The Resurrection of Nat Turner, Part 2: The Testimonial (37 page)

“So when God called me to render judgment, to do His will, I obeyed.” Nat Turner allowed himself to smile.

“It is a sin to know the Master's will and refuse to obey it.” The teeth loosened by Trezvant's fists ached in his mouth. “I obeyed my Creator. I defended my family, my community.

“God's will called me to war, to render judgment, and, being a humble servant, I obeyed Him. Unwavering obedience.

“For thirty-one years I have submitted, prostrated myself before man. For thirty-one years I have debased myself, watching as people I love were violated and dishonored. I have obeyed.

“When God commanded, I obeyed. I am still obedient, even unto death.”

James Parker reached, touching Trezvant's arm so he would not leap again. “We must not kill him. Do not allow him to goad you. He is only a slave.”

“I know who you are, James Trezvant. I know what you've done, trading lives for money. What was your share?

“But I also know who I am. I am God's son. I am my Father's son. I am your brother. You expect our Father to forget about me? You expect me to forget who I am?”

Trezvant gripped the table until his knuckles were white. Then, slowly, the agitation left his face. A smile replaced it. “I have asked that you leave religion out of this interrogation, but since you insist, I will put a question to you.” Trezvant tented his fingers, raised one eyebrow, and struck a relaxed pose. “Slavery has existed throughout the world almost since the beginning of time. The Bible you speak of condones it. Slavery is part of life and common among mankind.”

Trezvant nodded, waiting for Nat Turner's response, and appeared certain he was bringing the game to a close.

N
at Turner saw the lie smiling from Trezvant's eyes. “You are proslavery men, except when the slave is you. When Barbary pirates capture you from the shores of Europe you are horrified. When the English bring their boots down on your necks, you are quick to take up arms. You support slavery of the rest of humanity, but not for those with white skin. You see yourselves as superior; you think yourselves equal with God.”

“We are not gods.” Trezvant looked at Parker and Edwards and chuckled. “Not quite. But God
has
made us to rule over you. We are naturally greater than you, and God created black men to serve us.”

It was hard for Nat Turner to breathe through his nose. No doubt—it was broken. “All sin is common among men. Murder is common. Stealing is common.”

Trezvant's eyes narrowed as he spoke. “But there are rules in your Bible,
Prophet
, for slavery. If God did not intend for there to be slaves, why would there be so much attention in the Bible to slavery?”

“Moses gave many laws about things that God hates. Moses gave rules for divorce, because it is common. Because there are divorce laws, do you say that God decrees we must all divorce?

“You lie, knowing that the law is clear: The penalty for manstealing is death. You attempt sleight of hand to sidestep the penalty. You mock God with this foolishness, and God will not be mocked!”

Trezvant was not ready to surrender. He did not blink but went on questioning. Trezvant shook the pages at Nat Turner. The congressman looked around the room at the other white men. “You read. Haven't you read the story of Noah in your Bible? God commanded us to be masters over you. Your servitude cannot be blamed on us; blame it on your God.”

T
he days were shortening now and the sun was beginning to fade. Nat Turner was tired, tired of answering questions, tired of the game. But he knew it would not be over until Trezvant felt he had won. Not until Nat Turner hanged.

From the corner of his eye, Nat Turner noticed a movement. He lifted his head to see through his swollen eyes. It was a small slave boy with sad eyes hiding behind a corner drape. He endured for the boy, for other boys like him, and for Riddick.

He touched a hand to his swollen jaw. He had come to Peter Edwards's to deliver a warning to the captors. But he endured to give hope to his son, to his sons and daughters. Nat Turner did not want the others to notice the boy. But Riddick and the nameless boy were worth whatever he might suffer.

It was clear Trezvant thought himself a fox. His smile broadened. “God cursed the black man for eternity. Haven't you read the story? The words are right there in your Bible. God said it, ‘Cursed be Canaan; a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren.' Niggers are cursed forever.” Trezvant's smile curled into smugness.

There was no doubt that Trezvant thought himself superior. He thought all power was in his hands. Nat Turner fought to hold the anger he felt.

