May 14, 1607
The day began as any other aboard the Godspeed, as once more Viola returned to the main deck to clear her head.
Her thoughts had been conflicted of late. On the one hand for certain – other than a few clipped and brusque responses, Robert had ceased talking to her during the day.
Though she could still feel his presence at night when in his state of slumber he'd found his way to crawl up behind her, no doubt restless in his sleep and nestle his face into her back. She'd even found on one occasion his arm had captured hold of her waist to bring her even closer. Startled by his actions, she turned to see him instead lost in dreamland. She couldn't help it – it made her smile. It was almost as if this secret side of his personage had fought to take over in the hours between night and day. It was this side that Viola found that despite her best defenses and stubborn hold on her hatred of him, that she found she was starting to grow fond of him – in a way. But, soon it was diminished as the daylight came in through the cracks in the rafters and his true nature returned to his countenance, but even that was unconvincing. Could it be that he was changing or was she?
She sat down upon a nest of large, coiled ropes near the side of the ship and closed her eyes, lost in thought.
The events aboard the ship and the crew carrying this vessel upon the sea had been one of challenge and heartbreak within the last month and a half now. She was acutely aware that even though Captain Gosnold had promised them great religious freedom and wealth in the new world that the here and now made the promises seem almost vacuous. Perhaps it had been an attempt to draw focus away from the fact that their food supplies were starting to run out and fresh water to drink was at a premium. Even the liquor they carried aboard her was starting to diminish. Then there was the good people starting to grow sick – no doubt from scurvy or some other equally cruel plight like dysentery.
Viola had been wise in making sure she'd shown little remorse stealing the odd orange here and there to make sure that not only did she have some to fight off disease but that her husband had his share as well, despite his distinct dislike of the fruit. He'd objected too to her insistence that garlic around their necks while sleeping at night would ward off illness – and yet, thank the heavens above they had been spared from this floating plague. It was nearly as bad as that – the Black Death.
She cringed as she relived the other horrors of their voyage thus far. As they rounded the Canary Islands at the beginning of the journey on the southbound trade winds that had welcomed them, there was talk of a mutiny on board that threatened to turn them back home. They had suggested throwing someone overboard when they found him, but through the insistence of mercy from his family, instead threw him in their makeshift gaol for a few days to clear his head alone.
"God, have mercy upon his soul, and please see kind to save us – all of us. Save us from this fresh hell. Take us to a land of promise, one that is beyond the horizon," Viola chanted quietly to herself.
"Amen to that, Lady Wessex for your kind words of insight," came a voice suddenly, interrupting her reverie.
She gasped and looked up to see Captain Gosnold standing over her, a kindly smile on his handsome face. He always had a peace about him that made him much older than his thirty years. She quite liked and admired him.
Smiling she answered. "Thank you."
"I apologize most sincerely, please – go back to your thoughts."
He backed away from her and joined his crew at the helm. She watched him for a moment and once more closed her eyes.
This time her thoughts once more settled back upon Robert. Happy thoughts decidedly, she could still feel his warmth against her back and how solid he felt. She hoped tonight he would be restless once again.
But, it was that same exact thought that sent a small shiver of guilt into the pit of her stomach. Was she betraying the man she loved who was still waiting no doubt for her in England?
He's married – so am I…
Her chin quivered as she fought back the tears…my Will, my love…
As her thoughts unsettled her mood, it was then she felt the most exquisite sensation – of something light as a feather drop upon her resting fingers.
Opening her eyes, she saw at first the bright sunlight blind her gaze before she lowered it to see a lone and beautiful butterfly fluttering on her hand.
She quietly smiled as she admired it. It had been ages since she'd seen one.
"Why hello there – where on earth did you come from? Aren't you lovely."
Suddenly, she saw a shadow appear to block out the sun momentarily and looked up to see the captain once again looking down at her.
"Is that?" He asked in amazement.
Quickly he crouched down to see it up close.
She held it up for him, the butterfly didn't move. "It is so beautiful, isn't it?"
The captain jumped up onto his feet and went running across to the side of the ship.
"Yeoman! Get me my telescope at once!" He shouted out to a member of his crew.
The man did as he said and came running over to his side with the telescope in hand. The captain took it up and stretching it out, gazed upon the horizon.
It took a matter of mere moments when he suddenly yelled out.
