The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6) Read online

  “Better luck next time, gentlemen,” Governor Yeardley said. He patted the man closest to him on the back in a gesture of support and the man gave him a watery smile before walking down the nave toward the door.

  “Very good. Shall we proceed?” the minister asked, deferring to Governor Yeardley.

  “By all means, Reverend.”

  The reverend nodded and looked over the assembled company. He was younger than any clergyman Mary had ever seen and had the physique of someone who spent his days toiling in the fields rather than spreading the word of God. In fact, Governor Yeardley appeared to be the oldest person in the church, being close to forty, in her estimation.

  “Good afternoon. My name is Reverend Edison,” the minister announced. “Welcome to Virginia. Let us take a moment to praise the Good Lord for delivering you all safely to our shores before we proceed.” The reverend bowed his head and waited for everyone else to do the same, then began to pray. The men bristled with impatience, but Reverend Edison wouldn’t be rushed. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

  “Shall we get on with it, Reverend?” Governor Yeardley prompted him as soon as he finished with a heartfelt “Amen.”

  “Certainly. I will read out the name of the man, followed by the name of his intended. When your name is called, come and stand in front of the pulpit, side by side.”

  Reverend Edison finally began, and the women took their places next to their future husbands. The couples were silent, studying each other and smiling shyly as they tried to reconcile what they’d imagined these past months to reality. None of the men were very handsome. They were a rough lot, hardened by backbreaking work and toughened by lack of affection. Two of the men were probably the smiths, judging by their soot covered hands, and they stood stiff-backed and proud next to Faith and Patience, whose hands were clasped. At least the sisters won’t be separated, Mary thought as she waited her turn.

  Her head snapped up when she heard Nell’s name. Nell squeezed her hand and went to join a heavyset, bushy-haired man with a beard so thick it resembled a bird’s nest. Nell smiled at him and he lit up, strong white teeth flashing within the beard.

  Several more names were called, including those of Betsy and her intended. He looked at her with open admiration and smiled happily, making Betsy blush. Her future husband was tall and broad with clear blue eyes and a mane of dark hair tied back with a leather thong. His nose was a bit crooked, as if it’d been broken in a fight and hadn’t healed properly, but otherwise, he was one of the more attractive men in the church. Betsy stole a peek at Mary and smiled broadly. She could have done worse; her gaze was saying.

  Gwen had been paired with the oldest-looking of the men. He had to be around thirty-five and had a pinched look on his gaunt face. His nostrils flared with distaste when he beheld his bride and he had the air of a man about to be led to the scaffold. Mary thought they were perfectly matched.

  “John Forrester, Mary Wilby.”

  Mary’s gaze flew to the man who stood and came toward her. He smiled, revealing surprisingly straight white teeth. He wasn’t obviously handsome, possibly because he was whippet-thin and had a narrow, suntanned face, but he had kind brown eyes and sandy hair that was neatly brushed from his brow and tied back with a black ribbon. His clothes weren’t fashionable, but he looked clean and tidy, which was more than she could say for some of the others, who looked as if they’d come into Jamestown directly from laboring in a field. She suddenly realized that it was very likely they had. They’d had no way of knowing when the ship would arrive or when it would be time to claim their brides, and their farms couldn’t be neglected.

  Once all ten couples stood facing the pulpit, the reverend gazed at them solemnly and opened his Bible to a page he had marked with a red ribbon. He seemed ready to begin when Governor Yeardley held up his hand and smiled apologetically.

  “I’d like to say a few words before the ceremony, if I may,” the governor said. “Once you’re wed, you’ll be too eager to go home to spare me even a few moments,” he joked. “And I certainly don’t blame you, given the obvious charms of our long-awaited brides.”

  He beamed at the assembled couples. “Dear ladies, I welcome you to Jamestown and wish you much joy in your new life. Until you began to arrive, our little colony was nothing more than a primitive outpost, but now it’s a thriving community that will continue to grow through the new families we will create today.” He raised his eyes to the rafters and intoned, “‘And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.’ Reverend Edison, whenever you’re ready.”

