The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I
Chapter 13: My Eternal Summer
John Rolfe had promised to leave the hut for the evening feast that day. He brushed and tied his hair back, preparing himself for social interaction as best he could. When the beat of drums began, Pocahontas took him by the hand and led him to the door of the hut. Just then Siwili made an appearance through the curtain, a big smile on his face. He beckoned them to go outside with him. They followed, the Englishman sticking close to his friends because he knew he would be inundated by people the moment he set foot outside.
"Oh, um… Hello," John Rolfe greeted as hands descended on him from all sides. His right and left extremities were taken hostage by children. Meanwhile, the adults and adolescents who could reach were stroking his hair and touching his face all at the same time. Others clung to his clothes. He had to stop walking until Siwili came to his rescue.
The warrior took John Rolfe by the wrist. He pulled the Englishman through the crowd and then behind his own back, shaking a finger at the overeager throng. "Heamalahilo do ra tansé menos egas qués, tiadros," he scolded them, shooing them off toward the feast.
"I think they like you," Pocahontas remarked as Siwili accompanied them to the feast.
John Rolfe frowned at her. "Everyone's really touchy-feely around here."
The massive bonfire came into view as Siwili led them downhill. Rolfe could not believe how many people were present. There had to be one hundred and fifty individuals at the very least. The music was loud and boisterous and food was everywhere.
Siwili, Pocahontas, John Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, and Flit reached the edge of the crowd. The throng parted, making a path that led directly to the great chief. Rolfe's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he laid eyes on him. The man was colossal. He had to be the height of Uttamatomakkin and the muscle mass of Chief Powhatan combined at absolute minimum. The moment the local chief caught sight of them, he held up a hand and the music and dancing came to an immediate halt. The stoicism fell from the chief's face when he spotted Rolfe, craning his thick neck to get a better look. He held up a hand and beckoned the three of them forward. "Oh hell," the diplomat muttered below his breath, shrinking behind Siwili. He peered apprehensively over the warrior's shoulder.
"Is something wrong, John?" Pocahontas inquired.
John Rolfe flashed a shaky grin. "Of course not! I just… I-I didn't mean to disrupt their celebration," came his rapid-fire response. He nearly jumped out of his skin when their enthusiastic warrior friend took him by the hand and pulled him onward. "Wait but…" he tried to protest. His first instinct was to resist but he fought against the urge, not wanting to appear disrespectful. "Oh dear," he said, bounding along after Siwili.
Before John Rolfe knew it, he and Siwili stood before the great chief. The man towered over the two of them like a mountain but Siwili showed no signs of anxiety as he greeted the chief like one would a revered father figure. "Heamalahilo Hetoga, elemeni ti ras careyn to ra duté vetras demintin." He brought Rolfe before him and said, "Djahn." Then he pointed to the Powhatan woman as she leaned on a crutch farther back, "Pocahontas." Siwili tapped Rolfe on the shoulder and pointed to their great leader. "Heamalahilo," he said, identifying the chief, and then enunciated, "Hi-uh-mala-hee-loh."
"Hea-mala-hilo," John Rolfe repeated in a subdued tone. He peered up at the imposing warrior king. The chief looked to be in his late forties with a long angular face and high cheekbones. He wore thick buckskin boots and dyed hides that draped from his shoulders and hung nearly all the way down to the ground. His massive and muscular bare arms were covered with pencil-thin tattoo lines of blue, green, red, and yellow from the tops of his shoulders to the tips of his thick fingers. His elongated face was a mask of such minute designs. Many necklaces of shell, copper, stone, and animal teeth and bone hung from his neck all the way down his lower abdomen. His hair bore a mohawk of long red feathers tied into it, along with beads, carves seashells, and other small items.
Before John Rolfe knew it, he was thrust in front of this giant all by himself. Siwili backed up to allow Heamalahilo to inspect the strange visitor. Rolfe's human shield was out of reach and well over a hundred sets of foreign eyes were upon him. The Englishman did the only thing he knew to do in such situations. He extended himself into a low formal bow before the great chief, a show of respect that he prayed would be recognized as such. When he rose again, he jumped nearly ten feet in the air. Heamalahilo, who had been standing a good five feet from him, was now less than one foot away. Rolfe yelped in alarm as a pair of massive hands descended upon him.
The chief held John Rolfe's head, turning his face this way and that. He stroked Rolfe's bristled jaw, stared into his eyes, pulled his hair strap out to run bulky fingers through his lustrous locks—all with an air of enthrallment. Holding his side-swept fringe in one hand, the chief pointed to it with the other. "Sope nimus to ra do nama supe?" he asked Siwili.
Siwili nodded. Heamalahilo inspected John Rolfe's hands and torn clothes. Finally, he returned his hair strap and let him go back to his friends. The Englishman appeared to be in a zombie-like trance as he wandered back to Siwili and Pocahontas.
Pocahontas took his hand and kissed the back of it, snapping him out of his catatonia. He jumped. "Are you alright, John?" she inquired, noticing that he was trembling just a little.
"Of course, love. Perfectly fine!" John Rolfe blurted in a high-pitched voice. His face flushed as he cleared his throat. Then he spoke again in a deeper and more dignified voice. "I mean, yes. I'm fine." He took a deep breath and tied his hair back again.
Pocahontas appeared worried. "Did he hurt you?"
John Rolfe shook his head. "No, of course not."
"Okay," Pocahontas continued hesitantly. "It's just that when I saw him touching your hair, I was worried he might be hurting your head. That's all. I'm glad you're fine."
