Chapter 13 The Village

Hugging Matthew closer, Cecily winced at the pounding shaking Betsy's door. It was him; he'd come for her.

Baby Matthew screwed his shocked expression tighter, ready to cry. Torn by indecision, she was on one hand tempted to rush upstairs and hide in the closet; on the other she longed to throw open that door and throw a pan of burnt soup in his face. At least it might put her miserable cooking effort to good use.

"Cecily, open this door!" Caleb demanded, rapping with short, staccato beats. "I have a perfectly logical explanation for my actions!"

Fuming and starting toward the door, she halted only within a distance where he would be sure to hear. "Go away!" she ordered, cradling Matthew's head in her palm in an effort to calm him. His wide eyes and pouting mouth told her he was just moments from releasing a full-blown wail of protest at their argument. Lifting him enough to plant a smacking kiss on his chubby cheek she smiled. "I'm sorry baby," she soothed, trying to ignore continued rapping.

"Please, Cecily," his father pleaded, "the neighbors—"

"I don't care what they think!" she retaliated. "Leave us alone—you are frightening Matthew!"

"I'm sorry—I just need to see you," he insisted, "I can explain why I felt I had to do what I did—"

She dragged open the door and he stumbled into the house. Unashamedly pleased at the look of shock on his face, she realized he must have been leaning against it. Taking two giant steps backward she stood and glared at him. "Your actions have explained everything, Caleb Godwin—forcing my sister to flee town like a refugee, just to escape your scheming and conniving—not to mention manipulating both of them into a forced marriage which had the constable's wife not been kind enough to inform me I never would have guessed—"

"Ceara was caught helping a fugitive from the law escape!" he protested, closing the door behind himself, but not after a quick survey of the neighboring yards. "I was only doing my duty as a responsible citizen and member of this family—"

"Duty?" she choked, shaking her head in disbelief. "You just wanted to get rid of a problem you thought a source of embarrassment to your mighty reputation! God knows what you've done to Ceara, breaking her heart, and mine in the process!"

To her amazement she saw his eyes fill with moisture as he leaned back against the door. "But you left me," he choked hoarsely, "and you took our baby..."

Never having seen him so emotional, for the first time she doubted her decision to flee their empty house to stay with Betsy and the children, mourning her loss of her sister. She held his gaze and shook her head. "I was so angry with you I could not stand to be alone in that house," she answered, hoping to help him understand that her rash behavior was not truly an effort to leave him.

"I had to find out from my hired men," he said, his eyes shifting to Matthew and back to her. "After a long and exhausting trip I found that the love of my life took our son and deserted me!"

Swallowing her own sob, she told herself that she had wasted too many tears on him already. "Ceara is all I have left of my family, besides Jamie," she croaked. "How could you take her away from me?"

"She was a bad influence, and her behavior was becoming eccentric," he insisted, taking a step toward her.

Lifting a hand to stop him, she shook her head. "You only made it worse, manipulating her, and now you've forced her to marry a perfectly innocent man—"

"Innocent?" he laughed incredulously. "The man's a traitor to his own kind, associating with the likes of Masters and the others—"

"Well you judged him worthy enough to marry my sister!"

"We made a deal, he and I—only a temporary one, just to protect her reputation until he escorts her safely to your brother," he tried to explain. "Added to that is the fact that for some reason God only knows he respects her—and if I am not mistaken he is attracted to her! What better husband could she possibly find?"

Cecily suddenly had a vision of his face the day she had come to this very house and first met him—she remembered how he'd looked at Ceara. Even more surprising, the way she had acted with him indicated she trusted him. Now, staring at her husband with parted lips but finding no protest, she could not argue with his logic.

"You know something about them," Caleb guessed, taking a step closer and gently brushing his fingertips atop Matthew's head. The baby gurgled and reached for him, and she transferred him to his father's arms. Caleb's eyes plumbed the depths of her gaze as he hugged Matthew close. "Then tell me that I'm wrong about them."

Turning to go to the sofa, she seated herself and stared past the place where he stood, feeling the weight of his gaze as he waited for her to deny it. "If they prove to suit well, it will not be your doing," she stated primly. "And if indeed you and he 'made a deal, which I seriously doubt, time will tell the truth of the matter.'"

