Joachim's Magic, page 7
Reis tried to remember the strange sounding Hebrew words, “Baruch atah Adonai…,” but he forgot the rest and sleep overcame him.
They were up at the dawn’s breaking and packed quickly. The fire was quenched and soon they were on the move. Reis’s stomach rumbled and groaned in protest. He saw no signs of anyone stopping for the midday meal either and he thought, ‘If I don’t eat soon I will lose my senses.’ It was not until the sun was way low in the sky that Master Amadas called a halt and they built a second crude camp. The men were footsore as well, and grumbling from the emptiness in their stomachs. Ralph Lane sent Valentine Beale and Master Greutter to find a deer or perhaps, some rabbits. Reis was sent to the river’s edge to try his skill at fishing. He was lucky and caught three fat ones. The men greeted his return most enthusiastically and soon a roaring fire was going and the fish, cleaned and gutted, were skewered above it. Master Greutter’s voice hailed them from the forest’s edge and he and Valentine Beale strode into camp holding two plump hares and shouldering a very young doe.
Reis felt comforted by the sight and sound of these hearty men. Master Amadas professed to know the country, having traveled here the prior year and he was discussing which route they should follow with Thomas Hariot. Captain Vaughan was arguing the merits of bronze for use in cannons.
“We prefer bronze,” he stated emphatically, “for it is much stronger.”
“We must first find the copper,” said Dougham in his quiet voice.
“But that ist vy ve haf you, mein fine Master Gaunse,” Greutter’s voice was full of sarcasm. “You are the expert, ist not so?”
Dougham nodded slightly.
“If you say so, Master Greutter.”
“I say,” said Master Greutter, “und vat I say ist true, you are the expert. For that ve tolerate your presence among us, though ve could find this copper by ourselves, ich bin mir sicher.”
“Enough,” added Master Haring, coming over and giving Greutter a look. The latter moved further away from Dougham to the other side.
“Never mind him,” Haring told Dougham. “He ist bad-mannered, that ist all.”
“More than that,” muttered Dougham and got up, walking back to his favorite place near the trees.
Reis got up to relieve himself. He was turning to go when he heard a rustling in the brush. His heart leaped in his chest. A Savage, it was another Savage come to grab him and cut his throat or throttle him, the way the other had tried to do with Jeremie. His mouth was so dry he couldn’t call out nor say a single word. He wanted to run and warn the others but….
“It’s me,” whispered a small voice.
“Who?”
“Me, Jeremie,” and from behind the very bush where Reis was standing there stepped his young friend. Jeremie’s clothing was torn and his face and hands scratched. Reis grabbed him, he was so relieved.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were a hostile come to attack me.”
“I’m sore afraid.” Jeremie’s voice was low and fearful. “I’ve been following you ever since you left the camp, staying out of sight. Please don’t tell them I’m here.”
“Master Lane will surely be angry that you followed without his permission.”
“I know.”
Jeremie hung his head, looking miserable. “But I couldn’t stay. I just had to come. I don’t think it’s fair that I couldn’t come.”
“I shall tell Master Lane you’re here.”
“No, don’t!”
Jeremie grabbed his arm. “If you do, he’ll surely send me back.”
“He can’t send you back, silly. Now that you’re here he would never let you go back alone. It’s far too dangerous.”
Reis paused to look at Jeremie.
“And how did you find us? Where did you sleep?”
“I followed your trail. And I slept as close to you as I dared. It was terribly cold and damp. And I’m starving.”
Reis went back to the fire and returned to where Jeremie was hiding. He handed him some pieces of fish and meat.
“That’s all there is, so eat and be done. Then you must come with me into camp.”
“I dare not. They will all laugh at me. No, I’ll just stay out of sight and follow you. You can bring me food. And perhaps,” he shivered, “a blanket to wrap around myself.”
Jeremie looked so frightened and anxious that Reis didn’t have the heart to tell on him. He nodded slightly in agreement, then slipped back to camp. When he returned to Jeremie, he handed him the blanket.