  Reverend Edison nodded and began.

  Mary could barely concentrate on the words of the service. She hadn’t permitted herself to dream of her wedding often, but when she had, nine other couples had never figured into her fantasy. She’d imagined walking down the nave toward her beloved, feeling nervous and shy, but also happy and excited. She likely wouldn’t have a new gown to wear, but she’d have a bunch of posies in her hands, and maybe some wildflowers in her hair. She couldn’t fill her imaginary congregation with faces of family and friends, but in her dream, she felt their benevolence and knew they were full of good wishes for the happy couple. Except for the other couples, the governor, and Master Harrington, who looked as if he couldn’t escape quickly enough, there was no one present. The couples looked nervous and somber as they made their vows to each other, and there wasn’t a flower in sight.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Edison said to each couple in turn. “May God bless your union.”

  Mary stared at the tips of her shoes, suddenly terrified. She’d anticipated the wedding, but what was to come after was completely unknown. What would happen now? What would her new husband say to her? What was she to say to him? Mary glanced at Master Forrester to find him looking down at her. He looked as confused and uncertain as she felt, and his obvious lack of courage endeared him to her. He was nervous too, and possibly a little scared.

  “Shall we?” he asked, giving her his arm. His voice was softer than she’d expected, and his turn of phrase educated. “The plantation is four miles south of the settlement. It will take us no more than an hour to get home. I expect you’re tired from your journey.”

  “I am,” Mary replied.

  “As soon as I heard you’d be coming ashore today, I bid Travesty to prepare a fine meal in your honor. I’m very happy you’re here, Mary.” He looked into her eyes as he handed her onto the bench of his wagon.

  “I’m glad to be here, Master Forrester.”

  “John. Call me John.”

  “John.” The name felt strange on her tongue, but she’d get used to it. I’m to share my life with this man from this day forward, Mary thought, still bemused. Nothing seemed quite real, not the tiny settlement that was the heart of the colony nor the man who took his seat on the bench next to her. “Who’s Travesty?” she asked. Sometimes focusing on practicalities helped settle the mind.

  “Travesty is my indentured servant. She looks after the house and animals, while Simon and I work the plantation. We have a field of maize and a field of tobacco.”

  “And who is Simon?”

  “Simon is also an indenture.”

  John fell silent. He held the reins loosely in his hands as the horse trotted down a narrow, dusty lane. Mary gazed dispassionately at the fields and dense woods that lined the road. She peered into the distance, hoping to catch a glimpse of anything manmade, but saw nothing on the horizon save a sea of green. Where were all the houses? And the people? Surely there were homesteads at the edge of those fields, and colonists who inhabited them. Master Harrington had mentioned that to date there were nearly one thousand settlers residing in Virginia. Where were they?

  “How long have you been here?” Mary asked, desperate to engage John in conversation to distract her
mind from her unhappy thoughts.

  “Jacob and I came out eight years ago. Jacob was my older brother. He died three years ago of a snake bite,” John explained. He looked unbearably sad at the mention of his brother.

  “I’m sorry,” Mary said. “That must have been very difficult for you.”

  “It was. After Jacob died, I tried to manage on my own for about a year, but soon realized I’d have to get help. It took nearly all my resources to purchase Simon’s indenture contract, but Travesty came cheap. I acquired her a year later,” he added.

  “Have you ever seen any savages?” Mary asked, her voice catching. The women had spent much of their voyage discussing the natives. They had little information to go on, but what they thought they knew had left them trembling with fear.

  “I have.”

  “Are they as fierce and merciless as people claim?”

  “They are like nothing and no one I’ve ever encountered. I’ve never conversed with one, but they come into Jamestown on occasion, so I’ve seen them up close.”

  “They’re allowed to just walk in?” Mary gasped, alarmed.

