Alsoomse and Wanchese -- Chapter 10

Algonquian Words

Cattapeak: spring

Cohattayough: summer

Kwiocosuk: shaman, priest

Mamanatowick: ruler of several villages

Montoac: a mysterious, immediate, and pervasive power beyond and greater than that of humans

Nepinough: earring of the corn season

Popanow: winter

Taquitock: the harvest and the falling of the leaves season

Wassador: copper

Weroance: chief of a village

Weroansqua: female chief of a village or dominant wife of the

village’s weroance

Windigo: cannibal monster (plural: Windigoag)

Characters Mentioned

* historically identified person

Allawa (Pea) – 15, Granganimeo’s daughter and Hurit’s step-daughter

Alsoomse (Independent) – 17, protagonist

Anakausen (Worker) – 21, paddler of Alsoomse’s canoe to Croatoan

* Andacon (Evergreens) – 25, Wingina’s war chief

Hurit (Beautiful) – 25, weroansqua. Granganimeo’s second wife

Keme (Thunder) – 25, warrior and friend of Wanchese

Kitchi (Brave) – Alsoomse and Wanchese’s dead brother, 11 at ime of death, 1580

Machk (Bear) – 17, Nuna’s brother, friend of Wanchese

Makkapitew (He Has Large Teeth) – 22, paddler of Alsoomse’s canoe to Croatoan

* Menatonon – 55, mamanatowick of Choanoac

Nootau (Fire) – 20, Sooleawa’s son and Alsoomse and Wanchese’s cousin

Nuna (Land) – 16, Alsoomse’ friend across the lane

Nuttah (My Heart) – 17, flirtatious enemy of Alsoomse

* Okisko – 29, Weapemeoc’s Weroance

* Osacan- 26, elite member of Wingina’s council

* Piemacum (He Who Churns Up the Water) – 25 Pomeiooc’s weroance

Rakiock (Cypress Tree) – 25, Menatonon’s war chief

Samoset (He Walks Too Much) – 19, womanizer, friend of Askook

* Skiko – 13, Menatonon’s son

Sokanon (Rain) – 18, Sooleawa’s daughter and Alsoomse and Wanchese’s cousin

Sokw ((Sour) – 16, enemy of Alsoomse

* Taraquine – 19, warrior and friend of Wanchese

Tihkoosue (Short) – 13, Granganimeo’s son and Hurit’s step-son

Wabin (East Wind) – 13, friend of Skiko of Choanoac

Commentary

This is a transition chapter. Alsoomse and Wanchese are about to experience character-altering events that will make them more exemplary human beings. What those events are and how the two young Algonquians change are revealed in the thirty remaining chapters of the novel.

 

Chapter 10

The two canoes continued in tandem, forty yards apart, close to the skinny marshland and endless dunes that warded off the Great Waters. Alsoomse sat in the second canoe behind her cousin Sokanon. The sour-faced Sokw, friend of Hurit’s step-daughter Allawa, sat in front of Sokanon. In front of the three girls labored three men, two of them married: the muscular Anakausen and the jovial Makkapitew. Lean-bodied Taraquine, not quite Wanchese’s age, drew most of the three girls’ attention.

It pleased Alsoomse to watch the ripple of upper arm, shoulder, and back muscles working nearly in concert. She had hoped that at Croatoan -- Kiwasa being uncharacteristically generous -- she might attract a vigorous, virile male like Nuna’s brother, Machk.

Machk was in Hurit’s canoe, the lead canoe, along with obnoxious Samoset, who was two turning-of-the-leaves older than Alsoomse, and Keme, who had a wife and child and a thunderous temper. Seated behind Machk was Allawa, who was but 15, and flirtatious Nuttah, who was close to Alsoomse’s age. Machk, accustomed to female enticement, would likely not be affected – Alsoomse thought -- by either girl’s attempt of beguilement.

Realistically viewed, she knew that her chances of attracting a desirable Croatoan male were poor. Yet she was grateful. Leaving Roanoke, she was escaping her daily tedium. She would be seeing new places, new people. Who could say where that might lead?!

She knew very well where this adventure would lead! Do not fool yourself, she chastised. Better for her not to think about men, her prospects, her competition, marriage! She imagined fleetingly Wanchese making love to a sleek, smooth Choanoac girl and the following morning not giving the girl a word or glance! Wanchese was too old not to have a wife! What was wrong with him -- excluding the other things she scolded him about?!

She needed distractions.

Not long after passing the swampy end of Roanoke Island they had been entertained by three brown pelicans, swooping one after another over one of the deeper holes of the inner expansive waters. Fish. Menhaden. Lots of them. Where could they be? the pelicans had to have been thinking -- their heads not held back on their shoulders, their bills not resting on their folded necks as in normal flight. The lead pelican had dropped suddenly, each wing twice bent, white belly exposed, legs folded, long bill far advanced. The splash. The disappearance of tail feathers. Nothing, except expanding circles of water. The second pelican had then dropped. Its circles had quickly overridden the smoothing circles of the first. The third pelican had winged upward, glided, waited. The first pelican had then emerged, fish swallowed, water leaking out of its throat pouch. Seconds later the second pelican had surfaced. More release of water. Wings beating vigorously, they had ascended. Heads back, flying toward Croatoan, they had too quickly disappeared.

Wanchese would have enjoyed the spectacle. She was certain he had seen similar spectacles -- bird lover that he was -- imaging himself taking flight over flashing water! He knew all their names. He had probably taught Tihkoosue most of them.

It occurred to her that Wanchese’s mentoring of Tihkoosue might explain why Hurit had tolerated her!

She owed her brother consideration.

2

As the two canoes from Roanoke Island headed south toward Croatoan, a large canoe carrying seven men and a boy advanced up the narrowing Chowan River toward Ramushouuoq, the village situated on a high bank that overlooked the Meherrin River a mile from where it joined the Chowan. Ramushouuoq was Menatonon’s most northerly village, a frontier settlement vulnerable to Iroquois tribes -- the Nottoway, the Meherrin, and the Tuscarora, all of whom Wingina’s people called Mandoag. Vicious warriors they were, but they traded. Economic exchange with the neighboring Choanoac, the most powerful Algonquian federation of the Carolina floodplain, was considered essential. Ramushouuoq’s existence, on the fringe of Mandoag territory, was, for the most part, tolerated.

Menatonon had authorized Andacon to attempt to acquire at Ramushouuoq what Wingina needed most: heavy stone to be made into hammering and chopping tools, quartz to be chiseled into cutting utensils, and puccoon roots for the making of red dye. The Pomeiooc expedition to Choanoac three weeks earlier had depleted substantially Menatonon’s supply of stone, quartz, and puccoon -- trade items in previous years that he had reserved for Wingina’s uncle and then Wingina.

