The Legend of the Bloodstone

by E. B. Brown

  “He has done nothing wrong!”

  “Nothing wrong? Has he blinded yer eyes so much, then?”

  “No. It is nothing like that!” she snapped. “And if you are truly his friend, then you will help me go back to him.”

  “If you want my help, ye will tell me the truth of it. Tell me who are yer kin, and I will return you to them!”

  She snatched her arm away with a seething grunt.

  “I have no kin.”

  “Then you’ll have to bear my questions until you recall them.”

  Alice and Thomas approached. Thomas cocked his head and his brows narrowed as he neared, his cheeks squashed like two purple plums over a pointed scowl. Benjamin notably changed his demeanor, switching gears seamlessly to more gentle conversation. Although his skin remained flushed from ears to throat, his voice was tempered with calmness when he spoke again.

  “Winn spoke of a wound you suffered. I trust it heals well?”

  “Yes, it’s fine,” she sniped.

  He squinted a bit at her retort and resumed a pleasant smile. “Your manner of speech is…different. I admit it intrigues me.”

  “I’m sure you’ve never heard my accent before,” she shot back.

  His skin flushed a bit more and his head ducked down as he smiled. He cleared his throat and patted her hand as if in distraction.

  “Ah, yes, then. I would like to ask you a favor, Mistress.”

  “Maggie. I think you know my name by now.”

  “Maggie, then…would you like to ride with me after the service? I would take you to meet some friends, I’m sure your Uncle would approve.”

  “That is a fine idea, Benjamin. She will join ye,” Thomas interrupted as he joined them. The older man smirked, nodding eagerly at them.

  She considered denying his request, but when she saw the gentle hope in his eyes and the way he feared her rejection she nodded in agreement. She would take him up on the offer, play on his lapse of judgment, and find a way back to Winn. It would be an easy way to get away from her faux family, and might provide her opportunity to make her escape.

  “Good! We will leave right away, as soon as the minister releases us.”

  The service was blissfully short, in part because the regular minister was absent and the job was taken on by volunteers. Maggie sat daydreaming beside Benjamin, relieved when the final hymn ended and they were able to leave the stuffy stone church. Alice and Thomas seemed content to leave her in Benjamin’s care, which she viewed as just another part of her detainment. She imagined they viewed him as a helpful accomplice to keep her in line, and although she still tried to decipher their rules of right and wrong, she failed miserably.

  It was no matter. She would ride out with Benjamin and make her escape, and the nightmare of being detained by the English would soon be nothing more than an unpleasant memory.

  Chapter 16

  Maggie sat stiffly beside Benjamin, who had been courteous but indifferent the entire afternoon as they rode in the wagon. He took her as scheduled to a neighboring plantation to meet his friend, Morgan White, apparently trying to introduce her to other members of the community. Apparently, the widower White had contracted for a wife from England, and they would marry later in the week. It would be one of many weddings in Martin’s Hundred, thanks to the influx of eligible women sent over by the Virginia Company.

  He tilted his head and cracked the reins again to speed the horses, and pointed ahead to show her the plantation they approached.

  “Your Uncle is here,” he commented, clearly not expecting as much. The yard was empty except for a lone horse tied to split rail fence, which looked to be the black mare Thomas usually rode. Maggie wondered if she could get her hands on the horse.

  There was a pleasant small cabin at the heart of the settlement, and it seemed peculiar that there was no smoke coming from the chimney, especially considering the chill in the air. A shiver of unease stole over her when she saw the empty barn door snapping back and forth in the breeze, making a hollow thud each time it hit the barn wall. As they pulled up in the wagon, Uncle Thomas stalked out of the house, followed by a young boy of about four holding a round black felt hat and two young men, dressed in the grey homespun that most servants wore in the colony.

  “What happened here?” Benjamin asked, climbing down from the wagon. He offered his hand, and she gladly took it, curious to get a look around. The place looked near abandoned.

  “Young Morgan says his father left four days ago with that savage Jack-of-a-Feather, and he has yet to return. Then this morning the Indian comes here wearing his pa’s hat,” Thomas said, clearly riled up.

