Cate of the Lost Colony (6 page)

Chapter 8

Manteo’s Quest

I
am called Manteo, which means “he snatches from another,” like a hawk. It is a fitting name for the son of a
weroance
. But I am more like Cloud-runner, the youth who lay in the grass and stared at the clouds. Like Cloud-runner, I sometimes dream that I am in the land of the star people. Their lodge gleams like the inside of an oyster. Cloud-runner lived among the star people until he grew homesick, and when he returned home he forgot his sojourn there. As I forget the time my father was killed in battle when I was only a few winters old. My people remember their past through the stories we tell.

I was born on Croatoan, one of the islands that are joined like a necklace of shells. They keep the sea from breaking upon the mainland. My mother, Weyawinga, is the weroance of the island. I know my way around its rocky shoals. I know the land of Ossomocomuck from the bay of Chesapeake to the Neuse River, which villages are ruled by friendly weroances, and where our foes live. I know when to plant
pagatour,
or maize. I know which roots and berries can be eaten, and which ones kill.

I grew up on stories of young men who left their villages on dream quests and returned with gifts to save their people.
Openauk
, the wild-growing potato. Flocks of
kaiauk
, who make the ground rich with their leavings. When the youths came back they were men. Everyone respected them.

I grew tall and my voice deepened. I went to the lodge, crossing the sound in a canoe, alone. Fear was like a hand gripping my guts. I might be eaten by a bear or killed by the Pomeioc. For weeks I ate almost nothing. I breathed in smoke that left me dazed. Waited for my vision of what to pursue. It would be greater than a gift of food or skill with a spear, for I was the son of a weroance and deserved more. My dream would fill me with
montoac,
the spirit power that would make me a hero, like in the ancient stories.

I did everything a young man is supposed to do. But no quest was revealed to me.

Heavy with despair I set out for home. Then in the forest I had my vision. Men with skin as pale as the mushrooms that grow beneath rotting leaves. Wearing plates of shining
wassador
. What did this dream signify? Twigs and leaves crackled under their feet. Strange sounds came from their mouths. As they drew near I could even smell them. This was no dream! The men were as real as I. When they saw me, they made signs with their hands. They were so glad to see me that I was not afraid of them.

One of the men spoke words I could understand. They were seeking the village of Secotan. I agreed to lead them there rather than return to my village and admit my failure. The white men were hungry and had no skill at hunting. So I shot several rabbits and wildfowl. They were amazed by my bow, such a simple weapon.

The English, for so they called themselves, showed me their weapon, a musket. It produced fire and a loud noise. They offered me ornaments made from the shining wassador and a strong drink that opened my mind. They made signs that more would be given to me if I would go to their land across the waves. The montoac I sought was being offered to me! Spirit power was in the wassador, the drink, the mighty weapons of the strangers. My thoughts leapt like a herd of deer. I would go with these men and bring their powerful things to my people. Returning to Croatoan, I told my mother that this was my quest. She was afraid for me, but did not forbid me to go.

The sea was wider than I thought possible, the English boat big enough to hold everyone in my village. I had a companion, for Wingina, the weroance of the Roanoke, sent one of his warriors to learn more about where the strangers had come from. Unlike me, Wanchese was not pleased to leave the land.

Ossomocomuck has no end to it. The white man’s village, London, also had no end. But it was to my land as day is to night. So bright and busy I had to close my eyes. So loud my ears hurt. So foul smelling I held my nose. London was a market where all wares could be traded at once. Men put sledges on wheels and horses pulled them along paths where people gathered as thick as gulls on the seashore. At first Wanchese and I were kept from the people. We were taken to live in a lodge so tall I wondered how it could stay upright. I had no words for the wonders I saw there. Truly I was Cloud-runner in the land of the star people.

