Drum (22 page)

I

a shabby way the Cuban gentility and his furtive manner was a sure advertisement that he was a pimp. However, he was indulging in other business than pimping, for she saw the surreptitious spreading of white cards in his hand and the amused look of the Cuban who nodded for the fellow to follow him behind a pillar. Out of curiosity Rachel followed too and caught a quick glimpse of the pornography pictured on the cards. Although the plan did not come to her fully matured, she had the germ of it and she made a note of the fellow so that she would remember him, which would not be difficult as his flashy good looks made him conspicuous. When she arrived home, she counted the store of pesetas she had hoarded under a loose tile. They seemed ample.

During the several days that elapsed after she saw the quadroon, she completed her stratagem. It was a dangerous one for it involved her mistress and she knew it would forever put an end to Alix' relations with don Cesar as well as with Tamboura. But her mania for vengeance completely overshadowed everything else. With both don Cesar and Tamboura out of the way, she would have Alix to herself again, and if they faced poverty, so much the better. She would go out and work to support her mistress and thus demonstrate to an even higher degree her love and devotion. Better to be together in poverty than separated by Tamboura in affluence.

Having formulated her plan of action, she sought out the bright-skinned fellow one day in the market. He was not inclined to pay her any attention, as he saw no prospect for his wares in a decently dressed mestiza, but she halted him with the Cuban "p-sst." He stopped. After all, he could never be quite sure who might be a customer; he numbered among his patrons the Bishop's confessor, one of Havana's most pious dowagers, and the valet of the Governor General himself. Rachel sought shelter behind a barricade of wicker crates filled with clucking hens, and he followed her. Safe from passing eyes, he took a thin leather envelope from under his shirt and fanned out his wares in his hand. The pictures were revolting to Rachel but she recognized the effectiveness of the perverted poses. They were done in India ink and a few were colored, but all were lifelike.

She glanced through the spread-out fan without touching the cards and shook her head, refusing to accept for closer

examination one or two particularly revolting masterpieces which the fellow pressed upon her.

"Do you do these yourself?" she inquired.

"No, mujer, I merely sell them. They are done by an old man. Once he was a great artist in Italy."

"Then you could have him draw something special for me—something done entirely to my order?"

"A request which many of my regular customers make." The fellow laughed to display a row of flashing teeth. "To many these ordinary representations do not appeal. They wish the different, the unusual, the more exciting. And what would you like, mujer? Do you care for whips, scenes of torture?" He appraised her carefully. "Or would you prefer a drawing in which only women appear?"

She discovu^aged his familiarity with a disapproving stare. "It is not for myself, hombre. I have no interest in your filth. I merely act as agent for someone very important in \ Havana, who, if I but say the word, could have you clapped j in prison before night. However, if you are willing to do 1 business, we shall talk business. And price," she added.

"Si, senorita." The man's attitude changed abruptly and he appeared to lose some of his reptilian cunning. "You shall describe to me exactly what your patron wishes and I shall have it drawn for you in beautiful detail."

"And the price?"

"In ink or in colors?"

"There is a difference?"

"Por supuesto." He shrugged his shoulders at her ignorance. "The colored ones are far more artistic and," he smiled again, "much more realistic. These in black and white are only for the common trade."

"But the colored ones are more expensive?"

The Moorish ancestry of Spain held a heritage of bargaining in which both sides were prepared to indulge.

"For you, senorita, no! You and your patron are new customers, si?" He waited for her nod of agreement. "And I would have you for steady customers. Therefore on your first order I would make a low price, hoping you would find such satisfaction that you would want more and more and more."

"As I probably would," she agreed, knowing that she would never want to see this greasy-haired panderer again.

"Then, senorita, we shall make it very cheap, depending of course on the number of figures."

"Only two."

\

"Say five pesetas and in lifelike colors."

"Two pesetas," she countered.

"There is my commission to consider. So shall we say four?"

Rachel advanced her price.

"Three."

He spread the palms of his hands out in a gesture of defeat. "For you, I shall sacrifice my commission. Three it is."

