Drum (27 page)

Rachel looked quickly from Alix to Drum. Her eyes begged him, pleaded with him. He caught her look and the lowering of his eyelids promised her that he would make an effort to be compliant, whatever was demanded of him.

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"Close the door behind you, Rachel." Alix continued. 'Tell Titine to knock before she enters. And when you return, don't come in. Leave the clothes on the floor outside the door." She waited for Rachel to go and for the door to close.

"Now, Drum." Alix was smiling and when she smiled she was always most channing. "We must save these beautiful clothes that Dominique gave you for very special occasions. We mustn't get them soiled. You had better take them off."

"Oui, madame." Drum recognized the wisdom of her words. "And where shall I go? Do I occupy Onesime's room?"

"Where shall you go, you idiot!" Alix' smile vanished. "Where shall you go? Take them oflf here."

"But, madame.. .."

"You heard me. Shuck yourself out of those clothes, boy! If I were buying you at Maspero's exchange, do you think for one moment, I wouldn't have you shuck down? Nobody in his right mind ever buys a slave with clothes, and you've been away so long it's just like I was buying a new slave."

"But, madame...."

"No more buts. Do as I say and quick! You might as well learn right now that when I speak, you jump. You may be Rachel's son but that won't stop me from sending you to the whips."

"I've never been whipped yet, madame. Dominique You never had reason to whip me."

"There's always a first time when a nigger gets uppity. Now shuck."

Drum's big fingers undid the cameo pin which he slipped into his pocket. They pulled on the knot of the cravat and loosened it. He imwound it from his neck and tossed it on a chair.

"Fold it and put it on the table," Alix commanded. "You've got to learn to take care of things that cost money."

He folded it and then removed the coat, standing before her in the full, long-sleeved shirt.

"Go on," Alix prompted him, "what are you waiting for?"

One by one he imbuttoned the tiny pearl buttons of the shirt, but before he could take it oflf, he had to unwind the sash aroimd his waist. When it was removed, he remembered to fold it carefully and place it beside the cravat. Now he was able to sUp the shirt oflf and he hvmg it over the coat on the chair.

"BootsI" Alix pointed down to his feet and he shpped

off his shoes, spreading his toes in comfort in his white socks.

"Stand them together under the chair. Be orderly. And now, your trousers."

"My trousers?"

"Yes, goddamn it, your trousers, pants, breeches, whatever you call them."

He hesitated but there was no avoiding her stare. The trousers presented some difficulty, for the broadcloth was now damp with his sweat and stuck to his legs, but he peeled them off, folded them carefully along the seams and laid them across the chair. He stood before her in his white linen drawers and his white socks, the white making a vivid contrast to his amber skin.

"Well?" she questioned, but she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Titine?" Alix called.

"Oui, madame."

"Come in."

The door opened to admit Alix' most beautiful and most provocative quadroon girl. Her skin, with the creamy texture of a magnolia petal, was a deep gold; her finely featured face devoid of make-up; no paint ever invented could have made her more beautiful. The long, lustrous black hair was carelessly wound in a knot on top of her head and skewered with a long gold pin. She was warm and living, but artificial in her beauty, like an exotic plant that has been grown under glass, almost too perfect. She clutched the filmy robe about her as she entered, lifting it so she would not trip on the froth of ruffles at the bottom, but instead of looking at Alix, she stared at the handsome stranger who was standing near the bed clad only in his drawers.

"Bon jour, Titine." Alix was all smiles again. "This is Drum, Rachel's son. He will be here now instead of Onesime. Titine, can you believe it, our poor Drum is a bit pudique. Imagine a big fellow like that being bashful in front of an old woman like me. He hesitates to remove his drawers, Titine. Perhaps you could help him."

"A pleasure, madame." Titine glided over to Drum, and lifting her hand from the robe she was holding together, she touched the hollow of Drum's throat, then, ever so lightly, her fingers slid slowly down the cleavage of his chest to manipulate the one button that held his drawers. With a pretty

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gesture, she popped the button out of its hole and the drawers fell to his ankles,

"C'est un phenomene!" she exclaimed.

Alix stared and clapped her pudgy hands gleefully together,

"I think our Drum deserves a reward. Give him a kiss, Titine—and let's see what happens."

