Sugar in the Morning

by Isobel Chace

  We reached the Savannah with the speed and vigour of a cork coming out of a bottle, spreading out across the new-mown grass like lava coining down the slopes of a volcano.

  I saw Aaron, his crinkly hair covered by a golden wig, wearing no more than a loincloth made of golden cloth and with his whole body painted to match. Truly magnificent, but what could he be? Nothing less than Apollo himself, I thought. I couldn’t help laughing to think he was a bank manager and such a respectable citizen, and then—wow, he could dress like that! But that was Carnival, and I loved it!

  I caught sight of the Tudors then, on the other side of the Trojans who seemed to be mounting a full-scale battle with the Greeks and some Chinese Mandarins, resplendent in silk and dignity. The Tudors looked rather like court cards, every one of them either Henry VIII or Elizabeth I. Most of the men seemed to be having some difficulty with their paper ruffs and I was longing to see how Daniel was getting along with his, but of him there was no sign.

  “I don’t think he’s got here yet,” I said to Patience.

  She didn’t have to ask who I meant. She just shook her head sadly. “Not yet, Mill ‘Milla, but he’s a coming, you can be sure of that!”

  “You’re never looking out for our revered cousin, are you Camilla?” Wilfred asked me with such a superior expression that I had to laugh.

  “I thought he was with the Tudors,” I explained.

  “He is,” Wilfred retorted dryly. “Didn’t you know that the Tudors managed to get both the roses into their symbol?”

  “It was the end of the Wars of the Roses,” I said lightly.

  Wilfred sighed. ‘There was peace in the land,” he agreed, “but on Tudor terms, with Tudor men in all the best jobs making money like mad! Well, I ask you, can you imagine Daniel as anything but a Tudor man?”

  I refused to answer. I looked anxiously over at the Tudor group again, aware this time of the bitter look in Wilfred’s eyes as he watched me. Then, to my relief, I saw Daniel at last, standing a little aloof from the others and looking so magnificent that for a moment I was quite overcome with the sheer startling beauty of his costume, with its fine slashed sleeves and shining doublet, which was set off to perfection by his dark hair and the arrogant stance that came so naturally to him.

  He must have seen me at about the same time, for he waved an elegant handkerchief in my direction and sauntered over towards us. “Hey there, page, I need you to carry my sword!” he announced loftily when he got within earshot.

  “Certainly not!” I retorted.

  He looked me up and down with appreciative eyes. “Am I to understand that the uniform is entirely ornamental?” he drawled.

  “It certainly doesn’t mean I’m going to carry your sword!” I said carefully, not wanting to antagonise him after all.

  “An advertisement for stockings?” he enquired audaciously.

  I looked down at my silk-clad legs and grinned. At least I could say that I had the legs for that! “Why not?” I agreed mildly. I think he had been expecting me to rise angrily to his remarks, but I was not going to give him any such satisfaction.

  We were overtaken by Suleiman the Magnificent and his Janissaries, all marching in step, a magnificent body of men who so far had scorned to encumber themselves with any women, but now, as they were pushed forwards by the crowd behind, it looked as if their iron discipline might break and instinctively I drew nearer to Daniel before I was swept away in the rush. His arm went round me and he led me into the dance—any dance, what did it matter?—and I found myself dancing as I had never danced before until I was exhausted, but even then we couldn’t stop. If this was going on until the small hours of the next morning, I couldn’t bear it, but the music went on crashing in our ears and the laughter and the gaiety grew wilder, rather than less, and we were sobbing from lack of breath and could think of nothing, only hear the physical beat of the music in our whole bodies.

  Cuthbert forced me away from Daniel, his face like thunder.

  “I thought you understood,” he shouted in my ear.

  “Understood what?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fraternising with the enemy!” he insisted. “Can’t you get it into your head that you’re a Plantagenet? There are standards to be kept up. You can’t go Tudor on us!”

