"Alsoomse and Wanchese" Scenes

Chapter 20, Pages 196-197

The drums had begun before three of Tessicqueo’s braves escorted Wanchese out of Mattosh’s longhouse. A large crowd of villagers had formed a large semi-circle in the assembly area in front of Tessicqueo’s residence. Dark clouds were scurrying across the morning sky, wind rippling longhouse entrance flaps and edges of aprons and cloaks. A shrill cry rose from the people when Wanchese appeared inside the semi-circle. He saw women amongst them, many clutching knives. He imagined them cutting off his fingers, toes, ears, genitalia after Megedagik had killed him. He saw his body being burned in a great fire.

Tessicqueo was seated on a sculptured log, his elite men standing adjacent to him. Commoners dared not obstruct his vision. Tessicqueo would have his spectacle. Subjected to frequent Mandoag raids, Tessicqueo’s braves had been trained to be vicious. Fairness accorded strangers was prohibited. Wanchese thought that Pomeiooc was becoming such a village.

Upon Tessicqueo’s signal the middle of the semi-circle of watchers opened. Ten to twelve warriors danced within. They were brandishing invisible arrows, spears, and clubs. Their warbling cries were shrill. They weaved about him, their footfalls in rhythm to the beating of drums. They swooped in at him thrusting their “weapons.” He would have enjoyed sending one of them sprawling. Outwardly, he appeared stoic. Save your energy for Megedagik. Be calm. He had been taught during his manhood training that a warrior must control his muscles so as to receive better his opponent’s blows, so as not to be stiff but be quick in reflex.

He would need to be very quick. And smart.

He did know how to fight.

The middle of the semi-circle opened; the warriors exited. Watchers near the opening cheered. One large figure entered. Megedagik.

He extended his arms, turned his head left and right to the cheering crowd. Red lines marked his forehead, cheeks, and the shaved sides of his head. Two parallel lines, one red and the other black, divided horizontally his muscular body. Turning toward Wanchese, he leaped high and forward. He landed -- feet widely separated – ten feet away in a menacing crouch. Wanchese said: “You look pretty.”

Megedagik roared. His shoulders hunched, his arms extended like the legs of a crab, bent at the waist, he stepped forward.

The crowd was instantly silent.

Up on the balls of his feet, chest almost parallel to the ground, taking swift, short steps, Wanchese moved to Megedagik’s left. Keep yourself loose, he told himself. Wait for his attack.

Megedagik went for Wanchese’s neck. Wanchese struck the Nansemond warrior’s left hand away with his right. With his other hand Megedagik grabbed Wanchese’s left wrist. Wanchese struck Megedagik’s left eye with the heel of his right fist.

Megedagik stepped back. They stared at each other.

Megedagik closed. Wanchese drove his right knee into Megedagik’s lower left leg. Megedagik closed his arms around Wanchese’s upper body, straightened him, locked his hands, squeezed.