They both jerked in surprise to find that Arany had crossed a ford in the river to reach their side.
“Well, aren’t you coming?” she said. “My tribe will be most disappointed if you don’t join us for a meal.” She walked toward an opening in the fence.
Gerard shrugged and said, “I suppose we’ve come this far; let’s try our luck.”
They followed Arany through the outer stakes, and Oludara noticed Gerard raise his head to study the skulls as they passed underneath. Oludara kept his focus on the path before them.
Ponderous logs formed the inner palisade, with eye-level arrow slits at regular intervals. Once through the gate, he could finally see the village itself.
Five huge cabins, each over a hundred feet long, circled a central square. These longhouses were built from stakes, leaves, and dirt, with three-foot layers of palm leaves piled on as roofs.
As Oludara and Gerard entered the ring of longhouses, hundreds of curious natives emptied out to gawk at them. None wore clothing, though most sported some type of decoration. Black-painted designs, similar to Arany’s, appeared on many bodies. Piercings filled with polished stones adorned ears, cheeks, and the skin below the lips. Several natives wore necklaces made from seashells or stones. Elaborate arrays of feathers decorated heads and arms. Cotton sheets, tiny infants swaddled within, draped across the backs of many women. The women all wore their hair long, but the men wore it shaved on top and cut to one length around the sides, like the tonsures of the European friars. None showed any sign of body or facial hair.
The natives shouted at Oludara and Gerard, the women loudest of all. Children ran circles around them, taunting. Men nocked arrows in six-foot long bows and held them at the ready. Arany separated herself from the two companions.
Oludara held up his hands in a show of truce, and spoke calmly, “Please, we come in peace.”
Many natives pointed at Gerard’s harquebus, which he carried at his side.
“Gerard,” said Oludara, “put down your gun!”
Gerard placed the weapon on the ground and raised his hands.
The natives crowded closer. Some yelled at Arany in Tupi. She responded calmly to all questions, making motions to distance herself from the two of them, with the air of one who has nothing to do with the situation at hand. Neither Oludara nor Gerard understood a word of the language.
The men raised their bows and drew them, ready for an attack.
“Please, Arany,” said Oludara, “persuade them to speak with us.”
Arany paused and studied the two carefully. Then she turned and dashed off.
“Oh no,” said Gerard, “she’s abandoned us. We should flee.”
“Perhaps not,” said Oludara, “see where she goes.”
Arany ducked into a tiny hut at the edge of the village. Oludara hadn’t noticed it before: the massive longhouses dwarfed it. Within moments, Arany appeared again, pulling a bald, elderly native by the arm. He wore a feathered headdress which stretched down his back, and multiple collars rattled around his neck. As he approached, men and women parted for him.
The old man spoke; he talked with force but without raising his voice. Several of the men, those who wore the most feathers, shouted at him in what appeared to be an argument. He replied by holding up his chin and pointing to the center of the village.
At this, the natives lowered their bows, one by one, but most kept them half-drawn. The old man walked to the village center and sat on a log. Five other men, the most-decorated, followed.
“Arany,” asked Gerard, “what’s happening?”
“The man I brought is Yandir, our pajé,” she answered.
“What is a pajé?” asked Oludara.
“He can communicate with the spirits. Using their wisdom, he both heals and guides us.”
“So he is a type of priest?” asked Oludara.
“Priest?” scoffed Gerard. “More like a sorcerer.”
“Call him what you wish,” said Arany. “Yandir is not a chief, but he is old and well-respected, both of which carry much weight. The five chiefs have agreed to a council. You have gained some time, for however long it lasts.”
“Thank you,” said Oludara, bowing his head.
Arany frowned and walked away. Oludara admired her grace as she moved. She disappeared into one of the cabins.
The scent of tobacco smoke caught Oludara’s attention, and he looked to see the chiefs smoking from what appeared to be a long tube rolled from palm leaves. One by one the chiefs stood and spoke, while the others passed around the tube and smoked. When the chiefs’ discussion passed ten minutes, Gerard and Oludara sat down. Almost thirty natives watched over them, many with bows at the ready. After twenty minutes, one of the chiefs motioned toward Gerard and Oludara. Younger than the rest, not more than thirty years old, he wore a headdress made from yellow-and-red feathers, and a light blue stone shone under his lower lip.
