Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  The alligator sensed the moment Pedro lost consciousness and stopped its twisting. With the body clamped firmly between its jaws, it swam down-river, its raised eyes searching the banks for a safe place to hide its meal until it ripened.

  Chapter 28

  In the courtyard between Green Bird Woman’s houses, Calling Crow knelt as he pegged a deer skin into the earth. A slight breeze moved through the shadows cast by the huts. He went into the house to get a scraper. Green Bird Woman was there, but kept her back to him and he sensed that she was troubled.

  She turned to carry one of her pots out of the hut and brushed against him as she passed.

  “Are you not well?” he asked her.

  She turned to him. “What do you mean?”

  “You walk like someone who is in pain,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said in an angry tone, “lately I am in much pain. My arms ache to hold a boy child in them. That is the pain.”

  Calling Crow felt himself growing angry. “Then why don’t you get big with child? What is wrong?”

  Green Bird Woman’s face grew dark with anger and hurt. “What is wrong is that you don’t mount me enough. Maybe you are spilling your seed somewhere else. That is what is wrong.”

  Calling Crow wondered if she knew about Juana. Juana would not couple with him at all, and stayed willingly in the Spanish camp. Green Bird Woman would not know that, however. He said nothing to Green Bird Woman, looking instead out at the dusty courtyard to see if anyone had overheard them. “We couple enough,” he said, “I’m afraid that you must be broken inside.”

  Green Bird Woman looked around for something to throw at Calling Crow and he left.

  A fire burned inside Calling Crow as he walked the hot streets of Aguacay. He headed for Sees Far’s house. Things were becoming bad fast. Surely he and Green Bird Woman coupled frequently enough. What was wrong? It seemed almost as if a spell had been cast to prevent them from having a child. Did Green Bird Woman’s slave Santee cast a spell, he wondered.

  Sees Far had Calling Crow carry him on his back to the sweat house. Going inside, Calling Crow sat him down on the highest platform and sat next to him. They waited without talking as the young men who attended the hot house began to bring in the hot rocks.

  “Black Snake has been speaking against you to some of the Bear Clan bravos,” said Sees Far.

  Calling Crow watched a young man carry in a hot rock held in a thick, forked stick. “It is of no consequence,” he said.

  “Perhaps not yet,” said Sees Far, “but if it creates hate in the hearts of those who hear, you had better keep track of it.”

  Calling Crow grunted in agreement. “Sees Far, I have wanted to leave here from the beginning, but I promised Green Bird Woman that before I left I would help her make a baby. I think she has tricked me. I think she is incapable of bearing a child.”

  Sees Far shook his head, his eyes staring into the warm mist that now climbed toward them from the rock pit. “You should stay. You came to us because there are dangers only you can protect us from. Your medicine is powerful and the spirits look kindly upon you. With the proper guidance, you could become the most powerful man in the village.”

  “Will you help me then?” said Calling Crow.

  “Yes. Let us beseech for a vision. Much has happened and more trouble is on the way.”

  It grew hotter as the mist swirled around them. Sees Far began beating his turtle drum and singing. Calling Crow joined in and soon time was marked only by the coming and going of the young men who entered to bring in the hot rocks and to pour calabashes of water over them to make steam.

  The heat intensified and Calling Crow grew dizzy. His head felt strange. He turned to tell Sees Far. He fell backward and down, the earth swallowing him up. Turning end over end, he landed on his back. He felt a wetness on his chest and saw that a small sapling had punctured it and blood was flowing from the wound. The blood flowed down his belly into a small gully. From there it flowed down a canyon and became a stream and then a wide river. He heard noises and saw many people paddling in small dugout canoes. The canoes were in black silhouette as they glided toward the rising sun. Golden light glinted off the wet paddles. They were his people and he wanted to go with them.