“It was not God who uttered those words, but Noah,” Nat Turner corrected. “God blessed the whole family of man. Instead of offering thanks, Noah drank and cursed.” What kind of father would want to believe that his drunken, angry words would curse his grandson and descendants for all time? How could a righteous
man want to doom billions of people for one son's foolish act? “You describe a monster, not a loving father.

“You white slavery men write race into the story. You twist Noah's story. You say he is white and Ham black—it justifies your wickedness.

“And is God a genie, granting every drunken curse or wish without consideration of right or wrong? Would you make the Almighty a slave?” Nat Turner spit the words at Trezvant. “You are a liar, sir.

“Emmanuel walked among us, teaching the truth to untwist men's lies. He loved all mankind. He taught that none of us are masters; all of us are servants of God and one another. He taught that we should love God first, and love one another as brothers—even the least among us.”

Trezvant fingered the knife again, threatening. But it was too late. Nat Turner was free and he would speak the truth. He owed it to Cherry, he owed it to Riddick, to his mother, and to all the captives. He owed it to God.

“What Jesus taught does not suit you in your thirst for property and power. So you twist what He taught and scurry like rats to the Old Testament. You gnaw at it and tear away chunks to suit you.

“You lie on God, Emmanuel. You hang your greed and your hate on Him and lead others to hate the gospel.”

If he died, he would die with the truth pouring from him. “God did not grant Noah's wish. Each one of us is loved and blessed by God to multiply and prosper on this earth. It is still a covenant between God and all people. The rainbow is proof.

“Jesus came to walk the earth and remind us that we are all brothers—we are all welcomed in the kingdom—all nations, and kindreds, and peoples, and tongues.

“The evil you preach is in your heart and mind, not God's. Why force your wickedness on God?”

Trezvant bolted to his feet.

N
at Turner had been called names. He had been lied to. He had been beaten and cut before; there was nothing more to dread. Nat Turner looked into Trezvant's crazed eyes.

James Parker caught Trezvant about the wrist with his right hand and used his left arm to pull Trezvant back to his chair. Parker shook his head at Trezvant, as though to calm the older man.

Trezvant frowned, fuming like a dragon. He grabbed the crumpled pages, pressed on them to smooth them, crumpled them in anger again, and then smoothed them again. He exhaled. “I am a man of honor.” The muscles at his temples spasmed. “I will not allow a mere field hand, a nigger, a wild beast, to get the best of me.” He breathed several times, sheathed his knife, then nodded for Nat Turner to go on. He sneered. “Speak, Prophet.”

Nat Turner felt blood trickling down his neck. None of it mattered now. He looked toward the window. He would not see many more sunsets. “God did not curse us. He blessed
all
His children.

“God gave Noah and his sons, to all of mankind, the whole world with all of its beauty and delights. All authority and power. His commands were few: Take care of and replenish the earth, be fruitful and multiply, and do no harm to one another.

“The true lesson of Noah is that we are all brothers—fathers, sons, mothers, daughters—and that God has blessed us all equally. He loves us and has given us the whole world, everything.”

Trezvant clapped his hands, laughing at Nat Turner and mocking him. “Hallelujah, Preacher!” He laughed to Peter Edwards. “Where is the preacher's pulpit?”

Nat Turner continued, undeterred. “But instead of gratitude to
our Father, instead of singing God's praises, we demand payment from our brothers and sons for small debts. Instead of gratitude, we want to steal what belongs to our brothers. Like Noah, we are drunk on the wine of this world.

“Yet God loves us. Still God keeps His covenant. God remains true; He offers His blessing to all His children. The proof is the rainbow, the sign of His promise, a sign seen all over the earth.”

Trezvant applauded. He stood and bowed. “Listen to the preacher!” He whistled. “Someone get the nigger a frock coat and a collar!” Trezvant laughed.

“You are hard-hearted and refuse to hear. You think that God is made in
your
image. God is a spirit, but what will you do if He looks like me? Will you turn from Jesus if He has hair like mine, lips like mine, skin like mine?”