“Come here, strangers,” he said in Portuguese.
The two of them approached the chiefs’ council.
The man who had called them over held up a hand in greeting. “You may call me Jakoo,” he stammered in sluggish Portuguese: not nearly as good as Arany’s, yet comprehensible. “Only Cabwassu and I speak the language of the Pero.” He pointed toward one of the other chiefs.
Oludara and Gerard turned to study Cabwassu. Blue and green feathers fanned out from his armbands, and pointed stones stuck from his earlobes, cheeks, and lower lip, so many as to make him appear almost inhuman. Most striking were the numerous scars that covered his muscular body, in particular the ones which laddered down each arm like stripes. He appeared to be the toughest and meanest of the group, and he scowled when they looked at him. They both turned away their gaze.
Jakoo continued, “The others want me to ask you questions, so we may decide your fate. Some think we should eat you.”
Cabwassu bared a malicious, toothy smile. Gerard removed his wide-brimmed hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“However,” continued Jakoo, “it has been many moons since we have tasted the flesh of our enemies, since before our days with the Jesuits. The younger chiefs, like me, no longer think it right.”
“That’s quite reasonable of you,” replied Gerard, straightening up and nodding briskly.
“For us, it is better to kill you, with no eating.”
“Oh,” said Gerard, his shoulders slumping back down.
“First, though,” said Jakoo, “we want to know why you come to our village.”
“To learn from you,” replied Oludara. “We travel the wild lands of Brazil, and your knowledge would help us greatly.”
Cabwassu spat on the ground near Oludara’s feet. Jakoo ignored the gesture and turned to translate for the other chiefs. Most of them shook their heads. Yandir, the pajé, said something to Jakoo.
“Yandir says,” said Jakoo, “we are Tupinambá. You are not Tupinambá. Why share our knowledge with you?”
“We can offer trade,” said Gerard. He pulled off his pack and rummaged through it. After a few seconds, he pulled out a knife and mirror and held them up.
Jakoo laughed, as did some of the others. Cabwassu spat again. Jakoo spoke to some nearby women, who went into the huts. A minute later they appeared again, arms full of objects. Jakoo motioned them toward Gerard and Oludara and they emptied their arms before the two. Mirrors, hoes, knives, machetes, and other items of European origin piled at their feet.
Oludara frowned. “We can work,” he offered.
Cabwassu stood and yelled at them, “We don’t need your help!”
“We battle monsters,” interrupted Gerard. “That is why we travel this land.”
Cabwassu laughed, but Jakoo turned and translated to the others.
Yandir looked them over thoughtfully, rubbing his bald head as he did. He said one word, “Kalobo.”
Cabwassu shouted at the old man in Tupi, and a couple of others joined in. Whatever his idea, they obviously didn’t like it.
/> Jakoo motioned away Oludara and Gerard. “Go sit down. We will tell you our decision soon.”
Shortly after they sat down, Arany appeared, carrying round objects in both hands. She knelt beside Gerard and Oludara and offered them the objects, which turned out to be cups made from hollowed-out gourds, warm to the touch. They were filled with a fishy-smelling paste.
“What is this?” asked Gerard.
“It is mingau,” said Arany, “much like your porridge. This type is made from cassava, with fish and peppers for flavor.”
Gerard scooped some paste with his fingertips and licked it. “Delicious!” he said. “Thank you, Arany.” He shoved his hand in for the next mouthful.
Oludara sat staring at his gourd.
“What’s wrong?” asked Gerard, spraying bits of food from his stuffed mouth.
Oludara held up the cup. “They use the calabash, just as we do in Africa; it reminds me of home. Funny how things can be so alike, here on the other side of the world.”
“Hmm,” replied Gerard, gulping down another handful of mingau. “Not just here, we use them in Europe as well.” Gerard became thoughtful. “Back home, the bowl and calabash are used as symbols by the Dutch rebels in their war against Spain.”