“‘Tis my own. I’ll have to beg one from the others. Now don’t say a word and stay close.”
“I will,” Jeremie promised, nodding his head up and down. “I’m too afraid not to.”
Reis looked at his friend.
“I’ll have to think on this. I won’t say anything… yet.”
Jeremie wrapped the blanket around himself and settled down in a small heap.
“Don’t tell, remember, you promised.”
Reis bit his lip as he went back to the others. It was dangerous for Jeremie to be sleeping out there alone. Suppose there were Savages scouting the area? Suppose there were wolves? But Jeremie had made him promise. And there was always the chance Ralph Lane would, indeed, send him packing. And maybe he’d be so angry he’d send Reis as well. He decided to keep quiet for a while, then talk privately to Dougham. Maybe his master could then persuade the others to let Jeremie stay. It was the best plan he could think of at the moment. He borrowed a blanket from Master Haring, who didn’t seem to mind, and settled down for the night. The air was chill and he slept fitfully, hearing strange noises throughout the night. He wondered how Jeremie was faring on the far side of the brush, curled in his blanket and hoping no hostiles were around to grab him.
When he awoke the next morning, Reis looked over toward the bushes wondering if he could spot Jeremie. There was no sign of him. Perhaps he’d been dreaming after all, imagining the whole thing. Uncle Allyn had always called him “the dreamer,” and he’d oft been chastised for standing with his head in the clouds instead of working, just like poor Hugh with Master Snelling.
“Dreaming of what?” Uncle had asked but he’d said nothing.
“Dreaming of his fortune,” laughed his cousins, taunting him further for his foolish ways. That was when he’d resolved never to dream again and to make sure he did what he was told. But the dreams, if not stopping his work, kept swirling round and round inside his head. ‘I be a dreamer,’ he thought, ‘dreaming of getting out of here and to a world full of adventure.’ It was his dreams that had made him bold enough to step up to Dougham Gaunse that fateful morn in Surrey. And here he was!
But it was silly to think that Jeremie would have followed their tracks and slept alone for two nights. Reis shook his head to clear the cobwebs. No, he’d been dreaming, all right, of that he was sure! He rolled up the blanket and handed it to Master Haring, who shook his head.
“If yours ist lost, then use this. It freezes at night,” only he said, “nacht” instead of night. Reis nodded, for he was beginning to understand some of the German words.
He strapped the packs and equipment on, then realized he hadn’t eaten breakfast. There was only bread and stale biscuits and some greasy meat left, but it would suffice. He grabbed an extra biscuit and piece of meat, just in case… just in case….
“You are hungry?” Master Dougham commented.
Reis nodded and walked slowly over to the brush line. If he’d dreamt the whole thing, then nothing would be there. If not, Jeremie would be starving again. There was nothing behind the bush. Reis walked around a little more searching for a sign of his friend. Master Dougham called him over.
“Come now, we are leaving.”
Reis’s heart skipped a beat. Had the wolves grabbed Jeremie in the middle of the night? Had a hostile seized him? But he heard just then a faint “pssst!” and walked further. Jeremie was crouched behind a thick clump of bushes.
“I wasn’t dreaming…,” Reis began. Jeremie stared at him but didn’t say a word, for he had grabbed the food from Reis’s hand and stuffed it all in his mouth.
“We’re leaving,” he whispered. Jeremie nodded.
“Stay as close as you can without being seen.”
Again Jeremie nodded.
“I will talk with Dougham. Perhaps he’ll help us.”
They traveled until dark, not stopping for a break until the sun was sinking behind the low clouds on the horizon. A few flakes of snow were drifting down and Reis shivered. He thought constantly about poor Jeremie trudging behind, wondering if he could keep up, wondering if he’d changed his mind and turned back to the main encampment.
“You be lost in thought, boy,” called Master Hariot coming over and standing in front of him. “What can be on your mind?”
But when Reis didn’t say anything, he added,
“Perchance you should have stayed back with the others. ‘Tis a long and wearisome journey for a young boy.”