Nearing the Meherrin River, Wanchese recalled the argument that Menatonon and his youngest son, Skiko, had had before the canoe’s departure.

“I want to see my friend Wabin!” Skiko had insisted. He had attached himself, not surprisingly, to Osacan, whose enjoyment of boys had resulted in many two generation friendships, including his friendship with Wanchese. “I want to show Wabin what Osacan taught me!” During the evening’s entertainment Osacan had demonstrated how he could aim an arrow between his legs, send it off, and hit his target.

Exhibiting lively hands, active feet, the boy had captivated every adult. Even Andacon had been coaxed to smile. Kitchi had not had that gift. Kitchi’s spells of willfulness and moods of temper had alternated with periods of generosity and spontaneous merriment. Seeing Skiko and Osacan happy together, Wanchese had felt renewed pain.

Standing beside Nootau, Wanchese had looked down the slope of the hill toward the Choanoac canoe while Skiko and Menatonon had quarreled. He, Nootau, Andacon, and Osacan had removed most of their trading goods from their own canoe before the full sun had risen. All the while Skiko had jabbered. Nootau had told Wanchese while they had worked that he wished to stay in the village, not go to Ramushouuoq. Wanchese had seen the girl seated across the eating circle watching Nootau, had then observed Nootau watching her before he, Nootau, Osacan, and Andacon had descended the hill. She was attractive, young, maybe a cattapeuk younger than Alsoomse.

He had looked for but not seen Waboose.

“I will permit you to go,” Menatonon had capitulated, “if you promise to obey Rakiock’s commands.”

Skiko had hopped twice, had smiled broadly.

“Stay next to me at all times!” Rakiock, yet frowning, had declared.

“I will take my bow and arrows!” Skiko had exclaimed, again hopping. “I will show Wabin what Osacan taught me!”

Using two burnished canes, Menatonon moved short distances painfully. Skiko was a human butterfly. Wanchese had marveled at the stark contrast.

After two priests, chanting prayers to Kiwasa, had spread tobacco leaves upon the river’s waters, a Choanoac warrior had pushed the canoe into the languid current. Paddles lifted, three Choanoac braves, Rakiock, Skiko, Andacon, Osacan, and Wanchese had begun their journey up the river.

3

Hurit’s and Alsoomse’s canoes now approached the little islands where cordgrass enclosed dark, sunlit pools. A flock of ring-billed gulls had been following them, hoping to scavenge bits of food dropped into the water. Three bold gulls had hovered close enough for Alsoomse to observe their markings: black ring near the tip of yellow bill, gray back, white head, white neck, white under part, wingtips black with white spots. Alsoomse liked best how their winged shadows flickered on the rippling water.

Esthetically pleased, Alsoomse focused on the purpose of Hurit’s trip: help Woanagusso, Croatoan’s weroansqua, withstand Pomeiooc intimidation. Alsoomse had overheard conversations between Wanchese and his closest friends about Piemacum’s intentions. Why did individual men and tribes of men fight? Pride, obviously. Ambition. The need to dominate, she thought. Between individuals belittlement. Wrongs committed requiring vengeance. She wondered what the women in Pomeiooc thought about Piemacum’s aggressiveness. Did they believe that she and the women of Roanoke and Dasemunkepeuc were their enemy? Was every village woman obligated to hate her leader’s enemies?

Piemacum had left Wingina two courses of action: capitulate, fight.

In one of the marsh pools Alsoomse spied a flash of white. Black bill, black eyes, white back. Curved, graceful white neck. A female tundra swan preening herself!

Where was her life-long mate? It was uncommon to see a solitary swan. Dead? “He will return to you,” she whispered, knowing that swans had few predators, knowing that swans lived a calm existence. Unlike Croatoan’s Woanagusso. Who had become weroansqua upon the death of her last surviving brother. Who might not be willful enough to withstand Piemacum’s resolve.

4

All the way up the river, swamp vegetation defined the right bank. Here is where the river flooded during periods of substantial rain. It was difficult to determine where solid land started. Wanchese saw swamp tupelo and, less conspicuously, bald cypress, and, occasionally, sweet gum and red maple. Spanish moss dangled from the farthest removed cypress. He saw several squirrels active on the limbs, feeding on seeds embedded in the scales of brownish-purple cones. A cone dropped into the reddish water, startling a squirrel perched on the tree’s knees. Watching, Skiko laughed.

Out of nowhere yellow-rumped warblers flew to the low branches of four tupelo where dark purple, pale-dotted fruit waited. Two more flitted over exposed water, seeking insects. Black bills; white chins; white bellies; grey, black, and white-streaked feathers; a large splotch of yellow at the base of tail feathers. Wanchese enjoyed their presence. Tyew-tyew-tyew-tyew, tew-tew-tew.

Farther north, swamp land broadened along the left bank. A low ridge line had bordered it much of the way. Now it seemed the river, narrowing but still sluggish, was defined on both sides by tupelo and cypress. They came, then, to the mouth of the Meherrin, half the size of the Chowan, which continued arrow-straight north north-west. The Meherrin entered from the left at a forty degree angle.

“Expect to feel some current, some resistance,” Rakiock said.

“We are almost there!” Skiko shouted.

“Easy!” Osacan exclaimed. “The windigoag will hear you!”

Skiko twisted his body, read Osacan’s face, recognized his new friend’s purpose. “Windigoag are only in stories.”

They turned into the river’s easy flow.

Wanchese could see ahead an arrowhead-shaped elevation pointed at the river’s right bank. Different trees – sweetbay, Carolina ash, longleaf pine, poison sumac -- covered much of the rise.

“Wabin!” Skiko shouted.

Nobody at the vegetation-removed landing was there to receive them. As the bow of the canoe made contact, Skiko, holding tightly his bow with his right hand and his quiver of arrows with his left, leaped out. Two shallow splashes and, suddenly, he was five feet up the bare path before Rakiock, his eyes directed momentarily at a submerged log close to canoe’s left side, yelled: “Stop!”

Skiko did not.

He disappeared beyond sweetbay and ash.

Every brave rapidly disembarked, Wanchese barking his right shin on the canoe’s top left edge. Rakiock led the pursuit; Osacan followed; after him hurried the three Choanoac braves, Andacon, and Wanchese. They heard a yelp, then a cry of fright.

Arrows descended. Several struck leaves and two or three branches. One pierced Rakiock’s left thigh.

