"So am I."
35
Down to the falls of Hitû they went—as Ruis had promised—to view the special offering by the slaves to the "mother of rivers and waters," the goddess, Iemanjá.
It was New Year's Eve, and Maranta and Dona Isobel rode in the palanquin, while Ruis and Vasco were on horseback.
Maranta was surprised to see Vasco astride a horse. The entire time she had lived on the fazenda, she had never seen him attempt to ride. He must have practiced without anyone's knowing, except for Patû. He would have needed the Indian's help in getting into the saddle and being strapped down.
Vasco handled the horse well. Over the past months his arms had become powerful—not unusual for one who had lost the use of his legs. Riding directly behind him was Patû, as always, silent and enigmatic.
The terraced slopes were lit by torches at various points along the way. And the pathway was crowded. It seemed that nearly all the slaves were taking part in the ritual. Maranta looked back toward the fazenda. Naka and a few Indians had remained behind at the plantation house to watch over little Paulo.
Maranta was uneasy about leaving the baby. But, of course, it would not do to take him out into the night air. He was safer with Naka in the nursery.
Speaking to Dona Isobel, Maranta said, "Have you seen this ritual before?"
"Many times, Maranta. Even though it's quite pagan, it's a beautiful sight, especially when the candles and flowers are carried over the falls. And it is even more breathtaking in Rio by the sea, with the white sand and the snowy tablecloths covered with colorful gifts. Perhaps you will have an opportunity to see it sometime when you visit the royal court." The roar of the falls grew louder, making conversation difficult.
A large canopy had already been spread on the bank overlooking the falls. It was a pavilion suitable for a king, set up for their comfort, with cushions in place.
Deeming it rude to stare, Maranta did not watch as Patû helped Vasco from the horse. She took her place in the pavilion and turned to watch the slaves gathering.
The women, dressed and decorated in their finest clothes, laid out their gifts upon the banks. As they began to sing and to chant and move in rhythm to the chanting, the sound rose over the noise of the falls.
Staring at the foaming waters that rushed to cascade down the steep ravine, Maranta said, "The falls look extremely dangerous. Has anyone ever gone over them?"
Beside her, Ruis replied, "One fellow did—several years ago. But he had been drinking too much aguardente. It was his own fault."
"Did they. . . find him?"
"No, Maranta. But you are not to think of such unpleasantness. You are supposed to be enjoying the celebration."
Vasco, now seated on the other side of Maranta, said, "This is a mere trickle, dear wife, in comparison to Iguaçu Falls in the Paraná. It plunges over two hundred feet straight down and even carries huge trees over the precipice."
"Then I am glad we are not at Iguaçu. This place looks dangerous enough to me."
Despite the gaiety, Maranta felt there was something menacing in the waters that foamed and rushed to disappear over the abrupt precipice.
"Look, Maranta," Dona Isobel said. "They are lighting their candles. Soon it will be time."
"Offerings for a beautiful woman," Vasco commented. "The river is the same, waiting to take anything offered to her. Do you have something you wish to contribute, Maranta, so that the goddess can smile on you for the new year?" he asked.
"No, I have brought nothing with me."
"What about the comb in your hair? Iemanjá might be content with that."
"Do not tease her, Vasco," Ruis warned. "She is not at home with our pagan ways."
Vasco laughed and turned to Dona Isobel. "What about you, Dona Isobel? Do you not wish to appease the goddess? Isn't there some sin you wish the 'mother of waters' to forgive?"
Dona Isobel's mouth tightened. "No. Nothing," she said, glaring at Vasco.
Maranta caught sight of Sassia among the dancers. All at once, she was not the civilized young girl Maranta had known back at the fazenda. She was transformed by the vibrant, throbbing rhythm of the music. In a primitive ritual, she moved and swayed and chanted. Maranta kept her eyes on Sassia when the signal was given.
At midnight the sirens and bells sounded. And the shrieking began. The river was suddenly filled with rushing figures, surrounded by chains of candles, offerings swiftly rushing toward the falls. The celebrants followed to a certain point and then stopped to watch, while Iemanjá took their offerings, sweeping them over the falls and out of sight.
