Drum (16 page)

An hour or so before noon, they turned off the road between the tall white gateposts and the wrought-iron gates of Las Delicias, and cantered slowly up the long avenue of palms to the house.

Tamboura leaped from his horse and helped don Cesar to dismount. He removed the saddle bags, and was about to take the two horses around to the stables when don Cesar's restraining hand and a shake of his head stopped him.

"We are guests here, boy, so we have servants to wait on both of us. You come along with me. Their stable boy attends to our horses, then later, as they are our property, you must check to see that they are properly fed and stabled. A servant will meet you as we go in and he will show you where my room is. Take my things up there, unpack them and hang them up so they will not be wrinkled. Then ask the servant where you will sleep and go there, remove your white suit and boots and change to the black suit. Return to my room and await me there."

Tamboura followed out the amo's instructions. He found that he had been allotted a dark little cubbyhole on the ground floor, under the wide encircling verandah—a cell-like little room with a tiny barred window and a mattress on the floor. It seemed altogether too solid and too confining to Tamboura, accustomed as he was to the more primitive

thatched bohios. But the joy of dressing in his new black clothes and the comfort of the soft slippers, after he managed to remove the boots, was welcome. He still had some trouble with the buttons but finally managed to get them all into the right holes. He found his way back through the high-ceilinged rooms, which contained so many wonderful things to look at and examine he was torn between his duty to rep>ort promptly to don C6sar and a desire to examine everything he saw. Truly this house was as wonderful as the big house at Montalvo. Although not nearly so large it seemed brighter and more cheerful, for the blinds at Montalvo were always closed, causing a dim twilight even at midday. When he reached don Cesar's room he found that the amo did not need him after all—he had already changed and was ready to go down to eat. He dismissed Tamboura and told him to go down to the kitchen for his meal.

This time Tamboura hurried through the big rooms, as they were now filling with men, although twice he was stopped by polished and glistening Cubanos who asked, "Whose man are you?" Each time he proudly answered, "Don Cesar's."

Down in the kitchens he found everything in confusion as the household staff rushed madly about to get the elaborate meal with its wines up to the dining room. For the next two hours there was a constant flow of black-coated slaves with loaded trays going up the stairs and others coming down with equally heavy ones. Nobody pressed him into service, however, as they were all a bit awed by the presence of the great don Cesar's handsome giant in his fashionable clothes. Many of the wenches cast inviting glances at him. Tamboura, his desires always near the surface, ogled them in return and replied to their inviting smiles with a grin of his own which promised much if the opportunity were available.

The hubbub died down after the tall yellow-skinned mayor-domo ascended the stairs carrying a big silver tray with a steaming silver urn of coffee. Tam6oura wondered when he. himself, was supposed to eat, for he had had nothing since early breakfast at Montalvo. He saw a number of slaves clearing the big table in the kitchen and when at last the condescending mayordomo —a pendejo who seemed to take himself very seriously and was not at all awed by Tamboura—returned from upstairs, he called to Tamboura to come in and eat. He had scarcely taken the first mouthful when a bell—one of a long series that lined a wall of the kitchen—^jangled on its curved spring.

dmm 113

The mayordomo cursed all white masters in fluent Spanish, but jumped up as quickly as his dignity would permit and ran upstairs, only to return in a moment with a look of utter disgust to summon Tamboura to the dining room above. He followed the mestizo up the stairs and into the big room where a number of men were sitting around a big table. There were no ladies present and the air, despite the taU open windows, was blue with smoke. Everyone in the room was laughing and they were all looking at don Cesar, who was pufl&ng out volumes of smoke and laughing at the same time. He looked up to see Tamboura enter.

"And here, senores," he said with a flourish of his arm, making the diamond ring on his finger sparkle, "here, in the flesh, is the answer to the riddle that none of you could solve. This indeed is he who rides the stallion all day and the mare all night. He aqui, my slave Tamboura!"

His finger beckoned to Tamboura to come around to the side of the table and stand beside him.

