The Songs of Strife

37 CELEBRATION

The slave, a young lady, bowed as she took the jug from Barboza's hands. The man replied with a smile, eyes scanning every inch of the slave's lithe body. He bit his own lips as the servant went her way to fetch another drink for them.

***

The foreigners were getting rowdier by the jug but the uripon, the slaves that tended them could not do anything but follow their whims. It was what their Lord Humabara wanted- for all of the pale men to drown in wine and excess. The uripon avoided the boisterous men. She awkwardly snaked between them to reached the dim kitchen on the other side of the room. And as she opened the curtains to find another jug of basi someone in the darkness grabbed her hands and covered her mouth.

"Shhhh...don't shout."

The slave nodded, eyes wide in shock. The man's voice was familiar.

"This won't be long."

The slave gave another more courteous nod. She'd heard of the voice countless of times before. As the scant light covered the man's face, she bowed her head. "Master, pardon me–"

"Nahhh... no more pleasantries. Here, give this to our guest," he said after a satisfied snort. The man in the shadows gave her a couple of clay jugs filled to the brim. "And when your done. I want you to leave us alone."

"Where will I go master?"

"To my house. Tell my wife to proceed to Bo-ol as planned, tell her I'll follow after I settle things here. Tell her to wait there for me. My cousin will gladly welcome the family there."

The slave nodded as she place the jugs on a tray. "Yes, master Humabara."

A few minutes passed when the servant exited from the kitchen and refilled every crew man's drink. Then, she made her way to Barboza. The man stood at the far end of the hall now, eyeing her every move like a hawk to a prey. Upon reaching the leader of the pale men, the drunk captain snatched a clay jug from her and took a drink, passing the rest of the tray to his thirsty men.

"What took you so long?" He took another drink, sloshing it inside his mouth.

The servant only bowed in reply. She didn't understand any word. Nor did she realised the things that are about to happen. Barboza wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "Now, that... was a good drink," he said as he grabbed the servant by the waste, embracing the poor woman like a jungle python.

"Spare me, please," pleaded the slave to the pale captain. But it only came out as gibberish to the foreigner.

Barboza leaned closer to the slave, their faces inches from each other. "Been watching you...I know your kind. First, you'll try to resist. Do your best to reject me and then...You'll eventually give in."

His men laughed in vile satisfaction.

"Should we try it... to find out?" He grabbed the slave by the hair, making the girl cry in fright. With his other hand he tore a piece of the slave's 'malong'.

He was about to do something regretful and abhorrent to the slave but a sharp pain in his gut stopped him in his tracks. He suddenly felt dizzy as though the world suddenly tilted on its side for no apparent reason. He tried to shake it off and blame the natives' hard liquor but his vision turned blurry. It was not the typical buzz he'd felt after drinking too hard before. A familiar nauseous sensation came upon him. In that moment, he realised something was off. He turned to his men and they weren't looking good too. A couple of them were already vomiting their guts out on the bamboo floor, faces covered in grim pallor.

"Ah, fuck," Barboza said as he realised what was happening. "No, not like this."

Barboza pried the clay jug from one of his crewmen's hand and gave it a sniff. He tried to speak again but instead he collapsed on the floor. His men followed his led soon after. The chest pain, nausea and numbness were all signs pointing to one thing. Poison. Their drink was spiked with poison, Barboza realised. So, he tried to turn to his side. He didn't want to choke on his own puke. Barboza calmed himself down but panic already settled in his heart as his men fell like flies, faces slowly turning purple red. All of them wearing masks of deep pain. Barboza shoved a finger inside his throat. He had to do something about it but his limbs were numb already as the mild paralysis settled in. It was going to be a slow painful death for him. He cursed. He could feel defeat creeping in as he shoved three of his fingers straight down his throat. And as he did he heard heavy foot steps from the kitchen. Coming towards him...