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

Master Harrington looked around, taking a moment to study each woman’s face. “Have a pleasant voyage, ladies,” he said, giving them a mocking bow before departing.

Mary walked toward the first available stretch of wall space and sat down.

She didn’t have a bundle of belongings or any food, just her cloak.

She leaned against the wall and looked around, curious about her traveling companions.

There were nine women besides herself and they ranged in age from late teens to late twenties, in her estimation, and came in all shapes and sizes.

Two of the women, who looked to be about eighteen, were clearly sisters.

Fair, blue-eyed, and buxom, they sat close together and held hands, their fingers clasped tightly.

The rest of the women appeared to be unrelated.

The great ship heaved, and a metallic clanging filled the small space as the anchor was lifted in preparation for departure. Shouted commands and the sound of numerous feet hitting the deck came from overhead.

“We’ve moving,” one woman whispered. She looked around, her eyes filling with panic. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go home.” She looked like she was about to jump to her feet and run up on deck, but her neighbor laid a restraining hand on her wrist.

“’Tis too late now, Jane. We’re on our way. There’s no changing yer mind now.”

The woman named Jane slumped back against the wall as tears freely ran down her cheeks.

Everyone looked frightened and subdued. Mary bowed her head and stared at her clasped hands, not wishing to witness the raw feelings of the other women.

One woman began to pray quietly, and several others joined in.

“Perhaps it’s for the best we’re cooped up down here,” one woman said after the prayer. “I can’t bear to watch England disappear, not knowing if I’ll ever see it again.”

Another woman scoffed. “Of course, ye won’t see England again.

What’d ye think, ye’ll go on out to Virginia, take a good long look at yer intended, decide he ain’t up to yer standards, and come back?

The Virginia Company won’t pay for yer return passage.

This is a one-way journey, luv. Ye’ve made yer bed.

We all have. Whatever awaits us at the end of this voyage is our destiny.

” The speaker was one of the older women.

She had sharp features and didn’t look like she was much used to smiling.

“What if the men are brutes, and the colony is no better than a few shacks on a distant shore surrounded by flesh-eating savages?” Jane whispered.

“They’re not cannibals,” one of the other women replied. “They’re as likely to take your scalp as eat ye.”

“Take your scalp?” one of the blond sisters asked, looking horrified.

“Oh, aye, that’s what they do, ain’t it? They take the scalps of their enemies as trophies,” the sharp-featured woman said.

“Wherever have you heard such nonsense, Gwen?” a heavyset, dark-eyed woman demanded. It seemed the women had already introduced themselves to each other while waiting.

“Why, from one of the sailors who let me aboard. I had me a little chat with him, being the first one to arrive. He said the savages are fierce and merciless. They walk about nearly naked and paint their skins black to frighten the settlers. They smear poison on the tips of their arrows, and if they don’t finish off their prey with an arrow to the heart, they split their skull with a stone ax. ”

The women all gasped in horror and moved closer to each other for comfort.

“Oh, stop grousing,” the woman next to Mary said scornfully.

Wisps of carrot-red hair had escaped her linen cap, and her large brown eyes stared out of a pale, freckled face.

“If the good Lord sees fit to let us reach Virginia alive, things can only get better for all of us. None of us would be here if we had something worth staying for. We’ll have husbands who are strong and fit.

The company don’t waste good coin on sad, old weaklings.

We’ll have our own homes, and land, and maybe even servants. ”

“Servants? Well, listen to ye, Mistress High and Mighty. If there are servants to be had, it’ll likely be us right here,” Gwen scoffed.

“There are ships going out to Virginia, carrying indentures. Some have been sentenced by the magistrate to do seven years’ penance, and others sell themselves ’cause they can’t find no other way to go on.

What do you think these poor wretches do once they get there?

” the redhead asked. The women shook their heads, trying to understand this new concept.

“They work the land if they are men, and they skivvy if they’re women. ”

“So, why do they need us if they have women to do for them, Nell?” one of the sisters asked.

“They need us to help populate the colony. We’ll be the mothers to the first generation of Englishmen born in Virginia. We’ll be a part of history,” Nell replied proudly. Some of the women tittered with mirth.

“You’ve really got a wild imagination, don’t you, Nelly?

I can just see us, all set up in fine houses, with servants, surrounded by acres of property and dozens of children.

Will they be giving out noble titles, do you think?

” the dark-eyed woman taunted the redhead.

“I’d like to marry me a lordling. Always thought I had what it takes to be a fine lady.

” She arched her back, lifted her head, and stuck her nose in the air, making the other women laugh. “Lady Betsy. How does that sound?”

“Ye might have to call yerself Lady Elizabeth, on account of yer new title,” one of the women replied with a chuckle. “Lady Betsy sounds like someone’s favorite cow.”

