“Perhaps the girl was mistaken,” continued Father Reyes. “Maybe the child actually flies.” The other priests began to laugh at this comment. Artemus was in rare form today. He also gave the archdeacon a viciously ingenious idea.
“In that case, we must go to the bell tower!” This wiped the smile from Father Reyes’s face.
“You cannot be serious, Phillipe.”
“Oh but I am,” replied the archdeacon. “Thank you for your idea, Father Reyes.”
“You will not lay this insanity at my feet!”
“I am trying to perform an inquiry, Artemus. It is you who have allowed this child to make a mockery of these proceedings!”
“I can’t believe you intend to kill this child to spite me, Phillipe. Where is your compassion?”
“I believe the child is concealing her evil powers, Artemus. And I intend to—”
“And destroy Major Dugard’s property.”
“Monsieur Dugard trusts my judgment in this matter.”
“I wish I could. For even a slave deserves the protection of our Lord.”
“You dare paint my motives as contrary to our faith! I will speak to the bishop of your blasphemy.”
“Indeed. We should speak with his Excellency. He should be made aware of your murderous ambitions!”
“Nevertheless! We proceed to the tower!”
*
The detached bell tower rose over forty feet above the plaza. Like an old tooth, it was still white but had yellowed to the shade of dark ivory. It was a remnant of the Spanish regime and was constructed of limestone. The steps were also of limestone and were chipped and worn uneven with use. Nyira had never had to ascend more than twelve or fifteen steps, those leading to the Dugard veranda behind the kitchen. She found herself growing a bit light-headed from the breeze that was magnified as it snaked through the open squared windows that corresponded to every fifth or sixth step. She was also strangely exhilarated by the height. When they had gone halfway, she noticed a beautiful mural painted on the stairwell wall. It was of a woman holding a child and there appeared to be light coming out of her head. The woman didn’t look particularly pleased with her child, and Nyira wanted to ask who the woman in the picture was, but the somber nature of the procession didn’t lend itself to inquiry. The mounted police were so close behind her, she was likely to get pushed if she tried to slow down. And Father Reyes was not close enough for her question to fall on sympathetic ears.
As they ascended the last few steps, they entered into what appeared to be a bird sanctuary. There were a number of pigeons that apparently had been fed by someone because they were not startled at the sight of people coming into their space. One of the birds lit upon the archdeacon’s shoulder. He looked at the creature and smiled, making a strange little sound with his lips. This picture created an off-kilter image in Nyira’s mind, composed of tenderness merged with malice; she couldn’t reconcile it.
As Nyira gazed out over the distance, she could see what might be the valley not far from Enriquillo’s cave, and the undulating surf of the shore.
There was silence as the archdeacon regarded her, and then he looked at the pigeon. He flicked the bird from his shoulder, which made it fly at Nyira’s face.
“It’s attacking you, child!” Nyira just caught the bird on her finger and looked at the priest. Something in her green gaze unsettled the archdeacon.
“Guards! Do your duty!”
Two guards snatched Nyira up and tossed her from the tower. Luckily, she made eye contact with one of the guards. He held her by the arm as she dangled over the edge.
“All right, Phillipe!” cried Father Reyes. “I’m sorry! In the name of our Lord, do not sacrifice this child to prove a point. Though her life may not hold much value to her master, it’s your soul for which I fear! I see no sorceress in this dark creature, just an innocent child who has no understanding of her dire circumstances. She shouldn’t die because of our foolish pride. Search your heart!”
*
“I’m to be spared, Nol—I mean Esmerelda,” cried Nyira, still clinging to a beaming Father Reyes as he charged into the anteroom. “The archdeacon decided not to toss me from the bell tower!” She didn’t mention what she had to do to the guards. She decided it was better not to scare Nolwazie.
Esmerelda was already crying when she took the girl in her arms.
“Hush,” said Esmerelda, as she stood Nyira on her feet and pulled her out into the square leading from the church offices. “We must get back to the manor at once. The major has a hunt today, and the horses must be prepared.” They made their way to the carriage positioned near the stables just behind the building.
“But Diego has always prepared the horses for hunts,” said Nyira. “He has only taught me a par—” Esmerelda placed an index finger over the child’s lips.
“Shhh…” was all she said. She took the horse’s reins and headed out of the square.
When they were a half mile out of town, Esmerelda finally spoke.
“I didn’t want you to say anything that might renew the archdeacon’s inquiry. Many have lost their lives with a random remark when they thought the inquisition ended. Your joy could have given you away. And then we would all be doomed.”
“I’m sorry, Nolwazie. I made sure to control myself. Although I thought I might have to fly when the archdeacon ordered the guards to throw me from the tower.” Esmerelda was shocked at the idea.
“Then I’m glad they didn’t!”
“I’m only playing, Nolwazie.”
“But… can you fly?”
Nyira smiled.
“Yes,” said the girl. “Every night in my dreams.”
Esmerelda let out a sigh of relief. She didn’t even want to think of the consequences if someone saw the child fly.
“I know that I will one day. I don’t know why, but one day I may have to.”
