Outlaw (14 page)

“We are the Tulim and these are our children!”

The air filled with a thousand voices in one accord. “
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa
!”

“We are the Tulim and our children love us because we are great!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

The children danced with me, their pied piper, as the crier immortalized us with his verse.

“We are the Tulim children and we love those who love us.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“We are the Tulim and we love the ones who love our children.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

Because the crier rattled his words so quickly I hardly knew what this poet was announcing until Lela told me later, but I was aware of the electric charge that elevated us all to the heavens in that moment.

“We are the Tulim and the spirits have sent us a woman who loves our children,” the caller cried.

The reply came, but with far fewer voices.

I knew immediately that something had shattered their enchantment. I glanced at Kirutu and saw that he stood with one hand raised.

As if overcome by a passing thunderstorm, the dancing ceased and the voices stilled.

Yellina giggled and hugged my legs, oblivious to the sudden change. One of the mothers called out and motioned her back. The children ran back to the circle, leaving me alone with the muhan once again.

Kirutu pointed at the crier. “You have said too much!” His voice echoed through the crowd. “This is no woman, but a wam who has come to steal our children.”

I turned to Wilam and saw that he was still fixated on me. I silently pleaded my case to him, willing that he save me from the monster by his side.

The crier lowered himself to one knee. “I spoke not of this wam, but of another woman,” he said.

“No.” Wilam lifted his hand, eyes still on me. He stepped out and scanned the massive ring of Tulim watching with fascination. “No, Unnanip did not sing of another woman but of this white woman among us. And yet only I can speak of the truth about this woman because she is under my care.”

The three gathered tribes—Warik, Impirum, and Karun—stood with brittle poise, aware of brewing conflict. Sawim, the shaman, drilled me with a terrible stare that brought a shiver to my arms. My eyes darted back to Wilam.

“Today we celebrate Kirutu’s wedding, and what better way than to bring him gifts?”

No response.

“Melino, my young wife who is wise beyond her years and as clever as a serpent, brought this woman as a gift for Kirutu. If she were only a wam to be traded like salt, I would never have allowed it. Kirutu is far too noble and respected to be given a mere wam at such an auspicious occasion.”

Agreement peppered the gathering. “
Aboo aret. Aboo aret
.”
Very true
.

I couldn’t tell if Wilam was destroying me or defending me, but he was clearly a consummate politician.

He lifted his finger and studied the Tulim. “But today I have seen as a child sees. I have heard the voice of our ancestors telling us to love our children. I have seen the smile of the littlest one and I see that my wife Melino was right. This white woman is indeed worthy to be in Kirutu’s presence.”

Wilam glanced at me, then faced Kirutu, who appeared unaffected by the words. If Wilam was truly offering him a gift, he obviously didn’t trust that gift.

Wilam nodded at his brother. “Accept this gift of song and dance from me, your brother by blood.” He indicated me with his hand. “As she has drawn the love of many children, may your new wife draw your love and bear you many children.”

Kirutu glared at him. “I will accept your gift and take this woman.”

“No, Kirutu. The white woman is mine. But her song and her dance are from the spirits, a great gift for this great day.”

For a moment Kirutu did not react. But as understanding of Wilam’s calculated defiance settled into his mind, his eyes darkened. Such bitterness I had never witnessed on a man’s face.

He ripped the beak from the twine around his neck and threw it to the ground. The jungle went still.

“You defile me and all that is sacred,” he snarled.

He jerked his head to his right and stared at the shaman, Sawim.

“Speak what is true for all to hear.”

Sawim’s eyes were still on me, unwavering. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“The blood of the Tulim will be on Wilam’s hands,” he said in a low, rasping voice.

With that single announcement my fate was sealed, but so was Wilam’s. He’d staked his claim. To yield now, even at Sawim’s declaration, would leave him with a terrible deficit in the people’s eyes. What kind of leader made a claim only to retreat when that claim was threatened?

Certainly not a leader worthy of ruling the Tulim valley.

I saw all of this written on their faces as Kirutu and Wilam faced off, two brothers vying for power.

“Wilam.”

It was Melino. She was staring up the slope to my left, north.

“Wilam!”

