SAMBA YACINE

CHAPTER 10

"MY GOD!"
Aida gaped in horror at the sight in front of her. When she woke up that morning, she was determined to hire a servant, someone to take over Samba's chores now that he was gone. Yet, when she made her way downstairs to get breakfast, it was with utter disbelief that she found the wretched boy already setting different plates of food in the living-room.
After her husband brought the blood-stained bracelet with a pitiful look on his face, she'd assumed that the boy was dead somewhere, bled out to death or perhaps eaten by wild animals but there he was, perfectly healthy. Well...Except for his bandaged arm of course.
Aida recoiled when the boy noticed her presence and offered her a smile. A smile. Nothing was more terrifying than that joyful look after what she knew he went through yesterday. She'd have preferred to see him wave a knife in her direction, it would have made sense at least. But Samba wasn't angry nor did he seem vengeful. He appeared to be just fine.
"Good morning, auntie!" He chimed like a bird. "I am sorry I wasn't here yesterday. Something came up but I'm sure father told you all about it."
He glanced at his arm for a quick second before turning his attention back to her, his smile trembling a bit.
"Do not worry. I have managed to take care of everything despite my disability. The house is squeaky clean, breakfast is served and I have washed all of the dirty clothes. Do you need anything else? Should I go and wake up my brother?"
Aida fisted her hands to hide their trembling. She dashed toward the boy and held him by the collar of his rags:
"What are you?" She snarled. "Why are you here?"
"What do you mean, aunt-"
"Stop, I am not your damned auntie. I'm nothing to you, do you hear me? And don't pretend that everything is fine. I have asked my husband to take your hand off and you know it, now tell me why you came back here anyway."
Samba glared right back at her. It dawned on him that he was actually taller than his stepmother. For some reason, he'd always seen her like a giant, even when he reached his adolescence and was no longer a little boy. But not anymore, though. He could see the fear in her eyes. She was scared of him and for a good cause.
"Because I have nowhere else to go." He responded.
"Then die!" The woman screamed into his face and pushed him back. "Die, you cursed child! I don't want to see you anymore!"
Samba almost wanted to roar in laughter. His stepmother was going mad right in front of him and it was utterly pleasing to see. Yet, he maintained his act and made himself seem as vulnerable as possible.
Her screeches had brought the rest of the household into the living-room. Father and step brother stood by the door with as much horror as the stepmother had earlier on their faces. She leaned down and grabbed one of the knives Samba had brought for breakfast.
"I will kill you myself!"
She launched forward but Samba stopped her before she could strike. Aida gasped at the boy's strength. His left hand was wrapped around her wrist and it felt like he could break her bones if he wanted to.
"You should not act foolishly, auntie." He said, his smile now long gone. "If you kill me, you will be executed and your precious son will become an orphan, just like me. You know better than anyone else what happens to orphan boys. They are left at the mercy of tyrants who won't stop at anything to tear them apart. Do you really want that for your child?"
Aida gritted her teeth together. Her arm fell limply to her side and she dropped the knife. Samba picked it up and walked away from her. By the living room's entrance, he met his father's eyes but the latter quickly looked down at his feet. Samba then focused on his brother. The boy had a sheepish expression on but it wasn't what grabbed Samba's attention, it was the hand he tried to hide behind his back because he was wearing the bracelet. Samba's bracelet, his only link to his mother.
His jaw tightened and he noticed his brother flinch. Yes, Samba could have attacked him to take what was rightfully his but he decided it wasn't the right moment. Instead, he said to his brother and father:
"Please, go on and eat before the food gets cold."
As soon as he was out of the room, Samba Aida could release the breath he was holding. In his life, he'd feared many things but Samba Yacine was never one of them. Things were now different. He rushed to his mother and hugged her. She was crying helplessly.
"Mom..."
"H-he isn't human." She wailed. "He is a demon sent out to disrupt the peace of my life! W-what should I do, son? T-tell me."
She grabbed her boy's face between her hands, looking at him pleadingly. Samba Aida tried to think of something but it wasn't easy. He wasn't used to thinking, after all.
"Maybe you don't have to do anything, mother..." He said.
"What?"
"Y-yes. If he's a demon sent out to disrupt your life, then you have to do the exact opposite of what he wants. No more schemes, let's just show him that we have won and that he can't hurt us. Soon I will be king, mother. Do you really think you should spend your time and effort worrying about one boy when your son is going to own everything within this kingdom in a few days?"
Aida's back straightened. She smiled in admiration, staring at her son's face.
"You are right..." She said, her eyes sparkling like precious stones. "Oh my brilliant boy! You are absolutely right! He came back to torment me but I won't allow it."
"Of course you won't, you are stronger than that."
"Yes! We must shove our joy in his face, son. Let's make this home a living hell for him and if we are fortunate, we won't even need to kick him out ourselves. He will leave on his own."
Samba Aida nodded and his mother took him in her arms for another long hug. The father was still standing near the door. Watching that scene happen in front of him made him feel like he was losing his mind. Aida and her son sat on the mat and started eating the breakfast that Samba had prepared.
"Come, husband." She called him. "Come eat."
