by Daniel Caet
The result was two completely separate and isolated societies. On the plantations, the English lords lived their fantasy of orderly and very British society, while a few miles south, in Port Royal, the pirates lived their lives between the legs of the prostitutes in their innumerable taverns. It goes without saying that I preferred to spend my time among the latter, which caused numerous gossip that I enjoyed feeding. In a short time I had added to my list of exotic attributes that I spent the day fornicating with pirates and drinking alcohol in supposedly endless orgies. A story that was just something different from reality.
But there was a third element in this society, one that bothered everyone equally and to which no one gave any importance. Slaves and Indians did not exist for any of the other two parts of that society and yet they were the engine that maintained everything. The English had already had to live numerous revolts of slaves who had fled to the mountains and formed small guerrillas and, although it was obvious they had nothing to do against the status quo of the island, they were capable of attacking plantations, which resulted in its owners becoming a real pain for the government with its constant claims of greater security. But all those small-scale attempts to win their freedom violently were about to become much greater.
In those confusing and chaotic waters I used to manage myself as a skilful captain, being able to get what I was interested in from who interested me while satisfying the needs of all parties. But what for me was an almost amusing situation, was a nightmare for Asur, or Alfonse I should say. My son felt as trapped in Jamaica as he had been before in Cuba and my attempts to integrate him into English society were in vain. Maybe I was distracted, maybe I relaxed too much or maybe I wanted to believe that in that lost corner of the world we were safe, but the reality is that I didn't see the immense cloud of darkness looming over us.
It was New Year’s eve 1691 and a carriage took me to the Faherty residence, the house of one of the wealthiest marriages on the island, located in their plantation that was only a few minutes from ours. Elizabeth Faherty was a middle-aged woman, somewhat meaty and with a face that, if not attractive, could not be described as unpleasant. Their marriage, arranged of course, was as boring as it could be when your husband is a man ten years older than you and who has lost all interest for anything other than money. Andrew Faherty had become a widower a few years ago and he had sent immediate notice to his brother in London to begin the process of finding a new suitable wife. The chosen one, probably due to lack of other options, was the youngest daughter of a wine merchant, not very graceful and without an important dowry that constituted an added attraction, which was forced to say yes to an offer of marriage that could be the only one she would receive and that ended up taking her to live on the other side of the world. In that terrible scenario for her, Lilly, as she liked to be called, had taken refuge in the woman who represented everything she could never be, and I had taken her under my wing, frequently organising meetings with strong Port Royal men that could give her everything her husband denied her and even a little more. Consequently, Lilly was the closest thing to a friend I could have among the island's high society.
I got out of the carriage sweating due to the weight of the ridiculous party clothes I was wearing and that were absolutely useless in the tropical temperatures of the island. But the occasion ruled. The majority of the English population of the colony was frustrated at not being able to be part of the great social revolution that was supposedly happening in London since the restoration of the monarchy and the arrival at the throne of Charles II. Apparently, Cromwell's austerity had disappeared without a trace and the court was recreating in parties of incomparable splendour, with elaborate clothing and jewelry everywhere. Something that had not changed when he was succeeded by his brother, James II. Or that was something that the few missives that came from the old mother country made them believe. Consequently, the settlers of certain monetary power were determined to try to replicate what in their minds was drawn as an example of pleasure and luxury, and the festivities were repeated in the different manors and houses of the members of the island's government, each trying to overcome the brightness and shine of the previous one.
“Helene, my dear!” Lilly met me at the door of the great hall of her house.
“You are beautiful as ever, Lilly, you have a wonderful pink hue on your skin!”
“Something I owe only to you, my dear friend, and to the magnificent sword of that pirate friend of yours,” she whispered in my ear as she grabbed me by the arm to take me into the great ball room.
“I already told you he was very skilled with ... the sword.”
“You saved my life, my dear!” she said standing in the center of the room. “Friends, the party is saved, our dear Spaniard has arrived!” Her words were received by a chorus of applause as if that were a circus and I was its main number. “Come with me, I have many people to introduce you to, last night a ship from the real African company loaded with new slaves arrived and Andrew has invited the captains and admirals to our party. Some are truly handsome!”
The real African company was the organisation that monopolised all slave marketing between Africa and the English colonies in America. It had been founded by the current King James when he was Duke of York and the profits it brought to the crown were countless. Its employees were always desirable contacts in the colonies that depended entirely on that company and their presence at the party was an indication of power and social status. Lilly led me through the crowd trying to chat with me, especially the gentlemen, and took me directly to a small group formed by her husband and three other men.
“Gentlemen, can I interrupt you to introduce you to the jewel of the Jamaican crown? Mrs. Helene de Ballard, Lady Stanley,” she said, making all the men turn to look at us. I could have sworn that at that moment I had heard a sound of clock pieces when fitting, a perfect alignment of planets. There, in front of me, dressed completely in black as if he wanted to highlight the intense green colour of his eyes that looked at me with a fury and a fire like I had not seen in anyone for many years, was Helel.
