Sweetsmoke (19 page)

    Fierce
as he moved, his silver shafts resound.

    Breathing
revenge, a sudden night he spread,

    And
gloomy darkness roll'd about his head.

    The
fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow,

    And
hissing fly the feather'd fates below.

    On
mules and dogs the infection first began;

    And
last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man.

    For
nine long nights, through all the dusky air,

    The
pyres, thick-flaming, shot a dismal glare.

    Cassius
was amazed. This was Apollo. A god, breathing revenge. Using his deadly bow to
shoot vengeful arrows. Infecting the Greeks. Cassius struggled to wrap his mind
around what he had read, fearing that he had somehow misunderstood, or that the
words might rearrange themselves on the page and reveal that he had been taken
in by a magnificent jest. Apollo, a god, had attacked the Greeks, spreading
infection
on behalf of a slave.
For nine days. He attacked dogs and
mules and then men. Breathing revenge. For a
slave!

    Cassius
sat back and considered this astonishing thing.

    It
had been clear to him for some time that the God of the Bible was in favor of
slavery. The masters spoke of it, and quoted the Bible to prove it. Both white
and black preachers preached it, admonishing the hands to abide by the will of
the masters so that God would be pleased with them. And what was it in the
Bible that exhorted this position? As he understood it, it began with the story
of Ham, son of Noah, Ham who was supposed to be father of all blacks, Ham who
had committed the crime of seeing his own father naked. Cassius had read and
reread that portion of the Bible and had been outraged to discover that the
evidence for Ham's blackness was not on the page. It appeared to Cassius that
the planters had manufactured this concept for no other reason than to explain
Cassius's lack of worth. He did not even try to understand how seeing your
father naked could be a crime so heinous as to condemn an entire race of human
beings. It would take a white man to understand that.

    He
had then looked for other Biblical evidence that might offer whites a reason to
believe God was on the side of the planters. The most obvious appeared in a
passage he had memorized, Ephesians 6:5,
Servants, be obedient to those who
are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in sincerity
of heart, as to Christ.
That passage was read aloud in sermons, word for
word. As a boy, Cassius had liked the words, not fully understanding them but
warmly believing that he was somehow protected by the words. Even as a man, on
the rare occasions when he attended services, Cassius would unconsciously mouth
the words along with the preacher. But Cassius no longer needed to accept white
man's sermons on faith, because Cassius could read. A further examination of
Ephesians suggested a very good reason for the planters to wish to keep blacks
from that vile habit. The white preachers may have read Ephesians 6:5
accurately and aloud, but they did not read aloud any later passages from
Ephesians, conveniently ignoring Ephesians 6:9,
And to you, masters, do the
same things to them, giving up threatening, knowing that your own Master also
is in heaven, and there is no partiality with Him.

    Perhaps
God's intention was not that blacks were meant to be slaves. And yet, when all
was said and done, slaves they were. As they were incessantly informed, God was
all-powerful and all- seeing. If God was all-powerful, then it followed that
God preferred blacks to be slaves. Cassius drummed his fingers, another thought
stealing in. Perhaps the power of God was controlled by the white man, and they
had bent God's intentions to accomplish white needs. He let that thought go,
not knowing how the idea that God could be manipulated might apply to his
oppressed life, as that suggested that if he knew a way to contact God, he (and
He) might remedy the situation. Certainly he had heard the argument that
slavery was their test on earth, and when life came to an end and they reached
that other place, they would be rewarded. But no white man seemed inclined to
suggest that he would happily share Heaven with his black slaves. Cassius had
often wondered how his life of bondage would work to his ultimate benefit.

    
The
Iliad
gave him an alternative.
The Iliad
presented a different god
altogether. Apollo could not be ignored, not even by white men. Apollo, with
his vengeful bow, actually freed slaves. This brought Cassius a small smile.

    He
realized with a shock that the feelings he had for the God of the Bible were
similar to his feelings for Hoke Howard: dread and relief. Dread because of the
absolute power Hoke had over him, relief when any approval or kind gesture
allowed him to feel somehow worthy and therefore hopeful. Finally he wondered
if the God of the Bible also experienced crushing responsibility.

    Cassius
stood up and felt a string of spider silk across his forehead. He tried to wipe
it away, but after his hand had crossed his brow, he still felt the tiny pull.
He wiped again, this time with more determination, and now felt spider silk on
his ears and across the backs of his hands. Suddenly he was doing a childish
dance, rapidly brushing both hands from his neck to his nose to clean the
feeling off his skin. And when the feeling was finally gone, in the ensuing
moment of quiet he thought about how Quashee risked her reputation by spying to
learn about him, and he thought about Emoline who risked punishment to teach a
slave to read. He thought about Apollo bringing plague to free a slave, and he
thought about the strange fact that the life of an enslaved black was worth
more than the life of a freed black, and he knew as he had known for a number
of days now that he would hunt for her killer. It was the danger of recognizing
that he had a choice. Friday he would return to town without an official pass
to see who might have an appointment to meet Emoline the spy.

    By
Thursday Cassius worked alone in the clearing, building a roof over the hog's
shed. Groomsmen, brought up from the barns to tend sheep and cows, idled on the
far side of the meadow in shade as the livestock shifted and grazed in the sun.
Cassius had been sorry to see Joseph return to the fields.