John Rolfe grinned at her concern. "I understand," he returned. "But my head doesn't hurt nearly as much as it did a week ago. It aches a little but I'm fine for the most part."
Heamalahilo raised his hand and the music and dancing started up as if nothing had happened. That was when the crowd besieged the couple again. Like when John Rolfe had stepped out of the remedial hut earlier, hands came at him from all angles. The Englishman tried to hide behind Pocahontas and called out for Siwili, immediately feeling claustrophobic from all the attention from the local villagers.
Indeed, their warrior friend came to their rescue. Siwili tamed the crowd, making them line up to take turns. Only four people at a time were allowed to look and touch. They only got to a count of fifty to do so before their turn was over and the next group got a go. John Rolfe did not mind the attention or even the touching. What he disliked was getting swamped by human bodies, leaving no possible escape route. That made him panic.
Pocahontas watched from several paces away, leaning against a large oak tree. "John," she called to him, "are you hungry? I can bring you something to eat if you want."
"Yes. If you please, love," John Rolfe returned.
"Okay," Pocahontas said. She got a plate and started loading it with food samples. A slice of turkey breast, boiled trout, steamed maize, roasted squash with honey, mushrooms, and a handful of toasted acorns made up the selection. She only needed one hand to hold the plate because the dish-bearers graciously placed the foodstuffs on it for her.
When Pocahontas returned, she found John Rolfe holding up a giggling girl who looked to be about six. The child was wearing a decorative wolfskin hood on her head that made it look like she had big rabbit ears. "Pocahontas, look! Isn't this adorable? She looks just like a bunny," he remarked. He turned the girl around so she was facing away from him and bounced her feet off the ground a couple of times. "Go on. Hop around for us."
As soon as John Rolfe released the child, she did indeed hop about in a very rabbit-like manner. She laughed and went nuts, thrilled by receiving so much attention from the pale stranger. Pocahontas giggled to herself. "Yes, John, very adorable," she agreed. She had wondered before how the Englishman felt about young children. This was the first time she had gotten to see him interacting with them. She limped over with her crutch and handed him his plate. He had to pull one of his hands back from a curious young warrior to accept it. "Here's a sampling from the feast," she announced to him.
"Ooh! Thank you, love," John Rolfe replied, hardly noticing the others still scrutinizing him. He knew he would starve if he waited for them to lose interest first. Rolfe spotted the small corncob with multi-colored kernels and pointed to it. "What's this? It's pretty."
"That's maize. You eat the part around the outside. My people cultivate it too but we have different varieties. Powhatan maizes are a bit bigger. I will show you when we get home. You probably ate it the last time you were in Jamestown and just didn't realize it. It can be incorporated into many different kinds of dishes," Pocahontas explained.
"Interesting," John Rolfe murmured, pulling back his other hand from a young boy. He tried to pick up the maize but dropped it, shaking his hand off. "Ah, too hot! I'll have to wait for that one." Instead, the Englishman started with the acorns and wild mushrooms, which he really liked. He pointed to another steaming hot item on his plate. "And what's this? I saw some of these raw a few days ago but I forgot to ask what they were."
"That's squash. It's cultivated with maize. Squash, beans, and maize are farmed always together. At home, we call them the Three Sisters because they help each other grow."
"I don't really know the first thing about growing plants, not even by English methods," John Rolfe admitted. He waited for the food to cool and devoured everything. By that time, he was bored of being scrutinized. He pulled away from his examiners and found Pocahontas by the bonfire. She was sitting on a stump and watching the dancers. Rolfe decided to join her, plopping down cross-legged on the ground beside her.
The smaller children of the tribe rushed in, most clad in doeskin as the nighttime weather had cooled over the last few days. John Rolfe had made the mistake of lowering himself to their level. Hence, they determined it was a prime opportunity to swamp and examine him. The little ones chattered, giggled, and poked at him as he let out a gravelly sigh. "This again," he uttered to Pocahontas with a slight eye roll, feigning exasperation.
"I don't think they're going to lose interest any time soon," Pocahontas noted, laughing.
Some adults, possibly the children's parents, stood by watching the interactions as they conversed with each other. John Rolfe peered up at Pocahontas. "Probably not."
"Proba-ly nawt," one tall warrior repeated, testing out the foreign words on his tongue.
John Rolfe snapped a look up at him. "Ha! You don't even know what that means!" he retorted, pointing. He puffed out his chest as if in triumph. Pocahontas giggled.
The perpetual grin of amusement did not fall from the warrior's face as he turned and said to another slightly shorter fellow, "To ra noté 'Proba-ly nawt' tysen mo da rotot."
"Oh great," John Rolfe muttered, turning away. He folded his arms petulantly. "Now they're gossiping about me," he bellyached, much to Pocahontas's amusement.
"Goss-uh-ping a-bowt me," one boy repeated, taking a cue from the adults. He stood up straight-backed and folded his arms over his chest, mimicking John Rolfe's demeanor.
John Rolfe narrowed his eyes at the child. "Oh no, you don't! You're too small to get away with that. Come here!" he demanded, pulling the boy into his lap and tickling him. The child squealed, laughing in a high-pitched voice as he tried to free himself. Rolfe released him and he ran off, giggling, jumping, and screaming his head off. Pocahontas laughed hard, finding the display hilarious. "There. My revenge is complete."
John Rolfe's revenge backfired when the other kids got excited too. They started jumping and shrieking. He tried to shush them but they only got louder. He glanced at Pocahontas, covering his ears against the shrill noise. "That may have been a mistake!" he shouted.