31
A week following Nyira’s tribunal, the mounted police captured Enriquillo’s uncle, Jaceux.
His uncle had always seemed a tall man to the young Enriquillo, but seeing him in chains escorted by the strutting troop made him shrink. Invisible, he came abreast of his mother’s brother as they marched him into the square of Port-a-Piment. The boy found that he now appeared to be a full head taller than his uncle, who was smiling as if bound for a great feast, rather than a public death.
“Uncle, whence comes your joy?” asked Enriquillo. “They mean to give you death.”
“They are fools, nephew! I will live forever. You will protect our people, now. Look at how you stand. You are a giant. You could crush them with just the flick of your wrist. I’m happy.”
“What is this savage rambling about?” asked the sergeant escorting him to the gallows. “And why does he look so pleased with himself?” The Taíno interpreter could not look Jaceux in the eyes. It was believed that if you betrayed him, he would kill you in your dreams.
“He says you are fools,” said the interpreter. “And he spoke to someone named Enriquillo. He called him nephew.” When the chief regarded the thin, raggedly dressed Taíno man, the interpreter began to tremble.
“Alonso. I don’t blame you,” replied Jaceux. “Fear not. I will speak to our elders in Coaybay. Your dreams will be safe.” Alonso began to cry.
“You honor me, great cacique,” cried the man. “Say the word, and I will throw myself upon these devils and try to free you.”
“No. Save your life, my brother. Sing our names to these people so that our memories won’t die. Say the names of our elders, so their names remain a time longer.”
Alonso began to sing then; it was a Taíno areito that he’d learned from his father and his uncles. It included the names of all who had died and now included Jaceux’s name as well.
The procession led the chief and his few captured warriors up the steps of the gallows erected on the square in front of the Cabildo.
“Please, uncle!” implored a distraught Enriquillo. “Don’t leave me. If you give th
e order, I will set fire to these buildings. I can declare war on them with the warriors we have left.”
“You don’t need to fight, nephew. You need to live for my sister and our people and the dark princess. You must live so we all can live. I order you to return to the cave and celebrate with our people.”
A mounted police captain stood on the platform at the top of the gallows steps as they walked Jaceux up them. When they’d positioned he and his four captured warriors before the nooses, the man read the charges to the crowd.
“Jaceux, in the name of the French crown, you and the whole of your rebels have, in absentia, been convicted of kidnapping, assault, and insurrection. The sentence for which is death, to be carried out immediately.”
Enriquillo walked solemnly out of the square, past the market. He actually saw Nyira as she sorted through vegetables and fruits while Esmerelda negotiated with the fishmonger. He would’ve liked to have stopped and had a word with his beloved, but he didn’t want her to see him cry. At least she wasn’t among the crowd gathering in the square to watch the execution. He needed to think of a way to tell his mother that her bi-go was gone. Then a thought struck him: who would show him all the secret coves within the mountains? The boy turned back, to go and ask his uncle. He heard the crowd in the square raise their voices, and when they quieted, he knew Jaceaux was dead.
When he reached the cave, he went to a wall just past the entrance and spent over four hours drawing the history of his uncle as he evaded the French soldiers and maintained the stability of his village and people and became a mentor to his young nephew.
Higuamota went to her son and watched him as he progressed through the story. When he got to the part where he needed to draw the gallows, he couldn’t hold himself, he was so overcome. That’s when his mother took him in her arms. He was already as tall as she and ten pounds heavier, but she picked him up like he was still five years old.
“We must not be sad, my son,” said Higuamota. “Agueybana told me of my brother’s coming death last night while you slept. I didn’t have the courage to tell you. I was also afraid you would try to intervene, and I might have lost you as well. We must celebrate. Is that not what my bi-go said?”
“Yes,” replied Enriquillo. “But first I must cry, mother.”
“Then cry, my son. Just leave room to celebrate. My brother goes to the elders. That is a happy thing.”
“I will try, mother. I just wish it were night so that I could dream with my dark princess. I saw her today as I left the town. She was in the market. I couldn’t bear to speak to her with such sadness in my soul.”
The villagers from Jaceux’s tribe began to arrive for the celebration later that evening. They brought food and carved gifts to their cacique’s sister and then there were ball games played in the village batey. Once the celebration was about to end, Agueybana led both tribes in an areito about Jaceux’s deeds and a ceremonial dance around the large chamber.
*
The laughing and jubilation was too much for Enriquillo. He took a torch and other provisions and left the main chamber of the tribe and went farther into the cave. He didn’t stop at the boundaries; he chose to walk where only behike or shaman would go. At the boundary to the dark realm, he lit the small torch.
There were drawings along the walls of strange beasts and men dancing and fighting with evil spirits. He took no heed to the warnings of danger written in pictographs along some of the chambers.
After a while, as Enriquillo continued his off path journey, he no longer saw the signs of doom on the walls. Instead, there were skeletons—small and adult size. He at one point came upon a number of them, and they appeared to have been a family. There was the smaller woman with her hair flowing behind her, and a larger male whose hair was equally as long, and the two children. The farther he went, the warmer it got. He knew that he was traveling down into the earth. Agueybana had told him that as you get closer and closer to Coaybay, the earth got hotter.
