Grail Quest Page 4

  The Governor agreed. An era of good feeling and plentiful crops helped persuade the council that there was less need for me to hunt; therefore my expedition made sense. Also, unspoken directly to me, they were happy to have Moyock leave. I suspected there were a few who would like to see the back of me too.

  So I wouldn’t have to waste a lot of ammunition during the trip, I was anxious to teach Moyock to shoot before we left, I explained to him, “We’ll be traveling among people who’ve never seen our guns and metal tools. We need to use our bows for hunting. Because we can only carry a limited amount of powder and ammunition, I don’t propose to fire our guns except in dire situations. I think it best to keep our steel knives and hatchets out of sight of people who don’t have such things.”

  I still didn’t know who tried to kill me with an arrow. I again asked Captain Argyll for the name of the other late passenger. “My logs and records for that trip are back in London.” He was on his third voyage to Jamestown. “As best as I can recall, ‘is name was Jones. Maybe Henry Jones. I’ve not seen ‘im ‘ere at Jamestown since we first arrived.”

  Any time I was out alone, not knowing who or where Jones was, kept me on edge. A man could hide anywhere in these thick forests. One day as I rode my gelding south along the shore of the settlement, the horse nickered and shied away from the woods. He doesn’t startle easy. Something is afoot. Then I heard movement in the brush. A man rose and aimed a matchlock at me. His shot whistled past my head. I dropped to the beach. Using my horse for a shield I scrambled to the edge of the woods. The man stood and fired his pistol at me. A poor shot, only nicked my shoulder.

  Now I knew where the villain was. I jumped back on my horse. Shouting like a berserk hyena, I charged. He made the mistake of trying to load again. We came hard against him before he could aim his piece. My gelding smashed right into him…threw him against a good sized tree. My only weapon this close to the camp was my hatchet. I leaped off my charger prepared to smash in his skull. There was no need. His chest was severely damaged. He was a goner. Still alive, his eyes opened. Gasping, “The devil take ye’ Englishman! Curse ye’ for hunting the Welsh!” He had to know I was after the Holy Grail! He died.

  I dragged him back to Jamestown. I made the mistake of telling Captain Smyth exactly what he said with his dying breath.

  “This is seemingly strange. Twice he tries to kill you. Jones, I reckon, is a Welsh name, and why did you hunt them?”

  “I think he must have been daft. I didn’t know him, and I‘ve never been to Wales. P’raps there were renegade Welshmen among the Germans I’ve killed.”

  “Aye. Well now we’ll never know for sure .”

  Preparing for our trip, Moyock and I loaded as much as we dared on the third horse. To carry food and ammunition, we rigged some bags behind my saddle and back of Moyock’s seat. For trade goods I packed hatchets, small knives, packs containing tobacco, some colorful cloth, and bells, beads and copper gewgaws.

  Argyll wasn’t happy to see my horses again. “The best part is ye’ won’t be with me long. I ken I’m to drop ye’ off well up the Potomac. When I put ye’ ashore, I hope ye’ don’t attract anymore unhappy natives. Might not be able to save yer hide next time.”

  A storm and rough water out on Cheasapek Bay reminded me of the Atlantic. Once again I studied the waves closer than I wanted too. If I was sick, poor Moyock thought he felt too bad to live. “Squire…Squire…my insides will be the next thing up…and the last.”

  A nearby sailor laughed. “Then I ‘spect you’ll turn inside out! Hang in there, boy. No one dies from seasickness.”

  “But I want to. I want too.”

  “You’ll get over it,” I said. “First time at sea I was so sick I thought I’d cough up my balls, but I lived. So will you.”

  I felt the boy’s misery very keenly. The next day sunshine and the relatively calm of the river mouth eased our pain. With twists in the river, and a cautious approach over an unknown bottom, we were three days in reaching the falls.

  In making our way north, I planned to stay as close to the river as possible. To delay any suspicions on the part of Argyll, I explained that I would continue along the river until close to the distant hills…before turning south.