Alsoomse and Wanchese -- Chapter 9, Section 2

Characters Mentioned

* historically identified person

*Carleill, Christopher – 33, step-son of Francis Walsingham

*Cecil, William, Baron Burghley – 53, principal advisor of Queen Elizabeth

*Drake, Sir Francis – 43, sea captain, explorer, and privateer

*Gilbert, Humphrey – colonizer who died at sea, 44 at time of death. Walter Raleigh’s half- brother

*Francis, Duke of Anjou – 28, heir to the French throne

Holbein, Hans – (1497-1543), painter of a mural created in 1537 depicting Henry VII and his son Henry VIII and their respective wives

*Howard, Thomas – Duke of Norfolk, 34 at time of execution, 1572

*Mendoza, Bernardino de –43, Spanish ambassador sent to London in 1578

*Philip II, King of Spain – 56, Queen Elizabeth’s fiercest European enemy

*Somerville, John – would be assassin of Queen Elizabeth, hanged himself in prison in 1583 at the age of 23

*Stuart, Mary – 41, former queen of Scotland, cousin of Queen Elizabeth

*Throckmorton, Francis – 29, English conspirator to overthrow Queen Elizabeth

*Walsingham, Francis – 52, Queen Elizabeth’s ambitious principal secretary

Commentary

This section provides necessary historical context regarding Queen Elizabeth’s peril owing to planned assassination to be effected by Catholic enemies, domestic and foreign. It highlights also the tension between the Queen and Francis Walsingham regarding who should receive a patent to manage and benefit from an expedition to North American to found a colony from which privateers would attack Spanish treasure ships.

Section 2

As was her custom, Elizabeth had taken her dinner in her privy chamber, the many dishes arriving punctually at noon. Dressed in a simple, loose-fitting black gown edged with ermine, to reduce the pain of chewing she had selected again a thick soup containing bits of chicken to be washed down by wine mingled with three parts water. A sweet cake had concluded the sparse meal.

Every one of the twenty dishes that had been offered her had been tasted by her presence chamber guards. Courtiers and Privy Council advisors in that chamber and ladies in waiting, seated on the privy chamber floor – the farthingale of their gowns making sitting on chairs difficult – had consumed what she had rejected.

The ceremonial serving, the pomposity of it, was remarkably silly. She acknowledged it; but she would not have it otherwise, for it bespoke allegiance to and reverence for the royal monarch. It was for the protection of her subjects and the Church of England that she served, and sacrificed. Her people’s affection and loyalty were her due.

Each day, brandishing a ceremonial rod, to the sound of trumpets and kettle drums, her gentleman led into the presence chamber many servants carrying tablecloth, eating utensils, drinking glasses, and twenty or more choices of cuisine. Gentlemen guards stood tall about the table while ladies in waiting laid out the cloth and placed the dishes. Thenceforth, a maid of honor dressed in white silk entered followed closely by a lady in waiting carrying a tasting fork, the lady immediately prostrating herself three times before Elizabeth’s empty chair. The lady then gave each guard a taste of every dish after which Elizabeth’s ladies carried the dishes into the privy chamber for Elizabeth’s selection.

Guarded in her residence day and night, never left alone, Elizabeth could not be assassinated directly. Food tasting prevented indirect assassination.

There had been ample cause for concern. For her entire reign she had had to confront the ramifications of her renunciation of Catholicism. Only by threatening to marry the heir to the French throne had she been able to forestall Philip of Spain from attempting to depose her. This tactic had not stopped Catholics in England and Europe from scheming to remove her and reestablish Catholic rule in the person of Mary Stuart, Elizabeth’s cousin, former queen consort of France, former Queen of Scotland, forced to abdicate her Scottish throne by Protestant Scottish lords. The past fifteen years per Elizabeth’s orders, Mary had been confined at Sheffield Castle closely watched by Sir Francis Walsingham’s many spies.

In 1571 a rebellion in northern England fomented by Catholic earls had convinced Elizabeth that Mary was indeed a threat. That same year Elizabeth’s chief councilors, Lord Burghley and Walsingham, had discovered the Ridolfi plot. Spanish troops, assisted by Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, whose intention was to become Mary Stuart’s royal consort, were to depose Elizabeth and reestablish Catholicism. The plot foiled and Norfolk executed, to achieve a defense treaty with France to forestall Spanish aggression, Elizabeth had initiated negotiations to marry the immediate heir to the French throne, and then, after he, Henry had become King, his brother and heir, Francis, the Duke of Anjou. Entertaining the prospect of marriage, Anjou, despite being Catholic, seeking military glory, had declared himself champion of the Huguenot Dutch. Anjou’s subsequent actions in the Netherlands had revealed his avarice and incompetence. Most of Elizabeth’s advisors and the general public had opposed the proposed marriage. Recognizing finally that her marriage could only be to her people, Elizabeth had ended the charade. The possibility of an alliance between England and France dashed, only King Philip’s desire to conquer the Netherlands first had kept him from invading England.

Two months ago Elizabeth had celebrated her fiftieth birthday. She had been queen for nearly twenty-five years. A month ago an insane young Catholic, John Somerville of Warwickshire, enflamed by Jesuit pamphlets, had bragged in public that he would shoot her with a pistol and see her head on a pole. Quickly arrested, he awaited execution. Somerville had been but one example of the rabid hatred radical English Catholics possessed. Walsingham apprised her almost daily of the peril and Mary’s desire to replace her, revealed in letters she had written to Catholics abroad. Elizabeth had arisen late this morning hoping to thrust aside temporarily her many burdens. Having finished her dinner, she had set about translating another section of Cicero. Afterward, because she had stayed up into the early morning hours writing correspondence, she had hoped to reserve one or two hours to nap.

That would not be.

The sound of her gentlemen usher’s entrance startled her.

“Your majesty. I present for your acceptance the presence of your chief secretary, Sir Francis Walsingham.”

What is it this time? she thought. Francis Throckmorton, probably. The latest insane plotter. “Yes, yes, admit him,” she responded. She closed the opened two pages of Cicero’s writing on her book mark.

“Your Highness.” Walsingham’s double-layered white ruff separated starkly his dark facial skin, beard, and mustache and his full length, midnight-black mantle. She rose. Three feet away from her he knelt, bowed his head.

“Rise.” She was in a mood to box his ears, again. Or throw her slipper. She was not wearing any! Her “Moor,” dark as ever, was about to press upon her another action she would not want to take. “What do you have that cannot wait?”

“Throckmorton.” His right knee yet on the thick carpet, he gazed up at her.

“I had thought so. Proceed!”

“Since I last spoke, we have searched his London house. Infamous pamphlets, list of papist lords and harbors where Spanish soldiers could safely be disembarked. The Spanish ambassador is mentioned. We have racked young Throckmorton. He has given up nothing. A second, more severe session will surely break his resolve.”

“You want my authorization.”

“I do. It is imperative. I believe that we will have sufficient evidence of the Scottish whore’s complicity to convince you, finally, that she must be tried and executed.”

