Trinidad
August 1812
At sunset when my journey begins
We're in our bedroom behind closed doors. The mosquitoes are singing and the shadows are long and dense against the walls. The evening lamps and candles have just been lit and dinner is being brought in and laid out on the table downstairs.
He has his fingers curled around my bouffant and he's digging into my scalp and tightening his grip. He's forcing my neck backward and scowling at me with clenched teeth. I grab on to his wrist with both hands to lessen the pain but he takes that as an affront and throws me to the floor and spits on me.
But I'm determined not to cry or scream. He might be an animal but I'm still a lady. And there's just one thing I need to know from him.
"Pourquoi Monsieur? Why do this when I've told you? The letter came today. She's ill and I need to visit her. You would deny me that sir?"
His boot comes down against my chest and it becomes hard to breathe but my ears work just fine. I hear him shouting above me.
"This is folly! You're abandoning me Angelique! First you lose my child in that slack womb of yours and now you're running away like a base little quasheeba of the fields. How dare you run away from me? How dare you shame me? You should be at my side woman. You should be in my bed doing your utmost to give me a son. Instead you chose to run off to your mother's house after all I've given you!"
He removes the boot and starts pacing the floor. He is a gaged beast now. He's flinging his fists at nothing. I sit up and rub the sore place above my breasts where his foot fell.
"Run away Monsieur? You should know more about that than I for you are an interloper in this land. This island used to belong to the Spaniards and then Chacon refused to fight for it. He even refused help from Guadeloupe. So now? This country belongs to England. And so how did you come to be here Frenchman? Didn't you and your many Royalists friends run away from the French Revolution to this island more than 20 years ago? Oui?
And if you are convinced that I am trying to get away from you then you may show me your proof. Because what I see before me is a man who commands the riches of land and sugar yet cannot survive one night without his wife. Had I known you were so fragile I might not have chosen to be your lady."
He calms his tantrum and pauses to think on my statement. I use the opportunity to stand and straighten my dress.
"One night you say Madame? Perhaps it is a misunderstanding then."
"Tonight and whenever she has need of me. She is dying sir, and she is not aware that her grandchild is dead. A civil gentleman would allow his wife to enlighten and console her. Do I have your leave to depart?"
"Oui. But be quick before I reconsider."
No other warning is necessary. I chose a white hooded cloak to cover a dress that flows wide from beneath my breasts and is free of adornments. Lace and ribbons are useless where I'm going and only Tibby, Granny and myself know the truth of it.
Tibby helps me pack a coarse burlap sack containing cooked salted provisions, fruit and wine skins full of water. She hides it under the seat of Mr. Witmoore's coach when he rides in but he doesn't find that suspicious.
Only my plain rough cotton-spun dress and cloak makes his eye tinker. He twirls at his grey mustache and tips his top hat in response. He is confused. He has seen me don the loveliest outfits to enter the city and never this drab costume. But he says nothing. Perhaps he would rather bite his tongue or assume that I'm in mourning for the child that came but never was.
Whatever his thoughts I'm content with his discretion. I walk to the front of the Big House and onto the gravel and climb into the coach on my own. That's when I receive a shock. Tibby is sitting beside me and I cannot imagine her audacity.
"What are you doing enfant? I did not request your company on this trip. Kindly get out."
But she locks me with her frightened eyes and says a word I have never heard from her before."
"No."
"Excusez moi?"
"Souple Madame. Leh meh stay. Ah could do as yuh say buh den who goin ter bring de evidence about de visit we had wit yuh nice mama in de Port of Spain? Somebody ha ter say how she cry fer so but oh she feel better when we hold her and say comfortin thing to her. An how three ah we sit down and sew together an talk bout ole times an ting.
Not so Madame? I go come back an tell Kina bout everything we do so dat everybody could ketch de story includin de yellow hair big man heself."
I'm frozen there for a minute between appreciation and disgust and I cannot resist the need to tell her about her nature.
"Girl I took you for a baleful gossip but in truth you are also a dangerous conceited fabler with hell's forked tongue in your head. Indeed you are the liar to cheat all liars."
"Granny say I special Madame."
"Oh! That you are Tibby."
I pay Mr. Witmoore extra coin for our rouse. His coach clears the plantation and he starts taking us downhill just as the sun dips. The sky is orange around us and the woods are darkening and awaking with the music of insects.