  Soon we came upon a Natural village of an unknown tribe. The only people there were the too old to travel. I suspected the rest knew about the ship only three miles away. And here were strange White Men with strange animals entering their village. We proceeded slowly. Moyock signaled to an old man that we were friendly. I broke out a pipe and offered the old one a smoke. Within minutes people cautiously approached us from the woods.

  Since we had most of the day before us, I didn’t want to spend anymore time here than necessary. Moyock’s sign language explained our need to move on. These people were stunned by our appearance. Thankfully they were afraid of the horses. I distributed some tobacco to the important men, then swung up in my saddle to leave. They were delighted when Moyock leapt to the back of his horse and rode without a saddle.

  We followed the river till an hour before sunset. We could see where the river made a turn north and decided to camp. Now I explained to Moyock the real reasons for our trek; about the Welsh and Holy Grail,.

  “What you do if Welsh want to keep this fancy cup?”

  “Since they stole it, I’ll just have to convince them of the error of their ways.”

  “Hah. You think you just talk them out of it?” Moyock was more amused than concerned. For him this was just a jolly adventure.

  “What ever it takes, we’ll get it back.”

  My spooky red-head returned that night with her hair in whorls above her ears. Her face was turned slightly away from me. I thought she meant to lead me somewhere. When I awoke her image still haunted my puzzled brain.

  The next few days we followed the course of the Potomac. At a break in the hills, another big river flowed from the south into it. Here the Potomac turned a definite north through hilly country. Often by staying on the higher ground we were able to see bends in the river. We saved time by skirting the elbows. Some days traveling fast through wide valleys, on others slowed down by the hilly terrain, we never lost sight of the river.

  On a dark gloomy day, heavy overcast and occasional drizzle, I began to feel that twitch on my back that someone or something, was behind me; that someone was watching me. We followed a narrow trace along a mountainside. Above us the forest was broken up with patches of boulders strewn by an ancient hand. Ahead of us our path appeared to twist among them. Down hill was more open, but too steep to ride across. I stopped to look at the trail ahead and listen. I looked back at Moyock. He said, “A doe ran scared above us.”

  Not a good sign. Something frightened it. Well, I didn’t know of anything that ought to scare us. Seeing nothing or no one, I pushed forward. “Keep your eyes open for any other movement.”

  “Above us! Above us!”

  ” HAAhhhh yayaya! ”

  A grotesque figure sprang out on a rock above me. Leaping and screaming it jabbed a spear at me! I knocked it aside! The demon missed. Howling and dancing about, other Naturals appeared above and behind us. I fired at the leader. Missed. The thunder of my flintlock brought religion to suddenly frozen warriors. I fired my pistol, causing en masse retreat back up into the woods. Behind me I saw Moyock’s horse stumble and fall down the hill.

  There was no use in trying to follow the villains up the rocky and thickly wooded hillside. Once I was sure they no longer threatened us, I turned my attention to Moyock. Downhill, he was standing, but this horse was not. Farther along I saw a shallower grade, so leading the two horses, I brought them down to Moyock’s level. He was shaking his arm.

  “What happened?”

  “Demon threw rock. Struck horse’s leg. Make her stumble. We slide down hill. I leap off. I not hurt bad.”

  Moyock‘s arm was injured but not broken. The horse was not so lucky. The compound fracture of a front leg meant her day was over. Her almost c
rying noises prompted me to reload my pistol and dispatch her to horse heaven. Not forgetting the banshees, I reloaded both weapons.

  I cleaned Moyock’s forearm as best I could. It quit bleeding and he could move it. As young and healthy as he was, I figured at worse his arm might be stiff for a few days. I didn’t want to remain in such a vulnerable situation. We loaded as much as we could, of the dead animals pack, onto our remaining horses and set out again. We left behind some goods that I regretted our tormentors would get. I wondered if they would eat horseflesh?

  When it became evident that the river was turning south, we set out away from it in a northwesterly direction. Naturals we talked to along the way were certain great rivers lay in that general direction.

  After several days we came upon the largest village we’d seen in our travels. It sat on the shore of a ‘Big River.’ Scouts met us at some distance. After determining we weren’t warlike, they escorted us in to the town center. With Chief Canawaha and other important men we smoked and talked. Moyock carried the burden with sign language. I distributed tobacco. The Chief said, “We not see White Man before. Not know White Men in world. Not hear of White Man living along river.”

