Jamestown (The Keepers of the Ring) (43 page)

The growing settlement at Jamestown endured another blast of winter, and Edith Rolfe
’s house at Jamestown became an unofficial hospital of sorts for the entire settlement. Many men recovered their health and strength beneath the comforting hands of Edith, Gilda, or Wart, and others were dispatched to heaven, escorted by Fallon’s fervent prayers.

Gilda was glad to see spring come.
The winter had been difficult, with scores of lives lost, and she had wondered whether spring and health would ever return. But the scent of gradually greening earth filled the house and the sea breeze blew warm with the promise of sun and summer. Men’s spirits revived in sunshine, she noticed, and often she helped carry weak men into the yard to lie in the invigorating rays of spring.

One morning she stood at the window, gazing wistfully at the sky as the wind herded scribbles of clouds over the horizon.
“Come with me, Gilda, for a walk on the shore,” Brody called, smiling at her as he came up the path to the house. “‘Tis too pretty to be staying inside, if you take me meaning.”

“
I’m coming,” she called, her spirits rising at the thought of a carefree walk by the water. She tossed her shawl over one shoulder and sped through the door. Brody gently took her arm as they walked to the shore, and she liked the way his protective touch made her feel. After two years of service in the regiment at Jamestown fort, Brody had developed a good reputation for himself. At twenty-four, he was well-favored and more than passing handsome, with a pleasant face, a good pair of shoulders, the thickest arms she’d ever seen, and an easy, open manner. He had put off his red uniform for good, he told Gilda, and now he wore brown breeches of leather and an open-collared shirt of linen that suited his carefree attitude.

“
So I’ve saved my wages, and I could depart for my journey within a month,” he said, sunshine breaking across his face. “But I won’t go alone.”

“
In sooth, you’ve always talked about the dozen men you’ll hire to carry home your gold,” she said, laughing up at him. “How will you choose this fortunate few?”

“
Men are cheap and plentiful in this town; ‘tis not men I’m waiting for,” he said, stopping on the shore. He stood before her with the confidence of a healthy young man who has never been hurt, and for a moment her heart twisted. She knew what he wanted to say, and with everything in her she hoped he wouldn’t say it.

She shifted uneasily.
“We should be getting back now, Brody,” she said, not sure how to lead him away from the question that burned in his eyes. “Wart hath his hands full with the sick at the house—”

“
Wait, Gilda.” His voice was quiet, tranquil, and stubborn. She steeled her nerves to hear him out. “I’ll be wanting to leave Jamestown,” he said simply, holding his hands behind his back, “but I won’t be going without a wife.”

“Well, I’ve heard that the Virginia Company plans to bring a shipload of women very soon.”

“
I know.” He ran his hands through his hair in a detached motion. “In sooth, Fallon and I have pooled our money to buy a bride because we’re both thinking ‘tis our duty to help settle this place with families. But I don’t want an English maiden, Gilda. I want you.”

She scarcely heard the last part of his declaration, so stunned was she by the news that Fallon and Brody were among the men waiting for the ship of brides.
The scheme had been launched back at the first meeting of the General Assembly a year before, and the planters had steadily been setting aside tobacco to purchase what were promised to be “sweet and tractable English virgins.”

“
And did you think you would share a woman?” she snapped, furious questions rising in her head like bees from a disturbed hive.

“
Nay, and have I said such a thing? I’ll be wanting to marry you, Gilda, ‘twas my plan from the first. But I wouldn’t be here if not for Fallon, and since he promised to give me your hand, I thought it only fair to help him secure a bride of his own.”

“
He promised to give you my hand?” Slowly she pushed the words across to him. “What right hath he to make such a promise? I am not his daughter, nor his sister, nor his possession. And you, Brody McRyan, can you be thinking that I will jump for joy because you want to marry me?”

He backed away, honestly startled by her sudden declaration of war.
“Gilda,” he said, raking his hair again, “be sensible. Fallon said you should marry a Christian man, which I am, and I’m two years younger than he, so I’m closer to your age, and we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Are we?” she replied bitingly, crossing her arms.

“
We are, mind you,” he said calmly, stepping closer. “We have worked together, played together, laughed and cried—i’faith, you saved my life, so my life is naturally yours.” He thrust his hands into the waistband of his breeches and gave a short laugh. “In sooth, Gilda, Fallon and I just want to see you happy . . .”

She felt as if a rock had fallen
through her heart. She looked toward the distant sea and felt herself slipping into a devouring gulf of despair. That cursed English superiority had reared its head again, though she had hoped never to hear it from the lips of Fallon and Brody:
We want to make you happy, we know what is best, leave your Indian ways and follow our example . . .

