Chapter 85.

Through the window, Nat Turner could see the early evening blue of the sky-turquoise blending into indigo. All the lives, all the suffering had led to this. He pleaded with the captors for mercy for his people and for themselves. The fate of the nation rested in their hands.

Things might have been different if the captors would listen, if their cold hearts melted. He might have sat beside his son, fishing now in the pond. Nat Turner closed his eyes and imagined Ridd.i.c.k smiling up at him. He wrapped an arm around Ridd.i.c.k's shoulders.

Whoa! His son yelled when his pole tugged, a fish on the end of the line.

Nat Turner opened his eyes. That was all a dream. There would be no fishing. He had been sent to deliver this message. There was a family debt he owed.

"You worship white skin, not G.o.d. You teach the lie to others. If they are not light, they hate themselves; they feel forsaken by G.o.d.

"Today you called me prophet. So I warn you like Ezekiel, like Jonah, like Moses. Today I speak judgment against Southampton, against Virginia, and against this nation. G.o.d has heard and seen your wickedness and He knows the coldness of your hearts. Our voices, along with those of Nineveh and the Queen of the South, speak against you.

"Turn! It is your only hope! Repent and set my people free!"

Trezvant giggled. "O Moses, where are your plagues? Where are the locusts? Where is the b.l.o.o.d.y river?"

"We are slaves, dressed in tatters. We have no uniforms or flags. But we are part of the Lord's army. G.o.d's glory is our banner. G.o.d loves us all, but He will not endure your wickedness against us forever. War will come!

"G.o.d will make black men stand side by side with you. Children of Africa, children of our two continents-Africa and America will become leaders among you. 'Princes shall come out of Egypt; Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto G.o.d.'"

"The only thing a n.i.g.g.e.r can do for me is tend my fields or shine my boots. No n.i.g.g.e.r will ever lead me." Trezvant mugged for Nat Turner and flapped his arms like a chicken. He bugged out his eyes, like a minstrel, and began to sing.

And wen Zip c.o.o.n our President shall be, He make all de little c.o.o.ns sing possum up a tree; O how de little c.o.o.ns will dance an sing, Wen he tie dare tails togedder, cross de lim dey swing.

Nat Turner had seen it all before. "Would you choose whiteness over obedience to G.o.d? Whiteness over holiness?"

"Call it what you like, no black jig will ever be king over me. All your heads will be on poles before I let one of you be head over me."

"As great as you are, my brothers, you are not greater than G.o.d. If you choose to lose your lives rather than grant our freedom, it is your choice!"

"Never!"

"Then you will hand this lie down to your children as inheritance. Like the family of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, your children will no longer recognize their sin. They will wallow in sin, turning from mercy, turning from repentance. What G.o.d calls wrong, they will call right. They will point at evil in other places and not recognize it in themselves.

"As G.o.d blesses those they despise, they will be bitter, full of rage. They will be angry when G.o.d shows the world that your truth is a lie. In the end, whiteness will rule them. It will choose who they love and where they live. It will choose where they pray, their family and friends. The idol will control the choices they make.

"You will leave your children a bitter inheritance. In your hands is the power to stop it all now. Look to G.o.d and turn."

Chapter 86.

Trezvant's face blanched. He looked wildly around the room at the others.

Nat Turner encouraged himself. This was the trial that mattered. He must find strength. He must finish. There was a debt he owed. "This is only a warning, only the beginning. Brother will take arms against brother and fathers against their own sons. You will slaughter yourselves. The rivers will flow red, blood will drip from the corn. The battle is already raging in the heavens. I have seen it with my own eyes. Death will come again to the Tidewater. It will spread across Virginia and across this nation. I have seen it.

"In the end, the captives will be free. Whether freedom comes now or after much bloodshed is your choice. It is for you to decide whether you will walk like Pharaoh in your arrogance or humble yourselves like the Great King Xerxes."

Trezvant mocked Nat Turner, waving his hands in the air. "O great prophet, spare me! O great One, have mercy on me! Save all of us poor white people from the darkies!" Trezvant shook his head and stuck out his tongue as he laughed. "I am going to laugh as you hang, n.i.g.g.e.r! My wife and I are going to dance when they hang you from that tree!"

Nat Turner would not allow himself to be distracted. "You will bequeath d.a.m.nation to your children. Their blood will be on your hands. Look to G.o.d, my brothers, you only have to turn." He was brought to these sh.o.r.es for this moment. He would not die with their blood on his hands. "Turn from your evil ways. Live!"

Even as Nat Turner spoke the p.r.o.nouncement there was a bitter taste in his mouth. Live? Life for them, forgiveness for them after all the people they had murdered, after all they'd stolen, after all the broken hearts? Mercy? Nat Turner tasted bile.

