Savage Betrayal (35 page)

“No,” snapped Feast Giver. “I’m not. I can’t afford to be noble. Not after that treacherous betrayal of Fighting Wolf’s. I have few warriors, dubious weapons, and a long way to travel to engage my enemies. I need every advantage I can command. Fighting Wolf’s sister is one such advantage.”

Seeing she would get nowhere with her line of questioning, Sarita decided to drop the subject. She sighed. “All I know is that it would be terrible to condemn a beautiful woman like Precious Copper to a lifetime of slavery. I should know. I barely escaped such a life.”

Feast Giver’s only response was a grunt.

She rose quietly to her full height. “Well, catlati, I bid you good-night.”

“Good-night, Sarita. It’s good to have you home,” he answered softly.

She smiled and headed for her sleeping quarters. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw her brother still sitting by the fire. He was staring into the flames, an unfathomable expression on his handsome face.

* * * *

As they walked in the direction of their sleeping quarters, Spring Fern said to her companion, “Let’s take a short walk on the beach before we retire. I want to clear my head after all that food and conversation!”

Cedar Bundle nodded her agreement and they stepped outside the longhouse. They meandered through long grass towards the beach.

It was dark, but a quarter moon glowed silver in the night sky. The gentle lapping of the waves on the beach added a sense of calm to the dark scene. A salty breeze blew onto the land, adding a slight chill to the night.

“Oh, look!” exclaimed Spring Fern, pointing to the waves. “See the little bits of light dancing on the waves!” The phosphorescence truly did dance, gleaming white against the dark waters. The two women stood entranced, gazing at the waves.

“It’s so beautiful,” said Cedar Bundle.

Spring Fern smiled, her teeth a white smudge in the dark. “It wasn’t so long ago that you couldn’t find beauty here,” she said softly. “I’m glad that things have changed for you.”

“So am I,” responded her friend. “So am I.” After a short pause she added, “I suppose I’ve accepted my new role. Thunder Maker treats me very well.”

“I should hope so,” said Spring Fern. “You’re the cleverest of his women. And the prettiest.”

“No, not the prettiest,” said Cedar Bundle in a calm voice. “But surely the most desperate!”

The two women laughed, their soft voices carrying on the gently night breeze. They walked along the gravel beach, crunching the small rocks underfoot. “Are you his only concubine?” asked Spring Fern shyly.

Cedar Bundle nodded. “He does have two wives to keep him busy, after all.” She took a sudden interest in a large rock, probing at it with her big toe. “I guess it all started after he was injured. He needed so much nursing. Crab Woman didn’t want to do it. Abalone Woman wanted to help him, but she had others who needed her medical skills, too. So it fell to me to nurse him.”

“And?”

“And that’s how I came under his protection,” explained Cedar Bundle hastily, obviously disinclined to say more. Spring Fern did not press her. After a short silence, Cedar Bundle commented, “My sons are in a better position now. Thunder Maker ordered an older man, also a slave, to teach them fishing and hunting skills.” She paused. “It’s not what they would have had if their father had lived. But, it’s a lot more than many slaves ever get.”

“You’re right about that,” agreed Spring Fern.

“Enough of me. What about you? Do you see Rottenwood now that he’s back?”

Spring Fern shook her head. “No,” she answered sadly. “He avoids me. Perhaps he doesn’t love me anymore. I thought he cared for me. Before he was stolen away, he told me he did. Maybe he found someone else in Ahousat village. Someone he likes more than me.”

“I doubt that,” responded Cedar Bundle loyally. “And if he did, well--! You deserve better, that’s all!”

Spring Fern smiled, secretly gratified to hear the indignation in her friend’s voice. It was nice to have someone on her side.

Together the two women strolled slowly back to the longhouse.

Sarita had been back in her home village for a number of days, long enough to catch up on several changes. She’d had time to observe her brother, as well. He had indeed changed. The new, somber Feast Giver was now to be found with the young warriors, instead of catching crabs down on the beach for the children. He and his men spent a long time each day practicing with their recently acquired muskets.