  Calling Crow heard a bold voice telling the people to lash their canoes together and they did, becoming a single ship, much like the Spanish ships. He realized that it was his own voice, and he found himself on the ship. He looked over the rail. Where he had been laying, a strong young man now stood. There was something vaguely familiar about the young man’s face. The man waved a farewell to Calling Crow and Calling Crow waved in return. The young man appeared saddened as he watched Calling Crow sail out of sight.

  Calling Crow woke to find himself back in the sweat house beside Sees Far. The attendant entered with more rocks and Sees Far raised his hand to stop him. The young man left and Sees Far turned to Calling Crow.

  “I did not realize how strong your medicine power was,” said Sees Far in admiration. “You prayed to find a woman and the Great Spirit gave you two!”

  “You know?” said Calling Crow.

  Sees Far laughed. “Yes. I know you have another woman, but I don’t know who she is. Do not worry though. No one else knows and I will not tell anyone.”

  Calling Crow said nothing as he waited for Sees Far to go on.

  “You prayed because you were alone, without a people, and now you have a people. Ho! It is good.”

  Calling Crow turned and looked into Sees Far’s black eyes. “I, too, have had a vision.” Calling Crow told Sees Far about falling into the earth, and about the canoes becoming a ship, and of the strange young man. When Calling Crow finished, Sees Far was silent for a long time.

  Finally Calling Crow asked. “What does it mean?”

  Sees Far started, as if he had been asleep. He shook his head slightly. “I am not sure. It is very strange. I know one thing, however.”

  “What is that?” said Calling Crow.

  “The young man is your son.”

  “But I have no son.”

  “You will,” said Sees Far. “I see him in your woman’s arms.”

  “Green Bird Woman?”

  Sees Far nodded. “Yes. Green Bird Woman.”

  Chapter 29

  The sun set, suffusing the sky with rose-colored light. Juana stood before a cook fire with a woman named Maria. The air cooled and people began to move about. Juana looked over at the new church Father Tomas had begun building. Constructed of timbers and adobe, its thick walls would soon be completed. Then work would begin on the roof. Father Tomas had confided to Juana his desire to build a steeple and bring in a bell from Santo Domingo. As soon as contact with Hispaniola was re-established, he would order that one be cast.

  The deer that Juana and Maria were cooking dripped fat and the fire flared. Juana called to Maria, who had sat down to inspect the calluses on her hands. “Maria, help me to raise the meat up. It will burn if we don’t.”

  “Si.” Maria got to her feet.

  They secured the spit with cord. Juana thought that the game had come at a dear price-- dozens of shirts and iron knives. But the colony needed meat badly and so Senor Peralta had ordered them to barter it from the Coosa. The Coosa had become shrewd traders.

  Juana heard a commotion. People were running toward the sea. Before she or Maria could voice their thought, dingy white sails could be seen gliding behind the trees in the distance.

  “Madre de Dios,” said Maria, making the sign of the cross, “a ship! We are saved!”

  She ran off and Juana stared in wonder at the distant ship now hoving to as it prepared to drop its anchor. No one had expected a ship in the month of September. It was the month when the most violent storms came up suddenly, sinking any ships caught out on the open sea. Thank God, she thought, smiling broadly. He had heard their prayers, just as Father Tomas had said. She damped down the fire and joined the others who were shouting and running toward the beach.
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  By the time she got to the surf, a boat had already put off and was almost to the shore. Soon an older man stepped from the boat and waded through the surf. Juana recognized him as a military man from Santo Domingo, an acquaintance of Senor Peralta’s, Captain Lozano.

  Captain Lozano ignored the people crowding around him in the sand. He knelt and made the sign of the cross, bowing his head. The sea breeze moved his soft white beard as his lips moved silently in prayer. Senors Peralta and Valdez ran up, pushing through the people. Captain Lozano made the sign of the cross and stood. He looked around at the people and spotted Peralta. Peralta and Valdez bowed and Peralta stepped forward to shake Lozano’s hand. Lozano looked at the growing crowd.

