what she meant. Was this strong, handsome woman going crazy too? He said nothing. She crept over to where Bright Eyes’ pallet was. Then she returned to Calling Crow.

  “Your seed has taken root inside me,” she said. “I am carrying your child.”

  Calling Crow’s eyes blinked in wonder. A child! His feelings about this surprised him. He was happy for Green Bird Woman. He knew how much she wanted a child. But he, too, was happy. The child was a blessing from the Great Spirit. He thought of his quest to find Juana and it seemed like a dream now. His life with her had been good, but that was a long time ago. Even if he had gone on and managed to get to the Spanish island, it would have been almost impossible to find her. And, although he didn’t want to think about the possibility, she might be dead.

  A child! He warmed at the thought that inside the belly of this woman who lay beside him was a little life. He had helped to plant it there. Aieyee! His own life in this new place was good now. He would live it!

  Chapter 7

  Rain fell from thick gray clouds. Not far from the cluster of palmetto-thatch roofed huts that had been given the hopeful name New Castile, men and women walked through the fields, pausing from time to time to kneel and dig up roots. The men wore their breeches pulled up over their knees, and the gowns of the women were torn and muddy, their hair hanging long and sodden at their breasts.

  In one group, a woman who was not Spanish, Juana of the Arawak people, paused in her digging and looked out to sea. She thought of how much she and others had cried when the ship that brought them here had left. Now she searched for a sail, but knew she would not see one. The re-supply ship was long overdue and the people were saying none would set out until after the season of storms had passed.

  Juana’s dark eyes looked back down at the raindrops plopping into the muddy earth. It was the third day of rain now and it seemed as if the storm would wash the entire settlement into the sea. She stared into a puddle and thought of the day on the ship her child had been born. A sad day. Yes, even Heaven had wept with her that day.

  Juana brushed a wet strand of hair from her eyes as she dug up what the Spanish called, Indian turnip.
She did not know what the people here called them. In her village they were called kuyuhi. She had shown the others how to recognize them by their leaves. They had already harvested their corn. It didn’t amount to much. But, together with the turnips, they were hoping it would get them through the winter.

  It was November, four months since she had arrived here with the other believers. On the island of Hispaniola, when she had first heard of this settlement, she had had no desire to come. But then the dreams had started. They came every night. In them a black bird guided her to a quiet pond in a hidden glade. She was bathing in its warm water when she felt a presence. She turned and there was Calling Crow, tall and handsome, his face warm, like the rising sun. Then the dreams stopped. Afterwards, she found herself going down to the sea every day to stare into the distance. Was he calling her?

  She had sought out her priest, Father Tomas, and begged to go to the settlement that Senor Peralta was starting in the Floridas. Father Tomas needed an interpreter and had wanted to know how she felt about converting the local Indians. She had assured him that she was going for that very reason, but there was that other reason, the dreams. The dreams had awakened a wild hope in her that maybe she and Calling Crow could somehow find one another again near the place where she had last seen him. Back then, soldiers from De Sole’s doomed expedition had beaten him and dragged him up the beach as they restrained her in the boat. Then they took her out to the ship. She could still see the track his body left in the sand.