  “The colonists wouldn’t have survived without trading with the Indians. The natives offered some helpful practical knowledge as well. They might be primitive, but they understand this land in a way we never will. They’ve lived on it for centuries.”

  “And Governor Yeardley trusts them?”

  John shrugged. “Yeardley is a shrewd fellow. He trusts them as long as they are useful to him, but he’ll turn the muskets on them the second they pose a threat.”

  Mary sighed with relief, but then recalled that she would be living on a plantation in the middle of nowhere, vulnerable to attack. “Have they ever come near your plantation?”

  “I haven’t come face to face with any, but I’m sure they have. They consider this their land, and they go where they please,” John replied matter-of-factly. He didn’t seem particularly worried, or maybe he was feigning indifference for her benefit, so as not to frighten her.

  “Do you have a musket?” Mary asked, her voice trembling.

  “Of course. Simon has one too. Don’t worry, Mary. They’ve no interest in us. You’ll be safe; I promise.” John laid a hand over Mary’s and patted it awkwardly. “It will be all right. We will be all right.”

  Mary nodded. She’d have liked to thank John for reassuring her, but the lump in her throat made it difficult to speak. She was frightened, not only by the prospect of living in such close proximity to Indians, but by the utter lack of civilization that came as a shock despite her best efforts to prepare herself for the primitive conditions of the colony.

  Chapter 8

  Mary’s breath caught in her throat as they approached John’s plantation. She leaned forward, straining to see her new home. At last, it came into view. The house, or more accurately cabin, was built entirely of wood. It wasn’t very large but looked sturdy and well proportioned. There were two outbuildings and a well in the middle of the yard, which was surrounded by a wooden fence.

  “That’s to keep the larger animals out,” John explained as he helped her down from the wagon.

  “Larger animals?”

  “Like deer. They’ll decimate the kitchen garden given the chance.”

  John led Mary toward the house. The door opened and a woman stepped out onto the narrow porch. She appeared to be a few years older than Mary and was attractive in a lush, overblown sort of way. Whereas Mary was short and thin, the woman was of a goodly height, and had the full breasts and rounded hips men found so appealing. Her hair, which peeked from beneath her linen cap, was very fair, and her eyes large and blue. Despite her smile of welcome, she wore the careworn expression of someone who’d had much sorrow to contend with.

  “Welcome, mistress,” she said and bowed her head.

  “Thank you. I’m Mary.”

  “Travesty Brown, ma’am.”

  Travesty stepped aside and Mary entered the cabin, followed by John. The interior smelled of pine and stewing meat, and Mary’s mouth watered with hunger. She hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in two months and hadn’t eaten anything since a meager breakfast of gruel and ale that morning. Her stomach growled, but thankfully not loudly enough for John and Travesty to hear.

  Mary looked around. The cabin was divided into two distinct parts. On one side was a quilt-covered bed and a wooden trunk that also served as a nightstand. A pewter candlestick and some personal items rested on the lid. On the opposite side was the hearth, a table and two benches, and a shelf that held cooking utensils and jars. In the center, effectively dividing the cabin in two, was a ladder that provided access to a loft.

  There were two windows, both facing the front of the cabin, that were outfitted with a length of rolled-up leather that could be lowered to cover the window. There were also wooden shutters that could be inserted during cold and inclement weather, but at the moment, they rested against the wall. The cabin was clean and tidy, and very cozy.

  “John, it’s wonderful,” Mary said, and meant it.

  “I’m glad you like it. Mary, I must go out for a time. Simon’s been in the fields on his own since morning and he’ll be needing my help. Travesty will help you settle in and once Simon and I return, we’ll all sup together to celebrate your arrival.”

  Mary’s face heated with embarrassment and she stared at the tips of her shoes. “I don’t have anything but the clothes I stand up in. Not much settling in required.”

  John smiled and walked over to the chest. He removed the items from the lid and opened it, taking out a length of russet-colored cloth. “When I learned I was to finally have a wife, I purchased this in anticipation. Please accept it as a wedding gift. There should be enough here for a new gown, and there’s some linen as well, for a new undergarment.”