Sarita noticed, too, how Feast Giver’s eyes hungrily followed Precious Copper whenever he thought she wasn’t aware of him. But it appeared to Sarita that Precious Copper was very aware of him, and she watched the two with great interest.

Chatting with Spring Fern, she was able to learn more of the changes in the village. Spring Fern was happy to tell her about the new weapons that Feast Giver had brought to the village. Sarita noticed, however, that Spring Fern was reluctant to speak of Rottenwood.

Sarita knew that while Rottenwood had wanted his freedom, he also wanted Spring Fern. In fact, she suspected Spring Fern was the main reason he’d returned to the Hesquiat village. That he had not yet told Spring Fern of his feelings was inexplicable. Puzzled, Sarita decided to say nothing to Spring Fern.

One sunny day, Sarita wandered down to the beach to watch the children swim. Summer was on the wane, but the weather was still warm. Watching the screeching, splashing children brought back childhood memories. She knew that soon there’d be no swimming once the rainy winter weather set in.

She found a large, warm rock on which to settle comfortably. The rock was near enough for her to hear the shrieks of the playing children, but far enough away to ensure some measure of solitude. One thing she had relished since her return was her privacy. Here, there was no one watching her with lecherous intent, no one watching to make sure she did not escape, and most of all, no one watching to make sure she was working hard!

Since she had been back, she thought idly, dipping her long toes in the swirling, clear water, she had not done any work. She wondered at the lethargy, but she just couldn’t make herself do any of her usual tasks. Usually she just wanted to sleep. Today, however, she had forced herself to get up and go to the beach. She had no idea why she felt so tired. Perhaps she should consult Abalone Woman, she speculated.

Her musings were interrupted by the deep voice of Rottenwood. She looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun, to see him striding towards her. She smiled and waved to him. He nodded coolly, squatted beside her and said nothing.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Sarita broke the silence. “Are you pleased to be back, Rottenwood?” she asked politely.

He shrugged casually, his eyes on the children. “Slavery is much the same no matter what village I’m in.”

She felt the blood rise to her cheeks. “Yes, I know it is,” she responded quietly. “Rottenwood, I—I haven’t forgotten that you helped me.”

He was silent, now ostensibly observing the sea, and waiting.

“I’ve asked my father to free you,” she went on. “He said we’d talk about it later.” Her voice faltered.

“And have you?” he asked, swinging his eyes around to meet hers.

She looked down into the crystal depths below. “No,” she answered in a small voice.

He grunted, contemptuously, she thought. Then he got up and walked away.

Sarita felt mortified. She had promised to free him, but she had not done so. She sat there, gazing into the water. Nothing, nothing had gone right since she had come home, she sighed. Her brother was obsessed with vengeance. Her father was distant. And she herself had given her word to an honorable man and then failed to keep it. Rottenwood had kept his word to rescue her. She would never have escaped without his help, she reproached herself.

She stared into the water as if seeking an answer there. Fighting Wolf too, had been in her thoughts lately. She wondered if he missed her, now that she was gone.

She threw a small pebble into the water and watched the widening concentric rings fade into nothing. He probably didn’t even care, she thought self pityingly. He would find someone else to warm his bed. That had been all he wanted her for, she thought, as she tossed another pebble into the cool depths.

While she was being brutally honest with herself, she might as well admit something else. She missed him. Missed his warm embrace at night, his laughter and teasing in the day. She thought of his beguiling eyes, eyes that could be stern and hard, or soft and understanding.

She wondered how Fighting Wolf would have treated Rottenwood, had he been in her position. With a start, she realized that he would have kept his word. Fighting Wolf wouldn’t have let anyone keep him from doing what he believed to be right. His revenge, misguided as it had been from her perspective, was ample testimony to that. He had certainly believed in avenging his father, and had done it. If Fighting Wolf, her enemy, could act as his sense of honor dictated, despite the risks involved, then why couldn’t she?

She considered herself an honorable person. She had always tried to be fair with herself and with others—until now. Until she had allowed her father to make her decision for her. She resolved once again to confront Thunder Maker and have the slave Rottenwood set free.

