CROATOAN: VIII The Journey

By James Olds

I am an ardent student of American history, as a matter of fact, that most colonists came here chasing a dream or more strongly we came chasing the essence of love, either in search of or escape from. This, then begs a closer examination of what this term "love" truly is. If we take the Biblical description of "love", which is probab

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brilliant Books Literary
• Release date: Feb 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889450634

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Copyright © 2023 by James Olds.

ISBN 979-8-88945-062-7 (softcover)

ISBN 979-8-88945-064-1 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88945-063-4 (ebook)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locales, events, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America.

Brilliant Books Literary

137 Forest Park Lane Thomasville

North Carolina 27360 USA

Preface

Istarted writing this book, maybe not for the standard reasons that a man might write a book, but, you see most of the men that I have had the fortune or misfortune of knowing in my life seem to be uncomfortable in discussing, even in the most casual of terms this basic concept of love. Perhaps it infringes or their concept of manhood, or for a myriad of different excuses. But, I have come to learn that there is one simple fact in life, we all seek to find our own concept of love. Even this begs the question, how do we, individualy, define love? By this very question, I don’t mean the preverbeal one night stand but rather the true definition of love as only our heart and our very soul can define. In my own personal quest I find that the 1990’s Bryan Adams song Everything, I do, I do it for you probably professes everything I mean by love. All my life I have searched for that one special person that we could truly wrap or embrace this moniker on. After three marriages, which I am not proud of, each time I thought I had finally found true person. One, in fact after eight and a half years of marriage and two children, I came to find did not even know the color of my eyes. After another marriage, I truly felt that I had found that one special person that shared this feeling with me. This is the person that I started writing this book for. I actually started the first chapter over several times and perhaps the first chapter, as one reviewer told me was rather academic but I felt that it lead in was necessary to present the proper image or tone for the remainder of the book. But, to my dismay, when I actually got about halfway through, I presented it to that one special person as a gift thinking that she would find it as precious as I did and what I was hoping for. When she did not even open it under the excuse of you know I don’t read anything unless I have to, I began to understand that my search continued. It was not until I was diagnosed with MS (Multiple Sclerosis) and lost even the ability to stand, that I relized that my efforts over the years was all one sided. This shocking development did not come bursting on to the screen until late one night, around 3 AM to be more exact, that this presumably the love of my life attempted to murder me with a pillow over my face! Now, to an ordinary person this may not sound that bad but to a quadriplegic, this is just as threatening as a gun or knife! At any rate, all of that can be for a different discussion.

In an attempt to describe my own personal search for love, I chose a part of American history that I fear may be lost on many. As an ardent student of American history and native to the Tidewater region of southeastern Virginia, I have had a long fascination when it comes to the issue of the lost colony. After numerous visits to the site, it appears to be most strange and intriguing that the colonists who were from the sixteenth-century urban England would place their strongest weapon, a ship’s cannon, pointing out to sea, rather than inland to provide some form of defense against the presence of hundreds of Native Americans that most textbooks fail to mention.

At any rate, as the book suggests, my search for true love continues, even though I am now confined to a wheelchair. I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as I had in writing it!

Chapter One

…the journey

The Genéralissimo recovered nicely under Charity’s care and was soon, up and about, much to the demise of the other house guests and wait staff. It also did not take him long for his sexual appetite to reemerge much to the distaste of Charity who seemed to be the target of his affection. It was during this course that Charity began to see his true nature which she found to be disgusting. Well versed in the art of survival, Charity would not openly display these sentiments. So endure she would and did for most of the winter. At the beginning of spring she noticed a change in him, a disturbing change. Virginia was now almost four years old and as typical four year old she was busy. This was not the disturbing thing; but what was disturbing was the amount of time that the Genéralissimo would spend with her. Even the house staff saw a problem with this knowing his penchant for young girls and boys.

Fear of his potential actions soon creped over her until one day she confronted him on the issue. It was near dusk and the Genéralissimo was seated in his favorite chair in his favorite spot on the veranda. He was seated with his back to the house and his highly polished riding boots propped up, as usual, on the handrail. He had been drinking wine from his private collection and now he had Virginia on his lap while he bounced her up and down as if she was on a horse. Charity approached from behind holding a small cloth in her hands that was intended to clean Virginia’s face. If he had been any other person, she probably would not have said a word to him, but... As she approached she could clearly see a bulge in his pants where one should not be.

Infuriated Charity started yelling and threw her rag at him. She quickly picked up Virginia cuddling her close. How could you! she screamed. This is just a baby, my baby, how dare you! If I ever see you with my baby again I’ll kill you!

In response to this outburst Virginia started to scream, as she held onto her mother’s hair as if her life were in some form of jeopardy. This loud ruckus only added to the ear piercing sounds that shook the hacienda,

The Genéralissimo, at first, was shocked and startled that someone had the nerve to confront him in his own home, but he soon recovered. He stood up slowly, brushed down his trousers to remove any wrinkles that there might be; and without warning, which was one of his trademark moves, he struck Charity so hard that she dropped Virginia as she was hurled three feet backwards falling to the tile floor.

He walked over to her, as he adjusted his riding gloves. Pointing one long slender finger in her direction he said with a low yet controlled voice, you are only alive because I wish it so, you miserable English dog! Do not ever tell me what I may or may not do in my home! I will do what I want, when I want and with whom I please! He then stepped back slightly and called for the guards. Guards, come in here at once!

Almost instantly two young guards appeared with swords at the ready. The guards were a common addition to any senior Spanish officer’s home in the event of an aboriginal uprising as what had occurred in the not too distant past.

Take this wretched bitch and secure her. I will deal with her later.

And the child your Excellency? questioned one of the guards as he bowed before his Genéralissimo.

Take the child to my private chambers. I am not done with her yet del Vargas said as he looked at Charity. No, certainly not yet he said with a smile.

Charity screamed and tried to reach out for Virginia, who was still sitting on the floor crying. But she was pulled away by the guards before she could reach her.

Charity was taken to the opposite side of the hacienda and thrown into a dark room. The heavy oak door was pulled shut behind her and doubled locked. Here she was left for days with only her tormented imagination to keep her company.

In the mean time, Constance and Mariá continued to share their knowledge of religion with each other and expanded on their limited form of communication. Until one of the house servants friendly to Mariá informed her of what happened to Charity. When Mariá shared this information with Constance, she begged Mariá to intercede.

Mariá, I beg you to help my friend and to get out of that place! Constance pleaded.

But what can I do? questioned Mariá.

You told me you had powers. I beg you to use them or at least threaten to use them Constance said as she held both of Mariá’s hands tightly. Look, at it this way, you were with child once. You know how that felt. Help save this child.

Mariá thought for a moment and looked at her friend. She could see the intensity and love in her eyes. I will do this thing you ask.

In order for this to have the desired effect, we must use your Nahual Mariá said. Come, we must prepare something special.

Mariá took Constance to a small detached room near the west side of the hacienda, a place where only she possessed the key. As she unlatched the doorway and pushed it open, the door creaked on its hinges indicating that she had not ventured in for some time. This is my private place, she said with a smile. "It used to be my mother’s room but now it is mine to store my special things. Come, sit while I prepare. She went straight to work, almost gleefully so; quickly preparing a steaming potion of natural herbs. The Spanish, in general, and this one in particular, are very, oh, how do you say…superstitious? Mariá said with a smile. Most of the time you do not have to make a request to the Spirit world to get what you want; just make them think that you are."

Why questioned Constance who was watching intently.

"Because, if you rely too heavily on the Spirits to