The ceremony was over. The people climbed out of the river. Iemanjá had been appeased for another year.
Maranta and Dona Isobel climbed back into the palanquin. As they retraced the route to the fazenda, the torches were extinguished along the way, one by one. Maranta took a last glance toward the falls. She could not see it, but the roaring sound of the waters stayed with her far into the night and invaded her dreams.
The night was significant for another reason. Maranta had never left little Paulo for even that short a time before. Going immediately to the nursery, she saw her son had been well cared for in her absence. The wet nurse was feeding him, and she watched for a moment, seeing his little hands curled in pleasure at having his appetite satisfied. Breast-feeding had been denied her because of her illness. Except for holding him and loving him, she realized the child could well do without her. And that knowledge hurt her.
When several months passed and Innocencia's brothers did not return to the fazenda, Maranta finally relaxed. Sometimes, she wondered if that frightening episode had ever taken place except in her mind—the men bursting into her room and the angry words spoken by Ruis.
The warm season gave way to winter, with a chill in the air and a promise of frost, the enemy of the tender coffee plants. Maranta could tell that Ruis was worried about the crop. He seemed preoccupied at dinner, and his face showed the strain of long hours of work and worry. But the weather cleared and the danger disappeared. The snowy white blossoms on the slopes turned into berries, and the waiting for their harvest began.
During this waiting period, Ruis decided they should go to São Paulo. "I have business in the city," he said, "that I have put off far too long. And while we are there, we might as well stay for the Intrudo season."
Dona Isobel spoke. "Then you intend for us to travel with you, Ruis?"
"Yes, Isobel. I think Maranta would enjoy seeing the festivities. The last trip was not a particularly pleasant one for her."
"I don't understand. What is this Intrudo?" Maranta asked.
"It is similar to Carnival in Rio," Dona Isobel explained. "It's the time of gay festivities and parties before Lent."
Maranta nodded. "Like Mardi Gras in New Orleans."
"Of course, only the rough elements roam the streets, throwing flour on each other. We will avoid that part and attend the private parties instead," Isobel finished explaining.
Ruis, looking at his brother, said, "And it will be good to have you also, Vasco. It is past time for you to visit the city again."
Ruis's words brought displeasure to Vasco. He frowned and said, "No, Ruis. I will never go back to São Paulo to be stared at and pitied. You will have to go without me."
Ruis's lips tightened. "I will not force you, Vasco. But your friends in the city will miss seeing you."
"I have no friends," he answered bitterly. Ruis changed the subject.
Preparations were made for the trip with the canoe fleet. Maranta and Dona Isobel spent the rest of the week seeing to the packing of clothes and other necessities. Vasco, still adamant, elected to remain at the fazenda.
On their last evening before leaving, Dona Isobel retired early for the night, and Vasco disappeared to his own apartments on the first floor as soon as dinner was over.
Maranta paced up and down in her bedroom. She could not go to sleep for thinking of her baby. It had been a wrench to leave him just fo
r one evening. But to be gone at least a month—he was growing so fast. Maranta wondered if she would recognize him when she returned. Worse, he might have forgotten her. He was just now beginning to smile and follow her with his eyes when she was in the room, and to gurgle when she held him.
Maranta released her long, black, silken hair from the confinement of her combs and brushed it vigorously. The long white embroidered robe that she had worn when she was pregnant was more comfortable than the gowns and peignoirs that she had brought with her from Charleston. She stared in the mirror. Her figure had changed, taking on a more womanly shape after the birth of Paulo. Now, her gowns were too tight across her breasts. But she had not mentioned the problem to anyone. She did not want to ask Vasco for money to replenish her wardrobe. But neither did she feel she could request it of Ruis. Her position was too awkward.
Suddenly wanting to take one last look at little Paulo, Maranta left her apartment and silently walked down the deserted hall to the nursery.
When she entered, the lamp was burning low on the table. Maranta tiptoed to the ornate crib. Paulo was awake. He gave her a toothless grin, and she could not resist taking him up to hold in her arms. It would be such a long time before she saw him again.