Tibby and I get off midway into the descent that would have taken us into the valley. We collect our sack and Mr. Witmoore thinks we are crazy but he is grateful for the pay so he's helpful. He gives us lanterns from his ride and a warning.
"Be careful Madame. I don't pretend to understand your intensions. I don't know what would make a well-bred mistress of a woman such as yourself leave the comfort of her husband's home for the bush. But it's not safe.
Thieves and rebels hide in there. Rough men and untamed nature. Snakes and snake-like behavior. So I'm frightened for you Mrs. You stay on the dirt track. And when the track disappears just pray."
"Bonsoir Mr. Witmoore and merci." I say this to him as I lead Tibby into the darkness.
His horses stamp and nay on the steep road as he calls out after us.
"Put out the lanterns if you hear someone coming!"
Then he rides out and my heart begins to tremble so early in the journey. We are following a thin dirt track and we can no longer see what's under our shoes by light of evening. The lanterns tell us these are dry leaves and rocks.
We hear the crunch, feel the pebbles and avoid the larger outcroppings. Vines dangle like unruly ropes overhead and fat rotund branches multiply and block out the stars. This is pure pitch worse than closing ones eyes or going blind and I wonder where I would be without Mr. Witmoore's wisdom in the form of these coach lights that we've borrowed.
I sense a gentle hill on the left of us or I remember one being there. The right side of the track is the exact opposite. That is a neck-break plunge hidden by bamboo and other plentiful foliage and spectacular trees larger than the Big House and older than my grandmother. Trees destined to be firewood one day.
I stop near one of them after we are a half-mile in.
"What happen Madame? Yuh tired."
I lift the lantern to trace the sentinel's progress from earth to heaven. The roots start somewhere in the drop and the trunk ascends above the track leaning into it with sturdy branches splaying far into the alpine.
"Oui. This one. Give me the sack and climb Tibby. This will be your post. You will wait here for me till midnight."
She doesn't protest the decision. She wasn't eager to follow me into the depths of the forest to begin with. She only wanted to come as far as necessary to protect me from Monsieur's anger. She lies for me yes, but she is not ready to die on the same account. I understand this and I will never ask her to throw away her life for my ambitions.
I watch her take to the trunk from where it meets the path and pull her self up bit by bit to the higher branches. I'm pleased to see that she is agile and she has protected herself against the dew with long sleeves and men's pants and boots worn under her skirts. Her only trouble is with the lantern that is awkward to climb with.
"Put it out and throw it." I tell her.
Once she does that it is easy for her to settle herself in a strong perch shaded by verdant parasite plants. I am satisfied that it is wide enough to sleep in and that no one will find her there once she stays quiet. If there are no belly-crawlers in that tree with her then she is safe.
I move to pick up her fallen lantern and hide it in the undergrowth on the left. When that is done I wave to her and speak my last instructions.
"Keep your mouth shut Tibby. No screaming. Oui? Just be invisible no matter what you see or hear. And if I do not return by midnight tell them I am dead."
______________________
Bonsai plants and stained glass lamps made the dark wood and ebon furnishings of the restaurant seem soft and romantic. The hushed chatter of customers wrapping up their meals, their restrained laughter and the chink of their cutlery and their requests for more of everything completed the ambience.
The mood unfolded into the wood floors area near the hostess's stained booth and on through the hall where Stephanie sat on an elegant latticework bench while waiting for Pete.
When she felt him come up from behind, her body became heated. She almost swooned as his hands moved along her shoulders and his warm lips touched that same spot. She realized that she was in some sort of misty daze and she inclined her neck and cooed for him. It felt almost as though their bodies were made for each other.
She smiled sweetly and opened herself to his wiles even hoping his kisses might reach the sexy flesh under her earlobes. She didn't care that they were in the lobby waiting to collect their dessert containers and be on their way.
There was only one place this interaction was going in any instance and it would be between her sheets. Social taboos be damned, she wanted Pete and she wanted him tonight, her libido demanded that for desert no the food.
"Well don't just linger behind me come here and take my lipstick off with your tongue."
He did. That's when she flinched and jumped up from the bench because this man wasn't Pete at all! The revulsion and fear that she felt turned her heart to a mixture of adrenaline and thunder and yet she almost feel compelled to the stranger.
