A Tumultuous Convergence (The Elephant and Macaw Banner - Novelette Series Book 6) Read online

  A Tumultuous Convergence

  The Elephant and Macaw Banner ®

  Novelette Series – Vol. 6

  by Christopher Kastensmidt

  “A Tumultuous Convergence” © 2016 Christopher Kastensmidt. All rights reserved.

  The Elephant and Macaw Banner® is a registered trademark of Christopher Kastensmidt.

  Cover art by Ursula “SulaMoon” Dorada.

  Cover design by Cristiane Viana.

  All artwork © 2016 Christopher Kastensmidt. All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-85-919338-5-3

  Visit our website at:

  EAMB.ORG

  A double salute to the WCMs:

  Cesar Alcázar, Duda Falcão, Enéias Tavares and A.Z. Cordenonsi

  A blue tanager stood upon a clay wall, waiting—along with many others of her kind—for the daily snack provided by the humans who lived within. One of the humans appeared, carrying the tanager’s favorite food—papayas—and she added her happy chirping to the chorus that broke out around her.

  The man, one of the ones that carried the booming sticks, split four papayas and laid them out. The tanager and her companions trilled at each other, establishing eating order for the day.

  Just as she picked her first nibble from the tasty fruit, a thunderous crack echoed from the woods. The tanager cocked her head and looked out over the forest, where a tall tree shook in time with a second crack, this one nearer. The tanager, used to such things, returned to her pecking.

  A third crack, this one very close, brought a tree crashing down. The tanager, nervous, thought it best to take her leave and come back when things quieted down. Just as she took flight, she spotted two men—one light-skinned and one dark-skinned—burst from the edge of the woods and into the clearing below.

  #

  Gerard panted as his flight led him zigzagging through the forest. He had lost sight of his Yoruban companion Oludara, and no longer knew if he continued intact or had been gored by their pursuer: an abnormally large, black bull with glowing red eyes.

  Gerard’s dodging had successfully caused the bull to strike several trees—and completely topple a few of them in the process. Each strike to the head bought Gerard precious seconds of flight, and the continued pounding seemed to be taking a toll on the bull, which required a bit more time to recover after each blow. At the same time, Gerard didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the pace himself.

  Without warning, he broke from the trees into a clearing of stumps, where the forest had been cleared away. At first, he was dismayed at seeing his cover break, thinking he would have to dive back in. However, he looked up the rise to spot a ten-foot clay wall some hundred yards before him. Atop the wall, far to his right, he spotted a bastion manned by two soldiers, and, just below it, a closed wooden gate. Gerard knew he had but a heartbeat to make a decision: run for the gate or return to the woods.

  “Open the gate!” he yelled as he charged toward the bastion. “Open the gate!”

  Oludara broke from the woods far to Gerard’s right, paused to look where Gerard was headed, then joined in his flight. His lean, muscled body endured the sprint better than Gerard’s wide frame, but even so, he showed signs of fatigue. Moments later, Gerard heard the bull pound its way from the forest.

  Gerard’s lungs burst with the effort. He could hear the hooves thudding ever closer, could picture the bull lowering its head for the gore and knew he had no chance.

  A volley of shots rang from the bastion and the hoofbeats paused, substituted by a ferocious bellow. Gerard chanced a look back to see the beast shake its head, then stubbornly continue the chase. Looking forward, he saw the gate opening, but knew he would never make it in time. He decided on a different course of action.

  “Oludara,” he said, “keep to the gate.”

  Oludara continued for the gate and Gerard veered away from it, heading instead for the nearest section of wall.

  “Try me, you overgrown steak!” he shouted at the bull.

  To his satisfaction, the bull followed him. He reached the wall and turned around to face his pursuer.

  Oludara, arriving at the gate, turned back and yelled, “Gerard, get out of there!”

  As Gerard rummaged through his pack, he shouted back, “I know what I’m doing. I think.”

