Outlaw. Part 9

Two women sat near him, outwardly unimpressed but unable to hide the curiosity in their eyes. Another knelt in front of the prince with her back to me. I saw the prince's eyes watching me and I felt chilled by his stare. The quiet in the room stretched out. He'd commanded something but no one was moving.

"You must come, miss."

My heart jumped at the sound of Lela's voice as she turned her head. She was the one kneeling.

I hurried forward, pulled by the comforting sound of her voice. All the men and women here were well appointed with golden bands and all of the women wore dyed skirts. The feathers they used were more colorful and the bones on their necklaces whiter than what the villagers wore. But Lela, the young girl from Indonesia, was dressed simply in a gra.s.s skirt without any appointments. I could only guess it spoke of her status. As she'd said, she too was wam.

Reaching her side, I didn't know what to do, so I knelt.

Wilam mumbled something, which was returned by soft chuckling from the men behind me. I kept my gaze directed at the woven floor mats.

"You must stand before this prince," Lela said quietly.

"Stand?"

"Yes, miss."

I pushed myself up in front of the platform, which I now saw was made of planks covered in the hides of small foxes. Wilam sat on the large stump, which was topped by the same hides.

He spoke again and Lela quickly stood.

"You must look at this lord," she whispered, looking up.

I lifted my eyes. He was darker than I remembered. Perhaps his color was accentuated by the bright bands on his biceps, forearms, and thighs. The men in the village below were all fit and healthy enough, but the warriors here, led by their prince, looked supremely healthy. But if Wilam was royalty among these savages, he likely had better food.

He leaned forward and rested an elbow on his right knee, studying me with that look of mild amus.e.m.e.nt. Then he shifted his eyes off of me and lowered them to Lela, who stood still under his long, firm gaze. Long enough to make me wonder whether she was here only to translate.

He demanded something of her. She answered.

Another question. Another answer.

They went back and forth for several minutes, he demanding answers, she humbly offering them, until my curiosity could bear it no longer. My fate was at stake, and I was lost in the dark.

"What?" I asked during a pause.

Lela kept her eyes on the prince. But then he nodded and she looked up at me.

"This prince say I must now die with you."

I was aghast. "Why would you have to die?"

"He say it was I who set you free, miss."

"Was it?"

"It is good to take another slave if they escape. This too will give this prince power."

"But did you free me?"

She didn't respond, and I knew she had.

"And what about the man? Michael."

"This Impirum no want that man. He not good for work or for fight."

So Lela had told the warriors from the Impirum that I had broken free and they'd retrieved me, which was evidently allowed under the tribal code.

"Why would Impirum men want me?" I asked.

Her eyes shifted. "To make this babies, miss."

The prince cut in, and they spoke for another minute before Lela turned back to me.

"This prince say I make you free and Kirutu will want blood. But I say you escape and I tell to his fighting man to get you. I say he now has new wam with power to make this babies, and this people will see Kirutu not as strong as this prince."

About the making babies I wasn't sure in the least, but she seemed to have talked some sense into the man and for that I was relieved.

"So then it's good," I said.

"No, miss. He not believe me. This prince say I lie and now I too must die."

Contemptuous. That's what my father sometimes called me as I was growing up. I knew even as heat burned my face that I wasn't in a position to a.s.sert myself, but good sense did not redirect me as I turned to the prince.

"It's not her fault," I snapped.

His brow arched. I at least had the satisfaction of gaining his full attention. And I wasn't done.

"She's just trying to save me and give you a good thing. Because of her you look strong, you should be thanking her."

"Koneh."

But I wasn't ready to koneh, which I a.s.sumed meant "shut up."

"You want babies? I can give you babies."

Lela translated without waiting to be told.

The prince studied me for a few seconds, then began to chuckle. Lela smiled and returned a tentative laugh as I watched. Seeing Wilam so close, I saw that it was muscle, not fat, that covered the sharp edges of his bones. Kirutu was tall and as wiry as a vine tree, but Wilam was as tall and perhaps the stronger man.

He said something and Lela's smile faded.

"What did he say?"

"He say that I am very clever and you are wild ca.s.sowary."

"Is that good?"

"Yes, miss. But it does not change his mind. He say because I have tricked him, and you have tried to tempt him, he will give us to Kirutu when this man come."

"Then he is an idiot," I said.

She repeated the word slowly, with an odd p.r.o.nunciation. "Idi-out?"

"He's a fool."

Her round eyes questioned me. "I will not say this. I tell him what this Kirutu cannot hold, Wilam can master. This people will see he is very strong chief."

"And?"

"He say he cannot master ca.s.sowary who will peck out his eyes when he is sleeping."

"So he will just turn us over?"

"I think he is afraid of you, miss," she whispered.

I wanted to ask if Wilam knew of Michael's condition, but the situation didn't warrant the question.

The prince demanded something of her and she answered quickly.

Wilam stood up and spat to one side. Amus.e.m.e.nt was gone from his face. He issued a verdict that sounded ugly, spat once more, then strode from the house.

"What did he say?"

Lela stared up at me and for the first time I saw real fear in her eyes. "I tell him you must be so happy to make many nice babies with him. But he will not make this babies with you. Now this Kirutu will come with many fighting man and he will take us."

Chapter Ten.

Lela and I spent the rest of the day bound on opposite sides of the hut they'd first held me in, but it wasn't until darkness approached and she began to cry that I fully appreciated what she had attempted to do for me.

I tried to talk to her, but she informed me that she'd been ordered not to speak.