He had been spit up on the sh.o.r.es of a foreign land among people who hated him and others like him. He would never see his homeland. Never see his grandparents or his sister. He would never smell the wildflowers of Ethiopia or see the green hills. These people, people who stole land that did not belong to them, who stole men and had no sorrow for it-these were the people that G.o.d wanted to pardon? Was no one beyond G.o.d's mercy?

How could the Lord shower mercy on people like Trezvant? Nat Turner looked at the proud man sitting before him. How could people like Trezvant and Nathaniel Francis escape punishment simply by repenting-simply by uttering a few words? Simply by feeling sorrow in their hearts for their deeds? After all they'd done? It was not fair.

But G.o.d was Father to them all. He was the Father of Cain and Abel. He was Father of the just and the unjust, of Nathan and John Clarke, and loved them both.

Nat Turner would do what he had promised; he would be obedient-his would be the voice that offered the nation an opportunity to repent. "G.o.d is the G.o.d of mercy, your Father as well as mine. It is He who sends me.

"Congressman, you have desired to be a great man, to have the nation's attention on you. So, like King Xerxes, like Pharaoh, the fate of the nation is in your hands. You have the power to speak to the people, to the governor, to persuade them to turn. There is still time.

"Virginia boasts that she leads the South and the whole nation. If you turn, if you set the captives free, the others will follow. It is in your hands to stop the coming war. You have the chance to turn the nation. If you do not, the judgment is against you and against this nation, and the blood will be on your hands.

"You stand at a crossroads today, and it is for you two judges to warn the people. If you choose the way of Pharaoh, you will bring judgment on this nation, on yourselves, and on your children. This is the Word of the Lord: 'He that stealeth a man, and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death.' This is the right and sure judgment of the Lord!

"Open your hearts, open your eyes. 'He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword.'

"Only repentance can change your destiny. Your fate is in your hands!" It was done now. It was finished.

Trezvant looked at James Parker. "We rushed here for nothing. He is a bloodthirsty maniac."

Remembering his wealthy host, Trezvant rubbed his hands together as though he was finished and motioned to Peter Edwards. "I am done with this scoundrel. Take him away." He looked down at his gla.s.s. "I am famished. Bring me more refreshment."

Chapter 87.

The sheriff arrived as darkness dawned, along with twenty-five strong and armed guards; they chained Nat Turner hand and foot. The heavy iron clanked as he walked and tortured his skin as he stumbled down the road.

His head ached. Except for his own blood, his mouth was dry.

Patches of cold night with yellow-flamed torches. Fists and jeers. Familiar faces turned strange. Words and fists pounding him. Women's hat pins; who knew they could be so painful? On his knees, then up again. Heads on poles. Knees on hard ground. Swollen eyes. Threats, kicks.

Dragged into houses along the way, his face was pressed to their souvenirs. Fingers without nails, legs without feet, heads without eyes and ears. How much worse would they do to him? The Road with No Name. Black Head Sign Post Road. Jerusalem.

"Devil!" "Murderer!" "Thief!" "Give him to us!"

Slammed against cold metal bars, against rough, moldy concrete. He was alone except for the hands, the voices, angry steel. Outside the jailhouse, crowds shouted his name. Kill him!

THERE WERE NOT many visitors to his cell, other than those who came to beat him. There was only his lawyer: William Parker. "There is not much I can do." There was nothing, really, that Parker could do. It was all in G.o.d's hands.

At night he dreamed of Cherry dancing among the moonflowers. He touched her hair; he kissed her lips and held her to him. In the blue-black night, underneath the stars, the flowers glowed and the moonlight kissed her eyes and teeth. Suddenly she pulled away from him. Aren't you angry with Him, your G.o.d?

Nat Turner didn't want to argue; he wanted to remember everything about Cherry and to hold her. He is your G.o.d, too.

Look what He has done to you. Look at our miserable lives! I know you are surprised at me. I know you are a holy man, better than me, and probably angry with me for saying this, but G.o.d took you away from me, the only man I ever loved. The only man who ever loved me. The only man who told me I was beautiful. Cherry wept then, and in the moonlight, her tears glistened on her face.

Cherry had stepped too far away, too far away for him to touch her. He told us He would send us forth as sheep among wolves, Cherry.

I don't want to hear this, Nat. I don't want to hear it, Nathan!

She and his mother were the only ones who called him Nathan. The sound of his name in her mouth was like rose petals brushing his neck. Some of us are sheep in our family of wolves, some of us are sheep working among wolves, and some of us are sheep walking through a nation of wolves. They seek to devour us, but we must still love, Cherry. Some of us will lose our lives, lose our loves.

