Hannibal's Elephant Girl Chapter 9

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Hannibal’s Elephant Girl


by

Ariion Kathleen Brindley



Chapter Nine

The four soldiers stumbled to a table and fell onto the benches. They knocked over a lamp and the flaming oil spread quickly along the table, starting a small fire and setting them off in a fit of laughter. Jabnet backed away and I did too, not knowing what to do.

Yzebel removed her ragged apron and smothered the flames. The men applauded her ingenious trick and then pounded the table for food and drink.

Jabnet replaced the overturned lamp and gave them the last three bowls of food. By the time I took an empty bowl to the table for the fourth man to share some of the food, they had already gobbled up what should have been our supper.

“Look out,” shouted the man I had recognized. “The ugly Elephant Girl will lay us low like she does all the beasts of the forest.”

His friends found this remark very witty and apparently Jabnet thought it was funny also, because he laughed behind my back. The loudmouth soldier was the same one who had made fun of me when Obolus pulled me from the river. His beady gray eyes were set too close to a twisted nose and his few remaining teeth were crooked, broken and yellow. His hair resembled a tangled mess of dead weeds and I wondered why it wasn’t red like his scraggly beard. I didn’t like him or his friends and wished he wouldn’t call me Elephant Girl.

I knew it would have been wiser for me to turn away, but instead I gave him my meanest look. He continued to laugh at me.

“Uh-oh,” said one of the other soldiers. The three middle fingers of his left hand had been chopped off, leaving only his thumb and little finger which he used like a crab. “Be careful, Sakul, she gives you the evil eye.” He clicked his crab fingers at me.

More laughter. I stood so close to Sakul that his foul odor made me sick. He could easily reach out and slap me or knock me down with his fist, just like the fat man had done to Tin Tin Ban Sunia. But then I could also hit him or scratch his face. And maybe I would if he didn’t shut up. My hands were clenched so tight I felt my fingernails cut into my palms.

“Liada!” Yzebel called from the hearth. “Come help me.”

I stared into his weasel eyes, realizing they were shallow and rheumy, just like his addled brain.

I turned away and one of other men said, “You barely escaped with your life, Sakul.”

“Slice those last two melons for them,” Yzebel said when I got to the hearth. “And I’ll see if I can cut a little more meat from the bones of this poor pig.”

I picked up a knife from the hearth. “We’re not giving them any wine. They’ve had enough.”

Jabnet snickered and turned away. I watched him take a fresh jug of raisin wine and four drinking bowls to the men.

I shoved my knife into a fat melon to slice it open. After scooping out the seeds and throwing them in the dirt, I stabbed another one.

“Liada,” Yzebel said in a low voice.

I glanced at her.

“I believe those melons are already dead.” She gave me a wink.

Yes, I had made a mess of them. I took the four yellow halves to the table, hacked them into pieces and tossed them in the space between the men. They seemed to enjoy being fed like animals, competing with each other to see who could make the most disgusting noises. Perhaps a trough on the ground would better suit their eating habits.

“There’s not much left, boys,” Yzebel said when she picked up slices of the roasted pig with her fingers and dropped the meat in their bowls. “You’ve come a bit late for supper.”

When she bent over the end of the table to reach for a bowl, Sakul put his hand on her side. “Your fine food is not the only thing that feeds a man’s appetite.”

Yzebel straightened up and I thought she drew her hand back to slap him, but she only tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. To my surprise, she gave him a sweet smile.

“Sakul,” Yzebel said. “I thought your only enjoyment was in throwing the javelin and plundering defenseless villages.”

Two of his comrades burst into laughter and after a moment the crab-handed one caught on and joined them in the hilarity, waving his deformed hand as if grabbing for flies in the air.

“Throwing the javelin is fine,” Sakul said, “but that’s not my only talent.”

This brought mumbles of admiration from his fellow soldiers and then snorting laughter.

I saw nothing funny in his remark. I glanced at Jabnet when he laughed along with the drunken men, apparently pretending to understand the adults’ banter.

“Liada,” Yzebel said. “Bring these fine shaft-men a loaf of bread.” She smiled once more at Sakul and then left them to their meal.

When I dropped the bread on their table, Sakul grabbed my wrist and twisted it, forcing me to my knees. I clenched my teeth and stared up at him, refusing to cry out.

“Even an ignorant slave girl knows enough to cut a man’s bread,” he snarled. “I should break your—”

“Enough, Sakul!” Yzebel hurried back to the table. “Let go of her.”

Sakul turned to look at Yzebel. She glared at him while standing close. Her right hand was out of sight behind him. After a moment he grinned and released my wrist, shoving me backward into the dirt.

“Do you know of Tashid and Glotel?” Yzebel asked him.

I stood up, rubbing my wrist behind my back. I stepped over next to Yzebel.