"Do you doubt a gentleman's agreement?" he said with a hint of a smile, forcing her steel herself against his appeal. Already she felt her resolve weakening, at least in her heart.

"Don't wander from the subject of your interference, Caleb Godwin."

He came to sit next to her, patting Matthew's tiny back. She could hear the pleasure in her son's soft cooing language. "Surely you cannot believe that a man in his position would be at liberty to take time for such things, let alone courtship and tender affection. He is somehow involved in espionage, if I've guessed correctly, in which case his future prospects are at best compromised."

She crossed her arms, pinning him with an accusatory glare. "Perhaps you should concentrate on your own prospects, for our marriage might not survive if you continue to toy with other people's affairs."

He laughed incredulously. "Toy? I merely took advantage of a splendid opportunity to bind two otherwise hopeless people into what may just promise to be a happy marriage—"

She fisted her hands at her sides with a groan. "If you wish to remain married to me you must cease to manipulate others—"

"All right, all right!" he laughed. "If you insist—"

"—and I want you to send a written apology to Ceara and her husband."

His smile faded. "Apology? I was merely acting like any responsible brother-in-law—"

"No, you were not!" she insisted. "And if you will not agree to stop involving yourself in the private affairs of others, then our marriage is over."

He sobered, crinkling his brow as he studied her face. For once Cecily felt that he was truly listening to her, and inwardly she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. And one for him to agree upon her terms.

"You are serious about this," he breathed, staring at her in surprise.

"I am."

"A written apology…" he considered, his gaze drifting off a moment before returning to hers. "Very well, if you insist, though I doubt there is an address—"

"Ceara and I will be in touch," she assured him, hoping that it was indeed true. She suddenly felt as if a weight had been taken from her shoulders. "And you will forward the remainder of her dowry to her as soon as she settles."

"Only if you both come home with me now and promise never to run away again."

She held his gaze. "All right, but in the future all family matters will be discussed together, openly and before any action is taken."

"Fine," he huffed, getting to his feet and waiting for her to do so. "Now come before that woman returns—"

"You mean Betsy," she corrected, slowly shaking her head. "But I want you to know that things are not going to be the way they were until you've shown me some sign that you have changed."

"My word not good enough for you?"

"I am afraid not, Caleb."

He sighed in obvious frustration. "What kind of sign?"

She got up and reached for Matthew's bag. "I will know it when I see it."

He waited until she handed it over, and when she did she could see the hurt in his expression. "I have stated my love for you countless times," he said quietly, watching her carefully. "It is my hope that you will believe me, and forgive me."

She lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, heart pounding in the silence lengthening between them. She heard him walk to the door and open it before she looked up, into his eyes.

I do love you, God help me…

His eyes searched her face, but he nodded once. "Matthew and I will be waiting in the carriage."

Captain Burke slammed his fist upon the table, eyeing those standing around him with challenge. "We will not give up," he insisted, "regardless of the storms. I want scouts out there looking for any sign of either of them, and check all our contacts along the Hudson. Someone had to see them. They will be headed toward Ft. Schuyler as long as her brother remains stationed there. Unless I receive confirmation of his having been transferred elsewhere we will keep looking."

"Aye, sir," several voices agreed, some half heartedly, as the meeting broke up and they went to carry out his orders.

Leaning back wearily in the chair, Burke met the gaze of Mrs. Stauder, the innkeeper's wife.

"I don't understand why he would take her through such dangerous country," she complained, shaking her head.

Burke smoothed a hand down his face as he let out a tired sigh. "Because she was going to go there anyway—with or without an escort."

She looked thoughtful. "Can you be sure of that?"

He nodded. "John Masters was convinced of it, and he's known her since she was a little girl."

"The man who helped Aaron escape?"

"That's right."

"Well," she sighed, looking toward the window at the threatening clouds riding the ridge. "If there is a safe way through, Mr. Aaron will find it for her. I cannot think of a more competent protector."

