Den of the Wolfman

Chapter 4: Tales of Monsters

Seventeen Years Ago

Bandas hefted the water bladders on his shoulders and waddled into the field. It was the height of summer, and they had just gone through their first harvest, so the plantation was hurrying to get the year's second round of crops into the ground. Slaves were going down the length of the field, each of them carrying a staff and a sack of seeds. Each man would poke his staff into the ground, drop in some seeds, close the hole with his foot, and proceed to the next hole. It was a rhythmic motion that almost seemed to be part of a dance.

The first slave Bandas approached was his brother Telumah. Now fifteen, Telumah was already massive, his broad shoulders and round arms glistening whenever the sun managed to get under his broad hat and touch them. Bandas got to him, plopped one bladder down at his feet, and raised the other up toward him with both hands.

"I need that," said Telumah. He stopped briefly, wiped sweat from his brow, and took a long series of gulps from the soft container. He then handed it back to Bandas and rubbed the long hair on the younger boy's head.

The overseer was nearby. As was his custom, he was sitting on his horse with one foot in the stirrup and the opposite leg bent across the seat of the saddle, a book in his hand. He would turn a page, read a bit, look up at the slaves, and then go back to his book. As he had many times in the past, Bandas had a quick daydream of being a free man and having a job—any job—that would allow him to read books most of the day.

Seeing that Telumah was done, Bandas shouldered the water bladders and continued to the next slave. He continued in this way in this field and then in the other fields that were currently being planted. When they were done planting, they went back to plowing the last fields that had been harvested, and Bandas continued to haul bladders full of water while that work was being done as well. As usual, they did not stop working until the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon.

The slaves trudged back to their huts and gathered around the firepit as usual. Bandas's mother stood beside the great black kettle that hung over the fire on a long iron arm. She ladeled some stew into a bamboo bowl and blew on it, the steam creating a ghostly haze across her face in the twilight. Bandas could smell the meat, spices, and roots, and he felt as if his stomach would leap out of his body and start slurping the stuff up directly. He came up close to the firepit and collapsed upon one of the dozen bamboo mats there.

"Hello, dear," said Bandas's mother as she touched the hunks of root in the bowl and continued to blow. "How was work today?" she asked.

"I'm tired," said Bandas.

"But you're healthy, and thank Yalux for that," she said.

"Ah, Peliel!" said one of the men. "So glad it's you cooking tonight! Your soup is always the best!"

"Don't give me your nonsense, Dakak," she said. "We all follow the same recipe."

"But you do it the best!" he said.

She harrumphed at that and finally took a piece of root in her fingers and bit into it. She then nodded.

"It's ready," she said, and she used the rotating arm to swing the kettle away from the fire. A line of slaves formed, all taking up bamboo bowls. Bandas remained seated because he knew that he would have to wait.

Another female slave appeared with a basket full of biscuits. Peliel ladeled soup into the bowl of each slave, and each of them took a biscuit. When Bandas got his turn, he sadly knew that someone would take his spot on the mat, but that was okay, because they always saved a spot for his mother, and he knew that he could squeeze in beside her.

They all sat on the mats and picked roots and meat out of their bowls with their fingers until nothing was left but broth. They then drank the broth and cleaned their bowls with the biscuits. Some of the men started to banter with each other. They tried to pester Telumah, but he just smiled and gave no response. Perus, Bandas's other brother, was around as well, but he was at that awkward age where he did not want to be too close to his mother but was not accepted as an adult. He hung around the periphery of the firepit area and talked to some of the other kids.