  “But I was only dancing with him,” I objected.

  “Only!” he repeated scornfully. “Traitor! Don’t you know yet that you’re an Ironside?”

  I sighed. “Does it matter? It’s Carnival. Do we have to indulge our grudges now?”

  “So that’s the way you really think!” he exclaimed. “I thought you’d learned something over this sugar business!”

  “I have,” I said drily. “I’ve learned that we have to get along with one another if the place is to be made to pay. Without Daniel, all we can possibly make is a big fat loss!”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  I shook my head. “Aaron did.”

  Cuthbert looked at me, his eyes widening with dismay. “He’s bought you!” he declared.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “And what do you think Wilfred will have to say to that?” he demanded.

  I looked up at him thoughtfully. “Do you know, I really don’t care what he says—”

  “He’ll think you’ve sold out to the enemy!”

  “He can think what he pleases!” I retorted, now as angry as my cousin.

  Cuthbert recovered himself with difficulty. “I don’t see why everything always has to depend on him!” he said.

  “Nor do I,” I agreed sheepishly. “But it does.”

  My uncle and Wilfred joined us just then. It was the first time I had ever seen Wilfred completely at home with his surroundings. He looked every inch the Plantagenet King he portrayed, his hair just curling beneath the coronet that shone as if it were real gold. My uncle looked rather less happy in his costume, but then he had probably not chosen for himself or overseen the sewing of every stitch as Wilfred had with his.

  “This is the life!” Wilfred said now. “Can you imagine anything quite like it anywhere else in the world? The Savannah, the music, and the glory of it all? How can people bear to leave it?”

  Uncle Philip winced away from the noise. “Speaking for myself, I’m longing for the quiet of the south,” he said.

  Wilfred said nothing. I wondered if he had told his father that he was not coming to help work the sugar estate. It was not my business to do it for him, but the words came rushing up and I only swallowed them back when I saw the expression in Wilfred’s eyes.

  “Can’t we even forget about sugar for one day?” he asked wearily.

  “Of course we can!” I said with a good deal more heartiness than I was feeling.

  “We’ve come for the Carnival, so let’s ‘play mas’ while we can,” Cuthbert added.

  My uncle pulled his cloak about him as if he were suddenly cold. “You must do as you please,” he said wryly. He turned and left us, edging through the crowds back towards Charlotte Street and home.

  “It’s a shame to let him go like that,” I said.

  Wilfred laughed harshly. “He hates Carnival. Don’t worry about him, Camilla. You can’t please us all, you know!”

  That I was beginning to learn. I longed to get away from them and looked hopefully about, seeking the Tudors with my eyes, but without much hope of finding them. There were so many bands and their followers, flocking in and out of the crowds, and the Tudors were not a big group to be seen at once like some of the others.

  Another convulsive shove from the rear pushed us further into the park. Patience, who had never ceased to dance from the first instant her feet had touched the pavement outside the house, glowered at a young man who had trodden on her toes. “Don’t you mash me, young man!” she screamed at him.

  “You’re tick-tock!” he roared back.

  Patience, furious that she should be called mad, advanced and beat him over the head.

  “All you’re fit for is to
play sticks!” he laughed at her.

  “I’ll teach you respect!” she yelled.

  “You will?” He laughed in her face and kissed her cheek. Patience softened as if by magic and the young man strutted away with a swagger that made me laugh.

  “And what’s it you laughin’ at?” Patience glared at me.

  “N-nothing,” I assured her hastily.

  She shook her head at me, her eyes dancing with knowledgeable amusement. “Your turn’s a-comin’!” she warned me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked immediately.

  “I’se not tellin’! I’se too busy laughin’!” She turned away and began to dance again. My cousins too seemed to have found themselves girls to dance with and I knew no one else from the Plantagenet band. Everybody had a partner. Everybody was having fun. The full-throated laughter came streaming from a dozen different throats, some black as bitter chocolate, others that would have been white except for the sun-tan that they never lost in these islands. Everybody was having fun except me!

