Kanana Page 4

  “You’re Katarina. Katarina Haldane. Your father was an Englishman and your mother was from Russia.”

  She frowned and shook her head.

  “Katarina,” I said, pointing to her.

  “Kanana.”

  “Katarina.”

  “Kanana.” She pointed to herself, then at me. “Henry Goode.”

  “Your name is Katarina Haldane.”

  She suddenly knocked the platter from my hands and jumped her feet.

  “Kanana hur zaki ruhu!” she shouted, stamping her foot. “No good, Henry Goode!”

  With a running start, she dived from the ledge at the room’s edge. Good God! She was jumping to her death! I scrambled up as quickly as I could and ran to look over the verge after her. I was just in time to see her, perfectly fine, running into the jungle hundreds of feet below. It seemed impossible that she could have negotiated such a descent so quickly, but there she was—or rather, there she went.

  I sat down and awaited Kanana’s return, but she didn’t return. Evening came and then night, but there was no sign of her. I ate the remaining pieces of fruit, but had nothing to drink. Afterwards I slept fitfully. I never made it all the way to true slumber, so at least I was not troubled by the recurring dream, but I also felt as though my body had not been able to rejuvenate itself. Kanana was absent all the next day as well. I spent much of it looking through Aleksandra Haldane’s journal, but I couldn’t make any more of it beyond noting the names of a few European cities. As darkness grew that next evening, I was definitely starting to feel the effects of thirst and hunger. I resolved that in the morning I would descend to the jungle to find some sustenance. Judging by the pain that now reached into my extremities, I was fairly sure that I was going to die, and a part of me was resigned to the fact, but another part insisted that I at least try to save myself.

  Fairly late that next morning, I got myself together well enough to begin the climb down. At first the way was very steep, but after about fifty feet it curved back on itself and went down at a much more negotiable slant. Unfortunately, though the way was not as arduous, the walkway grew narrower. I suppose that considering my condition and the details of the landscape, it was only a matter of time before I slipped and fell to my death. As it turned out, I was more than halfway down the mountain when I slipped on loose stone. I slid several feet before toppling over into midair and falling. Not more than five feet below the point from which I had fallen, I smacked my head on a rock and everything went black.

  * * * * *

  She walked briskly across the lobby of the shipping company offices. She didn’t stop to speak to anyone and didn’t even slow her gate as she stepped into the elevator just a moment before the attendant slid the door shut.

  “Who was that?” I asked Martin.

  His desk was placed against mine and he was leaning back in his seat, with his polished black oxfords resting on his desk blotter. Stretching, he folded his hands together behind his head.

  “That’s Quincy’s daughter, Gertrude.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Oh, she’s interesting alright—not much of a looker though.”

  “You’re kidding me. She’s gorgeous. She looks like Mary Pickford.”

  “If you like that sort of thing. I’m more an Edna Purvience man, myself.”

  “You’re crazy as a bedbug.”

  “You might as well quit mooning about her…”

  “I’m not mooning. I only just saw her for the first time a moment ago.”

  “The point is: she’s a Quincy. They’re as close to royalty as you can find in these parts. She’ll never be interested in you. She’s going to grow up to marry young Otis or someone just like him. She’s not for the likes of us.”

  “The likes of you, you mean.” I stood up and slipped on my jacket. “I’m going to give it a go. There’s no harm in trying.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said.

  * * * * *

  I was surprised to find myself waking up again at all and was just as surprised to find that I wasn’t lying broken and crumpled at the bottom of the mountain. I was in a room very similar to the one I had left, but not the same one. This one had all four walls and in the middle of one wall was a fountain, which though broken, still held a pool of cool water. My tongue thick from thirst, I tried for the refreshing vision before me only to find that I was bound to some kind of platform. I was lying on a stone slab and thick bands of rope held me fast. Though I struggled, I couldn’t so much as shift an arm. Suddenly Kanana was there, standing beside me.

  “Drink,” she said, pouring water from a wooden cup into my open mouth.

  “More.”

  She gave me two more cups of water, but into the last one she poured the contents of a small leather pouch. After a brief taste I tried not to drink. It was bitter and nasty, but when I refused it, Kanana forced my mouth open and poured it down my throat. I gagged and coughed, but it went down.

  “Good, Henry Goode,” she said.

  “Let me go,” I said, struggling. “Untie me.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, Henry Goode.”

  I watched her step around me and pull back my shirt to look at my side, one of the few places that wasn’t obstructed by rope. I could lift my head just enough so that I could see what she was seeing, and what I saw frightened and sickened me. The place where I had been shot with the arrow was swarming with maggots.

  “Oh God!” I cried. “Let me up!”

  “No,” repeated Kanana.

  She walked around to stand by my head and gently passed her palm over my forehead. The room began to spin around. I realized that it was a result of what she had given me in the cup. Between being poisoned, starved, and being eaten alive, I was finally done for. At least it was over.

  Chapter Five: Kanana’s Fortress

  It was a cold crisp morning on Boston Common. There were few people on the Lagoon Bridge.

  “Good morning, Miss Quincy.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “No, but you want to.”

