Jamestown (The Keepers of the Ring) (44 page)

Her flood of words stopped abruptly, and she lowered her head as if she were exhausted.
“My prayers have not changed the face of our angry God,” she whispered, tears tangling in her lashes. “I have tried to walk rightly before him, and yet still he punishes me.”

“
God is not punishing you,” Fallon answered, gathering the courage to slip his arm around her shoulders in a gesture of brotherly concern. “He hath blessed you, but you will not see it. But when you marry Brody, a fine Christian man, he will take you from this place of death and disease—”

“
And you? she whispered, lowering her head to his shoulder.

“
I will be a friend closer than a brother,” he said, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. He rested his cheek upon the tumbling, silken mass, then pressed his lips to it and smiled when she nestled closer. “If you only knew, Gilda, how deeply your name is carved upon my heart! You would not worry about the future, for just as God brought me to you when you needed a brother, now he hath brought Brody to you for a husband.”

She seemed to stiffen under his arm, and he released her from the embrace as she pulled away.
Of course, she was trying to act the part of an engaged woman; ‘twouldn’t be proper for her to be seen cuddling with Fallon in public, no matter how innocent their relationship.

Fallon picked up his hat and stood.
“Do not stop praying, Gilda,” he said, bending down to search her face.

She avoided his eyes and would not answer.

By 1620, English and Dutch vessels landed regularly at Jamestown, but when the fabled and long-awaited ship of brides anchored off the docks, a hue and cry echoed along the streets and runners raced to the far-flung plantations. “Fetch your bride in two day’s time,” the runners called as they hurried throughout the settlements. “Bring your warrants to the secretary’s office.”

At his favorite table in the tavern
’s public room, Fallon worried the slip of paper entitling him to a bride between his fingers. Brody had been more than generous to provide half of the amount necessary to purchase the warrant of entitlement, but Fallon had the uneasy feeling that Brody had given the money only to rid himself of a rival for Gilda’s affection. Still, Brody’s contribution had been significant, for not only did the warrant guarantee Fallon a wife, but by means of the headright, which authorized anyone to claim fifty acres of land for each individual whom he brought into Virginia, Fallon would soon be a propertied man.

Brody, of course, had no interest in acreage or planting, but Fallon was sorely tempted by the thought of venturing forth to found his own settlement.
There he would build a house, plant tobacco and enough food to feed his workers, and run a school for the proper education of children. He shifted in his chair, distracted by thoughts of a sturdy village like Ocanahonan, where Indian and Englishmen would be free to follow God’s purpose for their lives. He knew such a place could exist, for he had been born in such a village, and with Gilda and Noshi at his side—

Reality cut through his dream like a scalpel.
Gilda would not be by his side. The woman whose arrival would provide his fifty acres was yet a stranger, an intriguing, unsettling image in his imagination.

Edith had gone to the fort to dose a dozen ailing soldiers, so Gilda left Wart in charge of the house while she slipped out the front gate and joined the crowd that streamed toward the docks.
Earlier she had resolved to stay away, telling herself that she cared not one whit about the woman Fallon might choose to be his wife, but an inordinate and devouring curiosity would not let her rest. Like the others of Jamestown, she hurried to the river’s edge to see what sort of women the London Company had managed to procure for the desperately lonely men of Jamestown.

On any other day Gilda or even Edith would not have been able to walk through the settlement without attracting every male glance and at least a dozen ribald or admiring comments.
But today she moved among the planters and merchants as if she were invisible, for every eye had fastened onto the galleon at anchor in the river.

At least fifty freshly shaven and bathed men waited in a line upon the dock, each clutching a slip of parchment.
The governor’s secretary waited with the first man in line, and though she stood on tiptoe and craned her neck, Gilda could see no sign of Fallon in the line, nor was he in the curious crowd of servants, Indians, and traders who had come to observe the festive parade of ladies.

A cry rose from the men on the shore, and she looked up as a shallop, heavily laded with colorful passengers, appeared from behind the ship. The women aboard squealed with each scend of the rough water, and the oarsmen grinned in delight as they brought their treasure to shore. Gilda frowned. If these simple wenches carried on so because of the motion of a sturdy shallop, how would they fare in a delicately balanced canoe?

The shallop pulled alongside the dock, and the crowd on shore pressed forward in anticipation.
Gilda wanted to walk away, so great was her disgust at the fawning attitude of the men around her, but feminine curiosity would not let her leave.

A dozen hands were extended to the first woman who climbed from the boat to the dock, and the crowd fell back with an audible gasp of surprise when the newcomer turned to survey her new community.
All thoughts of derision left Gilda’s mind, for never in her life had she seen an Englishwoman in the full blaze of adornment.

She had never imagined that one person could wear such an abundance of ribbon and fabric, and yet each approaching woman seemed determined to outdo her companions.
Out of the shallop came a dozen virgin brides-to-be dressed in pleated skirts that jutted out from their tiny waists as if their hips were monstrously wide. Lace edged every hem and garnished two dozen cuffs and split sleeves. Pearls glistened from ropes around their necks, and several ladies wore pearl buttons that began at the neckline and continued down to the front edge of their dresses. Each woman’s petal-pink complexion was framed by a monstrously large collar that rose stiffly behind her head, and if that weren’t enough, each bride wore a heavily plumed hat. As their feathery fans fluttered in the hot ocean breeze, Gilda thought they looked like fragile butterflies upon the dock.

“
All right,” the secretary boomed once the first boatload of women stood safely upon the deck. “Which twelve gentlemen will vie for these first twelve ladies? Gentlemen, approach the lady of your choice, and ladies, if he doesn’t please you, kindly defer and wait for the next man.”

