Eye of the Raven by Eliot Pattison Read Free Book Online Page A

having reported to your family that Conawago was hanged for the murder of your cousin, when we later find that the real murderer was someone who knew him?"
    Hadley gazed up in confusion. His jaw opened and shut, but no words came out.
    The bearded sergeant was looking directly at Duncan now, his eyes flaring. Duncan bent to the young Virginian's shoulder. "Go to the guardhouse at midnight," he hurriedly instructed. "Tell your man there you are relieving him."
    The sergeant shoved his way through the throng of men, grabbed a piece of firewood for a club, and was halfway to Hadley's log by the time Duncan disappeared into the shadows.
    The sentry argued with Hadley only a few moments before shouldering his musket and marching off into the moonlight. The company clerk was probably the youngest of the Virginian troop, and his every movement betrayed his lack of seasoning. But he was of the Burke clan, and the guard was of the Burke company. Duncan watched from the shadows for five minutes before approaching the earthen ramp, his eyes not on Hadley but on the sleeping provost guard slumped on a stool against the wall at the jail entrance. Duncan put his fingers to his lips as he reached the Virginian, who grimaced but lifted the solitary lantern from a peg on the wall and followed. They paused when they reached another peg near the strap iron door that held a single large key.
    "Tell me why I am doing this?" Hadley asked in an anxious whisper.
    "Because, like me, you seek the truth."
    "All I seek," came Hadley's sullen reply as he lifted the key and opened the door, "is a quick return to Virginia."
    Inside there were no more doors, only several low vaulted chambers carved out of rock and earth. The first two held empty gunpowder kegs. Duncan almost passed over the pile of rags at the rear of the third chamber but then glimpsed the familiar pattern of red beads along the edge of a piece of soiled linen.
    A despairing cry escaped his lips as he turned his friend over. Conawago's right eye was nearly swollen shut, the whole right side of his face an ugly mass of bruises and cuts. Duncan unbuttoned Conawago's shirt to reveal more contusions and a swollen, oozing lump over the left side of his rib cage. Duncan's probing brought a gasp of agony from Conawago. His good eye fluttered open. It seemed to take great effort for him to focus on Duncan. "That Onondaga was right," he said in a hoarse whisper. "The gods are not happy with me."
    Duncan fought against a surge of emotion. The ribs under the swollen lump were badly bruised, if not cracked. Conawago's leggings were torn, the gaps revealing more bloody abrasions. His right hand was clenched. Conawago groaned as Duncan raised it. The little finger hung at an unnatural angle.
    "They tried to take the other one after they destroyed the first," the Indian said, wincing with each exhalation. "But I was disinclined to release her. She's old and worn like me, but one day she may speak to the other gods for me." He had let his assailants break his finger, Duncan realized, rather than release the little clay deity.
    But now his friend opened his hand and extended the figure to Duncan. "She needs to go outside. Do you have my things? The pouch of ochre?"
    Duncan nodded, then lifted a ladle of water left on a stool beside Conawago and pressed it to his lips.
    The old Nipmuc sipped, then coughed, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Good," he said after a moment. "Take her now and put her in a little circle of that ochre in a pool of moonlight. Someone should sit with her to say words of comfort. If I were able I would sit with her all night."
    "We will do it together soon."
    Conawago somehow managed a smile. "Sit with her, tell her the last of the Nipmucs lived with honor." His good hand reached onto the straw to grip something else, the little fur amulet given him by Skanawati.
    "No. We will do it together," Duncan repeated.
    Conawago coughed again, closing his eyes as if to gather his strength.