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  Still, I am greatly curious about these Coatmen. I would like very much to visit them. As the daughter of the Great Chief, I can go where I choose, well protected by those who travel with me. And surely even these new Coatmen would not dare to mistreat someone such as myself.

  ***

  My father has three times seen the death of nearly all his people. It is true that he has watched the leaves return eighty times. Most of those who were young with him have gone to the high place and stepped onto the road to the sunset. But it is not because of his age that this is true. Nor did so many of his people die because of the wars through which he forged our great alliance of seventy tribes. It was the sicknesses. New diseases came among us after the Tassantassuk touched our shore. Those sicknesses burned through our villages like fire through the dry grasses in summer. Some of our people believe that those sicknesses will continue to come as long as the Coatmen keep arriving.

  Death does seem to follow the Tassantassuk. Each time the Coatmen arrive, soon after we see new illnesses that our medicines cannot touch. My father says that we must watch the new Coatmen closely and see if they are already sick. Some in the village want to just wipe them out, but my wise father believes we must watch and wait.

  I do not doubt that our warriors could defeat the Coatmen, even with their thunder weapons. Our fighters are the strongest and bravest of all men. To make them so strong and brave, we have the ceremony of the Huskanaw—which gives one a new body. During that long ordeal, a boy is taken by his keeper into the forest to die and be reborn as a warrior. But even our bravest warriors do not want to kill all our enemies. We know that even the worst enemies may be made into allies. The only nation of which I know that has been wiped from the Great Circle of the earth is that of the Chesepiock, because of the prophecy that a nation would arise from the Chesepiock Bay that would bring an end to my father's great confederacy.

  But even then, all the Chesepiocks were not killed when my father made war on them to defeat that prophecy. It was not the people but their nation that was seen by my father as a great threat. After the Chesepiock warriors were defeated, their name as a tribe was extinguished like a burning log dropped into the river. Their women and children were not harmed but adopted among us. Their people were scattered among our other nations and given new names so that the prophecy could not come to pass.

  ***

  This morning, I rose, as I always do, before Kefgawes, the Great Sun, showed itself. I walked down to the river and washed myself in its cold, clean water. I sat by its banks. I made a small circle of tobacco around me. Then I spoke to Kefgawes, giving thanks that I was able to see a new day, that there is strength in my body to move about, that my people and I have been given the things needed to live.

  I then went back to my place in my father's house and took out my paint. I chose red paint, made from puccoon, the bloodroot, and the oil crushed from hickory nuts. I stirred it well to make it even and smooth, and I painted my whole face, from the top of my head down to my chin. As is the case for all girls before they reach the age of marriage, my hair is all cut off except for the single long braid at the back of my head. I also painted my shoulders, but I stopped applying paint before reaching the intricate tattoos of intertwined flowers that circle the upper parts of my arms. Those tattoos were made only two seasons ago. I remember the feeling of the sharp bone awl piercing my skin again and again as drops of paint were applied to the places where blood welled up. Of course, I did not cry out or show in any way that I felt the pain. I appreciated the great care that my aunts and my mothers took to make me so beautiful by giving me the tattoos.

  As I applied my paint, I used the three long fingers of my right hand and then those of my left. One of my mothers, Green Reed, the oldest of my father's wives, watched as I did all this. She made sure the paint was smooth and even and that I had not missed any places. She painted the white circles around my eyes first and with the fingers of her right hand used more red paint to touch up the places I missed. I had to use the eyes of Green Reed to tell me how I looked.

  "Close your eyes," Green Reed said as she dipped her left hand into a box of matchqueon, the beautiful dust made by grinding a certain stone. It makes one's face sparkle with many lights that are almost as bright as the twinkling of the Pummahumpal, the distant ones far above, the stars that fill the night sky.