The girl enveloped Drum in her arms, pressing her lips and her body against his. His hands, which had been hanging awkwardly at his sides, made a tentative movement, then suddenly seized her, slipping under the thin robe and pulling her to him. For a long moment they kissed, until interrupted by Alix.

"He's been rewarded quite enough, Titine. Step back!"

Again Alix regarded Drum and this time her hands clapped even more enthusiastically.

"I think he'll do, don't you, Titine?"

"Marvelously, madame, marvelously. He'll be so much more fun than Onesime. Mon Dieu! What a very monument of a man."

"That's why he's here. And now, Titine, you can go to your room. Oh yes, you'll find some clothes at the door. Hand them in to Drum."

"One more kiss, madame?" Titine opened her eyes wide and fluttered her lashes. "S'il vous plait?"

"Get along with you! One more kiss like that first one and you'd ruin the poor boy." She pointed to Drum. "Regardez! At least we shall save money on oysters."

Titine swept out, albeit reluctantly. As she opened the door, she reached down and scooped up the rough cotton shirt and trousers which were lying on the floor and came back into the room and handed them to Drum. Defying her mistress, she kissed him quickly, then rushed out of the room.

"Working here will not be too bad, will it Drum?" Alix;^ chuckled.

For the first time in their interview, he grinned.

"Mais non, madamef But it may be difficult in another i way. A man can be tantalized to a certain point. . . ."

"You will find plenty of opportunities to go beyond thati point." Her smile faded and she became serious. There was no longer any intimacy in her voice. "Now, Drum, let us understand each other well. You are Rachel's son and Rachel! is a fine slave. Never once have I ever had to discipline her. II

hope you take after her. But remember this." She pointed a finger at him. "Rachel's son or not, I'll stand no nonsense from you. You'll do as you're told, when you're told and without any back talk. You'll attend to the heavier work around here but you'll not find it too difficult. At night, you'll tend bar in the main salon. Onesime will teach you to mix drinks before he leaves. From time to time you'll assist my girls in putting on entertainments for my patrons. You'll probably enjoy that part of it—Onesime always has, at least until lately—but whether you enjoy it or not, you'll do it. Is that clear?"

"And may I ask of what the entertainments will consist?" Drum was most respectful, although he felt rather foolish, bowing without any clothes on. "I do not play the fiddle, madame, but I can do pretty well on the bones." He quite realized his position. No longer was he in the free and easy atmosphere of Dominique's shop. This woman was his mis-tess. She owned him and she meant every word she said. Her surface softness did not hide the iron wjll underneath.

"You'll not be required to play the fiddle here. Of that I can assure you, and as far as the entertainments are concerned, you'll know what to do when the time comes. However, there's one other thing that's very important,"

"Oui, madame." Drum wished she would give him a chance to put on his clothes.

"You've got hot blood in your veins as you just demonstrated a few moments ago. From now on, you'll be living here among the most beautiful girls in the city. You'll be tempted, for they will go out of their way to tempt you, just as Titine did a few minutes ago. They'll find all sorts of excuses to get you into their rooms—the shutters will jam; the baire will fall down; the wardrobe door won't open. But keep your hands ofif them and keep their hands off you. At times you'll have full permission to touch them—the colored girls, never the white ones-—but if I catch you fooling around with them without my permission, I'll raise such welts on your back youll sleep on your belly for a month." She paused to let the full import of her words sink in. "If necessary and if you get too cocky around here, I'll have you ringed with a padlock and I'll hold the key. I don't want to do it if it isn't necessary because the holes spoil any man's appearance. But I'll do it if you don't behave yourself."

"Yes, madame." Drum reached anxiously for his pants feeling sure that if he were once covered, he could divert

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Alix's talk about his being ringed. It made him nervous. As a blacksmith he had performed that humiliating function for many household slaves and he had no desire to go through it himself. He hastened to button the pants and hide the object of her threats.

"However"—^Alix sank back in her pillows completely reversing her attitude and becoming friendly—"I'm in need of a new girl in the kitchen, so I'll buy one and you can have her for your own and perhaps she'll keep you satisfied. Maspero's expecting a new lot of slaves. I'll even take you along with me and let you help in picking one. She can sleep in the gargonniere with you."