Pocahontas nodded, covering her ears as well albeit with an amused grin on her face. A familiar face pushed her way through the crowd, exclaiming, "Djahn, Djahn, Djahn!"
John Rolfe gently seized her and held her up by the ribcage. "Aquela, Aquela, Aquela!" the diplomat returned. He put her in his lap and grabbed a stick from the ground, seeking to distract the noisy children from their squealing. The moment he started to draw in the dirt, every last one of them fell silent. They all watched what he was doing closely, especially Aquela. He made a picture of a rabbit. "Look. It's a hippity-hop bunny rabbit," the Englishman told them. The children stared at it, a few whispering among themselves. One little girl hesitantly started to hop in place. Rolfe pointed the stick straight at the girl. "That's the one! We call it a bunny. Can you say bunny? Buh-nee," he enunciated.
"Buh-nee," several of the children slowly repeated.
One little girl, about eight, jumped up and down excitedly. "Mootzeme," she indicated, pointing to the rabbit. She hopped again like the aforementioned animal. "Buh-nee?"
"Mootzeme?" John Rolfe repeated, raising a brow at the terminology. The Englishman glanced up at Pocahontas. "That could be their word for 'rabbit,'" he speculated.
A roughly four-year-old boy started to hop too. "Mootzeme."
"Yes, I think so," Pocahontas replied.
John Rolfe cleared his throat. "Right then!" he announced, drawing a carrot in front of the rabbit. "Now, you little rascals, it seems that Mr. Mootzeme wants your carrots."
The children tilted their heads at the carrot, unsure what it represented. "I haven't seen carrots in this village, John. I'm not sure they know what they are," Pocahontas said.
"Ah," John Rolfe returned. He erased the picture of the carrot and drew a simplified image of corn on the cob, detailing a few of the little kernels that made up the unique vegetable. "Mr. Mootzeme wants all of your maize then. Maize. May-z."
A few children repeated the word but one boy pointed and exclaimed, "Holo!"
"Holo?" John Rolfe said curiously.
"Holo," the boy confirmed. He mimed the action of eating corn on the cob.
John Rolfe grinned. "Ah yes! Holo."
John Rolfe and the local children spent the evening using pictures to exchange words in their respective languages. Eventually, the Englishman was able to illustrate very simple stories, rather than just single things or actions—"the goose flies south for winter," "the owl eats the mouse," and "the girl plants seeds in spring," being among them.
Chief Heamalahilo stopped by briefly to see what they doing, as did other adults. He grinned and walked away afterward. The feast soon dried up and the dancers finished dancing for the night. Parents came to take their young children off to bed. When Siwili arrived, John Rolfe readily handed Aquela up to him. The warrior propped the tired girl on a hip and said to her, "Gugé virso éqi a Djahn en Pocahontas, Aquela."
"Gugé virso, Djahn en Pocahontas," Aquela spoke, yawning at the two of them.
John Rolfe and Pocahontas waved goodbye to Aquela and Siwili. When they had left, Rolfe climbed to his feet and stretched out his legs and back. "Well, love, I think I'm going to retire even if it is a little early for most. I don't know about you but, for me, it's been a rather full day and I am exhausted," he expressed, suppressing a yawn.
"Actually I think I'll join you," Pocahontas replied, following him back to the hut.
…
OCTOBER 12, 1613
It was two hours before noon the next day. Pocahontas prepared a large covered basket in the remedial hut for an outing with John Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, and Flit. With the animals in tow, the Powhatan princess ventured out in search of the Englishman. She was not so pleased to find him down by the river's edge surrounded by a group of a dozen or more giggling young women. Siwili and Awenasa were together working on a fish rack about twenty paces away. Discarded corn-filled baskets lay on the ground near the group. It did not take a genius to put two-and-two together and figure out that Rolfe had gone looking for Siwili and been intercepted by the lady harvesters returning from the fields. "No, no! See here, madam! You cannot touch me there. Have you no propriety? Ah! I say!"
Hearing John Rolfe's distress, Siwili looked up and called out to him. Pocahontas made it there first, pushing through the crowd with the crutch under her left arm and the picnic basket under her right. She snapped at the women to disperse, making her disapproval clear. "Go on," she decreed, nodding toward the corn baskets. "Go back to work!"
When Pocahontas got to John Rolfe, he appeared to be flustered with his hair and clothes rumpled. He straightened himself up a bit before addressing Pocahontas. Meanwhile, the badgered women, perplexed by Pocahontas's behavior, retreated from the scene. "Thanks, love! You're right on time. Thank goodness!… Say, what's that you've got?" he inquired, noticing the basket. "Shall I carry it for you?" he graciously offered, holding out his arms.
Pocahontas handed it to him. "Come, John. Let's go for a swim by the waterfalls." She turned around, giving the cowed women one last dirty look to ensure she had gotten her point across. To everyone's fortune, Siwili intervened and appeared to be explaining to the harvesters that Pocahontas and John Rolfe were a couple. Pocahontas led Rolfe and their animal friends away from the others and headed west along the river's edge.
Days back, Awenasa had introduced Pocahontas to the waterfall where the village women came to bathe at dawn each morning. It was before John Rolfe had recuperated enough to accompany her outside. Now, she wanted him to see the area for himself. Pocahontas had followed the ladies there early that same morning and washed herself thoroughly. The waterfall itself was very modest, only about eight feet high. If one swam through to the other side of the cascade, one would find a small gleaming pool. Beyond that happened a cave illuminated by beautiful blue sunlit water reflections. There was an easy-to-access dry exit on the right side of the waterfall. It was the perfect place to get privacy, which is why Pocahontas assumed that the modest Englishman would appreciate it.