  “He never returned?” Benjamin asked.

  Maggie looked toward the barn and decided to take a better look while they talked. Young Morgan watched her walk toward the barn, but he hung back with the men, clutching the hat in his tiny white fingers, his dusty face littered with pale streaks where tears had washed off the grime. The tow-headed child was dry eyed now and silent in the presence of the adults.

  As she made her way closer across the packed clay, she could see two ponies tied to a post in the far side corral, one of which she immediately recognized. “Benjamin?” she called. “Who else is here?”

  “Maggie, stay with me!” Benjamin reached her side and grabbed her upper arm to stop her from the path. It was unlike him to snatch her so, but she took his advice and remained next to him as they stood outside the barn, since the hair on the back of her neck was standing at attention.

  “The boys have the savages tied up in the barn. Jack-of-a-Feather said Old Morgan had an accident, and he is dead,” Thomas said. He hoisted his rifle up to his shoulder and pointed it toward the barn in practice, then lowered it back to his side. “He must have killed Old Morgan. Jack won’t go willingly to the magistrate in Jamestown, and I do not know what to do with the other. Maybe you can decide, Benjamin, since you know the savage well.”

  Maggie saw Thomas shoot her a glare, his lips twitching nervously as he looked toward the barn. She cared very little if they planned to execute Nemattanew after what he had done, but she wondered who the second brave that accompanied him on his misdeeds was.

  “If Jack said it was an accident, we must treat him fairly, Thomas. We canna tie them up like animals,” Benjamin snapped, taking off for the barn. Thomas uttered a protest but followed him, and Maggie trailed behind.

  Benjamin was on his knee, untying his ankles when she made it to the door. Winn sat cross-legged on the ground, his head hanging limp, his wrists bound behind him to a post. Blood trickled from a swollen wound above his right ear where his hair was shaved flat to his skull in a half moon shape. Nemattanew sat beside him in a similar position, more alert, his eyes filled with fury as they approached.

  “Oh, God, Winn!” she cried.

  ***

  Her voice sounded like the melody of warm summer sunshine as she turned backwards on her horse to laugh at him. He loved to see her smile, and when she issued her teasing challenge to race, he gladly followed. She slapped her horse on the rump and took off, and he dug his heels in to urge his horse into pursuit. A splatter of wet sand kicked up around them, splattering the bellies of their mounts, but still she laughed, calling to him to follow. Her long scarlet locks streamed wild behind her, and he could hardly wait to catch her so he could hold her in his arms.

  “Winn!” she called out.

  He let her win the race, as he would give anything to see her smile, and slowed his mount as she stopped the race. Her pony swung around in a tight circle, and suddenly her eyes widened and her heart-shaped face crumpled, as if a shadow of fear had swallowed her.

  “What is it, ntehem?” he called.

  “Winn!” she screamed.

  He felt hands shaking his shoulders before he saw whom the limbs were attached to, but he knew for certain as he woke that the voice belonged to Maggie. His transition back to consciousness returned in a rush, and suddenly the only thing he could think of was getting Mag
gie as far away from Nemattanew as possible. He tried to rise, but the man pushed him back down with firm pressure on his shoulders. Winn shrugged off his hands and staggered to his feet as the stars clouding his vision began to fade, his hands still bound behind his back.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Benjamin yelled, directing his anger at the other Englishman. His right eye was swollen from the blow of a rifle butt, but Winn could still see Maggie, who pushed around Benjamin and pressed a cool cloth to his temple. He closed his eyes briefly to her touch, hoping Benjamin did not notice how she wrapped her hands around his arm and pressed dangerously close to him. Winn saw a glimmer of wetness in her jade eyes and gently leaned into her to help steady her shaking.

  “Thank you,” he said softly to comfort her. He kept his voice low as the Englishmen argued, more worried about getting Maggie to safety than what they thought of him.

  He had tracked them down hours before and laid waiting in the woods, watching the farm for Benjamin to arrive with Maggie. He trusted that Benjamin would not prevent him from retrieving his wife, but he had no such faith in the other Englishmen. It should have gone smoothly, with no one injured or killed, but once Nemattanew showed up things just went to pot.