"Paulo," she whispered, "I love you." She bent down to kiss him, and he grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling it to his mouth.
Behind her, a voice said, "He is a true Monteiro male, is he not?—reaching out for what he wants."
A large brown hand removed Maranta's hair from the baby's grasp, and when she was free, Maranta gazed into the amused dark eyes of Ruis.
"I came to say good-bye, since we leave so early in the morning," Maranta apologized.
A tender look replaced the amusement in Ruis's face. "There is no need to explain, menina. Is it not a mother's right to hold her son whenever she wishes?"
"It will be such a long time. . ."
"I know, Maranta. And I, too, will miss seeing him." Ruis stared at the child in Maranta's arms, and he reached out to touch the baby's plump cheek.
The man was too close. A breathlessness came over Maranta. She placed the child again in his crib and turned to leave. "Good night, Ruis," she said, trying to escape.
"I will walk with you to your apartment," he said, closing the nursery door behind him.
Maranta hurried along the corridor. "Do you have everything packed?" Ruis asked when they neared the sitting room door.
"Yes."
Maranta stopped and waited for Ruis to open the door. Instead, he took her hand in his and drew it to his lips. Maranta trembled. In the dim, deserted hall they stood, staring at each other. The tension was more than Maranta could bear. His fingers caressed her arm in a sensuous motion.
"Maranta," he whispered, moving toward her. Afraid her heart would give her away, she moaned and stepped back. Ruis, seeing her recoil at his touch, took his hand from her arm.
"Good night, Maranta."
He left her at the door and walked rapidly down the hall.
Sassia came into the bedroom with the breakfast tray in her hands before dawn. "Senhora, it is time to get up," she said, standing by the bed.
Maranta stirred but did not waken.
"Senhora," Sassia called again. "Dom Ruis is almost ready to leave."
The words woke her, and Maranta sat up, brushing her long hair from her face and yawning. Ruis would be impatient to start, just as he had been at the port of Santos. How could she forget? She must not keep him waiting for her. The candle flame sputtered before turning into a steady glow at Maranta's touch.
"I'll have breakfast in the sitting room, Sassia," she said, slipping into the robe and walking barefoot over the furry white carpet with the candlestick in her hand. The black girl followed and placed the tray on the table beside the lilac sofa.
By the light of the candle, Maranta sipped the hot tea and ate a slice of melon. She left the corn cakes on her plate and returned to the bedroom to wash her face and put on her traveling dress and cape with the servant's help.
Soon she was ready, and her excitement at the trip vied with her reluctance to leave little Paulo. "Sassia, you will help to watch over Paulo while I am gone?"
"Of course, senhora," the girl answered. "Do not worry. Naka and I will watch over him well."
"Thank you," Maranta murmured, taking her reticule in her hands.
She had to have one last quick look at her child to make sure he was all right. Maranta dashed toward the nursery and walked into the room. Paulo was still asleep. She stood gazing down at the baby and a sudden sense of foreboding swept over her.
He was so tiny. Anything could happen to him while she was away. Maranta swallowed and forced back the tears. It was unfair of Ruis to expect her to leave him for an entire month.
She did not have to go to São Paulo. Dona Isobel and Ruis could go on without her; she would stay. Having made up her mind, she hurried out to the fazenda steps where the wagon containing their trunks stood.
"Please," she said in her halting Portuguese to the two boys near the wagon. "Will you take my trunk and set it back inside the house?"
Puzzled at her request, the two boys nevertheless took her trunk and carried it up the steps to the veranda just as Ruis walked out of the sala da entrada.
"What are you doing?" he asked the boys in a displeased voice.
"The senhora wishes her trunk brought back inside," one boy said, looking toward Maranta and then back to Ruis.
"Return it to the wagon."
"Sim, Dom Ruis."
The boys reloaded the trunk while Maranta stared open-mouthed at the arrogant conde. With her skirts rustling from her rapid steps, she approached him.
"I have changed my mind, Ruis. I am not going to São Paulo."
His sapphire eyes in the early morning sun sparked with anger. "It is too late, menina, for you to change your mind. The arrangements have already been made."
"But I do not wish to leave little Paulo. . ."
