by Marlon James
Miss Isobel screaming for her mother. She faint again and Massa Humphrey hold her like a baby. Robert Quinn whisper something and Massa Humphrey look up right away at Lilith.—Come here, you, he say. Lilith gulp. She move to them slow, feeling her bare foot cut through the grass. Robert Quinn lookin’ at Lilith, then whisper to Massa Humphrey again.
—Lilith? he say.
—Yes, massa.
—Of Montpelier.
—Yes, massa.
—Explain what happened here. At once, girl!
Lilith don’t say nothing.
—I said speak up, damn you.
—Me . . . me don’t know, me don’t know, sah.
—You don’t know? You don’t bloody know? What are you, the daftest nigger cow God ever let loose to torment me? Let me enlighten you, Lilith, there’s a little fire raging behind you, or are you blind as well as stupid?
—Yes, massa.
—How did this happen?
—Me . . . me was milking the cow, massa. Me didn’t even know the house be burnin’, sah, till me come back.
—You didn’t even know.
—Humphrey, it’s quite possible that—
—I’m capable of asking my own questions, Quinn. So, Miss Lilith—
—Me try to run in for the pickneys, massa.
—Don’t you dare interrupt me, you damn . . . Did anyone . . . Couldn’t you have... Had none of you the heart to . . . oh, Jesus. Kill us, that’s what you wish to do. You wish death on us all!
—Humphrey, Robert Quinn say and touch him shoulder. Massa slap him hand off. Quinn stare down massa but then look at Lilith. She wish down to the bone that she didn’t just jump. She know her jaw drop. She know it and he seen it.
—And yer sleeve? Did ye hurt yerself?
—Me was . . . me was trying... the pickneys—me was trying to save the pickneys but board fall ’pon me, sah.
Quinn go towards Lilith but Massa Humphrey stop him.
—Oh, for God’s sake, Robert. We have other priorities than a bloody nigger!
Quinn turn away but look at her again. Lilith feel like he might rip off her clothes and throw her into the fire when he see nothing. She walk away backward and stumble. She get up and run off.
By evening nearly every planter, attorney, infantryman, priest and clerk in the county pay visit to the Coulibre house. Terrible business, some say. The preacher pray. Massa Humphrey send Miss Isobel off to Montpelier and give the mens instructions for Homer.—You stay, he say to Lilith when he see her heading for the cart.
The wall was stone and they stand firm though they black with soot. Everything else burn to nothing, including the roof. Some parts still burnin’ but most was now ash and rubble. The little fire that left in the corners and under the floorboard hiss. In what was the sitting room, half of a red chaise longue stand out around black and grey. Things that use to have shape in the world the day before is just mound of ash now. The bathtub fall from the top floor to the bottom. Robert Quinn see it first and step through the rubble to look closer. He cover him mouth quick. Massa Humphrey walking over but Quinn jump in the way.
—Humphrey, there are things ye can’t unsee once you’ve seen ’em, Quinn say. Massa Humphrey step past. Quinn grab him hand, but the massa push him away.
—I’m not a goddamn boy, Robby, he say. But when he see what left of Massa Roget, him legs get weak and he almost fall. Robert Quinn hold on to him tight until he done throw up.
Matraca wouldn’t leave the pickneys so she dead too. Bessy too old, so by the time she could wake up to feel herself burnin’, she burn to death too. Francine, the mistress lady in waiting, was not on the premises but didn’t get far. A soldier see her just as she turn her carriage around to ride away. They ride her down and demand to know where she was trying to get to with the mistress’ carriage. Then they beat her, even though she scream that she was coming, not going. They round up Habakkuk and the niggermens too, saying they was trying to rape Miss Isobel. More hour later the commander of the militia say they suspect that Francine was part of the plot and was trying to run away. People beginning to wonder how come neither the massa nor the mistress could save themself. They wonder how come nobody even try to run for the door and why Massa Roget body was in a bathtub.