  Nemattanew arrived and argued with the English, and Winn rode in to help him against his better judgment. Winn grimaced, knowing now the decision was a poor one, but at the time, he saw no harm in it. The settlers claimed Jack of a Feather killed the Elder Morgan, and they wanted to bring the Indian to James City to face the magistrate. Winn stepped in to defend the accused, but when Winn tried to intercede, the servants immediately assumed the worst.

  Things went bad very quickly after that. The servants turned on them and held them at gunpoint, and the last thing Winn could recall was waking up bound to the post. He could only surmise that Nemattanew wanted to return to the farm to explain the white man’s disappearance, probably in order to keep relations calm with the English as all Powhatan were under order to do. Opechancanough had been planning his coordinated attack on the whites for several years, and success hinged on the ability of the Powhatans to gain the trust of the whites. The Weroance would not be pleased to hear Nemattanew had slaughtered an Englishman for no good reason. Every local tribe under Powhatan rule knew of the plan, and each tribe had a part in maintaining good relations with the whites.

  Nemattanew, however, was a loose cannon. The brave had a deep hate for the whites that often led him to rash acts, and the unfortunate Elder Morgan had been too trusting of the tricky Jack-of-a-Feather. Winn knew Nemattanew was losing favor with his Uncle for his rash behavior, and his only regret was that it had come too late to prevent all the chaos involving Maggie. Given the choice, Winn would gladly end his life, as he was sure Nemattanew would happily do the same for him.

  “Winn, what happened here?” Benjamin asked, reaching out to pull Maggie away.

  “Untie me,” Winn answered. His hands clenched into fists when he saw how Benjamin glanced at Thomas, then paused. Was Benjamin going to forsake him, and leave him bound like a dog?

  Maggie moved forward, but Benjamin snatched her hand and pushed her behind him, as if Winn was a danger to her. Winn would have laughed at the irony if he were not in such a precarious position. Thomas Martin had his rifle cocked at his waist, waiting with his little pebble eyes for any move Winn might make.

  “Thomas, take Maggie back to the house.”

  “No!” she shouted. Maggie shook off the hand that reached for her and tried to avoid Thomas, but Winn could only watch as the older man dragged her toward the house. He heard her utter a slew of oaths at Thomas as she went, and he closed his eyes against her words and prayed she would be safe until he could get to her.

  “Winn…please. Tell me what you have done,” Benjamin asked. He put his rifle down to lean against the wall, and he unsheathed the knife at his waist. Benjamin sliced through the bonds with one quick jab then stepped back a few paces. Winn flexed his hands as his wrists were released, then swiftly reached for his own knife still tucked in his corded belt, lowering his tight jaw as he gave his answer through gritted teeth.

  “Think what you will, friend. I killed no Englishman…today.”

  He would give no further answer to the accusations his friend posed. Fighting back his anger at Benjamin, at the English, at his Uncle – in one swoop it all became clear, as if he had been living in a shadow of denial before this day.

  He deserved to be a suspect, because he was guilty. No matter how much he felt friendship for Benjamin, despite the trust between them, Winn had deceived him all along with full intent to lead an attack upon the English. He had grown up believing that following the orders of his Weroance somehow made it honorable, but now, as he stared into the blue eyes of his oldest friend, he could not deny that he was about to take everything from the man.

  Winn avoided his stare and bent to cut Nemattanew loose. He would have liked to leave him there to face the English justice but knew he could not.

  “We go,” he said, directing the order to Nemattanew, who Winn feared would want to retaliate. It would only bring down the rage of Opechancanough on them all if he allowed that to happen. For once, Nemattanew offered no protest. Winn took it as a sign that he knew he was beaten for now.

  “I can’t let you do that, Winn. Winn!” Benjamin yelled.

  “Shoot me if you must, brother,” Winn replied. He stepped out of the barn and scanned the courtyard for Maggie. “Where is the woman?”