“Mr. Douglas, this is my friend Lady Stanley. Hélene, Mr. Alexander Douglas, admiral of the real African company.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stanley,” Helel said in an ice-cold tone as he kissed my hand.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Douglas. Are you Scottish?”
“Actually my family is very big, we can be found almost anywhere.” Suddenly his voice echoed in my mind. «You haven't been easy to find Liliath.»
«I should have made it a little harder. What do you want?»
«You know perfectly well what I want and I will not leave until you give it to me.»
«I will not argue with you here, accompany me to the garden.»
“Helene! Helene, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Lilly's voice took me out of my conversation with Helel.
“What? Yes, yes, it is this damn heat that is killing me, I think I need some fresh air.”
“I will accompany the lady, if she allows me,” Helel said immediately, understanding my game.
“Of course, thank you very much!” I said extending my hand to Helel who took it gently and guided me to the far side of the garden while all the guests watched and whispered. When he realised that the palm trees of the garden were hiding us and that no one could see us, his delicate manners changed radically and he grabbed me tightly by the arm making my face and his face encounter, and I could feel his breath agitated by anger.
“Where is the sword, Liliath? And, stop playing games.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about, dear husband,” I replied, staring into his eyes and with a cynical smile.
“Enough!” he answered raising his voice and squeezing my arm even more, causing me a pain that I managed to hide. “Sadith showed me what happened in Rome, I have seen with my own eyes how you betrayed me and I will not fall into that error anymore. So, talk or I swear I'll tear your head off!”
“That is no way to treat a woman, Helel, especially one like me,” I replied as I placed my hand on his chest and the energy I projected threw him against the trunk of one of the palm trees behind us, causing the whole palm tree to shake from the blow. My hands tore the corset that pressed my body freeing me from that prison of silk and whale bone, letting me breathe air into my lungs. “Ah, this is better! Who must have been the retrograde creature who invented such a tool of torture?” I couldn't follow the sentence because intense pain shook my body. In front of me, Helel was sitting on the floor due to my blow, but his hand clenched in a fist controlled the energy that he projected on my body causing all my muscles to contract with the pain. As I could I draw a symbol in the ground sand, a spell ancient like the time I knew would isolate me even if it was momentarily from his power. Those strokes began to shine as soon as I finished them and I immediately stopped feeling his strength.
“Do you really think that these village puppeteer tricks will keep you out of my reach? I'm afraid you don't know anything.”
“I have no doubt that your power is now much greater, the dark energy of hell must have had an effect on you, but these puppeteer tricks as you call them give me enough time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time for you not to notice that different symbols have appeared in the sand around you that I suspect you know well, angelic anchors. The most powerful containment magic that exists and the one that you have already been exposed to in the cave where I locked you for centuries, dear husband.”
His face became cold as marble for a moment, but a moment later his mouth drew a wicked smile that I could not interpret. Without saying anything, Helel stepped forward and crossed the circle of invisible containment that the anchors defined.
“But, how is it possible?” I said trying to remain calm, although inside I felt completely confused.
“For your anchors to work, dear wife, there should be some angel left in me. I killed that part of me a long time ago.” This time it was I who was thrown against one of the trees in the garden when Helel waved his hand as if slapping the air. My body ran out of breath for a second due to the blow and it took me a moment to find the strength to get up while Helel, in front of me, looked at me angrily.
“Helene, is everything all right?” interrupted Lilly’s voice appearing around the corner of the garden. “We heard bumps and I was worried. What happened to your dress?”
“Yes, my dear, everything is fine,” I said, rising as I could from the floor. “I lost my breath because of this stupid corset, Mr. Douglas has helped me tearing it apart so I could breathe and I sat down a second to see if I could recover the air. I'm feeling better.” Helel approached me and helped me up as if nothing had happened.
“It's important to get rid of the things that oppress us, almost always one ends up seeing everything much clearer,” he released as he held out his hand to help me. “I'm sure Lady Stanley will be much better now.”
“Oh darling! I'm so sorry! Let’s go inside and we will sit near a window to give you some air, although today it does not move a leave I fear.”
“Thank you very much, Lilly!”
“Wouldn’t you accompany us, Mr. Douglas?” asked Lilly, seeing that Helel did not move.
“I'm afraid it's late, Mrs. Faherty, and I must return to my ship. Anyway, I am happy to see that Lady Stanley is better and that I leave her in your careful hands.”
“Oh, that's a pity! Will we see you again?”
“Of course, please tell your husband that I will see him tomorrow so we can have a chat. I intend to stay on the island for a while, so I have no doubt that we can continue our conversation, Lady Stanley.”
“It will be my pleasure, Mr. Douglas,” I lied.
«I wait for you tomorrow on eight rivers’ beach, north of the island. If you do not appear, I will go to your house to look for you and believe me that you do not want me to do so,» Helel's voice echoed in my head in a cruel and threatening tone. A tone that only reminded me that fate had just knocked on my door again and that, if I had thought I could escape his cold hand, I had only been a poor idiot.
