Drum (44 page)

"Maman." His own tears started. He felt a hand lightly on his head, and looking up his eyes met Alix'.

"Mother?" The word was a question.

"Yes, Drum," Alix spoke slowly. "You may call me 'mother' but only this once. Never again. The world must not know for your sake as much as mine. Rachel gave you all the love and affection you ever had, yet do not think, Drum, there have not been times when I longed to hold you in my arms. Do not think when I have seen you fighting I have not felt proud of you. I have looked at you and I saw all the glory of your father in you. And let me tell you this: black or white, he was the only man I ever loved. But there was nothing I could do to save him. I have not given you the love a mother gives her son. I could not. I had to harden my heart against you. And now, you have called me 'mother' and I shall call you 'son'. And I shall kiss you as a mother kisses her son." She leaned down and brushed her lips on his forehead.

"Voilcll For a brief moment, we have been mother and son. We shall never mention it again. New Orleans has never known and must never know that I gave birth to a Negro's child. In repayment for my having given you life, you must help me keep the secret. If it were discovered, we would both be hounded out of the city. I would be thought too low even to keep a whorehouse and you would be persecuted as my nigger bastard. Shall we keep silent?"

Drum nodded grimly. "And I am still your slave, even if you are my mother."

She nodded in agreement.

He stood up, and his fingers rested lightly on Rachel's cheek.

"I have just learned something, maman," he said softly and his pride gave a new ring to his voice. He turned and called Calinda and Blaise to the bed. They came over and stood beside him.

"Maman spoke to me before she died. She told me that my father was a white man, not a Negro. Do you understand what that means? I am not a griffe, nor am I a mulatto. My father was white and maman was half white. That makes me a quadroon," He looked to Alix for confirmation.

"Yes, Drum is right." Alix clutched his hand and her fingers closed around his in appreciation. He would keep her secret and if he wanted her to lie a little she would. The lie would cost her nothing and it would buy his silence for-

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ever. "Drum's father was white. Rachel wanted it kept ai secret because she hated white men." Alix decided to embroider her lie. "And Drum's father,"—she paused for the effect her words would make—"was a grandee of Spain "

His chest sweUed and he gathered Calinda to him but over her shoulder he saw the naked form of Yvette, still standing by the stove. Her breasts were round and fuU and he wanted to touch them. No woman would refuse him now Even with his broken nose and his torn ear. He knew that he was a mulatto and aU the rest of the world would think him a quadroon. The knowledge of his new social status had quite dispelled his grief. Again his eyes sought the round dark globes. Some day soon he would touch them Some day soon!

chapter xiv

The rains ceased, the sun shone and dried the stagnant pools and Bronze John reluctantly terminated his visit to the stricken city. True, he did not depart at once, but each week the number of deaths lessened and the city slowly returned to normal. Those who had fled started to come back, and with the advent of autumn, except for the plethora of mourning veils and crepe armbands, life in New Orleans began to glide along as gracefully as ever. Although there were fewer balls and a larger number of the boxes at the opera were covered with latticework so that their black-clad occupants could not be seen by the audience, business picked up at the Academy of Music. Widowers who had been summarily deprived of their conjugal rights found temporary forgetfulness in the Academy, where every attempt was made to assuage their sorrow with the new white girls Alix had managed to lure to New Orleans from as far away as Richmond by offers of better pay and steady employment. Maspero had found two new octoroon girls for her whom she immediately purchased, along with two small slaveys to fill the places of Marie and Yvette, who had died five days after Marie.

Drum's short grief at Rachel's passing was quite swallowed up in the awareness of his new position on the ladder of color. He knew he could expect neither love nor affection from Alix, not that he particularly wanted or needed it. The gulf between them was far too great—there was no bridging the immensity between mistress and slave. His father had evidently tried to do it and been flogged to death for the attempt. To hell with her! She had served her purpose.

