The Legend of Long Knife

The Legend of Long Knife Ch-01

(2,995)

         It was 1588, already a year at the colony, and 22 year old Adam Thomas had finally despaired of his dream of fame and fortune from the voyage. It’d taken everything he had to convince the leader, John White, to allow him to make this trip, having grudgingly earned his passage on the ship through his expertise with the sword. At 6 foot, 2 inches tall, he was a giant amongst his shipmates, and his long reach gave him an advantage with the sword that few mastered.


         Adam carried few things with him, some clothing, his sword, and longbow. The bow was intended for hunting, his arrows manufactured from local resources. A bag of iron arrowheads made up the rest of his meager baggage. From the primitive forge at the fort, he parlayed his 2-year apprenticeship at the Devon Ironworks into more, whenever enough ore was available.

         Armed men were a premium at the fort, once the military adjutant of the colony had angered the tribal nation that lived nearby. They were refusing to assist the colonists as they had previously, instead they observed a tense neutrality.

         He’d put his hunting skills to good use, providing sustenance to the colony, and memorized the ‘lay of the land’ in the surrounding forests. Important lessons; where it was safe to hunt, how to pass through dangerous areas stealthily enough to escape detection by the local tribes. Not only for the survival of the colony, he mused.

         Despite his success as a hunter and guard for the colony, Adam noticed that the group’s adjutant, Ralph Lake, treated him with contempt, often sending him on dangerous missions into Indian territory. While easy enough in the summer and fall, the winter snows dropping soft, powdery snow on the ground made the task problematic.

         One of the few married men within the fort, Lake enjoyed the company of his beautiful wife, Martha. Adam noted however, that she avoided the affections of her husband, preferring instead the company of the younger men in the fort. She somehow managed to be wherever Adam was working while in the fort, and Lake believed that they were involved in an affair, which wasn’t true.

         Adam was grateful for time in the forests and surrounding areas, and the opportunity to hunt, fish and trap in the woods beyond the stockade. His ache for the companionship of a woman was often vented by opportunities to bathe in a small whirlpool that he’d discovered after he arrived, on the small Pananioch tributary of Croetan Sound. It allowed him to avoid the stench and filthy bathtubs at the fort, and gave him opportunities to shake the juice out of his congested balls in complete privacy.



         In the forest checking the traps he’d set one day, Adam bumped into a small Indian hunting party. Standing no less than ten feet from four armed Indians, his heart leapt into his throat. Armed only with his sword and his longbow, he noted they didn’t seem too happy to see him.

         Instinctively, he smiled, waved, and strolled past them as if this was a common event. Glancing back, they were gone, vanished back into the woods. He felt this might have saved his life that day. The rest of that day was uneventful, and as his heart returned to its normal rate, he visited his traps, reset them and returned to the fort.

         He still encountered natives, but now they’d stop, smile and wave at him as he passed. While that initially made him uncomfortable, as the weeks passed, he became more accustomed to the gesture. In the cooling days of October, a breaking event took place.

         Returning to the fort with prey he’d collected from his traps one afternoon, he met a contingent of Indian warriors on the path to the fort compound. It was clear that they’d been waiting for him, and while they were armed as usual, he sensed no hostile intent.

         Dropping his catch, he straightened, and looked at the leader. Concealed from the fort, he was still vulnerable, but he’d come to feel safe with the natives over the past few months, so he showed no fear in their presence.

         The leader approached, tapped him on his chest, pointed to the catch, then to themselves. Stepping back, he motioned the other braves forward, who displayed some corn, squash and beans, little of which the colony possessed. Placing them on the ground in front of him, they stepped back, folding their arms.

         His catch this time around had been very productive, and if he was right, they wanted to exchange their goods for his. Flashing a smile, he nodded and handed over his catch for the day. They in turn, smiled back and dropped the rest of their barter in a large pile at his feet. This was a good day, Adam thought.



         Oddly, his ability to return trade to the colony’s relationship with the natives didn’t endear him to the authorities. They still gathered up the tributes from the Indians that fall however. Now that he’d become an object of discussion in the colony, another problem arose.

         Martha had made Adam the object of her attentions, and the adjutant took notice of it immediately. Things became very edgy in the fort, and he was forced by his sense of safety to spend more time away from the colony.


         Now, spring in the colony, Adam approached his bathing pool. He was surprised by the sound of splashing and shrieks of laughter coming from the area. Creeping up, he parted the bushes and discovered a couple of native women enjoying his sanctuary. A bit disappointed that he’d lost his secret, he was still curious about these women.

         These two ladies were—beautiful—in a unique way, nude, and quite carefree. One was a bit stout, but her figure was proportionate to her height.