For the next two day they strip all them niggers naked, wet they skin and whip them with the cowhide. They whip Francine leg first and she scream and bawl, then her back, then her belly. They push her down on the floor and pin her with they boots. She bawling that she didn’t do nothing. The commander say she should be a credit to her race and stop being a lying nigger cunt. The commander have the soldiers light corn husk and scrape off the burnin’ bits so that fire rain down on her belly, face and titties. Francine still screaming that is not she! Is not she! So they heat a poker and start to brand all over her body. When she still didn’t talk they spread her leg wide and brand her pussy. People at the far end of Spanish Town hear the girl scream. When she could finally talk, she beg for mercy for all her wrongdoing. Then they do the same to the mens, branding they balls or they arsehole. Every nigger confess. The commander lock them up in the gaol for trial.
Friends of Massa Roget storm the gaol, pull them out and beat them some more, blinding the girl in the right eye with a club. She scream so much until she could scream no more and all that leave was her mouth agape. Two white womens spit on her but even they couldn’t stomach what happen next. The men folk drag them all to the center of the Spanish Town square as evening come in grey. They pull them up with rope and the niggers swinging from a cotton tree. Then the mens stone them until they start to swing. The girl dead before they set her on fire. The mens did still alive but too weak to scream. The sour stink of burnin’ negro invade every window and doorway in Spanish Town. Lilith return to Montpelier.
She come back the same way she leave, in the back of the carryall that Robert Quinn drive.
—Are ye happy to be back, lass? he say.
—Yes, massa, Lilith say.
—Well, how anyone finds cause to be happy amidst this terrible business mystifies me, of course. Then again, much about negroes mystifies me.
—Yes, massa.
Robert Quinn sigh. Terrible, terrible business, he say. Miss Isobel is beside herself, of course. Do ye feel sorry for her, Lilith?
—Yes, massa. Me feel terrible sorry for her. And the poor pickneys.
—I’m sure ye do. Lucky you were to be out milking the cow and not asleep.
Yes, massa. Lucky.
At the estate, Homer and Pallas was in the kitchen.
—Look who come back, Pallas say, but Lilith didn’t say nothing.
—You good, girl chile? Homer say.
—Yes, Lilith say, lookin’ down on the floor.
—Look like you goin’ need two kinda tea tonight, Homer say.
—One to sleep and one to forget, Pallas say.
—Me don’t have nothing to forget, Lilith say.
—Of course, Homer say. You have you bundle? Lucky you manage to save that in time.
Lilith don’t say nothing.
—You hear the news, Homer? They kill them Coulibre niggers that do it. Burn them right down to nothing. You know her, Lilith, the girl they say start the fire? Pallas say.
—Me and she was not friend.
—Me sure you and she wasn’t enemy, neither. Anyway, Homer, the white mens catch her trying to run ’way. Next thing you know, they say she confessing to starting the fire. Yes, me dear, they lock her up, but of course you know what happen when nigger get lock up in gaol.
—Lynching.
—Lynching is correct. No trial for that bitch. Not a baby killer. No she used to take care of the pickneys, Lilith?
—No, that be Matraca.
—Where she be?
—Dead. Where me sleeping?
—You forget already? Where you always sleep. You space waiting on you, Homer say. Lilith step past her and go down the cellar steps.
—Welcome home, Homer s
ay.
Morning come and Miss Isobel wake up in a fit. She clutch herself quick as if to make sure that she have on clothes. Miss Isobel jump out of bed and run down the stairs. Passing through the hallway, her movement wake up Massa Humphrey, who be sleeping on a chaise in the sitting room.
—Isobel? Isobel? Is that you?
—A heartless one you are, that’s all I can say about you, Humphrey Wilson. A heartless, heartless one.
—Pardon me?
—How could you, Humphrey? How could you have let me sleep in your room through the night? Do you know what would happen should this get out? A lady still needs her honour, Humphrey, her entire family’s standing rests on it.
—But Isobel.
—I must have lost all good sense, doing what I’m doing with you. Allowing you to have you way with . . . You must think me no better than the niggers. And look at me, maybe I’m not. We are sinning, Humphrey Wilson.