Despite his knowledge. Drum's position at the Academy of Music remained the same as before. There was little change in the running of the household. Calinda grudgingly assumed Rachel's duties although without the dead woman's devotion or experience. The management of much of the household fell on her unwilling shoulders. She was by nature

a slack housekeeper, indifferent to dirt and disorder, but j under Alix' constant nagging and threats, she eventually iii achieved some efficiency. Calinda delighted in the fact that i she had two new girls to slave for her, and with the desire ii of a bondwoman to wreak her vengeance on someone more o: unfortunate than herself she made their life a hell on earth i for them. Her favorite method of discipline was to pinch k them, and this she did so viciously that their scrawny bodies i were a mass of black and blue marks. Blaise resvuned his I duties as bartender. Titine, who was losing the soft fresh-1 ness of youth, was demoted to Alix' personal maid, which; nevertheless gave her an opportunity to lord it over Calinda.!

Dominique You had returned to New Orleans and was again seeking matches for Drum but finding it more and; more difficult to secure them. Drum had been relieved of all ■ menial work in the house that he might continue to keep i himself in trim, and so Blaise had more work than he could do, especially as Drum insisted that they continue to work out together daily. It never occurred to Drum to help him. After all, Blaise was his slave; he had won him. The only duty he was willing to assume occasionally was to do the marketing, because it gave him a chance to mingle with the market crowds and ogle the many women who were there.

Women, all women in fact, were beginning to interest-Drum more than ever before. His feelings toward Calinda had cooled since the birth of Drumson and more imme-i diately since she had assumed Rachel's duties. Unconsciously,! too, he was jealous of her devotion to the child. Between being a mother and a housekeeper, she had little time for Drum and when she crawled in beside him in the early hours of the morning, her only desire was to sleep. When; her movements woke him and he demanded that she accom^ modate him, she often did so vmwillingly and even more often refused him. The first fire of their passion had burned out—both were aware of it, yet it angered Drum that she did not respond as before.

The big bed which had been removed to the kitchen during Rachel's dying moments still remained there. Alix was superstitious and she would not consider a bed that had witnessed a death as being appropriate for joy. Drum and Calinda continued to share it, at least for the present, although it was mutually conceded that when he started to fight again in earnest, she would move into the little closet off the kitchen and Blaise would share Drum's bed.

At times, Drum even looked forward to exchanging Calin-da as a bedfellow for Blaise. At least, Blaise did not tempt him as Calinda did. On the few occasions when he had been able to arouse her to a semblance of her former ardor for him, it almost invariably happened that Drumson began to cry. Regardless of Drum's passion, Calinda would be up and out of bed, comforting the child, while he scalded her with invectives. Such moments led to violent quarrels between them. On the last occasion when Drumson's whimpering had taken Calinda away at a most crucial moment, Drum refused to allow her to return. To punish her, he forbade her his bed for two weeks.

Not that he didn't still care for her. He supposed he really cared more for her than anyone else. Sure ... he loved her. But, he had to teach her a lesson. She had to know that he came first. Mon Dieul Why shouldn't he? He'd won her by fighting just as he had won Blaise. She belonged to him and she ought to put him before Drumson. His vanity as a male animal could not possibly relinquish her to another male animal even though his competitor was an infant and his own child. Therefore, she must be brought to heel and must be made to know that he was her master. Damne! Give her time and she'd get such an itch for him she'd come crawling back to him on her hands and knees. Let her crawl! It would do her good.

But Calinda had a mind of her own and having been kicked out of Drum's bed she was determined to have him seek her rather than to seek him. If any crawling was to be done, he'd be the one to do it. Conversation between them ceased. When it became necessary for one to address the other, it was done through a third, person—Blaise or even little Drumson.

"Blaise, tell that lazy Drum I needs a bucket of water."

"Blaise, tell that good for nothing Calinda that if she wants a bucket of water, she can damn well get it for herself."

Drum managed to get through the first week without Calinda fairly well by tiring himself with such unremitting and continuous exercise that he was asleep before he reached his bed. However, Saturday night came and he retired early as was his custom; he felt certain that she would relent and sleep beside him. He forced himself to keep awake until Calinda and Blaise returned, sometime during the early morning hours after the last guest had gone. When they

came in he pretended to be asleep while he waited forh Calinda to slip into bed beside him. He had quite forgiven [j her and his first words would be ones of endearment. He'd I call her by his old name for her— poupee, little doll.: That would put her in a good mood.

