by Paul Clayton
The Englishman looked at them in surprise. “I thought I heard voices.”
Red Feather shouted at Samuel in Muskogee. Samuel moved backward, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What is he saying?”
“He says,” said Calling Crow, “that you will kill us all.”
“Has he gone mad?” said Samuel.
As Calling Crow was about to reply, a terrified scream cut through the still summer air. It was Bright Eyes. All three men pushed through the bushes and out onto the trail. Samuel was the first to reach her. She knelt in a clearing, blood running down her neck and arm. Samuel knelt beside her and she embraced him, crying. Red Feather looked away in anger. Samuel inspected her wound closely. A cut ran along the line of her jaw, causing much blood to run out, but it was not a fatal wound. Samuel stanched the flow of blood with the palm of his hand.
Calling Crow and Red Feather went out onto the trail. Red Feather knelt to inspect the earth. “The one who did this is alone,” he said to Calling Crow. “I will run him down.”
“No,” said Calling Crow. He put his hand on the younger man’s arm. “They will be waiting down the trail. We will punish them later.”
Samuel helped Bright Eyes to her feet, continuing to press his hand against her cheek to stanch the flow of blood. Red Feather’s face darkened with anger. He glared at Samuel and went to Bright Eyes. “Who did this to you?” he demanded.
Bright Eyes would not look at Red Feather. “The one with the arrow in his hair.” She looked at her father. “He said to tell you that he will be back before the second corn harvest.”
Samuel started to lead Bright Eyes away.
Red Feather blocked his path. “You left her unprotected!”
Samuel addressed Calling Crow, ignoring Red Feather. “I did not think it would be dangerous this close to the village.”
Calling Crow’s face was dark. “Now that the Timucua have shooting sticks, it is becoming more dangerous for all my people. They will stop coming here only when we, too, have shooting sticks.”
Samuel frowned. “I will leave one of our muskets with you and your village. We can discuss trading for more later.”
“Yes,” said Calling Crow, “that is good. Take Bright Eyes to her mother. We will talk more of this trade when I return.”
Samuel and Bright Eyes said nothing as they walked quickly back to the village. When they were within sight of the palisade, Samuel said, “Red Feather cares greatly for you. How long has he wanted you?”
Bright Eyes looked down. “Since my husband died.”
Samuel said nothing.
“And what about you?” said Bright Eyes, “how long have you wanted me?”
“Since I first saw you-- “
“And now?” said Bright Eyes.
Samuel said nothing. He thought of the turn things had taken. Red Feather was becoming unstable, threatening to damage his relationship with Calling Crow. And he had hinted at trading more muskets to Calling Crow and his people. And then there was his wife and daughter back home-- Despite his strong attraction to Bright Eyes, getting involved with her was wrong for many reasons.
“I think I should stay away from you,” he said finally. “I’m afraid I bring you only bad luck.”
Bright Eyes said nothing as they entered the village palisade.
Chapter 13
They were standing in the square ground of the village. The morning dew was still on the grass, the sun not yet having risen over the distant trees. John, Breuger and Miles had just come up from the river and Samuel had told them of his intention to leave a musket with Calling Crow, and to discuss trading for more.
“You’re not serious, brother,” said John.
“I am,” said Samuel. “They are threatened now by this other tribe the Spanish are arming. Just the other day Calling Crow’s daughter was attacked by one of them.”
“Arming them could be dangerous for any ship calling here,” said Breuger calmly.
Samuel scoffed. “There will not be any ships calling here. And I shall give them only enough powder and shot as they require for hunting their game, and defending their village from attackers. And when they need more shot, they’ll have to trade with us for it.”
“What has he to trade for muskets?” scoffed John. “More corn?”
“There is much in the way of merchantable commodities here,” said Samuel, “if you have eyes to see it.”
John scoffed.
Samuel pointed to the tall trees around them. “Our choicest forests in England have long ago fallen to the farmer’s axe. Look at all this lumber for shipping, for masts!”