  “If no White Men called Welsh, maybe I’m on a wild goose chase. Are there other big rivers around here?”

  “None we know of. Only this Oh-Hi-Oh. I think you not know where to go. You welcome here.”

  Deciding to stay for awhile, we arranged for space in one of their wikkiups. To recover from the rigors of three weeks of mountain travel, I thought it best to rest for at least a week.

  After getting over the initial shock of us strange critters, the villager’s curiosity overcame any initial fear they had of us. They treated as honored guests and invited to live with them. It was a tempting offer.

  What made staying very tempting was a string of nocturnal visitors who slipped into my pallet. The first time I was so surprised I nearly hollered out. However, before doing anything stupid, I felt that the form next to me was very feminine and very naked. I proceeded to bring credit to Cavalrymen every where.

  In the dark I couldn’t identify individual women who visited me. I suspect it was a different one each night. Word spread among them, because after I introduced kissing to the first one, they all wanted it. Perhaps they arranged a schedule among them, maybe even drawing lots for the pleasure of my bed. During the day I never saw any sign of recognition from my female guests.

  I dare say that Moyock, who was sleeping in the same room, learned much about the ways of women of the world. He certainly kept his ears open around the camp.

  “Squire, your white skin and beard, mysterious thunder stick, riding horses; these people think you have powerful spirit. They think you have strong medicine. None of the men tall as you. Those women want your babies. Their men send them to you.”

  Lucky for me, those people didn’t share our rigid morality about chastity and marriage vows. Otherwise…those husbands would have been after my scalp…or worse!

  Moyock said, “Maybe this tribe traces family through mother. Maybe not important who father is. Husband happy if wife have strong sons. Wife’s children his. Not matter who beds wife.”

  Well into our second week with the Pensyca, my evening idylls took an unexpected turn. I busily aroused my bedmate, whispering, kissing her, tonguing her nipples and stroking inside her thighs. My finger came upon an unexpected barrier. She was a maiden! The attentions of my mouth, finger and thumb had her so excited she could hardly lay still. I wasn’t about to waste her flower on my finger, so I presented my stallion to her mare. Eagerly she accepted it. She squirmed to aid it’s entrance…until it struck the barrier. She froze and exclaimed, “ Oh .”

  I stopped pushing, but stayed in place. I whispered to calm her down. When she relaxed some, my stallion continued his foray until he conquered virgin territory. She jerked and sniffled a bit, but kept her arms around me until the deed was done. Afterwards I held her close and whispered some more. She couldn’t understand my words but must have felt comforted. She left before daylight.

  Next morning, a beautiful sunny day, I was sitting in a circle of men by the beach and enjoying a smoke. I heard a ruckus of angry voices from deep back in the village. I couldn’t understand what was being said. Soon, Moyock ran up to me.

  “Squire, Squire, beware. You in big trouble. Angry man is shouting about you.”

  Before I could ask what about, a chunky man strode toward us dragging a naked young girl by the arm. From the blood on her thighs I suspected we were acquainted. In his right hand the man was waving one of their flint knives. Standing in front of me he continued shaking the girl and haranguing the crowd. Staying calm, taking my time, I stood up and faced him. Without taking my eyes from him I asked Moyock what he was saying.

  “Rapid Raccoon say you de-flower girl. You have no right. He say it his privilege to deflower wife’s daughter. You can not do. He want you punished. He want to cut off your cock and balls!”

  Was retribution for a number of irate fathers and jealous husbands catching up with me? Not if I had anything to do with it. “Tell him I didn’t seek out his daughter. She came to me.”

  The man calmed down until Moyock finished explaining, then got het-up again.

  “He say that not matter. You have taken his privilege. You have disgraced him. He want revenge. He want warriors to tie you up so he can cut off your manhood.”

  While all this talk was going on, I kept an ear open, and half an eye on reaction of the men around me. If anything they appeared mildly amused. No one stood up to grab me. No one took his side until three young men in the crowd rushed up to grab me.

