MULATTO (Iyila) (Editing)

chapter fourteen ~ Dedicated to Mr Banks

IYILA tried to control her breathing as well as the heavy tray in her hands as she fearfully hurried to the study. Racheal had demanded that she serve Zachary tea in his study. The fact that she was not assigned to work as a field slave but serve the master most times, made her wonder if she was truly fortunate or not. As she briskly walked to the door, she heard a manly laughter escape from the study. It sounded like rumbling sky; it was Zachary's and it made her jiggle like a wet chicken.

She took a deep breath and knocked on the door, at the same time paying attention to the heavy tray that she carried. But there was no reply, simply the laughter that echoed in the room. She waited for a few seconds before knocking again. This time a loud voice tinted with humour commanded her to come in. Shaking, she grabbed the knob and slowly opened the door.

The first thing that caught Iyila's eyes were the piles of books on four long wooden shelves that reached the four corners of one wall. There were small books slanting on a smaller shelf close to the cabinet where assorted drinks that she had never seen before stood. On the other walls of the room hung round and square structured frames of white people, both men and women, oddly dressed, whom she believed to be the relatives of the master. While most of the women in the frames wore simple simpers, the men frowned as if they had a gun pointed to their heads. In one corner of the room was a large pianoforte; freshly dusted. The study was nothing like she had ever seen nor imagined. It was entirely different from the round table, three wooden chairs and a single tired shelf in Amos' study. This one was something more than the studies she had seen in the books she had read. It had enormous space that could keep a hundred negroes occupied. It had class and smelled like wealth and...

"Come forward!" she heard a voice interrupt her thoughts; it was Zachary's. Startled, she stared at him. He stared back, anger on his masculine face.

"I said come forward!" he rudely repeated. She instantly did, mentally cursing herself for been easily carried away. It was then that she noticed another man, seated opposite him. She carefully dropped the tray on the little space on the table where there were no papers or books.

Quickly, she created a space that she intended to place the cups. As she served the tea, the man other man spoke, "We dragged the negro all the way."

"And the child, what did you do to it?" Zachary said; there was amusement in his voice and it shocked her. She never could have believed that he could afford a smile! She had never seen him without a frown, or cursing, or giving commands. The other man laughed. Iyila noticed his laughter was different from Zachary's; it was dry, throaty, and lacked humour and mostly not intriguing.

"The child was a spirited fellow. A strong lad I must say. He tried to fight my men but we took care of him," the man said. Iyila wondered why he spoke so fast as if he had hot food in his mouth. His skin was not as fair as Zachary's, it was as if he had spent long hours in the harsh weather, tanned, that was the word.

"Is there anything else you would wish for me to do, master?" she soberly asked when she had finished, carefully staring at her shaggy leg-covers that they call shoes. He did not reply but continued his conversation. " I assume you sold the child an__"

"Master may I__"

"No you may not. Stay!" Zachary coldly declared staring at her. Fear instantly seized her and she froze, but never raised her eyes. Still she could sense his eyes scanning her body.

"Do not ever interject when I speak!" he demanded and she quickly nodded. She immediately regretted speaking because she had presumed that he did not hear her.

"What did you do to the child," he angrily questioned, turning his gaze to Burkins. Iyila sighed, perhaps he was in a better mood.

"It was a lovely day for me because we caught two birds with just one stone," Burkins replied.