Flight of the Crow (The Southeast Series Book 2)

by Paul Clayton

  Calling Crow went to the top of Turtle Hill and looked down on Spanish Town. The ship was gone but the fort was more alive than ever. They were constructing more buildings, one of them, a church.

  As he watched the comings and goings of the Spanish, listening to the distant, tiny tapping of their axes against the trees, he knew he was wasting time here out of fear. It was a fear of what he would or would not find at the dream place. Would Juana be there? He remembered his angry ultimatum on their last visit. It had been twenty days now, twenty days of anger and worry. Now the thought that she might not be there stabbed into his heart like a knife. Aieyee! What had she decided? He ran down the hill and headed to the dream place.

  Calling Crow’s heart beat faster as he pushed into the copse. Relief flooded through him when he saw her sitting on the bank. She wore a light blue, wrap-around skirt of the kind her people wore back on the island, and she had a flower tucked behind her ear. Her face was bright and pretty and he marveled at the change from the last time.

  “Happiness becomes you,” he said when she saw him.

  Juana got to her feet and they embraced.

  “What makes you shine so?” said Calling Crow.

  Juana stepped back to look at him.

  “This day is very special for us.”

  “Yes,” said Calling Crow, “it is a new beginning for us.”

  “In more ways than you think,” said Juana, and smiled.

  “What do you mean?” said Calling Crow.

  “You will soon see.” Again she smiled. She looked over at the bushes. “Father, come out, please.”

  Father Tomas, stepped out from behind the bushes.

  Calling Crow grew angry. “Why have you brought him here?” he said.

  “Because your union needs God’s blessing,” the priest said.

  Calling Crow’s anger grew hotter. Although he had some grudging respect for the Black Robe’s kindness and medicine, he resented the fact that this one had bound Juana to himself so tightly. For Juana’s sake, however, he tamped down his anger. “Why do we need that?” he said.

  “Because you are both God’s children and He loves you. He wants you to be happy, but for that you must be married.”

  Calling Crow could not hide his resentment at this meddling. The Spanish always thought they had all the answers. “What about the French people,” said Calling Crow, “does God love them?”

  The priest’s face darkened. “Of course.”

  “The same God that loves the Spanish?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why do you Spanish hate them and plan a war against them?”

  Juana put her hand on Calling Crow’s arm. “Don’t.”

  Calling Crow ignored her.

  Father Tomas looked at Calling Crow. “I don’t hate them.”

  “But the others do,” said Calling Crow.

  Father Tomas’s face grew sad. “Yes, many do. And that is wrong.”

  Calling Crow’s face darkened. “I do not understand your people.”

  The priest shook his head. “Nor do I-- sometimes.”

  Juana pulled at Calling Crow’s hand. “Say no more,” she said. “I am here because I wanted you and I to be happy. I wanted Father’s blessing on our happiness. If you want me, you will do this thing.”

  “But why?” he said. “We are already one.”

  Juana turned to the priest. “Father, please proceed.”

  Father Tomas raised his hand over their heads and made the sign of the cross. “Please kneel, both of you.”

  Calling Crow hesitated as Juana knelt in the dappled light. He did not want her to hurt any more. Besides, his own medicine was strong. What harm could this ceremony do?

  Calling Crow knelt and the priest began praying over them. Calling Crow’s anger subsided as he saw the change the ceremony brought about in Juana. The pain and sadness left her face and she looked like a young girl. The sight warmed him. Father Tomas concluded the ceremony by making the sign of the cross over them. “And now, in the sight of God, you are man and wife. Rise.”

  Calling Crow helped Juana up. Father Tomas smiled at them and walked off without a word in the direction of Spanish Town.

  They stood in silence for a while after the priest had gone.

  “You should leave this other woman now,” said Juana.

  Calling Crow said nothing.

  “Why don’t you come to live in Spanish Town?” said Juana.

  “Why don’t you come to live in the village?” he said.