John looked at Miles. “So now we’re to take the forests home with us, are we?”
Miles chuckled.
Samuel turned to Breuger. “I’m sure you have noticed their excellent deerskin garments, as I have. Their deerskins are of a high quality. We would do very well with them in the London markets.”
Breuger nodded. “I agree.”
John scoffed disparagingly. “You agree? The savages would never be able to get us enough to make the venture worthwhile!”
“Just yesterday,” said Samuel, “I watched five braves bring in seven deer, big creatures too.”
“Here they come,” said John.
Samuel and the others watched Calling Crow and Swordbrought approach.
“How many muskets would you require?” Samuel asked Calling Crow in Spanish.
“Veinte.”
Samuel nodded.
“Twenty?” said John. “Brother, surely you are not going to trade twenty muskets to them?”
Samuel ignored him. “We want deerskins in trade,” he said. “How many would you be able to get?”
Calling Crow looked over at his son then back at Samuel. “Let us go to the chokafa to talk about it.” Calling Crow spoke in his own tongue with Swordbrought and they started toward the chokafa.
Samuel and the others followed Calling Crow and Swordbrought through the darkened entryway of the meeting house. The air was comfortable inside, scented with wood smoke. Calling Crow directed the Englishmen to sit on some mats and sent Swordbrought to summon the other braves and wise men who would discuss the trade. Calling Crow then walked to the entrance to speak with another of his men.
Samuel turned to Breuger. “How much do you think we could get for one of their skins on the market?”
Breuger’s blue eyes shone in his reddened face as he figured enthusiastically. “For one of the bigger ones, at least ten pounds.”
Samuel nodded. “That is what I would calculate.”
From the entryway, Calling Crow watched them as he spoke with one of his men.
“Get eight skins for each musket,” said John.
“Eight?” said Samuel. “They would be forever collecting them. Five skins will give us a fat profit.”
Swordbrought arrived with four other braves, one of them carrying the ancient-looking lame wizard on his back. After they had seated themselves across from the Englishmen, Calling Crow came over and sat.
“Where will you get the shooting sticks?” Calling Crow asked Samuel.
“Through the London market,” said Samuel. “There are many traders in London and I am sure I can get them.”
“We will give you two skins for each of your muskets,” said Calling Crow.
“Six skins for each musket,” said Samuel.
Calling Crow turned and talked with his men. The lame wizard spoke softly and Samuel looked at him carefully. He was blind, his eyes clouded over with a purplish scarring.
“It would take too long to kill that many deer,” said Calling Crow after a while. “We will give you four skins.”
“That is not enough,” said Samuel. “You have helped us much, and so we will take five skins for each musket.”
Calling Crow looked at him calmly for a moment. “We will give you half of the skins to take to England, and half when you return.”
Samuel shook his head.
“Half the skins,”
said Calling Crow, “will enable us to be away soon. Your men are anxious to go home and I must return by summer.”
Samuel grudgingly agreed with the native’s logic. “Very well,” he said.
“There is more,” said Calling Crow.
“What?”
“They don’t believe you will return with the muskets. Two of us will go with you to England, and two of your men must stay here.”
“Agreed,” said Samuel.
Calling Crow turned and discussed the business further with his men. Samuel could see that some of them were becoming agitated. “What is the matter?” he said.
Calling Crow turned back to Samuel. “It is not good to kill that many deer. But, our holy man says that in this case it will be all right if he makes a special offering to placate the deer people.”
Calling Crow turned back to his men and continued the discussion. Then he turned to Samuel. “I will convene a council. If the others agree, we will begin hunting the deer tomorrow!”
“Very good,” said Samuel.
“What did he say?” said John.
“He agrees to the trade, but he must get the approval of his councilors. He wants to send two of his men back with us and he wants us to leave two of our men here in order to guarantee they will get their muskets.”