  I drew my steel sheath knife and waved it at them. Now they circled me. I kept fending them off. I lunged at one. He stepped away. Because I missed, was off balance, the other two jumped me. On the ground I twisted and stabbed one of them in the shoulder. He groaned and rolled away holding his arm. The second one was still on top. I freed my wrist from his grip and slashed across his face. He hung onto my arm. The first one tried to kick my head. I twisted and he kicked his friend. I threw off the kickee…sprang up to attack the kicker. He backed off.

  The older men I’d been smoking with had withdrawn to watch the activities. I faced Rapid Raccoon again. “Hah. You want to unman me. Three children come to do your work. Hah. I am right here in front of you. Are you man enough to fight your own battle?”

  “I will fight you…and I will unman you. You have strange powerful knife with much magic.” He was all talk. He didn’t step towards me. “I have only flint knife. No matter. After I cut you, I kill you!”

  He didn’t sound confident. I threw my knife at Moyock’s feet. “Keep this for me. I don’t need a knife to defend myself against a man in women’s kilt.”

  Enraged at the insult, Raccoon sprang for me. He was no knife fighter. Holding his flint high instead of low, he sought to slash down at me. I stepped back…His blade whistled past my chest…He drew back…and tried the same technique. Again I stepped back…to fall over one of his friends crouching behind me! With both feet I kicked the tripper…and blocked Raccoon from leaping on me. Springing to my feet in a crouch…I charged Raccoon. He swung down with his knife…Big mistake…I stepped into his rush…trapped his arm…broke it…and threw him down. His knife flew out of his hand. He was writhing in pain. To his credit he didn’t cry out. I poised over him with his own knife.

  Chief Canawaha came near me. “I think he has been punished for his threat to you. You may kill him, but you gain no honor for it. I think he is out of his senses. He was crazy to attack you for his foolish pride.”

  I dropped Raccoon’s knife near him, and said to the Chief. “You speak with the wisdom of your years. I honor your words. I have no further anger for Raccoon. Perhaps we can finish our smoke.”

  During our week, finally two weeks, Moyock and I studied this tribe’s language and way of life. Chief Canawaha said this village was part of a larger tribe called Pensyca. Thei
r wikkiups were similar to those around Jamestown. In open places along the river, or in the woods, they planted beans, squash, pumpkins and watermelon. Sunflowers were harvested for their oil. Like the Powhatan, they also ate wild berries. They traded for one called ‘cranberry,’ with which I wasn’t familiar. Claimed to be healthy, they tasted sour. The Pensyca crushed and mixed the cranberries with honey.

  What really impressed us were the canoes they paddled on the river. Instead of dugout logs like the Powhatan made, these were constructed of birch bark fastened around a frame of saplings. Very light and easily propelled, they were tied together with black spruce root, and caulked with pitch. Once Moyock and I developed the balance needed, we paddled like veterans.

  After a river outing Moyock said to me: “Squire, we could never get our horses in one of those canoes.”

  “So? What for? What ever gave you that idea?”

  “We could travel much faster on the river.”

  “Perhaps, but to carry the horses we’d need a large boat, or even a raft. We don’t have the skill or means to build such a vessel.”

  “We could load all of our goods in two of those canoes. Why bother with the horses?”

  “Give up the horses? Are yer daft? Whoever heard of a cavalry man giving up his horses to…carry goods…on a river? Perish the thought!”

  But the thought didn’t perish. Young Moyock had a good head on him. His suggestion, distasteful as it was, warranted consideration.

  Now I was torn with a big decision. It appeared that floating down the rapid river made more sense than following the wooded shore on our two remaining horses. As a cavalry man, the thought of parting with the steeds bothered me. Horses were a way of life with me. Would I regret giving them up later? Probably. I didn’t know.

  After a long palaver, the Naturals agreed to swap their two largest canoes for the two horses. Then we spent two days training them to use the horses. Some were afraid of my animals. Two young warriors, following Moyock’s example, soon learned how to leap on the horse’s back without falling off. Using my saddle, one of the Chiefs proved he could ride that way.