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“Hola! Mistress Feake - ” he said. “Pray let me in.”

She opened the door, courteous but unsmiling. “How in the world did you get here, Captain?” she said. “Is the trail clear from Stamford now?”

“Didn’t come from Stamford,” said Underhill, poking at the kitchen fire and turning to warm his buttocks. “From New Amsterdam. I just landed. My ship’s in the cove, two more’ll soon be here.”

Elizabeth walked to her one glazed window, rubbed off the hoar frost and saw a large Dutch yacht at anchor by Green Island. There were a dozen soldiers on her icy little beach, pulling up a longboat.

“What is this about, Captain?” she said, going back to the hearth and swinging the crane with its iron pot full of snow water over the fire.

“We’re massing here for the attack, Mistress,” Underhill said, watching her closely. “General de la Montagne and I are in command of a fair-sized force. Larger than last September. The job’ll get done this time.”

Elizabeth turned and examined him. A thick-set dark man of forty-six, new wrinkles on the weathered cheeks, a touch of grey in the moustache, but the same rather sardonic smile on the sensual mouth, and in the black eyes the same mixture of malice, boldness, and determination.

“Surely,” she said, “you are not still meaning to attack the Siwanoys?”

“Indeed we are,” he answered.

She raised her square cleft chin and stared coldly into his startled eyes. “I forbid it,” she said.

For an instant of dismay he was reminded of her uncle, Governor Winthrop. Then he burst into sharp laughter. “Oh, my fair Bess, ye’ve not changed as much as I first thought. The same fiery spirit. But ‘twon’t do. Ye can neither forbid not permit.”

“This is my house, Captain Underhill, and these are my lands. I forbid you to use this as a base., and as the - only surviving and competent patroon of Greenwich, I forbid you to attack the Siwanoys who have naught to do with you at Stamford.”

Underhill laughed again, more kindly. “Brave words, Mistress. I admire your courage, though I don’t admire an Indian-lover. But I tell ye, you can’t help yourself, whatever maggot ye’ve got in your pretty little head. ‘Tis from here we march for the attack.” Indeed the Feake house had been specially chosen for this purpose after long debate at Fort Amsterdam. Chosen for its isolation, which made premature discovery by the Siwanoys unlikely, and also for its comparative nearness to Petuquapan. The rough location of the latter Siwanoy Fort Underhill had now ascertained. He was an experienced tactician, and a canny Indian fighter. Since selling his services to the Dutch last autumn, he had been successful in several minor skirmishes with the Long Island Indians. The time had come for a major victory.

“Where is your General de la Montagne?” said Elizabeth. “I shall appeal to him. As I remember him at Kieft’s Council Table he looked a sensible man.”

“He is, my dear,” said Underhill. “And therefore he agrees with me. Come, come, Mistress, this is very - ” He broke off, twisting his head towards the lean-to door. “By God, what’s that? You’ve got some beast closed in there? Yet it sounds like laughter.”

She did not answer, but he saw her face before she turned abruptly. With an indrawn breath, he said, “Forgive me. I didn’t guess. Baxter told me what had happened to Mr. Feake, but I didn’t know ‘twas like that. Poor lass - ” he said, and he put his hand on her shoulder.

Elizabeth moved away. How can I stop them? she thought. How can I warn the Siwanoys? Later when the other soldiers have come, They won’t be watching me. But could she get through the snow and across the Mianus by herself on a trail she’d never followed? Angell Husted then - but he was ill with an inflammation on his lungs, and were he well, she wasn’t sure how he’d act. If I went by boat? she thought Daniel’s rowboat, take young Danny with me, he knows where it is. Yet how to get down the cove past the Dutch ships, and through all the floating ice. I must try it on foot, she decided, her heart beating fast. There was nobody else who would go. Certainly not Toby, who came downstairs from the loft and was pleased to see Underhill.

“ ‘Twas about time you came,” he said gruffly. “I hear a man was tomahawked over to Norwalk last week.”

“Aye,” said Underhill. “Nawthorne says ‘twas done by a Siwanoy.”

“Nawthorne!” cried Elizabeth involuntarily. “What do you know of Nawthorne?”

“A great deal,” said Underhill, and hesitated, wondering in view of her evident feelings how much it was wise to tell. All these Greenwich folk were daft apparently when it came to the Indians. “Nawthorne came to me from Tomac village some time ago,” he .said quickly. “I was going to make him suffer for the diddling that half-wit son o’ his gave Baxter, and - ” he paused, went on with an ironic shrug, “ - and Patrick. Nawthorne offered to spy for us. I took him to New Amsterdam. He’s on the ship now. He hates that new Siwanoy chief they’ve got. Keoff - something. Nawthorne’ll be our guide to the Fort tonight.”

