Page 36 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

“The English had dug a hole in the ground to store food. They thought it’d last longer down there.

The hole was covered with a wooden door.

One of the scouts pulled up the door and found a woman and child inside.

The woman was insensible, but the child was frightened and crying, begging his mother to wake up. ”

“Why were they left behind?” Mary asked.

Walker shrugged and grew quiet, staring into the distance as if he could see that fateful day, despite the fact that he hadn’t been born yet.

“Please, go on,” Mary pleaded.

“The scouts helped the child out of the hole and carried the woman to a canoe. They brought her back to the village.”

“Did she come to?”

“Yes, but she was terrified and couldn’t communicate with anyone since she didn’t speak the language.

She refused to eat and rocked back and forth for days, moaning to herself and staring at nothing.

After a time, she began to take a little food but still wouldn’t respond, not even to hand gestures.

She just stared into the fire or slept.”

“What happened to her?” Mary asked.

“After many moons, she began to adjust to life in the village. She helped the other women and learned our tongue. When she gave up all hope of England, she was given a new name.” Walker said something strange in his tongue.

“What does that mean?”

“Sad Eyes. ”

“What was her name before, in England?”

“Elizabeth Viccars. And her boy’s name was Ambrose. After the seasons changed many times, she took a husband from among the village braves. Their first child died on the day of its birth. I was born the following spring. My mother died when I had eight summers.”

“What became of her other child?” Mary asked.

“He grew up, took a wife, and had many sons,” Walker replied. “He’s my brother, and he’s still with the Croatoan.”

“Is that why you came here? To see the English?”

Walker nodded. “My mother retained her native tongue. She spoke to me in English and told me stories of her homeland. She sang strange songs. She said it’d benefit me to speak the English tongue when more men came across the sea.

When I heard the English had built a settlement on Powhatan land, I came to see for myself.

I wanted to learn about that part of my spirit. ”

“And have you?”

“The English are a mystery to me.”

“In what way?” Mary asked, mystified.

“In every way. The English way is very contrary.”

“I don’t understand.”

Walker’s eyes locked with her own, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Your God created everything, so the Bible says. He made man in His image.”

“Yes. What’s so contrary about that?”

“If man is made in God’s image, why does your God punish man for following his instincts, the instincts He gave him?”

“What instincts? ”

“He gave people curiosity, then banished them from Eden for using it. He made men lustful, but your church says desiring a woman is a sin.”

“It’s not a sin to desire one’s wife,” Mary explained patiently. “God said, ‘Be fruitful and multiply.’ You can’t multiply without lying together.”

“No man can desire only one woman his whole life. That goes against nature.”

“Do people not marry in your culture? You just said your mother took a husband, and your brother married and had many sons,” Mary said, intrigued by this unusual logic.

“They do, but if they no longer make each other happy, they go their separate ways and find different partners. It’s not a sin to love more than one person. The Indians have no concept of sin.”

“How is that possible? If lust is not a sin, or adultery, how about murder? Surely that’s the greatest sin of all.”

“People kill because they must. Why should that be a sin?”

“It’s wrong to take a life,” Mary argued.

“The English take many lives. They have killed to conquer other people, to defend their own, to protect what’s theirs, and to punish for everything from betraying their country to stealing a loaf of bread, all with the blessing of their God and king—and queen, whose name my mother shared,” Walker added.

Mary stared at him. “How do you know?”

“I talk to the settlers. I ask questions about their homeland. They like to talk, especially when drunk on corn liquor.”

“The English take lives for the same reasons as the Indians,” Mary protested. She felt defensive, confused by Walker’s strange arguments .

“Is it just to hang a hungry child who stole food to survive?” Walker asked. “Surely that’s the greater sin.”

“You said the Indians kill to punish,” Mary argued.

“Yes, but the punishment has to fit the crime. To kill children is barbaric.”

Mary bowed her head, considering Walker’s point of view. The English claimed his people were savages, but he saw the English as savage, and given what he’d said, he had good reason.