"Thank you, madame."

Drum unfolded the shirt, shook it out and started to pull it over his head, but Alix stopped him.

"One minute. Drum, before you put your shirt on. Go over there to my secretaire. Here is the key." She slipped a gold chain over her head and handed it to him. "Now unlock that little top drawer. Inside you'll find something wrapped in white paper. Yes?"

Drum opened the drawer and found the object.

He carried it to the bed and placed it in Alix' hand.

She unwrapped the tissue and took out a small flat box of silver, about the size of the jeweled pomanders that women tucked inside their gloves. A long silver chain was attached to two comers. For a long moment, she held it in her hand, then pried open the cover of the box with her fingernail and looked at the wad of soiled cloth inside. As if it were a habit of long standing, she lifted it to her nose and sniffed. She shook her head sadly and closed the cover of the box.

"Kneel down, Drum." She beckoned him closer to the bed.

It seemed to him that her voice, usually so firmly decisive,, quavered a bit as she slipped the chain over his head.

"That belonged to your father. He was my slave too. Hei brought it from Africa and he believed that as long as he: wore it, it would give him strength and his spirit would never' depart from him. It was true. While he wore it he was ai veritable stallion and his spirit never departed from himi until the day he lost it. Now it is yours. Wear it always."

He felt her hand clutch at his own.

He simunoned up courage to ask a question that had long! troubled him.

"Who was my father, madame? Maman never told me."

"She was forbidden. It is a subject we never discuss."

"But if he came from Africa, he was not white, madame?"

"No, he was not white—^he was a full blooded Negro. He was a Royal Hausa and quite the handsomest Negro I have ever seen. He once told me that his father was a king in Africa."

"Then I am not reaUy a mulatto? You always called me that." Drum's anxiety was apparent.

"The term is used loosely. But you know you could not be a mulatto. A mulatto is half white and half black," she paused a moment, "a white father and a black mother. Rachel is a mulatto. If your father had been white, you would be a quadroon."

"Then I am only a griffe, only one-quarter white?" Drum had suddenly descended in his own social scale. The exact percentage of white blood was so important and a griffe, being the chiM of a full-black and a half-black, was not as high as a mulatto.

"Yes, you are a griffe," Alix agreed, "but you could pass for a mulatto or even a quadroon as you are so bright-skinned—brighter than most mulattos."

Then Alix did a very strange thing. She leaned over and kissed Drum on the forehead.

He was shocked. A white woman had kissed him, not in the heat of passion as he had heard in some fantastic, half-believed stories about white women kissing their slaves. This was a gentle kiss, almost a gesture of love. He stood up, fingering the silver charm which felt cold against his chest. He shivered with some strange fear, wishing that he was out of this room, out of this house and back in the comfortable security of Dominique's forge.

Alix already regretted her impulsive act. What an idiot she had been to yield to her emotions! "Rachel is so close to me that at times I feel hke your own mother. Now, out with youl Go to Onesime and tell him to teach you to mix drinks. If you dare to sample one, I'll have you skiimed alive. Hop to it and never forget, you're nothing but a slave."

She waited until he had closed the door, holding back her tears with diiBcuIty.

' "Tamboura!" She started to cry softly and privately so that no one would hear her. "Oh, Tamboural"

chapter iii

After Onesime had gone, Drum settled down easily into the routine at the Academy of Music, finding the work much to his liking and enjoying the novelty of sleeping through the morning, doing chores aroimd the house in the afternoon and tending bar imtil dawn. In his starched white coat, his hair s hinin g with pomade and his eyes sparkling, he deftly manipulated the bottles and glasses, using much more showmanship in his performance than the unimaginative Onesime had ever done. It added a certain fillip to the drinks, and seemed to enhance their flavor and popularity among the patrons of Alix' establishment. That he accomplished all this without tasting any of the Uquor himself was quite phenomenal. But Alix was determined she would have no drunken sot around her place. He had to judge the effect of his skill by the expressions on the faces of the drinkers. Having learned the basic recipes from Onesime, he added Uttle touches of his own, watching carefully to see how they were accepted.