Not a day passed without new rumors at Werowocomoco of the white
strangers and their curious habits.

Pamunkeys from the tops of swaying trees on either bank watched eagerly
the doings of the colonists, and runners bore the word of every movement
to both Opechanchanough at Kecoughtan and to The Powhatan at his
village. Curiosity and consternation were equally balanced in the minds
of the red men. What meant this coming from the rising sun of beings
whose ways no man could fathom? Were they gods enjoying a charmed life,
against whom neither bow nor shaman's medicine might avail? About the
council fires in every village this was debated. The old chiefs, wise in
the traditions of their people, spake of prophecies which foretold the
coming of heroes with faces pale as water at dawn who should teach to
the tribes good medicine and bring plentiful harvests and rich hunting.
Others recalled the vague rumors which had come from far, far away in
the Southland, from tribes whose very names were unknown, of other
palefaces (the Spanish colonists in the West Indies), who had brought
fire and fighting into peaceful, happy islands of the summer seas, who
like terrible, powerful demons, spread about them death and strange
diseases.

Then came to the councils the comforting word of the death of a white
boy slain by a Pamunkey arrow. So they were mortal after all, said the
chiefs, and they smoked their pipes more placidly as they sat around the
fire. Against gods man could not know what action was right; but since
these were but men who could hunger and thirst and be wounded, it
behooved them to plan what measures should be adopted against them.