There on the hill stood the same man who’d once come to my aid. He was too far away to recognize by face, but his casual stance, leaning on that spear, and his furs could not be mistaken. The Nameless One.

Wilam saw him. So did Kirutu. As did all gathered, following Melino’s stare.

But this time they did not flee. Kirutu stilled them, hand raised. His order rumbled over the crowd. “Stay.”

They stayed. Motionless.

As if satisfied that he’d done what he’d come to do, the Nameless One slowly turned and walked out of view, spear in hand.

Wilam and Melino exchanged a furtive look.

Kirutu turned to his brother. “So be it,” he said.

Wilam nodded at his guard. “Bring her.”

And then he loped from the clearing, up the path that led to the Impirum village.

As one, his people fell in behind him.

I was going home.

My new home.

A FULL DAY passed before I stood before Wilam again. I was sequestered in the upper courts, in a clean but sparsely appointed hut, guarded at all times. A servant brought me food and water, but no one else came and the servant refused to speak to me.

I understood this much: I was the cause of a great rupture in the Tulim valley. A part of me regretted having made such a bold play for my life. How many lives would be lost on my account?

But the better part of me was grateful to be alive.

On the evening of the next day, I was summoned and taken by a warrior to the Muhanim, that great meeting place reserved for the lords in the upper court.

Melino cut us off as we approached the towering entrance. She took my hand and dismissed the warrior. The man scowled but held his place along the path. The tension between them was unmistakable. I might have been saved from Kirutu, but my actions had earned me new enemies among the Impirum.

“Remember only one thing,” Melino whispered as we stepped up to the entrance. “If you do not conceive soon, all will be lost. Think of nothing else. Only a child can save you now.”

Then she led me into the Muhanim.

Wilam sat by the fire, etching markings into the shaft of a spear. Four other muhan warriors watched me from across the room. Not a soul spoke.

I stood with hands at my sides, tickled by a bead of sweat that ran down my neck and broke over my collarbone. Wilam stared at me for few moments, then set his spear aside and stood.

“Leave us.”

The warriors made for the door immediately, followed by Melino.

Wilam and I were alone.

The fire lapped at the stuffy night air inside the Muhanim, casting its orange hue over menacing faces carved into shields and over figures painted on the walls.

Wilam stood tall next to the platform, watching me, surrounded by drums and weapons and cured boar hides. Every detail of his body was imprinted on my mind. His white eyes, fixed upon my face like twin moons; his coal-dark skin, glistening in the firelight; his powerful muscles strung along his frame like cords of black steel; his firm jaw and fully fleshed lips; his large hands and carefully manicured nails.

I saw it all and I began to tremble.

For a long time we just stared at each other. When he did speak, my as of yet limited understanding of the language slowed our conversation considerably more than what I will convey.

“Do you understand what kind of trouble you have brought us?” he asked, voice low.

“I don’t remember bringing anything. I remember being taken by force.”

His eyes remained on me, glistening. “Isaka can no longer hear or speak. The future of the Tulim rests on my shoulders. If Kirutu seizes power, he will rule with a spear.”

“You won’t let that happen,” I said, but it was desperate thinking. I had cast my lot with him, but Kirutu would have his day. My whole existence rested on Wilam’s ability to protect and save me.

“It’s no longer in my hands,” he said. “I was won by my wife’s whispers. Melino has placed me at the whim of your womb.”

I was at a loss. In many ways he was right.

“You’re too strong to be so easily fooled, my lord,” I finally managed. “You saw in me a path to power. Do you now doubt your own judgment?”

That gave him a few seconds’ pause.

“My advisers doubt. You are as slippery as Melino.”

“Too slippery for your advisers, perhaps. But not for Wilam, the lord who would rule.”

“Maybe more slippery than Melino,” he said.

“And you have more wisdom than your advisers,” I returned.

He returned my stare. In the space of under a minute we had achieved an understanding that surprised even me.

Wilam walked up to me. His body smelled of sweet lotion that reminded me of the white orchids that grew in the surrounding jungle. Or was it the scent of coconut oil? But I could also smell the musky odor of man and flesh beneath it all.

He reached out and touched my hair, gently raking his fingers through it.

“It’s soft,” he said.

I suddenly couldn’t speak.

