Chapter 3- Homecomings

North America

1607

A loud war cry pierced the midday air as the war party swiftly cut across the smooth surface of the sheltered bay of the Powhatan village. "Nakoma hand me the other basket we must gather more roots for the feast to night." Lazily the young woman handed her friend the basket. With a triumphant smile, Pocahontas grabbed the basket.

"Daughter," it was the one word that she had longed to hear these many months. It was the one word that meant that her prayers had been answered and now her king, her protection, her pride, and most of all her father was home. The young woman let out a sigh of relief as the basket hit the ground, turning to the warm embrace of a god king on earth. "Father." It happened that it was the only word that she could muster as she looked into his grieved eyes. His dark rumbling of a voice answered her as if he already knew the question in her eyes.

"I am well daughter, just tired; do not fear I am home." "Father I am so glad your home," Pocahontas voiced as she sank deeper into her father's embrace. "Now, would you kindly escorted your old father to his home, we have much to discuss but for now I am tired." Reluctantly, she released herself from the safety of those arms "Never old father, never old." She lovingly grabbed her father's hand and they began the trek back towards the village.

The Susan Constant- North America

1607

"Land ho" a shirtless sailor yelled. Upon the call, all cabin doors burst open and instantly the quite deck was swarmed with sailors, captains, gentlemen, farmers, and those of lesser accompaniment alike. Slowly gathering out of bed Captain Newport followed his crew and watched the sight of land unfold before him. As the ship moved inland the ship drew closer to the alien land before them. Men gasped at size of great trees as large as the buildings they had seen in Europe.

As thin mist enveloped the ship's men stood transfixed to the planks as the world that they would make their home unveiled itself. The silence of moment was broken as a crash of doors opened and the molested movement of air followed as Ratcliffe made his was to Newport. With a sour faced Newport turned, his back to the raging men headed his way. "Newport he should be hung now." With a mixture of surprise mixed with agitation Newport turned to the new governor, just sanctioned by the sight of land.

"What I ruled on this ship two months ago will stand Ratcliffe. In this land you maybe supreme, but on my ship I rule. Remember that sir," Newport spoke bitten back through bared teeth. With the acceptance of momentary defeat, Ratcliffe bowed. "And Ratcliffe, do as a leader should. Prepare your men to make ready a landing and scout the terrain so that we will find a suitable place to settle." "Our prime orders are start mining once we land; that is why we are here. It is not my job to prepare the party, it's Smith's job." "Sir, gold maybe a target of ours but survival is our prime goal, trust that. As far your scout goes he is so humbly detained, from works that were surmountedly concocted by you. So go, gather your men to scout." "And so I shall Captain Newport." Newport turned and walked towards his cabin however he turned and headed towards the galley.

Through a port whole John glimpsed the first sight of the new land he would settle, if given the chance. With amazement, he watched the land in front of him turn form the stark grey of the mist, to the deep greens of forest. As he wondered at the immense size of the trees he reminded himself that the lumber and other natural resources that would be discovered, could be exported hoping that this just might satisfy the lust of the financial backers of the expedition.

The darkness had eaten at him, he dampness rained upon him like a rain cloud trapped like he, but the worst had been the silence. Silence, it had always been his down fall his own personal torturer, but he dealt as best as he knew how he retreated within himself. As silence reigned, he thought of his youth in Lincolnshire, the fumbles of his teens, the conquest of both land and women he met on his travels, much of his thoughts were of travels- the freedom he had known-the glory, and most at hand were his plan for this new land.

He hoped to recapture glory, maybe leave a legacy worthy of notoriety, and most hopefully after all of his searching find his true self. The sudden noise of the door being opened and light flooding around the enclosed area brought him back to his senses. "Smith," He heard the voice and knew it as well as his own, as he waited he hoped Newport was here to end this imprisonment. "Here," was his answer and it dawned on him that he had forgotten the sound of his own voice.

As Newport stepped into the darkness he glazed at his friend with pity and self-loathing as Smith sat in the floor shielding his eyes from the light like demon released into heaven. "I am letting you out, you are free my friend." Slowly, John made his way from the floor and approached his captain, "Thank you" he offered his friend. He truly meant his response, for he felt no ill will towards his friend, he had been to well versed to the laws and he had also known that in some form his friend had saved him, if not from Ratcliffe- but from himself.