         The other was tall, a bit over average for the Indians in this area, and her skin was flawless, and very light. Long, shimmering black hair, a curvaceous body, and standing not 30 feet from him, her laughter was music to his ears. Gazing at her full, firm breasts, water trickling between them down her body into her pubic area, Adam felt the full impact of his monastic existence in his groin, an intense erection, swelling on its own.

         He’d remembered seeing her when a party had visited the fort to trade skins, and the deference that her people had given her. An inquiry later revealed that her name was Pauwau, which in their own language meant ‘witch.’

         The face that flashed before him now was regal, even haughty. The aquiline nose swept down to a full pair of lips, now pulled into a wide grin as she splashed in the water with her companion. More shocking, was the glimpse of her eyes, emerald green, like the forest, and her reputation amongst her people became clear. Caution left him as he allowed the vision facing him to capture his complete attention. The bushes concealing him were all that separated him from the pond.

         He spent a few moments allowing his emotions to wash over him. Reaching down, he was just about to untie his trousers, when he felt a prickle up the back of his neck, an indication that something wasn’t right. Grabbing his bow, and notching an arrow, he listened for sounds other than those coming from the bathing women.

         His attention was drawn to a thud from the other side of the bushes behind which he was hiding, and a rustling sound. Moving around the concealment, he saw a warrior laying face down on the bank, blood seeping from a large wound on his head. Screams from the women snapped his eyes back to the pond.

         Two warriors, who had apparently dispatched the man on the ground, had rushed into the water to assault the women, and Adam knew this day would change his life. One warrior had reached the taller woman, who had stepped up to shield her companion from the onslaught.

         By the time Adam had raised his bow to take his shot, she’d slapped and punched the attacker back a few steps. However, as her attention focused upon her own assailant, she had lost track of the second one. He had been after her companion, but seeing his partner in trouble, he soon directed his attention to her.

         Adam’s heart was in his throat, but he knew what he needed to do. Raising his bow, he loosed his first shot at the taller woman’s attacker, placing an arrow under his exposed right armpit. Fatally injured, her attacker collapsed into the water. Before Adam could notch another arrow, he heard movement behind him, and turned just in time to dodge the blow of a war club directed at his head.

         Dropping his bow, he pulled out his sword, and parried the next blow from his attacker. He heard screams behind him, but now, it was a fight for his own life, and had no intention of going down without exacting a high price. If this was going to be the end, he thought; why not create a legend?

         The two turned into five, and soon they had him surrounded, but not trapped. He struck out with his sword, repeatedly, and in a matter of a few frantic minutes, all but one had been dispatched, no match for his skill. Thankfully, all they’d had were war clubs, clumsy against his sword.

         Glancing towards the pond, he noted the women had crossed the river and a group of their tribe had assembled on the bank to receive them. The one remaining enemy was exceptional however. His club was wielded like a whirlwind, and exhausted, Adam began to wear down, catching more of the blows on his arms and shoulders.

         When Adam thought he could raise his sword no more, the warrior stepped in to administer the final blow, confident that he’d put an end to him. Raising his club, he left himself exposed for the first time during their duel, and Adam used the last of his strength to thrust the sword into his assailant’s chest. The last thing he remembered was the club, still descending on his head.


         Stabbing pain invaded Adam’s consciousness, refusing to go away. Carefully opening his eyes, he expected to be dead, or back in the fort. Darkness greeted his view, but the pungent smell of smoke and leather assaulted his senses. One other thing he noticed was a warm, soft body embracing his.

         Naked, aside from a skin thrown over him, a quick mental inventory of his condition told him that there was a hand lying across his pubic hair. However, his limbs were not confined, a fact that gave him some hope. Inhaling slowly, he noted more delicate scents of spice, leather, accompanied by the soft musky smell of a woman. Despite the pain, he felt his groin responding to this contact. It was dark, but he knew this wasn’t the fort, so he suspected that he had been taken prisoner by the savages.

         The body next to him was also naked, pressed up against his side, and providing comfortable warmth to his body on this cool night. Afraid to move, he tried to see through the darkness to assess his surroundings, but saw nothing. He was sure if he woke whoever it was that was curled up alongside him, they’d raise an alarm, so he lay still on the skins to wait until daylight.

         One inescapable fact ran paramount; this WAS a woman lying next to him. Occasionally she would sigh in her sleep and move her hand over his cock, and through his pubic hair. The effect was inevitable, and his erection threatened to expose his consciousness to her. Despite the pain, his hips began to flex involuntarily, first to move away from her caress, but soon giving in to her manipulations.