“
Gilda,” Brody went on, his warm hand gripping her upper arm, “do you remember the day when you saved us from Opechancanough? There in the woods, you cried in my arms.”

“
I remember,” she whispered, not daring to look at him.

“
Don’t you see?” he went on, his voice strengthening, “ever since that day I’ve wanted to marry you. I don’t want a bride from England, I want you. I’m waiting for you, Gilda, and when y’are ready to come inland with me, we’ll set out and find whatever treasures this country hath to offer!”

She forced herself to look at him despite the pain that raked at her heart.
His eyes shone with such longing and sincerity that she could not bring herself to speak the truth. Better to avoid it, ignore it, make an excuse. “I can’t leave, Brody,” she finally whispered. “There’s my work with the sick—”

“
Edith and Wart can handle it. You’ve taught Edith everything you know about medicine anyway, haven’t I said so? And I hear an English physician is coming on the next ship.”

“
But Fallon needs me, he’s so busy with his travels and his work on the Council—”

“
Fallon told me to take you away. How old are you, Gilda, seventeen? You should have married long ago. Fallon wants to be married, but until you are settled and happy—”

“
Fallon wants a sweet and tractable English wife,” she said, her voice hard and brittle in her ears. “And I am of certain not cut of that cloth.”

Brody shrugged.
“Y’are all that I want, and more. Marry me, Gilda, and come away with me. We can go next month, next week, or even on the morrow. Just say the word.”

She wanted to clap her hands over her ears; her chest and belly burned with hurt and rage.
Fallon had told Brody to take her away, still ordering her life as if she were five years old. Despite all she had done for and with him over the past year, he preferred to make a life with some ignorant English girl who would melt in the heat of a Virginia summer and faint at the sight of blood. But his English children would be fair-skinned and red-haired, and no trace of Indian blood would come near them.

The fires within her shot upward and outward and in an instant of decision, she threw herself into Brody
’s arms and pulled his head to hers for a rough tender kiss that left him gasping for breath. The wind blew her hair across her face when she pulled away, and she smiled in gratitude because Brody would not see the storm in her eyes. He reached for her again, but she put out a hand and, whirling in the wind, raced away and left him on the beach.

thirty-four

B
ecause Jamestown served mainly as a transfer post for emigrants who arrived from across the sea, less than one hundred people lived permanently at the settlement. Fallon certainly never considered building or finding a permanent place to live on the peninsula. When his work called him to the port, he usually divided his time between Edith Rolfe’s house and the keeping room of the Jamestown tavern. He did not enjoy the uncouth bustle of the tavern’s public room, but ofttimes he found himself too distracted to think clearly at Edith’s house. Gilda’s voice, her smile, even the warm scent of her femininity filled every room, and Fallon found it simpler to find a table at the tavern and ignore the brawling drunks and foreigners around him.

He had just finished his dinner of peas and loblolly, a common dish of cornmeal mixed with water, when Brody sauntered into the public room and caught Fallon
’s eye. He approached with the air of a conquering hero, pulling back a stool and straddling it. “Well,” he said, the grooves beside his mouth deepening into a full smile that was at once lazy, complacent, and smug, “she’s all yours.”

“
Who?” Fallon had been about to consider a brick maker’s proposal to enlarge Edith’s house, but he set the parchment aside as he looked at his friend. “Who’s all mine?”

“
I’ve been to see Gilda,” Brody went on, leaning confidently on the table. “And I’ve talked to her—”

Brody paused and grinned wickedly across the table as
adrenaline quickened Fallon’s heartbeat. What in the world had Brody said to her?

“
Yea, I surrender my claim here and now,” Brody said, slapping the table in his eagerness. “Forget me part in the venture, the prize is yours, me friend. Claim the first English beauty that catches your eye, for the bride shall belong to you, and I’ll not quibble about it. Gilda hath agreed to marry me.”

Fallon felt his flesh contract as if a chill wind had blown over him.
His foolish hopes had been naught but fantasies to make life bearable. ‘Twas right that Gilda should marry Brody; with the possible exception of Noshi, of certain no man alive would be a better husband for her.

He forced himself to smile in congratulations and lowered his eyes to the table.
“What did you tell her?” he asked, smoothing the emotions that threatened to erupt in his voice. “I thought she intended to return to the Indian village to marry her warrior.”

