Jamestown (The Keepers of the Ring) Read Online Free PDF Page B

like deer, hurrying northward toward the great chief’s village of Weromacomico. When they arrived, five days after their visit to Ritanoe, Opechancanough told his brother and the elders that the attack upon the clothed men had failed; the English still walked the land and worked the iron. Worse yet, the Englishmen at Ritanoe made copper arrowheads and pots for Gepanocon, who would surely rise up against the Powhatan when the time was right.
    “No!” Powhatan thundered, rising from his blanket on the floor of his hut. “We will destroy Ritanoe and all in it, including the clothed Englishmen!
    “We should not kill them,” Opechancanough said, taking a seat in the circle of elders around the chief. He looked around to make certain that every elder listened, then he spoke with calculated concern. “It is said that Wowinchopunk hath seen more boats with big guns in the land of the Paspahegh. The clothed people continue to come; we cannot fight them all. But if you take these clothed men at Ritanoe and hold them in your village, the others will listen to you.”
    “We will fight them one city at a time,” Powhatan said, his face flushing as his hand closed around his war club. The dark line of roached hair that ran from his hairline to his neck vibrated softly in his anger. “First, Ritanoe, then Paspahegh.” He gestured to one of his braves. “Run from village to village and let the drums call for a war party. Any man who wishes to strike the war post with me shall be rewarded, and Ritanoe will be no more!”
    Pressing his lips together to smother a smile, Opechancanough said nothing as the runner hurried to gather men for Powhatan’s war party. He would let his brother strike uselessly at the Indian villages. The Englishmen would continue to come in the winged ships.
    And he would wait for his vengeance. The hate within him was a living thing, demanding to feed, but he had learned how to discipline his appetite. Unlike his brothers, Opechancanough had learned that patience was an invaluable element of strategy.
     
     
    “What are you doing, Fallon?”
    They were on the bank of the river, and Fallon gave her a brief smile before returning his attention to his knife. “I’m marking this tree with an ‘F’ for Fallon,” he said, running his sharpened blade through the wounded bark of an oak. “And under it, I’ll mark a ‘G’ for Gilda. And then an ‘N’ for Noshi—”
    “Why?” Gilda asked, thrusting her hands behind her back. Fallon shrugged. “So people will know we’ve been here. So if anyone should happen to come here from up river—”
    “Mama and Papa?” Her blue eyes lit with hope, and Fallon felt a stab of guilt pierce his heart. ‘Twasn’t fair to encourage her to yearn for what could never be, but how were they to go on without dreams? In his deepest heart, Fallon prayed that Rowtag had survived, mayhap he was recovering his strength somewhere, and soon he would come down river to find them.
    “I don’t know who might come,” he said, sheathing his knife in his belt. He knelt beside Gilda and took her hand. “I don’t really know why I’m doing this. But if an Englishman sees our marks, he’ll recognize the alphabet and know that we were here. They’ll look for us, Gilda, and take us back where we belong.”
    She stared at him, uncomprehending, and Fallon sighed. Where did they belong? They weren’t English, in fact Fallon had never even seen an English ship, nor were they savages like the Indians of Ritanoe. But of all the towns and cities in the world, surely there was another like Ocanahonan, where men cared for each other and worshipped God.
    “Why don’t you help me?” Fallon said, searching for a stone. He found one and put it in Gilda’s hand. “We’ll carve a cross on this oak tree, you see, and anyone who sees it will know that we believe in the Christ, and that we’re not heathen savages.”
    “What’s a savage?” Gilda said, energetically marking the