John looked at Breuger and Miles. “We will leave these two behind.”
Breuger said nothing; Miles laughed nervously.
Calling Crow and his men began talking again. Samuel noted their growing excitement as they discussed the venture.
“Calling Crow,” said Samuel, “is there a problem with the offer?”
Calling Crow turned to him. “Some of them are still afraid and do not want to send men and skins back with you. I will convince them, but it will take time. Leave us for now and we will discuss this further among ourselves.”
Samuel nodded and turned to the others. “Let’s leave them. They want to talk it over some more.”
The Englishmen went out into the bright afternoon light. They crossed the dirt street from the big meeting hut and stood in the shade of a smaller hut. Several women walked past carrying skin bundles and baskets of nuts and fruits. They looked over at the Englishmen and smiled. Bright Eyes was among them. Under her mother’s ministrations, her wound had healed with hardly a scar. When they had gone farther down the street, Bright Eyes turned to look at Samuel. She put such longing into her eyes that he felt a great stirring. He watched as she and the others disappeared from view. He continued to wait with his men. Finally someone exited the meeting hut.
“Well,” said John, “here comes the king’s son. They have talked with their ministers of state and the Papal emissary. A decision is at hand.”
Swordbrought walked up and spoke to Samuel in Spanish.
“Well?” said John.
“They want to speak with me alone.” Samuel walked back to the chokafa with Swordbrought.
John, Breuger and Miles walked toward the palisade entrance. Exiting the village, they headed in the direction of the river. Two small boys and a dog followed them for a while before losing interest and wandering off.
Breuger looked over at John. “I think we will make a great deal of money on this deal, John. After we purchase the muskets, we can make a profit of forty percent on each one.”
John looked at him as if he were crazy. “What do you mean, ‘purchase the muskets’? There is no need to purchase anything. We will simply take the skins back and sell them and that is the end of this whole business.”
Breuger cast a worried look over at the meeting house. “But Samuel would never agree to that.”
John waved away his words.
Miles frowned. “And what about the men the king will send back with us? And the men we will leave behind?”
“I can talk Samuel into leaving the two Irish lads behind,” said John, “and the savages will be easily gotten rid of on the ship.” He paused and the other men stopped. “But remember, when it is time to do it, Samuel is not to be hurt. I will deal with the Bristol savage myself.”
Breuger and Miles smiled at the name someone had jokingly given to Samuel for spending so much of his time with the natives.
John looked around in disapproval at the village. “He sees a great deal of money to be made here. Hah! Aside from the skins, there is nothing here.”
“I don’t know about this,” said Breuger, “even with the savages gone, your brother will be wanting to come back here with the muskets. You know how determined he is to establish commerce with these people.”
John shook his head in annoyance. “Damn it, man, I tell you we will not be back. With the savages gone, I can talk Samuel out of this foolishness.” John looked around. “Now, when the time is right, we will simply toss the savages into the sea and that will be the end of it.”
Breuger laughed as Miles stroked the stubble on his jaw.
Chapter 14
Two months passed. The people of the village had become used to the sight of the strangely dressed, hairy Englishmen and they no longer drew large crowds. The Council still debated the idea of sending men and skins off with the English, but more and more, people were coming around to Calling Crow’s side. Despite the demonstrated treachery of the white people-- everyone still talked of the time the Spanish had taken the old chief, Atina, hostage for food-- Calling Crow’s wisdom and loyalty had always proved true and his forceful speeches in council were winning him more and more support. He argued that not all white people were the same, that these men were different from the Spanish. Indeed, they were enemies of the Spanish. Furthermore, Calling Crow argued, he had seen all of this in his vision anyway and therefore he must act upon it. The forty skins now curing in the drying sheds were testimony to what everyone knew would be the outcome of the debate. In fact, the only thing that was still unsettled was which braves would go back with the English.
