White Seed: The Untold Story of the Lost Colony of Roanoke

by Paul Clayton

  Thomas scowled. “Captain Stafford will know what happened. He will come.”

  Manteo shook his head. “Captain no can help.” His eyes narrowed. “Still believe you in God?”

  Thomas nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Good. You should very much pray to him now.”

  ***

  Wanchese and his braves ran into the town of Powhatan, pulling along Manteo and the Englishman who was tethered to him. Slowing to a walk, Wanchese paraded them through that part of the town that was thickest with dwellings, calling all to come out and see the English captive and the Croatoan. By the time they arrived at the square ground outside Powhatan’s dwelling, a large crowd had gathered. Despite the beating he had received, Manteo was alert and noted the many braves in the town, many more than belonged there. They congregated in groups according to their villages. They passed one group whose tattoos identified them as Mangoaks. The Mangoaks watched closely as one of Powhatan’s men counted out a stack of copper gorgets into a large pile at their feet. The body ornaments, usually worn hanging from a chain about the neck, were hard to come by and highly prized. Manteo knew that they were being paid for their help in some upcoming campaign. And, sadly, he knew what that would be.

  Wanchese halted in front of Powhatan’s dwelling and his men tied Manteo and Thomas to poles. The crowd grew noisier and bigger and Manteo thought he saw a familiar face in it. Then it disappeared. Manteo began to contemplate his death. With his acceptance of it came a calm courage. He prayed for strength, for he knew he would not have a quick death. He turned to look at Thomas. The English man had not yet accepted his impending death and looked about wildly for his Captain Stafford to come and rescue him. That would never happen.

  Powhatan and his kweeyusuk, and Grangemeo, the emissary Manteo had seen at his mother’s village, pushed their way through the throng to stare at Manteo and Thomas. Grangemeo’s eyes flickered with recognition. Powhatan raised his hand and several women rushed forward to deposit armloads of sticks on the ground. Manteo knew they had been carefully chosen, none of them being stout enough to break bones; that would come later. Again Manteo saw the familiar face in the crowd and smiled sadly at Towaye. Towaye looked different, older, no longer the boy that Manteo had returned from England with. Manteo was pleased to see no hatred in Towaye’s eyes, despite having lived all this time among the Pamunkeys.

  The people grew very thick and their voices rose into a great chitter-chatter like a flock of hungry birds alighting in a cornfield. Manteo lost sight of Towaye. The shadows grew long and the crowd edged anxiously closer and closer to the pile of sticks. Powhatan shouted, “Begin,” and the people rushed forward like a wave onto the beach.

  Chapter 42

  Fifty miles south of Roanoke, in the village of Croatoan, Bear Killer came to consciousness in a house that was not his own. He remembered the Powhatan braves coming at him from everywhere at once, driving him back, while three of them leapt on Manteo.

  Bear Killer attempted to sit up and almost passed out from the pain in his head. He tried again, and, with great effort, managed to stay up. Nearby, Blue Flower, an old woman healer of the village, knelt on the ground, mashing medicine roots with a round stone. She saw him and came over to stand beside him.

  “Lie still,” she ordered him. “That blow to your head would have killed a lesser man. Why tempt Okeus?”

  Bear Killer scowled. “They have Manteo! Not even Okeus will keep me from reporting to Weronsqua and the Council.”

  Bear Killer swung his feet over the edge of the sleeping shelf. “Help me down.”

  “No,” said Blue Flower. “I will not be a party to your death.”

  Bear Killer’s look grew frosty and Blue Flower’s tone softened, “There is no need for you to leave. Weronsqua, Black Hawk and War Hunter are coming here to speak with you. Corn Planter is too ill to come.”

  “Tell them to hurry,” Bear Killer said, and then the pain in his head made him dizzy.

  Blue Flower put her arms around him and helped him lower himself back onto the shelf. She left and he rested, falling in and out of consciousness. Finally he heard footsteps.

  Black Hawk’s old face was fierce and full of reproach as he looked down at Bear Killer. Bear Killer forced himself up. Pain convulsed him and he tried not to show it. War Hunter’s handsome wrinkled face seemed to smile.

