“Senor, do you think it wise to abandon the safety of our fort to confront these devils afield? The men will be exposed and at risk,” Armando had stated.

  “While the fort is in an excellent location to fend off a direct attack from water or land, these men are not interested in us. The prize they seek is easily reached without ever confronting the fort.”

  “Exactly which prize are you protecting?” he had asked in a pointed tone.

  “You yourself have commented on the desire to have these natives come to the Faith. What better way to gain their trust than to defend their lives?” he had countered.

  Pushing the memory aside, he assessed the situation as it progressed. In all, Juan counted twenty men, ten per boat. He could see several had their muskets up and at the ready, looking for any threats as the others rowed for the village shore. He dared not let them get too close, or they might make the shore and try to take refuge in the village.

  “There it is,” he heard one of the men say in English as he pointed to the shore near the village.

  “Where are the men?” his companion asked in return.

  “I don’t see anyone. Did everyone die fighting?”

  There was a pause of total silence. The only sound was oars as they slapped the water.

  “Fire!” Juan shouted as he let loose with the pistol in his hand.

  At his words, a volley of shot and arrows lanced across the short distance, tearing into the men in the boats from both banks of the river. The smoke from the muskets became targets for the slavers as those untouched in the first volley returned fire. Soon the small area became filled with burnt gunpowder as the still air did nothing to dissipate the gray haze.

  The few return blasts from the boats did little to halt the men reloading while a second and then third flight of feathered shafts peppered the two boats. Through the smoke, Juan could see the men in the boats scrambling for the fallen weapons, unfired as their owners took the first volley. Intermittent flames belched from their guns as each was hurriedly brought to bear against the Spanish and native attackers.

  By now, the men at the oars had reversed their rowing and were doing their best to clear the zone of death Juan had set up. He heard shouting, and cries of pain intermingled as the slavers worked to retreat from the onslaught. By his count, the slaver numbers were now halved, and the few left rowing were not unscathed. He could see a shaft or two protruding from leg or arm as they frantically worked the oars.

  The short distance between the river bank and the slaver boats, in the beginning, had ensured the success of the first volley. The following volleys of shot and arrows mostly found wood as everyone in the boats had taken refuge behind the gunwales of the two. Stepping out from behind the trees and undergrowth as the boats turned the river bend and left his view, Juan heard the chief speak behind him. Looking at Conejo, who had been at his side the whole time, he waited for her words.

  “He says they will not return soon as they now fear the bow and the barking stick. He asks that you stay and celebrate this great victory with us. There will be much to eat.”

  Catching the look of disapproval from his Corporal as he returned with the others from across the river, he nodded in agreement. He knew the Corporal could understand the motions the chief made, if not the words.

  “Yes, we would be honored to stay and feast with you,” he said while smiling at the girl.

  Posting guards to watch the beach, Juan turned the rest of his men loose to enjoy the grateful natives’ hospitality. He was happy to find that he needed to do little to keep track of the young woman who had captured his heart.

  She did not hide her interest in him, something he reveled in. Even the chief was pleased to see her cater to Juan’s needs, providing food and drink without prompting. Juan was too enchanted with her to see the pair of faces, each scowling at the couple from different parts of the great circle and for very different reasons.

  Foxworth House, Present day

  Charlotte was home alone, working on her homework as assigned by Dr. Cole when Hunter bolted for the door, his bark announcing a visitor. Sitting in the parlor, she had been working with a set of small wooden boxes Walter had assured her were safe for her practices. Looking up, she watched an unfamiliar car pass through the gates and make its way up to the front of the house.

  Lost from view as the car parked, she gave the driver a few minutes before she rose and headed for the door.

  “Janet? This is a surprise,” she declared as she opened the door after hearing the soft tapping.

  Standing in front of her was the woman from the Historical Society, the one that had passed the medallion to her the first time she had a vision.

  “I hope I am not interrupting anything?” she asked.

  “Not at all, please come in, I’m happy to have company. That’s one bad part about being so far from town, we get so few visitors,” Charlotte replied as she motioned for the woman to enter.

  “Come into the kitchen, I was just about to make some coffee,” she lied as she considered all the little wooden boxes she had spread out in the parlor.

  “That would be great,” Janet replied as she followed her.

  “So, what brings you all the way out here?” Charlotte asked as she prepared a pot of coffee.

  “Well, it’s a little embarrassing,” Janet started as she watched Charlotte work.

  “I was talking to Edith the other day.”

  “The woman at the bookstore? You know her?” Charlotte asked, a little alarmed.

  “Historic St. Augustine is a very small community, everyone knows everybody. Anyway, I was telling her about you, no names, of course, and about how you had fainted while holding that medallion. I should tell you that Edith is quite connected to the psychic community. Anyway, she suggested that I follow-up with whomever I was talking about and tell them to go see her.”

  Charlotte paused to sort out the cryptic statement before smiling.

  “You already know I have, don’t you?’ Charlotte asked as she poured for two.