  The bull charged him at full speed, and Gerard’s hand finally brushed his target: his banner. He yanked it from the pack with a flourish and waved it to one side.

  The bull, still charging, looked back and forth between Gerard and the banner, as if unable to make up its mind. Gerard braced for impact, but at the last moment the bull swerved, tearing through the banner and smashing into the packed clay beyond. The impact caused the beast to flip up and strike the wall, back first. A crack radiated out from the bull until an entire ten-foot section collapsed upon it, leaving only rubble between the two wooden supports on either side.

  Gerard wasted no time in pulling out his rapier and stabbing at the only patch of skin he could spot under the rubble: the rump. The bull let out a half-groan, half-squeal and jerked itself from the wreckage. It looked Gerard in the eye and snorted. Gerard leveled his rapier at the bull’s head and prepared to meet its attack.

  A second volley rang from the bastion and interrupted the confrontation. The bull—bleeding all over from cuts and punctures—snorted and raced back to the woods.

  Gerard sheathed his rapier, dusted off his doublet, and adjusted his wide-brimmed hat. He then climbed over the rubble to pass inside the wall. Oludara rushed toward him.

  “Gerard,” said Oludara, “that was brilliant. How did you think of such an idea?”

  “A Spaniard once told me you could fool a bull that way,” responded Gerard, “though I hardly believed him.”

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t know many Spaniards, do you?”

  Oludara didn’t seem to understand the jest, so Gerard let it pass.

  “Are you injured?” asked Oludara.

  “Escaped without a cut,” replied Gerard. He held up the crudely-drawn banner of the elephant and macaw, now with two jagged rips down the middle. “This will need some stitches, though.”

  At that moment, the two soldiers from the bastion joined them. Both bore harquebuses and appeared to be Portuguese, so close in appearance they might be brothers. One wore his hair long and sported a thick black mustache pulled out to paintbrush-like tips. The other wore his hair shorter and used a full beard. Both wore cotton pants, simple leather vests, and iron helmets.

  “Ironic,” said the first man. “That’s the same section of wall we fixed last time the bull smashed into it.”

  “Although that time,” said the other one, “we had to clean up what was left of Afonso as well.”

  The two men made the sign of the cross at the words.

  “I thank you both for your timely shots,” said Gerard. “My name is Gerard van Oost, and this is my companion Oludara.”

  “Welcome to Saint Sebastian of Rio de Janeiro,” said the first man. “My name is Luis.”

  “And mine Duarte,” added the second.

  “Rio de Janeiro,” said Gerard with a sparkle in his eye. “We finally made it.”

  “A strange trio you formed with the bull,” said Luis, “but not the strangest thing we’ve seen running out of those woods.”

  “Nor the most dangerous,” added Duarte, “not by far.”

  “What was that creature?” asked Oludara.

  “That one?” said Luis. “We just call
it ‘The Bull’.”

  “I’m sure the Indians call it something like ‘bulgawalagali’,” said Duarte. “They always come up with long, bizarre names for things.”

  “What do you mean, ‘that one’?” asked Gerard. “There are others?”

  “Well,” said Luis, “there’s the giant snake.”

  “And the black pig,” added Duarte.

  “And don’t forget the humongous crocodile with poison breath.”

  “Well,” said Gerard, “it appears there is much we could do here.”

  “How so?” asked Duarte.

  “We’ve conquered many perilous beasts on our journeys.”

  “Like you conquered that one today?” asked Luis, causing both soldiers to snicker.

  “Well,” said Gerard, embarrassed, “we do have better days, to be sure.”

  “You enjoy fighting those creatures?” asked Duarte. “How ludicrous.”

  “Absurd,” said Luis. “What kind of person goes looking for trouble like that?”

  “In any case,” said Duarte, “if you are looking to get yourselves killed, you’ve come to the right place. Rio de Janeiro is the worst post in Brazil.”

  “Because of the monsters?” asked Oludara.