"Who the hell are you and how dare you touch me you fucking sicko!"
He stood there with a casual smile and nonchalant visage. His suit fit him to exquisite perfection and he had an appearance that could rival Pete's any day. He was tastefully handsome in his darker skin, shorter hair and greater height. If she wasn't so terrified she might even say that he had suave, so much so that the restaurant staff didn't try to intervene. They looked the other way, ignoring her outburst. Then it flashed, a silver pendant shaped like a spider she recognized.
"Stephanie!" It was Pete coming her way from the men's room.
"Pete! This stranger just attacked me."
When she turned her head there was no one there.
Pete rushed to her and hugged her.
"Who? Who tried to hurt you?"
"But the guy was right there. He put his hands on me he..."
She frowned. This was useless. Whatever was going on it wasn't tangible. If reading Angelique's diary had taught her anything it was that some events were simply based in another world. And that man came to her from that other place or time.
That was a ridiculous notion yet it resounded with her as being true and the only way to discover his identity would be to continue with Angelique's pages. She was going home to do that now. This wouldn't be a night of lovemaking; instead it would be a night of finding the truth.
Trinidad
August 1812
Finding Anansi
The worst is happening. The dirt track is whittling to bramble and wildness and I am upset with myself for not thinking to bring a cutlass with me. A long stick that I find becomes my only defense against the unknown.
I tie the sack to my waist and I knot my dress in the middle. I beat at the foliage as I go. The light is in one hand and my determination is in the other as I make my holy ruckus. I hear anxious birds scattering and there are insects screaming at this rude awakening I am giving them. It is loud and ill advised and I can only hope that I am alone and not sharing these woods with ruffians.
I am scared of that. I am scared of everything, like accidentally stepping off of a cliff or encountering a vile beast. But I try not to dwell on it. The only thing I can do is keep sweating and enduring the feel of Stinging Nettle against the exposed parts of my lower legs. I struggle with that and the many small bugs diving underneath the hood of my cloak due to the beacon I hold.
Then there's my direction to think about. By my estimation I am going directly to Mia as Granny described it. Yet what do I know? It is easy to get lost in the virgin forests and better yet at night. For instance I feel as though I've been pushing on for miles and that this dark greenery is fighting me as if no human being has ever been inside it. That is probably the case since so much of this area remains unexplored.
Finally, I can go no more. I stoop near a fallen log and I bring out a water filled wineskin and put the spigot to my lips. It is a healing fount because my exertion has parched me on the inside yet the atmosphere around me is cold. And I know I am lost.
My choice is to go back or to keep beating through this labyrinth for days with everyone believing that I am dead. Common sense tells me I should return, that any sensible person would. Then I think about my child. I see her face before me in memory, this daughter of mine that those hellish Duenne have stolen away. This is when I know I am going to continue. I must do this, whatever it takes. But I lean against the log to give myself a moment.
It shifts and I move away quickly. It groans and comes loose from whatever old natural restraints that are keeping it in place. I stand and lift the light and I watch it tumble downhill clearing away the flora as it rolls. I smile. At least I am redeemed from the stress of having to whack the bushes. I look down to gage a place to put my feet and that's when I see it. The rolling log has revealed a hunter's trail.
Perhaps only one man made this trail. Perhaps it is Anansi. I follow it further and further down with the hope in my heart. The land begins to flatten out as I come to the place where the log has stopped. I hear the sound of falling water in this spot. I feel the temperature dropping and my breath begins to mist.
There is nothing but darkness ahead of me and even the lantern cannot penetrate what lies beyond.
Then I begin to shiver from both coldness and uncertainty. I want to go on but there is no direction, no bushes to whack at, nothing to see. I could very well be stepping off into a pit!
"Be brave belle Angelique. Beautiful angel child."
The voice is a dramatic ethereal echo, a cultured tenor very deep and dipped in honey. To my ears it doesn't sound like a runaway slave or servant of any kind.
"How do you know my name? Who are you? Who's there? Show yourself!"
"I only show myself to the bold, the wildly, the dexterous. Which are you belle Angelique? Why don't you step forward if you dare?"
Suddenly the lantern goes out at the same moment that a golden shimmer appears near my toes. The land ends there and nothingness begins. Yet there is something attached to this cliff. At first I think it is a rope but no rope that I have seen could be this smooth. It is more like a large string made of shinning silk.