  “My, aren’t you bold?” She tilted her head back and gave me an appraising look. “You work for my father, don’t you?”

  “So you’ve noticed me.”

  Her laughter was musical. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve seen you, nothing more.”

  “I was hoping you might join me for dinner.”

  “You were? How disappointed you must be then.”

  “I don’t think I will be. I’ll come around to your house to pick you up at eight.”

  “There’s a good chance the dogs will be loose.”

  “If they’re not, I’ll know I’m expected.”

  * * * * *

  “Henry Goode,” I heard.

  “Just Henry,” I heard myself reply, even though I wasn’t aware of where I was or to whom I was speaking.

  Food was pushed into my mouth, and I managed, barely, to chew and swallow. Afterwards water was given to me and I drank. I don’t know how long this continued, but eventually I found the strength and will to sit up. I was still in the stone room where Kanana had tied me down. She was there, slicing pieces of cooked meat and putting them on a wooden platter. I jumped to my feet and immediately fell to the floor. She rushed over.

  “What have you done to me?” I shouted, shrugging her away.

  I pulled up my shirt to look at the arrow wound, but all that remained was a slight scar.

  “Good, Henry Goode.”

  “Just Henry,” I replied, anger still tinting my words.

  “Good, Henry,” she said, retrieving the plate and bringing it to me. “Eat.”

  “You seem to speak much better now.”

  “Kanana… remember.”

  I took the food offered, but I was far from mollified.

  “What did you do to me? I had maggots crawling on me. And you poisoned me.”

  “Kanana give… um, medicine. Kanana give… mags?”

  “Ma
ggots.”

  “Kanana give maggots. Maggots eat… um, dead Henry. Not eat live Henry.”

  I thought she was explaining that the maggots ate only the putrefying flesh and not the good, living flesh. I was no doctor, but I wasn’t ready to buy into that proposition. On the other hand, there was no denying that I seemed fine now. Still, I couldn’t help the nagging fear that I would burst open, sprouting a horde of vile insects.

  “Henry tell Kanana…” she pointed at the plate.

  “Food, plate, meat, fruit.” I supplied her with words which she eagerly repeated as I ate.

  When I had finished, she motioned me to follow. A door in the room led out onto a small balcony. Beside it, flowing from somewhere in the mountain’s core, water shot forth from the rock face, creating a waterfall and cascading down to a beautiful blue pool some ten feet below. Kanana jumped up onto the low stone wall that formed the balcony’s edge and then dived into the water below. She surface and then waved at me to follow her.

  “Is it deep enough?” I called, ignoring the fact that she had just dived in.

  She gave me another wave.

  “Water. Henry…” She pinched her nose.

  “I stink? Yes, I do.”

  I climbed up on the wall and with none of the gracefulness the jungle girl had shown, jumped into the water. It was much cooler than the muggy air, but not too cold. When I surfaced, I looked down. The water was clear enough for me to see my feet and the pool’s bottom below them, but a cloud of dirt and filth began darkening the water around me. I was embarrassed, but then I looked toward Kanana and found she was swimming in her own cloud as the mud that had coated her body as long as I had known her was washed away.

  I forgot about myself as I watched the transformation of this wild creature into a lovely young woman with perfect skin and dark brown hair. She had a cute button nose, and her widely spaced green eyes narrowed naturally into a squint when she smiled, as she did when she saw me watching her. Swimming over, she tugged at the sleeve of my shirt.

  “Off,” she said, and then gracefully swam away across the pool.

  I peeled off my outer clothes only to find my underclothes even more disgusting. Once the last of my things were removed, I submerged myself and began scrubbing as best I could with both hands.

  “Henry.”

  Kanana was back with a handful of fronds from some forest succulent plant. Squeezing them in her palm, she created a sudsy lather.

  “Soap.”

  “Soap,” she repeated as she pushed them toward me.

  Now armed with a primitive detergent, I went to work cleaning myself with gusto. I swam to a shallow part of the pool, and with that single handful of plants I was able to soap up my entire body including my hair and the beginnings of a beard. When I was done, I looked around to find the jungle girl gone, but I saw that the type of plants that had served as soap grew along the edge of the water. I swam out and collected my clothes and used several more handfuls of the fronds to soap them up, pounding them with a small stone to try and get them clean. After rinsing them, I set them out on the rocks in the sun to dry, noting unhappily that they were still grotesquely soiled.

  I had just gotten dressed again when Kanana returned. She was once again completely covered, with the exception of her eyes, in mud. Wet, it was the color of brown mustard.

  “I liked you better the other way,” I said.

  She tilted her head.

  “Mud,” I said, pointing to her arm.

  “Good mud,” she replied. “Keep… um, maggots fly away.”

  “Flies. Bugs.” I slapped the back of my neck. “Yes, mosquitoes.”

  “Come.”

  She led me just around a small copse of trees to where a bend in the little stream formed another pool, this one full of the thick yellowish brown mud. Though I did not follow the jungle girl’s example by immersing myself, I did apply a layer of the thick, gooey muck to the back of my neck and my ears. I was protected most everywhere else by clothing.

