Roanoke: The Price of Power

The Doctor

Richard shoved his arms into his long, black coat and pulled the collar straight around his neck. He took his wide-brimmed hat from a hook beside his cottage door and tapped it down low on his brow. Like the coat, the hat hadn't held its black very well against three months of Roanoke dust and sun.

There was grime on his garb, certainly, but no tears or rents. Richard had managed to avoid nearly any semblance of labor since arriving to the colony. He'd done so by trading in other services. Medicine, healing work. Knowledge.

And knowledge is what Richard suspected the interim governor, Ananias Dare, had summoned him for that morning. It certainly wasn't for a call of leisure. "The Doctor," as everyone in the colony referred to Richard, was not well-liked among his fellow Englishmen on the island.

No, to say so was too harsh. He wasn't well-trusted. The Doctor was an anomaly, an errant factor. Being the only man to join to the colony from the most recent ship (the only ship in over two years) made him questionable in their eyes.

Richard didn't begrudge them for their wariness. Not at all. He served their needs, dispensed his potions and applied his skill when called to do so. In return, he shared meals with the sawyers and carpenters and planters. He shared them in silence, of course, but his needs were met and that's all that he required.

He hadn't come to Roanoke to make friends.

Tucking his belt knife into the sheath at the small of his back, concealed by the lengthy coat, he opened his door and stepped into the sun.

"Morning, Doc," came a friendly voice.

Truly friendly, as Arnold Archard was one of the few men on the island who didn't take pains to avoid him. Arnold was a gentleman and of a fine line. Former assistant to a magistrate in London turned adventurer. A true man of Elizabeth's England.

"And to you, Sir Arnold," Doc smiled.

"I'm off to the chillhouse. Join me?"

The chillhouse, Richard thought. Now that was a bit of knowledge and provision that had earned him a wide birth in Roanoke.

"I'm afraid I can't. There's a matter that requires my attention presently. Perhaps at midday."

"Perhaps. Be well, Doc."

Richard nodded and made his way to the governor's cottage.

* * * * *

The governor of Roanoke, acting in the stead of John White (presently waylaid in England without means to return to the New World) was a man named Ananias Dare. Dare was, in fact, White's son-in-law and father to the first English child born in America.

He stood now beside the Doctor, after having led him along the westward trail, both gazing down at a man with a gash where his throat should have been. Around them, a cool breeze shivered leaves and birds tweeted in defiance of the blood and death below.

"I figure it was Indians, but I wanted you to confirm my suspicions," said Dare.

Doc knelt beside the corpse and touched the wound. A notable quantity of blood had been spilled down the front of the dead man's chest, as would be expected, but the pattern of the deep red stain drew his attention. Likewise did the wide burn around the corpse's neck, just above the cut.

Doc reached down and pinched away a small fiber that had dug itself into the wound.

Hemp. It looks almost as if this man was hanged.

"It's good you called on me, Mr. Dare. I don't believe this is the work of a savage's hand."

"What else could it be? Not an animal."

"Of course not."

"Murder, then? I would find that very unlikely."

Doc stood and looked over the small hand-drawn wain nearby. It was piled with dried meat, covered in a pelt and capped off with a water skin.

"I'm almost certain it's murder, Mr. Dare. But I'm not so certain of why. It looks like this man was hauling meat back from the natives, yet none of the load was taken. Not even disturbed, perhaps.

"With food growing scarce, I don't imagine a colonist would leave this meat untouched. Not unless this murder was planned and the killer exercised a good deal of discipline."

"How so?"

"He would know that being found with a stock of dried meat would implicate him so he would leave it behind. But for someone to have planned to kill this man and then leave the body for discovery sends the opposite message. This was quite . . . sloppy."

Doc turned slowly, scanning the surrounding trees and brush. A narrow trail, plenty of hiding places for an ambush. Still, it would have been difficult to take the victim from behind with the wain on his heels.

"I have a suspicion, Mr. Dare, but I will need to reference one of my books. In the meantime, might I recommend a course of action?"

"Certainly."

"You may want to keep this away from the colony at large until we discover the culprit. If I can draw the conclusion of murder, others will as well and we don't want to create a panic."

Dare nodded.

"I hear tales of Sir Arnold's skill with investigation," Doc continued. "Would you ask him to meet with me? I believe he'll prove quite helpful in this matter."

"Can we trust him to keep quiet?"

Doc smiled and shrugged, "ask him. I believe he'll be forthright in his answer."