Counternarratives by John Keene Page B

he felt Dom Gaspar’s
arms bracing him.
    â€œThis João Baptista, or Quimbanda as they call it,” Pero said, “has long
been a source of mischief, well before you arrived. It—she—he sent away a number of
the slaves, as you can see, as part of his, its mischief, and was planning to
dispatch the rest of us to that blackest place, well before the Dutch could.”
    â€œT-t-t-throw him on the w-w-woodpile,” Barbosa Pires shrieked, startling
D’Azevedo, who was just regaining his composure. “T-t-t-there may be more p-p-plots
afoot in town given w-w-what this one is capable of.”
    â€œI concur with Padre Barbosa,” Padre Pero continued, “that we hurl this
pillar of evil on the very woodpile it was assembling”—and as he uttered these words
he approached the bound slave and whispered something D’Azevedo could not hear, the
knife in his hand grazing the back of João Baptista’s neck—“then put all the rest of
them on there, lest those filthy Dutch or anyone else get their hands on them.”
    â€œT-t-there is a plot afoot,” Barbosa Pires screamed.
    â€œPadre Pero,” D’Azevedo said again, “Padre Barbosa Pires, we will not
and cannot proceed in this manner. We have laws and rules and will deal with this
person, these persons, as they compel us to, and we shall follow them.” After saying
this, D’Azevedo stood silently, neither he nor Dom Gaspar nor Padre Barbosa Pires
nor Padre Pero nor any of the enslaved men, save João Baptista, stirring at all,
until he finally said, “Dom Gaspar, I want you to bring this person to my office,
immediately.” He turned to Padre Pero, who was still holding the knife and glowering
at João Baptista as he was led away, and Padre Barbosa Pires, who was holding
tightly onto the boy in front of him, and, collecting his words before he spoke,
D’Azevedo said, “My blessed brothers, I want you to untie these men and take them
and the boy to the barn. Order them to stay there. Then I want you to get dressed,
and prepare yourselves so that we might discuss not just this matter, but the far
graver threats we face. We shall meet in the chapel in one hour.”
    D’Azevedo did not move until he had watched Padre Pero cut the manacles
of rope off the two men, before guiding them, with Padre Barbosa Pires following
him, Filhinho in tow, toward the barn. If it came down to the Dutch offering these
men their freedom he would emancipate them all on the spot. He decided to draft a
document to this effect as soon as he was done with his initial interrogation of
João Baptista. When Dom Gaspar returned, he asked the brother to collect the wig,
the rope and the oil; the first two he should bring to the chapel for the meeting
and discussion, the second he should deposit in the kitchen. D’Azevedo went straight
to his office.
    The slave João Baptista stood waiting outside the door. D’Azevedo led
him inside and, taking a rare step, locked the door behind him. At first sight, the
slave looked wretched and forlorn. The thin linen shift was smeared with dirt and
grass, and a large patch of soil, where Padre Pero had pushed him down, covered part
of his neck and cheek. Down the white back of his shift rilled a thin band of blood.
There was also blood on his lips, and on his slender arms. D’Azevedo removed the gag
and untied the rope binding João Baptista’s hands and feet, guiding him to the stool
facing D’Azevedo’s desk. Into one small glazed bowl he poured well water and into a
second coconut water from the very urns that João Baptista brought to him several
times a day, then handed both, with a rag that sat on his table, to the servant so
that he could refresh and clean himself.
    Now that he was looking João Baptista in the eyes, he considered that he
had never really observed him, never seen him before. The face was crystalline in
its