         The hand grasped his erection, examining it’s length and hardness with a careful and deliberate touch. She was awake, he knew. Soft lips began to nibble at his chest, and the unseen hand began to stroke his cock. Long empty nights were betraying him, as his congested balls tingled in anticipation of his impending explosion. He reached to the hand surrounding his cock, forcing it to stop, before he went over the edge.

         He heard a growl, and then felt teeth biting into his chest as the woman pulled herself onto his waist, breaking loose from his grip. Pushing back on his shoulders, she reawakened the pain in his body, and he lay back, feeling her weight settling onto his belly. He felt her reach between her legs to grasp his cock once more, but this time to guide it to her drenched pussy. Then, she dropped, partially impaling herself on his erection, and he flinched in pain. She was NOT as experienced as he’d suspected.

         His cry of pain matched hers in the darkness, but she stifled hers in a gasp and dropped again onto his cock, this time breaking through her barrier and settling onto his groin. After a few long moments, he heard her breathing calm down, and she began to slide herself up and down his shaft, slowly at first, but soon fell into a nice rhythm that turned his pain into a gentle numbness.

         If torture, this was strange, even not knowing much about Indian customs. He put his hands on her hips, guiding her motions on his body, knowing that he couldn’t hold out much longer. Soon however, her pace became more frantic, and very vocal. He knew then that there could be no doubt to anyone within hearing distance what was happening.

         He felt her drop onto his chest, and sink her teeth into his shoulder to stifle her scream, but the combination of hers and his at the same moment of orgasm resulted in bringing someone into the front of the hut, holding a torch.

         At last, he could see his assailant; she was the taller of the two women that he’d encountered at the pond, Pauwau. Her face was soaked in sweat, strands of her hair were stuck to it, but she never released her hold on him. Oddly, he didn’t want her to. Her emerald eyes mirrored his ice blue eyes. She looked into his soul, he thought.

         The torch holder was a crone, approaching the couple cautiously. Adam could make out enough to sense she was unarmed, but was surprised by what she did next.

         Lifting the skin covering himself and the woman, she pushed her hand between them to where they were joined, and groped around. Then she cackled and left the hut. Adam had seen what she’d had on her hand in the torchlight before she shuffled away; semen and blood, a lot. Curious, he thought. His companion had dropped her head to his chest, and he felt her shaking.

         Puzzled, he thought she was crying, and brought his hands to her shoulders to comfort her. As she clung to him, there was a commotion outside the hut, giving him more concern. An ancient Indian stepped forward with great dignity, followed by the crone. Adam saw a wide leather strap in his hand, decorated with beads of seashell.

         Bending over them, he looped the strap around her right wrist and Adam’s left, and tied it off. Straightening, he led the entourage back out into the darkness. It was then that he understood that his strange companion had been both laughing and crying! With her head tucked under his chin, and the soft scent of spice in his nostrils, he fell into an exhausted sleep.


         His bruises healed, and after a couple weeks, he returned to the fort, but this time to collect his meager belongings, and leave for good. Marriage was a strange thing for him, but the benefits outweighed the drawbacks. On his return to the fort, he was surprisingly fired upon by the defending soldiers before gaining entrance. Nerves were frayed in the fort, and thankfully, that hadn’t improved their aim he thought.

         The language came to him gradually, but between signs and speech, Adam put together what had happened that eventful day.

         The leather strap was the marriage ceremony, sealed upon consummation. Why her? No one else in the tribe would even try to tame this woman. She was thought to be a curse on men. Adam had killed an entire raiding party, saving the two women, who had been bathing under the watchful eyes of the slain guard. She was ‘touched’ by the gods, they said, capable of drawing magic from nature to bless or curse the tribe. But now, she had selected him as her mate.

         To him, she was just a headstrong young woman, and the ‘magic’ she used was a way of keeping the rest of the tribe at bay.


          “Long Knife” guided his mate slowly alongside the Chowanoke River in search of the great chief Wahunsunacawh. Even pregnant, he noted proudly that she doggedly carried her portion of their equipment without protest. Their reputations had swept ahead of them, and the recounting of their exploits ensured their safety from hostilities on their way.

         He’d come back one day to see the fort, Long Knife mused, but first there was a world to see. Roanoke will have to wait for him. Then, taking Pauwau’s hand, he wondered if their child would have blue eyes and blond hair, or favor her side.


         Years later, settlers from the new colony of Jamestown met up with natives from the north, and marveled to tales of exploits of the giant Chief Long Knife, and his squaw Pauwau, a forest witch, and their fair haired, blue and green-eyed children. It was said that the great Chief Powhatan, had granted them all lands to the far west to remove a threat to his own power.


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