  “Thank God you are all safe!” he said with a vigorous voice belying his age.

  The crowd waited and Lozano’s brow furrowed. “I have news of great import.” He waited till the people pushed in closer. “The French Heretics who have invaded the territory of Spain, these very lands of Florida, have been located!”

  “Hooray!” shouted several people.

  “Where?” shouted some men, pressing forward. One of them looked around as if the French might be hiding behind the nearest group of trees. His agitation frightened Juana so much that she stepped back a bit.

  Lozano shook his head. “I cannot tell you exactly where. They are quite a distance to the north of us, at the mouth of a river.”

  “How did you find out?” said an older man in a worried voice.

  Lozano’s face grew somber. “As you know, the French buccaneers have been sailing around the Caribbean, freeing Negro and Indian slaves in the hopes of fostering rebellion, violating and robbing our churches. We recently captured some and it did not take much to make them talk. They told us everything we need to know. At this very moment, Excellency Don Zamora is in Spain raising a force to lead against them. He may have already sailed. When he arrives with the attack force, some of you will be asked to join it!”

  The crowd cheered. People spoke excitedly among themselves.

  “Now,” said Lozano tiredly, “Senor Peralta and I must go to his quarters. We have much to discuss.”

  In the near-total blackness of night, Father Tomas felt old and tired as he sat in the prow of the boat, his head whipsawing back and forth as the sailors pulled at their oars. The oars creaked in their locks, the blades lapping the sea. He looked at the soldier standing in the stern of the boat, holding a torch aloft as he guided the boat toward the distant lantern of the ship. The man’s face was lit with grim hatred. Father Tomas had seen that face on all the men of the settlement as they contemplated the planned attack on the French. Full of fear and hate, they could no longer hear him and he would have to rely on his own prayers and actions. There was not much else he could do.

  The boat bumped into the ship with a dull thump and the soldier with the torch helped Father Tomas up the ship’s ladder.

  Father Tomas climbed onto the waist of the ship into a noisy maelstrom of activity. Orders were being shouted back and forth as men rushed about loading up the boat he had just left with supplies for the return trip to the beach. Father Tomas grabbed the arm of one of the passing sailors.

  The man bowed slightly in respect.

  “Where is Captain Lozano?”

  The man pointed to the cabin at the top of the stairs on the poop deck. Father Tomas climbed the stairs and opened the door. He sat down across the desk from the old soldier. “I think you know why I am here,” he said.

  Captain Lozano nodded. “Senor Peralta has told me that you and he have had a disagreement.”

  Father Tomas leaned forward in his chair. “Senor Peralta kidnapped the cacique of the people who live in these lands. This is plainly against the laws of the Council of the Indies. I intend to bring charges against him.”

  Captain Lozano’s response was cool and measured. “Senor Peralta says that he invited the cacique to the fort for talks and that the man came willingly.”

  Father Tomas’s face reddened. “That is a lie and you know it.”

  Lozano shook his head. “He has several witnesses. All the men who accompanied him on his, ah, mission, have sworn it. I am sorry, Father. I can find no basis for criminal charges.” Father Tomas got to his feet. As he looked at the old soldier, words failed him and he was horrified at a sudden urge he had to leap across the desk and strike the man. Instead, he walked out the door.

  Climbing back down to the waist, Father Tomas saw two well-dressed men looking over the rail of the ship. He approached the nearest one. “Where is the pilot?” he said.

  “Here,” said the man, pointing to the man next to him. In the torchlight, the man’s doublet had a sheen to it, as if made of silk.

  “Pilot?” said Father Tomas.

  The man nodded. “Si, Father. What can I do for you?”

  Father Tomas looked up at the closed door of Lozano’s cabin, then back at the pilot. “Are you a good Catholic?”

  “Of course, Father,” said the man. “Why do you ask?”

  “Never mind. What do you think of the French Protestants?”