—Isobel, I beg you.
—No, we have forgotten ourselves, Mr. Wilson, and you have dishonoured me once too many times, but even this is going too far.
—Isobel—
—Oh, let me leave, Humphrey.
Isobel fix her dress bosom and head for the door. She nearing the doorway and stop. Just stop still, like Lot wife that turn back.
—Isobel? Massa Humphrey say. He run in time just to catch her as she nearly faint. Miss Isobel start screaming again. Lilith hear the scream from downstairs, the woman scream that she hear before from Massa Humphrey mother. Serve her right, the bitch, Lilith whisper to herself, over and over and over till she believe it.
Lilith wear the anger through the day, like she gnashing teeth. —Me peeling as fast as me can, pussyhole, she say to Pallas when Pallas ask her for the potato to put in the soup. Homer don’t say nothing and Lilith make sure not to look at her. Pallas put food on the tray and tell Lilith to carry it up to Miss Isobel. Lilith say she busy.
—Twiddling thumb don’t count as busy, Homer say, and that be that.
Lilith open the door to Massa Humphrey room. She don’t see Miss Isobel. She put down the tray with the soup and go to leave. Right then, Miss Isobel come out of the water closet.
—What is that you brought? Miss Isobel say.
—Soup, mistress.
—Soup? Who said I wanted soup? Tell Mr. Wilson that I do not have much of an appetite, not now.
—Yes’m.
—Maybe not ever.
—Yes’m.
—You killed them, didn’t you?
Lilith jump.
—You and all the others. You killed them. You watched my family die. Burn to death like . . . like . . . oh! Did you not hear a scream? Not a single scream?
—Ma’am?
—Nor a shout? Not even a whimper? You heard not one cry for help? Were you not in the kitchen?
—I . . . I was out milking the cows, ma’am.
—You telling me that you’re the one nigger in creation who don’t know what a scream sounds like? You want me whip the bloodcloth out of you so that you remember?
—No, please, ma’am! I try to save... I try to save. The doorway fall ’pon me . . . I . . .
Miss Isobel climb off the bed.—What kind of monster kills a baby? What kind of demon lets him die? Answer me that question! Answer...Miss Isobel knees buckle and she sit back down. She look overcome. Lilith backing away to the door.
—Weren’t you friends with Francine? Don’t you all share your damned nigger fantasies? Would you have killed them too? Answer me!
People hearing. Footsteps approach the door.
—You were on the grounds! You were . . . oh, God.
Lilith stand still, lookin’ down on the ground while Miss Isobel cry again.—I’ll bet you’re not even sorry, she say.
Lilith feel like she about to cry herself.—Me plenty sorry, mistress. Me plenty sorry.
—You know what I wish? I’ll bet you don’t. You think right now, right at this very moment I’m wishing God returns my family? You think so? Well you’re wrong. Wronger than the devil.
Miss Isobel get up again, but she wobble when she walk. She still wobble and hobble over to Lilith as Lilith step backways and backways. —Try to guess what I’m wishing for. Me say guess, bitch, not run!
Miss Isobel close in on her by the door before Lilith could slip through the doorway. She close enough for Lilith to smell oldness on her, that sour mildew mixed with perfume smell. Her eyes red and her cheek hollow and dark. Her breath foul.
—You know what I wish? I wish I was strong enough to wield an axe. I wish I could take an axe and chop every nigger in my sight. Chop you from the feet up so that you scream all the way. Chop you all up into bits and feed you to Humphrey’s dogs. That’s what I wish.
—Me sorry bad, mistress.
—You’re sorry? What for? Isn’t this what all niggers want? You think me don’t know how you stay? Mind is you even set the fire.
—No, please, mistress, me didn’t have nothing to do with it, mistress.
—All the time now. I hear them all the time. I’m hearing them right now.
—Me wish me could bring them back, mistress.