"...Thank you but I have no appetite."
In fact, he wanted to throw up. How could they sit and eat the food prepared by Samba without a single worry in their mind while he could barely live with the guilt over his shoulders? The man left the home, not able to face his family for the rest of the day.
On the other hand, Samba plotted. Time ticked slowly when he was in the presence of his stepmother and halfbrother. As if it wasn't agonizing enough. Yet, the witch's words came back to him every time he neared giving up. Something was meant to happen that would change his life and that would only occur if he was still in his stepmother's home.
With his new feelings for the queen, he hoped that the thing in question was to win the selection at the harvest feast. The crown didn't matter to him, all he wanted was her. But he'd have to find a way to participate despite having lost his hand.
Later in the afternoon, they had the visit of the tailor bringing the gowns he made for Samba Aida.
The stepmother decided to welcome him in the yard where Samba Yacine was already working on feeding the chickens. He knew why, of course. The woman spoke loud and clear:
"Dear sir, thank you for completing the work I asked of you in such a short time. Now that the gowns are here, I have nothing to worry about. Please, spread them out so we can see."
Aida stood by her son as the tailor opened his sack and got out one rich gown after the other, placing them gently on the mat. Samba tried not to look but it was hard to resist. He glanced at his half brother's robes and his heart filled with envy yet again. They were sumptuous. The tailor had not been named the best in vain. The fabrics were already gorgeous to look at but the work he'd done only valorized all of it.
Each piece was like jewelry and they'd been made especially to fit Samba Aida. The boy himself was stunned.
"Mother..." He breathed out, holding her hand. "Mother these are unworldly."
"I know, son. I got the best for you."
"It must have cost a fortune!"
"All my wealth is yours already."
Samba felt his left eye twitch. He imagined his half brother in front of the queen, dressed like a damned prince. He'd seen him chant and dance. His brother was irresistible, the most probable match he knew of. It was delusional to think he could compete with him when he had nothing.
He didn't even know if the queen cared about him the way he did. She might not have given him a thought after he left her carriage last night. Perhaps the kiss he'd given her meant nothing. She'd met great people who'd pecked her hand before. Samba was a nobody next to them.
"As the saying goes, my love. The child of a hardworking woman can never despair and I have worked very hard for you, child! I have worked so you will reach so high that no one can ever touch you."
Aida said those words while glancing at Samba through the corner of her eyes. Her heart filled with satisfaction when she noticed him wipe away some tears.
"SAMBA!" She called.
"Yes, auntie?" He said softly.
"Don't yes me, you stupid boy! Come here, now."
Samba dropped his bucket full of grains and walked to his stepmother. The snooty look on her and his step brother's faces made him want to throw a punch but he was too sad to indulge in violence.
"Help your brother into his gowns." Aida commanded.
Samba fisted his hand. His voice trembled when he spoke again:
"I apologize auntie but my hand is dirty after all the work in the fields and feeding the chicks. I would not dare touch the gowns."
"Then go clean your hand. It's not the end of the world now, is it?"
There was no question asked. Samba cleaned his hand and came back. As always, his brother felt no shame in exposing his nudity to the world. He stepped out of his clothes while his mother and the tailor were still standing there.
"Which one would you like to try?" Samba asked drily.
"He will try all of them." Aida responded.
There were five gowns, each composed of pants, tops and coats. Samba had never dreaded his stepmother's torture techniques as much as this one. But again, he had no choice, no power. He was in her house.
His brother pointed at the yellow gown with a lazy smirk. Samba picked it up and helped him wear it through gritted teeth. It was unbearable to stare at his brother's naked form for so long. Just as if he knew, the other boy took his time stepping into his pants and having the coat draped over his shoulders. Samba knew that his stepmother and her son were entertaining themselves with his suffering.
Once he was fully dressed, Samba Aida twirled in front of his small audience.
"Oh lord, your shine is blinding me!" His mother commented while Samba and the tailor remained silent.
But it was true. The coat shone like it was made of sun rays. It was the most beautiful piece of art that Samba had ever seen and his brother hadn't even tried the other clothes that all rivaled in beauty.
That's how he spent his evening, helping his brother prove how perfect he was compared to Samba. By the end of the day, his self confidence had been reduced to nothing.
The tailor was paid handsomely and Samba accompanied him to the door.
"Your work is praiseworthy, sir." He complimented before the man stepped out of the house. "I am sure that if my brother is selected as king, he will make you the royal family's tailor."
The man smiled:
"Thank you, I appreciate it."
Samba was about to close the door behind him when the older man added:
"I apologize but...Perhaps you could come to my shop tomorrow, after dinner?"
"Me, sir? Do you need help with something?"
"Yes. I would be very grateful if you would lend me a hand for something."
Samba almost snorted at the irony of those words considering the fact that he only had one hand now....
"Oh...Of course. I will be there." he said, not knowing what the tailor needed help with.
"Thank you."
Samba closed the door and leaned against it. There was something in the man's eyes, something that made him regain a bit of hope despite everything that had happened in the evening.
Somehow, he knew he was going to benefit a lot from visiting the tailor's home.