Better still, atop the waterfall was a small grassy meadow on one side of the river and a sandy riverbank on the other. It was the perfect place to relax and dry off after a swim or to have a picnic. As they arrived, John Rolfe remarked on the beauty of their magnificent surroundings. This branch of the river was no wider than thirty feet across and the water was five feet deep max near the bottom of the waterfall. Cattails and lily pads bordered the rich blue river on the far side. A large bullfrog perched upon a shiny gray stone on the near side of the river. Birds, chipmunks, squirrels, butterflies, dragonflies, bees, and fish darted around going about their business. The area was bursting with life.
Meeko and Percy had already jumped in by the time Pocahontas and John Rolfe arrived. Rolfe set the basket by the water's edge and removed his boots and socks before wading in. Pocahontas joined him, splashing around playfully. They fooled around for an hour, splashing each other and chatting and waving at any villagers who happened to pass by.
"Coming here was an excellent idea, Pocahontas. This would be the perfect place to bathe if we only had soap," John Rolfe lamented, poking at a big silvery fish as it swam by. It jumped up and slapped his shoulder with its tail before darting away. "Ow!"
Pocahontas flashed a clever smirk. "We have something like soap," she said, reaching for the picnic basket. She pulled out a small ceramic jug. "It's made by mashing the roots of a certain plant that grows around here. I saw Inola making it yesterday. We do the same thing in my village but we use a different kind of plant." She pulled the plug on top and held the jug to John Rolfe's nose. "Here, smell. There are aromatic herbs and oils."
John Rolfe sniffed the mixture. "Oh, wow! Yes, that is like a perfume."
Pocahontas reached over John Rolfe's shoulder and gently pulled out his hair tie. "Let me wash your hair for you, John," she offered, depositing the buckskin tie on the basket. The Powhatan princess poured some of the fragrant mixture into the palm of her hand.
John Rolfe blinked. "Okay. Thank you, Pocahontas," he replied, turning around to face away. He rested his upper body on a flat boulder that rose a few inches out of the water in front of him and sighed. "Are you going to want the favor returned, my dear?"
Pocahontas put the jug on the riverbank and replugged the top opening. "No, I washed my hair early this morning before you even woke up. This place here is where all the women in the village come to bathe at the crack of dawn," she explained.
"Ah. Then I will avoid it at said time." Pocahontas rubbed the liquid between her palms into a light froth and ran her lubricated fingers through his sopping wet hair. She massaged it into his scalp, careful at the back of his head even though the bruise had mostly healed. She spread the suds throughout all of his hair and then used her fingertips to go around his hairline in small circles. He uttered a chuckle. "That feels nii-iice."
Pocahontas smiled as she continued with her endeavor. She pushed the lathered length of his hair up onto the top of his head and swirled it around as she worked her way through it. "I think we're just about done here. Now, John," she said, withdrawing her sudsy hands as he glanced back at her. She pointed to the waterfall. "There is a private cave and a pool of water behind those falls. I put a fresh pair of clothes, more soap, and a plant sponge back there for you. Why don't you go take a full bath and give me your clothes so I can wash and mend them for you? The fabric has so many tears in it right now, it almost looks like you're wearing rags. Then we can go have lunch on the top of the falls," she proposed, pointing right at the picnic basket. "You'll feel great afterward."
"You would do all that?" John Rolfe inquired, raising his brows.
Pocahontas nodded. "Of course," she returned without hesitation, "and I'll keep an eye on the entrance for you to make sure no one goes in while you are busy in there."
"Thanks, love!" John Rolfe enthusiastically declared, kissing her on the cheek.
Pocahontas smiled. "Try not to use too much of the soap. It's hard to make."
"I always conserve," John Rolfe returned, returning a smile. He turned and waded away, swimming through the falls. Percy followed behind him. Half a minute later, two hands reached through the obscuring cascade and held out the sopping wet clothes and boots.
Pocahontas took them and swam over to the washing stone by the bank. It had been placed there by the village women for that exact purpose. She lathered the garments up and scrubbed them thoroughly against the smooth ribbed surface until they were dirt-free. She rinsed them, wrung them out, and hung them on a low-lying branch. Then she got out of the water and put the soap jug away in the picnic basket. Meeko came over, still dripping wet from the river, and sniffed the basket. Since breakfast that morning—and after swimming—he had built up quite an impressive appetite. Pocahontas placed a hand over the cover to stop him from opening it. "You'll have to wait for John to finish, Meeko. There's plenty for all of us in here, trust me." She washed the diplomat's stinky boots inside and out and shined the outside of the leather with flower oil.
Meeko frowned and shook the water out of his gray fur. It was not long before he found a nearby wild strawberry bush to tide himself over. John Rolfe and Percy took about twenty minutes. They both soon emerged from the falls squeaky clean. Rolfe was preoccupied with the bizarre new clothes that he was wearing. The full-length pants were made of dark brown buckskin. Nubuck fringes on the sides extended from his waistband to his knees. The sleeveless vest bore fringes around the seams and atop the shoulders. Rolfe held the soap jug and sponge together in one hand and used the other to play with the thin tassels. "These clothes feel weird," he remarked, spotting Pocahontas on a boulder near the picnic basket. She was grinning at him. "What are these dangly bits for?"
