by Shirl Henke
“Now we both stink so badly I scarce can tell where one of us ends and the other begins, but do not wriggle that shapely bottom overmuch or I will paddle it until it grows as red as your hair.” He scooped up the large drying cloth and his leather saddlebag, then strode toward the door. Magdalena clawed and shrieked as furiously as an enraged parrot.
Aaron gave her rump a hard stinging swat and she subsided to mere guttural curses. “For a fine-born lady, you have heard an oath or two yourself, wife,” he said grimly as he walked toward the river.
Realizing that she was creating great amusement for the Tainos and that her already screaming muscles ached even more abominably with each kick and wriggle, Magdalena subsided as Aaron walked from the village. Soon he reached the river, the most public and common place where the villagers bathed. He did not stop but continued upstream, following the twists and turns of the water into higher elevations. The jungle closed about them in emerald splendor, the soft hues of twilight muting the brilliance of flowers from vivid crimsons and golds to delicate pinks and yellows.
Finally he turned off the trail and stepped between the large, fanlike leaves of a copse of dense low bushes, then stopped and put Magdalena down. Even before she turned, she heard the splash of the waterfall from a rocky ledge jutting out over the enchantingly lovely secluded pool. The beauty of the silvery spray and aqua water, surrounded by whispering palms and flowering shrubs, robbed her of speech.
“Tis a small tributary of the river below. An underground spring feeds its waters into the main body at the foot of the mountain,” he said as he tossed his bags onto the mossy ground beside the drying cloth.
“Did you find it or do others know of this enchantment?” she asked in awe.
He smiled, feeling oddly warmed by her pleasure and the disparity between the pristine beauty of the setting and the filth-covered condition of the intruders. “I was brought here when first I arrived at the village. At that time public bathing with, er, women and girl children watching me made me most uncomfortable. Guacanagari and his brother first showed me this place.”
“The women and girls, indeed! You puffed-up hypocrite,” she said, bristling as she surveyed his scanty loincloth.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Perhaps puffed-up is appropriate, wife, but I do not want you stinking as you do now. Disrobe and bathe. I only pray you do not pollute the drinking water so far below with your foulness.”
She turned and looked at his excrement-smeared skin. The left side of his head, which had rubbed against her hip while he carried her, attested to how her clothes had marked his jaw and clotted its debris in his long curling hair. “You are no cleaner than I am now.” It was her turn to smirk.
“Then God help the fishes,” he said with an oath. He quickly stripped off his loincloth and weapons, then looked at Magdalena with impatience.
She was struggling with the tight knot that tied her skirts. He stalked across the clearing, snatching up the knife from his belt on the ground, and said tersely, “Let it go. 'Tis ruined beyond washing anyway.” When she continued to tug at the garment he yanked her hands free and she let out a small involuntary hiss of pain.
“You are bleeding,” he exclaimed in puzzlement as he grabbed one small hand and inspected it. Blood of the Martyrs, her fingertips were crisscrossed with tiny cuts and her palms laced with broken blisters! The acidic soil enrichers must have burned like fire, yet she had worked in them all day. “You will sicken with a disease of the blood from rubbing filth in this broken skin,” he said, his voice cross with concern. “Let me cut the tunic away, Magdalena,” he added more gently.
Slowly she let her stinging hands drop and he quickly cut the noisome garment from her and threw it in the bushes. “Now I have one less piece of clothing. Soon I will work as the Taino women do,” she said as she turned and began to unfasten the bejuco ties holding her braid atop her head.
He watched her, noting the way she winced perceptibly with every movement. Her feet were almost as cut and blistered as her hands. Every muscle in her body must have been taxed beyond his capacity to imagine. Raised to be a soldier since boyhood, Aaron had long known physical hardship, but this delicate woman could never have imagined this hellish kind of toil.
Once she finished unplaiting her hair, Magdalena felt his eyes on her and looked up to meet the level blue gaze. Instead of the scorching, smirking arrogance she expected, he appeared contrite—perhaps even ashamed? More likely he pitied her! She turned on her heel and dove into the water, swimming to the center of the pool before she surfaced. The smell was almost gone already when she shook her head free of sparkling droplets. Blessed Virgin, thank you!