“
Nay,” Brody answered, laughing. “Truth to tell, I trow she’s forgotten all about him. I told her that things would be changing now that I was ready to leave, and that you had put up money for one of the English girls—”

“
You told her that?”

“
Of course.” Brody’s face shone as innocent as a child’s. “And naturally I said that I didn’t care about the English girls, for I wanted her. And then she kissed me—”

“
I see,” Fallon interrupted, clearing his throat. He picked up the brick maker’s proposal and pretended to read, but after a moment he put it down and looked at Brody again. “You know, Brody, in sooth, I thought
you
wanted an English bride. If you wanted Gilda, why didn’t you declare your intentions long before this?”

“
I wasn’t ready,” Brody answered, frowning as if the question had offended him. “And I told you months ago that I wanted to marry Gilda. ‘Tis only natural that I should be wanting to marry her, being that she’s an Indian. She knows her way through the woods—”

“
If ‘tis an Indian guide you want, you could hire one of the scouts for a pound of copper and a few beads. He’d be a lot less trouble than that girl.”

Brody
’s gazed fixed on Fallon with a knowing look. “She’s never lit into me the way she does you. And, if you take me meaning, I think she’s rather fond of me.”

“
Fond of you?” Fallon whispered, hearing an edge of desperation in his voice. “Don’t you think love should play a part in something as serious as the holy ordinance of marriage?”

“
I’ll love Gilda more than you’ll love the total stranger y’are taking off the boat,” Brody retorted. His face flushed, and Fallon realized he was risking Gilda’s welfare. If he continued to bait Brody, he’d likely abandon the idea of marriage, and Gilda needed a good Christian husband. Marrying her to Brody was better than having her return to a heathen warrior, and as surely as the sun would rise on the morrow, she would never consent to marry Fallon.

“
Y’are right, of course,” Fallon said, making an effort to gain control of his feelings. “I’m sorry, Brody, it’s just that I see her as a younger sister, and naturally I want the very best for her—”

“
Well, you can be certain I’ll take care of her,” Brody said, his good humor restored. He crossed his ankle upon his knee and called out to the tavern keeper. “Two jugs of the best o’ whatever you got for me and Fallon here, right away!”

The bewhiskered tavern keeper nodded and scurried to his storeroom.
“Well, have patience with her nightmares, and take care to keep a light burning,” Fallon said, tearing his eyes from the joy in Brody’s face. “She’s waked the house more than once with her cries.”

“
There’ll be no nightmares when I’m sleeping by her side,” Brody said, nodding confidently.

“
And dandelions make her sneeze,” Fallon added quietly. “Once, when we were children, I gave her one and she pressed it to her nose and inhaled—” Fallon shook himself out of his reverie and smiled in embarrassment. “Anyway, she sneezed for a week, and her mother fussed at me for longer than that.”

“
No dandelions,” Brody promised.

Fallon studied the paper in his hand a minute more, then slapped it down upon the table and leaned closer toward Brody.
“Whatever you do,” he said, his voice heavy with dread, “keep her away from Opechancanough. She cannot see the danger there, but I know him, Brody, and he is the devil’s own instrument. The savages say he is immortal.”

“
Come now,” Brody burst out, shocked. “You can’t be believin’ that!”

“
I know not,” Fallon shook his head. “I don’t know if God would allow such a thing, but Opechancanough is far more powerful today than he was when he ordered my execution thirteen years ago. Watch him, Brody, and keep Gilda away from him.”

Brody made the sign of a cross over his heart and lifted his right hand as if taking a vow.
“I swear it. Now, Fallon, will you hush and let me enjoy thoughts of me marriage?”

Fallon waved his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“I have said enough,” he said, picking up the parchment again.
And I am resigned to being caught in a web of my own weaving.
After a moment, he looked up: “When is the blessed event to take place?”

“
I don’t know,” Brody answered, frowning. “She didn’t say.”

“
Well, what did she say?” Fallon pressed, pretending an offhanded interest while he skimmed the proposal before him. “Mayhap I can divine something from her words. Did she say, ‘Yea, as soon as possible I’ll marry you’ or some similar thing?”

“
Nay,” Brody answered, his frown deepening. “She didn’t say yea or nay. She just kissed me, then ran away.”

Fallon lifted his eyes to Brody
’s. “No answer? Just a kiss?”

“
A kiss is a bonny good answer,” Brody answered, his lower lip jutting forward in the stubborn expression Fallon knew well. “You don’t kiss a man unless you intend to marry him.”