Burke cradled his soup bowl with one hand, almost too tired to eat. "I hope you're right about that," he said gloomily, thinking of the Mohawk scout's expression when he recognized Aaron. That was all it had taken for all hell to break loose, threatening the delicate balance which the meeting had just achieved. For fisticuffs to have ensued and prompted the Indians' abrupt flight troubled him , but what caused him the most concern was a nagging fear that Aaron intended to correct the problem himself, even if it meant going directly to the Five Nations. He was that determined to win the confederation's full support. "But it's not her safety which worries me. I fear he's about to single handedly plead for the Confederacy's support."

Patience Stauder turned to face him. "What you told me about their marriage is reason to hope: maybe she can deter him."

Swallowing a spoonful of soup, Burke caught the twinkle in her eyes. "Theirs is a marriage of convenience, Patience," he reminded her.

She smiled then. "Let's pray it doesn't stay that way. Aaron is in desperate need of a wife to love him, whether he knows it or not, and he's married a lovely young woman."

He harrumphed and spooned another portion into his mouth, shaking his head at her "you'll see." Swallowing with some difficulty, he studied her hopeful expression cynically. "If it does I'll not be a witness to it…I relieved him of his duties just before our meeting."

Her face fell. "But why? He's the best we've got!"

Burke raised a hand in his own defense. "Tis only 'till spring," he clarified. "He needs to get away and recover more, so it is only a leave of disability. It will give him time to relax, and put off the risk of him being recognized again."

She leaned forward in her chair. "Might there perhaps be another reason?"

He saw the compassion in her eyes and looked down into his soup. "Of course there is, but he does not need to know it."

With that declaration, Patience slapped the table herself and got up. "Well then, I think I'll get back to my work, Captain."

Struggling against the gag in her mouth, Ceara twisted her hands but could not loosen the bonds holding them behind her back. She glared meaningfully at the fur draped back of the brave who had shoved and pushed her, finally lifting her atop Pierce as if she was a spoiled child. Even if he had managed to turn and see her expression she doubted it would trouble him at all. With a frustrated snort she shifted her gaze ahead, following the line of men marching ahead, this time unable to catch any glimpse of Aaron. The line zigzagged downward through the mountains no doubt headed for the mighty Hudson River. With the thick forests and snow covered landscape she wondered how anyone could discern the way, especially due to the fact that they were plodding along determinedly through the darkness of night.

Here the snow was knee deep even for the tall braves who had captured them. Reluctantly grateful to be riding, she knew on her it would be hip deep. As she gazed ahead she could not help but worry for Aaron's safety, and even her own should anything happen to him. For the past hour she had gone through every conceivable fear in her mind, telling herself that meditating on the unknown was a dangerous pursuit. Finally settling upon her own silent prayers for him to be spared, she wished she had been more attentive to the book Aaron had handed her back in the library at the inn. It no doubt would have been helpful in enlightening her as to what to expect from their Indian captors.

As the trail narrowed and passed dangerously close along the edge of the cliff she tensed, hearing a shout from ahead to where a group of them were gathering in a small. Alarmed, she squinted against the darkness and gasped when she saw Aaron jerked out of line and held aside while the line continued its descent. As she drew closer she saw him lean forward and hang between two braves who clutched his arms and looked in her direction, obviously waiting for something.

Please God, spare him! she prayed, meeting the mocking smile of the brave guarding her as he turned to grin up at her. Suddenly he jerked the reins and Pierce snorted in protest, stumbling along at a faster rate. They came up alongside Aaron, who still hung his head and did not resist his guards. Even when they halted at his side he failed to respond. Not knowing what to expect, she was startled by the brave's hand on her calf, pushing and gesturing for her to move up. Then it occurred to her what they were about and her heart surged in excitement.

Just then Aaron grunted in pain and fell to his knees, the men cursing and protesting in their own language as they pulled him back up. Biting the cloth between her teeth, she kicked at her own guard who threw back his head and laughed. Before long Aaron was lifted behind her despite much arguing and muted protestations among their captors. He was forced to raise his arms over her before a rope fell over their heads and snagged tight, binding them together. Pierce was slapped into motion as she felt Aaron lean heavily against her back. His hands displaced hers on the pommel and she was forced to grip his ropes to steady herself. His head dropped to her shoulder and rolled to the space between her neck and shoulder. She knew that if he lost consciousness and slipped off, so would she. Then what would they do, she wondered? Kill them instead of trouble themselves with such a burden? She curled her fingertips into his knuckles and held on, hoping the pressure would keep him awake.