“You gave me a fright.” Aaron said as one long arm snaked out and seized her around her slim waist, pulling her to him as he treaded water. “Few ladies of the court learn to swim.”
“More is the pity for you, then, that I was raised in the marshes swimming with peasant girls, else you might have been free of an unwanted wife,” she said, kicking off and crossing the pool with strong, smooth strokes.
He chuckled and began to swim for the shore where his bag lay. The sound of his rich laughter did queer things to her heart, making it leap and beat erratically in her breast. Then, when he walked dripping from the water and knelt with unconscious grace before a low shrub, the heat in her cheeks began to move lower, thrumming through her racing blood. He broke off a handful of the spiky green branches from the plant and returned to the water with them.
“This will cleanse the stench from us,” he said, coaxing her near by offering her a piece of the aromatic plant. ” Tis called fruit soap by the sailors. I can barely pronounce the Taino word for it myself, but it means sweet smell in their language.”
When she reached for it, his hand closed firmly yet gently about her wrist and he pulled her into the shallow water near the falls. “Stand up and let me show you how to apply it,” he commanded, himself rising to stand knee-deep in the silvery aqua water.
Magdalena complied and he worked the pulpy mass between his palms until he had a creamy white liquid which he then began to rub over her arms, then up to her throat and about her face.
“Close your eyes. It stings.”
She obeyed, swaying in the warm night air. Unconsciously, her hand reached out and held to his shoulder as he worked the lather downward, reaching her breasts, which he washed with exquisite care. Her eyes flew open as she felt the raw frisson of pleasure that tightened her firm young nipples until they ached.
Aaron suppressed the groan of desire that struggled to burst from deep in his throat and said hoarsely, “Here, take this piece and lather me as I do you.” His hands moved lower and he slid them about her slim hips, gliding around her to cup and massage her buttocks.
Magdalena worked the creamy white soap onto his shoulders and across his chest. When she began to cleanse his shaggy gold hair, he turned her around and worked the soap into her masses of dark russet curls, then moved down her slim back, her legs, even to her small feet, lifting them one at a time from the shallow water. Taking more of the plant from the rocky ledge by the side of the falls, he handed her some leaves and turned his back. At the unspoken command she soaped his broad back, her fingers caressing the old scars, now so familiar on his hard, splendid body. When he turned again to face her, she reddened, feeling his straining staff push gently against her belly.
“Wash it, Magdalena,” he whispered as he began to lather her belly and then moved to the curls at the juncture of her thighs. He felt her quiver. The breathy little moan she emitted felt sweet and warm against his cheek.
Magdalena felt the world begin to spin, and her body seemed to whirl out of control. Always Aaron's touch had this effect on her. She quickly grasped his staff in her small hands, wanting to evoke a similar feeling of powerlessness in him. When she massaged the hard pulsing rod with slick soap, he gasped and muttered what sounded like an oath in the Taino tongue.
They stood quietly for a moment, gen
tly caressing as they bathed, both inundated with such intense feelings they could scarcely breathe. Then one soapy lock of her hair plopped against his chest, breaking the spell. He ceased his delicate stroking on her soft nether lips and scooped her into his arms, carrying her beneath the waterfall. “Let us rinse off. We are bathed cleaner than a Jewish rabbi before Yom Kippur,” he said as he set her on her feet in the falls.
The cool water splashed everywhere, like silky music stinging them softly as they ran their hands over each other, partly to wipe away the soap, mostly to feel the heat from each other's flesh. Their laughter blended with the gentle patter of the falls as they clung and kissed beneath its purifying blessing.
Aliyah, who had seen them bypass the village's public bathing place, followed the lovers to their secluded Eden and watched as they bathed and laughed, cavorting so sensuously in the water. She remembered a distant atoll where he had done the same thing with her in a secluded pool, always careful of his privacy when coupling with a woman. A jealous rage built in her as she watched Aaron pull the pale, skinny foreigner deeper behind the curtain of water and sink slowly to the earth with her in his arms. She turned and ran from the hateful sight, unable to bear seeing Magdalena claim her golden lover. How easily he had refused the enticement of her lush curves this very morning, only to fly to his shapeless, ugly, red-haired wife!