The Englishmen Raw-lee and Hare-yet treated me like a sage, one who is wiser even than a weroance. I basked in their attention like a snake in the sun. But I had to wear clothes. (All the men and women of London, shamed by their paleness, covered their flesh with bright clothing.) I was given a shirt so fine it felt like air brushing my skin. But I did not like the shoes. I wished for my feet to touch the earth again.

Hare-yet taught me their tongue and I taught him mine. But Wanchese was jealous of my favor.

“
There is wisdom in silence, but the white man talks like a jay
,” he said. He refused to learn their tongue. This made the English suspect him.

Then a disease fell upon Wanchese. Boils covered his body and burst open. One of their healers cut open his leg to let out the evil, making him well again.

“
Do not trust these men
,” Wanchese told me. “
They are trying to kill me, but my spirit is too strong
.”

I said Raw-lee and Hare-yet were men of truth. Had they not given me many gifts, as they promised? And such pale faces, like a stream in which the fish can be seen, could not deceive. That was my belief. Moreover, they honored us by presenting us to their weroance with much ceremony. Kwin-lissa-bet ruled not only London, but every village in the land. Her warriors were said to be as numerous as the stars. I thought she must be more powerful than Wingina or any of the rulers of Ossomocomuck.

The lodge of this weroance was like the dwelling of Ahone and all the gods. The men wore plates of shiny wassador around their necks. The
kwin
covered herself in riches that glittered like the sun on the sea. My mind was full of the vision but without any words to describe it. Yet I saw in the pale faces of the people thoughts I could name. Thoughts they could not hide. Fear, wonder, shame to look upon me.

But there was among them one face that regarded me with simple interest. It was that of a young woman. Her hair was as dark as my own, her eyes like the sea just before night falls. I thought,
Without their clothing and ornaments, maybe these people are not so different from me
.

The English ships sailed again, laden with goods. Wanchese and I were both glad to return home. Unlike Cloud-runner, I did not wish to live among the star people. I wanted to share with my own people the great gift I had discovered: the montoac that was in the Englishman’s language, his knowledge, and his friendship. This would bring us respect and make our enemies fear us.

This would make me a hero.

Chapter 9

A Favor Denied

F
rom the time I saw Manteo at court, resplendent in his native garb, my curiosity about the savages could not be satisfied. I borrowed a book from the queen’s library,
Diverse Voyages to the Americas,
but it was full of conjecture and woodcuts of half-human monsters. It was nothing but feigned tales, while I sought a true history. Thus, when I went with the queen to Durham House and Sir Walter brought Manteo and Wanchese into the company, I was beside myself with excitement. When I heard Manteo speak in English, I marveled at the great and perceptive mind he had. He seemed no older than I, but he had almost mastered my language, while I could speak not a word of his. Thomas Harriot had learned his tongue, but he was known to be a genius.

Pausing often and prompted by the scholar Harriot, Manteo spoke about the riches that lay beneath the great hills inland and the pearls resting beneath the flowing rivers. It was a speech he had prepared for the queen. All the while, I desired to ask this Manteo a question about his home and to meet his eyes again. In the company of so many men, however, it was not proper for me to speak. And so I drew no attention to myself but sat in mingled awe and misery. Of course Manteo was more interesting than I could possibly be, so I understood why Ralegh had neglected to send me letters and verses. His was the task of building a new colony, and the Indians were a part of that great enterprise. The queen had even knighted him, and he was now Sir Walter Ralegh. She, not I, was the mistress of his heart and fortune. I had nothing to contribute.

Ralegh’s ships—with his Indians aboard—sailed again for the New World. I decided not to pine for what I could not have, but, like a humble gardener, to till the soil closer to home. Emme was always encouraging me to befriend those who could make my lot as a queen’s maid easier to bear. Soon enough, an opportunity presented itself; Anne begged me for a favor. When I asked what it was, she did not reply but took my arm and propelled me through the gates of Whitehall and into the streets clogged with carts and shouting vendors. Shortly we came to a house near Charing Cross.