His adamancy, conveyed by facial expression, choice of words, and intonation, vexed her. “Tread lightly, sir, how you describe monarchs ordained by God. You know well my thoughts about that!”

His left hand made a supplicating gesture.

“Speak cautiously, least I acquaint your head with the heft of this book. Cicero I will have you know!”

“I seek at this time only your authorization.”

She looked at him. Thin, narrow face; long nose; receding black hairline; furrowed forehead; eyes encircled by … what? Responsibility? Fatigue? Ambition? He served her well. Partly because he spoke his mind. Because he was a steadfast Protestant. Because he hated Spain. Because his intelligence exceeded, perhaps, her own and he followed orders he opposed. Such as attempting to negotiate a marriage agreement between her and Anjou.

She released a long breath. She gazed briefly at Holbein’s wall mural of her parents and grandparents, particularly of her father, legs wide apart, confrontationally defiant.

God’s blood, she was her father’s daughter! “You have my authorization, as you have had these past several years my approval of the plundering of Spanish treasure ships. Drake has done more to enrage Philip than … you say that Mendoza is implicated?!”

“The Spanish ambassador’s name is mentioned.”

“See to it that Throckmorton specifically implicates him! I will savor Mendoza’s response!”

“I shall.”

The interview, for her, had concluded. He tarried.

“God’s love, rise!” It occurred to her that he had more to say. “Yes?”

He rose, with reluctance towered over her.

“A matter of collateral urgency.” His dark eyes fastened on hers.

“How so?”

“The expedition to the New World. We must found a colony north of Florida but south of where Gilbert had planned to colonize so as to seize in the Caribbean and south of the Azores shipments of Spanish gold! And discover and mine on the new continent comparable riches!”

“We have spoken about this. I have told you the treasury lacks the funds to finance this venture! You must show me a plan that involves private investment! I wait to see such a plan!”

“I am close to showing you a plan.”

“You do know that you have competition.”

She saw in his eyes, despite his skill at concealing emotion, a flash of temper.

“You speak for my issuance of a patent, similar to that I gave Gilbert. Authorization to sell vast acreage to wealthy investors.”

“How else am I to raise sufficient capital?”

“Agreed. And who is to hold this patent, and profit grandly from it? Your step- son, Christopher Carleill?”

“He would be the captain.”

“But who would hold the patent? You?”

His eyes did not blink. “Who but I have the connections to make successful such a risky, complicated venture?”

“Again, agreed. I will look at your plan.”

After Walsingham had left, she was not of the mind to translate or nap. Her blood was up. Walsingham wanted his due. He expected it! Early during her reign, advisors had thought they could intimidate her, because she was a woman. There were times when Walsingham tried. She had allowed no man to control her!

She looked again at Holbein’s mural. She looked at her father. She read part of the Latin inscription on the sarcophagus that separated father and son from their wives.

If it pleases you to see the illustrious images of heroes, look on these: no picture ever bore greater. The great debate, competition and great question is whether father or son is the victor. For both, indeed, were supreme.

Like her father she would not be swayed. 

Alsoomse and Wanchese -- Chapter 9, Section 1

Algonquian Words

Cattapeak: spring

Cohattayough: summer

Kwiocosuk: shaman, priest

Mamanatowick: ruler of several villages

Montoac: a mysterious, immediate, and pervasive power beyond and greater than that of humans

Nepinough: earring of the corn season

Popanow: winter

Taquitock: the harvest and the falling of the leaves season

Wassador: copper

Weroance: chief of a village

Weroansqua: female chief of a village or dominant wife of the

village’s weroance

Windigo: cannibal monster (plural: Windigoag)

Characters Mentioned

* historically identified person

Alsoomse (Independent) – 17, protagonist

* Andacon (Evergreens) – 25, Wingina’s war chief

Hurit (Beautiful) – 25, weroansqua. Granganimeo’s second wife

Kitchi ()Brave) – Alsoomse and Wanchese’s dead brother, 11 at ime of death, 1580

Matunaagd (He Who Fights) – Alsoomse and Wanchese’s father, 35 at time of death, 1579

* Menatonon – 55, mamanatowick of Choanoac

Mesickek (Striped Bass) – 35, Ramrushouuog weroance

Nootau (Fire) – 20, Sooleawa’s son and Alsoomse and Wanchese’s cousin

* Okisko – 29, Weapemeoc’s Weroance

* Osacan- 26, elite member of Wingina’s council

* Piemacum (He Who Churns Up the Water) – 25 Pomeiooc’s weroance

Rakiock (Cypress Tree) – 25, Menatonon’s war chief

* Skiko – 13, Menatonon’s son

Sokanon (Rain) – 18, Sooleawa’s daughter and Alsoomse and Wanchese’s cousin

* Tanaquincy – 28, Granganimeo’s chief advisor

Waboose (Baby Rabbit) – 16, Wanchese’s bedmate

* Wanchese (Take Flight off of Water) – 20, protagonist

Wematin (Brother) – dead mamanatowich, brother of Ensenore. 50 at time of death, 1579

Wikimak (Wife) – 22, Menatonon’s newest wife

* Wingina –34 mamanatowich

Map

Section 1

They had taken water at Ricahokene and eaten venison stew from the communal pot. Afterward, Wanchese had walked north of the village to the mouth of the crooked stream. Clear, dark water drifted past two cypresses. Staring at them, Wanchese wondered how the Choanoac people chose their village locations. Fresh water -- a creek close by -- was essential, as was a bit of high ground lengthy enough to grow corn, beans, and squash. Access to where deer and turkey and other sources of meat could be hunted was likewise essential. He gazed at the marsh land across the river. Beyond it was a slightly elevated, eroded plateau covered with swamp trees and several loblolly pines. No exit of creek water there, he concluded. Along the eastern shore, where he stood, the land was not continuously swampy. The river here seemed more defined. Andacon had said that it would narrow as they continued northward.

Wanchese wondered whether living in one of these villages would be better or worse than his present habitation. Could you ever judge accurately anybody’s quality of life without a basis of comparison?

Nootau found him staring into the translucent water.

“I have seen five perch,” Wanchese commented.

Nootau looked at him somewhat lengthily, then nodded.

You will not hear what occupies my mind, Wanchese thought.

#

A light breeze was playing upon Wanchese’s sore right shoulder. Keep at it, he told the shoulder. Andacon would likely be ordering them to paddle harder!

Directly ahead a long, narrow island pointed at them. They labored past its west side. Black water flowed past exposed roots of tupelo and bald cypress. He saw a turtle plop into the water. Long strands of moss hung from leafless limbs. The boy in him, the boy who had had yet a father, would have wanted to investigate this island. He envisioned its turtles, birds, lizards, fish, and snakes. How many young Choanoac boys had come here?