"Just decoration," Pocahontas replied, rising to her feet with the help of her crutch. "As you Londoners say, it's in fashion around here. Don't worry. You only need to wear that outfit long enough for your clothes and shoes to dry out and for me to finish mending them." The Powhatan woman pointed to the picnic basket upon which she had laid John Rolfe's damp clothes to dry out in the sun. "Pick that up and follow me," she instructed.
John Rolfe stowed the jug and sponge in the basket and hefted it up, pushing his feet into the wet but clean boots. He followed Pocahontas uphill. She had to take the longer route because the short one was too steep for a crutch. When they reached the top, they stepped past a line of trees and found a beautiful meadow of lush grasses and wildflowers. "Wow! This is nice, Pocahontas," the Englishman remarked, readily breathing in the fresh air.
John Rolfe and Pocahontas strolled to the grassy riverbank and the latter spread out a barkcloth blanket on the flat ground. They placed the basket in the middle to weigh it down against the light breeze. Pocahontas had Rolfe spread his clothes out on a sunny boulder to dry. When he rejoined her on the blanket, she was laying out the dishes. The ceramic containers were full of maize, cooked fish and venison, roasted honey nuts, berries, and mashed pawpaw fruit. Meeko began stuffing himself as usual. Percy took a share of the meat and maize. The hummingbird was preoccupied with the many gorgeous wildflowers in the meadow. The human couple ate in silence for a while before Pocahontas decided to bring up a topic they had avoided for a whole week. "John, what do you remember from before the storm?" she asked, lying on her side facing Rolfe.
John Rolfe swallowed the bite in his mouth and mirrored her stance. "I was going to ask you. I only have flashes of events on the ship before the storm but I have no idea what order they fall in," he explained, reaching over to interlace his fingers with hers.
"I'll tell you what I remember," Pocahontas began. "The night before, we were all finishing up our dinner on deck. Jacqueline came to get me because she wanted to show me a beautiful pink seashell in the berthing quarters. That dinner was the last time I saw you before you showed up with your brain injury. You didn't join our storytelling that night like I thought you would. So I started to get worried and asked about you. Charlotte went to check on you. She came back and told me that you had retired for the night. Furthermore, I recall that Meeko, Percy, and Flit had been missing for hours and I had no idea where they were. Charlotte also told me that they had chosen to spend the night with you. I thought it was odd but I didn't yet panic at that point," she detailed.
While Flit was sucking nectar from a nearby blossom, he overheard Pocahontas's words and perked up. He flew between Pocahontas and John Rolfe and shook his head, squeaking in disagreement. Rolfe gestured to the bird. "I agree with Flit. I haven't got any memories of spending the night with them on the ship ever. But why would Charlotte lie? From what I recall of her, she seemed very nice," he remarked, pensive.
Flit chirped twice and flew to a bare spot of dirt off the edge of the blanket. Pocahontas and John Rolfe sat up, following him with their eyes. "What is it, Flit?" Pocahontas inquired. The hummingbird used his beak to draw a square on the ground. Then he lined the square with vertical bars. Rolfe only raised a brow, unsure what it meant. Pocahontas tilted her head to the side and straightened it. "Huh. It kind of looks like… a cage?" she theorized, scratching her head. Flit chirped twice again and fervently nodded.
Percy had finished up his meal. He yipped at them, nodding as well. John Rolfe's eyes widened. "You mean to tell us that all three of you were trapped in cages?!" Again, they nodded. "Where? Down in the brig?" And again, the answer was affirmative.
"Now, who could've… Who would've…?" Pocahontas murmured, tapping a finger upon her bottom lip. Suddenly, her eyes grew wide and she gazed at John Rolfe, gaping.
John Rolfe appeared alarmed. "What, Pocahontas? What is it?!"
"Nicole," Pocahontas hissed, knitting her brows. "She…"
"She pushed you off the ship during the storm! I saw it with my own eyes! I remember now!" John Rolfe blurted, jumping to his feet. "A great wave came and washed all of you overboard, including Nicole. She must be dead! Wait, wait… But why would she want to hurt you? I can't recall… I remember she was the one who was kind enough to sew new outfits for the girls. She even found an English flag for the ship. After you were washed overboard, I tried to take a rope and door to go after you. Wait… No, that can't be right."
"What can't be right?" Pocahontas inquired.
John Rolfe chuckled. "I have a terrifying memory but it must have been a dream."
"What memory?"
John Rolfe hesitated at first, simpering. "Well, I think I saw something horrifying in that storm. When I was about to go in after you, I saw a sort of… monster. It was a frightful face in the wind. It looked like it was made out of wind." Rolfe squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, squeezing the spot between his eyes with his fingers. "I'm sorry. That probably sounds insane. It must have been an illusion brought on by my concussion."
Pocahontas raised her brows, unsure if the memory had merit. She knew such things as wind and storm demons existed but John Rolfe had had a concussion at the time. "It is possible that it was an illusion," she replied. "A concussed brain can see visions."
John Rolfe laughed. "Yes, that must be it. It's unfortunate, though. I can't be sure which memories are true and which ones were illusory unless I confirm them with you." All of a sudden, the most bizarre image flashed through his mind. "Fish guts?"
"What? Are you… John, did you say 'fish guts'?" Pocahontas inquired, perplexed.
Meeko, Percy, and Flit exchanged looks that expressed concern over the mental health of their human friends. "Did I?" John Rolfe returned, now more bewildered than ever.
Pocahontas looked hesitant. "That's… what I thought I heard."
"Pocahontas, remind me about dinner the night before. What happened? What did we talk about?" John Rolfe continued, trying to get a handle on his memories.
