The Blue Seal of Trinity Cove (13 page)

“Yes, you – you are in the family way; I see it and you will not go and risk your baby. You will stay here,” ordered the Shaman.

“I will go then,” said Wanda's mother.

“No, no,” said Wanda, “let me go. I can run very fast and I'm young.” All of the women looked from one to the other. It then became very apparent that she was the obvious choice. All of the other women were old, had young children, were breast feeding babies or were too young themselves. Before anyone could say anything else, Wanda stood up and ran back toward the huts.

Nothing could have prepared Wanda for what she was about to see. Most of her tribe's men and boys lay on the ground, motionless. A sudden panic rose up in Wanda's throat. But then she saw what her darkest fears had refused to believe. Each of the males had fatal gunshot wounds and were indeed dead. It had not even occurred to her that this would be the outcome of the fighting, even though her dreams had shown her this exact scene. She stifled the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her and, remaining out of sight, took herself to where the supplies were kept. Grabbing a bag she started to fill it with as much water and food she thought she would be able to carry the distance to the caves. That was when she heard her own father's desperate cry. She knew without a doubt that he had been shot and probably now lay dead on the ground like the others. Every inch of her wanted to run to him; wanted to go and see that she was indeed wrong. He just needed to be helped up and have a wound dressed, surely. And surely she would be the one to do that; she was his daughter after all. It was as though a magnet was pulling her toward where the scream had come from. But she had to over-ride what her heart wanted her to do and make herself,
force
herself, to take up the bag of supplies and run back to the women and children. She crept around the back of the hut and looked out one last time at the scene of destruction before her.

If only she could see Madden, her mind would be at rest. If only she could see that he was alive and fine she would then be able to tell Inuwatu not to worry. Surely they wouldn't hurt him, with him being a white man. Her eyes went to the top of the gorge and then to the edge of the gully. There he was, his hands tied behind his back, being led to a horse to which he was then bound with another rope.

Even from here she could see that he looked completely different. His hat was no longer on his head and he looked dirty and dishevelled; a victim of war. But it wasn't so much the appearance of his clothes that stood out, as the look of utter dejection and heartbreak that made his shoulders sag and his head bow very low. What he must be thinking, she thought to herself. He must be so very worried about Inuwatu and her. She wished that there was a way to tell him that they were safe and not to worry; if only her mind was as powerful as the Shaman's she would be able to transfer a message to his mind with telepathy instantly. This is what she was thinking when she heard the boss of the men yell out to the others that they should “get down into the gully right now and get those women and children 'cause they're being taken into the town; it will be for their own good.” A sudden dread filled her completely. She would have to get back to the women and children and get them away from here. There was no time to lose.

W
anda arrived back at where the women and children were waiting, and before long they were all up and running toward the caves. It was only after Inuwatu had decided that they had quite a bit of distance between themselves and the white men that she agreed that they could stop and rest and have food and drink.

Inuwatu came to Wanda and asked, in a whisper, what it was that she had seen back at the camp. Wanda thought for a moment. She looked away from Inuwatu's piercing gaze to reflect fully on what her answer should be. She now had to consider the fact that her step-mother carried a child, her own half-brother or sister and that Inuwatu shouldn't have any added concerns. She felt the terrible burden of being the only person who knew the truth and saw instantly how far-reaching the consequences would be of what she spoke right here and now; it could affect the lives of everyone around her. In this case, perhaps honesty wasn't the best way.

“Just tell me plain, Wanda; don't lie now because I will know if you are.”

“Well,” said Wanda; she fully meant to tell the whole story but the words kept on escaping her as she realised how damaging the truth could be. She shook her head silently with a look of sadness on her face. Inuwatu knew instantly what that look meant. Her worst fears were being confirmed.

“And Madden …” she asked in a whisper but Wanda knew that just one word from her would have Inuwatu heartbroken beyond belief and so she chose her words carefully.

“He's alive,” was all she said. Inuwatu smiled and tapped her fingers at the place where her heart was and took a deep breath.

“We have to get to the caves,” said Wanda. “The white men were coming down into the gully to get all of us and take us back to the town.”

“I dread to think what they have in store for us,” said Inuwatu.

“I know; me too. I am terrified about what they would do to us. If my dreams are anything to go by then we have to make sure we never become captured.”

“I know,” Inuwatu agreed.

They trudged through the desert, the older women stopping to lean on one another here and there to regain their breath and the young children begging to be lifted and carried by the older children and women. When they arrived at the caves, the old women had their arms around the younger ones' shoulders and the little children and babies were being carried on the backs of the weary mothers and older brothers and sisters.

Inuwatu set about getting an evening meal prepared. They didn't light a fire, lest the white men spot the smoke and thus find out where they were. A sentry was posted outside the cave and further up on a cliff top. Every four hours the boys were to come down and be replaced by other lookouts throughout the night. They couldn't take any chances.

It was just before dawn when the birds were about to start singing that Wanda had a strange feeling that she should be awake. Within only a minute she heard a commotion outside the cave.