    He
noticed a crossbar on the fence that hung lower than the others, and he felt
with his hand and knew that one of his crew had driven nails that had missed
the vertical stake. The wood was held in place by one nail. Cassius propped the
crossbar with a piece of scrap wood, dropped to his knees, and rolled himself
carefully over onto his back, gently and slowly sliding over the grass under
the bar, nails in his mouth, hammer in his hand. He babied his back into
position and drove nails in. Points of grass stuck into him through his shirt,
pricked his neck and the back of his head, and the rough underside of wide grass
blades scraped the soft skin behind his ears. He came carefully out from under
the fence to discover someone standing over him. Cassius rose quickly to his
feet, hammer in his fist, without concern for his back which chafed hard
against his shirt.

    Hoke
Howard ran his hand along the wood of the fence.

    "Fine
work, Cassius."

    Thank
you, Master Hoke, said Cassius.

    "Truly,
quite fine," said Hoke. "I have always admired your attention to
detail. Even in something as hard-cast and utilitarian as a fence."

    It's
nearly done, said Cassius.

    "Yes
yes, there is no rush, Cassius, get it right, that is fine with me, of course,
fine with me."

    Cassius
looked at him warily, letting his grip on the hammer lessen. Concerned that he
might drop it, he set it on the fence's crossbar. In the sunlight, he saw that
Hoke Howard's left eye was milky with a cataract, that the skin under his eyes
was soft and spongy and crisscrossed by telling lines. He considered Hoke's
expression and thought he detected sadness, even a longing.

    "Quite
the spot, is it not? Lovely."

    Cassius
looked around and nodded.

    "I
should come here more often. I should visit all my lands. I imagine I might
find many such places. Peaceful, yes. Francis Jarvis's son-in-law would have a
miserable time finding it, but I would gamble that he does not know to look for
it. And I never bet more than I can afford to lose." He paused, taking in
the sprawl of his land, his chest full of the pride of ownership.
"Peaceful. Perhaps that is what I will do, take a few hours in the
mornings away from the shackles of business and wander, appreciate my lands.
Perhaps one day you will join me."

    Whatever
you say, Master Hoke, said Cassius.

    Hoke
lost his smile and seemed almost disappointed. "We were friends once, were
we not, Cassius?"

    Yes
sir, said Cassius.

    "Growing
up, you were such a friendly boy. How I did enjoy your company."

    The
same, sir, said Cassius.

    "We
all grow up, I suppose."

    Cassius
heard the wistful note in Hoke's voice and knew, for the second time in little
more than a week, that an opening was granted to him.

    A
question, said Cassius. This is the moment, he thought, take it now. He
searched for his best subservient voice, but was unable to conjure it as
scrupulously as he would have liked.

    "Certainly,
anything, my boy," said Hoke.

    Your
son, Master John-Corey. You miss him?

    "I
do, I miss my son terribly. God help me, I miss both of my sons, although with any
amount of luck, Jacob will return to us," said Hoke. "Would that my
legacy will return."

    But
Master John-Corey, he's your oldest.

    "Yes,
John-Corey was my oldest."

    You
taught him your wisdom?

    "Well,"
laughed Hoke, "I did what I could."

    But
then you trusted him, after?

    Hoke
gazed off, down the meadow to the darkness of the forest.

    "He
was such an impulsive child growing up, but I am certain you remember that as
well. Such a scamp. Perhaps that is why it took me years to recognize the
competent businessman he had become. I gather that means I proved that you can
teach an old dog new tricks, did I not? I refer to myself," he said with a
smile. "Yes, when all is said and done, I have to conclude that my son
grew to be a circumspect and considerate man. I was uncertain about his choice
of spouse, but Stephanie was devoted to him, I certainly could never fault her
for that. There were times, I must say, when I was concerned that she reflected
John-Corey's true feelings about me, but away with that, that is but a fool's
errand, to attempt to deduce the motives and secret hearts of our
children." He stopped for a moment, as if contemplating the meaning of his
words. "I invited her to Sweetsmoke after his death, but she preferred to
return to her own parents in Lynchburg."

    So
Master John-Corey made good choices?

    "Yes,"
he said hesitantly. "Yes. I look back on the things about which we clashed
and realize he may well have had prudent reasons for making his decisions. I
still may disagree, but in the all, yes, John-Corey made good choices."

    Cassius
nodded as if something had been made clear to him.

    "This
line of questioning is curious, Cassius. What brings it on?"

    Nothing,
Master Hoke; like you said, curious.

    "I
think not. You have something particular on your mind."

    Well,
sir, I remember a story about his personal servant coming all the way home
after Master John-Corey died in that battle.

    "Lewis,
yes, returned from Manassas. I believe he was two weeks on the road."

    He
was a good one, doing that for the family.

    "Yes,
he was. Pity about him being sold."

    And
Master John-Corey had that thing in his will, about keeping two other people
together.

    "Beauregard
and Quashee I believe are their names."

    You
think that was Master John-Corey making good choices?

    "I
am not certain I follow you."

    Well,
sir, Master Hoke, if you think Master John-Corey was a smart man, then maybe
one of his smart decisions was for his people to come to Sweetsmoke. If Master
John-Corey thought they were good at his place, maybe he thought they would be
good in his father's place.