The next morning I asked for my best horse to be saddled and dressed in men's riding clothes, as I liked it, I headed to eight rivers. I had at least a couple of hours of riding ahead so I left almost at the edge of dawn. When I arrived I realised that I didn't really know where I should go. Eight rivers was the name that the Spaniards had given to a small settlement north of the island, but since the conquest by the British it had been basically depopulated. I knew that in that area there was some kind of maroon colony, escaped slaves and rebels, but he also knew that wherever that settlement was, it would not be visible. Otherwise, the area was an extension of lowland that reached the seashore. I stopped my horse in a kind of high hill and concentrated closing my eyes to find Helel. In an instant I could feel his powerful, immense and dark energy. He was on the beach and I went there.
The image when I entered the beach with my horse was especially beautiful. The turquoise blue waters of the Caribbean sea bathed the intense white sand that reflected the rays of the scorching sun that fell on them. The beach was very long and the only thing that could be seen in the background was a group of two or three palm trees that offered the only refuge from the sun, so I took the horse there. I could still feel the presence of Helel's energy, but there was no trace of him. I dismounted and tied the horse to one of the palm trees. I took off my hat that hid my hair and for a moment I closed my eyes to hear the sound of the sea that filled everything.
“Since you've made me come here, the least you can do is appear,” I said as if speaking to myself. Immediately a vibration of the air announced the arrival of Helel who appeared before me dressed in brown cloth pants, leather boots and a white linen shirt open halfway to his chest. A very different clothing from the one he wore last night.
“I like being comfortable,” he said, reading my mind.
“I don't care how you decide to disguise yourself, Helel, you asked me to come here and here I am, say what you want.”
“I don't need to, you know what I want.”
“And you know I won't give it to you.”
“Then I will turn this island into a hell of blood and fire and your son will be the first to fall.”
“Don't you dare to threaten me, Helel, I'm not one of those followers of yours who try to control the world! Or did you think I didn't know?” I replied. “For years I have known about your dealings with the kingdoms of the old continent, too many ascents and falls of power, too many changes of course to be a coincidence. You and the archangels have been playing with the governments of the world for centuries, trying to control the last kingdom that neither of you have managed to possess yet, that of men. But it doesn't seem that neither you have done very well, right? You all thought that men would be easily governable, that their limited minds would lean them towards one of the two sides, disguised as good or evil, all seasoned with the opium of the archangel religion or the force of hatred and depravity in your case, but you both got it wrong. Neither of you have achieved absolute control over men because you forgot an essential part, what man loves above all, the most precious gift your father gave us, dear husband. Freedom.”
“Lovely speech, Liliath, but keep it for your lounge talks with your high society friends. I'm only interested in one thing, my sword. Give it to me and I will let you live so that you continue playing the upper class lady with your bastard, refuse and you will both feed this fucking earth with your bones.”
“Save the threats, they won't take you anywhere. I can't give you the sword because I simply don't have it.”
“I do not believe you!”
“I knew you wouldn’t.”
Without telling him anything else, I ran towards the sea. I could hear his screams behind me, but I didn't pay attention, I just prepared myself for what was going to happen. Just when my feet reached the edge of the water a kind of wall of blood red energy s
uddenly appeared hitting me full with a brutal force that threw me back making me fly over the sand until I fell a few steps from Helel. When I opened my eyes I found Helel, who was holding me, staring at me, perfectly understanding what had just happened, but not knowing how to explain it.
“Will you listen to me now?”
There, on that beach full of light, I told Helel of an immense darkness, almost as big as my own, one that had known how to play its cards to have me at its mercy. A darkness that had reached our lives a year earlier in the form of a girl of about sixteen, in an equally dark transport, a slave ship. We never knew her real name, only the one her people decided to give her when they learned to fear her, Mama Obeah. Everything about her was a mistery. No one knew what her true origin was. It was said that she belonged to the tribe of the Ashanti, from somewhere on the African golden coast, where English slave traders had snatched her after killing the rest of her family. Only one grandmother survived to accompany her on the trip, but too fragile to endure the crossing, she died a few days later. The girl had to see how her body was thrown overboard without merci. The pain of the loss and separation would not be comparable to the damage she had yet to suffer before arriving in Jamaica. Like other girls on the same ship, she would be raped until exhaustion, day after day, not by the captains and admirals, but by the seafaring mob who were allowed to vent with the slaves in order to calm their spirits and avoid mutinies. At that moment the monster that would be was born. Her people learned to respect her, not in the way a queen or a princess is respected, but in the way you fear a person who has a power incomprehensible to others, the power to summon the spirits, to get them to do what she wanted, to subjugate the will of men and women. The power of a sorceress, a power inherited from that grandmother who was no more than shark food, a power that she would take to its maximum expression. She could have gotten her freedom, she could have made her life in Jamaica much better, she could even have gotten back to her home, but she decided to stay, live as a slave, endure that punishment with patience with only one goal, revenge.