“Yes,” Sakul said, “I know those two melon-heads.” He kept his eyes on me. “They’re no-account arrow slingers from the second troop.”

“And where do they take their supper?”

“At Soja’s tables, I suppose.”

“What does Soja give them to eat?” Yzebel asked.

“Dried meat of horse and stale bread.” Sakul glanced down at his bowl of tender roast piglet. “The same everyone gets when they go to her barnyard tables.”

“Does she ever give them lamb stew?”

“No.”

“And what to drink?”

“That awful fig vinegar she calls wine.”

“Yes,” Yzebel said. “Those two slingers are no longer welcome at my tables because they are quarrelsome, mean and foulmouthed. Your name too could be added to the list if you once again lay hands on my children or treat them like slaves.”

He mumbled something and took a drink of his wine.

“You may treat me as you please, but do not touch my children,” she said, placing her free hand on my shoulder. “Do you understand me, Sakul?”

He thumped his empty drinking bowl on the table and picked up the loaf of bread. “Of course.” He handed the loaf to me. “Now, will the darling little Elephant Girl please cut my bread?”

His tone was a bit too sweet, but I took the loaf and turned to go get a knife.

Yzebel stopped me. “Here,” she said, handing me the knife she had held at Sakul’s back.

His eyes widened at the sight of the knife coming from behind him, but then he laughed and slapped the table, bouncing the bowls and lamp on the wooden planks. “Yzebel!” he shouted. “You must join me on our next battlefield. We could have a fine time out there together.”

“Yes, Sakul,” she said. “As soon as you learn to cook, I shall learn to kill people.”

This struck the men as funny, but I didn’t think she meant it to be a joke.

Yzebel went back to the hearth and I began cleaning tables, staying away from the men.

When Sakul called for another bowl along with a burning ember from the fire, I glanced at Yzebel and she nodded for me to do it. I used a stick to work a glowing coal from the fire and into the bowl, wondering what he was up to. I took it to the end of the table and set it down, scooting it over toward Sakul. He gave me his wolfish grin and then turned his attention to the bowl.

He untied a pouch from his belt and took out a handful of dried leaves. These he crumbed into the bowl over the hot ember while his friends watched with growing interest. He raised the bowl to his lips and blew gently until a thick gray smoke wafted into the air. Sakul inhaled deeply of the smoke and closed his eyes. After holding his breath for a moment, he opened his eyes and passed the bowl across the table to one of his pals. The other man repeated the ritual and then the third one held his hand out for the bowl.

I got a whiff of the smoke and it smelled like a dead animal. I felt my stomach roll and I had to get away. I went back to cleaning tables while the men giggled and laughed at every foolish thing each one of them said.

I endured the men’s boisterous racket until the food and wine ran out. Finally they rose from the table and staggered away. I heard Sakul say something about paying a visit to Lotaz. His three friends agreed with enthusiasm.

After the sound of their voices died away down the trail, Yzebel went into the tent and I collected the items the four men left in payment for their supper. It wasn’t much, a small silver coin, a gold chain with a dangling blue stone and three copper coins. I added them to the rest of the night’s earnings on the first table.

“Look what I have,” Yzebel said when she came out of the tent.

I turned and my eyes widened at the sight. “You saved a loaf of bread.”

“Yes,” Yzebel said with a smile. “Just like you did last night.”

We enjoyed eating our bread in peace while sorting through the items left on the tables.

“What was that awful stuff Sakul burned in his bowl,” I asked Yzebel.

“Leaves of the hemp plant. The smoke makes men drunker than the wine does.”

“It made me sick.”

Jabnet pointed his chin toward me and said to Yzebel, “She is not your children.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant. Then I remembered Yzebel telling Sakul to keep his hands off her children.

Yzebel wrinkled her brow and studied her son’s face for a moment. “She’s mine if she wants to be.” She turned, giving me a wink.

I grinned and nodded, taking another bite of my bread. Jabnet could have the whole pile of coins and jewelry for all I cared. Yzebel had just given me something much more valuable.

We finished off our meager supper and then the moody Jabnet went to bed without even saying good-night to his mother.

“Who left this?” Yzebel held up a piece of jewelry for me to see.

“Sakul.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Bring the lamp closer. I want to see something.”

I scooted the lamp over toward Yzebel and she dangled the gold chain with a small blue stone in front of the flame. She smiled and slowly moved it around so that it came between me and the flickering light.

“Yzebel!” I cried, “A star!”

She smiled.

“A perfect star,” I said, counting with my finger. “With six points going out like this.” With the light passing through it, the pale blue stone became a brilliant blue-green, like water and sky mixed together. “It’s a star sapphire, from the faraway East, the same lands where the spices come from. This is a very valuable stone.”

Yzebel stared at me, obviously surprised by my words. I glanced from her to the stone and back again.

“How in the world do you know that?” she asked, turning her attention back to the sapphire.