But Calinda had no intention of coming to him. Methodically she made up her own bed on the floor, cooed over the sleeping Drumson and then went into Blaise's cubbyhole where she stayed several minutes. Drum was unable to see inside the door but he heard the hum of voices ■ and Calinda's giggles. Had there been no voices, he would have been suspicious but soon she came out, took off her single garment and stretched out on the pallet.

"Bonne nuit, Blaise," she called softly

"Bonne nuit, Calinda," he answered her.

She blew out the candle.

Drum writhed on the bed. His first reaction was to go to her and either drag her into bed with him or force her on the floor. His need was great but his pride was even greater. She'd come to him. She'd come to him or else she'd sleep alone the rest of her life. Damn her! Damn them both! She could play up to Blaise. She could go in his room and talk and giggle with him. How did he know what they were doing in there? Go to her? Like hell he would. He lay on his back, staring into the dim whiteness of the mosquito baire. There were other women! He'd find them! Mon Dieu, he could find plenty. There was Veronique and her sister Jeanneton. He wove a phantasy around them, far more brilliantly painted then any actuality, and in so doing he relieved himself and slept.

Drum did not relent. Neither did Calinda, who seemed to take, a perverse pleasure now in playing up to Blaise, especially in front of Drum, Obviously she was doing this to make him jealous and, forewarned by this knowledge, he ignored as much as possible her arch glances, her little attentions and her coy smiles, all of which Blaise accepted willingly but with a certain amovmt of guilt, keeping an eye on Drum to see what his reaction might be. To prove that he didn't care and that he was quite aware of Calinda's tricks. Drum went out of his way to leave them together. When the time came for the next Saturday morning's marketing, he informed Calinda—through Blaise, of course—that she was to remain at home and that he would attend to it alone. To his surprise, she showed no disappointment and

her ready acceptance of the fact caused Drum to fear that he might have overplayed his hand.

But once in the market, after poking the breasts of chickens with an exploratory finger, seeking out the freshest vegetables and testing the coffee with experimental sips, he did not regret that he had planned this venture alone. Over the coffee cup, with its enticing aroma, he saw a longed-for sight that had been occupying his thoughts for many weeks. It was Veronique, and the very sight of her light-skinned loveliness entirely dispelled his annoyance with Ca-linda. The suppressed longing of weeks caused him to tremble and his coffee cup clattered in the thick saucer as he put it down on the table. Like a man in a dream, fearful lest he wake up and dispel such a vision, he dashed after Veronique, catching up to her behind a pUe of empty barrels. Her back was to him and he laid a hand gently on her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of her dress. She turned around, startled, and for a brief second, owing to his changed appearance, she did not recognize him, but when she spoke Drum was certain that she was quite as glad to see him as he was to see her.

For a long moment they looked at each other and Drum tried to read in her eyes the effect his broken nose might have on her, but he could see only one thing—her eyes burned with the same bright desire as his own. If she had noticed the misshapen nose or the missing ear lobe, it had been only momentarily. He looked around quickly to make sure they were unobserved. Without the preliminary of a word, he pulled her to him and she hung heavy in his arms.

"You are not dead," she whispered. "I was so worried. Seeing you again has made me happy."

"I have dreamed about you." Drum kissed her.

"Let me go, mon cher." She disengaged herself, albeit unwillingly, from his arms. "I have only a moment. Madame Mercier is waiting for me. Quickly, Drum, and let's not waste words. Can you see me again?"

"Yes, when?" He was already excited at the prospect.

"Saturday, a week from tonight. At eleven o'clock. Madame plans to spend the night with Madame Hernandez at Veinte Robles Plantation to condole with her on the death of her son. My father drives her. Besides the other servants who will all be in bed, we shall be alone. I'll be waiting at the back door to let you in. You'll bring Blaise for Jeanne-ton?"