Freedom's Banner

by Freedom's Banner (retail) (epub)

  He smiled at last, laced his fingers lightly through hers. ‘I’ll take you to visit there if you’d like. Last I heard Jeff was courtin’ a real nice girl from Augusta.’ The smile widened, irresistibly, and suddenly the tension was gone. ‘I’d sure like him to meet the real nice girl I courted for myself in England!’

  * * *

  They steamed into the depot at Macon late in the afternoon. The air was cool, though far from cold, and the sky had clouded over. As the train pulled clanking into the town Mattie saw a pretty, prosperous-looking settlement grown up about a wide river, much smaller than Savannah but not unlike that city in the style of its houses, the white spires of its churches and in the green of its gardens and tree-lined streets. They were the only passengers to alight; barely had their feet touched the dusty ground before, with a whoop of greeting, three tall young men surrounded them, grinning, slapping Johnny on the back, pumping his hand.

  ‘Son of a gun! Took you long enough to get here, John-boy!’ The tallest of the three, a huge young man with shoulders that strained the seams of his strong broadcloth coat, gave Johnny a friendly shove that all but sent him sprawling. ‘We’d nigh given up on you!’

  ‘Or sure enough thought you had on us!’ Another, as like to Johnny as a pea to its neighbour in the pod, made a fist and punched him on the arm, white teeth gleaming in a grin to split his handsome face.

  ‘Johnny! Johnny – it’s real good to see you.’ The third, a smaller, slighter version of the others, turned, smiling, to Mattie. The hubbub died to an expectant silence.

  Johnny, the recent disagreement forgotten in the excitement of homecoming, took Mattie’s hand and drew her forward. ‘Mattie, I want you to meet my brothers. The big one’s Will. The noisy one’s Russ. And the little one’s Robert.’ They all grinned wider at this obviously well-worn joke; Robert, certainly the smallest of the four, nevertheless topped six foot. ‘Boys – meet Mattie.’ He hesitated for only the space of a heartbeat. ‘My wife.’

  Their hats were off now, black hair gleamed in the fading light. ‘Real nice to meet you, Mattie.’ Her hand was engulfed three times over in strong, leather-hardened palms, three pairs of dark eyes smiled at her. She sensed and understood their curiosity; wondered what they saw as they looked at her, these young men who were to be her brothers – if she was as they had imagined her. She smiled, murmured greetings. There was a small, tongue-tied silence broken by Will.

  ‘Well, y’all – let’s get organized here. That your stuff down there, Johnny?’ He pointed to where their luggage was being stacked. ‘Damn’ good job – beg pardon, Mattie – we brought the cart as well as the carriage! Pa said you’d need it and by gosh he was right! Hey, Saul! Get yourself on over here and get this stuff to the cart for Mister Johnny an’ Miss Mattie.’

  Saul, standing not far away doffed his cap. ‘Yes, sir, Mister Will. Welcome home, Mister Johnny – it’s sho’ nice to see you.’

  ‘Thanks, Saul. It’s good to be here. Is that Shake I see over there?’

  ‘Sho’ly is, Mr Johnny – wouldn’t be nohow left behind when he knowed we was comin’ to meet you.’

  ‘Mattie – we can call you Mattie, can’t we?’ It was Robert, beside her, offering his arm. The train, in billowing clouds of steam, was beginning to move. The engine shrieked its farewell.

  Mattie laid her hand on the proffered arm. ‘Of course.’ She walked beside him to where a small and shining, well-sprung open carriage waited, together with four saddled horses, magnificent animals whose meticulously groomed coats shone like new-peeled chestnuts, their reins held by a young black lad astride a sturdy mule. Beside the carriage an elderly man, dressed in neat black suit with a spotless white shirt and a dark cravat, waited.

  ‘This is Dandy, our coachman,’ Robert said. ‘Dandy, this is Miss Mattie, Mister Johnny’s new wife.’

  ‘Sure pleased to meet you, Miss Mattie. Here now – you be real careful climbin’ up here.’ Between them, he and Robert handed her into the carriage, and tucked a warm rug about her knees. Behind them she could hear the others, shouting and scuffling good-naturedly, howling with laughter like small boys let out of the schoolroom.