“Sorry,” said Oludara, shaking his head to clear it. “I should have said before: thank you, Arany. This food was unexpected and much appreciated.”
Arany turned down her eyes. “It is no less than you should expect,” she said. “Even our enemies are treated with respect, until the moment they are slain.” She grimaced as she said it. “I almost forgot,” she said, hopping up, “there is something else.”
She ran back to the hut and brought back a wooden tray filled with white bits. “This we call pipoca,” she said. “It is made by heating bits of corn, which releases the tiny spirits inside with a bang.”
“Popped corn,” said Gerard, grinning. “I’ve heard of it, but never seen it before.” He reached in the bowl and pulled out a handful.
When Arany offered the bowl to Oludara, he stared into her eyes. She held his gaze for but a moment before looking away.
After choking down several handfuls of popped corn, Gerard said, “Arany, that chief over there, Cabwassu...”
All three looked toward the chiefs, where Cabwassu shouted and made suggestively violent motions toward Gerard and Oludara.
“Yes?” she asked.
“What does he say of us?”
“He would see you killed quickly.”
“Hmm,” said Gerard, pulling on his goatee. “Does he hold much sway?”
“You saw those scars on his arms?” Arany asked.
“Yes.”
“Each scar represents one of his names.”
“So he has a lot of names?” asked Gerard. “What does that mean?”
“The men take a new name and a new scar every time they kill an enemy. He has many, many names.”
“Oh, I see,” said Gerard, mentally adding up the lines but losing count.
“Why do your people dislike the Portuguese?” asked Oludara.
“Why?” replied Arany. “Don’t you know? The Pero are sometimes friends, sometimes enemies. Sometimes saviors, sometimes slavers. Who knows what they think? The old governor allowed the banners to sack many tribes. Our tribe was spared because we were under the protection of the Jesuits. However, the smallpox arrived and claimed the lives of other tribes under their care. We fled before it found us as well. The Jesuits could protect the Tupinambá from the governor, but not the smallpox, so we returned to our old way of life.”
Arany paused before continuing. “Cabwassu hates all foreigners. He lost much of his family, as have we all. But while most of us were happy just to leave the Pero behind, he has sworn revenge.”
They were interrupted when Jakoo approached them.
“Return to the circle,” he said. “We have made a decision.”
Oludara looked Gerard in the eye. Gerard nodded and the two of them stood and walked to the chiefs’ council in silence. Arany followed close behind.
“Yandir suggests we give you a chance,” said Jakoo. “You must defeat Kalobo, a beast which has killed and eaten many Tupinambá. A group of hunters disappeared two days past, and we believe that Kalobo is to blame.
“Our bows are useless against the beast, our arrows bounce from its hide. If you find a way to defeat Kalobo, Yandir says you can be Tupinambá.”
All around Jakoo, men nodded in approval, understanding the words “Kalobo” and “Tupinambá”, at the least.
“Yandir is a powerful pajé,” said Jakoo. “The chiefs accept his suggestion. But if you will not or cannot defeat Kalobo, you will be dinner for it or for us. Do you accept?”
Without the need to confer, both nodded their heads in unison.
“We will send a guide to show the way,” said Jakoo, “one of our warriors.”
“If she is willing,” said Oludara, “we will take Arany as our guide.”
Cabwassu laughed at the suggestion. Gerard’s jaw dropped.
Jakoo looked at Arany. She caught Oludara’s eye and stared for a moment, then nodded her head.
“Good idea,” said Cabwassu. “We get rid of two problems at same time.”
Jakoo spoke to the chiefs and they dispersed, each one towards a different longhouse. Yandir returned to his hut. Only Jakoo and Cabwassu stayed behind.
“You should leave now,” said Jakoo.
Cabwassu looked at Oludara and said, “Don’t try to flee. I watch you.” He turned and strode off stiffly.
#
Oludara paddled the fifteen-foot canoe with Gerard as Arany guided them. He tried to focus on the river, but his gaze would invariably stray back to Arany. From time to time, she would look back and catch him staring at her.