  “Because of the monsters, the pirates...”

  “And the French,” added Luis.

  Both soldiers shuddered at the word.

  “Why the French?” asked Oludara.

  “They used to have a settlement here,” said Luis.

  “‘Antarctic France’ they called it,” said Duarte. “That is, until we booted them out.”

  “And let’s just say they weren’t too happy about it.”

  “They must have put a curse upon this bay when they left. It’s the only explanation for the constant convergence of pirates, monsters...”

  “And Frenchmen,” completed Luis.

  “This is an unusual place, Gerard,” said Oludara. “Perhaps there is a curse.

  “Gerard?” came a voice from behind them. “A French name if I’ve ever heard one.”

  They turned to see a dark-skinned man with an eye patch eying them suspiciously. He appeared to be caboclo, of mixed European and native blood. He wore his hair cropped short and his face shaven smooth. He used a yellow-and-green doublet and a fine hat.

  “Luis and Duarte,” he said, looking Gerard and Oludara up and down with his one eye, “what did you drag out of the woods today?”

  Gerard offered the man a hand, “Gerard van Oost, if you please,” he said. “From Brabant, not France. And this is my companion Oludara, a free man.”

  The man continued to eye him suspiciously. “Mercenaries, then?”

  “Of sorts. We’re bannermen, by allowance of the governor.”

  “I suppose that’s document enough. If the governor is giving banners to Frenchmen, he’s either given leave of his senses or given up on Brazil entirely. I’m Simon Santo, captain of the guard. I’ll need to see your papers, of course, and your banner.”

  “Our banner is the Elephant and Macaw.” Gerard held up the tattered banner.

  Simon held a fist over his mouth to stifle a laugh. The two soldiers snickered openly.

  Gerard frowned and stuffed the banner back into his pack.

  “Oludara and I would like to stay here for a time,” he said.

  Simon looked them up and down before responding. “No one stays here for free. As long as you remain in Rio de Janeiro, you’ll have duties, including patrol.”

  “It’s dangerous work,” advised Luis.

  “We’ve lost five men this year,” added Duarte.

  “And it’s only March.”

  “We’ll take our chances,” said Gerard.

  “Fine then,” said Simon. “Go to the barracks for a meal, then find these two for your first patrol.”

  #

  Rio de Janeiro’s fort stood upon a hill overlooking the bay. Oludara didn’t pay much attention on his way up, but at the top, Gerard paused to sweep out his arm in an exaggerated gesture.

  “Just look at this,” he said.

  Oludara followed Gerard’s movement and found the sight indeed impressive. A massive, island-filled bay stretched out before them. Rock formations covered by lush greenery stretched toward the sky on all sides, like the fingertips of a giant cupping the bay in its hands.

  “This port is astonishing,” said Gerard, speaking excitedly. “I can see why the French covet it so. It’s not only beautiful, but ample. There are a half-dozen landmarks recognizable from leagues away at sea. It will be almost unconquerable, once it’s properly established.” Gerard paused and looked back at the city. “Although it appears they’re a long way from that.”

  Oludara could see what he meant. The city, if you could call it that, was formed by no more than thirty low buildings, almost all built from clay. The wall was buttressed clay, with four bastions and some cannon spread around the perimeter. The unfinished fort was being pieced together from clay and stone.

  “Nothing here is built to last,” said Gerard. “It’s no city, not yet, just the promise of one. It will make a jewel of a port one day, though—beautiful and powerful.”

  After a few minutes admiring the scenery, they entered the barracks, which turned out to be nothing more than a dining hall with some long tables, a kitchen, and a row of hammocks for sleeping. Too late for breakfast and too early for dinner, they only found one person inside, a peg-legged man with wispy black strands of hair surrounding a bald crown.

  Gerard held out a hand to the man and said, “I’m Gerard van Oost and this is Oludara. We’ve just joined the garrison here and were sent by Captain Simon for a meal.” The man shook Gerard’s hand but didn’t even look at Oludara.