  As she settled herself, Johnny came to the side of the carriage, laughing, his arm thrown across Will’s broad shoulders. ‘’Lo there, Dandy. You comfortable, Mattie? We’ll be –’ He stopped as his eyes moved beyond her to the horses, his face lit as if by a lamp. ‘Arrow! By God, you brought Arrow!’ As he ran to the horses one of the animals, a handsome beast with a white blaze on its face, lifted its head to watch him, nickering softly. Johnny put his face to the animal’s strong, smooth neck, rubbing its ears, talking quietly. His brothers watched, beaming. The lad on the mule tossed the reins to Johnny. ‘I took care of her good for you, Mister Johnny. Real good. Though she sartin’ has missed you.’

  Leading the mare, Johnny came back to where the others stood watching, thrust a hand out to Will, who shook it, grinning. ‘Thanks, Will. Thanks, boys. Now I really feel I’m home.’ He turned and swung into the saddle with an easy, effortless movement. Russell let out a high, yodelling yell and ran for his own horse, followed closely by the others. Red dust lifted as the animals, catching the boisterous high spirits of their riders, danced and circled like circus horses.

  Dandy clambered onto the high seat of the carriage and picked up the reins, clicking his tongue gently. The tall wheels turned. Behind them the mule-drawn cart carrying their luggage and two or three young boys, who sat on the tailgate swinging their legs, moved forward also and the small cavalcade swung out into the rutted road, the young men, still chafing each other, leading the way, holding back their powerful mounts to the gentler speed of the rocking carriage.

  Mattie sat, hands folded in her lap, a fixed smile upon her lips, watching her husband. Watching a stranger. She had never seen him on horseback before; it should not have been a surprise that he rode as gracefully, as easily, as his brothers. But – was this her Johnny ? Was this the young man who had walked with her in the gardens of Bath, talked of Byron, and Shelley? ‘What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?’

  A sudden and demoralizing panic all but overwhelmed her. She wanted him here with her, beside her, as they travelled towards Pleasant Hill and the life that awaited them there. She wanted to talk to him, to have him reassure her. Yet he rode ahead with his brothers, straight-backed and laughing, and she found herself battling helplessly against a feeling of loss. Pleasant Hill had claimed him, as she somehow had known it would; as the small procession moved along the blood-red dusty roads of Georgia she found herself wondering if she would ever wholly get him back.

  * * *

  Mattie’s first glimpse of Pleasant Hill was of distant, welcoming lights twinkling through the trees as they wound their way in darkness up the mile-long dirt drive that led from the road. It had been a long journey; she was tired, stiff and uncomfortable. Robert had dropped back and was riding beside her; the other three walked their horses in front of the carriage, talking more soberly now, their voices quiet against the background of hoof-fall and creaking saddles in the darkness. ‘Pa says there’ll be war for sure now. Reckons there’s no way the South will stand for that Yankee nigger-lover Lincoln as President.’

  ‘Colonel Bransom over at Silver Oaks is raising a troop. Thought we might ride over there tomorrow an’ talk to him.’

  ‘Cousin Edward’s already signed on for the First Volunteers. Savannah’s sure fired up over this whole business. They talk as if the navy’s goin’ to sail up the river any minute.’

  ‘P’raps they’re right. Pa says the first thing the North’ll do is blockade the ports.’

  ‘We’re nearly there.’ Robert leaned over in the saddle to speak to Mattie, pointing. ‘See the lights ahead? That’s Pleasant Hill. Looks like the whole household has turned out to welcome you.’

  Certainly as they drew closer to the house that loomed pale against the dark sky, its windows brightly lit and its wide front door open, it coul
d be seen that the great porch and the steps leading up to it were crowded with people. Nervously Mattie smoothed her gloves, adjusted her bonnet. Johnny wheeled his horse and rode back, taking up his position on the other side of the carriage from Robert. Will and Russell spurred forward, dismounting and tossing the reins to the waiting hands of two small boys. With a sense of the dramatic that would have done justice to a parade master, Dandy too touched the tired carriage horse with the whip and brought him to a canter so that the carriage, flanked by the two young men on horseback, broke with some style into the lighted clearing before the house, to pull to a halt before the crowded steps.