I shrugged and shook my head. “I have no idea. It just came out of my mouth by itself.”

“One thing for sure, you’ve seen a stone like this before.”

“Yes, but where?”

“You know the stone by name, where it came from and something about its value.”

I nodded, but I was mystified. “That ox-head Sakul, he didn’t even know what he had.”

Yzebel gave me a raised eyebrow. “You don’t think so?”

“I doubt he knows a sapphire from a pig’s knuckle. He thought he left us a worthless trinket.”

“Perhaps he gave us his most valuable possession.”

I gave Yzebel a raised eyebrow, making her laugh.

“Tomorrow,” she said, “we’ll go to Bostar and see what he thinks of it.”

“Yes, he might give us twenty loaves for that sapphire.”

“Ha! If it’s a star sapphire like you say, he might trade us his whole bakery for it. Ovens, tables, oxcart, tent and all.”

“Really?” I thought about that for a moment. “Then we could bake our own bread and trade the loaves for cotton.”

“Cotton? Why cotton?”

“So we could spin it into yarn.”

“I know nothing of spinning yarn. Do you?”

“I could learn.”

“Let’s find out what this little stone is worth before we go baking bread and spinning yarns.”

##

That night, I waited to be sure Yzebel slept soundly before I slipped away.

When I came to the slave girl’s tent, the basket of cotton and her spinning tool were gone. I didn’t know what to make of it, good or bad, but something had happened since I passed by with my load of bread before sunset.

It took only a moment for me to decide what to do. I turned and ran along the trail leading up the side of Stonebreak Hill and into the woods. I followed the way Tin Tin Ban Sunia and I had taken with the basket of yarn, finally coming to the path leading off to the solitary hut where the hairy fat man lived.

The moonlight cast black shadows along the path. I ran to one of the trees and pressed myself to the trunk, hiding there to watch the hut. The only sounds I heard were a dog barking somewhere below in the main camp and my breath coming in short bursts. Nothing moved anywhere. I ran to another tree closer to the front door and remained perfectly still, listening. Nothing, not a sound from within.

I ran to the side of the hut and crept up to a window, but it was shuttered. After a moment I made my way to the back of the hut and found another window with the shutters open. I eased up to the edge of the window to peek inside. It was pitch dark. I ducked under the window to look in from the other side, but still saw nothing. I flattened myself against the wall and listened. There came a faint sound like heavy breathing, but maybe I heard only my own ragged breath and pounding heart.

Had I been braver, I would have slipped inside and tried to find Tin Tin Ban Sunia in the dark, but I might have only succeeded in getting her beat up again.

Running from one tree shadow to the next, I reached the trail and walked back down to the camp with a heavy heart.

##

On Elephant Row I found Obolus munching hay in the moonlight.

“Hello Obolus,” I said.

He seemed not to notice me as he reached for more hay. His being at ease with me close by was a good sign. And I knew what would please him.

“I’ll be right back.” I glanced up and down the trail to be sure no one was around and then ran to get a huge green-striped melon I had noticed when I came down Elephant Row. It was so big I could hardly carry it.

When I returned to Obolus he raised his trunk and opened his mouth, but the melon was too heavy for me to lift up to him. I thought of dropping it on the ground to burst it open and give him a piece at a time, but then he would lose some of the juices he liked so much. I lifted the melon and this time he curled his trunk under it, and together we shoved it in his mouth. He tilted his head back, crushing the melon like a big egg.

After finishing off the melon, he brushed his trunk against me, almost knocking me over.

“Obolus,” I said, laughing. “You better not be pushing me around.”

I grabbed his tusk with both hands, pulling as hard as I could. He jerked his head up, lifting me high off the ground. I shrieked with laughter and he gently lowered me to the ground.

“I wish I could climb on top of your head and ride on your back the way the mahouts do.” I patted the side of his face. “And why aren’t you sleeping? It’s very late you know.”

When he reached for more hay, I went around to the other side of his haystack and picked up a brick-like object. “What is this, Obolus?” I held it so he could see it. It was some sort of compressed block containing carrots, dates and olives, along with other green and yellow vegetables.

Obolus dropped his hay and reached for the brick. He put it in his mouth, crunched it up and swallowed.

“Well, I hope that was something you’re supposed to eat.”

Whatever that brick was, it seemed to satisfy his hunger because he knelt down on his front knees, lowered his hindquarters to the ground and carefully rolled over to his side.

“Now I see you’re finally going to get some rest.” I grabbed an armload of hay and dropped it on the ground by his chest. He curled his trunk into the hay. “No!” I pulled his trunk away. “That’s my bed you’re trying to eat.”

I spread the hay out and crawled into it, laying my head on his coiled trunk. He heaved a great sigh and I knew he would soon be asleep. I turned to my side and closed my eyes.

Sometime later that night I was startled awake—someone moved in the hay beside me.







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