  I thought I saw the Tudors, but Daniel was not with them. The Plantagenets had started singing their song again and I joined in the chorus dutifully for the last time. I secretly thought some of the other calypsos were better, more pointed and better sung, and I wanted to hear them better. I slipped away from our own steel band and walked down the avenue of little stalls, all selling food, that had sprouted in the park overnight. A great smell of cooking assaulted my nostrils, of curry and newly baked bread, of hot-dogs and mustard, of eastern spices and western collations, all beautifully set out and arranged to tempt the passer-by.

  The sun beat down on the crowds and although we were out in the open air, the atmosphere was stuffy from the sheer press of people who had gathered on the Savannah. I found the shade of a tree and sat down there, fanning myself with the edge of my cloak.

  I think I must have gone to sleep, because the next thing I knew they were parading around in front of the judges who were trying to decide which were the best-looking band. The Plantagenets, I decided, would have to get along without me. I could hardly believe that I would do much to enhance their effort when I compared it with the magnificence of some of the other bands. Take Aaron, for example, with the sun making the gold paint on his body shine as if it were the real thing. Who could compete with the gods?

  But it was fun to watch. Every time I thought I might leave the crowded park for a while, another burst of colour and imagination would catch my fascinated eye and I would be riveted to the spot I had chosen, eagerly taking in the details of yet another band, singing yet another calypso.

  I heard the snap of a twig behind me, but I wasn’t curious enough to turn and see who it was. If I had, I might have escaped, but nothing warned me that I was in any danger until I felt rough hands grasp my arms and legs and a velvet cloth was flung around my head to prevent my crying out or seeing where they were taking me. Not that it would have done me any good to cry out. There was too much noise all round me for anyone to have heard, and who would have paid any attention even if they had?

  I struggled to escape, but they only held me tighter. Whoever my captives were, they were completely silent as they carried me through the park. I knew vaguely where we were going, for I could tell each time we left the open sunlight for the shade of a tree and back again. The trees were quite regular, so I presumed we were following the line of cannon-ball trees I had seen there earlier.

  “You’re making a great mistake!” I said furiously, spitting out the velvet folds that had somehow got into my mouth.

  “You’re a Plantagenet, aren’t you? A page? A female page?” a laughing voice retorted. I was silent for a minute as I wondered if I knew the voice, but I decided I did not.

  “I’m a Plantagenet page,” I agreed after a while. “Who are you?”

  But they only laughed.

  Up to that moment it hadn’t occurred to me to be afraid of them, but now the first stirrings of panic burgeoned within me.

  “Where are we going?” I demanded.

  “You’ll see soon enough!” the laughing voice told me. It was better educated than most, but I was almost sure now that I had never heard it before. It was very like another voice I knew well, but it wasn’t the same, it hadn’t the range or the depth of feeling that Daniel could produce with his.

  “But I want to know now!” I protested, struggling harder as their hands tightened around my wrists and ankles.

  “Ah, but pages have to learn their manners!” the voice told me.

  “I suppose you’re a monarch?” I said wearily.

  “Not I! But I serve one,” he admitted.

  My dull wits began to work again. I was sure that this had something to do with Daniel, though why he should go to so much trouble was beyond me.

  “The one you serve, did he defeat my lot in battle?” I asked slyly.

  But my captor only laughed. The men spoke amongst themselves, the soft lilt of the island lending a magic to the most obvious remark. I was heavier than they had expected, and taller too, for they had difficulty in holding me high enough so that I didn’t drag along the ground. Two of them wanted to take a rest, but their leader wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Put her in the car,” he ordered.

  “Put her in the back, man! Hurry along!”