Soon more strings appear at my feet forming a close-knit pattern leading down. It is a ladder of silk. I am shocked to see it and I move back with my heart galloping within me.
"This place is bewitched!"
I drop the useless lantern and the stick and I start walking backward.
"Oh no belle Angelique you are the one who's bewitched. Isn't that why you've come? And would you leave without the answers? Why not accept that you are enchanted and just step forward?"
I am trying my best to calm my ragged breath. When I do I speak into the empty night.
"Monsieur are you the one they call Anansi?"
"Oui."
"And what will happen to me if I walk onto your magical ladder?"
"See for yourself. And is it really a ladder Madame?"
I go to the edge to look again. The pattern is bigger and wider now and I recognize it because I've seen it a thousand times before. It is a spider's web, a giant one! It looks impossible to cross but if I do not try then my effort so far is for naught and I must return home to my doom.
What am I to do? Many seconds tick on before my trembling slipper touches the first thread. I discover that it is strong in the most remarkable way. Magnificent! I laugh to myself and put my two feet upon it. I hear the water again and I know that I'm high above the waterfall.
I hear Anansi's bright laughter as well.
"Yes! That's it! More ma cher Angelique, more!"
My confidence tells me I can and I proceed down and across the giant spider's web with grace. I go until I touch the solid land around the falls. I turn to look at it and a disappointment comes over me. I see only an inky pond, damp shadows, mysterious rocks and shady bushes. Perhaps it is lovely in the daytime.
"Ah! Oui. It is. Bienvenue." He says.
He is kissing my hand and his lips are warm. His grip is gentle. It makes me recall a memory of being held with tenderness and passion. The memory is dusty, from a year when I first met my Monsieur and he loved me with all his heart. But those days are finished.
I am excited to see Anansi's face and I wait until he is done with his bowing and he is positioned to his full height. And what a gorgeous African fellow I say to myself when we stare at each other. I have never seen his brethren with such etched allure and vibrant eyes and smile, and I can only describe his likeness as being sophisticated and relaxed. He is also fairly rugged with splendid muscles, being naked down to the waist and wearing shabby pants and bared feet.
He could indeed be a runaway but his hair is too neat and his language too flawless. And how did he make the giant spider web? I realize that I have questions for him, many more than I came to ask. But first he weaves a string of compliments for me.
"Ah! Belle femme. Beux yeux. Madame, you are a glorious dawn blooming, luscious and resplendent. I would say that your husband is quite fortunate. I would even say that I am envious of him."
"Maybe you should be Monsieur Anansi. Maybe my mari no longer appreciates what he has."
"A pity." He says.
He offers his arm in the gentlemanly manner and I take it, hooking my wrist above his elbow. We begin walking. We are strolling through neat rows of planted corn, vegetables and provisions.
"So you are a farmer then."
"When it suits me. And you are a Planter's wife though most of society would call you a mulatto mistress or a glorified whore. You have lost your first child to the Duennes and her soul is theirs now."
His words trouble me and I pull away from him.
"How is it that you know so much about me and I so little about you sir?"
Now he is casual with me. He makes a half smile and invites me to sit on a rock with a flattened top that I have not noticed before. I approach with suspicion and I try to keep a respectable distance from him though the seating is intimate, for this rock is carved by nature for two lovers.
"Do not be afraid. This is the story of you and I. This is the island that made me and I am one of the magical creatures that made this island called Trinidad. I am weaver, connector, conjuror and trickster wrought from different shores but bound to here now.
There are elder gods afoot here, and their song made a secret spirit land that exists within this physical one, a place that only the sorcerer's ear can hear and the seer's eye can see. In this secret spirit land true magic came into being and many of us displaced spirits are now bound here. The Duennes and the LaDiablesse, the Soucouyant, the Shape Shifter, the water spirits and forest guardians and others. They are all real, not myths, not stories...I am very real.
But the average man without sorcerer's powers is not supposed to know this because if he does he becomes fodder. The magical creatures of this realm will be drawn to him and they will feed on him and steal his living human soul. So it is ignorance and disbelief that closes the veil and protects you.
One of your ancestors opened the veil between this world and ours and viewed the magic first hand and dabbled with it. This is why you are vulnerable to spirits. This is why of all the women on your plantation who were with child, the Duennes saw only you and stole your daughter."