  A spontaneous cheer went up. Every eye was turned upon Johnny as he swung from Arrow’s back. ‘Welcome home, Mist’ Johnny,’ a woman’s deep voice called, and the cry was picked up with gusto. A little shakily Mattie stood up. Johnny strode to her, lifted his arms and picked her from the carriage as if she had been a child. She wished she had not been so suddenly and clearly aware that he had never done such a thing before. There was a buzz of laughter, a smattering of applause. Then the eager crowd shuffled backwards, clearing a way up the steps to where a man stood, and a trim-waisted girl in the widest-hooped skirt Mattie had yet seen. One look at Logan Sherwood was enough to see where his sons had got their build and strength. His shock of silver-white hair fell almost to his collar; there was about his face a high-boned cast that reminded Mattie in that first, brief moment of pictures she had seen of the Red Indians who had roamed these lands a generation before. Her hand on Johnny’s arm, she climbed the steps on legs that trembled after the long, cramped ride. For a moment, at the top, Johnny stepped away from her for a brief embrace with his father. ‘Pa.’

  ‘Welcome home, son.’ Logan released him, turned his eyes to Mattie; light, clear eyes so unlike Johnny’s and his brothers’ that it was a shock to meet them.

  Johnny drew her forward. ‘Pa – Cissy – I want you to meet Mattie. My wife.’

  The older man smiled and took a step to her, bending to brush a kiss upon her cheek. His mane of hair was soft as silk as it brushed her face. ‘Welcome, Mattie. Since we heard Johnny’s news we’ve looked forward to this day. Cissy, come say hello to your new sister.’

  The slight, fair-haired girl, who had been standing in shadow, stepped forward. As she returned the softly drawled greetings and a light, cool kiss, three things struck Mattie forcibly; the first was that William Sherwood’s wife was a child, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old at the most, the second that she was one of the prettiest girls Mattie had ever seen. And the third that in the bright blue eyes was a look of frank and daunting dislike that her sister-in-law was making not the slightest attempt to disguise.

  ‘Come – you must be tired, and hungry.’ Logan Sherwood offered his arm, turned to lead her indoors.

  Johnny was looking about him, a small frown on his face. ‘Hey, Pa, where’s Joshua?’

  ‘Over at the Brightwells’ place. Miss’ Brightwell has a parcel of Eastern cousins stayin’ there. She begged the loan of Joshua for a couple of days to help organize.’

  ‘An’ Josh sure left like a bullet from a gun,’ Russell grinned. ‘Even when he knew you were comin’. Somethin’ tells me that Ellie, Sally Brightwell’s girl, had more than a little to do with that!’

  Johnny’s face lit with laughter. ‘Joshua’s courtin’?’

  ‘Sure seems like it.’ They clattered indoors, the house servants streaming, chattering behind them.

  Mattie caught Johnny’s sleeve as, still laughing, he came to her side. ‘Johnny,’ she asked, ‘who’s Joshua?’ Surely, she wondered, half despairing, not some other far-flung Sherwood relation she had yet to meet? ‘You’ve never mentioned anyone called Joshua.’

  He patted her hand soothingly, called smiling greetings to the excited crowd on the steps. ‘Best damn’ butler in the county, sweetheart, that’s what Joshua is. Born an’ bred here – best Pleasant Hill stock there is – half the county’d jump at the chance to buy old Josh if Pa would let him go, which he wouldn’t.’

  They passed through wide double doors and into the house. Logan Sherwood turned, hands held high. ‘Shoo off, now, all of you,’ he said, ‘Miss Mattie’ll meet you all tomorrow. We won’t burden her with introductions now. Lucy, take Miss Mattie to her room and help her freshen up. Supper will be ready in an hour, Mattie, so rest awhile. Lucy will bring you tea if you’d like. Johnny – a word with you, lad, in the library. Sol, bring a bottle, will you? Oh, and Will, there’s trouble with the gin machinery again – go see to it, would you?’ All this was spoken against a background of excited noise in quiet and conversational tones; yet within seconds, as if by magic, the spacious hallway in which they stood was cleared, Johnny and his father had disappeared through a door through which Mattie glimpsed a comfortable, masculine-looking room with a battered leather desk and several deep armchairs, and Will and Russell were striding back out of the door, the heels of their boots loud upon the polished wooden floor. Only Cissy stood, small white hands clasped in front of her, pale blue skirt belling around her, unsmiling, watching Mattie.

  ‘This way, Miss Mattie.’ The girl called Lucy, tall and slim with lustrous black eyes in a light-skinned face, bobbed a small curtsey.