Once Enriquillo had walked for what seemed like seven days, his torch went out. He sat down to rest and to have a bit of the dried fish he carried in the pouch at his waist. He finally went to sleep. It seemed he slept for days.
When he awoke the sun was on his face, and there was the smell of food cooking.
He saw his uncle Jaceux crouched next to a barbacoa roasting what looked like a hutia he’d killed.
“Uncle!” cried Enriquillo, and jumped up to embrace Jaceaux.
“Did you not remember what I told you, nephew?”
“…I—yes, uncle.” The boy was confused. He’d never seen his uncle angry before.
“You must return to our people, Enriquillo. You can’t just walk to Coaybay.”
The boy looked around.
“This is Coaybay? I didn’t realize there was so much sun here.”
“No, nephew. This is not Coaybay. This is the boundary before. You are in pre-death: The land of the Kopai. You must agree to turn back now, or you won’t see my sister or your dark princess ever again.”
“But it’s beautiful here, uncle. Why can I not visit you here? That way I can talk with you from time to time.”
“That’s not the way of this land, Enriquillo. You remember the bones you saw along your path?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“They are the remains of those who chose to stay too long, who wouldn’t allow their dead to sleep. So the Kopai kept them. I will feed you now nephew, but you must be about your way—lest you leave my sister broken hearted, and she soon joins us here. You’ve spent your life protecting her. What would she have if you didn’t return?”
Enriquillo knew that his uncle was right. Higuamota’s only reason for living was him. So the boy sat down to a wonderful meal of fried yams and hutia with his uncle. Jaceux also gave him enough to take with him so he wouldn’t be hungry on his trip back.
“Speak to me in your dreams, Enriquillo. That way I can spend time with you and your dark princess.” He embraced the boy and sent him on his way.
32
The week after Enriquillo’s visit with Jaceaux, someone left a potato in the jungle on the Bissett property. When he went to retrieve it, he found Juliette crying.
“What has happened?” asked Enriquillo. “Are you ready to escape?”
“Yes,” said Juliette. “But first I will need your healer to come to Bruno’s old cabin.”
“I will have to go and get her.”
“Please hurry. They are badly hurt.”
When they returned, Nyira brought enough cloth and herbs to bind a few people’s wounds. Esmerelda came, too. Partly to make sure Nyira came back with her. When they entered Bruno’s cabin, they found three hacked up people, one on the floor and two on the beds. The victim on the bed near the wall surprised Enriquillo.
“You didn’t tell me one of the injured was Christian,” said Enriquillo.
“I hoped it wouldn’t matter.”
As Nyira and Esmerelda prepared the bandages and boiled water for the herbs, they noticed something about Juliette.
“You didn’t move them here yourself, did you?” asked Esmerelda
“My sister Babette helped me.”
“When will your baby come?” asked Nyira.
“In the summer, I think,” replied Juliette.
Esmerelda pushed one of the chairs from the table over to her. “You need to sit down and rest.”
“No. I’m fine. I need to help.”
“Be careful, or your baby won’t make it till summer,” said Esmerelda.
“So you weren’t trying to escape?” asked Enriquillo.
“Not at first. But now we have to, or they will kill him.”
“As will Bruno. If he sees him.”
“Then you must take us to another part of the mountains.”
“He will still come and search for you.”
“Make sure to hide us well, divine one.”
“It may not be necessary,” said Esmerelda. “He’s bled too much.”
/> “Is this the man who almost killed Bruno?” asked Nyira.
“Yes,” replied Juliette. “He’s my husband. Can you help him?”
“I can try. Papa once told me that if the soul stays, the body will live.”
“How can you do that?”
“It takes a lot of energy. Papa would sleep for a week after he did it.”
Once they cleaned Christian’s wounds, Nyira sat down beside him on the bed. She remained still and quiet for almost half an hour. When she closed her eyes, Christian’s body floated up from the bed. Juliette gasped. As he began to rotate, the cuts and gashes in his flesh disappeared.
“What are you doing, Nyira?” asked Esmerelda.
“I am healing his outside wounds,” Nyira replied. “So his soul will feel safe. Then I will go inside.” She laid hands on Christian and brought him back down to the bed and placed her head on his chest.
… Nyira found herself wading through the forest near the Congo River. It had been a number of years, but the heat and foliage was just as thick, and the call of the cockatoo reminded her of the many hours she spent here, hiding from the women of her village. Who were always in search of her for tasks that little girls were supposed to do. Unfortunately, this visit was not for play. She heard someone breathing and moving around in the bush nearby.
“I hear you,” said Nyira. “I won’t hurt you. Please come out.”
“You can’t possibly hear me, girl,” replied a small voice. “I am a warrior and quieter than a leopard. You must leave. I’m hunting and must go soon.”
“What is your name, mighty warrior?”
“I am Mohamadou. I will be chief. I must kill a lion and take its hide to my village as proof of my skill.”
Nyira and the Invisible Boy Page 17