"Land! I see land! Right starboard! Set sail for the east this instant!"
There was an excitement as the crew cheered for the first time since their launch and preparations were made to change course, the huge ship groaned as it moved around on it's own volition.
This was indeed joyous news and Viola's first thoughts went to Robert, she had to convey it to him as well.
Standing on her feet, she dashed across to lift the hatch and started down the steps to the lower decks. It took only a matter of a few minutes to find their spot near the stern of the ship, she grinned as she approached Robert who was lost in his own little world, busily crafting what looked like a leather pouch to wear with his handsome garments.
As she approached him, she became acutely aware of something moving in the shadows to her left. Stopping momentarily, she glanced up to see a glint of something and then she could make out a figure standing there, he seemed to be watching her husband.
The glint became more apparent as the figure got down low on his heels and then she could see it – it was a knife he held that glimmered in the lantern's flicker.
Her blood ran cold and a sharp intake of fear ran through her body, as did the adrenaline as she screamed out -
"Robert!"
The stranger turned at her cry and dove for her. Screaming again, her husband jumped to his feet.
Instead of hiding away and shielding herself, she fought back with every once of strength she possessed. Her arms hit bone and flesh as he grabbed a hold of her, trying to choke the living breath from her with a hand at her throat. She fought for the knife with a singular self-possession. Grunting, they struggled together. He raised his hand to hit her hard across the face and with it she could feel the knife's blade tearing at her brow. Falling to her knees, she sheltered her face at last, blood coating her fingertips as she cried out in pain.
Finally Robert reached the assailant and the men began to struggle above her, she was startled to hear a man scream. Looking up she could see the stranger grabbing on to his leg and limping away with blood running down his pant leg. She finally recognized the man. He was the man who nearly started the mutiny – why had he come to attack them of all aboard, she couldn't fathom.
But at this moment, she no longer cared.
Quickly rising to her feet, she ran up to Robert and found his arms go around her immediately to make sure she was in one piece and alright. She put her arms round his back and cried into his shoulder.
"Oh my husband, thank God you are alright!"
"Emery!" Robert grumbled, the man who had attacked him. "The bastard! He was trying to steal our sole possessions, mark my word. Are you…?"
"A scratch, a mere scratch," she replied to comfort his worry for her safety. But, her voice was shaking and he did not believe her.
"Here, come into the light, let me take a look at you," he insisted.
He lead her into their little living space and sat her down on the floor, gingerly.
As he inspected her wound which bled down across his knuckles and over the corner of her pretty eyes, he grimaced.
"Why must you be so impetuous!"
She wanted to say something in retribution, but kept her tongue as she knew he was right.
"Foolish, but appreciated," he muttered.
She smiled softly at him, until he said…
"I will have to mend it – do you have string, a needle and a candle?"
She looked at him, nervously and her face became pale.
"It will only hurt at first, I promise," he said, touching her shoulder.
She nodded, quietly. "In my apron in the corner."
"I have a brandy flask in my bag. I want you to consume some of it, it will help dull the pain."
(Moments later, after holding her darning needle over a flame of a candle, he was ready to set about mending her wound. He could see that Viola was lifting her chin one too many times as she drained most of his brandy in several swigs):
He took the flask from her.
"My Lord, easy woman – save some for later. There is no need to empty the entire contents down your throat!" He barked.
She started giggling for no reason and her face was distinctly cherry as blush warmed her cheeks. She leaned up against him and started playing with an errant curl that fell across his forehead, she twirled it around her fingertip before he batted her away. Clearly she was inebriated.
"Where does this come from?" She asked, not making much sense any more.
"I was right when I said that about you," he snarled in response.
"How do you mean?"
"Your mind really does 'hop about'."
She rolled her eyes. "Again – I ask you – where does this come from?"
"What?" He snarled, growing easily irritated by her insistent chattering.
"Your curls – who passed that on to you?"
He groaned, exacerbated. "My father."
"Thank him for me," she chirped and started giggling again. This time she put her entire hand up in his hair and began to stroke his scalp. It felt amazing.
"I would were he not dead."
She giggled in an absurd manner at his reply.
He closed his eyes as his pulse began to quicken, she just smiled up at him – delighted at his nervous response.
"You really are quite nice like this," she whispered, coming in a little closer so that he could feel her breath on his chin.