“I’ll gladly be my lord’s favorite cow if he milks me regularly and strokes my teats,” Betsy replied. The women roared with laughter, the tension of a few minutes ago dispelled by Betsy’s good humor. “We’ll be all right, girls,” she said, still grinning. “We’ve just got to believe it. ”

“Who decides who marries who?” Mary asked, finding her voice for the first time. “I’m Mary Wilby,” she added shyly, remembering her manners.

“Oh, they have a list,” Betsy replied. “I asked Master Harrington when I first came aboard. The Virginia Company paid Captain Robeson to take out a dozen women. They gave him a list of twelve men. They enter the women’s names in no particular order.

’Tis all the luck of the draw. Mary, you’ve got the last one on the list, being the last to join this merry matrimonial expedition,” Betsy mused.

“Don’t make him better or worse,” she hurried to add when she saw Mary blanch. “Just last.”

“But there are only ten of us,” Jane interjected.

“Then two poor sods are out of luck,” Gwen replied. “They’ll have to wait for the next shipment to get their bride.”

“The only poor sod is the one who gets you for a wife,” Betsy retorted. She clearly didn’t like Gwen, and the feeling was mutual. Gwen looked murderous but chose not to reply.

“What if they are unkind?” one of the sisters asked.

“These men haven’t had a woman to hold in years, possibly decades,” Nell said. “They’ll be so happy to have a bit of affection, they’ll treat us like royalty.”

“Either that, or they won’t give us a moment’s peace.

You don’t know how men are when they have the urge come upon them.

They just need to stick their swollen cock into a slippery hole.

You’ll be getting the royal treatment all hours of the day and night, my girl, and they won’t be stroking your teats neither,” a plump, fair-skinned woman piped in from her corner.

“Spoken like someone who knows,” Gwen scoffed, dripping scorn. “What brothel have they plucked ye from, dearie?”

“I’ve been married twice. I know ’bout these things. Once a man has a woman of his own, he rides her day and night, whether she wants him to or not. ’Tis not all admiring glances and sweet kisses, being a wife.”

“Yet here you are, going for it a third time, Alice,” Betsy said, grinning lasciviously. “Being ridden must be more pleasant than it sounds.”

“’Tis no great pleasure being a widow,” the woman replied. “In this world, you need a man to survive.” The women nodded in agreement.

“Marriage is hard work, both in bed and out, but ’tis better than being a dried-up old spinster or a widow any day,” Alice said.

“Have you no children, Alice?” one of the sisters asked.

“I had two boys, aged four and six. They died this past winter,” Alice replied, her voice trembling. “There’s nothing left for me in England save grief and poverty. I’ll gladly endure another man’s needs in exchange for having a family again.”

Mary leaned into the wall, wishing she were invisible.

The conversation was making her uncomfortable.

She hadn’t given much thought to the intimacy that’d be required of her once she was wed but was forced to acknowledge it now.

She’d heard Uncle Swithin grunting on the other side of the wall night after night when Agnes was still alive, the brutal act accompanied by Agnes’s pitiful cries as he hurt her.

Agnes hadn’t dared deny Swithin, all too aware that the beating he’d give her would be much worse than the few minutes of misery he inflicted on her when he wished to exercise his husbandly rights, but she’d washed herself with vinegar come morning, fearful of getting with child again.

What have I done? Mary thought bitterly. I’ve escaped a bad situation and landed myself in a worse one, and now I have no way out. I’m trapped on this ship until I reach the shores of Virginia, and then I’ll be handed over to a man I’ve never so much as laid eyes on. He might be cruel and violent .

Mary was startled when a gentle hand covered her own. “Stop fretting. ’Tis human nature to fear the worst, but your future will be what you make it,” Nell said.

“I’m frightened of what’s to come,” Mary admitted quietly.

“Well, buck up. You’ve an exciting voyage ahead of you, and a good man waiting at the end of it to give you a better life.”

Mary gave Nell a watery smile. “You really have a nice way of looking at things.”

“When you expect terrible things to befall you, they usually do.”

Mary didn’t bother to argue. She hadn’t expected her parents to die of the fever, one after the other, or to wind up in the care of Uncle Swithin, who’d as soon beat her as care for her.

She hadn’t expected Agnes to die either, leaving Mary to care for the children and run the tavern with Agnes’s angry, drunken husband.

Mary had expected none of those things, but they had happened all the same.

She would miss the girls, she readily admitted that, but no amount of guilt over leaving them could have stopped her from going.

Uncle Swithin was hard on his daughters, but he loved them in his own gruff way and would see to their well-being.

They’d be all right, Mary assured herself as the ship sailed out of the harbor, especially if Swithin took a new wife.

With Mary gone, he’d need a woman about the place, and if Mary knew anything of Swithin, he’d choose a young, docile lass, one who’d be good to his children.

Her cousins were no longer her concern. All she had to do now was survive.