  I did as Green Reed said. The warm touch of her breath struck my face as she blew the dust evenly over the still-moist paint. Then I sat without moving until it dried, feeling it tighten the skin of my cheeks as it did so. When it was dry, I stood up and finished dressing myself. The weather has been warm enough to wear no clothing at all—which is the way most of us go about when we are children. However, I was dressing to impress these new Tassantassuk. I would present myself as the favorite daughter of the Great Chief. So I put around my waist a fine white apron of deerskin, which had been softened by tanning with smoke. The apron was decorated with rawrenock shells and pieces of copper, making designs in the shapes of animals and flowers. I hung long earrings of strung pearls through the pierced lobes of my ears and then wound a long necklace of pearls and pieces of copper around my neck so that it hung across my bare chest.

  Green Reed looked me over and then nodded in approval, as did the other women. I had chosen eight girls of my own age to accompany me. Several of them also were very well dressed, but no one looked as beautiful as I did. They had brought rattles with them, as I had told them to. It was my plan for us to sing a welcoming song and then dance for the Tassantassuk. I could already see in my mind how pleased their strange, hairy faces would be as they saw and heard us emerging from the forest. It would be such fun!

  However, as I stood there, the pleased center of attention, someone scratched on the door and then politely cleared his throat.

  "Aho. You may enter," Green Reed called out.

  A head topped by a headdress of hawk feathers and weasel tails appeared under the doorway. The many earrings of copper that dangled from the lobes of both ears clinked together as that person raised his head. The lined and weathered face beneath the headdress was one I knew well. It was Rawhunt. He looked at me, spread his hands, and then brought them down toward the earth. I smiled, even though the paint on my face made it difficult to do so. He was telling me how grateful he was to have been given this glimpse of my beauty. Rawhunt is the perfect emissary. He always knows the right thing to say or do. Although his body has been twisted by his years, he is my father's favorite messenger and a trusted adviser. I was pleased to see him this morning, for it was Rawhunt I wished to accompany me when I visited the new Coatmen. When the Tassantassuk came out to welcome us and praise our singing and dancing and give us presents, Rawhunt could speak for us—and also help carry back whatever gifts we received.

  "Amonute," Rawhunt said, speaking my formal name. "Amonute." It was another way of telling me how grand I looked, while also giving me the honor I deserved as my father's daughter.

  "Rawhunt," I replied. "It is good to see you are well. I give thanks to Ahone."

  "It is good to see that you are well also, good to see," Rawhunt said.

  "Are you ready for our journey?" I said.

  Rawhunt did not answer quickly. He is careful with his words. He often repeats them, as if enjoying to hear their sound. Much as he likes his own words, though, he likes silence just as well. He began to study the palm of his left hand, as if he had found something interesting there that needed all of his attention. I became suspicious.

  "Rawhunt," I said, "what has my father sent you to tell me?"

  "Waugh," Rawhunt said. "I am amazed, amazed. How is it that you know your father has sent me to tell you something?"

  "Just tell me," I said. I was impatient and not pleased at what I thought I was about to hear.

  "Amonute," Rawhunt said, his eyes now on the wall of the lodge, "your father, your father says that perhaps, perhaps this is not the right time for you to visit the Tassantassuk. He has decid
ed that first, first we must see what kind of warriors they are."

  4. JOHN SMITH: Ashore

  The six and twentieth day of April, about four o'clock in the morning, we descried the land of Virginia; the same day we ent'red into the Bay of Cheupioc directly without any let or hindrance, there we landed and discovered a little way, but we could find nothing worth the speaking of but fair meadows and goodly tall trees, with such fresh waters running through the woods as I was almost ravished at the first sight thereof.

  —FROM OBSERVATIONS GATHERED OUT OF

  A DISCOURSE OF THE PLANTATION OF THE SOUTHERN COLONY

  IN VIRGINIA BY THE ENGLISH, 1606.

  WRITTEN BY THAT HONORABLE GENTLEMAN,

  MASTER GEORGE PERCY.