"Yes, senores," he continued between sips of sherry, "some two years ago, I told you of my plan to make the Finca Montalvo entirely independent of Africa as a source of slaves. One of my first purchases after I embarked on that program was this man. I judged him to be about eighteen when I bought him, which makes him about twenty now, and I can tell you"—Don Cesar brought his fist down on the table for greater emphasis—"in two years this fellow has produced ten negritos for me—seven boys and three girls— each one of them strong, healthy and vigorous. And there's probably another on the way. If I can find a supply of fine wenches, I'll stud him even more in the next twenty years and I figure that I'll get about two hundred slaves out of him—prime niggers, better than anything I can buy from Africa, for they'll all be hand-raised, civilized and able to speak Spanish."

"A magnificent specimen, don Cesar." One of the younger men regarded Tamboura. "He reminds me of a fine toro — the same heavy shoulders and lean flanks. A regular beast of a man."

"But gentle as a kitten." Don C6sar smiled and slapped Tamboura's buttocks under the shiny mohair. "Wouldn't harm a mosquito. He's never been housebroken. I'm just starting him in and I find him quick, intelligent and most docile."

Tamboura understood their Spanish and straightened up, spreading his shoulders under his coat.

"Handsome, too. Doesn't look like the usual run of niggers," another voice spoke up.

"No, senores, you may never have seen one like this before, as they are rare. This is Royal Hausa—the best blood in Africa. Notice the shape of the head, round and full without a sloping forehead; observe the fine straight nose and the smaller nostrils, the thinner lips and particularly the over-all bearing of the fellow. His ancestors have ruled for generations and it's quite apparent. There's not a mean streak in the boy, gentle all through and a real thoroughbred."

The younger man, who had compared Tamboura to a fighting bull, came over close to him and felt the muscles of his arms.

"As I said, a regular toro bravo. Did you ever think of matching him, don Cesar?"

"He's a breeder, Raimundo," don Cesar answered the owner of Las Delicias.

The other men crowded around Tamboura, some of them testing his strength as don Raimundo had done. Don Cesar's pride in him was evident as he sat back and watched the others admire his slave.

"But that bulge in his pantaloons, don Cesar?" Again it was don Raimundo speaking. "Surely you must have had it padded, the more to surprise us."

"Padding? Merdal That's the boy himself. Tamboura needs none of the padding that the young bloods of Havana use to cover their own deficiencies. If that boy had any more he'd be useless as a breeder, for no wench could take 'him."

Most of the men sauntered back to their chairs but don j Raimundo remained standing beside Tamboura. He slapped J him affectionately on the shoulder and turned to don Cesar, j

"Cesar, amigo mio, un favor. Sell him to me."

Don Cesar shook his head in denial.

"Then promise me this." Don Raimundo was insistent. "If you should ever decide to sell him, give me the first refusal.""

"Granted, Raimundo, but I have no desire to sell him."

Tamboura breathed deeply. The crucial moment had passed and he was safe. He had no desire to leave Montalvo; to leave M'dong and Omo, Mama Baba and the security of her dirty bohio; his splendid new clothes and his amo bendido.

But still don Raimundo persisted. "Then, if you will noti sell him, loan him to me for a week."

"It's possible, mi amigo." Don Cesar flicked the long gray ash from his cigar onto the tiled floor. *'But I have need of him. Besides his other duties, he's my groom, you know."

"Then today," don Raimundo importuned. "We approach the hour of the siesta. Grant me his services today. My wife's maid, sister of my mayordomo, who, as you may have guessed by the rather strong family resemblance, happens to be my half-brother, is beautiful as a picture." Don Raimundo kissed the tips of his fingers and tossed the kiss into the air. "A mestiza, yes, but truly a virgin as my wife has never let any buck touch her. What a unionl What an offspring! Just a week ago I was telling my wife that Julita should be bred and my wife insisted that there was not a buck on the plantation good enough for her pet. I would be glad to do it myself, senores, but my wife is a very jealous woman. So, grant me this favor, Cesar, and name your fee."

Don Cesar dispensed with the matter of any fee with a wave of his hand. He turned to Tamboura.

"How are you feeling, boy?"

"Muy bien, amo."

"Think you could cover one of don Raimundo's wenches for him?"

"Si, amo, con mucho gusto."

"And do a good job?"

"Seguramente, amo."

Don Cesar turned to his host. "The boy's yours, Raimundo, for the siesta hours and, to make doubly sure, for tonight if you so desire. He's willing and I'm damn sure he's able."