Aaron gently lay Magdalena back on the soft moss behind the falls. As he caressed her skin, now free of the lubricating soap, he could feel all the insect bites and abrasions she had endured. The sun had painfully reddened her face, arms and legs. He leaned down and kissed her eyelids, murmuring, “Lie here and wait but a moment. I have medicines in my pack to soothe your sore skin.” Gently touching her cheek with a featherlike caress, he stood up and walked around the falls, circling the pool to fetch the cloth and his saddlebag.
Magdalena lay bemused, the flame inside her raging far more fiercely than any in her burned skin. He was back in a moment, kneeling at her side to dry her with a cloth. Then as she toweled at her hair, he opened a small vial of sweet-smelling oil which he began to work gently into her skin, stroking her nose, cheeks, arms, and lower legs, paying particular attention to the little welts from insect bites. Lastly, kissing her palms and fingertips, he worked the oil into her small, delicate hands.
“I am sorry, Magdalena. I did not intend for you to stay out all day doing such menial and difficult labor. I am ever wanting to break your high-spirited Castilian pride, but at the same time I know well that if ever I succeeded, I would regret it.” He paused and looked into her eyes, filled with wonder, luminous in the twilight.
A small smile wobbled on her lips. “Then 'tis a good thing I am possessed of such a mighty reserve of stubborn pride, is it not?” She reached up and pulled him into her arms.
Aaron kissed her slowly, as if to drain the sweet heat from her mouth, deepening the kiss as he tangled his hands in her glorious mane of hair. Then he moved down her body with wet silky caresses, stopping to suckle and tease the pale pink nipples of her proudly upthrust breasts. When she arched her back to meet his mouth, he felt a primitive thrill. Magdalena always made him feel, at least while they made love, that she had never felt another man's touch.
His questing hands moved lower, followed by his hot moist lips, brushing firmly across her belly onto the mound of curls below. Then he parted her thighs and nuzzled the delicate flesh of her sex. He could feel her trembling yet resisting. He ignored her shocked protest as he persisted, holding her hips prisoner with his strong hands. Magdalena surrendered with a moan of ecstasy, and he continued to stroke, lick, and kiss, using his mouth to make her limp and mindless with pleasure.
She was aflame, writhing, no longer in resistance but in utter abandon as he probed and lapped her in this shocking, incredible new way. She should stop him. This was unnatural. This was glorious. Soon her hands had left off pushing at his shoulders to tangle in his shaggy gold hair, urging him onward until she felt the most exquisite, intense release she had ever experienced. Her hips arched up toward the starry sky, then fell back to earth like the soft lapping waters that caressed the edges of the pool.
Aaron lifted his head and looked at his wife's dazed, replete face. For all she had been with other men, he felt equally certain that none had ever made love to her this way. Even Magdalena could not act that well! He watched her luminous green eyes open as she stared up at him in awe. Still shaking, she touched his cheek with great tenderness and then looked away, her thick russet lashes shielding her emotions from him. As she sat up, her body was sheened silver in the moonlight that filtered through their waterfall curtain. The night air was balmy and perfumed, sweetened even more with the rich musk of sex.
Magdalena watched his face. She was satiated by the incredible pleasure he had given her, yet embarrassed and vulnerable because of the way he had done so. Finally she found her voice. “Where...where did you learn of that?” The moment she asked the question she feared the answer—the hedonistic Taino women were doubtless highly inventive in the art of love.
His low, rich chuckle did nothing to dispel her fears until he answered, “In Granada. I was ever a good student of Arabic. On several occasions I was sent into the city before the siege, posing as a Jewish scholar loyal to their cause. While spying for the Trastamaras, I visited Boabdil's court and the various pleasure houses of that decadent and beautiful city.” He ran his hand along her thigh and up to her breast softly. “The Moors are very attuned to the needs and pleasures of the human body.”