On one very hot day, four men sat in a circle on a pallet of skins and reed mats in the sweat house. Bright sunlight from the entryway illuminated the hut. Calling Crow, Red Feather and Swordbrought wore only breechclouts, and the forth, Samuel Newman, wore breeches and hose and a linen shirt which clung wetly to his skin.
Calling Crow talked to Red Feather about the progress they were making in accumulating the skins while Swordbrought sat in silence. Two young men carried the ancient, blind medicine man, Sees Far, in and lowered him to the mat. Sees Far deftly packed tobacco into his pipe. No one knew exactly how old Sees Far was, but the second oldest man in the village, Long Arms, swore that when he was only a tiny sprig of a boy carried about on his mother’s hip, Sees Far was already an old, old man.
Sees Far’s heavy-lidded eyes quivered as he stared up at the skin covered ceiling of the hut and listened to the men speaking in Muskogee.
“Is Samuel here?” asked Sees Far.
“Yes,” said Swordbrought; Calling Crow and Red Feather did not hear the old man ask his question.
Sees Far sniffed the air. “These English-- they smell like the Spanish.”
Swordbrought frowned in puzzlement; he had never smelled the Spanish. They had left these parts by the time he was born.
Red Feather’s voice rose. “No, Calling Crow, I fear for you!” Red Feather glared in anger at Samuel. “I will go instead, and perhaps Little Bear. But not you. It is too dangerous.”
“I saw it in my vision,” said Calling Crow, “therefore I will go.”
“I will argue against it in the Council,” said Red Feather.
Sees Far reached out his small withered hand and placed it on Red Feather’s arm. “No, Red Feather. If Calling Crow saw his going in a vision, then he must go. I will make him medicine to help bring him back and I will pray for him while he is over there. Then, hopefully, he will complete his days in these lands, instead of the lands of the English men.”
Red Feather’s face was fierce with determination. “Very well, Grandfather.” ‘Grandfather’ was an honorific term used for all old men. “But,” Red
Feather continued, “we should send at least ten braves with him to protect him.”
“Ten braves or three,” said Calling Crow, “over there it would make no difference if the English betray us.”
Red Feather looked over at Samuel with suspicion. “Then why go?”
Calling Crow rebuked him in stern tones. “Red Feather, were your eyes closed back at the Spanish fort? Did you not see the shooting sticks being traded to the Timucua?” Calling Crow’s tone softened. “The Timucua will be probing our defenses. We need all the braves here so they are not tempted to launch an attack.”
Red Feather was at a loss for words and fell silent. Again he glared over at Samuel. “Why must the English man be herd?” he said.
Calling Crow and Swordbrought looked over at Samuel, who sat with his head bowed. His hands were folded in front of him and his eyes closed.
“He asked for this sweat bath,” said Calling Crow. “He wants to know everything about us.”
Swordbrought frowned. “Why are his hands like that?”
“That is the way the English pray,” said Calling Crow.
“Aieyee!” said Red Feather. “He looks like a squirrel chewing on an acorn.”
Swordbrought laughed softly.
Calling Crow frowned at Swordbrought and Red Feather. His look told them that the Englishman’s efforts to understand their ways were to be regarded as sincere, and that he was not to be scoffed at. “It is time,” said Sees Far. “We will begin the ceremony. Perhaps the English man will have a vision.”
Swordbrought smiled broadly at this and even Calling Crow allowed himself a small, barely discernible smile at Sees Far’s comment. Visions were not easily come by. A man had to pray long and hard over years, begging for a vision. Some men spent their whole lives seeking a vision and were never blessed with one.
They began by smoking the pipe. When they finished, the attendants brought in the first of the large hot rocks, cradling them in the antlers of a deer. “Hello, old friends,” said Sees Far, as the attendants lay the rocks in the pit, “straight from the house of the sun.” One of the men went out and one remained inside to pour water. The man outside flipped the skin covering of the sweat house down, plunging the interior into darkness. The rocks glowed in the center.