  Juana laughed and Calling Crow laughed in return. They fell silent. In the distance a woodpecker rapped against a tree. Juana took Calling Crow’s hand. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long time.

  Neither of them spoke as she removed her shirt and unwrapped her skirt. He lay her gently on the sand. She put her hand behind his neck, pulling him to her. In their passion he felt the years drop away, the pain and loss, all of it falling away like leaves in the Moon of Harvest. Her hands held him tightly as she cried and called his name and they finished in a sweat and lay together for a long time without speaking.

  Chapter 36

  Black Snake, Running Wolf, and two Wolf bravos carried bundles of deer skins as they followed the man who was called Eneyah along the beach. Eneyah was a trader from the Yamasee tribe, a people living farther north. The Yamasee that had been at war periodically with the Coosa for as long as anybody could remember, but a fragile peace had been arranged the summer before and trade re-established. It was from Eneyah that Black Snake had learned that the French hairfaces were located in Yamasee territory, three days march to the north. But now the Spanish would not pay Black Snake for that information because the Spanish on the Floating House that had come had already told them.

  Black Snake and his men had been walking in the sun all morning. Now Black Snake’s hatred for Calling Crow knew no bounds, and he lived for the day when he would kill him. Running Wolf had told Black Snake that Calling Crow could only be killed with a thunderstick, and so now they were on their way to trade with the hairfaces known as the French.

  Black Snake had given Eneyah a Spanish iron knife to take them to the French. But now Black Snake wondered if the Yamasee trader really knew where the French were. He may have lied in order to get the knife, planning on slipping away on the trail. Black Snake’s face screwed up into a scowl. Or was there more to it than that, a trap perhaps? He looked warily at the forest.

  Black Snake decided that if there were any signs of treachery, the Yamasee would be the first to die. He studied Eneyah’s shoulder blades and the bones moving beneath his sweaty skin, picking out the point where he would put his arrow.

  They came within sight of a river emptying into the sea and Eneyah signaled that they should change direction. Re-entering the shady quiet of the forest, they picked up a well-worn trail and walked on. Not long afterward, Black Snake and his men were staring at a large timbered fort on the banks of the river. Two of the French hairfaces’ large Floating Houses were tethered to some timbers sticking up out of the water.

  Eneyah came back to Black Snake. “Follow me to the gate. I will speak with the French man called Vasseur. I will tell him what it is you want.”

  They walked toward the palisade and a hairy-faced man called down to them in his strange tongue. Eneyah answered as Black Snake, Running Wolf and their men waited and watched.

  Eight of the French hairfaces came out of the fort. The two in the lead gripped the hilts of their long knives and the other six were armed with thundersticks. Black Snake could not take his eyes off the thundersticks. He turned around to his men and told them to bring up the skins and put them on the ground.

  Black Snake stood tall before the French. He had brought the weight of a woman in skins and felt confident that they would trade one thunderstick for them, perhaps even two.

  As Black Snake listened to Eneyah speak with the French in their own language, he could tell that things were not going well. The French merely glanced at
the skins, not even bothering to inspect them. Eneyah continued to argue with a long-knife-carrying French. Then he turned to Black Snake. “Vasseur is not here. He would trade with us, but these men will not.”

  Black Snake pushed Eneyah aside. Even though the French hairface did not know how to speak, he, Black Snake, would make him understand. He should not have let the Yamasee speak for him.

  “We have brought many skins,” said Black Snake impatiently. “In some villages, this many skins would buy a bride. For all of this we want only one of these thundersticks, of which you have many, and the medicine that makes it kill. I have held one of these on a man and it did not kill him. The medicine was weak. You must show me how.”

  Black Snake pointed at the nearest man’s thunderstick for emphasis and found a long knife thrust in his face. Enraged, he was ready to pull his club from his belt when Running Wolfs voice stopped him.

  “Black Snake! Do nothing. Their medicine is too strong. We will have our revenge, I promise.”

  The French hairface lowered his long knife to Black Snake’s chest and pushed him back to stand with his men. The hairface then began a harangue in his crazy-sounding language.