She almost blurted out another question. Have you done this with Aliyah? She stopped herself. It was foolish to seek answers best left unknown. She looked at his splendid body as he reclined on his side. His shaft remained rigid, his whole frame filled with sexual tension. Magdalena took a deep breath for courage and reached out to touch him, running her fingertips from his face down to the golden fur on his chest, tracing its narrowed descent across his taut belly. She paused in mock playfulness and whispered, “This Moorish way of loving...can a woman do for a man...” Her courage deserted her.
Aaron reached for her hand and wrapped it around his aching phallus. “Yes, she can,” he managed to reply hoarsely as he felt the white hot jolt of pleasure her touch brought. “Tis a way of making love that is very ancient. Not only the Moors know its secret.”
“Teach me,” she said softly, almost as if it were a supplication. She leaned over him as he guided her, slowly, gently, to taste of him. Magdalena felt increasingly bold when he gasped and arched at the slight grazing by her lips and tongue. Then he attempted to instruct her in roughened, breathless phrases, but she no longer needed instruction, and he was no longer capable of giving it. She took the sleek velvety heat of him into her mouth. His response communicated the same feeling of powerless surrender that she had felt when he held her in thrall. Slowly she savored him, pleasured by giving him the same ecstasy he had given her. When he stiffened and swelled, crying out incoherently, she felt a thrill of power that was almost intoxicating. Then he trembled and exploded, achieving the same earth-shattering release she had.
Aaron lay spent. Always there was this brief moment of deep peace that hovered about him after making love with this woman, only this woman, his woman, his wife. He pulled her up into his arms, not wanting to think on it or the reasons why it was so. He stroked her hair and held her close.
She nestled against him and murmured against his chest, ” 'Tis not unnatural at all. At first I thought it must be...but it is so good.” She hesitated, then turned her face up to his, searching for a kiss. “Do we taste of each other?” she asked boldly.
“Let us see,” he replied to her ingenuous plea for a kiss. He drew her close and claimed her mouth for a long, savoring kiss, not of passion, but of exceeding gentleness.
“Yes,” was her simple answer to her own question. With that her lips curved in a slight smile and she snuggled in his arms and slept.
* * * *
They returned to th
e village at dawn's first light, she clad in the long swath of cotton cloth they had dried on last evening, he again in a simple loincloth. Many people were stirring when they walked the wide streets, for this day was to be a special religious festival. Magdalena was curious about what would transpire. Her attitude toward these generous and gentle people was gradually undergoing a transformation. Always possessed of a lively and inquiring mind, she had honed it in the all-too-brief months of friendship with Benjamin Torres. Wanting to grow closer to her husband and please him, she too sought to understand the Tainos who had taken him to their hearts.
No longer were they simply naked savages to her, even though she chaffed beneath the double standards Aaron placed on her. The women of the village were sexually promiscuous and went about completely naked until they were wed. Yet he had always condemned her for what he unjustly considered her impurity and was furious when she did but bare her arms and legs.
She smiled and nodded as they passed by people busily at work outside their houses. Aaron was jealous! No man but him should see her unclothed. That gladdened her heart, especially after his tenderness last night. He had been penitent about sending her to work in the fields. Half his anger had been guilt, the other frightened possessiveness. Surely that meant he was beginning to return her feelings for him. It may take me a great while, my husband, but I vowed to make you love me and I shall!
Around noon the drums began to beat in a slow, steady cadence. Everyone of rank in the village was freshly bathed and dressed in their finest ceremonial garb, bedecked with feathers in their hair, wearing many fine pieces of gold and copper jewelry as well as necklaces and girdles of intricate beauty.
“What do we do?” Magdalena asked Aaron nervously as she watched the streets fill with solemn Tainos queuing up to enter the temple next to Guacanagari's bohio.
“I have told you that it might be best if you remained here,” he replied cautiously. “This is a feast to honor their zemis·, and as such may upset your religious sensibilities.”