"John go and turn yourself from a bear into a man." Not until that moment had he been aware that he had grown a beard, "Yes" he thought, "How long had it been." He touched the hair on his face although in the darkness he knew it was gold, a shade that would match is eyebrows, a shade that was slightly darker than that of is head. "Trust me my friend I shall," was Smith's reply.

"Oh and Smith stay in your cabin, I've already ordered our governor to start acting like one, Ratcliffe will scout and he's all ready forgotten our first goal.." Smith finished for him, "To survive." "Yes to survive. I fear that he is a threat not only to you but also to us all. He is the law here and I greave for us." With a nod of agreement, John made his way to the light and to the openness of the deck. As he made his way to his cabin the inhaled his first breath of freedom and knew his redemption was soon ahead.

Powhatan Village

1607

In the women's hut Pocahontas, as well as Nakoma, and the rest of her father's wives anointed their bodies in oils and adorned themselves in mantles of feather of various shades as well as the sacred symbols past from generation to generation. Tonight, she would dance, tonight she would let the worries and the anguish in her heart die. She knew in her heart also that this night held the time when she would receive the marks stating her status as a daughter of the king and she in her own right was due the powers of her linage. She had chosen the palest doeskin she owned, draping over her body that glistened copper by the firelight.

The bodice of her dress accentuated her womanly curves and relived the right amount of bosom to be discrete and without being restrictive. On her head, she placed the rings of copper adorned with eagle feathers and heard the request of Nakoma who would also wear doeskin but of a darker verity. "Here is your mantel."

She gazed down at the crimson feathers so loving sewn together, it had been made by her mother, given to her for this night. Noticing her friend's sudden quietness Nakoma lent forward and gave her friend all the strength, she could muster within herself to chase away Pocahontas's fear. "She is with you and I will hold your hand," Nakoma expressed as she clung to her friend.

Although never being marked herself Nakoma understood Pocahontas's fear and of the longing for a mother that she would never know. Released from the hug Nakoma placed the mantel upon her friend a stood marveling at beauty and majesticness that she knew Pocahontas possessed. The moment was interrupted by a message from her father to come to him. With a last hug from Nakoma she headed to her father.

"You called father" "Yes there are a things you must know" At his words she felt trepidation rise within her, "What's wrong father." "My child war has made me weary and I fear for my people. "Father you are strong and I am here." "I know that Pocahontas but I still fear. I need someone to inherit some of my responsibilities." "I will help you father just…" However, the look in her father's eyes told her that she could not.

"The council does not allow women, it has never been done." The hope in Pocahontas' voice almost made him believe that her words could ring true. "But you could change that father." "Child, I can not and already the council believes that you control my actions already."

To this she could not deny, she had helped her father pass judgment the all knew it. "Daughter they would say you have too much power." "I am sorry father." "I know daughter. But here in this very longhouse while you dressed one of my chieftains that I trust, has asked for your hand for his son. As your father I have given it."

She could not keep the astonishment from her face, the Meda was right and she couldn't help but wonder if this brave could bring her happiness and in the same turn help her father. It was Powhatan's turn to look astonished, he had always hoped she would find a match for he had loved her mother and he wanted that for his child.

"Daughter he is from the north is even on his way home as I speak. It will be next harvest before a settlement in this issue will be reached. But trust this, just be ready for your place when it comes." She turned from her father then, to hide the anger that he would see in her eyes. She would do anything for her father and yes she would enter this marriage for her father sake, but she wanted the choice.

Her anger arose from the knowledge that she was already given away before she even could even agree to it. Suddenly, the dark thought entered her mind "Was I given away for honor like my mother." As her anger threatened to envelope her it receded with the knowledge that it was to never meant for her to have agreed.

She was property, property of her father, his to do with what he liked, this was already written generations ago, this was the law of women's existence. Some how this knowledge comforted her, this had happened to others and would continue to happen, somehow they survived and with her prayers she would too. She only hoped that who ever this brave was that he was the "Him" in which the Meda spoke of.

