Chapter Four- The Conference

"Well?" Thomas asked.

"Well what?" Pocahontas asked him.

"What did he say? What's going to happen to him?" Thomas asked. Pocahontas's vision blurred again.

"They're going to hang him, Thomas. He's going to die." Pocahontas sobbed.

"No! They can't kill him!" Thomas said.

"They are. I wish there was something I could do." Pocahontas said.

"But there's nothing you can do, Pocahontas. Nothing." Thomas said. Pocahontas stopped crying.

"Thomas, the last time someone told me there was nothing I could do, I saved someone's life." Pocahontas said strongly, remembering.

"Who told you there was nothing you could do?" Thomas asked, knowing what she was talking about.

"I told myself there was nothing I could do, Thomas. But then I realized that John was my future and there was something I could do." Pocahontas said, her eyes hard with determination.

"But it's not your father this time, Pocahontas. It's the English Government." Thomas said. Pocahontas sighed, knowing Thomas was right. She walked home in the brisk November air. She went home and found her father looking for her.

"Pocahontas, where have you been? What's wrong?" Powhatan asked. For the millionth time that day, Pocahontas's vision blurred.

"John's been arrested, Father. They're going to hang him in seven months." Pocahontas said. Powhatan hugged his daughter.

"Oh Pocahontas, I'm so sorry." He said. Pocahontas sobbed against him.

"It's not fair, Father! John didn't do anything!" She said sadly through her tears.

"I know. He's like a son to me. I'm worried about him, too." Powhatan said, trying to calm his daughter down. "Go get some rest, my daughter." He said. Pocahontas nodded and walked back to her hut with tears still rolling down her cheeks.

Meanwhile, the door to John's cell was opened. John looked up. Two guards came over to him. Knowing he had a broken rib, they yanked him from the ground roughly and twisted his arms behind him. They chained his hands and pushed him out the door, the shove so powerful, John stumbled. They dragged him up from the ground and they continued to shove him until they reached the courthouse, which was really just a cabin with a few chairs. It had just been constructed that day.

"We have the prisoner here." One of the guards said. John looked at the "judge". It was Eric Dawson.

"John Smith, you are being held on the account of treason under the orders of King James of England." Dawson read from a paper. John nodded.

"You are to be out to death by hanging on June twenty-first of next year." Dawson read on. "Until then, you will be imprisoned in the Jamestown Jail." Dawson stopped. "I'm so sorry, John."

"It's alright, Eric. It's not your fault." John said.

"Take him away, boys." Eric ordered. John began to struggle. He wasn't going back to jail without a fight this time. He knew struggling did nothing for him, but he had to try. But what would he do if he did get free? Run to the village? And then do what? He couldn't do anything with his arms twisted and cuffed tightly behind him. Finally, the guards stopped him by hitting him on his hurting rib, injuring it more and breaking another one. John gasped in pain and sank to the ground.

"That should keep you quiet." One of the guards said. John glared at him in pain.

"Take him away. Any more struggling and you'll get a few lashes to go with those broken ribs." The head guard said. Thomas watched from his cabin as they push John along the path back towards the jailhouse. He couldn't believe that John was going to be hanged. And for something he didn't do! He hoped he was OK. At the jailhouse, the guards unchained John and shoved him back into a cell. This one had a window. It was a barred window, but at least it wasn't as stuffy and damp as the other one. This one was colder. John looked out the window and thought about Pocahontas. He hoped she was OK. He hoped she knew that he wasn't afraid.