* * * *

Rottenwood walked away from Sarita, the bitter taste of failure in his mouth. He should have known better than to trust one of the nobles, he thought sardonically. Now that she was home safe, she didn’t care what happened to him, or about keeping her word to him.

The tide was out and he noticed a long strip of sand. He was very angry and knew he had to do something to express that anger. He loped across that sand, his tight muscles glorying in the fast pace he set for himself.

For days now, he had avoided Spring Fern. What it had cost him to stay away from her, only he knew. But he had wanted to go to her as a free man, not as a slave. Already the other slaves had been talking about him, calling him a fool for coming back. One of the men had even taunted him in front of Spring Fern. With great difficulty, Rottenwood had held his temper in check. At that time, he had hoped that within a few days he would be a free man. Now he knew differently.

The bitterness he felt at the hopelessness of his position washed over him. Before, when he had hoped, he had daydreamed that he was a free man, allowed to come and go as he wished, even free to take a wife, if he so chose. But he wanted Spring Fern, and though she was a slave, she would surely not turn him down once he was free! He would be free of that lowly status and scorn in the eyes of himself and other men. He would be free to be a man!

But today, the depth of his disappointment was almost unbearable. Better never to have had the chance of freedom, never to have dreamed of it, he thought bitterly.

The taste of defeat, the destruction of his dreams, the lost chance at freedom, were agonizing. He wanted to scream his anger to the sky, to Qua-utz, the god over all living beings. Someone should listen, must listen; someone should know the pain he carried. It was too heavy for him to carry alone.

Not since his capture as a young boy had the chains of slavery cut so deeply into this heart. It had been bad then, yes, but it was many times worse now, as an adult, when he had come so close to gaining his freedom.

His race across the sand slowed gradually. He had worked out some of his disappointment while running hard. As his anger gradually dissolved, he was able to think clearly again. He would not let this setback stop him, he resolved. He halted, poised on the sand, and raised his fist to the blue sky. “Before Qua-utz,” he vowed. “I swear I will be free or die trying.” His ringing cry lingered a moment, as did he, waiting for he knew not what.

At last he grew tired of the silence. He turned and walked thoughtfully back to the village, his back straight. He had taken a gamble and lost. Nevertheless, there would be other opportunities for escape, he was sure. He had done it once. He could do it again.

* * * *

That evening, Rottenwood sought out Spring Fern. He had noted that she usually went for an evening walk with her friend, Cedar Bundle. He watched them saunter through the village, past the longhouses. He recognized Spring Fern’s taller, slim form next to the shorter, fuller figure of Cedar Bundle. He leaned against the last longhouse, and after they passed by, he stepped between them and the village.

The two women gasped upon seeing a dark shape standing between them and safety. Spring Fern stood poised to run.

Holding out one hand, Rottenwood assured them that he only wished to speak with Spring Fern. At last, recognizing him, the two women held a whispered conference. He was relieved to see Cedar Bundle slip by him, back to the village, leaving Spring Fern alone.

He approached her cautiously. Spring Fern made no move, neither towards him nor away from him. He could feel the tension in the air around her, a palpable thing.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he began. “I wanted to speak with you today, but didn’t have an earlier opportunity to tell you.”

Spring Fern nodded. “Say what you have to say,” she answered briefly, turning her face from him. He had avoided her for days, ever since he’d been back.
What does he want?

“Not like this,” he said. “Not here, with you afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid,” she lied.

He took her arm, feeling her tremble beneath his hand. “Come,” he coaxed. “Let’s sit down by the water. It’s a lovely evening, and I would have the music of the waves serenade us.”

She let herself be led down to a large rock near the water. In the rock there was a natural hollow, scooped out by wave action. Spring Fern settled gracefully into the hollow. Rottenwood squatted on his heels next to her.

Gravely he looked at her. Though the moon was hidden behind clouds tonight, he was close enough to see her face, and smell the faint scent of cedar about her. He smiled and his teeth gleamed white in the dark.

Spring Fern felt herself relax slightly. “Was it difficult for you in the Ahousat village?”