—That’s not what I wish. I wish I had the bare hands to choke you or a knife to cut your tongue out. I wish I wasn’t a lady or a woman, but a nigger like you. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine me envying a wretched nigger like you?
Massa Humphrey rush into the room.—Isobel, are you all right?
Miss Isobel lose herself in him arms. He shout and catch her and take her to bed. Lilith can’t move. Before she know it, he in front of her.
—What were you doing to her? he say. Lilith about to say something but he slap it out of her mouth.
—Get out.
Lilith in the cellar hiding in the dark. Babies crying around her as they skin burn. Lilith try to think about the quilt on her back, the reason for what she do. Lilith trying to think of a deeper, more angrier reason. Lilith thinking that this is just eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. Lilith think that if she say it enough time, maybe ten, maybe twenty, maybe the number after that it would leave a mark in her head like Robert Quinn’s tattoo on him knuckle. Eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth. Lilith thinking about the anger that boil her blood and why it leave her. Why it put fire in her eyes then stamp itself out, leaving this heaviness. The fire that did say this is what she be and this is what she do. The fire that not red, but black like skin. True darkness and true womanness that make a man scream. But if this be the true womanness, then she don’t want it no more. Mayhaps true womanness was to be free to be as terrible as you wish. Like a white woman. Mayhaps true womanness mean to let the terribleness run loose and wild like river flood. True womanness be the seed of destruction like plenty whorish woman in the Bible. Mayhaps a woman be a beast indeed and everything the white man say ’bout a niggerwoman being left to her own devices be true. Lilith don’t want to be no woman no more. She want to go back and run through the ratoon fields, even to Circe, whose wickedness was never wicked like the Rogets. Nobody deserve to be dead more than Massa Roget, except that now the man really dead. And the two pickneys and Matraca. Blood don’t taste like wine, Lilith learning. Homer in the kitchen.
Lilith walking down the corridor and pass a looking glass on the wall, big as the paintings of the dead Wilsons. It didn’t make right and the mistress keep it away from people. Lilith watch the looking glass looking at her. The looking-glass Lilith have a flat head top, a chin that point all the way to the ground and eye so big Lilith can see another Lilith in it. She looking at the looking-glass eye holding her secret and wonder if maybe anybody can find out if they look hard enough.
—I beseech you, Isobel, you must eat, Massa Humphrey say. He at the door of him own room that now be Miss Isobel room. Near two week gone since the fire. Massa Humphrey living in one of the guest rooms. The day before, he go to him mother to tell her what happen, but she didn’t seem to hear. The whole time she asking her son where the father go when he
go riding, since nobody in town ever see him. Her room smell of dead flowers and piss. The mistress thin and her lips chap up. Massa Humphrey about to leave the room when the mistress say, Poor, poor Ludmilla, before she go back where her mind usually go. Homer wipe sweat from the woman face.
Now Massa Humphrey at another door trying talk to another woman who lock herself in. The massa look ragged, blue shirt not tuck in breeches and no shoes on him foot. Him hair wild. The two womens wearing him down.
—Isobel, really, I will open this door, he say.
—Do as you must, she say. Massa Humphrey open the door. Homer behind him. Lilith behind her carrying a food tray that still steaming and crackling with frying oil.
The room smell different to Lilith. Not just the perfume that woman use in between bath, but also the lighter sweat that come from woman flesh. Massa Humphrey pull back the drawn curtains and light pounce ’pon Miss Isobel, who look like the bed swallow her up.
—Oh, a pox on the lot of you! Miss Isobel say. Her eyes puffy from crying and sleeping but she still dressed ready to go in her one light purple dress with the petticoat showing and her shoes still on.
—Isobel—
—And you, sir, stepping into a woman’s bedroom like I were some parlor whore!
—I have been criminally remiss, Miss Isobel, my apologies. I’m only concerned—
—I do not want your concern, nor do I accept your apology.
—Miss Isobel.
Miss Isobel climb out of the bed dressed head to foot, like she just coming in from the country.—I’m just like them, you know. Did you know I was no better, Humphrey?