Finally, she spoke. “Oludara, you should not look at me that way.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I am not familiar with your customs. Is it improper?”
“No,” she replied, “it is just...I cannot marry.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Do not ask,” she said, with a note of finality.
“Let me ask you another question then,” he said. “Why did you call the pajé to our aid, instead of speaking with the chiefs?”
“My parents died years ago, and Yandir has been like a father to me. Outside of him, the others shun me. They think I am a bringer of bad luck, and the fact that you followed me into the village helped neither your reputation nor mine.”
“Is that why Cabwassu said something about ‘getting rid of two problems at once’?”
“Yes. There are many who would like to be rid of me.”
“When this is all over,” said Oludara, “we could take you away from your tribe.”
Gerard coughed at the suggestion, but said nothing.
Arany looked at Oludara, sadness in her eyes. “Do not get too close, Oludara. My name means ‘foul weather’. I was born during a terrible storm. My entire life has been misfortune.”
“Look!” interrupted Gerard, pointing.
A human skull lay on the shore nearby. Oddly enough, it lay in two pieces, split just above the eyes. Rowing and talking ceased as the three paused to stare at it. They floated past the skull, only to spot a pile with several more. Almost all were split at the crown, just like the first. Among the skulls spread enormous piles of dung, which, Oludara noted, rivaled the size of those left by the buffalo herds of Africa. In terms of stench, however, Oludara would have preferred the herd.
“We are near,” whispered Arany.
“I don’t think you need to tell us that,” replied Gerard, nodding his head forward.
Some twenty yards before them lay a two-foot pile of cracked skulls: dozens of them.
They rowed for the bank and quietly pulled the canoe from the water. Gerard adjusted the rapier at his waist and loaded his harquebus. Oludara gathered a bow and arrows which Arany had acquired for him, and touched the ivory knife tucked at his waist. He studi
ed the ground.
“There is a path here,” he whispered, “follow my lead.”
He squatted and led them into the woods, pointing out thorns, vines, and other obstacles to avoid. After a time, he stopped and motioned them to lie down. Gerard came up beside him.
At the far end of a clearing stood a ten-foot tall cave entrance. Human bones and boulders—some of them enormous—littered the ground before it.
“What is that sound?” asked Gerard.
Oludara strained to hear the muffled echo of human shouts.
“They are cries for help,” whispered Arany. “It must be the lost hunters.”
“The sounds do not come from the cave,” said Oludara, squinting in concentration. “They seem to come from the ground. We should step with caution.”
As Oludara finished his statement, a creature emerged from the cave: without a doubt, the Kalobo.
The beast walked on two legs and stood a full seven feet tall. Black hair hung in thick clumps from its body. The wide face resembled a tapir, but with an elongated snout more like an anteater’s. Tiny eyes shone on the sides of its head. Instead of feet, it walked upon bull’s hooves. Rough, thick claws curled from its fingers, the middle claw extending beyond the others. It walked ponderously, slouched over yet exuding power with each step.
“This won’t be easy,” whispered Gerard.
“Indeed not,” said Oludara. He readied his bow. “First, I think we should test the natives’ claim that the beast cannot be pierced.”
“Wait,” whispered Arany, “it is doing something.”
The beast grappled a six-foot boulder and rolled it aside. From underneath, three natives jumped up and clawed out from a pit.
“Majui, Ipe, Uba,” gasped Arany. “Those are the lost hunters!”
Oludara began to rise, but an unexpected scream froze him in place. He had never heard anything like the Kalobo’s scream. It jarred his brain and pained his ears to bursting. His vision blurred; every muscle tensed and froze. All movement in and around the clearing ceased, except for the Kalobo.
Through his immobile haze, Oludara could just make out the beast grabbing one of the natives and tossing him to the ground, then kicking the other two back into the pit before replacing the stone. As Oludara felt his muscle control return, he saw the Kalobo rip off the top of the man’s head, turn it over, and suck out the brains with its snout.
A Parlous Battle Page 2