Thomas Graham waited inside. His red hair stood up like a brush. He offered me a glass of ale and some sweets, which I accepted out of courtesy.

“Why have you brought me here?” I asked.

Graham took Anne’s hand and she blushed, then stroked his face. I envied them their love for each other, and thought sadly of Sir Walter’s letters hidden in my coffer.

“Dearest Catherine,” began Anne. “You know how long Thomas has waited for the queen to recognize his virtues. Now his fortune is reduced to pennies, and unless he obtains a position at court, he shall have to leave London altogether.” Her chin trembled. “And I shall never see him.”

“What will you do to make a living?” I asked Graham.

“Soldiering,” he said grimly.

“I don’t know how I can help,” I said with a shrug.

“Catherine, you are mild and never give offense,” said Anne in her most flattering tone. “If you asked a favor of the queen, she would surely grant it.”

“I doubt she regards me as highly as you think,” I said. “What do you seek?”

“To be appointed a gentleman pensioner. I am handsome enough, don’t you think?”

I nodded, for despite his fussy dress Graham was tall and well featured.

“Then you will give this petition to the queen for me?” He held out a sealed letter.

“You may have my black taffeta bodice and the yellow sarcenet skirt trimmed in black,” Anne offered, her hands clasped in hope. “They are still in fashion.”

“Why not petition the queen yourself?” I asked her.

“One does not ask a favor for oneself!” she said. “No, it must be a friend who pleads for us.”

Would I ever understand the ways of the court? I considered Anne’s request. I was flattered that she called me her friend. She was a sweet lady and Graham, well intentioned. Though I pitied their circumstance, still I hesitated. Then Graham set his purse on the table, and I heard the clink of coins.

“I do not want the last of your fortune,” I said, pushing it away. “I will help you.”

Graham seized my hand and kissed it. “Do this, and I will perform any deed for you. Next to my lady, you I will serve.” His words tumbled out. “Sir Walter and I have been companions, and if you—if he—only ask and I will— The debt is all mine.”

I frowned and withdrew my hand. Was it impossible to keep a secret at court?

“I don’t know what you mean. Sir Walter is nothing to me, or I to him,” I said, trying to sound cool, though my cheeks were hot.

Anne gave me the promised gown. It was more beautiful than any of my clothes and after a few alterations fit me perfectly. She became like a sister to me, holding my hand and whispering in my ear such things as, “Your hair is so pretty.” “Her Majesty is ill-tempered today; wait until tomorrow.” “Shall I teach you a ditty?”

One night as we lay in our beds, Emme asked, “Why do you let Lady Anne fawn over you?”

“You advised me to make new friends,” I replied, and explained how I had agreed to help her and Graham.

“You have a true friend in me. Why do you need a false one as well?” she asked, turning away.

I had no reply to Emme’s question. Seldom did she misjudge anyone, and I began to worry something would go amiss with my suit. I carried the petition everywhere, not wanting to miss an opportunity to give it to the queen. One evening she called for a warm posset, and I carried it to her bedchamber, my hands shaking so, I was afraid of spilling it. She sat in a chair wearing a velvet-trimmed nightgown, her feet in pantofles. She nodded for me to sit on a stool nearby while she drank.

“I am pleased to see Your Majesty is content,” I said, testing her mood. She had not lately reviled her cousin, Queen Mary, so I hoped that crisis had passed.

“I am content,” she said. “Were I a cat, I would purr.” She smiled, showing the radiance that made us all love her. In the candlelight I could barely see the wrinkles bestriding her nose and forehead.

I smiled in return. “I am also content, merely to be in your company.”

“I don’t know why I should be happy.” Elizabeth looked into her cup and swirled the contents as if they would reveal something. “I am no longer young like you. My kingdom has no heir but many enemies.”

“More numerous still are your loyal subjects who long to serve you,” I said, looking directly at her, my heart speeding up.