  Tookemay entered the house and came over to Bear Killer. “I heard you had awakened,” she said. “My prayers to the Great Spirit have been answered.”

  Bear Killer nodded slightly. “Manteo has promised the English people that we would take them off the island.”

  “Without consulting the Council?” said Black Hawk incredulously.

  Bear Killer nodded. “Yes. He told them we would come for them in three days’ time.”

  “Why?” War Hunter demanded.

  Bear Killer frowned in frustration. “Things there are falling apart quickly.”

  “Bear Killer,” said Tookemay, “why did he not come back with you to ask us directly?”

  Bear Killer dreaded what he must say. It would hurt this brave woman very much. “We were talking about this when seven of Powhatan’s men fell upon us. Manteo was taken prisoner along with an English man who was lurking nearby.”

  Tookemay’s face showed nothing, but Bear Killer knew she was already mourning the death of her son.

  Black Hawk shook his head sadly. “If Powhatan has Manteo, he is a dead man.”

  “We should still discuss his request,” said Tookemay.

  “I don’t see why?” said Black Hawk. “These English are nothing to us.”

  Tookemay ignored him, focusing her sharp eyes instead on Bear Killer.

  “Did he fight bravely?” she said, her face stern.

  Bear Killer nodded.

  Tookemay’s sad eyes sparkled momentarily. “Let us go discuss Manteo’s request in council.” She turned and walked out.

  ***

  At midday, Lionel waited quietly just inside the door of the gaol. Outside in the sun’s glare, the soldier on guard stared in at him suspiciously. A few feet away Ananias and Eleanor Dare talked quietly to Maggie through the barred cell door. Lionel had spoken to Maggie earlier, but could get nothing out of her. She simply stared at the wall as if she were deaf.

  Ananias left Maggie and came back to stand with Lionel. “What will happen to her?” Lionel asked.

  “He said he would hang her,” said Ananias, too softly for Maggie to hear.

  “That bloody swag!” said Lionel, his pulse quickening. “When?”

  “He said he will wait until his arm heals,” said Ananias.

  “Are you going with Master Harvey?” said Lionel.

  Ananias nodded. “Aye. Eleanor and I have prayed mightily over it and decided.” Ananias looked around. “This place is a prison.”

  Lionel nodded and looked into the cell. Eleanor spoke to Maggie in soft, cajoling tones, but Maggie remained silent, keeping her face to the wall. Then Eleanor began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. Lionel turned back to Ananias. “Maid Maggie has aged ten years in the three she has been here.”

  “Aye,” said Ananias. “I am afeard it is the end of her. God help her. God help all of us!”

  Lionel looked out at the sunlight. If not for the guard the captain had on the gaol round the clock, he could get Maggie out. He had learned quite a few tricks in London when he’d been in the trade, and the crude lock on the cell door would be no problem. If he did free the girl, however, he would be revealed for what he had been, a thief and cozener. Master Harvey would look at him differently, as would all the others. But did that matter now? Logically, it should not. But what if a ship arrived? Now everyone swore that there would be no ships. But Lionel knew that deep down inside everyone, that hope had not gone away. And if somehow a ship did arrive, slowly gliding to anchor, its masts visible above the low trees, everything would change immediately and irrevocably. The gentlemen and their wives would be raised up and Stafford and
the soldiers would be laid low, bound over in chains and sent back to England to hang. But would he, Lionel, not be bound up with them, revealed as a thief and cozener, perhaps tied to that business of Maggie’s and Thomas’s back in England? It was possible. But could he live with himself if he did nothing to help the girl?

  Eleanor came out to them. “God help her,” she said. “She either can not or will not speak.”

  “Can anything be done?” said Ananias.

  “We can only pray,” said Eleanor

  They walked past the soldier and out of the gaol into the hot air of midday.

  ***

  The Englishman’s screams had stopped at dusk. Now, as darkness fell, an inhuman sound emanated from him, like the moaning of the wind past a rock outcropping or a chimney. A small crowd of Powhatan’s braves sat tiredly in a circle not far from where the Englishman and Manteo hung from their poles. Towaye stood with the braves and thought that Manteo resembled the pictures and carvings he had seen of Jesus hanging from his cross.