“He’s a devilish Indian,” Elizabeth said. “He murdered the Labdens.”

“Maybe he did,” said Underhill. “But he’ll guide us to the Fort because he knows he’ll be well paid if he does and shot if he doesn’t.”

“I - I must go to Anneke,” murmured Elizabeth faintly. “Must tell her the soldiers are here. She’ll help me ready things for you; we have little beer but we have some cider, we could make you some journey cakes - ” She moved towards the door, and Underhill stopped her.

“Oh no, my dear. We’ve brought our own provisions, thank ye, and you will stay right here, and so will your children. Toby Feake may go and tell Mrs. Patrick if he pleases.” He made Elizabeth a small malicious bow.

Later, she thought, surely I can slip out somehow.

But later it began to snow, a dense swirling whiteness that hid every landmark. The soldiers stayed on board the anchored ships. General de la Montagne came ashore and with him Ensign Van Dyke. The Huguenot councillor was pleasant and grave, but he spoke no English. Neither did Ensign Van Dyke. Underhill watched Elizabeth constantly. She had no chance even for a private word with Anneke. The snow continued all night. Nobody slept but the children, and Robert. He had seen armoured soldiers through his little barred window and become very disturbed. He had begun to shriek something about a pistol and blood. Elizabeth finally gave him laudanum.

By noon next day the dazzling sun came out and the snowfall proved to have been only four inches. All the soldiers landed and were ready for the march. Toby was going with them. Elizabeth profited by a moment when Underhill was conferring with General de la Montagne on the doorstep. And to Toby she made one last despairing plea.

“Toby, can’t you stop them? You know this is a wicked, horrible thing to do. Stop them somehow.”

“An” get shot in the head for a traitor like Patrick!” he said roughly. “What’s more I don’t want to. High time Ben’s death was paid off. Leave be, Aunt, ye’re acting silly as my uncle. This is not woman’s business.”

“Ready, Feake?” asked Underhill, sticking his head in the door. “Nawthorne says this night’ll be even better than last. They’ve got some kind o’ religious powwow going on. Feasting. And all the nearby tribes’ve come into the Fort with the Siwanoys. Might be seven hundred o’ them, maybe more.”

“Seven hundred!” repeated Elizabeth. “And you’ve not a quarter of that. This is rash and useless, Captain Underhill. Surely the General doesn’t mean to attack when he’s so outnumbered!”

“Ye’ve forgot what we did at Mystic in the Pequot war,” said Underhill. “We got ‘em then and we’ll get ‘em now - by surprise.
By surprise,”
he repeated, looking at Elizabeth with the sardonic twist to his brows. “ ‘Tis too late for any misguided person to give warning, let alone that any such’d perish in the snow or get eaten by wolves! Come on, Feake!”

Again as she had in September, Elizabeth watched them march off. Underhill and de la Montagne tramped in the lead with the Tomac sachem, Nawthorne, between them. A- long rope around Nawthorne’s waist was attached to Underbill’s sword belt Behind went Toby and the armoured soldiers with their muskets and pistols and bandoliers, single file, plodding through the snow. Ensign Van Dyke marched in the rear. She waited until they disappeared amongst the black tree trunks to the north. Then she floundered up the snowy path to Anneke’s. “Oh, what’ll we do?” she cried, bursting into the kitchen.

Anneke was polishing her Dutch hearth tiles. She looked up sadly. “Ve can do nothing, Bess. And perhaps Toby is right. Ve are not safe vith all those Indians so near us.” She sighed. “My Daniel vouldn’t have died had I not urged him to folly. That hurts me here - ” She put her hand to her breast. “And now I must pray for Toby, that he comes back.”

“So it is only Toby you think of!” Elizabeth cried. “His opinions, his safety. How you’ve changed!”

Anneke bent over her tiles, rubbing at a speck on the blue-and-white Noah’s Ark. “Ve have all changed, Bess,” she said very low. “Needs must.”

Elizabeth returned to her own house, where the children were in high spirits, delighted at this break in the monotonous winter days, eager to talk about the soldiers, and Captain Underhill.

“I like him!” said Lisbet. “He told me I was fair as a lily. He gave me a ribbon off his doublet. Look!” She held out a fragment of yellow silk, “He said ‘twas ‘like my hair’.” She tossed her silver-gold curls and simpered a little.