The first dozen men in line upon the dock fell as silent as awkward schoolboys, and the raucous crowd on the beach roared in delight.
“Take the bonny brunette, Ned,” someone cried out. “And ask her if she’s got a sister!”

Gilda lifted her chin, disturbed at the scene before her.
While they were certainly dressed to attract attention, the women on the dock were not young, and most of their painted faces bore the look of hard experience. One woman brazenly advanced toward the men, her lips set in a crimson sneer, and the man at the head of the line backed away from her so suddenly that he fell into the river. While the men on shore roared with laughter, the second man in line extended his hand to her, surrendered his warrant to the secretary, and waved to his cheering comrades as he led his bride off the dock toward the church where the minister waited to pronounce them man and wife.

“
I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

The voice spoke in her ear, and Gilda looked up to see Brody next to her, an expression of concern on his face.
“Don’t you think you should wait at the house? Truth to tell, this isn’t a safe place for a woman. What if one of these men decides to take you home with him?”

“
I’m not for sale,” she replied lightly, turning to go. But she paused at the sight of the warrant in Brody’s hand.

“
Ah, this,” he said, noticing her startled expression. “And y’are wondering if I’m planning on taking two wives. Nay. Fallon sent me down here to have a look around. He’s coming later.”

“
He is.” Her voice was flat in her own ears, and she made a weak attempt to smile. “Well, the ladies are dressed well enough. There’s enough fabric in one of those skirts to outfit the women of an entire Indian village.”

Brody lifted his head to scan the docks, and Gilda noticed that the scene held as much fascination for him as it had for her.
“Y’are right,” he said finally, still watching as another shallop prepared to unload its female cargo. “Fallon will not have an easy time of choosing amongst so many beauties.”

She left him gawking in the crowd.

Brody watched until only a dozen unclaimed women remained.
The secretary, who assured them that many of the planters had not yet had time to travel to Jamestown from their prosperous estates, consoled these brides, who had been spoken for. “They will be given a week,” the secretary said, his beard bobbing vigorously against his doublet as he sought to assuage their ruffled feelings. “Then you will be free to accept the attentions and proposals of any of our other fine citizens of Virginia.”

Properly mollified, the brides followed the secretary off the dock, and the observing crowd on the shore parted like the Red Sea as they passed through.
Brody watched with his mouth open as they rustled past in gleaming silk and taffeta, then he turned and sprinted toward the public house where he knew he’d find Fallon.

Fallon was hunched over a book of records and scarcely looked up when Brody burst in upon him.
“Name of a name, why do you sit here!” Brody demanded, leaning on the table. “I saw them, Fallon, and they’re beautiful! Not exactly young, I’ll warrant, but this morning I saw redheads, and blondes, and brunettes with eyes to make a man’s bones melt—”

“
I’m not interested,” Fallon answered, turning a page in the book before him. He dipped his pen in an inkwell and made a notation on the page while Brody stuttered in amazement.

“
Not interested? There’s a woman and fifty acres of whatever land you chose waiting out there—how can you say y’are not interested?”

“
I’m not, that’s all,” Fallon answered. He put down his pen and looked up at Brody. “I’ve been thinking about it, and praying, and I don’t think I can marry a woman just to gain fifty acres.”

“
Then marry her because she’s soft and gentle and hath what every man needs,” Brody whispered intently. He pulled up a stool and crouched on it, his face inches away from Fallon’s. “Listen, me friend, but this celibate life we’re living here isn’t exactly natural, you know. ‘Tisn’t God’s plan for man nor beast. Now I’ve given you half of the warrant we hold, and you worked hard for the other half, so how can you let it go to waste? Go out there and claim a bride!”

Fallon sat with battleship solidity and picked up his pen.
“I told you, Brody, I’m not interested.”

Brody slapped his hand on the table in exasperation, and crossed his legs, thinking.
Months ago Fallon had been more than interested, even eager, to marry, but something had happened in the interim period . . . then, in a breathless instant of understanding, he knew the truth. “Name of a name,” he muttered slowly, fixing Fallon with his gaze. “Y’are in love with Gilda.”

Fallon flinched ever so slightly, then he smiled and toyed with the feather quill in his hand.
“I care for her deeply, but you know that,” he said, his voice calm and eminently reasonable. “But she hates me, so how could I possibly love her?”

“
She doesn’t hate you,” Brody answered, plagued by dark suspicions. “Mayhap she dislikes you—”

“
Welladay, you see how it is, then,” Fallon said, lifting his hand in a theatrical gesture. “How can a man love someone who resists his every thought and word? Nay, Brody, I do not love Gilda, except fondly, as a sister. I give her to you with my blessing. And for now, I am not interested in taking a wife. There is too much to be done here in Jamestown for me to leave and become a planter.” He frowned and leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Did you know that some in the council are actually talking of selling men as
chattel slaves
?”

“
Slaves?” Brody crinkled his forehead. “How is that different from selling men as we do now?”

“
Indentured service is a choice, and only lasts for a certain time,” Fallon said, closing the book that rested on the table. “And then the master is required to establish the servant in his new life of freedom. But slavery, Brody, is for life, and the slave has no choice in the matter! I can’t imagine that the Assembly would ever allow such a thing in Virginia.”

“
Well—” Brody was about to argue that many of the prisoners sent from England to serve life sentences upon the plantations were virtual slaves already, but he was interrupted when a man burst into the public room.

“
A massacre!” the man shouted, his face red with exertion. “Four days ago at Falling Creek! All are killed but one!”

Brody and Fallon exchanged a meaningful glance, then followed the other men to the fort.