“How long has this been planned?”
“For many moons. I have been a child, fooled and turned aside from the trail; not wise enough to see it beneath the flowers, through the smoke of the peace pipes.”
“Why does Opechancanough send us back to the settlements?” I demanded.
“It is his fancy. Every hunter and trader and learner of our tongues, living in the villages or straying in the woods, has been sent back to Jamestown or his home with presents and fair words. You will lull the English in Jamestown into a faith in the smiling sky just before the storm bursts on them in fullest fury.”
There was a pause.
“Nantaquas,” I said, “you are not the first child of Powhatan who has loved and shielded the white men.”
“Pocahontas was a woman, a child,” he answered. “Out of pity she saved your lives, not knowing that it was to the hurt of her people. Then you were few and weak and could not take your revenge. Now, if you die not, you will drink deep of vengeance—so deep that your lips may never leave the cup. More ships will come, and more; you will grow ever stronger. There may come a moon when the deep forests and the shining rivers will know us, to whom [v]Kiwassa gave them, no more.”
“You will be with your people in the war?” I asked.
“I am an Indian,” was his simple reply.
“Come against us if you will,” I returned. “Nobly warned, fair upon our guard, we will meet you as knightly foe should be met.”