  “Edith is not very good at lying. She is a wonderful, caring person, but couldn’t deceive a 2 year old. She caved the minute I told her about the incident and that I thought it might be a psychic event.”

  Charlotte passed the cup over to Janet with both the cream and sugar, then doctored her own cup as she considered her next words. Motioning for Janet to sit, she took the stool next to her.

  “So why are you really here?’ she asked after she sipped the coffee.

  “I can honestly use your help,” she replied as she pulled a wad of cloth from her purse.

  Placing it between the two of them, Janet slowly opened the cloth until Charlotte could see the Spanish Medallion that had triggered the journey she was now on.

  “I have scoured all the research archives I can find, and this medallion is not in any of them. It seems to be one of a kind, patterned after one of the many Santiago el Mayor medals, but it’s bigger than any we have seen. It’s solid silver giving it some value, and it’s not dated, nor is there a maker’s mark anywhere. It's making me crazy.”

  “And you were hoping that my vision might shed some light on its origins?” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, what did you see?” she asked excitedly.

  After a deep sigh, Charlotte gave Janet the extended version of the vision. She answered several questions along the way, trying to give Janet something to key in on. She first described the woman and the markings on her body, tracing out the patterns on a piece of paper.

  “Those are most definitely Timucua, probably body paint and not tattoos,” she explained based on the size and colors.

  Next, Charlotte talked about her pursuers, recalling the uniforms and swords they were waving about.

  “Those aren’t swords, those were machetes,” she explained, sketching the differences in the blades.

  “Yes, they looked just like that,” Charlotte confirmed.

  “Probably 18th century then. Odd that they were chasing her down. Maybe she had stolen it? The Spanish and the Timucua were not at odds with one another at that time,” Janet speculated.

  “No, I am sure it was a gift. She treasured it,” Charlotte said defensively.

  “Interesting, and later found by someone working the plantation 100 years later,” was all Janet offered, recalling the story she was told of the medallion’s discovery.

  By now, the pair was into their second cup of coffee.

  “I am sorry, there is not much more than that to say,” she explained.

  “Well, it helps some as it placed its ownership sometime in the 18th century. I just wish I knew how she had acquired it. I think we can assume it was lost in her attempt to escape those men, or your vision would be of someone else.”

  “That was the strongest emotional imprint. If it is indeed possessed, then it would be her spirit.”

  “Is there a way you can tell for sure?” Janet asked cautiously.

  Charlotte paused as she thought of all the work she had been doing with Walter. One of her exercises just might help the woman’s cause.

  “Look, I just learned to do this, so I can’t promise it will work,” she explained as she carefully moved the cloth without touching its contents.

  Placing her hand just over its center, she closed her eyes and tried to sense the positive energy it held.

  “I see a man and a woman. Their clothes are simple and old, like Amish clothes,” she said as she tried to describe the style and period.

  “Sounds European, like Spanish or French country folk, maybe?” Janet offered from the description.

  “He gives her the medallion as a gift, something made just for her. He is dark, like Hispanic, but she is light-skinned with red hair.”

  “Irish?” she heard Janet comment in surprise.

  “Maybe,” Charlotte replied, trying not to lose the vision.

  “Now I see a woman, it’s the same one as before, but older, with graying hair. She is giving the medallion to her son, I can tell. She is so proud of him, but worries; he is a soldier, in the same uniform as before,” she blurted in surprise.

  “The Spanish?”

  “Yes. Oh, it’s changing again. There is more sadness. I see a girl kneeling next to a body. No, she is more of a young woman. She is crying, and he is standing next to her. He kneels to comfort her. Now he gives her the medallion. He has to shift his sword as he kneels before he can place it around her neck…oh my!” Charlotte said as she opened her eyes.

  “What?” Janet asked as she seizes on her comment.

  “That was the man who gave it to her before she died. They were in love,” she explained absently.

  “So, my medallion was a gift from an 18th Century Spanish soldier to a Timucua maiden. How marvelous!” she said with a smile as she gathered up her cloth and tucked it back into her purse.

  “You realize I can’t prove any of that for you?” Charlotte took a stiff drink from her coffee cup.

  “No matter, it’s something I can work with. I just can’t thank you enough,” Janet replied as she hurried toward the front door.

  “I simply must get back and see what I can find out about our mystery couple. The Spanish actually kept excellent records on the local villages; maybe there is something in there. A marriage record, perhaps?” she said, almost singing.

  “Glad I could help,” Charlotte said softly as the door closed.

  Turning back to the kitchen, she began cleaning up as she considered her vision. The feelings she had gotten from the medallion were strong and clear. She had felt them before and not when she had first held the disk in her hand. It was the Spaniard, the one with the sword. He was the one she had seen killed in her vision at Sammis House, she was sure of it.

  ----*----

  “Are you positive?” Robert asked as she explained her visit from Janet.

  “Yes, it’s the same man. Whoever it was that gave the girl the medallion was the same one I saw die in my vision, the one from the blood in the wood of the mantle.”

  “So our guy with the sword gave her the medallion out of love, and later, he was killed by the natives while she was offed by the Spanish?” Robert said in a tone of disbelief.

