When they had worn themselves out, they harvested more monkey fruit, bananas and many other delicacies of Nyira’s jungle and had a sumptuous feast.
23
The first day of the following month was to be Enriquillo’s eleventh birthday. He knew his mother had planned a village feast, but the night before he was anxious and couldn’t sleep, so he dragged one of the canoes from their hiding place at the edge of the jungle, intending to go paddling on the ocean. He wanted to be awake when he turned eleven. He considered going to look for Nyira and have her share the moment with him. She was surely asleep at that hour. Her dream had been so powerful that he half expected to see Arak waiting for him at the spot on the beach where they usually cast off.
The moon was huge that night—as bright as a giant torch—and the stars were out too. This was a good omen. The tide was out. He would have to drag the canoe a few yards to meet the waves. The sea was calm and had a dark glossy solidity as if he could walk out onto the water and gaze down into the depths. Before he made it to the surf, he saw someone else had come out to walk along the shore as well.
Enriquillo stood for a moment and watched the person, looking to see if they were carrying a fire spear. As they came closer, he didn’t see one. The person looked familiar, or rather what they wore did. They were clothed in the hooded black garment preferred by those the white men called priests. Usually, during the heat of the summer, they kept their heads uncovered. This individual had his hood up. Perhaps it was too big for him since the garment dragged the ground as he walked. The priest appeared headed directly for him. Enriquillo had no desire to encounter a white man this evening and again began to drag his boat toward the waves. Something strange happened in the sky then: brightness like a burning hot coal streaked past the stars. He wondered if that was the moment, signifying his passage into eleven. He felt an odd tingling upon his skin, radiating up his arms. It was warm, but not hot, and it kept going all the way to his toes. He was practically naked and could see his skin emitted a kind of glow, like low moonlight. It was unsettling, but not painful.
This is definitely eleven, he thought to himself. He’d been so self-absorbed that he’d forgotten the priest. The white man had gotten much closer now. As he drew near Enriquillo discovered, that whoever it was wearing the hooded garment, it wasn’t a white man. Suddenly the being rushed him, and when the hood fell off, he saw that it wasn’t human either. It was a giant toad-like creature with huge bulging eyes and long jagged teeth. Enriquillo instinctively threw his arm up to shield himself, and when the thing tried to take a bite out of it, it let out a scream and was jolted about ten feet. Enriquillo had felt something hot go through him, but no pain.
“What kind of demon are you?” he asked it. He then had the distinct feeling that he could kill it if he chose to. Something outside him was compelling him to do just that. He dropped his boat and moved toward the thing. The creature seemed to discern the danger it was in. It scrambled to its feet and stumbled away through the jungle.
What just happened? And how did I know what to do?
If this was a dream, it was… He didn’t know what it would mean. He would maybe talk to Nyira about it.
24
The ministry for the slaves was always a difficult detail. A number of his subordinate priests were assigned this duty. Although when the Montoya plantation had a report of witchcraft he, as the archdeacon, was required to investigate. He didn’t relish going out to many of the plantations. Most of the slaves had a palpable air of desperation and fear about them, particularly after a punishment. Most of the Spanish nobles had long since sold out to their French counterparts. But Montoya, a former General in the Spanish brigades, wouldn’t concede his holdings to anyone, especially the French. The Spaniard’s property had slaves that were much more of a mix. There were families of Indians from the first Spanish settlers, still held by the Montoyas. The archdeacon was fluent in Spanish. It helped that he had Artemus to practice with, whose family was actually Spanish.
The Spanish manor was as large as a palace. The pillars of the front veranda were in the style of Roman columns.
Phillipe saw a woman in the front yard of the property as he pulled up in the parish carriage. Her clothes were torn off to expose her back. The flies were feasting on the shredded ribbons of bloody flesh. The archdeacon sat for a moment and watched. If she really was a witch, this was the least she deserved. The job of interrogation was rightly with the clerics. The whole procedure here had not been set up properly. It appeared no one was assigned to watch the woman, to observe if a spirit exited or entered her body. He had to be careful what he said here—these Castilians were rather unpredictable. He hoped the woman really was a witch because it had been almost a year since the last burning. He had not been Archdeacon then, so it wasn’t credited to his administration. Father Barineau had been moved up to the diocese, and now worked under the bishop.
When he got out of the carriage, the overseer, Meritricio Gonzales, approached from the side of the house. The man was medium height and rather rotund. They ate well, these Spaniards.
“Good evening, your grace,” said the overseer; he affected a slight bow as he approached.
“I’m not a bishop,” said the archdeacon, rather crossly. “Father will do fine.” He stood looking at the woman in the stocks. He could hear her moans now that he’d come closer.
“Is this the slave accused of witchcraft?” asked the archdeacon.
“Yes, Father,” hissed Meritricio. “This is the vile creature.”
“Is there a place I might question her? She will need to be removed from this contraption, of course.”
The overseer looked flustered as if the priest’s request was unheard of.
“But she has been condemned, Father. I—I don’t understand.”