Pocahontas steepled her fingers and rested her bottom lip on the top. "Well, I remember we were talking about all the things we wanted to do once we got home. I wanted to bring you to the harvest festival. I guess dinner ended abruptly after that. The next thing I remember is being in the berthing quarters with Jacqueline and Louise," she disclosed.
John Rolfe thought for a minute, scratching his bristly chin. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh, oh yes! I remember. You talked about all the costumes and dances your people do around the bonfire and the story-telling and the fun and games and foot races. And the feast!"
"Yes, exactly!" Then her face fell. "I guess this year we won't make it after all."
John Rolfe frowned in sympathy for Pocahontas. He resolved to look on the bright side. "I know you'd rather be with your family but I also think it's been fun celebrating with Siwili and his tribe. They've been having a great harvest here too, don't you think?"
Pocahontas smiled and nodded. "True, it has been fun. I have enjoyed watching the unique dances they do here but the thing is—I don't know any of them. If I was at the Powhatan harvest festival, I would be a dancer myself and not just a spectator. There is just no comparison between watching and participating. The latter is way better."
John Rolfe smiled and leaned down to pat her on the shoulder. "There will always be next year for that but Siwili's culture is something we'll only get to experience this once."
"You're right! I might as well enjoy it," Pocahontas laughed. "Anyway, back to the topic. You were trying to remember what happened after dinner on the ship, I believe."
"Oh yes, that!" John Rolfe declared. He scratched his head, pacing. "Okay, so we were talking about the Powhatan harvest festival and then…" he continued slowly, "I think it was Lorraine who got my attention next. She wanted to tell me about her little garden back in St. Augustine and what kinds of plants she grew. But Lorraine was interrupted when Charlotte called me. She was frantic since she wanted to show me something…" After a brief moment of silence, Rolfe's eyes snapped open in realization. He gasped loudly and cried at the top of his lungs, "THE FISH GUTS! That's it!"
Pocahontas, Meeko, Percy, and Flit were bowled over by John Rolfe's loud exclamation. Pocahontas pushed herself back up from the ground, the look on her face both concerned and cross. "John, are you crazy?! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What's all this about fish guts?" she admonished, holding a hand over her chest to still her pounding heart.
"There were fish guts, Pocahontas! Fish guts on my bed! That's what Charlotte wanted to show me. Sakes alive, I remember everything now! It was Nicole Lorrise St. Germaine. She tried to frame you for witchcraft, love!" John Rolfe hollered. A look of bitter anger overtook the Englishman's countenance. "That, that, that little she-demon!"
Pocahontas's jaw dropped. "Witchcraft? What is that?"
John Rolfe gave her a serious look. "It's a crime punishable by death under English law. To be brief, it's a series of methods by which some people consort with the devil."
Pocahontas knitted her brows. "I would never consort with demons or devils!"
John Rolfe slapped a hand to his forehead and dragged it down the length of his face. "I know that, love! That's why I didn't fall for Nicole's stupid little ploy," he expressed.
Pocahontas's eyes brimmed with tears. "I never understood why she hated me so much. I had sensed her hostility but I never could've predicted she would push me overboard." Though Pocahontas recalled Nicole's interest in John Rolfe, she never imagined the girl would attempt murder over a petty love rivalry. "I almost thought I was delusional."
"Well, your instincts were correct. That little no-gooder! She tried to convince me that you had me under a love spell. The girl said such distasteful and insulting lies about you. She tried to get me to…" He paused suddenly, sick to his stomach. "Lord, I wish I hadn't remembered that," he blurted in a much deeper tone, clapping a hand over his mouth.
Pocahontas blinked. "Remembered what?"
John Rolfe shook his head, still holding his hand over his mouth. He dropped it and gazed back at her with a serious expression. "You don't want to know, trust me on this," he told her. "The point is, she did everything that she possibly could to come between us."
Pocahontas frowned. It was true, the suspicions she had had all along that she had written off as paranoia. She had to learn more. "Well, what then? What about the concussion? Do you remember what happened? Did she attack you or was it an accident?"
"That part's a blur. I was so mad, I was sorely tempted to strike her down. I remember I harshly rebuked her and told her to leave. Naturally, she started to cry like a naughty child who'd been caught stealing bonbons," John Rolfe sneered. "And then…"
"And then what?" Pocahontas urged.
John Rolfe ran a hand through his moist hair, sighing. "She refused to leave. So I decided to leave instead before I lost control and put my hands around her throat. I pushed past her and… I don't remember anything else. I suppose she could've… but no. I mean, she was a small female. She didn't look very strong. I can't imagine that it was she who…"
"John."
John Rolfe turned and glanced down at Pocahontas. "What?"
"Do you remember anything from the morning after that when you were concussed?" the Powhatan princess asked. "Louise, Madeleine, and I took you back to your room. Nicole must've cleaned up the fish guts because I don't recall seeing any. We put you on your bed and inspected your head. It wasn't just a bruise that you had, John. Maddie found a shard of green glass embedded in your scalp," Pocahontas revealed.
John Rolfe jumped back. "Green glass? You mean like from a wine bottle?"
Pocahontas nodded. "That's the only place I recall seeing green glass aboard the ship. It's not like there were any stained glass windows on the Blood Draw," she pointed out. John Rolfe appeared to zone out as another memory flashed through his mind. "What?!"
"There was a bottle. I had left an empty one on my desk," he revealed.
The blank look on Pocahontas's face soon turned to one of violent rage. "So she really did it? She hit you on the head with a glass bottle? She could've killed you!"