He glanced away quickly, trying to avoid her.
"Be still!" He snapped and grabbed her wrist to hold her.
She huffed in disappointment and then jumped as she could feel the needle barely graze her skin, it was hot like a poker.
"I barely touched you! If you would stop your incessant movement you would not feel it so much!" He scolded.
"I have no problem with you touching me," she blurted out and then realizing her words, she looked up at him with an expression very much like a child's.
He gave her an equally disquieted look in return. He had hoped she meant that.
"I mean – that is to say – with you mending my cut. Just give me some warning when you do so next time," she grumbled and averted her gray eyes.
"You must look up…" he instructed her, taking her chin in his hand so that he levelled her eyes to his. "Do you need something to bite down upon?"
"No," she said bravely. "Just do it, please and be quick about it. I will be fine."
"Very well, but I want no response from you otherwise. Understood?"
She just nodded. Taking her cheek in his palm, he turned her face upwards so that he could see it better in the light.
"If I do not complain, may I be permitted to still talk?"
He was about to prick her brow when he looked at her with disdain.
"I have a feeling were I to say no you would persist anyhow. Go ahead."
She gave him a dirty look.
"As I was about to say, I think I know the reason that the crew have declined our presence currently at their table."
"Oh is that so?" He replied, the tone of his voice clearly showing that it was a topic for conversation he wished not to discuss. "And what has your research revealed? That I am not wealthy or established enough to break bread with them?"
She looked surprised. "No, not at all. It's because they think you're an atheist."
He jumped at her words and in that, he fumbled with the needle that instantly pierced her skin a little too much at first approach.
She cried out in surprise. "Oww – good husband, please take a care!"
"What do you mean that they think I'm an atheist – what ever gave them that idea?" He cried and put the needle down, he didn't even notice she was starting to bleed again. But, when he realized she was, he swiped her brow with a handkerchief.
"They are devout, and as you often attended while they were in prayer and joined in – they thought you were too. Until one day when you arrived late for supper and sat down to eat without praying first. They were so dismayed at your utter lack of respect that they wanted nothing more to do with you and so banished you to eat with the common folk below deck."
He seemed beside himself, totally neglecting his duty at hand.
"Unbelievable!"
"Apparently…are you going to finish mending me or shall I do it myself. I fear my hand is not as steady at the moment."
She started to giggle again and fell into him a bit. "Oh I think I feel a bit tipsy."
He steeled himself and grasped her arm. "Stay still!"
The anger was evidenced in his voice and she feared he'd hurt her out of his sullen mood. But, he was surprisingly gentle as he slowly entered the hot needle into the tender skin of her brow.
She gritted her teeth and squeezed her hands together in her lap as she fought against crying out, as her eyes closed. It was only the first stitch and already it was proving excruciating. More so for him as he hated to see her in this much pain, but he didn't let on what was coming over him.
He did another stitch and again she sat trying hard not to show any pain.
"You do well, good wife," he whispered.
After several agonizing minutes, he successfully closed the wound and as he tied it off, he leaned forward with his mouth to chew off the end of the string. When he did she felt the most surprising sensation – that of him also leaning in to kiss her forehead in concern.
She looked up and noticed how close they were at present as his blushing face was so near to hers…then the thing she least expected happened. She found herself gradually moving closer, her hand pensively touching his upper leg for support. And…this time – he didn't stop her…
Her lips found his and for the first time in their married life together, they shared a kiss between them. Tenderly she found his lips devoured hers. Not the hurried, bruising kiss when he took her unaware after announcing her father had bought him for her – this was different, much different. He almost seemed fearful that she would break if he kissed her too hard, so she took the initiative and urged his lips to part. He could feel the taste of her tongue against his lower lip when finally he drew away in shock.
"There, you should be fine now – though it be day, I think you should rest."
As soon as he released her, her eyes suddenly went back in her head from the previous shock of the makeshift surgical procedure and fell in a dead weight to the floor of the cabin.
He looked down at her and rolled his eyes at her.
"I see, we can't even have one normal moment, can we?" He growled in frustration.
Moving down under her, he lifted her up in his arms and manuevering Viola under the blankets on the floor, he laid her down across his chest so that her cheek was nestled against him. She murmured lightly in her sleep. He played with her hair this time, admiring the gold strands on his fingertips as the candlelight began to fade and he too fell asleep.