He walked around me, touching my shoulders and the back of my head. Only once did he feel my flesh, and then only with a soft pinch along my side to measure my fat.

He stood before me again. “You need to eat more,” he said.

I looked down at my body and saw a lean, youthful form. Without sugar in my diet and with far more exercise than I was accustomed to, I was thinner than I had been in Atlanta, but not by much.

It occurred to me that Wilam was only like me, trying to come to grips with a situation that was foreign to him. In his lifetime he’d surely never encountered a woman who would not count it a great blessing to be with him.

He retreated to the reclining platform covered in boar hides, sat atop it, folded his legs one over the other, and touched the platform beside him. “Sit.”

Without hesitation I approached him and sat, folding my legs like his own.

Wilam stared at the fire in the center of the large room. “I want you to teach me the ways of your world. What Melino says is correct: the Tulim will be crushed as the Asmat are being crushed by the coming of the foreigners.”

“I will teach you.”

His head turned to me. “These canoes in the sky we call spirits, they have great power?”

“Enough power to destroy the Tulim.”

“Kirutu would make war on the wam.”

“Then he would be foolish,” I said.

Wilam looked at me, perhaps struck by my audacity. But he accepted it without rebuking me.

“You must protect the Tulim from the ways of the wam, not fight them.”

He offered a slow nod. “My only concern now is Kirutu. His heart is blackened by Sawim.”

“And what of the Nameless One?” I asked.

He went still for a moment.

“Melino spoke to you about this?”

“She said she doesn’t think he’s evil. And that if I have a son with you, the child may be special.” I paused. “What did he say to Kirutu under the tree?”

Wilam averted his eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “The ways of the spirit are best left to shamans.” He spat to one side. “My place is to wage war, not bend magic.” Then he added, for my benefit: “No one knows this man or why he has come.”

“Do you fear him?”

“I fear no one.”

And yet I saw fear in his eyes.

“You don’t know what he said to Kiru—”

“Enough!” he snapped.

I felt slapped.

He settled and continued in a more gentle tone. “No one will ever know what was said. Kirutu is too proud. What matters is that I chose you before all Tulim. Now I must show them that my choice was wise. Do you understand this?”

His choice to claim me. Melino’s words flowed through my mind. The values of the Tulim were still strange to me, but I was beginning to understand. In their world I was simply a means to an end. Yes, Wilam had some attraction to me, but desire to possess and to bring forth a child was what raged through his blood, not any intrinsic desire for me.

If I could bear a child, I would be seen as a valuable asset, one that Wilam had cleverly taken for himself. If I could not, he would appear the weaker, fooled by desire for a woman. A white wam at that.

But I wasn’t in a position to complain.

“I understand,” I said.

“The course is set—we cannot fail.”

“No, we must not.”

Even saying it, I felt fear rise through me.

“There’s no time. I must show my people that my choice is right.”

“Yes.”

“Immediately.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

Wilam looked at the door and let out a long breath. “You will now be my second wife. I have informed the elders.”

I blinked. “Already? There’s no ceremony?”

He looked at me, confused. “You are wam. There is no ceremony, we are wed at my word. And make no mistake, you are lesser than Melino. My
akawi
.” Which I took to mean something less than a full wife, like a concubine. “You will do only what she commands.” He paused. “And you will teach me the ways of the wam who fly in canoes.”

I nodded. But my mind was already on conceiving a child, because it was the last thing I wanted to do. In the wake of losing Stephen, I was in no frame of mind to conceive, certainly not with a native I hardly knew.

And yet no remotely reasonable alternative presented itself to me. In the way of the Tulim, being named Wilam’s wife was a great honor. Matters of choice and love had nothing to do with it. To bear a son for him would be perhaps the greatest honor known in the valley.

Thinking anything less served neither me nor the Tulim.

“When was your last blood?” Wilam asked.

He was wasting no time.

“Three weeks ago,” I said.

Wilam clearly knew the meaning of a woman’s cycles.

“Then you will come when I call.”

I KEPT telling myself that this was the only way. I had been delivered into the Tulim valley against my will, but I was no longer a slave to be forced. I was the wife of a prince, and my place as that wife was of my choosing. Hadn’t I chosen to be his wife rather than be handed over to Kirutu? Yes. And so I would be his wife.