North America

1607

"I told you to march," was Ratcliffe's order to his men, they had been doing that all day. Tired and weighed down by their armor the men slowly made there way through the swamp as mosquitoes and other insects harassed them. "Boy I said move" and with a hard push Thomas hit the ground with thud. As the redhead fought to gather himself up Ratcliffe again shouted "I told you to march, it's minutes from night fall and we will make it back to the ship."

Thomas nodded in submission not wanting to anger the governor again. He knew before long Ratcliffe would get them all killed. Thomas even disagreed with the site the governor had chosen, a desolate swampy place near the river as the Radcliffe stated "good for gold" but what about survival.

That was Thomas's question. As he straightened himself Thomas thoughts echoed what he had heard other men of his station, sailors, farmers, labors, and even some other kinder gentlemen hope and prayed, that sometime soon Smith would lead the fledgling band of settlers. The sky entered it's myriads of colors as the sunset entered the kingdom of night. Somewhat frightened by what the dark in this new land could bring the men quickened their pace as they reach the mouth of the forest swamp and then soon to their shallops near by. Thomas overcome by a nagging tension made his way to the head of the group. As his steps led him on, the peace of the wooded area was broken by the anguish cry that spun him around.

The water was warm to Smith's his body. He had lounged in the makeshift tub feeling his muscles relax under the weight of the water. As he washed away the grime that had threatened permeate itself within him, so too did he wash away his old self. He had vowed to himself that he would make a new start, he was tired, yes tired was the word. His thoughts then turned to "Now how could a young man my age, in my twenties" he added "could be tired."

Then he answered himself, "Why of course wondering since the age of fifteen, making no roots- no ties, and expecting to die by the sword in which I weld. I feel old because everyone else is old." Those were his answers. As he lifted himself out of the water and stared at the grime left behind and made the vow that he would be a better man, a new man to himself and to others. He would protect this venture and help it to survive and maybe just maybe help heal himself in the process.

As he dried, he recounted each an every scar he'd ever received during his troublesome journey of discovery. He had gotten glory praise and honor, but what did it cost him? Most recently the cut on his left shoulder, he gingerly touched the scar and thought "again fighting in war that was not my own nor my king's." The scar or any of the others did not take away from his appeal he thought "I'm still a feast for the eyes. Yes, he thought this and then laughed it off. But no, again he thought he was not bad, "I was admired, deemed 'extraordinary' by some women of the court and then challenged by their husbands."

He had been subject to court intrigue, spent many a nights were he should not, and can't forget the guilt. He had guilt- like he had betrayed some part of himself, for he had, they used him and he realized that now, that was grime but that was all gone now. He thought, "Yes John that's all gone now." He dressed simple yet put together and most importantly not in rags. He did reap some befits form his endeavors and as he began to shave the beard of his interment he contemplated, "Yes the gentlemen might think I'm trash, but they can't say I dress like one."

As he readied to bring the last stoke to remove the remaining hair of the beard he had grown, he heard it. His ears did not fool him there were screams and he knew the screams of dying men all too well. He rushed from the cabin and made it to the ship's railing. In the twilight he saw men massacred before him and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

Thomas turned in time to see the arrow strike the man in what he was sure was his heart, blood rose from the man's mouth, this triggered Thomas to run. There was no warning to the Englishmen there had not meant to be one. Silently covered by darkness they crept, it would be five that would do so much damage to the large group of armed English. Without any alert to danger they had been stocked for the later part of the whole day. With using only arrows, the five naturals cut through the party leaving a wake of terror and echoing through the forest.

Thomas ran and ran then as in slow motion he saw the man in front of him fall to the earth. Through the corner of his eyes he saw the natural nearest him shoot Ratcliffe-he taking an arrow to the shoulder. Thomas knew then that the next shot would be him and in that instant knew he would have to fight for his life.

Turning his body and aiming in the same turn, he let matchlock ignite and with the noise of thundering clouds the ball was released. Thomas watched as it connected with flesh spinning the natural with the force of a powerful hand. For that moment there was sheer silence and in that horrible moment he knew he had taken a life.

The sound of more gun blast woke Thomas from his trance and he began again is race to the shallops. Dazed and unaware of those around him he finally saw the beach and helped push the nearest boat into the water. With muscles straining he and those in his shallop fought the incoming tide slowly making their way back to the ship.