The archdeacon simply stared at the man as he considered his statement.
“By whom?” asked Phillipe.
“I don’t understand…”
“I can’t imagine why. It is a very simple question. Who has condemned this slave?”
“The General, Father. We have already had her trial.”
“That is nonsense, sir! Only the Church is ordained to declare a witch. Remove this woman from these restraints!”
Meritricio turned the color of a man who’d been slapped. Phillipe had the notion to do just that if he were physically able. The nerve of these… The overseer went toward the manor and disappeared around the side of the house.
The archdeacon began to feel an ache in his lower back. He would’ve steadied himself on the implement the slave was being held in, but was repulsed by all the flies. He trudged back to the carriage and got himself inside to wait for the man’s return.
After Phillipe had sat in the carriage for about ten minutes, two male slaves came around the side of the house and began to unfasten the irons holding the woman within the device. The overseer returned just as they finished. He walked up to the carriage.
“The General has instructed me to take her to the barn, Father. You will be able to interview her there.”
“Will she be provided clothes to cover her nakedness?”
“Yes, Father. I will see to it personally. Give us a few moments to make everything ready.” He called to one of the male slaves. When the man got to him, Meritricio gave him an order that sent him running back toward the western part of the property.
*
When the archdeacon entered the barn, the slave was secured to a chair by leg shackles and was dressed in a dirty sack-like garment that covered her from the neck down. There were also four men and two women in the room, only one was not a slave—Meritricio.
“I will need a chair as well, Mr. Gonzales.”
This made the overseer snarl something at one of the male slaves. The boy looked stricken and ran from the room. He returned a few moments later carrying one of the chairs the Father saw on the veranda of the manor. It wasn’t comfortable, but Phillipe didn’t think this inquiry would
take very long.
The woman was not an African slave; she had some African features, but she was obviously combined with another race. Her hair was not wooly like some of the Negroes; it was thick and long and wavy. He had seen the offspring of an owner or an overseer and a slave. This woman was that but had a few other elements in her blood as well. What he found most compelling was that she was stunning. Her name was Almira—the overseer provided this information. She still appeared to be in a lot of pain and was leaning forward with her hands clasped in her lap, and she was mumbling. As he came closer and sat down before her, Phillipe was shocked to realize it was a prayer.
25
Enriquillo found Nyira in the stables the next morning. She was helping to muck out the horse stalls when he strolled in. Victor, a young slave of about nine, was working with her.
“Hi,” he said, standing right next to her. “I would like you to come to our village cave, to meet my mother.” Nyira tried to be nonchalant because she knew Victor couldn’t see or hear him.
“Not now,” she replied under her breath.
“What?” said Victor. “Not now what?” He looked confused.
“It was my mother who dreamed we would meet,” said Enriquillo.“She very much wants to meet you.”
“Just wait,” she mumbled. “I’m busy now.” Enriquillo was hurt.
“But the stuff you’re doing smells awful! It can’t possibly be more fun than coming with me! My mother will have a feast for my dark princess.”
“Go away. I can’t now.”
“But if I go away,” replied Victor, perplexed, “you’ll have to finish this by yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Victor,” said Nyira. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but I can finish this by myself.”
“But Diego will—”
“I will tell Diego. He won’t mind.”
“Oh… okay.” He perked up as he considered what he might do with his sudden free time, but still stood there, unable to choose.
“I believe there is a kickball game behind the barn,” said Nyira.
Victor smiled, dropped his shovel and fled in the direction of the barn.
“I don’t understand,” said Enriquillo. “I thought we had fun in our dreams.”
Nyira put down her shovel and led him into the next clean stall.
“I can’t leave now. I promised Nolwazie I wouldn’t draw attention to myself.”
“But no one is here. Who would know?”
“I have to stay. I promised. She has to teach me.”
“You have to be taught this? It doesn’t look very difficult.”
“More than this, Enriquillo. I also have to learn how not to be seen.”
“Can you be invisible? I would teach you, but I don’t know how it works.”
“No. That’s exactly what I can’t do,” said Nyira. “I can’t use my powers.”
“But what good is having them, if you can’t use them?”
“It scares Nolwazie. And I don’t want to be sold to someone to do tricks.”
“If they try to sell you, I can help you run away.”
“Maybe someday. But Nolwazie would be blamed if I ran away now.”
“That is why you should escape. And she should, too.”
“I still must wait. Papa told me to hear my heart, and I will see the right time. It’s not time yet. I also can’t just start speaking to someone that no one else can see. Only the priests are allowed to do that.”
“You should be careful of those priests,” said Enriquillo. “They’re dangerous.”
“Yes. I know.”
“So can we go and meet my mother now?”
“I can’t just leave. I’ll come tonight, when everyone is asleep.”
“Okay,” he replied, but still looked a bit sullen.
“I also have to finish this awful smelling stuff. Unless you would like to stay and help me.”
“No—I—I’d better go,” said Enriquillo. He left the stable quickly.
“Just like a boy,” said Nyira, shaking her head, and went back to mucking.