  ‘Thank you.’ Uncertain, Mattie hesitated, her eyes still on Cissy. The girl’s fair, heart-shaped face was closed against her. Alone in the wide expanse of the hallway she looked more of a child than ever. Impulsively Mattie said, ‘Cissy – I have some lace, brought from England. A present. Would you like to come and see it?’

  Cissy did not for a moment answer, nor did her face change. Then she shook her head. ‘I don’t believe so, honey,’ she said, slowly. ‘Will likes me to rest before supper. He don’t like me gettin’ overtired.’ And with no apology and no farewell, she walked past the silent Mattie to a door at the far end of the hall, the sound of her small feet clipping lightly upon the floor ringing loudly in the quiet.

  Mattie stood, caught between astonishment and dismay.

  Beside her Lucy expelled a small, sharp breath and said quietly, ‘Lord bless us all, iffen that ain’t the spoiltest chile Ah ever did meet! This way, Miss Mattie. Doan’ pay Miss Cissy no mind. Joshua’s had your rooms done up real nice for you.’

  In silence Mattie followed her to the same door through which Cissy had disappeared, surprised to discover that when opened it led to another, narrower open veranda at the back of the house, from which two flights of stairs ascended to similar balconies above. Beyond it, in the yard and fifty or so feet from the house, loomed a two-storey square building, a little like a cottage. Through the open door she caught busy movement, the glimmer of fire- and lamp-light and the smell of cooking, and guessed, having seen similar arrangements in Savannah, that this must be the kitchen, built independently from the main building to keep the Big House cooler and to minimize the risk of fire.

  Lucy led her along the veranda to the wooden staircase that climbed to the second floor. At the top of the stairs she took Mattie along the open, railed balcony to a door at the far end of the white clapboard wall of the house. ‘Mister Logan said you an’ Mister Johnny should have these rooms, same as Miss Cissy an’ Mister Will have the ones at the other end. They’re real pretty, Miss Mattie. Ah sure hopes you like them.’

  ‘I’m sure we will.’

  The two rooms, connected by a door, were indeed pleasant, though a little small after the lofty proportions of the Packard house. One had been furnished plainly but comfortably and with some pretty touches as a sitting room, the other as a bedroom, the centrepiece of which was a large, carved bed not unlike the one in which they had slept in Savannah. On the open walkway outside the door their trunks and cases were stacked.

  ‘We packed away the stuff you sent on, Miss Mattie. Mister Logan said t’would be best for us to do the rest while you-all are at supper,’ Lucy explained. ‘But iffen there’s anything you need, Ah’ll search it out for you now?’

  Mattie shook her head. �
�No, thank you, Lucy. If you could just bring in the small leather bag – that’s the one – everything I need for the moment is here.’

  ‘You should rest, Miss Mattie, like Mister Logan said. Here, let me help you with them buttons – Ah’ll send for warm water for you – an’ iffen you give me that –’ Mattie had taken a clean but crumpled blouse from the bag that Lucy had deposited on the bed, to have it whisked determinedly from her hands as she held it up ‘– Ah’ll get it pressed and freshened for you to wear to supper. You need anything while Ah’m gone, you jest pull that there cord.’ She pointed to where a bell rope dangled beside the door. ‘An’ someone’ll be with you direc’ly.’

  ‘Thank you, Lucy.’ In the quiet after the girl had gone Mattie looked around. The plain, comfortable room was lit by candles upon the table and in wall sconces. The bed looked altogether too inviting; aware that if she allowed herself to climb upon it and lay down it was extremely unlikely that she would be able to drag herself up again, she ignored it and wandered into the sitting room. This too was candlelit, and was obviously on the back corner of the house since there were two tall shuttered windows on the far wall. She walked to one of them and folded the shutter back.

  Lights showed from a line of cabins some distance from the house. An open fire flickered, blood-red flames lighting the figures that moved about it. Beneath the window at which she stood, a boy carrying a lamp led one of the horses across the packed dirt towards a stable building some hundred yards away. She could make out the dark bulk of trees, and something not too far off that could have been the glint of moving water. Two slave women, figures foreshortened, dark dresses merging into the shadows, white aprons and turbans ghostly bright in the darkness, walked slowly together towards the cabins, from where came the sound of a man’s voice, singing. Mattie closed her eyes for a moment, listening. The sound was indescribably haunting; it took no great flight of fancy to hear in it an echo of black Africa, a lament for lost freedom.