The river angled left. “Not much farther,” Andacon announced. The shoreline to their right was expansive marsh. To their left the marsh land had become intermittent swamp and earthen bank. Farther still they saw a lengthy, low ridge divided, they would discover, by a swamp-lined, twisted creek.

“There, at the top of that ridge, just before the creek. I am certain they see us,” Andacon declared. “Paddle to the mouth of the creek. There is a trail to the top.”

#

Loblolly pine branches and knots of red cedar snapped dissonantly. Menatonon, Rakiock -- the great mamanatowick’s main principal – Andacon, and Osacan talked. Nootau listened. Menatonon’s pipe had reached Osacan. Wanchese watched the fire’s gray smoke spiral through the dark hole in the visitor room’s ceiling.

They had conversed initially outside Menatonon’s longhouse.

“I remember Wematin well,” Menatonon had said to Andacon following formal introductions. “I recall when he succeeded his father as mamanatowick. He was ten cohattayoughs younger than I. We traded. And, yes, I remember his principal man, Matunaagd.” Menatonon’s wizened right arm had gestured feebly. “I am pleased, Wanchese, to meet you, Matunaagd’s son. And you, Nootau. You are Wanchese’s cousin. Was your father and Wanchese’s father brothers? No, his mother and Wanchese’s mother were sisters, Nootau had explained.

Skiko, the mamanatowick’s youngest son, standing between his father and Rakiock, had been full of smiles. Wanchese judged him to be a little older than Kitchi had been the day Kitchi had drowned. Who would become mamanatowick when Menatonon died? Certainly not this boy. Probably Menatonon’s oldest, who, Wanchese guessed, was weroance of Menatonon’s second largest village. Or perhaps Menatonon’s successor would be this Rakiock, bald cypress thick, two changing of the leaves older than Andacon, he estimated.

After their brief outdoor exchange Rakiock had taken them into a small chamber in Menatonon’s longhouse. Young women had bathed them. Afterward, they had been led into a larger chamber where they had enjoyed a feast of black bear meat, venison, striped bass, black crappie, mussels and oysters, silk grass, and acorns. Now they were seated in Menatonon’s visiting room. Seated on a bench across from his guests, the sharing of his pipe concluded, Menatonon spoke.

“My useless limbs vex me. I am very old. Before many seasons, I will be called beyond the mountains toward the disappearance of the sun.”

Wanchese noted the many lines on the mamanatowick’s face: there on his forehead, around his cheekbones, about his mouth and chin. His roached hair -- spiked -- was white and thin. Wisps of hair rode his upper lip and marked the end of his chin. He wore sewed together, elaborately fringed deerskin, which reached from his left shoulder to well below his knees. The fur side lay against his skin.

“There will be change then. Not a moon’s passing before!” He looked at Andacon. “My people trust me. They know that collectively we are strong. We have many warriors. We hold off the Mandoag. The Powhatan respect us.” He scoffed. “Okisko dares not defy me!” He smiled, gestured toward Rakiock. “My right hand would crush him if he did.”

Rakiock’s matching fingertips touched. He grunted. “Okisko knows he needs our protection. The Chesapeake are peaceful but the Nansemond are not.”

“Neither is Matunaagd’s son.” Andacon nodded toward Wanchese. “By now Okisko has probably been told.”

Menatonon raised his right eyebrow, gazed expectantly at Wanchese.

Wanchese adjusted his haunches. Was this to be his punishment: belittlement in the presence of the great mamanatowick?

“Tell him, Wanchese,” Andacon said.

He hesitated, knowing how he spoke would influence greatly how he would be judged. “I … struck to the ground a Weapemeoc hunter at Perquiman. For slapping a canoe builder living separate from four hunters staying there. He had given them no offense other than his refusal to hunt and fight. He had given me deerskin to cover me, a fire to warm me, fish to eat, and conversation before I slept. What I did was hasty. I risked the lives of my friends.”

Rakiock looked at him, looked then through him.

“I … struck one of your subjects.”

Menatonon’s face exploded in lines. “If I were not so feeble, I might have, also!”

All but Wanchese laughed.

“If Okisko complains, I will tell him to bring me the hunter.” Menatonon’s ancient eyes pranced.

“Proximity to power strengthens loyalty.” Rakiock repositioned his bare feet.

“As does the closeness of my villages. I have fifteen, all along the Nomopana. Not spread out and few, like the Weapemeoc. Not spread out even more, like your people and the Secotan.” Menatonon touched the whiskers at his chin, studied for a moment his arthritic right forefinger. “Distance breeds disloyalty. Okisko is losing Pasquenoke.” He leaned toward Andacon, leaned back painfully. “You have come here to learn if Wingina has lost Pomeiooc, and with it probably Aquascogooc and Secotan. Is that not so?”

Andacon looked at his hands. Menatonon and Rakiock waited. Wanchese stared past the principal man’s head.

“We have, mamanatowick.” Andacon shifted his position on the tree branches bench.

Menatonon drew smoke through the stem of his pipe.

Wanchese watched Nootau’s left hand touch his left knee.

Menatonon exhaled. “If not, you are close to losing them. Piemacum sent traders here half a moon ago. Did Wingina not demand tribute?”

Andacon spoke rapidly. “Wingina sent us here and sent another canoe to Moratuc. After the taquitock moon Piemacum’s hunters shot arrows at us on hunting grounds we have previously shared.”

Menatonon sucked in more smoke, slowly exhaled. He pointed the bole of his pipe. “Prudent. Your mamanatowick is prudent, although, I believe, some of your young warriors must want to prove themselves.” Examining Andacon’s face, he nodded, smiled.

A lengthy silence followed.

Andacon stirred. “We request your wisdom.”

“Wisdom? Wisdom?! I am not Wingina. I do not rule there.” He turned slightly, his copper bead earrings swinging. “Rakiock, provide them your wisdom.”

Sitting very tall, Rakiock inhaled, lifted his right hand. “You can tell Wingina, if you choose, what he already knows. He has two options. Allow Piemacum to take what he wants. Or use force and the prospect of the use of greater force to restore obedience. Wingina must decide if he has enough warriors and the desire to commit to war if he chooses to use force.”

Andacon moved his left thumbnail across his upper lip.

“Upstarts must always be crushed.” Menatonon looked at Osacan. “So you have brought trade items to barter, hoping that the Pomeiooc had not come. We traded with them, but I left in my storage house some of what you have wanted before, believing I would see you. We can see tomorrow what we might trade. I will soon be distributing some of what I received from the Pomeiooc to my villages, starting with Ramushouuoq. Mesickek may have received rocks and such from the Mandoag since I visited his storage house. You are invited to accompany my men and trade.”

