Just For You
“The Five Cacao Beans”
by Joanne Lamond
One night in 1690, thirteen year old Tomas
crept along the streets of San Agustin. He
skirted the guardhouse near the fort and
slipped down a foul-smelling alleyway. He
stepped around watery piles of slop cast
from nearby huts. At the end of the lane
stood a small house built in the native
fashion. Its walls and roof were in good
repair, its yard swept clean.
“Enter,” a woman said in Spanish. “I cannot help if you remain outside.”
Tomas ducked through the doorway. The sweet smell of citrus cleansed his nostrils of the street odors. A low fire warmed the room.
“You are young to be out after dark,” the woman said. “There must be a great need for you to visit me.”
The Timucuan boy stared at the old woman. She was not of his people. But, in this great town of many, what did that matter? For him, she was the most important person of all.
He studied the interior of her home. Herbs hung from the roof poles. Jars sat on shelves nailed to the wall. Reed baskets were placed neatly on cedar planks raised above the dirt floor. Against one wall was the woman's sleeping platform. A smudge pot beneath it was the source of the citrus aroma.
“Enter,” a woman said in Spanish. “I cannot help if you remain outside.”
Tomas ducked through the doorway. The sweet smell of citrus cleansed his nostrils of the street odors. A low fire warmed the room.
“You are young to be out after dark,” the woman said. “There must be a great need for you to visit me.”
The Timucuan boy stared at the old woman. She was not of his people. But, in this great town of many, what did that matter? For him, she was the most important person of all.
He studied the interior of her home. Herbs hung from the roof poles. Jars sat on shelves nailed to the wall. Reed baskets were placed neatly on cedar planks raised above the dirt floor. Against one wall was the woman's sleeping platform. A smudge pot beneath it was the source of the citrus aroma.
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“You are the herbolaria, Rossa?” the boy
asked.
The woman chuckled. “You know I am or you would not be here.”
The boy took a deep breath. “I need five cacao beans,” he said.
The woman whispered a word Tomas did not understand. She took a step forward.
“Who is sick?” she asked.
“My sister, Luiza, grows weaker each day. I remember my grandfather, my itora, would make a drink from the ground cacao beans for strength.”
Rossa raised an eyebrow. “Cacao beans are very dear,” she said. “What have you to offer for them?”
“Nothing,” Tomas said. “I have come to ask what you will take for the beans. I heard a sailor at the wharf say three beans can buy a turkey egg in New Spain. I would give you a whole turkey for five beans.”
“Do you have a turkey?” Rossa asked. “No, you have nothing. Did you not say so? Besides, I do not need a turkey and we are not in New Spain. We are in la Florida.”
The woman chuckled. “You know I am or you would not be here.”
The boy took a deep breath. “I need five cacao beans,” he said.
The woman whispered a word Tomas did not understand. She took a step forward.
“Who is sick?” she asked.
“My sister, Luiza, grows weaker each day. I remember my grandfather, my itora, would make a drink from the ground cacao beans for strength.”
Rossa raised an eyebrow. “Cacao beans are very dear,” she said. “What have you to offer for them?”
“Nothing,” Tomas said. “I have come to ask what you will take for the beans. I heard a sailor at the wharf say three beans can buy a turkey egg in New Spain. I would give you a whole turkey for five beans.”
“Do you have a turkey?” Rossa asked. “No, you have nothing. Did you not say so? Besides, I do not need a turkey and we are not in New Spain. We are in la Florida.”
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