“You'll take me to them, lad, or else pay the price,” was what she heard and as she left the cave she saw one of the young boys being picked up by the back of his neck and shaken by a white man; indeed it was the white man that was the self-appointed leader of his group. Then he saw Wanda and surprise dawned on his face

“Ah, this is it, is it? This is where all those women and children are being kept. Did you really think you could get away from us?” He addressed this question to Wanda, who of course had no idea what he was saying but was afraid of the menacing look of the man. Right then a young boy dropped down from the cliff above the cave and landed on the head of the strange man. He held a rock in his hand which he smashed onto the back of the man's head. Within seconds there was a pool of blood and the young boy jumped up and staggered backwards with a look of horror on his face. He had not realised that such an action could bring death.

“I'm sorry, Wanda, but Dad always said that if anything was to happen to him then I should protect Mum and my sisters. It's my job as the head of the family, but I didn't expect this to happen …”

“It's okay,” said Wanda. “You did the right thing. But now we should get the others and ask what they think we should do. I can bet the other white men are not far away either.”

All of the other women and children came to where the dead man was lying. Inuwatu was speechless. Nobody knew what could be done next.

“There's only one thing we can do,” said the Shaman. “We bury him and then we work the magic so we shapeshift right here. That's the only thing to do.” All of the women and children agreed that there was no other course of action that could be taken.

“But my baby?” asked Inuwatu.

“Your baby is safe when you shapeshift,” said the Shaman. “When we go back to the grounds on the ninth of the ninth moon, your baby will be born and it will be fine; do not worry for it.”

“But you need your blue spectre and the ball to perform the spell,” said Wanda. The Shaman took her bag from her back and opened it to reveal the very things needed to perform the spell.

“A Shaman always comes prepared,” she said smiling. “So now let's get to work before the other men are here. I say we leave this white man in the cave, no time to bury, and then we perform the spell.”

And that's how the women and children of Wanda's tribe came to be living a long way from their home, without the men of their tribe to protect them and separated from Madden, the white man, forever.

B
obby and David were so riveted to the spot during the story of Wanda that they scarcely noticed that the day had turned into night and they were sitting by a candle in a dark room. All at once they both sat up and looked around, noticing that they were hungry and thirsty and thinking about the fact that they really should be getting back to the island. And Bobby couldn't help wondering – as much as she found the story of Wanda fascinating – how it all connected to themselves and the island and their search for the Blue Seal.

She looked at the man who was telling the story and suddenly noticed something she hadn't before. He was also green-eyed with brown hair. Did this mean he was Madden and Inuwatu's son, the one she was pregnant with when their tribe came under attack?

She was just about to ask him this question when he interrupted her thoughts: “We find ourselves having talked right through a mealtime and I now get something for you both to eat and drink,” he said, and he went about organising a simple meal of soup, bread, cheese, cakes and lemonade. The children ate and drank heartily. He watched them from his spot by the stove, smiling and smoking his pipe.

“Won't you join us?” David asked.

“Ah, maybe later I eat. Not now though; now is not right time for me,” he answered. Bobby and David thought this peculiar but they both thought it rude to ask too many questions about the habits of the man who had been so kind and generous to them, so they let the matter go.

“It's very kind of you to take us into your home and tell us the story and feed us like this,” David said.

“Very kind, maybe, but soon you find out the reason you really came here; then we see what you really think,” he answered. Bobby and David looked at each other. What on earth could he mean? But there was nothing sinister about this man, Bobby thought to herself, as she watched him sitting and smiling by the stove. Her intuition told her that whatever it was he was about to tell them, they had nothing to fear.

“So,” she said, finally finishing her meal, “would you mind telling us your name?”

“My name is Madden and my father was Madden. My mother named me after him because they say he was a great man, someone that everyone loved and respected. I did not ever meet him. After that day when my tribe was attacked, the women never saw the men of their tribe again, including Madden.” He talked almost in a whisper, gazing out of the window again, his eyes huge and sorrowful. To have never met your father, Bobby thought to herself – it was something they both had in common and she could understand why it would be painful for him – and for all of those men to be lost in that way. She hated violence and war and this reminded her why – such a waste of life and for no good reason either, or none that she could think of anyway. They were just a peace-loving tribe of people going about their business and not interfering with anyone else and yet look what had happened to them. All of those men had lost their lives because of the fanatic beliefs of a handful of white men who thought themselves superior for some abstract reason that Bobby couldn't understand. Shamans, witches and shapeshifters had existed throughout the ages, as far as she knew anyway and were probably around before Christianity even existed. So why were they looked upon as evil and the devil's work? Again, her mind just couldn't fathom the thinking that it took to want to annihilate a whole race of people just because they were different. It was greed, pure and simple, she thought to herself not for the first time, greed for land and power and money. She shook her head and clicked her tongue audibly as she felt herself becoming incensed, yet again, at her people's history. She felt embarrassed to be a white person; she wished this wasn't her history. It was beyond her comprehension and she found it repulsive that her own people could be so damning and bloodthirsty. Who gave the white people the authority to judge others so? Was it God? She knew enough from the bible to know that it probably wasn't. Her mother had raised her to know about all religions and types of spiritualities and they had discussed this very topic too many times to remember over the years. The Christians may say that this is what their bible tells them to do but even she knew that this was a distortion of the truth. The truth had been twisted over the centuries; she was sure of that. And didn't Christians preach non-judgement, which was a lesson handed down from Jesus Christ himself? “Love your neighbour as yourself” was what she remembered from when she had read the bible. Not murder them because they are different. The contradiction was plain and clear, is what she was thinking to herself and she found herself frowning and shaking her head again.