  Black Snake looked at Eneyah, deciding that he would kill the Yamasee dog before the day was out.

  Eneyah looked away and then down at his feet as the French man continued his harangue. When the French man finished, Eneyah turned to Black Snake. “He said you must go. He said he will not trade with you.”

  Black Snake’s voice was calm, but inside he seethed with anger. “Tell them I can lead them to their enemies, the Spanish.”

  Eneyah translated and turned back to Black Snake. “They already know where they are.” Eneyah’s voice grew more agitated. “They say you should go now.”

  Black Snake turned to his men. “We go now.”

  They started walking away, but Eneyah remained with the French.

  Black Snake turned. “Why do you not come with us?”

  Eneyah blinked nervously. “No. I stay here.”

  Black Snake watched the Yamasee trader go back inside the palisade with the French. They dragged the gate closed behind them.

  Later, in the growing darkness of a forest clearing, Running Wolf chanted a curse as he looked back in the direction of the French fort.

  Black Snake said to him. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m putting a spell on them. They must be punished for their disrespect.”

  “Hah,” said Black Snake. He stared into the gathering night. “You cast your spells. My revenge will be more tangible. I will kill some of them myself.”

  Chapter 37

  In the chill of early morning, the people of New Castile spotted two ships lying off the coast. A boat put out from one and landed a half dozen men on the shore. Captain Lozano’s white hair and beard, and his ornately carved sword set him apart from the others. They walked through the sand and were met by Senor Peralta. Ignoring the growing crowd, they walked up the sandy beach and entered the palisade, going directly into Senor Peralta’s hut. Father Tomas and Senor Valdez were waiting for them there.

  Lozano gave a slight bow to Father Tomas. “Good morning, Father. I have passed your letter on to Father Altimira on the island.”

  Father Tomas’s face darkened. Father Altimira was the staunchest supporter of the big plantation owners on the island and no friend of the Indians. The Audiencia would never see that letter.

  Peralta gestured, offering Lozano a chair.

  “Gentlemen,” said Lozano, ignoring his offer, “I am happy to tell you that soon we will rid the Floridas of this un-Godly plague.”

  Peralta smiled and Valdez nodded with enthusiasm.

  “Excuse me, Sir,” said Father Tomas, “why do you speak of Christians as a plague?”

  Lozano could not hide his annoyance at the question, but kept his composure. “Well, they are Christians, yes, but they are heretics!”

  Father Tomas sat forward in his chair. “As I have already told these gentlemen, the rightness and wrongness of what these French believe is still being argued in the hallways of Rome. If the holy Fathers of the Church cannot unequivocally condemn these French, how can you?”

  Lozano was unmoved. “I am sorry, Father, but I have my orders.”

  “Father,” said Peralta, “leave this to us. This is our affair.”

  Father Tomas ignored Peralta. “Sir,” he said to Lozano, “can’t you hold off your expedition a while longer? This will soon be settled peacefully in Rome. You must wait!”

  Lozano looked at the priest. “My orders come all the way from the King himself. They must be obeyed.”

  Father Tomas got to his feet and looked at the three men. “May God forgive you all,” he said, and walked outside.

  Lozano turned to Peralta. “We will sail tomorrow to try and catch the French ships that have been spied. You and your men should be ready at first light. I estimate you can reach the area of the French settlement in two and a half days marching. Have any of your people seen it?”

  Peralta shook his head. “We’ve had scouting parties out, but we haven’t been able to pinpoint it. However, one of the local savages says he has. I don’t trust him. He may have had a hand in the disappearance of one of our men. But he is all we have. The cacique of these people has forbidden them to help us, but this fellow is a rogue. He can also provide us with some bravos. I will see him today at the trading place.”

  “Good,” said Lozano. “We need all the men we can get. We don’t know what their strength is now; they may have had more ships land since our spies last reported to us.”