“
Aye, mayhap y’are right,” Fallon said, scratching his chin. The tavern keeper brought two tankards of warm beer, and Brody lifted one in a celebratory toast. “To Gilda and me, and you and your wee English bride,” he said.

Reluctantly, Fallon lifted his mug to join the toast.
“To my bride and yours.”

Edith
’s spring flowers frilled themselves in the late afternoon sun as Fallon approached the house. He paused outside the fence when he saw Gilda sitting on a bench by the front door. She leaned against the house, her eyes closed, and tendrils of dark hair brushed against her throat. She wore a simple blouse and a long English skirt, but she had pulled the skirt up over her knees in an effort to feel the sun’s warmth on her legs.

Fallon averted his eyes from the tempting sight and with the silent movements of an Indian he jumped the fence and crept near.
He had hoped to surprise her, but her blue eyes flew open as his shadow crossed her face.

He had rehearsed his opening comments so that no unexpected emotions might trip his tongue.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” he said, removing his hat. “Brody tells me that you two are to be married.”

“‘
Twould would appear so,” she answered, lowering her eyes as she appeared to study her hands. “I understand that you are to be married, too.”

“‘
Twould appear so,” he said, then he laughed at the echo of her words. He shifted his weight, as awkward as a schoolboy, then gestured toward the bench. “Do you mind if I sit a while? We have so little time to talk these days.”

She did not answer, but slid to make room for him, and he sat next to her, uncomfortably aware of the pressure of her arm against his.
He thought could sense the texture of her soft skin even through the rough linen of his doublet, and the sensation distracted him. By heaven, mayhap it was time he got married and found a wife of his own.

“
What did you want to talk about?” she asked, turning those blue eyes fully upon him.

He crossed his legs and frowned, trying to maintain the posture befitting the elder brother of a future bride.
“Well, if y’are going to be leaving here, I wondered if Mistress Rolfe is willing to continue caring for the sick and wounded. Brody assures me that you’ve taught her all you know of healing—”

“
Now she knows more than I do,” Gilda answered, turning her face to the street. “The younger boys see her as a mother and thrive under her care.”

“
So you won’t mind leaving, then?”

Her face was inscrutable as she looked at him.
“When ‘tis time to leave, I’ll know.”

A companionable silence fell between them, and Fallon folded his hands to overcome the urge to hold one of hers.
“We’ve been together some time now,” he said, nodding to acknowledge the friendly wave of a man passing by the house. “I thank God that he brought me to you so soon after my arrival. ‘Twould seem he hath worked his purpose in our lives.”

“
Are our lives nearly done?” Gilda asked, a smile in her voice. “Can he not continue to work?”

“
Yea, of course, I just meant that our time—yours and mine—would seem to be done.”

He glanced sideways to see if she would look at him, but she kept her eyes on the front gate and her expression did not change.
From inside the house, Fallon heard Edith call for Wart to bring her a cup of sassafras tea, and a moment later Wart grumbled past the open window.

“
Have you given up the search for Noshi?” Gilda asked, tilting her head to look at him. “You have been so persistent, Fallon, I cannot imagine that you will settle down with a wife and plant tobacco.”

“
I will go where God sends me,” he answered, lazily stretching his legs out in front of him. “And I have strong faith that Noshi will be found. But on his last journey south Reverend Buck learned that the Tripanick tribe hath been annihilated by the pox. Entire villages have been wiped out, so where do I begin to search? Lately I have begun to pray that God would bring him to me as surely as he led me to you.”

A soft laugh escaped Gilda
’s lips. “Prayer! How can you pray such a thing? If I have learned aught about this great God of ours, Fallon, ‘tis that he does what he wants, when he wants to do it. What good are our prayers? I prayed that Pocahontas would return to me, and she did not. I prayed that I would be able to enjoy her son, but John Rolfe left him in England. If what you have told me is true, our parents were murdered even as they bowed on their knees in prayer. So what is the use in praying? Prayer does not change God.”

Fallon shifted on the bench to turn toward her.
“Ofttimes we pray and ask amiss—”

“
Nay, for I have prayed with tears over the bodies of innocent boys in this house, and yet they have died in agony. How can a prayer for the sick be selfish? Despite my prayers to the true God, more men have died here in this house than ever died in our Indian villages where conjurors pray to the spirits of the sun and wind.”

“
Gilda, y’are speaking blasphemy.”

“
Nay, I am not.” Her voice cracked with weariness. “I believe in the true God who created heaven and earth, I always have! And my prayer is pure before him. But I have suffered, Fallon, more than you, and I have prayed with all my heart and soul for—”