But my fears still rode me like demons as I frantically prepared myself for Wilam should he call. I feared that he would reject me. That I would break down and reject him. That somehow I would be violating my principles despite good reasoning to the contrary.

Within minutes of my leaving Wilam, Melino hurried to the hut they’d assigned me and presented me with two of her finest skirts. She quickly went to work on my hair.

“He will call tonight,” she said. “You must not be afraid. Wilam may sound like a boar among the men, but alone he is a gentle man.” She glanced up at my eyes. “You are certain that you can conceive?”

It was all too much. I promptly stood and walked away from her.

“Not with this kind of pressure!” I snapped.

She stared at me, stunned.

Tears seeped into my eyes. “I’m not from your jungle, Melino. I hardly know who I am anymore! Now I’m expected to be with your husband and conceive a child at the snap of his fingers?”

Her features slowly softened. She walked to the bed and sat down, then patted the woven bark beside her.

“Sit.”

So I crossed to her and sat, knowing already that my course was set.

She took my chin and turned my face toward her.

“Now listen to me, Yuli.” I felt some comfort, hearing her call me that name. “First of all, you must know that he is now
your
husband as well. You are afraid, I know, but you are honored now and your honor will know no end when you miss your blood. It is a great honor to conceive the son of a prince. You must wipe your tears away.”

I nodded, but my eyes must have told a different story.

“Wilam is a very beautiful man,” she said. “When I was still young, I used to watch him strut through the village and dream he would choose me one day. When he did, the whole valley heard my cries of joy.”

“Yes, Melino, but this isn’t my way.”

She couldn’t know the courting ways I was accustomed to, but we did have one thing in common, and she had no trouble pointing to it.

“I can see how much you love the children. Yellina is like a little sister to you.”

The memory of little Yellina singing with me filled my mind.

“Think of the children. If you don’t know how to do this for Wilam, then do it for them. Give Wilam the power to rule and protect our children. Do not think of yourself in this. Think of the people.”

Her words cut to my core. It struck me, sitting there on the bed of that hut, that I was seeing my predicament all wrong. I should be delighted at the turn in my fate, not fearful of something that could bring so much beauty. I was thinking only of myself and seeing only through the lenses that had no meaning here in the jungle.

As if a switch had been thrown in my head, my perspective on the path before me shifted.

“If you must know, Wilam is secretly terrified of you,” Melino said, smiling.

The revelation surprised me. But then, why wouldn’t he be? I was as foreign to him as he was to me.

“He is a kind man?”

“The kindest,” she said.

“And gentle?”

“Like a dove.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Then make me beautiful.”

She did, in her own way, and I began to let all of my fears fall away.

I asked Melino what I should expect of the imminent encounter, what customs I ought to be aware of. She only smiled and said Wilam would be more interested in my own customs.

As promised the call did come, later that very night, and my first thought was to run away into the forest. Instead I followed the servant obediently.

Fifteen minutes later I stood outside Wilam’s spousal hut, took one deep breath to calm my jitters, and, at the prompting of the man who’d fetched me, ducked through the entrance.

Wilam sat on a mat by the fire, arms on his knees, staring absently into the flames. The servant quickly boarded up the entrance.

We were alone.

“You’ve come,” he said.

“You called,” I replied.

He dipped his head.

“Sit.”

I recalled Melino’s advice. I had no idea what was customary among the Tulim in these situations, but I knew my own ways. Wilam had married me, not a Tulim woman. I was a woman, not a slave. A treasure, not a piece of property. That’s what I told myself as I remained standing.

“Do you find me beautiful?” I asked.

His eyes lingered on mine, then swept down my body.

“I am honored to be called your wife,” I said. “It would be easier for me to conceive if I knew that you felt as honored to be my husband. And that you find me beautiful.”

For a long time Wilam said nothing, but I could see by the light of the fire that he was not displeased with my boldness. I knew then that I had as much power here in this hut as he did.

When he spoke, his voice was gentle.

“Sit down beside me, Yuli.”

I rounded the fire pit and eased down with my legs folded to one side, leaning on one arm.

“Look at me,” he said.