“Do your people think the English are barbarians?” Mary asked, shocked to have put the thought into words.

“My people think the English are to be feared.”

“And the English say the Indians are fearsome and bloodthirsty.”

Walker laughed. “You see, that’s why my people single me out. They mistrust the English, and the English mistrust the Indians. I’m the man between, the man who doesn’t belong.”

“You belong with the Powhatan now,” Mary replied, trying to understand.

“I’m useful to the Powhatan.”

“Will you return to your tribe?” Mary asked. The thought of Walker leaving made her unaccountably sad.

“Not yet. I’ve made a study of English men. Now I’d like to learn more about Englishwomen.”

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, shocking her with the intimacy of the gesture.

“I’m a married woman,” Mary said sharply .

“Do you love your husband?” Walker asked. Judging by his neutral expression, he wasn’t challenging or shaming her. He was simply asking a question to which he needed an answer.

“No,” Mary conceded.

“Then you are free to follow your heart.”

He leaned forward and kissed her again. The second kiss was more intimate, more demanding.

It was the first time she’d been truly kissed, and it was confusing and wonderful all at once.

For just a moment, Mary gave herself up to the kiss, desperate to feel affection and desire, but then she placed her palms against Walker’s bare chest and pushed him away.

“I’m not free to follow my heart. Marriage is a sacred covenant between two people into which I entered willingly. I made vows before God. I made a promise to honor my husband and be faithful to him.”

“But you don’t love him,” Walker protested. It was his turn to be confused.

“And is that what you’re offering me? Love? You said yourself that I remind you of your mother. You’re curious, and maybe lonely. You don’t love me any more than I love you.”

Walker smiled at her. She’d thought he’d be upset, but instead he looked amused, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“The first time I saw you, you reminded me of my mother. She had hair like yours, and eyes the color of the sky. And her skin was like the petal of a flower from those trees you gather red fruit from. But you’re nothing like her.

There was a profound sadness in my mother that never left her.

I was a young boy when she died, but even I understood that death came as a relief to her.

You are brave, Mary. You will not look to death to free you from your bonds.

You will fight because you have a strong spirit. ”

Mary’s eyes welled up, and she looked away from him, unable to explain what his words meant to her.

No one had ever told her she was strong, or brave, or spirited.

Ever since her parents had died, she’d felt invisible, inconsequential.

Her only value lay in her ability to work.

Even John, who had at first seemed so pleased with her, had lost interest. He looked at her, but he didn’t see her.

He never spoke to her the way Walker did, never explained anything or asked any questions.

“Why are you crying?” Walker asked, puzzled by her reaction.

“Because you see me,” Mary replied.

“Of course, I see you. I have eyes.”

Mary laughed through her tears. “You see me with your heart.” She placed her palm over his chest. His skin was warm and smooth, and she felt the steady beating of his heart beneath her fingers.

Walker placed his hand over hers and tilted his head until she was forced to meet his gaze. “It is because I see you that I understand your struggle. Vows are important, as is honor. I will not trouble you again, Mary.”

Mary gave him a watery smile. “I thought you were a savage,” she said. “Hardly more than a wild beast. You’re the most gallant man I’ve ever met.”

“I don’t know what ‘gallant’ means, but I know that you’re a woman of your word.” He took her hand from his chest and kissed her palm. “I wish you a good life, Mary Forrester.”

Mary’s eyes swam with tears. She didn’t want him to leave. She liked talking to him. He made her feel beautiful and worthy of attention.

“What if I want to see you?” she whispered.

“Leave me a sign on that tree,” he said, pointing to the oak.

“What kind of sign? ”

Walker shrugged. “Tie a piece of cloth to the branch.”

Mary nodded. “All right. I will. I mean, I won’t, but just in case.”

Walker cupped her cheek. “If you need me, I’ll come.”

She nodded and watched as he disappeared into the woods.