  “She is safe. You must tell me-“

  Winn ignored his plea and stalked off toward the house. He would not make the mistake of leaving her again, no matter how many English he had to kill. Nemattanew mounted up, watching him. She stood grappling with the two servant boys, looking the victor of the group in her fury, her thick fiery hair streaming out behind her and her eyes alight with heathen rage.

  “Unhand my wife,” he said simply. He reached for the spear slung over his back, and both boys immediately retreated. He left the weapon sheathed and held out his hand to Maggie. Her chest heaved from her struggle, and he could hardly wait to feel her in his arms again.

  “Knihelel!” Nemattanew screamed, swinging his horse wildly in circles as he cried out, lifting his fist back toward the Englishmen and screaming his promise to end them all.

  Winn turned to the warrior, but before he could issue a command, Nemattanew was thrown back off his horse. The echo of the rifle came afterward, and in the melee that followed, Thomas Martin shot off another round.

  “No!” Maggie screamed.

  He felt the shot before he heard it, again the sound trailing behind through the space of the open meadow. He hit the ground, the warm sticky sensation of his own blood running over his chest, the wound pulsing even as he tried to stop it with his hand. He sat up but fell back down, his left arm burning as if shards of glass filled the bone. He let it take him for only a moment, knowing he could not give in before he made her safe.

  “Stay down! Do not move!” Benjamin ordered from somewhere above him. The voice trailed off in an echo, the sound of his heartbeat thudding louder through his ears as he winced up at the blinding sunlight. He wondered if perhaps time travel felt the same, and if Maggie had suffered when she came through to him. He would ask her that later, when they lay by his fire beneath warm furs, when he held her naked body against his and whispered a song to lure her into sleep.

  “Is he dead?” another voice asked.

  “No…but the wound is bad,” Benjamin answered.

  Winn felt his chest squeezed as Benjamin placed pressure to the wound. His eyes slid open into slits to look at his friend.

  “Keep her safe, Benjamin,” he said, his voice strained from forming the words.

  “Maggie – you mean Maggie?” Benjamin replied hoarsely. Winn grimaced when Benjamin pushed down harder on the wound, and he felt the warmth of his own blood as it ebbed down his ribs. He could smell its iron scent and knew that too much of it had left his veins.

&n
bsp; “She is…my wife. Let no man harm her…brother.”

  Winn closed his eyes.

  “Catch me if you can, warrior!” she laughed.

  So she would make a game of it, and he would chase her. Her long auburn hair streamed behind her as she ran laughing down the beach, the wet sand sticking to her skin. Her footsteps marked her trail like breadcrumbs across the sand, and he followed it.

  Should it take forever, he would find her again.

  ***

  Maggie screamed as Nemattanew flew off the horse and Winn swung back around to face them, and before she could stop him, Thomas fired off a round and Winn fell to the ground.

  “No!” she screamed, throwing herself at the rifle Thomas held. She fought Benjamin when he pulled her off her Uncle, kicking and biting anything she could make contact with. Her teeth sunk into Benjamin’s arm and he shook her off, finally subduing her in a bear hug to avoid her sharp heels as she kicked.

  “Let me go!”

  “Boys! Take her inside- and for God’s sake don’t let her out of your sight!” he ordered the servants who stood by. She relaxed and let them think she was willing, and then darted easily out of their grasp to follow Benjamin as he ran toward Winn. Benjamin kneeled down next to Winn, who lay fallen on the dirt.

  “Enough!” Thomas shouted. He grabbed her by the back of her dress, and with one thick fist, he clouted her across the face. The blow was a powerful one, and she moaned as she lost her balance and fell to the ground.

  ***

  Maggie winced as Aunt Alice dabbed at her split lower lip with a bit of clean wool. They both jumped when Thomas entered the bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

  “Leave us, good wife,” he said, his graveled voice steady. She could see the menace in his beady black eyes no matter how calmly he spoke, and she knew he had nothing but harsh intention behind his mask. Alice immediately obeyed, reaching out to touch his arm before she left, but drawing back at the last moment and grasping for the door handle instead. She avoided eye contact with Maggie as she skittered away.