  Wanchese got to his feet and approached Manteo. The Croatoan slowly opened his eyes.

  “The Englishman dies badly,” said Wanchese. “After he is gone we will begin with you. I hope you will give us more sport.”

  Manteo looked into Wanchese’s eyes but said nothing.

  Wanchese continued. “Thomas told me the English have almost no powder or shot left. Is that so?”

  Manteo remained silent.

  Wanchese smiled. “They have been a long time in their fort.” He turned and waved Towaye forward. The younger brave carried over a wooden bowl full of white paint. Wanchese took the bowl and dipped his hand in it. He smeared white paint roughly over Manteo’s face until it ran down his chest.

  “Since you have become an Englishman, I will make you white.”

  Towaye thought he saw a spark of hate in Manteo’s eyes.

  Wanchese scowled and threw the bowl at Manteo, splattering paint across his body. He turned to Towaye, “I go to speak with Powhatan.”

  Towaye watched Wanchese walk off. A brave named Thunder Rock got to his feet and took a burning stick from the fire. He held it against Thomas’s genitals. The man had stopped moaning and was unconscious. Getting no reaction, the brave broke the stick over Thomas’s head and the other braves laughed tiredly. Towaye remembered his time on the great island of England in Raleigh’s house, a house as big as a village. The English thundersticks and cannons would make all men quiver on the ground in fear and destroy those who did not. Their huge, powerful horses ran like the wind and obeyed them like children. Towaye could not understand why the English had abandoned their people at Roanoke.

  Thomas regained consciousness and began again to moan like a storm wind.

  The English had such great power, Towaye wondered, so why had they come to this?

  Confused, Towaye walked off. Okeus certainly approved of what the braves were doing. So why had the torture of the English man given Towaye no pleasure? Towaye headed to the House of the Dead. He would ask Kiskiak’s helper, Hawk, these things. The young man and he had become friends and talked often. Towaye paused outside the longhouse at the small sacred fire. He could see torchlight inside, but no one moving about. He went in, almost tripping over Hawk. The young man was asleep on his bearskin. Towaye called to him softly, but Hawk did not respond. He had been up all the night before doing ceremony for Powhatan’s coming war upon the English, and now he was exhausted.

  Towaye turned to go back outside when a spirit in his head told him to go further inside. He walked toward the light in the back of the building, calling Kiskiak’s name softly. Perhaps the priest was praying to Okeus. If anyone could give Towaye the answers he craved, it was Okeus. Again Towaye called out Kiskiak’s name. There was no response.

  Towaye walked on, coming to the woven cane wall that enclosed Kiskiak’s and Okeus’s chambers. He saw the bier ahead upon which the exalted men lay in state, and the ladder leading up to it. Towaye knew that entry to Okeus chamber was forbidden, but he felt strangely compelled to enter anyway. It was as if Okeus himself was calling him. Surely Kiskiak would understand that. Towaye went inside.

  Kiskiak’s sleeping pallet lay close to the wall near the torch. It was empty. Towaye saw a figure on the other side of the woven cane screen. He went around the screen, coming face to face with Okeus. The bright eyes pierced his and he fell to his knees. He had been a fool to come here and now Okeus would strike him dead. His breath came in gasps as he waited for death but nothing happened. He looked up and saw with amazement that Okeus was not looking down at him on the floor. Instead, his gaze was still focused on a spot on the wall. Towaye got to his feet and went closer. Okeus did not follow him with his eyes. Towaye went around behind Okeus and saw that his back was open, his insides hollow. Towaye stared in wonder at the two poles that would raise and lower Okeus’s arms from inside his hollow body. He saw the hole in Okeus’s mouth through which someone could blow smoke. Torchlight twinkled dimly through the two shell-like eyes, like the fires he’d seen through the pane windows of the houses of the English. His mind spun dizzily as he realized what it all meant. Towaye retraced his footsteps through the House of the Dead. Out in the night, he walked through the sleeping town toward the square ground, steering clear of Powhatan’s longhouse. He stopped and stared at the two captives tied to their poles. Both were unconscious. Towaye looked around and saw that most of the braves had drifted off. Only two remained, and they lay on a reed mat, sleeping almost as soundly as the corpses of the exalted men in the House of the Dead.