  APRIL 22nd–APRIL 26TH, 1607

  WE PASSED, ON THE twenty-second of April, through a storm so great that it seemed the ocean was one great mouth and all our small fleet would be swallowed up. At last it passed, but it was with tattered sails and great misgiving that we continued on our way, fearing we were lost and our destination would ne'er be reached. Aboard the Discovery, Captain Ratliffe urged that our fleet should turn, like whipped curs with our tails between our legs, and flee back toward the safety of England.

  "We are near," Captain Newport assured those of faint hearts, yet he knew that we must soon make land or all would be lost indeed. He stood hour after hour on the highstern deck of the Susan Constant, eyes squinted against the glare of sun and sea, seeking the welcome sight of land as others sank further into despair.

  Yet, as so often happens, fair did follow foul. Ere the Hill light of dawn, at four o'clock in the morning, came the cry.

  "Land ho!"

  There rose the southernmost point of land that guards the entry to Chesapeake. The sun lifting from the wide sea behind us shone its light on that very bay which had been our destination. God, the guider of all good actions, had driven us by His providence to our desired port beyond all our expectations. As we watched, a great-winged bird lifted from the marshy land and flapped its way across the sky, passing slowly over the bow of our flag ship.

  Our little armada made its way, led by our admiral, through shoals and bars to anchor at last in a likely place not far from shore. The place that lay before us seemed goodly, indeed. To the eyes of men who had seen too much of wave after wave, the green trees and the pleasant meadows were almost as welcome as the sight of home and family left behind. Before them lay a fruitful and delightsome land. Their eagerness to set foot on this new shore was, sad to say, as great as their heedlessness. No real soldier was among the party that left the safety of our ships.

  Some thirty men, led by Captain Newport, himself, took to the boats. Soon they had left their footsteps behind them in the sand as they climbed up from the beach to look upon the new land. 'Twas not an easy climb, for the ground was marshy, tangled with reeds and other strange grasses. Before them, on the higher land, grew goodly taller trees, oak, walnut, and pine, next to fair meadows where fresh waters ran through the woods. The day was warm, and I know well how hot and heavy their armor and breastplates must have felt to them. Yet a man used to war also grows used to such discomforts, which are far less than the pain of an arrow piercing unguarded flesh. Had I been among that less than cautelous party, I would have warned them to keep closer guard and never doff their helms.

  But where was this wise Captain Smith on that first day when our party began discovering this new land? Where was he while the naturals did peer from hiding and then creep silent as bears, their bows held in their teeth, closer and closer to that heedless band of gentlemanly innocents? Why did he not urge them to find a place easier to defend? As the one true soldier among them, why did he not make them set proper sentries and urge them to keep their eyes open for fear of subtlety from the naturals?

  Alas, I, John Smith, was still held on board our Admiral, the Susan Constant, laid by the heels as a prisoner. Whereas I had spurned the invitation to my own execution, I remained still in ill favor among those favored notables on board when we reached the new land. I could but watch, pacing back and forth on the deck of our flag ship, as the landing party went ashore.

  The day passed without incident. From time to time one of our party, perhaps the eager Percy or the portly Wingfield, would appear on the crest of a hill to wave in joy or derision at those of us left behind on board.

  "All is well," would drift the call across the still water.

  Then that unrestrained adventurer would vanish again from sight to delight in the feel of land beneath his feet, the scent of pines, or the wild red berries which grew in abundance and were most sweet to the taste.

  At last, as the light began to fail and the soft breeze of evening to blow, our landing party made ready for their return to our ships. I watched as best I could, apprehensive, for I know how perilous is that hour when the coming night cloaks danger in its growing shadows. A true warrior may oft find ways to turn the dark to his advantage. Indeed, that coming night reminded me of one of my own adventures.

