shortest route between the larger coastal colony and this outpost, and thus we occasionally saw a troop of soldiers moving between them with supplies or replacement men, and one or two families joining the enlarging falls group. Aleksey, needless to say, found all this fascinating and appeared to know schedules and duties and names and ranks—things he tried to interest me in. Once or twice, he had even mentioned illness or injury within the families, trying to spark my abeyant interest in medicine. It was very dormant, trust me—unless Aleksey had a vague ache needing warmed oils and the application of my hands to relieve…. Soldiers, abscesses, boils, and the pox did not concern me.
The fish was good, though.
“Nearly thirty people! Soldiers and officers, Niko, and the families—men, women, and children. They have all disappeared. Is that not strange?”
“How does anyone know they have? It is ridiculous, Aleksey. If I do not hear from Johan, I do not assume he has disappeared . Eat your fish before it gets cold.”
“They know because… well… everyone just does know. You should hear what has been said—that the place is entirely deserted with no sign of damage or a struggle, but that there is food still warm in bowls upon the tables; that—”
“Oh, and you join in with this gossip fit only for servants, do you?”
“Why are you in such a sulk? Is this not the most interesting thing that has happened for ages?”
I was not in a bad mood as such, but his words had sparked an unfortunate memory that I was at some pains to conceal. Aleksey was bad enough when he had no fuel for the fires of his imagination….
“I apologize that your life here with me, Your Majesty, bores you so.”
Aleksey threw down the remains of his meal and stood, then walked over to the lakeshore and began skimming some pebbles angrily. “You are so…. You ruin everything!”
I rose and went to stand behind him and slid my arms around his waist. “Everything?”
He relented, sagging back against me. “No. Nothing—of course. Except my stupidity and horrid temper. I’m sorry. But it is such a good story—so mysterious.” He sighed theatrically. “There is probably a message written in blood upon the walls….”
I chuckled; I could not help it. I tightened my hold upon his slim form. I had been outmaneuvered by my love for him—I wanted him to have his spooky story by the campfire in the dark.
He turned in my arms, eyeing me with a surprised look. “What? You know something about this, don’t you?”
I shrugged and went back to my meal—if I was going to spin a story, I wanted it to be to a very eager audience, and playing Aleksey was one of my chief amusements.
After a few moments, I laid down my platter. “My people—”
“Oh God….” He had followed me back to the fire and was sitting cross-legged across the low embers, his face illuminated as a saint’s painted in a chapel in a distant land. “They were not your people, Niko! They murdered your people!” My life with the Powponi was a constant source of friction between us since we had arrived here in the New World. Although I avoided our European neighbors as much as possible, I spent a great deal of time with the local tribe, the Mik’mac, whose hunting lands merged somewhat with ours. It seemed only pragmatic to me to live in harmonious accord with them. Aleksey’s kingdom was easily big enough for all of us. Aleksey’s resentment of the Mik’mac stemmed from his belief that I hovered too uneasily between my old life and this new one. He wanted me firmly rooted in his life. I hope that is what he was thinking, anyway. Perhaps he was just jealous of the time I spent with seminaked, beautiful warriors. Actually, I hope he was thinking that as well.
I occasionally harbored my own doubts about my desire to live my life more in accord with the peoples native to this land. After all, my introduction to their life had been sudden, savage, and