  Manteo dreamed he was running through the forest. Maggie stepped out from behind a tree. He looked into her eyes. They were in the copse under the trees, her warmth, the giving in her eyes, thrilling him. They finished and he kissed her. They walked to the cool waters of the sound. He took her hand, pulling her in, cupping his hands to pour water over her freckled shoulders. She spun laughingly away and ducked under the water. He watched the surface expectantly, waiting for her to surface. Time passed. He called her name. It had been too long. He brought his face close to the surface of the water, frantically searching the opaque depths, but he saw nothing. He dove under, reaching out for her in the blackness. He fought the burning in his chest. He would not surface without her. He felt himself shrinking, disappearing. His heart pounded like a drum and he screamed out her name, clawing at the water. He heard something! There. A tiny voice in the blackness called his name. His head jerked up and broke the surface.

  A warm wind caressed his face. Black pain engulfed him. Was this it, what the English called hell? He became aware of the hard pole behind him, the cords binding him, and realized he was still tethered beside Thomas in Powhatan’s town. Someone knelt at his feet. He felt a tug, then one of his legs swung free. Someone stood before him. The face came close but he could not make it out.

  “He is not real,” said the face.

  “What?”

  “He is not a god.”

  Manteo realized it was Towaye. “Who?”

  “Okeus.”

  Towaye cut the rest of Manteo’s cords, freeing him.

  “Okeus is not real,” said Towaye. “I go back with you.”

  “We must cut Thomas down,” said Manteo.

  “He is dead,” said Towaye.

  Chapter 43

  Ananias, Robert, and Lionel walked quietly across the darkened common. After their earlier discussion about attempting to escape, Ananias’s hopefulness was beginning to wane. Now they were almost entirely dependent upon the Croatoans, but Manteo had never returned. Had he simply abandoned them here as their own people had? Sadly, that seemed to be the case. Despite Robert’s insistence to the contrary, Ananias believed that now they were solely at the mercy of Stafford and his soldiers.

  Ananias turned in at his gate. The other two men waited for him to go inside. Closing the gate behind him, Ananias noticed a spot of white between the timbers of the palisade at knee level. He went closer. Kneeling, he saw that it was a feat
her, pushed through a chink in the timbers where the mud mortar had fallen out. He brought it over to Robert and Lionel.

  “‘Tis from Manteo! ‘Tis how he signals Maggie.”

  “Aye,” said Lionel. “He must be hanging about outside.”

  Robert turned to Ananias. “Get the rope ladder. Lionel, stand guard here.”

  Later, Robert and Ananias crouched on the ramparts. Ananias secured one end of the rope ladder to a timber and lowered the other end into the darkness. They did not have to wait long before it began moving as someone climbed up.

  Ananias leaned out to look down to where the ladder disappeared into the darkness. He called softly, “Manteo. We thought you were dead. What has happened?”

  There was no reply as the rope ladder continued to twist and sway. A head appeared below, dark hair, shaved on one side. Then Towaye hoisted himself up onto the fighting platform.

  “Towaye!” said Ananias in shock. “What are you doing here?”

  “‘Tis a trick,” hissed Robert, “cut the ladder!”

  Ananias froze with indecision. Robert pulled his sword. Towaye held up his hand. “Wait!” he said softly. “No cut.”

  Another head appeared.

  Manteo clung to the top rung, too weak to pull himself up.

  Towaye and Robert quickly helped the Croatoan up. Manteo flopped onto his back, breathing heavily. Towaye squatted beside him, looking up at Robert. “Powhatan catch Manteo,” he said excitedly. “Powhatan come soon with many men to kill all English people.”

  “What?” said Robert incredulously. “Manteo, prithee, is this true?”

  Manteo nodded weakly. “ Soon Powhatan come. We must all go. Where be Maggie?”

  Robert seemed not to hear Manteo’s question as he looked across the sound at the darkness of the main. Robert turned to Ananias. “Let us get Manteo into the cottage before someone catches us out here.”