He rose from prisoner to interpreter to friend, but wanted more. He planned and tricked and played the game of war and politics. “They’ll make you sick,” he swore of those whose hands protected him, and sowed dissent.
“Kill him,” said Massasoit, but the white man said he still needed him.
“Kill him,” said the messenger, but the white man said not yet.
“Kill him,” said the man with knife. “We’ll pay,” but the white man said no, because even a man accused of betrayal might still be called a friend.
When Squanto died, their peace came to an end.