Cross on the Drum

by Cave, Hugh

  Peter, chuckling, patted his face with a handkerchief and leaned against a wall. "Do you mind if I sit down for a minute? I'm out of breath from listening to you."

  Barry brought chairs from his own bedroom. They sat in the empty room that would be Peter's and looked at each other and laughed. Presently Peter said, "What about Catus Laroche? Where do you stand with him now?"

  "I don't know exactly. The day after Lemke was shot I persuaded him to go to the mainland and try to find his sister. He hasn't returned. We had no chance to talk about anything much before he left."

  "When he returns, what will you talk about?"

  "Well, not about his attempt to poison me, if that's what you mean. I can't hold that against him, Peter. He had his reasons for wanting me dead, or thought he did. The memory of that poisoned chicken disturbs my sleep now and then; I won't deny it. But poison as a weapon doesn't horrify these people as it does us. Leaves, roots, herbs—they're part of a peasant's everyday life."

  Peter nodded. "That's the right attitude, I'm sure. If you had him arrested you'd gain nothing. Besides, you'd have to prove him guilty."

  "I don't want to prove anyone guilty."

  "Did you have many in church last Sunday?"

  "The church was full," Barry said. "Which surprised me, because almost no one came to Lemke's funeral." He leaned toward Peter with a frown. "How did they take Lemke's death at Plantation Couronne, Peter? Who will they be sending over to take his place?"

  "The fact that he was shot to death gave them a jolt, of course. There were no personal reactions that I could see. As for sending someone else, I'm not sure they will. The price of sisal is still dropping, Jeff tells me. They may simply abandon their acreage over here."

  "I hope they do. The land is needed for food crops."

  "Well, there'd be a lot of dickering to do. It's their land, you know. You might lease it or something."

  "Do you think Jeff would talk to me?"

  "Why shouldn't he? Because of Edith, you mean?"

  Barry nodded.

  "I can't see why Jeff should be angry with you just because you and Edith didn't hit it off," Peter said, shrugging. "But be patient, boy. I know the word `patience' is Greek to you, but it is in the dictionary. Let me sound him out. The world wasn't built in a day."

  "I know. Six days." Barry kept a straight face. "It's in the Bible—"

  "—If you'll look for it, boy," Peter finished with a grin.

  30

  CATUS LAROCHE RETURNED to Ile du Vent that afternoon. An hour after setting foot on the island he appeared at the mission.

  Barry and Alma were discussing their marriage plans with Peter Ambrose.

  "Mon Père," the houngan said, "I found my sister in the capital and brought her back."

  "I'm glad to hear it, Catus."

  "She is sorry for what she did. She has told me why she did it. I know now that you were in no way to blame."

  "We're going to forget all that, Catus. All of us."

  Catus glanced at Alma and Peter and seemed to hesitate. "There is something else I would like to discuss with you, mon Père," he said. "Can we talk in private?"

  Barry led him across the clearing to the old church, closing the door behind them when they were inside. He walked down the aisle and sat on a bench near the front. Catus, following, gazed at the altar table a moment before turning to face him. He remained standing.

  "Mon Père, my people think you died and came to life again, like this Jesus you believe in."

  "I know."

  "Is it true?"

  Barry smiled. "If I said yes, would you believe me?"

  "You have never lied to me."

  "No, I've never lied to you. I won't lie to you now, Catus. I could, and there'd be no possible way for you to know I was lying unless Lucy told you the truth, which she would never do. I've thought a good deal about this. I've been tempted, don't think I haven't, to let you and your people think a miracle took place. The power such a belief would place in my hands would be tremendous. But I've decided against it. In church tomorrow I'm going to tell the people exactly what happened. I didn't eat your poisoned chicken, Catus. Lucy discovered it in time."

  Catus sat on a bench across the aisle and frowned at him. "You will tell the people this? Why?"

  "Because I think we've made a start, you and I, toward discovering what we believe in, and magic has no place in it. We've got to be honest with each other, Catus, or we'll wind up as enemies. We've got to be honest with the people too."

  "Am I supposed to stop believing in the magic of vodun?"

  "Unless you feel it is genuine, yes."

  "How am I to know whether it is genuine or not?"

  "By a simple test that can be applied to any set of beliefs. If a thing is good and helpful, accept it. If it is bad, consider it false. Remember this: no man has ever actually solved the mystery of life, Catus. No man can tell you who you are, or who I am, or why we are here. All religions, yours, mine, all the others, are simply a search for truth. Look for it in darkness and you're going to find only dark and frightening answers. Search in the light and you'll lift yourself up to the light."

  "Yes."

  "That's why I've brought you the teachings of Jesus Christ. They're good for us. No matter who Jesus was—the son of God, God himself, or just a great and good man—he gave us a way of living together that is better than any other way we know. If every man on this island would heed what he said, we'd all be brothers."

  "I agree."

  "Then help me to teach what he taught. Make a place for Christ in your vodun. Talk about his teachings there and let the light in. Give your people a chance to choose love instead of fear, light instead of darkness. Help them to choose what is best for them."

  "Love God," Catus murmured, "and love one another. Very well. But how am I to explain this God they must love?"

  "The only way he can be explained. As the greatest of all mysteries, the Father of us all, who made us and loves us and will look out for us if we behave ourselves. We don't know who God is, Catus. We'll never know while we're alive. But if we believe in a good creator and use that belief to help ourselves and our fellow men, we're at least on the right track. No one can do more."

  Catus rose to his feet, his hand extended. "Mon frere, I think you are an honest man. I think I have always known it. It will not be hard to teach my people to love you. I love you myself."

  He turned and walked down the aisle, opened the church door, and departed without a backward glance. Barry gazed after him, frowning.

  Mon frere, Barry thought. My brother. A curious phrase for Catus to use, and the first time he had ever used it.

  Brothers. A vodun houngan and a Christian missionary. A black man and a white.

  This was the real beginning.