With his face completely forlorn, John Rolfe threw his hands up in the air in resignation. "That's it, Pocahontas. It's official. My dignity is gone. I'm never getting it back. I've been beaten up by a girl," he announced, exhaling quickly. Suddenly, he stomped his foot. "Not even a woman, Pocahontas! A girl! When we recount this story to your tribe—or to anyone for that matter—we are leaving this part out!" he firmly decreed.
"John," Pocahontas protested, "there's no shame in what happened to you. You aren't invincible. Something like that could happen to any man, even a warrior. She snuck up on you and it was a very cowardly thing that she did! She put all of our lives in danger."
John Rolfe avoided her gaze and rubbed his forehead, staring into space. The Englishman made an angry utterance and spun around, pacing about ten feet away. He plopped down in the grass, facing the lovely meadow. Then he buried his head in his hands and fell stark silent. Pocahontas bit her bottom lip. Bees buzzed and a soft breeze rattled some nearby green foliage. Finally, she gathered the courage to approach him in such a state. She stood up with her crutch and limped over to him, sitting down softly by his side. The Powhatan princess was about to say something comforting but the diplomat suddenly looked up and blurted, "I was responsible for those girls, Pocahontas! They trusted me. God only knows what's become of them because I was too incompetent to watch my back around a spoilt child!" He was not crying but the anguish in his voice was visibly immense.
Meeko, Percy, and Flit exchanged woeful looks. Pocahontas put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him into an embrace, fearful that he might resist because he was so angry at himself. She was pleasantly surprised when he returned the affection instead. "John?"
There was a pause. "But," John Rolfe began more gently, "I refuse to be selfish enough to let a dreadful mistake ruin things for you and I. You're still my top priority." They turned toward each other and pressed their lips together. Rolfe hopped up and scooped Pocahontas off the ground. He brought them to the picnic blanket and sat down with her, draping an arm over her shoulder. "What now then? Have we finished lunch already?"
Pocahontas laughed, investigating the basket which was now bereft of food. "Well, if we didn't, Meeko sure finished it for us," she disclosed, pointing to the bloated raccoon. Meeko grinned self-consciously, hiccuped, and rubbed his belly. "Lie down and let your hair to dry out, John. I'll work on sewing your clothes," she offered, nodding to his dried garments. She fished her needle and thread out from inside the basket.
"Well, alright, Pocahontas but don't let me fall asleep," John Rolfe prompted, rising to retrieve his clothes from the boulder. He handed them to Pocahontas and plopped down again, stretching out on the sun-warmed blanket. It was bliss. "Mm, yes, this is entirely too comfortable," he remarked, kicking off his boots to let them dry out on the inside.
Pocahontas chuckled. "And what's wrong with taking a nap while you're sunbathing?"
"One shouldn't sleep during the day. It's lazy," he retorted, only half-serious.
"Oh, hush," Pocahontas returned as she sewed up a tear on the breast of John Rolfe's shirt. She worked quickly because his outfit needed a lot of mending overall. "Nothing wrong with being lazy once in a while, especially if you're recovering from head trauma."
John Rolfe raised a brow without opening his eyes. "Is that so?"
"Yes, that's so," Pocahontas countered without so much as slowing down her work.
John Rolfe yawned. "You know, this reminds me of the summer picnics I used to take with Sarah when she was alive. We would find a sunny spot in a meadow, eat lunch, and then laze around reading poetry or stories to each other. Or sometimes I would play the miniature harp and she would sing. She had a lovely voice," he languorously expressed, rolling on his side to face Pocahontas. He propped his head on his hand, entering a reminiscent state for a moment. Then he frowned. "I stopped practicing after she died," he confessed, rolling onto his back again and staring up at the clear sky.
"Poetry?"
John Rolfe smiled. "Yes. Shakespeare was her favorite," he conveyed, pushing himself into a sitting position. "As a matter of fact, I've got one of his works memorized that describes exactly how I feel about you," he said, lightly tapping Pocahontas's nose.
Pocahontas giggled. "Oh really? What's that?"
"Sonnet 18. Would you like to hear it?" John Rolfe inquired.
Pocahontas nodded.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in the eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."
Pocahontas beamed at him fondly. "That was beautiful."
"It means I'll always love you no matter how you change or age. You are my eternal summer," John Rolfe explained, gently pulling one of her hands away from her sewing so he could embellish the back of it with a kiss. He held her wrist lightly in one hand and intertwined their fingers with the other. "While we first met in winter, I fell in love with you in the summer. Spring love is fleeting, but summer love is forever."
Pocahontas's heart beat faster. She dropped her sewing and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. All she wanted to do was lie down beside him with her head on his chest and relax but she had to finish mending his clothes first.
John Rolfe gradually fell back again as she released him, stretching out. "Always and forever," he murmured as he let his eyelids flutter closed in the sunshine. Catching sight of his bare feet on the blanket, Pocahontas scooted toward them. Out of pure curiosity, she poked him on the bottom of his left sole. His whole body jolted and he peered up at her. His startlement, in turn, startled Pocahontas and she jumped as well. "Hey!"
"What?"
"You poked me!" he charged.
Pocahontas grinned. "So?"
John Rolfe narrowed his eyes at Pocahontas. "Do it again and I shall be forced to avenge myself," he warned. She narrowed her eyes too, feeling challenged, and poked him again. "I shall not take this insult lying down!" he declared, scrambling up from the blanket. He lunged for her bare feet, grazing the soles with his fingernails. The Englishman was surprised to discover that the bottoms of her feet felt more like hard leather than actual human skin. Pocahontas showed no reaction, not even a tiny flinch. John Rolfe frowned and peered up at her. She stared blankly back at him. "Nothing is it then?"