Trezvant doubled over with laughter, looking around at the other white men. “He really is mad! A coon god?”

“Will you forsake Him? If He is like us on Judgment Day, will you be frightened? Make excuses? Will you repent and grieve for what you have done?”

Trezvant sat back in his chair, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. “You have no argument with me, Prophet. Your argument is with the Bible. I know what the words say, they say that you and your kind are slaves and nothing more.”

Parker's brow was furrowed. He scratched his head.

“You read something that is not there. Open your heart. Open your eyes. You have been deceived. You twist God's Word. There is nothing in the Bible that says Noah looked like you—with straight yellow hair, white skin, and blue eyes. The men who wrote the Bible looked nothing like you. They were from my mother's part of the world.”

Trezvant would not relent. “If God loves you so much, then why are dark people slaves all over the world?”

“Because you have told this lie all over the world, passed like a disease from heart to heart! All over the world, men with wickedness
in their hearts use the same lie you are telling to justify what they do—stealing, raping, twisting God's truth.

“Noah was meant to teach us. He was not created to be your hero or excuse for torturing others who are not like you. God is father to all. We are all created in His image.”

Trezvant's smile froze. His eyes glittered. “He is not God to niggers! God is not a nigger! And if He was, I wouldn't serve Him!” His stare was feverish. “I would as soon curse Him and cast the Bible into the sea!” He sneered. “Ridiculous.”

Parker flushed but said nothing.

Nat Turner looked at Trezvant, Parker, and Peter Edwards. “You have lived the lie so long that almost the very elect accept it as truth. The lie lives in your hearts. The real truth is buried. Blood is on your hands.”

Nat Turner looked at the young ginger-haired man, searching for light in his eyes. “I sense, Mr. Parker, that you have good intentions, you still have a spirit that can discern right and wrong. You still have a living heart beating within you.” He nodded toward Trezvant. “You have heard Mr. Trezvant's sentiments—he is ready to curse God, to curse our Father. Will you follow him to hell?”

N
at Turner ran through the forest, holding his son's hand. Laughing, they came to a quiet clearing and rested. They searched the brush for sweet berries, finally finding some ripe blackberries.

As they ate, Nat Turner pointed out birds to Riddick. “Listen to their calls.” He pointed to two nearby. “There is a blue jay. And over there, an indigo bunting.” The tiny bird flitted about, showing off its plumage, and flew away.

He took his son's hand and then led him to his fishing stream in the Great Dismal Swamp. “Listen to the forest,” he told Riddick, and they walked deeper within.

Nat Turner had hoped to one day share his Hebron, his place of refuge, with his son. He had hoped that one day they would be free together. He hoped that the captors would repent and there would be no need for war.

When he was discouraged, when he was tired, the dream gave him comfort. But that was before the eclipse, before the indigo sun. Before the war began. Before he surrendered.

Now he sat at Peter Edwards's table looking across at James Parker. The younger man had been silent for most of the inquisition, but now Parker's chin trembled and his face strained white as his knuckles. “Nat Turner, you accuse us of intending to do harm.”

Nat Turner read hurt and indignation on James Parker's face. He smiled at Parker. The young man looked to be the same age as he. In another life, in another time, they might have been friends. “You are angry with me, but I say to you, thank God for those who trouble you. Be thankful for the thorns in your side. Fear the day
when you no longer tolerate those who speak against you. Fear the day when you no longer feel at all.”

James Parker was insistent. “I have no malicious intent. I intend to harm no one.”

“You do not think evil, you only do evil.”

“My family is good to you people! We are criticized for being too good to you! I won't stand here and allow you to dishonor us!” Parker continued his defense. “Perhaps life would be better for all without slavery. But who would farm the land? I won't allow you to accuse my family of evil. We intend no harm. We have done all we can do! What do you want from us?”

“The thief who steals without regret is still a thief. Your ignorance to the harm you cause does not mean that you are faultless. Right in front of your eyes are murderers, rapists, sadists, and thieves. You are among them, but you don't see it, you don't want to see. Pray to God that He will help you see.