  “You’ve come to the right place,” he replied. “My name is Pedro Galo and when I’m not soldiering, I’m cooking. I’ll see what I can round up.”

  They followed Pedro to the kitchen and he grabbed two plates. He ladled out some white meat with onions from a pot.

  “You’re lucky,” he said, “still some left from last night.”

  “This is fine fare for soldiers,” said Oludara, his mouth watering at the sight.

  “Wild pig and wild onions, the wilderness here provides a bounty. If food and water alone could win wars, this would be the most powerful city on Earth. Unfortunately for us, powder and shot don’t grow on trees.”

  Pedro added figs, quince cheese, and two slabs of bread to the plates.

  As the two walked back to the tables, Gerard exclaimed, “Can you believe this feast? They even have wheat bread here. We’ve been eating that cassava hard tack for so long, I’ve forgotten what it tastes like.”

  Oludara held out an arm to silence his companion. An old native sat at one table with a meal of his own before him. The man used his hair in a tonsure, like the Tupinambá natives they knew so well, but it shone white. A crow perched on his right shoulder.

  “Did you see that man when we came in?” asked Oludara.

  “No, can’t say I did.”

  “Don’t you think you would have noticed him?”

  Oludara would have given the strange man a wide berth, but Gerard shrugged and sat down across from him. Oludara sat beside Gerard and wrinkled his nose when he spotted the old man’s plate. It contained a meat he didn’t recognize, raw to the point of bloody. The man pulled off a dripping hunk and slung it into his mouth. Oludara looked away from the grotesque display and returned his attention to his own plate, although the better part of his appetite had disappeared.

  Gerard took in a sharp breath before regaining his composure. “My name is Gerard van Oost,” he said, “and this is my companion, Oludara. We’re bannermen, come to join the garrison for a time.”

  The man looked back and forth between the two. The crow mimicked the movement, looking them over.

  “I know of you and your banner, Gerard van Oost,” the native replied in Tupi.

  Oludara noticed his companion flushing red. He knew how much Gerard d
esired recognition. It appeared that word of their adventures had spread.

  As if reading his thoughts, the native turned toward him and said, “I didn’t say I’ve heard of you, Oludara. I said I know who you are.”

  Oludara and Gerard looked at each other but said nothing. Instead, they returned their concentration to the food and ignored the unusual man. The native stared at Gerard, as if studying him. When he next spoke, he switched to Portuguese, causing them both to look up in surprise.

  “Your actions will decide the fate of an empire, van Oost.”

  Gerard choked on his food and had to gulp down some water to clear his throat. When he could finally speak again, he asked, “Empire? What empire?”

  “The Empire of Brazil!”

  Oludara and Gerard laughed in unison.

  “Hah,” said Gerard. “Brazil is barely a colony.”

  “It is now,” said the man, “but not forever. And you will decide who is to rule.”

  Gerard snorted. “Even if I did believe that this ‘Brazilian Empire’ might some day come to pass, it’s none of my concern who rules it. I came here for adventure, not politics.”

  “Perhaps you will change your mind, before this day is done. Choose well.”

  The man pushed his plate toward Gerard. “I’m not hungry for this anymore,” he said. “Would you care for a bite?”

  Gerard couldn’t hide his disgust. “No thank you,” he said. “I’m fine with what I have.”

  “That’s what I figured. You see? You’ve already made one choice. One more awaits.”

  Without another word, the man stood and left, leaving Gerard and Oludara to shrug their shoulders and, after removing the plate of disgusting meat from their sight, return to their meals.

  #

  Out for their first guard duty, Oludara and Gerard followed Luis and Duarte along the coast. As they passed from the city and into the surrounding farms, Oludara spotted hundreds of natives, some living in their own villages, others dispersed among the European families settled there. He was thankful not to spot any African slaves, but noticed with distaste that many of the natives served the same purpose.