  “Oh John, thank you,” Mary cried. “I’m afraid I don’t have a wedding gift for you.”

  “You being here is gift enough.”

  John handed her the cloth, kissed her chastely on the forehead, and left. Mary fingered the cloth. It was finely woven and thick, the type of cloth that would wear well and stand up to repeated washing. And the russet would go well with her own coloring. Her chestnut hair and blue eyes weren’t enhanced by drab colors—not that she’d ever been given a choice in the past. Her faded blue skirt and brown bodice were hand-me-downs from Agnes, and much worn.

  “You must be hungry,” Travesty said. “I’m making stew for supper, but there’s bread, butter, and fresh milk to tide you over.”

  “Yes, thank you. I am hungry. I haven’t had a proper meal since I left England.”

  Travesty nodded, possibly recalling her own voyage across the Atlantic. “Come and sit down, then.”

  “Won’t you join me?” Mary asked. She wasn’t at all sure how one was supposed to treat an indentured servant, but she was grateful Travesty was there. To have another woman to talk to was more than she could have hoped for. With John and Simon out in the fields all day, the cabin would get lonely, and she expected the only time she’d see other settlers would be when they went to church on Sunday. Mary hoped she’d have a chance to see the women she’d arrived with, particularly Nell and Betsy, and hear about their homecoming.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Travesty said. She poured two cups of milk, put out a dish of butter, and set a pan filled with something round and yellow on the table. The contents smelled unfamiliar, and a little sweet. Travesty cut two thick slices and put one on a plate for Mary.

  “Thank you, but what is that?”

  “It’s bread made of maize. Or cornbread, as some like to call it. It’s very tasty once you get used to it.”

  Mary broke off a piece and put in into her mouth. The bread was grainy and crumbled on her tongue, but it had a pleasant, if unfamiliar, flavor.

  “Do you like it? It tastes better with butter.”

  Mary buttered her slice and took a good bite. “Yes, I like it,” she declared. “I do believe this is the first time I’ve tasted so
mething new.”

  “Enjoy it, then. I daresay you’ll be experiencing many new things in this foreign land.”

  Mary longed to ask Travesty all kinds of questions but didn’t wish to put the woman off with her prying. They’d talk more in time, but for now, she had other concerns.

  “Travesty, I’d like to wash my clothes. The quartermaster allowed us some water for washing, but there wasn’t enough left to wash my gown and it’s terribly soiled.”

  “Well, there’s an easy enough way to fix that. There’s a creek ’bout a quarter mile from here. We go there to bathe, and to wash our things when weather permits. You can see to your needs and I will wash out your gown. It’ll dry by the time the master returns.”

  “Will it really?” At home, it took days to dry anything. Clothes either steamed dry in front of the fire or were hung outside, but were still damp by the time Mary brought them in.

  “Oh, yes,” Travesty replied. “The sun is that much hotter here than it was back home,” she said wistfully. “’Tis my second summer here and I still can’t get accustomed to the infernal heat.”

  Mary finished her meal and got up from the table, ready to follow Travesty to the creek, but Travesty wasn’t ready to go. She covered the butter dish, stowed away the jug of milk on a shelf, then brushed the crumbs off the table and wiped the plates with a rag, setting them on the shelf next to the milk. Mary liked Travesty’s diligence and wondered if she should have offered to help her tidy up. Travesty didn’t seem to expect it, so Mary waited patiently until Travesty finished what she was doing. Travesty was about to follow Mary out the door when she remembered something and turned back to grab a cake of soap and slip in into the pocket of her apron.

  They walked down a narrow footpath that led toward dense woods. Mary hung back, suddenly frightened, but Travesty’s step was confident and brisk. They walked in single file until the woods gave way to a clearing, where a creek flowed merrily between grass-covered banks dappled by golden sunlight.