They moved rapidly despite the ice and snow covering the boulders and moss. After a few minutes she felt him lift off and turned her head only enough to see him from the corner of her eye, fearful of attracting too much attention. Feeling the weight of his gaze she dared to turn a bit more until she was staring into the silvery light of his eyes. What she saw took her breath away, for he was alert and intent upon her features. Tearing her eyes from his she noted the gag in his mouth and looked back up as he nodded once before lowering his head back to her shoulder. And then she knew: he had pretended to be faint just to be near her!

Slowly turning back she felt her eyes flood with tears at the thought that this might be the end of their time together, before their life really started. Her throat choked with emotion but she forced herself to concentrate on the fact that he had a plan. All was not lost, she told herself. Someone would surely see that they had been kidnapped, and of course Captain Burke would be looking for them. As if in confirmation she felt his elbows press into her sides as he shifted behind her. Then she felt his cheek nuzzle the side of her neck, its prickly whiskers gently abrading the tender skin there. Stiff with fear, she stared at the braves surrounding them, but their attention was on their footing. Slowly leaning backward, she lifted her shoulder just enough to cradle his face against her neck, closing her eyes in response to the waves of longing crashing within her.

Aaron cradled her in his arms, feeling her fear and offering comfort as best he could. After a moment she seemed to understand what he was doing and relaxed a bit, then to his surprise slowly lifted her bound hands from his to rest them upon his thigh. Affected greatly by the intimacy of her gesture, he suddenly longed to kiss her again, even though it made no sense. Yet his mind raced through the past weeks spent with her as if in summation of their entire relationship. He faced the fact that despite his resolve not to, he had grown increasingly attracted to her. From the beginning he had found her tough exterior and intelligence fascinating and later, when he'd finally allowed himself the luxury of acknowledging her beauty, he began to crave her presence. Filled with regret for not having revealed his feelings to her sooner, he worried that it was too late. All he could do now was shield her in his mock embrace as he planned for a way to outsmart their captors. Even as he did so, he could not help himself as he nudged his face against her neck in an effort to communicate how he felt about her. She stiffened in surprise and he froze, waiting until he heard her soft intake of breath. Then she slowly stretched back against him and he was struck by a combination of joy and pleasure at her response. In that moment he vowed to somehow make it up to her if given the opportunity.

It was a good indication that his plan to feign weakness had actually worked. He'd known his decision to nearly pass out from hiking could have very well gotten him tomahawked and left behind without as much as a backward glance. Yet for some reason these men had taken pity on him, or perhaps thought he would make a better trade alive than dead. But it was Ceara for whom he feared, though it seemed her feisty behavior had amused their captors and would hopefully lead them to the same conclusion and spare her life. It all depended upon their identity, which still eluded him.

They were not Oneida yet neither were they Mohawks, who were far more dangerous and had a long history of siding with the British. Judging from the few snatches of conversation he was able to interpret, he sensed they were desperate and homeless, having had their lands burned and pillaged by raids sweeping eastward along the Mohawk River. As to where they were headed he could only guess, and pray that it had nothing to do with either Mohawks or British.

After nearly another hour he nudged Ceara awake, sensing her fear when she straightened and pulled away from him. They found themselves at the bank of the river and pulled to a halt. Several braves approached them, pulled the rope away and snatched them roughly from Pierce's back. He watched Ceara stare after the stallion as he was led away to an unknown fate. Glancing heavenward, Aaron judged it a few hours before dawn before his attention was captured by the activity along the bank. They watched tiredly as the brush was pushed from several canoes lying hidden along the water's edge. To his deep regret Ceara was led away despite her struggles and many kicks which found their target. To her credit she did not cast him a backward glances, and he forced himself to appear as unaffected by the decision. As he was shoved toward a canoe he stole glances in her direction, marking the one into which she was deposited and shoved to the floor. His was the first to head into the water, and he was seized with fear as he wondered if she could swim or not. Preparing himself for what would undoubtedly be a turbulent and dangerous crossing, he noted the wide spread of the river, unable to see the other side but familiar enough with it from past experience. Other hostile tribes patrolled the area beyond, but he was shoved low and covered with a canvas, left to pray for her safe and quick passage.