Andacon and Osacan thanked him. Menatonon and Rakiock stood.

Menatonon addressed Wanchese and Nootau. “It is time that I retire. I envy you virile, young warriors. The spirit is willing but the body quits. Each of you will find in a separate chamber of my guesthouse a thoughtfully chosen host waiting for you to share the night.”

#

She was waiting for Wanchese in a corner of the chamber close to a raised, small-branched, deerskin-covered bed. At first he thought he was alone, that the girl would enter from outside. A slight movement caused him to look in her direction.

He stepped over to her. It was difficult to see. He made out her features.

She was young. Fifteen? Sixteen? Not yet Alsoomse’s age. She was naked, adolescent slim, her breasts small, her limbs and buttocks not yet pleasingly rounded.

Her eyes darted. She appeared defensive. This was not what he had experienced the year before at Mequopen.

“What is your name?”

Her right hand moved toward her mouth. “Waboose.”

Wanchese smiled. “Do you have a white, furry tail?”

She looked at him. The corners of her mouth nudged.

“My name is Wanchese.” He waited. “You are but a girl.”

Her head dropped. She looked at the mat underneath her feet.

“Well?” he said.

“You are disappointed,” she said, her voice scarcely audible.

He was disappointed. He felt cheated. Disrespected! Why had Menatonon done this?

“You are angry.”

After a pause: “Not at you.”

“You will tell them. I will be punished.”

Wanchese sighed. He moved a step away from her, turned about. “You do not want to do this.” He turned around, stared at her.

“I … must. It is a great honor to be chosen. Wikimak has told me. The others.” Her right hand moved across her collar bones.

“Who is Wikimak?”

“Mamanatowick’s newest wife. She selects us.”

Wanchese thought of his sister. He imagined Hurit choosing Alsoomse and Sokanon to lie with guests from Weapemeoc. He laughed. Alsoomse would have sent every one of the Perquiman hunters running.

He saw anger in her expression. It stayed.

“I do not consider her choosing me amusing.”

“Of course not. It is a great honor. You said so.”

Her eyes flashed. “Do not mock me.”

“I mock my sister, when she deserves it.” He waited.

“Your sister.”

“Yes, Alsoomse, who is not afraid to say what she thinks of me. You made me think of her.”

After a pause, “Why?”

“She would not lie with a stranger, either. She has not done so with anybody.”

Wanchese now saw curiosity.

“Is … your sister young?”

“A falling of the leaves older than you, I think.”

“Do you … dislike your sister?”

“No.” He paused. “We just argue.”

She looked away. “I have a brother. We argue. He moved away two harvests ago to Ricahokene to live with his wife and her family.” She looked at Wanchese, looked away. “I miss him.”

“Sisters? You have sisters?”

“Two. Both older. Married. Both here. Always telling me what to do.”

“Do you have an admirer? Somebody who looks at you at every opportunity?”

He saw her face blush.

“Do you look at him at every opportunity?”

He sat upon the bed. After a moment she sat next to him, an arrow’s length away.

“I am not going to tell you,” she said.

He was beginning to like her.

They talked. He asked about her parents. Her father was dead, killed by the Mandoag. He told her about his dead parents and brother and sister. They talked superficially about loss.

Eventually, she stood. She glanced at him. “I have been chosen. I will be questioned. I must obey. I have not done this before. I am afraid. My sisters say it is time.”

He looked at her. He saw the smooth line of her shoulders and thought that despite his pangs of conscience he would do it. “All right,” he said.

He reclined beside her. She pulled a sewed together deerskin over their shoulders. He remained still for half a minute. She was lying on her back. He reached for her, felt her stiffness, reached for the curve above her right hip. She was not drawn to him.

He hesitated. Sitting partially upright, he looked at her eyes. He saw tears.

Dasemunkepeuc and Roanoke women did not cry.

“I cannot do this,” he said.

She blinked, brushed away the moisture. “You must.”

“We will lie together. That is all.” He lay back on the bed. Minutes later, he scoffed. “When they question you tomorrow, use your imagination.”

      In the middle of the night, lying on his stomach, he put his left arm across her upper body. Seconds later she placed her right hand gently on his forearm. A minute later she said: “If you lived here, I would be looking at you at every opportunity.” 

 

Alsoomse and Wanchese, Chapter 8, Sections 2 and 3

Algonquian Words

Cattapeak: spring

Cohattayough: summer

Kwiocosuk: shaman, priest

Mamanatowick: ruler of several villages

Montoac: a mysterious, immediate, and pervasive power beyond and greater than that of humans

Nepinough: earring of the corn season

Popanow: winter

Taquitock: the harvest and the falling of the leaves season

Wassador: copper

Weroance: chief of a village

Weroansqua: female chief of a village or dominant wife of the

village’s weroance

Windigo: cannibal monster (plural: Windigoag)

Characters Mentioned

* historically identified person

Allawa (Pea) – 15, Granganimeo’s daughter and Hurit’s step-daughter

Alsoomse (Independent) – 17, protagonist

* Andacon (Evergreens) – 25, Wingina’s war chief

Etchemin (Canoe Man) – 18, canoe maker and social outcast

* Granganimeo (He Who Is Serious) – 33, weroance of Roanoke

Hurit (Beautiful) – 25, weroansqua. Granganimeo’s second wife

Machk (Bear) – 17, Nuna’s brother, friend of Wanchese

Matunaagd (He Who Fights) – Alsoomse and Wanchese’s father, 35 at time of death, 1579

* Menatonon – 55, mamanatowick of Choanoac

Nootau (Fire) – 20, Sooleawa’s son and Alsoomse and Wanchese’s cousin

Nuna (Land) – 16, Alsoomse’s friend acrosds the lane

Odina (Mountain) – 16, Alsoomse’s friend across the lane

* Okisko – 29, Weapemeoc’s Weroance

* Osacan- 26, elite member of Wingina’s council

* Piemacum (He Who Churns Up the Water) – 25 Pomeiooc’s weroance

* Pooneno – 29, weroance of Matachwen and Tandaquomuc

Pules (Piigeon) – 11, Odina’s sister

Sokanon (Rain) – 18, Sooleawa’s daughter and Alsoomse and Wanchese’s cousin

* Tanaquincy – 28, Granganimeo’s chief advisor

* Wanchese (Take Flight off of Water) – 20, protagonist

Wapun (Dawn) – 12, Nuna amd Machk’s sister

* Wingina –34 mamanatowich

Maps

 

Sections 2 and 3

Nootau pointed. Wanchese saw high in the cloudless sky large-winged, long-necked migratory birds headed toward the Great Waters. He counted four brown bodies, black legs folded, arrow-straight gray necks extended, the tops of their heads – he anticipated -- red. Brown cranes! A rare sighting!