Elizabeth did not glance at the ribbon. She went into Robert’s room and found him still asleep. She walked to the lean-to’s cove window and gazed out towards the ragged line of bare snowy trees on the Mianus Neck shore. Somewhere, many miles past that to the west, lay Petuquapan.

Telaka, she thought. “Telaka!” With a desperate concentration she tried to call the squaw, to project the summons through the thin, bright, winter air. “Danger, Telaka!” Over and over she said it in her mind. “Danger, Telaka! Warn Keofferam!” She stood by the window until the lowering sun turned red.

At last Robert whimpered and sat up on his bed. “Ralph! Listen to me!” he said clearly in the high babbling voice. “I’d not hurt you if you’d answer. Then it wouldn’t happen, though the silver cream jug’s not been delivered to Milady Brooke yet. Near Ludgate, Ralph, that’s where she lives. Mind there’s no blood on the cream jug. Always wash it off, Ralph, blood makes clean.”

Elizabeth walked over to the bed. “Hush,” she said. “Get up, Rob. I’ll get you some food.”

He glanced at her sideways. His hands slowly began their rubbing motion, but he got out of bed and sat down in his chair while she covered his frail skinny body with a blanket

It was the greatest victory against the Indians there had ever been in the whole New World. Greater even than the Battle of Mystic. Captain Underhill said so the next evening in his Stamford home as he recounted the triumph to leading Stamford settlers - Andrew Ward, Matthew Mitchell, Richard Lawe. After the battle General de la Montagne and Underhill had marched their men straight back from Stamford, where the fifteen wounded could be properly nursed.

“Only fifteen sick, what a marvel, and most of those just frostbite I” cried Underhill, his eyes shining. “Only one dead tool What good fortune we had I”

He waited modestly for the expected disclaimer which came at once.

“ ‘Tis not fortune, except as God was on the Christian side,” said Andrew Ward. “ ‘Twas your military leadership. Your great leadership.”

“Well - ” said Underhill with a glance at de la Montagne who sat quietly sipping beer, and trying to understand the English talk. “Of course, the General was there too. I can’t take all the credit.”

De la Montagne bowed as he saw the men looking at him, then he turned away. He was neither as young nor exuberant as Underhill. The last twenty-four hours had exhausted him, nor was he elated by the outcome.

Massacre! he thought to himself.
Meurtre.
Near a thousand unsuspecting Indian men, women, and children roasted alive,
Le Directeur Generale
would be enchanted. There was no doubt that Indian resistance had been entirely shattered here. There could be no Indians left in these parts to resist. As for the eastern tribes toward the Connecticut they would be terrified,
Une belle victoire,
thought de la Montagne wryly. He wrapped his cloak about his ears to shut out the sound of Underhill’s strident voice, eagerly describing the battle.

“We got to the Mianus River about eight o’clock, and had to ford it. ‘Twas fearful cold, and bright moonlight. That bugger Nawthorne guided us all right, but once we crossed the river we didn’t need him. You could hear the Indians, they were singing and howling and dancing in their bark huts, and when we got over a steep hill ‘twas easy to see their town in the moonlight. Built under the brow of a long cliff it was. A good thing for us. They couldn’t escape at the rear, because of the cliff.”

“Didn’t they hear you coming?” asked Mr. Lawe.

“Not a bit, they were making so much noise at their feasting. We’d time to surround the town and build a bonfire in readiness before they heard us. They ran out then - some of the young bucks - but we shot ‘em down before they’d time to aim properly. Our armour mostly turns the arrows, anyhow. Well, we forced ‘em all back into their wigwams, like at Mystic, then we flung firebrands over the bark roofs, and retreated beyond arrow’s length to watch. We’d not long to wait until the whole town was in flames.”

“Aye,” said Andrew Ward, nodding. “By God’s Providence a brisk wind was blowing last night. Did any escape?”

“I doubt it,” said Underhill. “We shot down the few that ran out. The rest stayed in. Odd thing, you know - they didn’t make a sound, not a cry, not a scream while they burned up.”

There was a brief silence before Mr. Mitchell said slowly. “No one has ever denied their courage. Pity they’ve no knowledge of
other
Christian virtues as well.”

Helena, Underhill’s fat gloomy Dutch wife, came in with a fresh tankard of beer, poured into all the mugs and went back to the kitchen.

“We are very grateful to you, Captain,” said Andrew Ward. “And Governor Kieft’ll certainly be when he hears of last night’s work. I trust he won’t reward you with Dutch land so tempting that you won’t come back to us in Stamford.”