  “I am sure there is more to this, but yes, that’s what it looks like.”

  “Well, it explains why he is so angry,” he said.

  “I think there is much more. He was confused at the time, not mad, and she was scared and looking for someone. Maybe him?”

  The two made notes of the conversation, and in the following session with Dr. Cole, they passed it on to him.

  “Well, this is quite interesting, can I keep these?” he commented as he read their combined synopsis.

  “Sure,” Robert replied.

  “Is it possible they are related?’ she asked as he tucked the papers into his notebook.

  “A remarkable coincidence, to be sure, but yes, certainly they could be,” he said after some consideration.

  “Is it possible that the haunting is the two of them still searching for one another?” Robert asked.

  “That is so sad!’ Charlotte commented.

  “That would explain the strong residual psychic energy each possessed. The medallion was a more passive event, but it still left a strong imprint on Charlotte’s contact. The sword is far more active and, honestly, violent, but there is a presence there.”

  “What would happen if they were brought together?’ Charlotte speculated.

  “That could be very dangerous, but might just be the right thing to do,” Walter said as he looked to be considering the ramifications.

  “Well, that will have to wait until after we trash Albert in court,” Robert replied sternly.

  Chapter 21

  By the river, near the native village, 1741

  As the day turned to evening and darkness covered the village, the celebration continued on. Sergeant Juan had seen his sentries rotated to ensure every one of his men had an opportunity to participate. He also urged his Corporal to put aside his prejudices and open his heart to the people around them. The food and drink alone were ample reasons to embrace the celebration of life.

  Quelotera was enjoying the celebration as she attended to Sergeant Juan. She could see the approval on the chief’s face as she provided for their guest’s every need. The surprise attack on the second slaver group had been led by the Spaniard, and the wicked men had been driven away for good without a single loss on the Timucua or Spanish side.

  After the losses in the village from the first raid, her beloved Nibilil included, she was both relieved and grateful that the Spanish were there protecting them all. Her gratitude had a single focus.

  “Come with me,” she said to the man in English, no one nearby able to understand them as they spoke.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You will see,” she replied playfully as she took him by the hand and pulled gently for him to follow.

  By now, the sun was gone from the sky, and the moon was just beginning to shed its light on the gathering below. The large central fire was illuminating the festivities. As they distanced themselves from its glow, she took it as a sign from above that the moonlight was more than enough for her to make her way to her intended destination.

  Working her way through the woods, she followed a path that led them away from the village and east to the branch of the river that flowed past the village and headed farther inland.

  “Conejo, where are you taking me?” she heard Sergeant Juan ask playfully.

  “You will see. I am sure you will like it!’ she said with enthusiasm.

  Just a little bit beyond the noises of the celebration behind them, where only the sounds of nature could be heard, she reached her destination. Here a smaller river, really more of a stream, widened slightly, then tapered at either end, so it looked more like a large pool than a stream.

  She knew the river bottom was sandy here and not muddy like most other places. It was a popular place in the daytime as the villagers came here to wash and soak in the warm shallow waters. She stopped near the water’s edge and turned to the man, slipping up next to him and offering a slow, sensual kiss.

  She felt him slip his arms around her body as he drew her in next to his rough clothing. The two stood like that for several moments as they held the kiss. Slowly, she backed away from his grasp, and as he watched her, she dropped the wrap around her hips and the necklace around her neck in the sand.

  With only the medallion still around her neck to cover her, dangling loosely between her breasts, she began to back into the water, arms out as she beckoned him to join her. By the time she was waist deep, she could see him begin to undress. She stood motionlessly, knowing the water was removing the markings that she had so meticulously placed on her skin, but she didn’t care. She knew that the moonlight reflecting off the calm water highlighted her against the darkness, giving him a visible goal and increasing his desire for her.

  As she watched him wade out to meet her, she continued to draw him out, teasing him into deeper water until they were both chest deep. It was there that she moved back to meet him, again swept up in his embrace as their bodies came together, the medallion the only thing between them. She felt the metal pushed deep into her skin as he clutched her to his chest.

  She could feel her breasts pressed into his body as she wrapped her arms about his neck, his grasp holding her firm to him. As they kissed, she felt his hands begin to explore her body, the water about them softly splashing with the activity. Inexperienced in the ways of men and women, she tried to follow his lead as he worked her body beneath the water.

  She felt him grasp at her thighs, pulling her legs around him until she wrapped herself about his waist. She was at first confused until she felt the gentle pressure of him trying to enter her. Confusion gave way to desire as she worked her hips in an attempt to assist in his efforts.

  A gasp escaped her lips as their efforts were rewarded, and she slipped down in the water ever so slightly. Mimicking his movements, the two worked in concert until they became frenzied in their passion. Quelotera lost control of herself as her only thought was the building need inside her. Her arms wrapped tightly about his neck, she felt Juan’s arms hold her firmly as he continued to work himself into her body, again and again. Their hunger for one another increased as the two became one in pleasure.

 

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