“Keep paddling,” Andacon ordered.

They had passed Weapemeoc, Okisko’s main village, having stayed well away from the shoreline. Andacon had not wanted talkative fishermen delaying them or – a consequence of Wanchese’s aggression – vengeful warriors attacking them. The risk of either occurrence now behind them, Wanchese anticipated a severe reprimand.

When he had removed his foot from the prone hunter’s head, Wanchese had glanced toward Etchemin’s shelter. The canoe-maker had vanished. As the battered hunter rose to his knees, Wanchese had located the three witnessing hunters, eyes, foreheads, mouths, and cheekbones exuding hate.

“Think before you act!” Andacon had thundered. “Four against three!” His formidable biceps had bulged.

One of the standing hunters had pointed. “He should be whipped! We will allow you to leave after he is whipped!”

“Your brave deserved the attack!” Osacan had answered.

“There will be no whipping, and there will be no fighting unless you begin it!” Andacon had declared.

“Nootau, take Wanchese down to the canoe,” Osacan had ordered. Nootau had immediately seized Wanchese’s left wrist. Wanchese had wrenched it free.

“Do as he says,” Nootau had hissed.

Standing directly behind Andacon, reaching back with his right hand, finding him, Osacan had pushed Wanchese’s chest.

Wanchese had then acquiesced. Slowly, the four of them had retreated, Andacon and Osacan facing the three offended hunters and their suddenly emboldened companion. When they had come to within twenty feet of the landing, Wanchese and Nootau had bolted ahead to push their canoe into the water.

“Get in!” Andacon had ordered, over the noise in the water. “You, Osacan, get in after them! I will push!”

“Ready!” Osacan had said, the three of them having taken up their paddles.

“Now! Decide!” Andacon, standing at the water’s edge, had declared. “Is your certain injury worth your avenging injury done to a bully and coward?!” Bald cypress formidable, he had glared. Satisfied, he had stepped backward into the water, had turned about, and had then pushed the canoe far into the river. Seconds later, as Wanchese, Nootau, and Osacan had paddled, grunting, he had propelled his water-slick, taunt body into the rear of the canoe.

Wanchese had not looked back. Each stroke of his paddle had taken him farther from the danger that he had caused. Leaving quickly the shadows of cypresses and tupelos, they had felt almost immediately the quick warmth of direct sunlight. Minutes later they had become a dot on Occam’s long waters.

They had escaped immediate and delayed attack. They – but not he -- were safe.

Cypress, tupelo, white cedar, and gum continued to line the right shoreline. He saw the trees; he could not see the land. He recognized his crime; he could not predict his certain punishment.

Acting rashly, ignoring Andacon’s order to desist, he had attacked a member of a confederation of villages neither Wingina’s ally nor enemy. He had endangered the lives of his three tribesmen. He had probably killed the canoe-maker. He had given the Weapemeoc an additional reason to dislike Wingina’s people. He had dishonored his father’s reputation.

He would not rise to any position of importance. He questioned only the moment when Andacon would confirm this.

The senior leader pointed across the broad waters. “Over there you can see where the Moratuc enters. At least one of its entrances.” Wanchese saw only marshes, reed vegetation, glints of blue.

“Many entrances.” Andacon scoffed. “May Tanaquincy enjoy finding the right one.”

Ahead of them the broad waters turned sharply right. The distance between the opposite shorelines shortened somewhat. Here enters the Nomopana [Chowan River], Wanchese thought.

“We now enter Menatonon’s territory,” Andacon stated. “We will go closer to this shoreline,” he said, his extended arm’s rippled shadow flitting on the water’s surface. “Much of its way this river goes straight. Then it narrows and bends to the right and then to the left. Choanoac is on the left bank. The sun will be close to leaving when we arrive.”

Lengthy, muscle-aching labor.

“We will make a stop at Ricahokene.”

They toiled. The sun had passed them. Their shadows were stretching toward the shore.

Syncopated grunts.

After awhile Andacon pointed left.

“Look! Metachwen! Look back a little! Tucked in on the little rise of land near the mouth of that swampy creek!”

Wanchese stared. He thought he saw two canoes peeking around the edge of land near the creek’s mouth.

“Pooneno is the weroance. There and at Tandaquomuc, which we also passed. The same side of the river.”

“I cannot see any land along here,” Osacan said. “Never-ending cypress and tupelo.” He laughed. “Nobody would ever find you if you had to hide.”

“The snakes would. The snakes and bugs would.” Wanchese suspended his paddle over the water, hoping he would receive a friendly response.

He heard a quiet chuckle.

The canoe glided.

He sensed, felt … the reprimand might come now.

“The wind is hiding.” Osacan said.

They resumed paddling.

“Who is Pooneno?” It was maybe the fourth time during the voyage that Nootau had spoken. “You said before that Menatonon is the Choanoac weroance.”

“Pooneno is like Granganimeo,” Andacon answered. “Maybe not as loyal. He is not Menatonon’s brother or his son. He is a fierce warrior. So I have been told. Maybe he is like Piemacum. A thorn in Menatonon’s foot.”

He had not been reprimanded! He wondered. How much had he damaged Andacon’s opinion of him? Had he overestimated the harm? He wanted to know! He twisted about. “About Pooneno. Would it be wrong to ask?”

“Yes!” His left hand gripping its middle, Andacon held his paddle still. “We will talk only about Piemacum! And trade. Nothing else!”

Several ring-billed gulls -- white under feathers, black heads, tips of their longest wing feathers also black -- soared overhead, squawked, propelled their bodies toward the western shore. As a boy Wanchese had enticed a ring-billed gull with a morsel of herring to approach within an arrow’s length of his hand. He had eventually tossed the piece and the gull had caught it, gobbled it, and waited a short distance away to be tossed another morsel. A second gull had joined it. Wanchese looked into the cypress-stained, translucent water. No herring swam beneath these waters this time of year as did white perch and spotted bass, wanting to catch smaller fish. If he waited long enough, if the canoe were to drift a bit, he thought he might see one or two. For all it mattered.

When?! He had been foolish to hope. When was he to be rebuked?!

“We paddle now to the other side of the river,” his leader declared.

How far were they from Ricahokene? Both of his shoulders ached. How was Nootau bearing it? But Nootau was accustomed to canoes. He thought of Etchemin, who fished and made canoes but refused to hunt, how that had made him an outcast. Nootau was accepted but because he was not a skilled hunter only partially respected. Wanchese wondered how he would now be judged.