John ran to Newport who watched the carnage before him. In a dry voice John spoke, "He underestimated them, he never felt it coming, God he probably didn't know what the hell the danger was." "Smith, Ratcliffe caused it himself, to survive you need to survival skill and if he wants to stay governor he best learn them."

"Good men are dying out there," Smith answered. "And we will grieve for them." The first rowboat reached the ship, both Newport and Smith help bring up their comrades. With immense pity John look upon Thomas. From the boy's eyes John knew in his heart, that this night Thomas's innocence had been taken from him, like his so long ago. The rowboats continued to come in. Ratcliffe was hauled upon the deck.

Upon seeing him John's anger overtook him and he charged at the governor, however his movement were prevented by the restraint of both Newport and Thomas. "You killed them," Smith spat out over bared teeth. "I was shot because of you," was Ratcliffe's response. "I didn't put me in that hell hole, you did that. They would be alive if wasn't for your jealousy."

Half dragging, half pushing Thomas and Newport forced John to his cabin. "Thomas, he killed them and I'm not even sure if it had been I that that massacre wouldn't have happened." "John it was five of them, just five," Thomas spoke in a hushed voice and then it broke with "and I killed one, I killed someone." John let go of his anger and embraced his friend, John let the boy cry on his shoulder as he had done so long ago. John's thought lingered to, "And tomorrow, we will gather our dead and bury them on the beach."

Powhatan Village

1607

It had hurt, the continuous tapping of the skin, the braking, then dye rubbed into the skin to make the marks have color. The one situated around her arm had hurt the worst, also she had found that the then lined marks that circled around her thighs had not taken the longest. With the last tap she was allowed to set up, somewhat gingerly she made it to the long house door.

She emerged like a child out of the great mother, to tenderness and love. The feast had already begun, and now she would take her place among the dancers to give praise to safe return of their emperor and the bountiful harvest granted to them by their gods. Stretching her long legs and lithe body to rhythms and chants of her people, Pocahontas performed in leaps, bends, bounds that she had not remembered since the freedom of her youth. Humbly dragged from the crowd for a rest by Nakoma the two sat in grass listing to wind as it played along their skin.

"My father has asked me to marry, no not asked, has given me away to marriage Nakoma." "When will you learn that it is our way, we have no choice. You have always wanted to break tradition." "It still hurt to know that the one person you love the most has given you away," with this a tear slid down her face. "Nakoma I am not trying to break tradition, I just want the choice of who I give myself to, who I love. Why is that so hard." "I don't know why it's hard, it just is. And maybe he is the man in which Meda spoke," Nakoma answered. "I pray Nakoma."

From the distance they saw they runner enter. "Pocahontas is he not a runner for your uncle the werowance." "It is" Pocahontas gathered herself and moved a quickly as she could to her father's long house. "Attacked pale men," she heard her father's voice boom. She moved through the crowd to take her place near him. "The were men of no color and used weapons that we have not seen before. However we did beat them back from our shores," the runner answered.

"It was like once before and as the prophecy foretold. These pale strangers are a threat to us we must drive them out," the eldest counsel member offered. "Father, we don't know what they are here for if we act.." However, she was cut off by the member of the counsel "she might be the woman of the prophecy, she will destroy us with what she carries between her legs." The insult hurt, it cut deep, because she was woman- she was cursed and because of the power she could grasp she was hated. Never in her days could she think she could destroy her people and she would not accept that for her fate. "No," it was the one word that escaped her lips and it startled because they expected her to concede- or worse cry like the women she was.

However, they had misjudged her will, for she had will. "Father, if we learn nothing of them, then we will not know how to defeat them if they are a threat. Learn from them if they must be destroyed. Let the lust of war cool." "You daughter knows not ..," the member stressed however he was cut off by Powhatan. "No she knows not nor do we, if they comeback don't attack, we must learn how to defeat this new enemy of ours for our own sake." Pocahontas eyes rolled back as she let out a tentative sigh of relief, for she knew this was the beginning of her fate. "Now go and partake of the festivities," was Powhantan's command. However, as the room began to clear she felt her father take hold her trembling hand and she knew that what was started by her outburst had bagan the power struggle between emperor and council.