  The man looked puzzled. “I do not know, Father. I have heard of them, but I am confused. I do not know what to think.”

  Father Tomas searched the man’s face in the flickering light.

  “Time to board,” came a shout, “all those going ashore-- “

  Father Tomas shouted over to the sailors by the ladder. “I will be right there. Hold the boat.”

  Father Tomas handed the pilot a sealed letter. “You must deliver this to the Audiencia of Santo Domingo for me.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  Father Tomas looked once more deep into the man’s eyes and then walked to the rail. He climbed down into the boat.

  Chapter 30

  As Calling Crow neared the dream place, he again had the feeling of being followed. He ran fast, daring anyone hiding in ambush to show themselves. The forest remained quiet and he slowed to a walk. He thought he heard the faint cry of a wolf in the distance and paused to listen, but it did not come again. Perhaps it had been the call of a bird. Sometimes the wind and trees bent a sound. He stood still as he listened. Satisfied, he ran on.

  Calling Crow came to the dream place and pushed into the copse. Juana was there. She wore a Spanish mantilla over her head as she sat on the bank of the pond. She appeared worried when she saw him. She got to her feet and they embraced.

  “A ship has come,” she said.

  “When?”

  “Not long ago. I came early thinking you might already be here.”

  Calling Crow said nothing as he thought of the possible consequences. The Spanish would have food now, and that would lessen tensions. But there would be an expectation on the part of some of the Coosa that the Spanish would go. That was now unlikely. Black Snake would seize upon this and try and stir up the people.

  “Are people going back on the ship?” he said.

  “Some,” said Juana, “the old and the sick, but few of the others have expressed a desire to leave. The have assured us that there will be more ships coming after the storm season has passed.”

  Calling Crow said nothing.

  “There was some disturbing news from the ship.”

  “What?”

  “They said that they have found the location of the French who they say have invaded their territory.”

  “Their territory?” said Calling Crow in incredulity.

  “You know, they believe that it is theirs. They say that the top holy man of the Catholic Church, the Pope, divided the new world between the Spanish and the Portuguese, but gave none to the French.”

  “I have heard the crazy story,” said Calling Crow. So now the Spanish are going to attack these French for invading lands that the Spanish have no right to in the first place.”

  “No. The Spanish are going to attack because the French are heretics.”

  Calling Crow had heard this word once before but had forgotten its meaning. “Does ‘her
etic’ mean they do not believe in God and Mother Mary and the Jesus?”

  Juana frowned as she struggled to explain. “No. They believe in Jesus, Mother Mary, and God, but they do not believe in the power of the Pope.”

  Calling Crow frowned in confusion. “And for that the Spanish are going to attack them?”

  Juana nodded. “They hate them very much. I do not really understand it myself. I will talk to Father Tomas and ask him to help me understand. Then I will teach it to you.”

  Calling Crow shook his head. “Aieyee! Don’t bother. I don’t want to know. This is why you should not stay with the Spanish any longer. They told us that white people believed in but one God, and that there was but one religion. And now we see that they disagree about that, and so strongly that they would kill one another over it. See how crazy they are? Now, with all this threatening talk, your situation there is becoming more dangerous.”

  Calling Crow sat and pulled her down beside him. He looked into her eyes. “Leave them now and come with me.”

  Juana frowned. “I will think about it. I promise. Let us talk no more of it now, though. I just want you to hold me.”

  Calling Crow put his arms around her. They stared into the green leaves, alone with their thoughts.

  Jacques Dumarr moved between the trees without a sound as his Cheraqui friends had taught him. The one that called himself Calling Crow was up ahead. Jacques thought blackly of the bear and the niggardly portion the Indian had given them. They had been in dire straits then. Their fool of a Governor had offended the Cheraqui and they had turned against them, no longer bringing them food. All the meat on that bear would have gone far in keeping many more alive-- Jacques forced himself to leave the thought there. To revisit that memory would be too painful.