But it is not fair, husband!

G.o.d is loving and just.

How can you say that? Look at you! Look at the chains! Look what they've done to you! How could a loving and just G.o.d allow that?

As soon as she said the words, Nat Turner felt the weight of the chains around his ankles and wrists. The iron bars between the two of them seemed colder. He felt the soreness, the ache from his head to his feet. The dried scabs around his mouth made it difficult to speak.

The silver moon made a halo in her hair. Evil men did this to you! Is that love? How can that be just?

He wanted to hold her. G.o.d knew us before we were born into this world. I believe He asked me to leave my heavenly home to come here. I believe He asked the same of you, of all of us, even if we are only here for a moment. I believe He told us we were needed here.

A lot of good we have done!

I believe He told us ahead of time that we would be sheep among wolves and that we would suffer to help others. She was so beautiful, his Cherry. She was a princess in the moonlight. I believe He told you there would not be much joy for you here-no fine dresses, no great houses-but He promised you flowers. He looked down at her feet covered in moonflowers; he smelled the honeysuckle. He looked up at the dark blue sky. Stars and the moon. I believe He promised you me.

That promise is broken!

I think He promised that I would sing to you.

Another broken promise. You never sing.

And I believe He told you that I would need you-that you would be my joy, that you would make my life bearable. He wanted to remember everything about her-her hands, her feet, her smile, her frown. I believe you agreed to come, Cherry. Even knowing that you would suffer. He heard her weeping. Her shoulders shook; she cried from her belly. I believe you agreed to come for me and to bear my son. I believe you agreed to come to help the world, to bring joy to the world.

But who have I helped, Nathan? What good has it all been? She came closer. Pressing herself against the cold bars, stretching, hoping to touch him, even if only with the tips of her fingers. Reaching. Reaching.

I agreed to come, Cherry. He told me that I would be beaten for His name's sake. Hated. I believe that He told me that I would be heartbroken, hated by the people I loved. He whispered her name. But not you, Cherry. Not you. He tried to smile.

I don't want you to die, Nathan.

He promised me a few joys-my mother, my son, the books.... He promised me you, the love of my life, your love. He choked. The tears surprised him, sudden and stinging. It was hard to talk through the tears. We all agreed to come. Don't you remember? Hoping we could make it better. Out of love; love for Him and love for them, even the ones who don't love us back. Don't you remember? We have to remember, Cherry.

We agreed to come. This world is so cruel and so hard, some only have the heart to come for a short time, just a flash, a hope. Some only have the heart to come close, but not to stay. But you and I agreed to come, to live in this world and sacrifice everything-just in hopes that we might help one person-sad Charlotte, Mother Easter, or maybe even Nathaniel Francis. Knowing that we will return to a better home.

All our lives matter, all our comings to this world. Sheep among wolves... it matters. He was quiet for a moment. He searched her face. He wanted to remember everything. I could not have done it without you. She brushed her feet through the flowers. He sang to her.

O Shenandoah, I love your daughter Away, you rolling river O Shenandoah, I love your daughter Away, I'm bound away I could not have done it without you. His voice failed him. He tried again. Tell my son... tell my son I did my best. Tell him I love him.

He knows.

I did my best. It was a beginning. Tell him the truth.

He knows.

We died as men. Tell him that we are all heroes!

I will, my love.

Away, I'm bound away Cross the wide Missouri.

Chapter 88.

Sat.u.r.day, November 5th, 1831. Nat Turner repeated the date to himself. Sat.u.r.day, November 5th, 1831. As the armed guard marched him into the courtroom, he looked at the faces-lies and anger in their eyes, countenances full of poison.

They were all slavery men and women, but maybe a tiny bit of mercy would still save them-a pig's foot, a shriveled potato, or an old, torn blanket.

The people screamed and cursed at him, and they cried. They would take him away and hang him themselves. There was no need for a trial; they already knew the truth. Claws grabbed at him. The judges ordered twenty-five more armed guards so the people wouldn't carry him away.

Nat, alias Nat Turner, v. the Commonwealth of Virginia. The courtroom was crowded, packed even with people from out of town. They had set extra chairs in place for the visiting judges. Ten judges.

And ye shall be brought before governors and kings for My sake, for a testimony against them and the Gentiles.

There were no black faces in the room-at least none that were not pa.s.sing as white-no Negro guards, no one. The armed guards around him were three men deep on all sides, except his front, which faced the judges.

Benjamin Phipps, invisible in the throng, was pressed against the back wall. Nat Turner saw his brother John Clarke Turner pointing at him, sitting near Nathaniel Francis.