Out of all of them, he said, I was the most beautiful.

We rolled and danced and laughed and ran and swam, day after day, but between all this, we found time to tell each other the things that we hadn't realized we were keeping secret.

"Pocahontas, I've seen so many people. So many women—Turkish, Algerian, French, Russian, even Chinese. They all looked attractive in their own way, I suppose. But none of them, not a single one, comes close to you. You're like one of the Egyptian queens of old, Nefertiti. At least, from what I've heard of her. They say she was wise and beautiful…just like you."

Was he the most handsome man I had ever seen? He certainly was not what I had been brought up to see as handsome. His skin was only slightly tanned, and weathered from his years in the sun and at sea. Shallow lines sometimes creased his forehead; his lips were thin and pale. But his eyes reflected everything and drew everything in at the same time. His broad, sharp shoulders and angular jaw seemed to me like an arrow, pointing straight and true. Spinning arrow…

"Are you inspecting me?" Playful, then doubtful. "Have I found wanting?"

"None of the men in my village are like you. You stand like an eagle about to take flight. But…I don't know if that is enough. You must be a brave warrior."

"Oh, I am." Solemn, but his mouth twitched at the corners, and I continued.

"I'll have to take your word, since you have no tokens to prove it. Hmmm…you must have a tattoo that proclaims the noble tribe of your birth."

"Well, I have one with a cross and anchor, if that'll do."

"It will have to, if it's all you have...Do you follow the traditions of the elders?"

"I don't brawl, and I go to church as often as possible."

"Hmmm." I pretended to deliberate, casting him unsure glances every few moments. "If everything you've said is true…then you are the most handsome and most honorable man I have ever met."

And so it continued. He taught me geography, brought out a map of the world and showed me each and every place that had been discovered as of yet. He told me about silk, a beautiful fabric that came from China, was embroidered in India, and got worn by Britain's most fashionable women. He assured me that it looked better when it was still in China and India. About spices and fragrances like cinnamon and sandalwood, and even brought some to show me. He had books with printed illustrations of desert sands, port towns, dense jungles. I pored over them each night, careful to hide them from the women I shared a longhouse with, and learned new words for our now daily conversations.

I, in turn, taught him how to tell which way north was without his compass by observing which way the river is flowing, or where the moss grows on a tree. I told him how many moons had to pass before the deer, wolf and bear mothers gave birth to their young. I showed him the signs that the people of our land use to communicate even when we do not speak the same words. We canoed through the rapids together, and we jumped off the cliff and into the bay every time we got a chance. I even took him to meet Grandmother Willow, thrilled when he understood her without my having to teach him. No matter what we were doing, though, our hands seemed to meet, embracing each other like long lost family.

It was so perfect that I knew it couldn't last. I couldn't exactly ignore the way my breath would hitch whenever he did something with reckless abandon, smiling at me the entire time. Or how our endless conversations would sometimes be interrupted when one of us realized that the other was staring, or how little space was between us. I was lost once more, lost because I had somehow managed to come dangerously close to being in love-not only with someone who was not my betrothed, but an enemy. In the village, I heard more and more whisperings of an attack on the white men being planned. I hoped that my father's steady, contemplative nature would hold it off until they could leave, but I could not know for sure. And though I wanted so badly to keep him, I knew that peace would not come till I saw John and his people go.

"John. Why did your people come here? Why have you not gone away yet?"

When I saw on his face that he did not want to tell me for fear of hurting me, I knew that I would not like the answer.

"Mostly to establish a colony. Like I was telling you before you became furious with me," he laughed at the memory, and then sighed. "England has been interested in colonizing the Americas for a long time, ever since the Spaniards began to set up colonies in South America, Hispaniola, and Florida. But many of the men came here for gold." He paused, trying to gauge my reaction. What was there to react to? Was it something about gold?

"What's gold?"

He looked at me as if I had to be kidding, then frowned, and took something out of his pouch.

I gasped. I had never even seen metal until I met John clad in his steel armor, but this was more beautiful than that could ever be. It was a deep yellow, a yellow I had never even seen before in nature, and it sparkled in the light like the surface of a lake, or a dragonfly's wing. Somehow, even the bright blue turquoise and opalescent abalone shell of the beautiful necklace I wore now seemed…dull.

I knew that it must be valuable. Maybe it was what they traded with, much like my people traded with wampum belts. And then the terrible truth made my heart sink to my stomach. John's men had come to rape and plunder our village of whatever gold they could find, most likely killing all of us in the process. Greed could drive people to do terrible things.

"But there's nothing like that around here!" I cried, then relaxed. If he told them there was no gold, they would have no reason to attack us. They would leave, and all trouble would be avoided. Right?

"John, you will tell them that, won't you?" He sighed, but nodded. Did he think that they would not believe him? No, they had to. He had told me that many of his men trusted him with their lives. Would they trust him about their money?

Before he turned to go, I spoke once more. "John! If they leave…will…will you go with them?"

A faraway look came into his eyes. "I wouldn't have anywhere to call home. I've never really belonged anywhere."

Indecision tore at me before I uttered what might as well have been a confession of love. "You could belong here."

Minutes passed as he carefully thought out his response. Was this how he looked when he was preparing a battle plan? And why was it so easy for me to guess the patterns of his mind? Before I could ponder that, he came to a decision.

"Meet me tonight. Right here." He softly pressed his lips to my forehead, and was gone.