"You are using him as an excuse, Maranta. Doctor Cavales will come to the fazenda each week while we are away to check on the child. And the padre will be here the entire time." Ruis's anger increased and his words were sharp. "I think there is another reason for this sudden attempt to back out. I believe you are afraid."
"Afraid? Of what, Ruis? Of the river, of the bats, or the snakes?" She gazed at the muçurana that lay in a coil by the steps, and she shuddered, remembering her narrow escape from the jararaca.
"I believe you are more afraid of me," he accused. "Of having to share your bed with me again—particularly after last night. But let me assure you, Maranta. If I should feel the need of taking a wench to bed, there will be many from the finest families in São Paulo, willing to accommodate me."
Maranta was so furious at his words, she dared not speak. She flounced down to the waiting palanquin and climbed in, turning her back to Ruis, while the boys secured her trunk on the wagon.
36
At the fazenda, Vasco sat in his apartment, holding the baby that he acknowledged publicly as his own. Maranta and Dona Isobel and Ruis had been gone on their journey to São Paulo for only three days.
Floresta's dark eyes glowered at the sight of Vasco with the baby, Paulo, in his arms. He had never shown such attention to Tefe, his own son.
"He looks like me, don't you think, Floresta?" Vasco said. "No one would ever suspect that I am not the father."
"You deceive yourself, Vasco, if you think your brother is going to let you play the role of father to Paulo much longer."
"What are you insinuating, Floresta?"
"Dom Ruis will get rid of you just as he did Innocencia. And then he will make Senhora Maranta his wife."
"You are stupid, woman. Ruis would not kill me—his own brother."
The Indian girl sneered. "Did brotherhood stop you, Vasco, from trying to murder Dom Ruis that day of your accident?"
Vasco's face showed his annoyance at the girl's words, but she continued. "If you had seen y
our brother in the nursery with the senhora the night before they left, you would have no doubt he wants her. Dom Ruis will soon claim your wife, Vasco, as surely as he will claim his own son—and you will be left with nothing."
Vasco took the rattle from little Paulo's hands and hurled it at Floresta. She ducked and ran laughing from the room.
The baby began to cry, and in a fit of temper, Vasco shouted, "Naka, take this bawling brat back to the nursery."
Once planted, the seed began to grow in Vasco's mind. He brooded over Floresta's words. She was right—Ruis had always been the lucky one. Even that day on the pampas, as they were driving the cattle to Sorocaba.
It had looked so easy, with Ruis in such a vulnerable position, apart from the rest. Vasco's shoulders moved in pain as he remembered. The sudden appearance of the gauchos, diverting the stampede from their master—almost like guardian angels appearing from nowhere—forcing the herd in the opposite direction.
Ironically, what he had intended for Ruis became his own destiny—to be knocked from his horse and trampled underfoot. And the ultimate disgrace had been to have Ruis come to his rescue.
Vasco stared down at his useless legs and recalled, with bitterness, his aborted effort to rid himself of his brother.
No, Ruis would not have it all his way. He had been the powerful one far too long. But now Vasco realized the vast power he held in his own hands to make Ruis suffer. He would never give up Maranta to him. And as for the child—
With a satanic expression, Vasco wheeled his chair onto the veranda and sat, staring in the direction of the river falls.
The sound of the rapids broke upon the idyllic peace of the day. Maranta reluctantly gathered the black cape around her and prepared to leave the canoe. It was so much more pleasant on the water than sitting in a jolting cart, riding the rough trail alongside the river until it became navigable again. But even with the roughness, this trip was much more sociable than the last; other women were also traveling to São Paulo to take part in the Intrudo.
The women had all mistaken Maranta for Dom Ruis's wife, which embarrassed her. When she tried to explain, Dom Ruis interferred. "It is safer for you, pequena, if these people think you have a jealous husband to protect you. I am not sure that you would be safe, even with Dona Isobel sleeping by your side. The men are much too bold as it is." Ruis's eyes narrowed. "I had not realized that the child has turned into a woman. We will have to do something about your clothes, Maranta, when we reach São Paulo."
Daughters of the Summer Storm Page 28