“No, sir,” Reis shook his head. “I can keep up. I wanted to come with you.”
“Indeed you did,” smiled Master Hariot. “For I saw how you kept pestering Dougham.”
Reis turned red again. How childish he must have seemed to this great man and the others, a foolish lad who whined to be taken along. He slipped out of his packs and started helping to set up the rude shelters. They shouldn’t think him a child or a burden. He pitched tents and hammered stakes until blisters popped on his hands. When at length the camp was rough and ready, he went to gather firewood for the night. Master Hariot watched him with an amused look. Even Dougham Gaunse tried not to smile.
“Your apprentice is full of great zeal tonight,” Sir Thomas remarked to Dougham.
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing, only that perhaps he might wish he’d remained and not ventured forth with us.”
Dougham nodded.
“A hard worker he is. I have no complaints that he comes with us.”
“He will grow to manhood quickly in this wild land.”
Dougham grunted and turned once more to his notes.
“I still wait to see signs of ore, but none so far.”
“Captain Vaughn has scouted ahead and reports a vein that might contain some copper.”
Dougham turned with an expectant look. “At last,” he said.
Reis wrapped himself in his blanket and listened to the howls of wolves in the distance and the low hooting of owls as they swooped to catch mice. He shivered continually until his own body’s heat warmed the air under the blanket. He was still hungry and he thought about Jeremie alone and cold, going without supper. As he drifted off to sleep his last two thoughts were of his friend huddled out in the trees, and that he was wrong for not telling the others about him.
CHAPTER 11
TROUBLE BREWING
MASTER GREUTTER WAS about to pick a fight with Dougham. It had been brewing for several days. Everyone knew it and oft times, Master Lane was forced to keep Greutter busy scouting ahead with Captain Vaughan and Valentine Beale, while Dougham walked alone notebook in hand, scribbling furiously all the while.
Reis kept as close to Dougham as his master would allow. Whenever they stopped, Dougham would go off toward the trees and squat down, writing and drawing his diagrams. At those times, Reis would slip out of his heavy packs and stretch his aching muscles. Then he’d run to fetch Master Dougham water, bread or vegetables, whatever he wanted. Sometimes Dougham accepted what he offered; other times he waved him away with an angry hand.
It was hard to figure out what his master really wanted. Mainly to be left alone to write his notes and draw his pictures, Reis thought. The pictures were always of furnaces, types of ore, smelting procedures. The notes were written in languages Reis couldn’t read other than English, sometimes Latin (for Master Hariot had told him that). Sometimes Dougham wrote in a peculiar script with strange symbols. And that, Sir Thomas had added, was probably Hebrew, the language of the Jews. Reis thought it wondrous that Dougham could write in so many different languages. He must be a very clever man, though from the looks of him one couldn’t ever tell. He wore his long black cape always and a hat which was pulled down low upon his forehead. His beard was black and bushy and his hair curled long by the sides of his ears, though he usually kept it hidden.
“You think I am strange?” Dougham asked one late afternoon when he caught Reis staring at him after he’d removed his hat for a few moments. Reis turned flaming red.
“Well?”
“No, sir… I just… well….”
“You stumble over your words, boy, like a child. Speak what is on your mind, for others always do.”
“Your hair is long and curling by your ears,” Reis finally blurted out. He could have bitten off his tongue. He waited for his master to get angry, but Dougham smiled instead.
“This is the custom of my people,” he finally replied, “to wear our hair long at the sides. These are called Payis. Do they offend you?”
“No, sir. It’s just different.”
“Thou shalt not round off the peya of your head.”
Reis didn’t understand the symbolism at all. Dougham put his hat back on,tucking the long strands under so they couldn’t be seen. He waved him away then and turned back to his notes. Reis was sure he had, indeed, offended him and made pains to guard his tongue, his obdurate tongue which seemed to have a mind of its own, always getting him into trouble with his master.