A single lean guard with several p.r.o.nounced scars on his chest and a single rattan band around his waist milled about the hut watching me with curious eyes as he carved the shaft of a spear. I was beginning to see the divisions among the savages' cla.s.ses, primarily in the sophistication of their dress. There also seemed to be distinctions in the ways they groomed themselves. Wilam, for example, took meticulous care of himself, while my guard, who was plain, had grimy fingernails and unruly facial hair. Nevertheless he looked as healthy as a tiger.

At one point the guard withdrew a bundle of palm leaves from a platform above the smoldering fire and peeled back the layers to reveal a white paste that reminded me of plaster of paris. He apportioned the paste onto two leaves and set them on the coals. When the food was baked, he set one portion before Lela and untied her hands so that she could eat, before approaching me with the second portion. Rather than untying me, he squatted before me and brought the food to my mouth with a dirty hand.

They'd fed me their disgusting paste on the river, but when it was cooked its smell wasn't terribly different from that of toasted flat bread. Still, I was unsure.

The guard grinned wide, showing stained teeth, two of which were broken. He cackled and looked back at Lela. She glanced between the guard and me, then nodded at the food.

"This is sago, miss. You must eat this food."

The man pushed the baked sago close to my mouth and muttered something that brought forth another cackle. I let him push it between my teeth and took a tentative bite. It tasted like half-baked bread.

The guard fed me the rest with some pleasure, as if he were feeding a new baby pet. Then he retrieved his own food from the platform-several strips of meat, which he enjoyed eating while watching me, wearing that same jagged smile. I was struck by his relatively charitable disposition.

When I told Lela I had to use the bathroom she informed the guard, who snapped at her, perhaps for speaking, because he surely couldn't blame me for needing to do what even animals must do. I wondered if he expected me to urinate on the reed floor, but after staring at me for a while he motioned for me to stand. He then led me through the doorway.

The moment I stepped into the bright sunlight, a cry went up and no fewer than twenty children of all ages descended on the hut, whooping and hollering with glee. The guard tried to shoo them away with flailing arms and angry shouts, but the children's enthusiasm wasn't tempered until several other adults joined in the guard's rebuke.

He led me down the boardwalk, then out into the forest, as the swelling crowd of children followed curiously at a distance of no more than fifteen paces. The thought that I would have no privacy superseded the horror of my impending fate. Rather than send them away, the guard led them with square shoulders, as if enjoying his position as the caretaker of such a popular oddity.

I was struck by the sight of one young girl who carried a piglet. The baby pig had dried mud on its snout and grunted, but otherwise seemed content to rest in her arms like a pet. I had been hauled through the jungle like a condemned pig, surely worth less to my captors than this animal. And yet even a pig could be treasured, could it not?

When we reached a dense patch of underbrush, the guard motioned to the bushes and said something that I took to mean, "There you go, do your business there."

I looked back at the flock of naked children watching my every move with wide eyes.

"You expect me to go in there? With all of them watching?"

He turned on the children and began to yell at them, then scooped up small sticks and hurled them in their direction. The children dodged the missiles and retreated a few yards.

Evidently satisfied, the guard grinned and motioned for me to go on. But I couldn't seem to make my legs move. Not only was the audience completely unacceptable to me, the thought of wading into the brush where spiders and snakes had surely gathered proved too much for me. I lost the urge to relieve myself.

After a bit of an argument during which I tried to express my desire to be returned to the hut, my guard reluctantly led me back, this time without issuing any order for the children to stay back. They hovered like a swarm of buzzing bees.

Within half an hour my bladder was painfully complaining. It's interesting how att.i.tudes change when one is confronted with stark choices. Tortured as I was by my body, I began to accept the fact that nakedness was not an issue in the jungle.

Once again I told Lela that I had to urinate.

She looked confused. "You did not do this, miss?"

The guard, who had settled back into whittling, tried to shut her up but she told him anyway. Hearing this he stood and spit to one side, then let loose with a tirade that must have clearly expressed his displeasure at having to take me out yet again.

Nevertheless he did take me out. Once again the children cried out with excitement and swarmed us. Once again he chased them back to a safe distance. Once again we all marched out to the bush, but this time, when we arrived at the selected spot, my guard picked up a long stick and ran at the children, beating the trees in a ruckus, yelling his threats in no uncertain terms. The children fled.

I pulled my pants down and quickly relieved myself while they were fully engaged, not bothering to climb deeper into the underbrush where the snakes waited.

When the guard returned I was already pulling my pants up. He took one look at the ground, then up at me, and muttered what could have been a scolding for not following his instructions. I wondered if I had somehow desecrated a part of the forest floor that was not made for soiling.

We marched back to the hut, I, my guard, and the children, who had returned in full force and were chattering with even more excitement.

Two warriors with set jaws and wearing golden bands came for Lela and me near dark. Our heads were bagged, and we were pulled to our feet and wordlessly guided out of the hut.

They walked us along the boardwalks, then out onto a gra.s.sy field and up a slope. The numbness that had settled over me was replaced by a terrible sorrow. Images of Stephen cooing in my arms as he groped for my face flooded my eyes with tears.

I was being marched to my execution, that much was painfully certain, and my basic need to survive raged through me. Where this instinct had failed to p.r.i.c.k my deadened nerves for most of the day, it now raked them with a vengeance.

I and the girl breathing beside me were stopped on a patch of barren earth. The bag over my head was pulled off and I found myself staring at the side of a hill. If there was gra.s.s on the hill, I could not see it, because a sea of dark bodies covered it.

We stood under a tree that stretched out its ancient limbs like a mother eagle sheltering her young. Beyond the tree stood two slopes. The hill on our left was filled with several thousand natives seated behind three or four hundred squatting warriors, each armed with spears, shields, or tall bows.