"I'm not sure what you're trying to do," Pocahontas lied, though she was too amused to maintain a vacant expression for long. One edge of her lips gradually curled upward.
John Rolfe eyed her carefully. "The smirk on your face tells me otherwise. How about this," he charged, seizing her ribs. Her throat erupted in a high-pitched squeal as she shoved his hands away. "I knew it!" Rolfe exclaimed, triumphantly withdrawing. "Now if you want no more of that, there will be no more poking." Turning around, he lay back down with his feet away from Pocahontas and his head and chest by her. He peered up at her as she got back to sewing, a subtle smile on her lips. "You look pretty like this."
Her smile widened but she maintained her attention on her work. John Rolfe fell into a light sleep. It took an hour to mend his clothes. "John," she said, rousing him, "I'm finished and you're starting to get a little too much sun again. Come on, let's go."
…
OCTOBER 16, 1613
Four days passed and Pocahontas no longer required a crutch. Still healing, she walked with only the subtlest limp. Running was still a challenge. John Rolfe had spent some time that morning watching Siwili work on a dugout canoe with no tools other than fire and a medium-sized clamshell. Once recovered from his debilitating injury, Rolfe had begun to gain an intense interest in the skills possessed by the local warriors that did not relate to actual warfare. After an observation period, Rolfe wanted to help Siwili with the endeavor. He was furnished with his own clamshell and they spent half the day carving out a new boat for the village. Rolfe was surprised how well the method worked.
Once Siwili retired to other activities, John Rolfe realized he had not seen Pocahontas since breakfast. He went in search of her and, to his great surprise, found her at the shooting range by the edge of the forest on the far side of the village. She was practicing her aim with a bow and arrow. Meeko, Percy, and Flit were her only spectators. Having yet to see her shooting skills, he walked up behind her quietly so as not to distract her as she took aim. The Englishman watched as she fired a shot right into the center of her tree-mounted target. "Wow! You're really good, love. How did you learn to use a weapon anyway? I've never seen any of the ladies around here trying to wield one."
Pocahontas glanced over her shoulder. "Hi, John," she said nonchalantly, nocking another arrow from the quiver on her back. "My father taught me. However, I do not use the bow as a weapon. I don't even normally hunt with it. For me, it is just a fun sport."
"Oh? Where did you get the bow?" John Rolfe inquired, leaning against a tree trunk.
"I got one of the shorter warriors to lend me his, Etu."
John Rolfe scratched his fuzzy chin. "Have you got one of your own at home?"
"Yes, I keep it under my bed," Pocahontas divulged. She almost fired again but stopped when a thought occurred to her. "John, there's something I want to talk to you about," she spoke, turning toward him as she lowered her archery equipment to the grassy ground.
John Rolfe came over and interlaced the fingers of both his hands with hers. "Yes?"
Pocahontas hesitated as if the matter had been weighing heavily on her mind. She cleared her throat and glanced at his chest. "I've been thinking, John. I feel that we should stay with these people for the winter. We can head home in the spring when it's nice and warm again. Why risk getting lost and then starving and freezing to death? I mean, it's just… as much as I want to be home right now, I think we should consider our options."
John Rolfe's eyes popped open. Travel plans were the very last thing that he had expected her to bring up. If he was completely honest with himself, he had to admit that he had not thought about the future even once over the past week and a half. He had been too busy recovering from his concussion and then he had gotten so absorbed into the local culture. "I understand your reasoning, Pocahontas. My only concern really is about the mental wellbeing of your friends and family, particularly your father. They must be worried sick over what's become of you by now. Our ship was expected back ages ago!"
"I know," Pocahontas conceded. "But we're not doing anyone any favors if we end up dead from poor choices. Look around us, John. The leaves are changing and falling from the trees. We're well into autumn and it has gotten colder. We don't even have a map!"
John Rolfe held up a finger with a sly look. "Not to worry, love. I spent so much time looking at that land map prior to the storm, I've got it memorized by now. But I see your point," he expressed. "Ultimately, I think we should take a couple days to think about…"
Suddenly, a familiar voice shouted to them, ending the discussion. "Djahn! Pocahontas! Ayu hok teton no ra doté!" Siwili called to them. He appeared atop the hill with a look of barely contained excitement, beckoning them with a full arm motion.
John Rolfe and Pocahontas exchanged stunned expressions with each other and quickly followed. Meeko and Percy, likewise, ran after their human friends and Flit buzzed along behind them. When Pocahontas and Rolfe reached Siwili, he took them each by the hand and pulled them along. He led them in the direction of the remedial hut, taking a shortcut by pushing through some lovely autumn-red bushes. As they emerged on the other side, Pocahontas, Rolfe, Meeko, Percy, and Flit uttered loud gasps all in unison.
Nicole Lorrise St. Germaine stood before them, supported by a warrior on one side and a woman on the other. She was weak and filthy, covered with scratches. Her clothes were rags and her long blonde hair was a complete rat's nest. She had to weigh at least twenty pounds less than when they had last seen her weeks ago, her once-lovely features now frightfully gaunt. Meanwhile, Siwili pointed excitedly toward the French girl as if to say, 'Look, John! We found another person who looks like you!' When Nicole caught sight of them, shock overwhelmed her senses. "J-John?" she croaked in a hoarse voice.
The moment that Nicole uttered his name, John Rolfe instantly overcame his surprise. His agape countenance quickly transitioned into one of acute rage. His brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and his face reddened. "You," he hissed.