One evening when they had finished eating and all were still hungry for game was getting scarce, Master Greutter rose from where he’d been sitting and strode across the ground to Dougham Gaunse sitting on an outcrop of boulder. Dougham paid him no heed, which annoyed Master Greutter to the point where he leaned over and snatched the notebook from Dougham’s hands.
“Alvays writing, alvays so busy,” said Erhart Greutter’s voice, loud and booming. Master Hariot sprang instantly to the alert.
Dougham looked up without saying a word. He held out his hand for the notebook. Greutter began thumbing through it turning page after page.
“Vat ist this writing? I can not read a thing.”
“It is English, or Latin, or Hebrew,” replied Dougham. “It depends what is my fancy for the day.”
“Not German? That I can read.”
Greutter put the book close to his nose.
“It smells… it smells…,” he began.
“The only thing you smell,” Master Dougham said after a thoughtful moment, “is the stink of your own clothes.”
Master Greutter threw the notebook on the ground, pulled back his fist and knocked Dougham Gaunse right off the boulder. Reis gasped and waited to see what Dougham would do. So did the others except for Master Hariot, who walked swiftly over and grabbed Greutter’s arm.
“Enough,” commanded Thomas Hariot, clearly angry.
Dougham pulled himself to his feet and brushed the dirt from his cape. He held out his hand again and this time, with Sir Thomas glaring at him, Greutter thrust the book back.
“To your place,” said Master Hariot and Greutter grudgingly obeyed. He kept glancing over his shoulder at Dougham, who had resumed his seat upon the boulder and was once again calmly writing. When Reis went over he saw the big red mark on his master’s cheek where Greutter had hit him.
“Are you… all right?”
His master’s eyes flashed, the way they had flashed when he’d reminded Reis of his own words about Christ.
“Leave me.”
Reis went alone to the edge of the woods hoping to find Jeremie and give him some leftover food. He found the boy huddled under a bush, ravenously hungry. Jeremie grabbed the scraps and began devouring them.
“I told you there’d be trouble,” he whispered with his mouth full. It was hard to understand his words. “I saw the whole thing. Now your master will cast a spell over us all, but especially over Master Greutter.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They cast spells,” he hissed, “against people they don’t like.”
“Who told you that?”
“The others. They’re just waiting for your master to turn Greutter into a bat or a spider, just like a warlock.”
Reis frowned. Jeremie seemed so intense, how could he believe such nonsense?
“Hurry up and finish,” he said, “I have to go back.”
“… or worm turds,” Jeremie continued.
“That’s ridiculous…,” Reis started to say. Jeremie tugged on his arm.
“It’s true. They do that all the time. And they can become invisible, don’t you know. One moment they’re there, the next gone….”
Reis turned to go.
“Is there any more?” Jeremie whispered.
Reis shook his head. Jeremie wrapped the blanket tighter around him.
“I’m freezing,” he shivered. “Can you get another blanket?”
Reis walked away, his cheeks burning. It pained him to think of what the others were saying about his master. Spells indeed! It was more talk of witchery, no doubt led by Master Greutter. Reis clenched his fists, wishing that Dougham had taken his own swing at the German’s face. Or better yet, that Reis was older and bigger so he could do so himself. He bumped right into Ralph Lane.
“Watch yourself, lad, for your eyes are not fixed upon your destination.”
“Sorry, Master Lane.”
“And what were you so engrossed in, so deep in thought about?”
Reis shook his head, not wanting to talk to this great man about Dougham and what had just happened. Master Lane frowned.
“I saw what Greutter did,” he remarked. “‘Tis of no consequence.”
“No consequence,” Reis blurted out. “To hit someone…?”
“These are good men, but rough in their ways. They will knock a few heads about at times but all are professional. We have but two purposes, to find metals for England’s good and to put the fear of Almighty God into the Savages so they will not trouble us further.”
Reis went back to his place by the fire. When he next looked, Dougham was gone from the boulder and nowhere in sight. He went to Dougham’s tent and took an extra blanket, slipped back and handed it to Jeremie.