  Lozano looked outside at the receding figure of the priest. He turned to Peralta, “Promise the Indians anything to get them to go. We have some extra truk on the ships. I will have the men bring it out.”

  Peralta nodded with enthusiasm.

  As Father Tomas neared the church, Juana approached. She looked worried. “They say there are many soldiers and horses on the ships.”

  “Si,” said Father Tomas. “They sail tomorrow.”

  Juana turned to look at the ships as they rose and fell slightly at anchor. “Is it right, Father?” she said. “I have heard that there are women and children at the French fort; that it is not just soldiers.”

  Father Tomas sighed. “No. I don’t think it is right, but I seem to be alone in this opinion.”

  Juana shook her head. “It cannot be right. They don’t attack the native people for being non-believers.”

  “Si,” said Father Tomas, “they spared them because they have never been given the true teachings. But these people have. And they have turned away-- or so it is said.”

  Father Tomas looked out at the ships. “But, to do this, when there are women and children-- “ His voice trailed off in worrying tones. He put his hand on Juana’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about this. And you have another little life inside of you to think about now.”

  Juana seemed not to hear him.

  “Come to the church with me,” said Father Tomas. “We will pray.”

  Juana looked over at the dark mass of trees visible beyond the palisade walls. “Someone should warn these French.” She looked at Father Tomas. “That would not be wrong, would it?”

  Father Tomas frowned as he shook his head. “I do not know. Come. We will ask for God’s guidance.”

  Father Tomas started toward the cane walls of the church. Juana remained where she was, looking at the ships and the growing crowd of excited people talking of the coming attack.

  At the trading place, Peralta, Valdez and Salazar spotted Black Wolf and one of his bravos standing in the shade. Peralta signaled to the Indian that he wanted to talk in private. The three Spaniards walked out into the field followed by the two bravos.

  Senor Peralta tried to hide his dislike of Black Snake as he said to Salazar. “Tell him we go tomorrow to attack the French. I will give one iron knife for each man he provides to accompany us. We will require thirty.”

  Peralta wa
ited till Salazar had translated. He pointed to the harquebus in Valdez’s hands. “Tell him that I will give him a thunderstick at the conclusion of the attack.”

  Black Snake stepped close to inspect the weapon suspiciously. He spoke to Salazar.

  “What did he say?” said Peralta.

  Salazar frowned. “He said he wants the thunderstick and also the magic which makes it kill.”

  “What nonsense is that?” demanded Peralta.

  “He wants shot, powder, and instruction on how to load and fire it.”

  Peralta nodded and smiled. “Tell him he shall have it all when the attack is over.”

  Salazar translated Peralta’s words.

  Black Snake’s face was inscrutable as he replied. “We will be at your gate when the sun wakes up.”

  Chapter 38

  Father Tomas spent the night in prayer. Juana’s questions had so preyed on his conscience that he could not sleep. He came out into the bright light of morning and went to find her. He could not, and after asking several women her whereabouts to no avail, he decided that she must have gone to her and Calling Crow’s meeting place. He left the palisade and entered the forest. In the chapel-like quiet of the meeting place, there was no one. He waited for a while, quietly praying that perhaps he had missed her along the way and that she would show up. But the day wore on and she did not come. As he stood to go he saw the coin. It had been there all along. In fact, he must have stepped on it when he arrived, driving it deeper into the dust. Now a beam of light illuminated it and it gleamed like a jewel. He bent and picked it up to inspect it. As he read the inscription on its face, his heart raced. Poor Juana. He must tell her Indian husband, Calling Crow, right away.

  Father Tomas hurried through the forest. The shadows were long and the air had a throat-catching stillness to it. Rain rattled on the high trees overhead. He stopped, waiting for it to come down, but the trees absorbed most of it and only a few drips penetrated the canopy. He moved on. He lost the trail but kept going in an easterly direction. That was what the bravo at the trading place had told him to do the day before. If the bravo had been lying, he would have to spend the night in the forest. The prospect did not bother him nearly as much as what would happen if he did not find Juana’s husband, Calling Crow.