Riverbreeze: Part 2 (4 page)

“Yes, sir.” Nathan said, and set the sails again.

Robert slowly and painfully got up and seated himself back on the bench next to Elizabeth but he didn’t look at her. He was angry and wouldn’t meet her eyes when she had tried to catch his gaze. He pulled his boots and stockings back on over his wet feet, stamping them loudly on the wooden floor of the boat.

Elizabeth scooted closer to him and hugged his soaking-wet arm. The sleeve of his shirt stuck to his skin and was nearly transparent. “Thank you; thank you.” She whispered fervently, laying her head on his shoulder.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t shake her off either. He allowed her to hug his arm and get herself as wet as she wanted. He was afraid of what he might say if he opened his mouth and he didn’t want to yell at her in front of the servants. So he said nothing and turned his head aside, fixing his stare at the shoreline and concentrating on the way the cattails bent in the wind.

Slowly Elizabeth eased her arm away from him. Robert sat on the bench, huddled and shivering, cursing the cold wind that hit him square on his back, although it was that cold wind that was pushing them so quickly toward their destination. And he still hadn’t said a word to Elizabeth or anyone else, for that matter. He fumed and stared into the woods, holding his temper in check until they reached home. He didn’t know what he would do then, but he would do
something
, like beat that dog or beat her. But he really didn’t want to beat her on their first day of marriage. They hadn’t even consummated their marriage yet; he couldn’t beat her before they had done that, surely. And now he knew exactly how Jamie had felt when the dogs had caused all that trouble in the stables. Is this what they had to look forward to? A life of chaos and trouble around every corner? No, not if he had any say in the matter.

The servants remained quiet, as they should, paying strict attention to their task, keeping the boat straight and steady. Jamie was also shivering in his sleep, although who knew how he could sleep in these conditions! And Evelyn alternated between watching his face and watching the passing scenery, a constant worried look on her face. She had exchanged a silent look with Elizabeth indicating her worry for her, but Elizabeth just shrugged, making a face and rolling her eyes at Robert, letting Evelyn know that
she
wasn’t worried.

Let him stew
, Elizabeth thought petulantly. She wondered if they were ever going to arrive at Riverbreeze, but she couldn’t have known how close they actually were to the property. It was a good thing too because the first drops of rain were beginning to fall. Elizabeth watched unhappily as they plopped into the water and onto the floor of the boat, and when she felt the first drop on her head, she pulled her hood up.

When she glanced over at Robert to see how he was reacting to the rain, she noticed that his posture had changed. He had been hunched over and hugging himself to try to keep, at least, a little bit warm, but now he was sitting up straighter and he had become more alert as if he had seen something in the woods that interested him greatly. She also scanned the woods trying to see what he had seen, but all she could see was trees and underbrush bending in the wind.

“Something has happened. We have a visitor.” Robert whispered to her, as if he had never been angry at her. He narrowed his eyes to sharpen his focus, knowing exactly who was hiding among the trees. “Lower the sails!” He yelled out to Nathan and Dolnick. “Pull up to that dock there.”

There was a lot of flapping and snapping as the servants grabbed at the sails and gathered them in. The boat slowed significantly and the two men took up the oars and headed for the dock. There was a boat like this one tied to the dock already and two canoes up on the bank.

“Who?” Elizabeth whispered back, frowning slightly. “Is this your place?” She asked, looking around. So far, the dock and the shore looked like any other dock and shoreline on this river. “I do not see anyone.” She was looking as hard as Robert was, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see where this person was.

But then, he suddenly appeared from behind a massive cypress tree trunk as if by magic. Elizabeth gasped. He was a native savage. Her eyes went wide as she studied this curiosity. She had heard of Indians and had even seen actual Indian artifacts at a museum in London she had visited several times with her family. Back then she had never believed she would ever see one in person, but here he was!

He was a youth about her age, she deduced, tall and slim, wearing only a buckskin apron and a wolf pelt around his shoulders. His long, black hair was tied in a knot on the left side of his head; the hair on the right side had been shaved. He wore a necklace of some sort, made of shells maybe or animal teeth along with some shiny circles of copper than reminded her of pennies. He even had something hanging from one ear lobe. He was carrying a bow and there was a quiver at his back made from another wolf skin. Then much to her shock, he nodded in their direction and made a few signs with his hand and Robert responded in kind.

“Who is that? Isn’t he cold? He’s hardly wearing anything.” She commented in a whisper. She was so curious, but she was also afraid to talk any louder lest he hear her. She shivered a little within her cloak.

By now the servants were staring as was Evelyn. Jamie was still in a semi-unconscious state.

“He’s used to the cold. From the time they’re born, all children are bathed in the river daily no matter what the weather.” Robert said matter-of-factly.

“How fascinating! What is his name?” Elizabeth was wide-eyed and not afraid at all.

Robert glanced back at her in surprise. “He is called Owasewas. He’s a Powhatan.” He answered, but then yelled out again to the servants when he saw that they were drifting. “Ackerman! Man the oars! We’re drifting.”

Nathan snapped to. “Sorry, sir.” He mumbled. Both servants bent to their task, rowing them cleanly to the dock.

“A Powhatan.” Elizabeth repeated thoughtfully. “Is he a member of the same tribe as the king of Virginia?”

Robert frowned at her. “The king of Virginia? What ever do you mean?”