My tears drip down my face hot and shameless and I cannot stop the tide. He takes a pristine handkerchief out of his pocket and offers it to me.
"Do not cry my sweet Angelique. If you seek out the forest protector Papa Bois you can reverse the calamity that follows your family line."
His statement gives me some hope. I sniffle and I dab at my tears to remove them.
"This Papa Bois can help? Oui? How do I find him Monsieur Anansi?"
"Ah! That Madame...is difficult. There is only one being that knows his true location."
"Tell me. Sil vous plait."
"In order to find him you must gain pieces of a riddle from a LaDiablesse. This will set you on your way to him."
I think on this for long moments while he hums a little tune and keeps holding my hand and half-smiling in that pleasant easy manner that he has. This is when I remember what Granny said to me. That he is not to be trusted.
"And how do I know you are not lying Monsieur? You say you are a magical creature yet you seem like a typical man to me, albeit an uncommonly handsome one."
His smile brightens to pure hubris as he catches the hidden compliment in my words.
"So my magical spider's web is not proof enough?"
"No."
"Well kiss me then my angel."
The request is sensual and his voice carries the intent to perfection. But he knows that I am married and I assume that he is just teasing until I feel his lips locked to mine and I feel his hands groping at my waist. My body gives in to his even against my wishes. I am kindling and he is the flame. My heart thumps and rejoices and my eyes are closed and I am pouring myself into this hot unexpected kiss. It is such palpable longing on my part but then it disappears as suddenly as it came.
I open my eyes to see a group of eight eyes staring into mine. A scream bursts forth from my throat and echoes through the dark hills. I leap up from the stone seat and I run. When I chance a look behind, a hairy eight-legged man-sized spider is crawling after me! I scream some more, lifting my dress and rushing through the corn toward the waterfall.
I bump into Anansi in the form of a man before I can reach the water. He throws his arms around me to ease my racing heart.
"Shhh. Hush now belle Angelique. You asked to see my true self and so I revealed it to you. Don't tremble so my sweet."
"Unhand me Monsieur. And please do not kiss me again."
He separates himself from me with tenderness but I know that he hasn't declared himself to be a trickster for nothing. So, I decide for myself that I will not be tricked.
"What do you want? Tell me the truth. You would not be this nice to me or give me the means to find Papa Bois unless you wanted something."
Now he is grinning. I am the subject of his amusement yet he remembers to rest his hands on my shoulders and stare deep into me.
"Well well. Your suspicions are impressive Madame and I will answer you without delay. If I save your daughter's soul you must agree to pay me with fresh meat for the rest of your life and for as long as your line may last."
"So I must mark certain persons and offer them to you for human sacrifice."
"Oui my Lady. Tres bon. But rest easy, only the evil soul in flesh can sustain me"
"And if I disagree to these terms?"
He grabs my chin with the same manly tenderness he has displayed all night. He tilts my head toward him and that relaxed half-smile returns.
"Disagree Madame? Tut tut. If you do that I will kill you and eat you."
I shove his hands away as another decision forms in my head.
"Very well then. I agree on one condition."
"Name it."
"That should I need your help you must give it to me freely."
He cups my hands in his again and he's rubbing my palms as if he cannot resist touching me even though I've spurned his affections.
"We have a deal belle Angelique. And are you sure there's nothing else I can give you? Freely?"
I catch his meaning and I slap him hard in the face for his rude presumptions. He only grins all the more. Then I see him taking a silver ring off of his finger and pulling a rolled parchment from his pocket.
"Please. Take these."
I accept the tokens from him. I hold the ring between my thumb and forefinger to examine it better and I am not surprised to see that it is in the shape of a spider. I also accept the parchment and it goes into my sack.
"These items will tell you how to find the LaDiablesse." He says. "Now look around you."
He has disappeared. I am back on the dirt track where I started and I am standing under the tree where I left Tibby. I hear the clock on the church tower in the valley chime 12 times and so I know its midnight.
Tibby wakes and smiles down at me.
"Bonsou Madame Angelique. Is mornin. Leh we go home."
_________________
It was midnight. Stephanie closed the diary and saw the shadow slipping past the window in the living room.
"Anansi is that you?"
No answer, just a small spider dangling in front of her, suspending itself from high up in the rafters