Dizzy from exhaustion, Ceara trudged onward through the snow as dawn lit the forest enveloping them. It had been a terrifying crossing, so wildly had their canoe pitched and nearly capsized. The worst part was being hidden under a canvas, unable to see and get her bearings as they fought the currents of the river. That had been hours ago, and still she knew nothing of Aaron's whereabouts, nor Pierce's. Their party had split into two smaller groups, hers suddenly speeding up their trek as excitement seemed to pass through the line. One brave at the head of her group broke into a run, leading a few others as she was shoved faster along in their wake. Finally she spotted something different in the monotonous forest panorama, what looked like the outline of a rise and horizontally laid logs. Along her left was a small swath of cleared land, telling her that they were finally drawing nearer their destination.

Civilization! She would have shouted had her mouth not been gagged. Was it a fort? A village? Surely they would be traded for supplies and weapons, she thought hopefully, her eyes searching the horizon. Aaron had said they had a long journey to the village, and now she felt confident that this was the place to which he had referred. Her heart sang despite the warning in her mind that they might be sold as indentured servants, or even worse passed from one group of Indians to another. She could end up either a slave or wife to an Indian, so turning her head to search the dimly lit woods behind her she longed for a glimpse of her husband.

The braves ahead of them announced their coming with whoops of joy, and as they jogged faster toward the clearing rising before them she felt her hopes sink toward despair. There nestled in the cradle of birch and evergreen was the first of a group of longhouses, white and glistening in the gray light of dawn. As she stared at them in disbelief, she heard other shouts and shifted her attention to her right, finally spotting the other group. And in that long line of braves one stood out who was different: Aaron!

He walked between two large warriors at the front of the line, and she saw them pass and precede her group into the village. Winding their way up to the plateau upon which the village stood, she studied it carefully and counted ten houses, high and awesome in structure, smoke curling out from the center of each roof. By the time they finally stopped before a huge boulder at the center of the village she stumbled sideways, steadied by the brave who then shoved her alongside Aaron. She found herself standing at his side before a group of elderly men and women who studied them with somber expressions. To her dismay Aaron did not look at her or acknowledge her presence, so focused was his attention the oldest man who stood directly before him.

The chief wore a hood and cloak of fur, with pieces of gray and white pelts sewn together and covering a long black robe that was beautifully decorated with the likenesses of wolves and stars. The women, she noted, were dressed similarly, and as she studied them as discretely as she could manage she was aware of Aaron's voice breaking the silence. Turning her head to stare at him, she watched his lips move quickly as he spoke in their language, his tone intent, his only reference to her one inclination of his head in her direction.

When he finished silence reigned for a moment, followed by a low murmurs of what sounded like surprise and admiration. For a moment she was stunned by the realization of how little she knew of her new husband. At the same time she was awed by the command in his manner and voice. Trying not to let her feelings show, she kept her head down, lifting only her eyes toward the chief. And when she did she was surprised to see the tiny grin lifting the corners of his lips. Unable to look away, she watched in fascination as the weathered skin of his face crinkled into a near smile. He spoke briefly and gestured in her direction, then turned and stalked off toward the nearest house, followed by the group of women and several of the more decorated men of the village. To her surprise their ropes were cut and she found herself able to bring her arms forward, though with considerable pain and stiffness. Dragging one hand to her mouth she pulled out the gag and swallowed convulsively, shifting her eyes to Aaron. In one glorious moment his eyes met hers and held, but in them she saw a warning.

Behave yourself… he seemed to be telling her, his face stern and without expression. An arm snaked around her and she was dragged from his side, kicking and watching Aaron turn and be escorted away. Taking her cue from his calm acceptance of the situation, she straightened regally and cooperated. Her last glimpse of her husband told her that he was admitted to the longhouse into which the chief had disappeared, while she was led in the opposite direction. Afraid and confused, she was left alone to wonder at the fate that awaited them.

c. 2008 by Christine Levitt