  I followed her back past the pool to a point near the bottom of the waterfall. Here a remarkable spiral stairway had been carved into the rock cliff face. Its worn surface was an indicator that it was very old—hundreds if not thousands of years. Still it was remarkably beautiful and very ornate. Beside the lowest step on this staircase was my trunk—the trunk that had saved my life by serving as a life raft. Unlocking and opening it, I gave a silent prayer of thanks that this was the trunk that had my clean clothing in it. My shaving kit, toothbrush, and three packages of Goldfarb’s medicated paper for the water-closet were also present, as was a spare pistol and a box of ammunition, a hunting knife, and several other items that might come in handy.

  “How did this get here? You didn’t carry this. It has to weigh a couple of hundred pounds.”

  “Kanana strong. Giwa very strong. Giwa carry.”

  “Who is Giwa?”

  “Kanana show new day.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” she carefully sounded out. “Kanana show tomorrow.”

  “Alright then. Shall we go up?”

  “No. Henry come.”

  We followed a small path around the base of the mountain about two hundred feet and then went down another, less impressive stairway and into the overgrown ruins of an ancient courtyard. Here were three mounds of dirt, carefully encircled by small stones. At the head of each was a cross, made of sticks tied together. These were obviously graves. Two were large enough to have held the bodies of adults, while the third was smaller. Kanana pointed to the smaller one.

  “Katarina.”

  So this was the last resting place of the Haldanes—Robert, Aleksandra, and Katarina.

  “Who buried them?” I asked. “Who put them in the ground?”

  “Kanana.”

  On one hand I felt great sadness for the Anglo-Russian family that had somehow found itself in this forbidding land and who had perished here. In their portrait, they had seemed such a pretty family. On the other hand, I was intrigued. If Kanana was not the grown up child of the Haldane’s, then just who was she? Where had she come from? Maybe she was the legendary jungle goddess.

  It took all my strength to make it back up to the base of the mountain fortress. Here the circular stairway led up to the room with the balcony, and I had just enough strength to make it to the top. I sat heavily down on a pile of grass that the jungle girl had designated as mine. It would be several more days before I fully regained all my strength, though being able to bathe, shave, and change into clean clothes did more to make me feel better than anything else. I threw my old clothes away as soon as I changed.

  It seems that while I had been recovering, I had been lying on what Kanana used as a kitchen table. This chamber was used as her larder. The broken fountain along one wall was fed by the same subterranean water source that created the waterfall. It was cool enough that it served as an icebox. Beside it she kept a large pile of assorted fruit. After our swim, she prepared a supper. She had one of the tiny Elizagaean deer butchered and cooked it over a small fire pit she had created on the balcony. Along with the fruit it made an excellent meal.

  “This is quite a place,” I said, waving my arm.

  Having finished my meal, I was sitting on my grass mat, while the jungle girl sat cross-legged directly in front of me.

  “Kanana’s place.”

  “No one else lives here?”

  “Henry Goode.”

  “Oh, well yes. Thank you. No one else?”

  “Giwa sometime. Kawunsa sometime.”

  “You mentioned Giwa before. Who is Kawunsa?”

  “Kawunsa zuhu. Kawunsa find Henry Goode… tell Kanana. Kanana come find Henry.”

  “Kawunsa found me and told you? You mean by the river, when I was injured. When you rescued me from the lion?”

  “Lion?”

  “Yes, um…” I made claws with my hands and growled as fiercely as I was able.

  Kanana laughed.

  “Zuhu i
s lion! Kawunsa is lion.”

  “You mean that the lion was Kawunsa? He told you… you can understand… he talks to you?”

  “Yes. Kanana is lion.”

  “No, Kanana is a girl.”

  “Kanana is lion. Henry Goode is girl.”

  I started to speak again, but she opened her mouth and let out a roar that sounded so much like that of a lion that I almost fell over. I must have looked as shocked as I felt, because she immediately burst into a very girlish giggle. I shook myself.

  “Okay then. Kanana is a lion. But Henry is um… a man.”

  * * * * *

  “I’m surprised that you can afford such extravagant dining Mr. Goode,” said Gertrude Quincy. “One would think you were trying to impress me.”

  “I picked this spot as much for my sake as yours. I’m relatively new to town, but I’ve already dined at the Union Oyster House and I wanted to try something new. I thought, considering your last name that you’ve probably dined at Durgin Park often.”

  “Actually, I’ve never been. I eat here at Locke-Ober fairly often.” She ran her hand along the Honduran mahogany rail beside the table. “Lamb or fish, do you think?”

  “I was thinking lobster.”

  She smiled and leaned across the table. “Lobster is always a good choice, isn’t it?”

  “I am very pleased you decided to join me.”

  “It’s only dinner, Mr. Goode. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m only dining because my usual date is out of town.”

  “Would that be William Otis?”

  “Yes of course. He has been courting me for over a year. It’s all but inevitable that I will marry him.”

  “Things change,” I said. “We may only be having dinner now. I’m certain that after spending a bit of time with me, you’ll be unable to resist my charms.”

  She laughed musically again. “Your confidence is definitely attractive, but I don’t anticipate our spending all that much time together after tonight.”