  It happened whilst in Hungary, where I had joined the army of Baron Hans Jacob Kisell, who was seeking to relieve the Christians of Oberlimback who were beseiged by the Turks. Having studied my military texts so well, I was able to suggest to him a way of using our torches as signals in battle. In the dark, our pagan enemy estimated our numbers by counting the number of fuses burning atop our pieces. My conclusion was that two or three thousand pieces of match fastened to diverse small fines of a hundred fathom in length and attached to two staves might all be fired at once. Being discovered by those false fires, the Turks would think them to be some great army. So it did happen. As the Turks made ready to face our false army, Kisell and his ten thousand attacked the Turks' quarter from behind. A third part of the Turks were slain and all who survived fled. As the author of this plan, I was occasioned a good reward and preferment and made captain of two hundred and fifty horsemen.

  That pleasant memory brought a smile to my lips, but my ears were still pricked toward the darkening beach. Just as I feared, before our unwise adventurers could reach their boat, their alarums sounded from shore.

  "Take arms, take arms," came the desperate shout across the wine-dark water. "The salvages are upon us."

  Then followed the war cries and the sound of fighting. I saw the flashes of fire from our pieces, heard the shouts of confusion and pain which always accompany a battle. Though I did not know it then, Captain Gabriell Archer was wounded in both hands, and one of the sailors was pierced by arrows two places in his body very grievously. Indeed, with no man among our party on shore who knew anything of warfare, our whole enterprize might have ended there had the naturals fallen upon them in great numbers.

  Some few among us had the sense to fire upon them from the pinnace, which was close enough to shore. They felt the sharpness of our shot. Howbeit, 'twas only after that party of salvages, which was blessedly small and poorly armed, had spent all their arrows that they retired into the woods with a great noise and left us.

  I could but clench my fist and pound it upon the rail as I stared into the dark Virginia night. Yet even as I harked to the attack of the naturals and heard the wails of our wounded, the thought went through my mind that my restraint would soon be at an end. Having felt the sharpness of arrows, the planters would now feel differently. The need of a soldier's knowledge would be seen with the fight of day.

  5. POCAHONTAS: Enemies or Friends

  We make offerings to those powers that help us. We give tobacco to the medicine plants, to the earth from which springs the corn. We sing and speak out thanks to Okeus and the many kwiokosuk who help us see what approaches through the eyes of their priests.

  We keep thanks in our hearts, for we know that Great Hare has a lodge prepared for us beyond the rising Sun. When a spirit is ready to leave this earth, it first goes treetop-high. There it sees a broad, flat path that is easy to travel. That path leads toward the sunrise. Along its sides grow ripe berries and fruits of
all kinds. Halfway on the journey, the spirit rests for a while in the lodge of the Good Woman Spirit. There it is given hominy and hickory-nut milk. At the end of that road to the rising Sun, the spirit of one who has died comes to Great Hare's lodge. There those who have gone before greet that spirit with delight. They dance and sing with Great Hare and eat good foods of all kinds.

  However, the spirits of those who have died from the earth do not stay forever in Great Hare's lodge. They age, though much more slowly than here within this life. At last, when they have grown old and gray, they die and are reborn again as a child into our world.

  COHATTAYOUGH

  HOEING TIME

  MID-MAY 1607

  "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND," I said to my father as he sat on his mat, restringing a necklace of pearls. Although he is Mamanatowic and might ask others to do such things for him, my father still prefers to do as all the other men do. He makes his own mockasins, works with his own hands the copper that he shapes into earrings or ornaments for his hair, and sews together his own fine robes from Arakun skins. "If the Coatmen are such enemies that I cannot visit them, why do we not just drive them away?"

  "Matoaka," he said in a soft voice. I drew closer to him. My father had called me by the name that only my closest family knows. It means Snow Floating Down Like Feathers. Clearly he wished his words to go to my heart.

  "I am listening," I said, resting my hands on his knees.

  My father laid the necklace of pearls across his lap and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Nechaun, my child, I see that these new Tassantassuk are not like the Espaniuk. Maybe they will be of use to us. They have strong weapons. Maybe I will be able to use them and their weapons against our enemies."