New Found Land Read Free Page A

one. A brave took up a position on the ridge and stayed there, motionless. When he did go, another took his place, and so it continued from dawn to dusk. Red Hawk haddecided they should know they were being watched.
    Curtius was more maddened by this than any of them. His instinct, as a trained and experienced Roman soldier, was to attack; he wanted to go up and drive the watcher away, killing him if necessary. The fact that this could only mean a full-scale assault from the rest of the Algonquian braves did not seem to bother him, and Brad and Simon had trouble talking him out of the project. It was a relief that another snowstorm started while they were arguing; even if the Indian remained at his post they could not see him. But they could not go out to hunt, either, with landmarks obliterated by the driving snow.
    The storm lasted all day and most of the night. Next morning there was another three feet of snow outside the door. Bos set to work shovelling a path round the hut. Brad was standing by the open door, and Simon joined him.
    â€œNo sign of our watcher.”
    Brad shook his head. “He’ll be back.”
    While they were staring up at the ridge, they heard Bos shout with an urgency that got them running. They rounded the corner of the hut to see him standing in front of the animal pen. He turned towardsthem, his face showing a mixture of anger and misery.
    A section of the pen had been crudely broken, and tracks led away from it across the snow.
    Bos said: “I heard sounds in the night, but thought it could have been the wind battering.”
    â€œWhat have we lost?” Brad asked.
    â€œThe nanny goat.”
    â€œIndians?” Simon asked.
    Bos shook his head. “There were paw marks and a trail of blood. A bear.”
    They stood in silence, taking in this totally unexpected disaster. The nanny, with a kid growing in her belly, had represented a hope for the future. And they had all been fond of her, Bos especially. The big man looked as though he might be going to cry. Possibly in a bid to prevent that, Brad said harshly: “It’s a nasty blow. But we couldn’t have kept them, once we headed west. The same with the hens. I’ve known for some time we had to think of them as meat.”
    Bos surveyed him with heavy eyes. “So we might as well kill the billy now, before the bear comes back, and butcher him for our larder?”
    Brad nodded.
    â€œI think I will leave that task to you, Bradus.”
    Brad did not answer.
    Bos fixed his gaze on him for a long moment, then said: “Don’t worry. I know what is man’s work. I will see to it. You are better skilled at talking. But watch your tongue, boy.”
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    The winter dragged slowly on. The billy goat and chickens provided a temporary addition to their food supplies; while they lasted, they did not need to buy meat from the Indians and could conserve the diminishing supply of wampum. There was still a watcher on the ridge, though, and the snares they set stayed empty. Red Hawk had suspended his visits, but uncannily, as though he knew the exact contents of their larder, he returned when they were down to the last chicken and the last haunch of goat meat. His rates had gone up again, and a lot more winter lay ahead. There was a brief period of milder weather, but it was followed by a series of bitter storms which kept them inside the cabin, in unhappy and hungry confinement.
    The next clear spell saw Red Hawk back with his braves. They brought two rabbits and some withered roots. He wanted twelve strings of beads for each of therabbits. For the roots—he gestured magnanimously—three only.
    They were stunned into silence. Red Hawk’s face was expressionless as usual; then, astonishingly, it cracked into a smile. He pointed at Bos, and spoke to Brad. Simon picked up the occasional word: hair . . . knife . . . wampum . . . Brad was asking,