  The velvet cloth slipped from around my head and by shaking my, head I was able to get free of its suffocating texture and breathe freely once again. The back of the car was comfortable and I made no effort to sit up to see where we were going. I looked all round the car, though. It was a Mustang, like Daniel’s, and much the same colour, but I couldn’t be absolutely sure that it was the same car. All I knew was that it could have-been.

  We travelled fast. I could feel the occasional hole in the road and any lingering doubts that I might have had that the driver was Daniel evaporated. Daniel was a better driver than this man—a much better driver. We hurtled on and then came to a sudden stop just as I was managing to struggle free of the velvet bag in which they had enveloped me. When I was free, I could see it had been hastily stitched together into a kind of sack, but that the stitches were already breaking open, which was why I had been able to catch a glimpse of my surroundings.

  With the stopping of the car, I almost fell from the seat, and it was only because I had managed to get my hands free that I was able to push myself back on. Even so, I was decidedly cross when I heard the driver jump out and hail whoever it was he had come to meet.

  “Will you pay now or later?” he asked cheerfully.

  Even though I couldn’t see his face I was aware of Daniel’s disapproval. How I knew it was Daniel I shall never know, but I was as certain as I was that the driver was not Daniel.

  “Have you hurt her?” he asked with some anxiety.

  I took a deep breath of relief and struggled more urgently against my velvet bonds.

  “Daniel!” I gasped.

  He wrenched open the door and pulled me out beside him, throwing the velvet sack back into the car. His face was like thunder, though it softened visibly as his eyes met mine. “It was a misunderstanding,” he said.

  “I know,” I responded. “You may be dressed as a Tudor, but scarcely as a King!”

  His arms went about me and he hugged me tight, but I pulled away, for I was very aware of the curious eyes of my erstwhile captors. They watched critically while I tried to regain my composure and failed as I always did when Daniel was near.

  “It was too easy!” the laughing leader exclaimed. “She was sitting under this tree waiting for us. We thought we’d show a Plantagenet what it means to refuse to carry a Tudor sword!”

  Daniel gave him a playful cuff on his shoulder, but I could tell that he was far from angry. Indeed, I was beginning to preen myself with the idea that he had gone to so much trouble to have my society. If he hadn’t actually told them to do it, I reasoned, he had at least talked about it, and that amused me somehow for I would never have thought of Daniel as being guilty of su
ch foolishness. He turned to me with a rueful smile.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked me.

  I shook my head. “Surprised,” I amended dryly.

  I was able to take a good look at my captors now. Two of them were no more than boys who had come along for the joy-ride. It was the third man, the man with the laughing voice, who interested me more. He bore a superficial resemblance to Daniel, physically as well as in the tones of his voice. Perhaps they were related, I thought.

  “I thought you’d be pleased!” he said rather sulkily to Daniel.

  “Oh, I am!” Daniel assured him, suddenly gay. He unstrapped his sword and handed it to me. “Take this, page!”

  I took it obediently. It was surprisingly heavy. I examined it to see if it was real or just a stage prop such as most people were wearing. It was real all right. A Spanish sword made in Toledo, a man’s sword that would take a strong wrist to wield it in battle.

  “Is it yours?” I asked him.

  He took it back from me. “It’s been in the family for a few years,” he answered. He bowed to me elegantly and offered me his arm. “Now that you’re here, would you care to come in and partake of some refreshment?”

  I nearly curtsied in reply, but remembered just in time that I was not a girl at all in this pretty piece, but a young page learning his manners from the superior Tudors. “I should be delighted,” I said.

  It was not his house exactly, he explained, as we walked up the short drive to the imposing building where they had brought me, it belonged to his whole family and they all lived there whenever any of them came to Port-of-Spain.

  “Then he is related to you!” I exclaimed.

  “In a distant kind of way,” he admitted. He smiled. “I’m sorry about this, Camilla,” he said.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter. I was only frightened for a minute, but I knew somehow that you were at the back of it all—”

  “Now that,” he said, “is a very interesting statement. Are you telling me that that made everything all right?”