“He gave me fish and a deerskin under me,” he blurted. “He does not kill. Except fish. He does not fight. Because that Weapemeoc hunter knew that he could, he slapped him.” Anger was heating his cheeks, forehead. “Because I had to, I put him on the ground!” The tops of his shoulders tingled.

He heard movement behind him.

Several paddle strokes later, Andacon said, “Sometimes the heart takes command. When it should not.”

3

“Be careful. Do not cut your finger.”

Two dressed deerskin aprons were stretched tightly between separated tree branches set atop two logs. Wapun and Pules were cutting fringes with sharp flint knives.

“This is not how I want it to look!” Raising her head, Wapun scowled.

“It should not look like what you want,” Alsoomse answered. “This is your first attempt.”

“I cannot cut straight,” Pules complained. “I will be laughed at.”

“By girls no better at it than you.”

“All of us had to learn how,” Nuna said. “Stop complaining!”

“Wait until you try to dye in designs.” Odina’s eyes glistened.

“Oh, can we do that?!” Wapun’s eyes turned to Alsoomse. “When?!”

“After you get better doing this.”

Sokanon, carrying broken off lengths of tree branches for the cooking fire, stopped to observe. “Tomorrow I will teach you how to make reed baskets.”

“Does that mean we have to go to a marsh and cut reeds?” Pules asked.

“It does. That is part of it.” Sokanon placed the branches next to the fire. She straightened, and then started.

Granganimeo’s wife Hurit, standing a canoe’s length away in the village lane, was staring at them. She approached.

“Weroansqua,” Sokanon greeted.

Instantly, Alsoomse rose. The back of her left hand covering her mouth, she faced about.

“Sokanon. Alsoomse. You are teaching these children well.” Hurit looked at Wapun and Pules, who were watching her with large eyes. “Is that not so?” she said to them.

“Yes, Weroansqua, they are very good,” Wapun answered.

Pules nodded vigorously.

“I am pleased.” Hurit looked at Alsoomse, then Sokanon. “I have a duty I want you to perform.”

Sokanon’s eyes flitted.

I want both of you to accompany me to Croatoan, tomorrow. To serve me. Together with Allawa, and two other young women.”

Alsoomse’s cheekbones tingled. Her arms felt the rush of adrenaline.

She had expected criticism.

“Both of you appear surprised.” Hurit’s amused smile enhanced her unaffected beauty.

“Weroansqua, we will serve you well,” Sokanon answered.

Hurit nodded. Her face hardened.

“You should know that Croatoan’s weroansqua has asked me to attend a meeting she is to have with Piemacum’s important men, believing, we suspect, that Piemacum wants her to submit herself and her people to his authority.”

Alsoomse felt a second surge of adrenaline. Quick to exhibit temper, her face burned.

The Croatoan were gentle people! Her father Matunaagd had said so, often! For some time now they had been led by a woman, which explained, probably, their peaceful manner. A thought occurred to her. “Weroansqua,” she said, “I believe I know her purpose.”

“Which is …?”

“Your presence will answer Piemacum’s question without the weroansqua needing to give it.”

Hurit nodded, a slow backward and forward acknowledgment. “You are perceptive, Alsoomse. You are your father and mother’s daughter.” She paused, looked at Alsoomse soberly. “But in other ways you are not nearly so. You disturb me.”

Alsoomse’s face blanched.

Sokanon interrupted. “Is Granganimeo to accompany us?”

What other ways? Alsoomse thought.

“No, Sokanon. His or Wingina’s presence would cause a fight.” Hurit’s face softened. “I am to go alone. Men do not usually fight women.”

“We leave then … when?”

“Immediately after the casting of tobacco. Several of our men will take us there in two canoes. They will not be men of high station.” For the first time Hurit looked at Nuna and Odina. “I will need Machk to be one of them. Please tell him.”

“I will, weroansqua,” Nuna responded.

Sokanon made a small hand gesture. Hurit raised her eyebrows. “I will need somebody to look after my mother. She is not strong.” Her face apologized.

“I am certain one of your friends here will do that.”

Simultaneously, Nuna and Odina nodded.

“Then everything is arranged.” Hurit turned, took two steps toward the lane, and stopped. Pivoting, she regarded Alsoomse. “One other matter.” Her eyes examined the length of Alsoomse’s body. “I expect you, Alsoomse, to show your high station the entire time we are there. That means necklaces, Alsoomse. Bracelets. Beads hanging from your ears. You will be representing this village, not yourself. Do you have them?”

“Yes.”

“I should not have to ask.”

“No.” Here was the expected criticism. She felt the start of a second burn.

Hurit studied her, too lengthily.

The burn reached Alsoomse’s ears.

“Why do you do this? Are you not proud of your parents’ standing?” Hurit looked at Alsoomse’s legs. “No tattoos, not even on your calves. Your cousin has them” – she pointed – “there, and there, and on her arms. She wears a nice shell necklace. Polished bones hang from her ears. Every day. Why must you be so different?”

She wants to know; I will tell her!

“We are different people.”

“That is obvious.”

“I love my cousin.” Alsoomse’s eyes combatted Hurit’s sarcasm. “I respect her for who she is. It is not because she is my cousin or she is the daughter of parents of high station. It is because of who she is.”

“We all judge people that way.”

“I know some who do not. Also, some people of high station expect to be treated well but do not deserve it.” She was thinking of Askook.

Hurit’s left index finger touched the outer side of her left breast. Her fingers curled, became a fist. “Are you saying that people who are leaders, who take responsibility for the welfare of their followers, should not be treated with respect?”

“No, weroansqua, I do not.” Both sides of her face were hot. “I am saying that people like me born into high station should have to earn respect, not demand it. That is why I live here, outside the gate to the compound. I do not want anyone to believe I demand respect.”

Alsoomse moved her right foot forward, traced a line in the sandy earth. “I believe also that people not born of high station deserving respect should receive it.”

Fists pressed against her sides, Hurit studied her. “You are outspoken in your beliefs.”

“I spoke them because you asked.”

The flesh beneath her chin stretched, Alsoomse maintained eye contact. Peripherally, Odina and Nuna were figures of stone.

Hurit’s irises remained centered. “You should know, Alsoomse, that there are people in this village, and at Dasemunkepeuc, who believe that you are dangerous. Strong-headed dangerous. My husband has spoken of it. Our kwiocosuk has spoken of it. You risk punishment, from Kiwasa, from your leaders. I will expect you to keep your thoughts to yourself while we are at Croatoan. I have … tolerated your independence, until now. I must be certain that you will say or do nothing to damage our purpose.” Her eyes bored.

“Your answer?”

She would be truthful, not weak. “I respect you and all of our leaders. I will do nothing to hurt our people.”

“You will wear ornaments that signify your station?”

Alsoomse hesitated. “Yes, weroansqua, I will.”