"But there would be more than the mere sketch itself that I would require. It must be delivered and the delivery would take place in the country. It would necessitate the hire of a horse and a person of discretion, like yourself, to deliver it."

"How far from Havana?"

"Three hours to go—three to return," she answered.

"Ten pesetas for the hire of a horse and five for my time."

She made a rapid calculation on her fingers.

"Eighteen pesetas, all told?"

"And two more for my discretion." The ophidian gleam returned to his eyes.

She had twenty-one pesetas hidden in her room. She agreed. "And when will the sketch be finished?"

"Tomorrow at this hour."

"I would inspect it before it is delivered."

"Most certainly, senorita."

"Then I shall meet you here tomorrow with the money."

He concurred with another smile. "And now, senorita, the subject of the sketch."

"Your artist must visualize the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, blonde, with hair the color of spun gold, blue eyes and ..."

"... a figure like this?" The fellow's hands outlined a series of airy curves. "The artist is a master with women's figures, senorita."

"Yes, that will be one figure."

"And the other?"

"A Negro, an immense man, young, brutal but not necessarily ugly."

Despite his aplomb, the fellow was momentarily shocked.

"A white woman and a Negro? That is a most unusual combination, senorita. I have never had such a request before."

"My patron is a most unusual person."

"Granted! And what position should these two be in?" With his index finger against the little finger of his other hand he was prepared to catalogue a number of various perversions.

Rachel was not interested. "I shall leave that to the artist. His imagination is more fertile than mine. However there must be no doubt but that the woman is white and the Negro strong, young and handsome. And then I would like an inscription lettered on the bottom. Can you remember it?"

"Si, senorita."

"Cuando el goto va, entonces Iran a jugar los ratoncitos."

He replaced his sketches in the leather envelope and looked up at Rachel. The tip of his tongue protruded from his teeth and his eyes opened wide.

"The situation becomes apparent, senorita. When the cat is away, the mice most certainly do play. And such delightful little games they play—that big black rat and that pretty little white mouse. Ah, seiiorita, and can you blame them? What woman in her right mind would not rather have one of us instead of a white? If this beautiful blonde dama with the blue eyes should tire of her black boy, perhaps you could recommend me. I have been well trained, senorita, and I would know some tricks her black boy has not taught her."

"Undoubtedly you would, hombre." Rachel was trying hard not to show her abhorrence because the fellow was necessary to her and she must insure his good will. "It is possible that I could recommend you after this one has been disposed of."

He closed one eye slowly. "And the address to which this work of art will be delivered?"

"Tomorrow," she said, "after I have seen the picture." ,

When don Cesar returned to the big house for his midday meal and siesta, he was met by an excited house slave with a packet in his hand, which he proudly handed to his amo. The arrival of any communication at Montalvo was quite an event and don Cesar was puzzled by the shape and size of the packet. It was thin and square and stiff, much larger than a letter, and enveloped in a piece of white paper, now soiled by sweaty finger marks. Each end was sealed with blobs of red wax which bore no identifying crest. That he might give its contents his uninterrupted attention, he took it into his study, raised the persianas to flood the room with sunlight and sat down at his desk. With a sharp knife, he slit the wrappings to find another wrapping of thinner paper inside. CarambaJ It must be something precious! Another slit of the knife and the picture was exposed. As he looked at it, his hands shook. He gasped—a quick indrawing and expulsion of breath—and he jumped up to carry it to the window for closer inspection.

The imknown artist had done a most professional piece of work. The pearly tinted body lay across the bed. The head with staring blue eyes dulled and blinded by sexual ecstasy, himg over the edge of the mattress, and the gold hair swept the floor. The woman's hands clutched with frantic urgency at the huge Negro above her whose head was thrown back in a rapturous agony of unbridled animal lust. The woman was far more beautiful than Alix and the Negro more of an idealized Hercules than Tamboura but don Cesar immediately recognized what the drawing implied. His certainty was corroborated by the words at the bottom. So . . , the mice were playing while the cat was away! For Dios! What a game they played.