"It would be something to watch, don Cesar." An old man with a ravaged face leaned across the table, his heavily ringed fingers drunrmiing nervously on the polished wood. "I always keep close watch on my mares when they are being covered."

"I do not regard Tamboura as wholly a beast," don Cesar answered courteously, although there was a trace of annoyance in the words. "He may be an animal but he walks upright like a man and he has the feelings of a man. I ask you, Seiior Sanchez, could you perform effectively with the eyes of twenty men upon you?"

The old man recognized the rebuff of being addressed by jhis surname and the formal title. He withdrew his hand and }2lX back in his chair. Others, who had been hopeful of seeing what Sanchez alone had had the temerity to request, tried to

conceal their disappointment. It would have been an interesting spectacle, particularly if the girl really was the virgin that don Raimundo claimed her to be.

Again Tamboura sighed with relief. He could not envisage himself performing with the eyes of all these men watching him.

"I'll call for the girl," Don Raimundo broke the awkward silence. "I'd like you gentlemen to see her, too." He walked to the wall and pulled at the embroidered bell cord. The bell jangled far off in the kitchen below. Soon the pompous mayordomo arrived.

"A sus ordenes, amo," he bowed slightly to don Raimundo.

"Clemente, go to la ama and tell her that I crave her permission for Julita to be sent here. If she grants that permission, find Julita and bring her here at once."

"Julita, amo?" Clemente's eyes searched don Raimundo's face.

"You heard me, Clemente."

"But Julita, amo, what do you desire of her?"

Don Raimundo straightened like a Toledo blade that had been bent in a swordsman's hand and then suddenly released. Like the sharp blade, his voice had the edge of steel.

"You dare ask me a question, Clemente, about what I intend to do? Very well then, since the question is asked, I shall answer you. Your precious sister is going to be bedded with this man here"—he pointed to Tamboura—"and it matters not one whit whether you like it or she Ukes it or even if my wife likes it. Now, go, fetch her, and after you return with her, go immediately to the stables and seek Ayuba. Tell him to grease the big whip and you wait with him while he does it. I will come presently."

"Would you have me whipped, amo?" Clemente's facesj was contorted with fear.

"I would and I shall add ten more lashes for the second^ question, Clemente."

"Mercy, amo." The man's knees were slowly collapsing and he knelt on the floor before don Raimundo. i

"And ten more lashes for every second you remain herej pleading."

The slave, his yellow face livid, struggled to his feet and stumbled to the door. i

Don Raimundo smiled at his guests. "Although my gooc, friend, Cesar, in granting me the immense favor he has^ does not think it apt for us to witness his stallion cover mj

mare, I think I can offer you an equally entertaining pasa-tientpo. My mayordomo has never been flogged before so his back should be sufficiently tender to warrant some squeals which may amuse you."

"I always string mine up by the heels." Sanchez, who had been so avid to witness Tamboura's exhibition, was smiling with anticipation.

"They swing too much that way," another spoke up. "Don't get the full bite of the whip."

"We have a set of irons on a brick wall," another contributed. "With something solid in front of them, they feel it right good."

Don Raimundo lifted his shoulders slightly in a little gesture of apology. "Sorry, senores, we are hopelessly old-fashioned here. We still use the same post my grandfather set up in the corral but with Ayuba at the whip, I think you will be well amused. He lays it on well as he has had much practice."

The door opened slowly and Clemente entered with a girl behind him. Her face was as pale as his and she was weeping. Don Raimundo called her to him.

"Wipe away your tears, Julita. Is that any way to greet your first man? See what I have found for you." He pointed to Tamboura.

Tamboura had heard and understood all that had happened. He was trembling inwardly, feeling the hot pain on his own back that he knew would soon be inflicted on Clemente. His fear had even conquered his anticipatory tumescence, but when he saw the girl, all pity for the cringing Clemente vanished. His desire revived with her beauty. She vjas a year or so younger than he and far whiter than any girl he had ever had before. Her long hair hung in curls to her shoulders and the dress that she wore was not the shapeless sack that covered the slave women back at Montalvo. It was white and belted in at the waist with a blue ribbon. Tiny gold earrings hung from her ears and a string of white beads around her neck set off her tawny skin. Don Raimundo took her arm and stood her beside Tamboura. She reached barely his shoulders.