The queen regarded me for a moment. “You are direct and well spoken, not coy or fearful like most women. I would have you in my government. How is it that a woman can be a queen but not a councilor or an ambassador?”

I swelled with pride at the compliment. I imagined myself a diplomat in the New World, wearing a fur-lined cloak and discoursing with Manteo, perhaps even in his native language.

“To be such a councilor is a dream that only Your Majesty could fulfill,” I said.

After a moment she said, “You have not asked me for anything since you came here. In that regard you are also unusual. But do not forget I am both mother and father to you now, as well as your sovereign.” Her tone was tender and inviting.

I wanted to sit at her feet and share my dreams of being as free as a man to travel to new worlds and seek my fortune and happiness in love. But the petition was in my pocket and I wanted to be rid of it.

So I said, choosing my words with care, “I will ask something, not for myself, but on behalf of another. There is a worthy man who is in need of your grace.”

I produced the letter and knelt, placing it on the queen’s lap. I kept my head down, thinking I had spoken well.

She undid the seal and read the petition, then flung it aside.

“Thomas Graham—a worthy man? I’ll let the rascal guard the villains in Fleet prison, but never my sovereign person.” She sprang to her feet and stood over me. “Why would you, Catherine, take up the cause of this strutting turkey-cock?”

I fell back on my heels, too stunned to reply.

“It shows a defect in your judgment,” said Elizabeth coldly.

“I am not perfect. Nor is Thomas Graham,” I croaked, feeling the tears coming. “But he and Lady Anne are deeply in love!”

As soon as those words left my mouth I realized my error, one that would cost my new friends—and me—dearly.

The queen’s frown deepened into a thundercloud. “None of my ladies may love without my consent! I decide
if
you will marry, and
whom
.” She stamped her foot for emphasis. “Do not forget!”

I left the queen’s chamber in tears and sought out Emme. Finding her at her prayers, I poured out the whole story. She looked at me aghast as her prayerbook slid to the floor.

“How was I to know she hated Graham so much?” I wailed. “Surely Anne could have warned me.”

Emme took me by the shoulders. “Don’t you see? The matter has little to do with Graham. Elizabeth was speaking to you as an intimate—do you know how most of us would die for such words from her?—and you replied by thrusting a petition at her.” Emme shook me. “She wanted to give
you
something, and you abused her generosity.”

“But I thought it was virtuous of me
not
to be self-seeking!” Despair washed over me. “Oh, Emme, I should have listened to you and refused Anne. Now I have lost the queen’s regard.”

She tried to comfort me. “You are still a babe in the ways of this court. If you are lucky, perhaps she will overlook the whole business.”

But the queen was not inclined to forgive or forget. She dismissed Graham from court, sending him back to Kent, and gave Anne a tongue-lashing that left her red-faced and tearful for days. Anne, in turn, accused me of betraying them and ruining her happiness, but Emme defended me.

“You should be glad she did not banish you,” she scolded Anne. “She could have put you and Thomas both in the Tower.”

“At least we would be together!” she wailed. “But now I shall never marry, and you, Catherine,” she threatened, “will live to regret the harm you have done us.”

“I already regret it,” I said mournfully. “But since I intended no hurt, won’t you forgive me?”

She would not, and she let everyone know that I could not be trusted. The other ladies shunned us both, fearing that our misfortune, like a disease, would infect them. They sent their own lovers away, and a virginal hush settled over the court, defying the turmoil beneath its surface.

Loyal Emme remained my friend. Anne found an ally in Frances, who also disliked me for some reason I could never discern. I waited on the queen with a humility so abject it pained me. If she noticed, she gave no sign. I lived in fear that one day her temper would flare up again and that I, like Graham, would be dismissed and disgraced. For I knew that Fortune’s wheel never stops turning.

Elizabeth’s court, which seemed a golden, glorious place when I arrived, was now like a forged coin—not worth a penny. I even thought about leaving. But where could I go and how would I survive?