The picture revolted him yet excited him. It was impossible to look at it without a surge of stimulation. Its voluptuously limned debauchery fascinated him even while his

161

mind refused to accept what was so deliberately suggested. He carried the drawing back to his desk and propped it up before him to study it further. Could the message that it implied possibly be true? Who had sent it? A frantic examination of the wrappings revealed nothing and a hasty questioning of the slave who had received it gave no clue to the identity of the messenger who had delivered it.

No, it couldn't be true! He could never believe it of Alix; she was too fine, too wonderful, too loving. Why, she hated Negroes; feared them; could not even abide to have them near her. She had suffered so much from them in St. Domingue. His memory prompted him. Ah, but she had insisted that Tamboura was different. Tamboura, she had claimed, was the only male slave she would have in the house. She had even admitted that Tamboura was handsome. Well, he wasl His male perfection was enough to negate his color. But it could not be true. Caramba! It just could not be true!

Verdad, there were some \^o did not want him to marry Alix, Among them, who could have sent this cursed thing? He ticked them off on his fingers. Gregorio? Yes, Gregorio stood to lose much by his coming marriage and had been bitter about it. But Gregorio had never been to the house on Colon Street. He could not possibly know what Alix had been doing. The Mendoza aimt? She lived next door to Alix and she might have seen something or heard about it from slaves* gossip. It would be like Tia Maria to do such a thing and even though her house presented a totally blank wall to Alix' she might have had a spying slave on the roof to observe Alix: and Tamboura. But where would old Tia Maria, practically; housebound these last few months, obtain a picture like this? Then who else? Who else might know about such a liaison? Alix' servant Rachel? No, according to Alix the woman was madly enamored of Tamboura and she would not want toi destroy him. Omo and M'dong? Tamboura might have con-i fided in them. f

He rang for a slave and when the boy appeared, he senti him scurrying for M'dong and Omo. Don Cesar questioned^ them closely regarding Tamboura, without trying to brings Alix into it. The boys preserved blank faces. Although they were trembling within, for they were quite aware of the trend of the amo's questioning, the very evasiveness of their swers convinced don Cesar that they were stupid and knen nothing.

Like most men in his position, he had a few enemies

Havana. It must be one of them who was aware of Alix' household and was merely trying to ruin her and don Cesar's happiness at the same time. He told himself he was convinced of her innocence and that the picture was pure libel. But a serious charge like this demanded investigation. Certainly no greater calumny could be imagined against a white woman than to accuse her of relations with a slave.

He dispatched Omo and M'dong to saddle their horses, and clapped his big hat on his head to leave the house. As he reached the door of his study, he turned back to take a small pistol, scarcely larger than the palm of his hand, from the drawer of his desk and stuck it in his sash. There was a brace of pistols on his saddle but the smaller one was easier to hide. If there was nothing to the libel—as he was certain there wasn't—he would appear rather foolish, stalking into Alix' house with drawn pistols.

They did not stop to rest during the entire ride to Havana and they entered the gates before the siesta hours were over. The shops were still shuttered and the streets deserted. As they approached the comer of Colon Street, don Cesar dismounted, handed the reins to Omo and bade the two of them follow quietly on foot with the horses, then wait inside the stable until he called them. As he turned into the alley behind the house he quickened his pace, and when he reached the stable door he took the key which Alix had given him from his pocket, unlocked the door and opened it stealthily, so that it would make no noise on its hinges.

Inside, he passed the two carriage horses in their stalls and the hooded volante, and crept over to the ladder that led to the second floor. As his head appeared above the floor, he could see that the loft was deserted. But he scarcely expected to find Tamboura here, now that he and Rachel shared the bedroom on the third floor. Alix had said she felt safer with the slaves in the house, within calling distance. Through the small barred window, he had a clear view of the patio. Its midday somnolence was undisturbed. Nothing moved except a brilliant blue butterfly which hovered over the roses.