“When my family and I went to see Tradescant’s Rarities—“

“Tradescant!” Robert exclaimed, quite excited. He forgot the Indian in the woods for that second and focused all his attention on her. “Do you know John Tradescant?”

“Do you?” She asked, completely surprised that he would know of the Tradescant family.

“Yes, I’ve met John the younger twice now. What do you know of him?” The first time Robert had met John Tradescant the younger had been in 1637 when Robert was fifteen years old. John had stayed with the Tyler’s for a month and Robert had felt an immediate camaraderie with this passionate gardener and plant collector. John had come to Virginia to collect native plants and artifacts to add to his father’s collection back in Lambeth, England, south of London. There, his father, John the elder, had put together a collection of plants from around Europe and other oddities to form a museum of sorts. This collection was called Tradescant’s Rarities and was open to the public.

“As I was saying, my family and I visited his collection of rarities and they have on display a magnificent mantle that was once owned by the king of Virginia. Who is this king?”

Robert frowned again. “I do not know. Opechancanough is the chief now…”

“Ope...who?” She asked, but Robert’s attention was once more focused on the Indian on the shore.

“Opechancanough. Elizabeth, I would love to continue this conversation about John’s rarities, but I need to see what the problem is here.”

“I understand. But later, you are going to introduce us, aren’t you?” She asked hopefully.

“In time.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth. “Stay close to Nathan and Dolnick, all right?”

She nodded.

Once the boat had bumped against the dock, Robert rose quickly and vaulted out of the boat. He caught a rope thrown by Dolnick and wrapped it around the post, securing the boat at the bow.

“Dolnick, Nathan, take care of things here.” He ordered, then without another word, he ran to his Indian friend.

Chapter Sixteen: A Bad Turn of Events

Robert and Owasewas jogged to the house side by side. Owasewas explained to Robert that when he had arrived only minutes ago, he had found the back door ajar, but he didn’t see anyone around. He had found this odd, but then assumed that Mrs. Chilcott was doing something that required her to go in and out of the house and that she was in the house at that moment. The behavior of the nanny goat that was tied up in the side yard hadn’t given him any reason to be suspicious either. She had bleated at him a few times, but then went back to her munching, seemingly content with the world. So, Owasewas had called out for Mrs. Chilcott; he had even knocked on the door, but when there had been no answer, he went to search the barn and the cottage. He still hadn’t found anyone. Feeling uneasy at that point, but deciding not to enter the house for various reasons, the main one being that he did not want to risk the chance of getting caught in an Englishman’s house alone, he had been on his way to his canoe when he had seen the boat.

He had hidden at first; some Englishmen didn’t think twice about killing savages these days, but then he had recognized Robert and had made himself visible.

As the two men approached the house, Robert scanned the property. It appeared deserted, there was no smoke coming from any of the chimneys, either from the main house or the little cottage, and he wondered where the hell Connelly was. Had the boy run away already? Bloody hell, he and Jamie should have never trusted him!

Robert opened the unlocked front door and stepped in, not liking what he heard or
didn’t
hear, as the case may be. He should have heard the fire crackling in the kitchen fireplace or possibly Abigail moving around in that room. She may be upstairs, but he honestly didn’t believe that. She had never ventured upstairs before, even to clean, believing she had no right to go into his or Jamie’s bedchambers. She was not their maid and he and Jamie took care of their own bedding and clothes and even swept up there once in a while if they had the time.

Robert invited Owasewas to follow him inside, but the Indian youth lagged behind and stayed outside. Robert knew that for some unfathomed reason Owasewas felt uncomfortable in a white man’s house. Owasewas said they were too solid, too permanent, especially this one that had been built out of red clay blocks called bricks. He liked and trusted both Robert and Jamie, but he knew already that they represented a change in this land. Robert understood him, but only to a certain point. The English had a right to this land; God had ordained it.

From the hallway Robert called for Abigail, but there was no answer. He went into the kitchen first and frowned when he saw the dead coals in the huge fireplace. It looked like she had started a stew in the morning; there was the big, black pot hanging from the crane over the coals, but it was cold now and looked quite unappetizing. Abigail would never have let that fire go out for any reason or to allow any amount of food to go to waste. Something was seriously wrong and he felt a chill run down his spine.

His next thought was to look for her in the parlor where her cot was kept. Perhaps she had fallen ill right after she had started to prepare her meal and was now sleeping. He hurried out of the kitchen, crossed through the hallway and entered the other room, but when he looked at her cot, it was made up, neat and tidy as always. Frowning even more now, he went back into the hall thinking he should check the root cellar. He strode down to the other end of the hallway to the stairs that led down…And he stopped short, horrified. His heart pounded in his chest. She was lying on the floor, unconscious, her face as pale as a ghost except for one cheek where it looked like she had been slapped hard. Her mouth was swollen at one corner and there was a little dried blood there, but the worst was below. Her skirt was hiked up to her hips and there was dried blood on the insides of her thighs above the tops of her stockings.

“Damn! Damn it!” He swore under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her little knife against the far wall, as if it had been knocked from her hand. There was dried blood on it, not a lot, but at least she had fought back and cut the bastard. With great care, he bent down and immediately pulled her skirt down to cover her nakedness. Then he knelt beside her and stroked the hair back from her face. “Abigail. Abby.” He called softly, as he continued to stroke her hair. But she didn’t respond. “Come on, Abby, please wake up.”