“Kulachinga.”
“Kitchlooka. She will lie on the other. And we will press you close between us, and smother you amongst our flesh. Is there any better way to perish?”
“I think your spirits are returning, Teresa.”
“It is this wine,” she said. And smiled again, but it was a dark and sharp-angled smile, for dead Portugals did boil in the kettle, and live ones were chained to the far tree, and man-eaters roared and pranced all about us. And those were realities that could not lightly be thrust aside by jest.
The meat now was served, to the Imbe-Jaqqa first, and then to Kinguri, and then to me. Teresa hissed a little when the platter was brought to us, and looked away, and much of her fragile newly-won ease went from her.
“I will have none,” said I to the servitor. For I would not let Teresa see me partaking of such stuff; and in truth, though I had grown casual to Jaqqa fare in my long time among them, I could no more have made a meal of the flesh of Don Fernão da Souza, which is what most likely was being served us, than could I have taken my own right arm to my mouth, and bite off a gobbet of myself to gnaw. So the joint was passed, and we drank our wine and ate our porridge. It was an ordinary evening’s amusement among the Jaqqas, that I had known many times before, but tonight I saw it as Dona Teresa did see it, and I think it brought me to my senses somewhat to perceive these festivities with her eyes.
She stayed contained, and held back her tears and her fright. The feast became too mad and noisy for the exchanging of words, and we sat side by side saying little. At our high table there was much pounding and laughing, and great abundance of wine being consumed.
Yet also were there some frictions apparent between the Imbe-Jaqqa and his brother: I saw them whispering, and glaring hotly, and once the witch Kakula-banga came to them, and seemed to play the role of a mediator in a hard dispute. I think, from the words I could catch, that they quarreled over the sparing of Dona Teresa, which Kinguri still thought to be an error. Cunning Kinguri, to see in her the force that lay coiled there! To know, almost by second sight, that she was a woman of power and purpose, which it was wisest to slay out of hand while yet she was fettered! I admired the keenness of him, and I feared the consequences of having thwarted him; and in a way I knew that by wheedling the life of Dona Teresa from Imbe Calandola against the strong counsel of Kinguri, I had widened the wedge that was opening between the two brothers, and had increased the difficulties of my own position in the Jaqqa camp.
At length the brothers put the matter aside, and Calandola diverted himself by commanding a wrestling match. My man Golambolo came forth in the first, and one named Tikonje-nzinga, and they faced one another and reached forth their long arms and began the slow and stately dance that was the praeludium and introduction to their combat.
Such wrestling had I seen many times at these man-eating feasts, and always was there a fierce beauty to it. The essence of the sport was in the display of agility and suppleness it afforded, not in the winning or losing: little heed seemed to be paid to victory, but only to excellence of performance, and one who displayed grace in the manner of his defeat often was hailed as warmly as his conqueror. So now did Golambolo and Tikonje-nzinga go artfully through their pavanes and allemandes of combat, until in the press of the struggle Tikonje-nzinga was thrown, and fell most serenely, which won him acclaim.
The next pair to wrestle was Kaimba and Ngonga—for high lords of the Jaqqas did eagerly take their turns in the arena—and after them, the venerable Ntotela, with a man nearly his age, much muscled and brawned, by name Kulurimba. And they all were elegant and splendid in their movements, and I did envy and admire them, thinking, Lord, give me the grace and skill to wrestle as they do! And I wondered what would befall me if I were to go into the arena, which never yet had I done.
I looked to Dona Teresa, and in faith she was moved as I was moved by the beauties of this sport. Her eyes did gleam and her face was held fixed and her breathing came slow, and her lips were a little apart, and as one man or the other gained briefly the supremacy, she did clench and unclench her hands in silent concern. And at last turned to me, when Ntotela knelt upon his opponent’s chest, and said in a thick whispering voice, “Ah, they are like angels, when they wrestle! How can that be, that devils may be like angels?”
“It is the great art amongst them, this combat.”
“And have you learned it?”
“I? I have watched, but I have never fought.”
“But would you, Andres, if you were called out?”
“That I would, and most gladly,” said I. “And God guard me well, for I fear the callowest of these Jaqqas would be my master at it, but yet would I joy to engage with one.”
“Why, see, then, the high lord devil is looking about for the next wrestlers, this moment. Go you, Andres!”
“Ah, not this night,” said I, and would not meet Calandola’s questing eye.
For indeed I had a different sort of wrestle in mind. Now I had me two wives, and my mind did dwell uncomfortingly on what would occur when I brought Teresa together with Kulachinga. We are not trained in England, after all, in the keeping of harems.
“Will you not fight, then?” Teresa asked, and I saw her blood stirred by the battles that had been enacted.
“I tell you, not this night. Come: the festivity is entering its late hours, and I would have you meet my Kulachinga.”
I took her by the arm, and led her down into the midst of the Jaqqas. And lo! there was no chill between them. My Jaqqa wife only smiled without rancor, for it was the custom for these people to take wives by the score, and perhaps she had thought me overdue. And Dona Teresa, who once had given me grief enough over her rival Matamba, now greeted Kulachinga most graciously. Though neither spoke a word of the other’s language, they seemed instantly to enter into a communication.
Together we went to the habitation the Jaqqas had set aside for me in this new camp of theirs outside Agokayongo. It was a fine fair wicker-work cottage, with straw strewn over the ground, and some brocaded scarlet-and-purple draperies on the wall that I had carried with me since being given them by Kinguri in the town of Shillambansa that we sacked. I was weary with long travel and much excitement of the evening and the heavy wine, and upon entering the place I sank down upon my knees to the ground. My two women did come to me then and ease me with caresses, which was passing strange to me, to be with two at once. For there they were, the handsome Portuguese woman in her torn finery, and the strong-bodied black woman with her skin all greased and her hair thick with clay. One could scarce conceive a stranger tripling of souls than we.
There was a difficult moment at the outset, when I did feel the closeness of Dona Teresa by me. For there had been a great gulf of years and feeling between us since our fiery early love, and such gulfs are not readily bridged. So many seasons had swept through time’s great brazen gate, since last our flesh had met in this sort of embrace, that I felt sore estranged from her, and uneasy at resuming our lovemaking.
But old skills well learned do swift return. I put my hands to her breasts, and my lips to her lips, which drew a giggling burst of laughter from Kulachinga, to whom kissing was strange. And then Dona Teresa and I were pressed body to body from thighs to chest, and her fingers did dig deep into my flesh, and mine into hers, as though with one great seizure of one another we could atone for all the years apart.
Yet was there also Kulachinga, and I would not spurn her. So I did ease my grip on Teresa after a bit, and turn to the Jaqqa woman, and we embraced also in our different manner. During this, Dona Teresa did stroke her oiled skin most familiarly, most lovingly, with no show of shame at the handling of another woman’s body.