*
Nyira snuck out of the cottage after Claude and Esmerelda went to sleep. Her pallet was in the front room—not too far from the door. She opened it slowly, and it made the slightest squeak. Enriquillo was waiting at the stables.
“Shhh,” she whispered, holding a finger to his lips. They hurried to the jungle behind the property.
“I wanted to get away from the property before you started to speak,” Nyira said. “How far is your village?”
“We can’t go now,” said Enriquillo. “Something has happened, and my friends need our help.”
“What friends?”
“They are farther into the mountain.”
“Friends from your tribe?”
“They’re from your tribe, actually. I helped them escape.”
“There are slaves hiding in the mountains?”
“Yes. And a number of them are hurt and needs a healer. Will you come?”
“Yes, but what about Agueybana? Your medicine man?”
“How do you know about him?”
“While you were in my dreams, I met him in yours. He needed help with your monsters.”
“He doesn’t agree with what I’m doing. He believes it will endanger the tribe.”
“And you still want to help?”
“I have to, after meeting Abiodun. I can’t imagine being stolen away from my people.”
“I wish I couldn’t.” She sat down beside an elm tree and sobbed for a while. Enriquillo sat down beside her. She leaned her head on his should. She hadn’t really leaned on anyone since Gord. “You will be a brave cacique,” she said and gave him a hug.
“So will you, my cacica. Now we must go. Mounted police search this area for runaways.”
They traveled along the base of the mountain, by a trail through the jungle the Taíno had established over six hundred years before. There was no way to see it. You had to be led. There was a quarter moon. Nyira found the jungle canopy was not as thick. She actually saw her hands in front of her face, and was surprised that she felt out of her element, almost lost. Even the breeze smelled different. She realized that that was because of the ocean.
“Bruno’s camp is about ten miles into the mountains. We won’t have to go that far.”
“Why not?”
“The injured are taken to a lower camp. To tend their wounds.”
*
The lower camp was only two miles into the mountains. When they arrived, Nyira saw five injured runaways. The camp wasn’t high enough for it to be cold, but the air was cool and thinner compared to the dense humidity of the jungle. One of the injured slaves was a man named Peter. Peter had been struck on the head and stabbed in the shoulder. Nyira was shocked at the injuries. The others had stab wounds as well. One was already dead.
This was not as bad as the ship, though there she had had an agreement with death—for sickness. One of the injured was a woman. Nyira went to her first. She looked afraid of the child.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m called Yiella. Are you the sorceress from the ship?”
“You were on the Dutch ship?”
“No. But a woman I worked beside was. She described you exactly, right down to your green eyes.”
“What happened to you, Yiella?”
“The Mandinka, Christian, attacked us. He thought we were trying to help his wife escape.”
“She’s not his wife!” declared another slim slave who was not injured. “He stole her from me!”
“You’re Bruno,” said Nyira, looking at him. Bruno had stepped away from tending to one of the other injured men. Nyira recognized him by the two missing fingers. Enriquillo had told her about the battle.
“Yes,” said Bruno. “And it’s my fault they got hurt.”
“What did you do,” asked Enriquillo. Before he could answer, there came a surprise out of the darkness.
“Nyira!” cried Esmerelda. The cook s
tumbled breathless into the camp and collapsed. “Are you going to escape?”
Nyira was speechless for a moment.
“Nolwazie… what are you? How did—”
“I heard you go out the door.”
“I promise I’m not. I came with Enriquillo. Why did you come so far? You should’ve said something.”
“I didn’t know what to say. I was shocked. I thought you were happy with Claude and me.” She leaned forward and placed her head in her hands. “Oh, I’m so tired. I don’t know what to do! I can’t get back!” She began to cry. Nyira went and embraced her.
“Nolwazie, I’m sorry. Don’t cry. We’ll get you back. Can you get her water, Enriquillo? She looks thirsty.”
Bruno stepped forward and handed Esmerelda a large drinking gourd.
“Is there no way we can convince you to stay, Nolwazie? You’re already here.” He smiled, and Nyira could see that he fancied her.
“I… no. I have Claude. He would be lost without me. I have to go back.”
“We will,” said Nyira. “But I must clean and wrap their wounds first. Enriquillo, can you get me some plants from along the trail? The blue and the yellow flowers, some leaves from the star fruit tree and palmetto leaves. Also, some bark from the pine tree. Nolwazie, would you be willing to part with a section of your dress?”
Esmerelda was hesitant.
“I made this dress,” she cried. “It’s one of my favorites…” Then she looked around at the other individuals present, many from plantations nowhere near as hospitable as the Dugards. What clothes they wore were rags. Some of them were lying on the ground, bleeding badly. “So you know how to help them, Nyira?” She stood up, turned around, and tore the lower section of her dress and handed it to the girl.
“Thank you, Nolwazie.” She tore a section and dropped it into the small pot Bruno handed to Nolwazie. Who then filled it with water from the drinking gourd, and set it on the fire.
Nyira and the Invisible Boy Page 15
