by Sarah Lark
But Elias had no opportunity to tear it away from her. Doug jumped out from behind Nora and tore his father away from the girl. His fist hit Elias’s chin dead on and the older man was thrown halfway across the room.
“You … you bastard, it was you!”
Doug’s voice was choked with disgust and horror. Nora rushed over to Mansah and pulled her out of her corner. The little girl took refuge in her arms and began to sob uncontrollably.
“He … he …”
The girl had no words for what had happened to her. Nora was relieved that she was still wearing her dress and that there were no blood stains on it. Elias had scared Mansah, but at least he had not hurt her.
“You disgusting bastard, you defile little girls!” Doug pulled his father up and screamed accusations into his face. “You’re killing them …” Doug seemed to have to say it out loud to believe it.
Elias slowly came to again. “So what?” he sneered. “Have you already forgotten? They belong to me! And you can get them cheaper by the dozen in the market in Kingston!” “You’re …” Doug had disgust written all over his face.
“You are … a monster! I’m going to the police—”
Elias twisted his face into a nasty smile. “The police! And what will they do? Well, the girl is a bit young. But these nigger whores mature early. The constable will agree with me. He’s not so squeamish. And no one else either. Only you two … Where did you come from anyway — half naked and in the middle of the night?”
Doug was trembling. In his eyes, there was the pure desire to kill. He wanted to draw his sword, but of course the weapon was in his room. Now his hands closed around his neck as if they had a mind of their own. Doug squeezed, heard Elias gasping for air, and reveled in it. He would kill this monster. He would do to him what he had done to those girls, he—
“No!” Nora’s voice pulled Doug from his deadly trance.
“Doug, let go, you’ll kill him—”
“And if I do?” Doug exclaimed furiously. “Wouldn’t that make the world a better place?”
“And it will send you straight to the gallows! Doug, whatever he has done, he is your father!”
Elias struggled with his last bit of strength. He fell to the ground when Doug let go.
“And my fine son doesn’t even have the guts,” Elias’s voice crackled. He had never really been afraid.
Doug’s eyes turned blood red. He bent down to Elias, who had just pulled himself together. But Nora was standing right between them.
“Get out, Doug!” she commanded. “Get out of here, leave the house, and calm down! You don’t know what you’re doing anymore!”
“Nora … Nora, he—”
Doug wanted to object but Nora resolutely pushed him toward the door. Elias laughed at him derisively, and Doug thought he could make out a suppressed grin on the house servant’s face, who was still guarding the entrance.
“Go!” Nora cried, when he hesitated.
And suddenly, Doug felt that he couldn’t bear it any longer. He ran out of the room, throwing a swift, brutal punch that knocked the servant through the entire dressing room. The man had been standing at the door and watching the spectacle. He must have known exactly what Elias was doing with the girls.
But who in this house, apart from Nora and Doug, didn’t know?
Nora took a deep breath as Doug fled. She couldn’t bear the thought of him committing a murder. She looked around the room in fear. Elias was not hurt, and was getting up. And she was alone with him in a room. With him and Mansah. The girl broke away from Nora and ran back into her corner, pale with terror. It was unlikely that she could escape before Elias was himself again. Nora felt for the first time that she was also in danger. What if Elias killed her and Mansah? And came up with some story, maybe that the house servant Terry was guilty of the crime? At least he was no longer capable of defending himself, as he lay motionless on the floor of the dressing room. Elias could also kill him, claiming to have caught him in the act. Then it would be his word against Doug’s—
Nora looked into Elias’s angry face and then looked around. A weapon, she had to defend herself somehow … And then she saw Elias’s sword. The weapon was leaning against the wall beside the bed. Nora could reach it … She pushed Elias away as he approached her and reached for the sword. She unsheathed it and stood protectively in front of Mansah.
“Don’t you touch us!” she hissed, resolutely. “Don’t you dare!”
Doug ran like the wind from the house he was born in. At that moment, he wanted nothing more but to push a sword into Elias Fortnam’s heart, no matter what the consequences were, and no matter what Nora had to say about it. Especially because his father was right: it was almost certain that nothing would happen to him just for defiling a few slave girls. Of course, it would be a scandal and, socially, the whole thing would be a catastrophe for Cascarilla Gardens. But that would probably hurt Nora more than Elias. The other planters would surely forgive him quickly, and he would continue to drink and negotiate with them.
The Fortnams would only publicly be ostracized and no longer be permitted at dinners, or balls, or social gatherings. Nora would be restricted to Cascarilla Gardens. With her violent husband. Of course, Doug could kidnap her and they could run away together. Elias would hardly stop them. After all, he could just claim that it had all been a lie, brought into the world by his deceitful wife and son. But doing that, would mean more slave girls would be abused and die …
Blind with rage and despair Doug ran to the stables. He had to do something to collect his thoughts. Amigo whinnied at him. Doug threw a bridle onto to him. He led the surprised horse out of the stable, used a feed bin as a step up, and swung himself onto the horse bareback. Riding was good. It took him away from there, fast, and it would help him organize his thoughts. Nora was right; he had to think more clearly. Later, he would talk to her. Later, a solution would be found. Later.
Doug spurred the horse onwards and Amigo galloped out into the night. To the beach, to the sea — preferably into the sea. Doug had a strong desire to cleanse himself.
Máanu crept up to the hut where Akwasi was sleeping. Up until then, she had made every effort not to produce a sound, but she didn’t come close to the skill of the five men accompanying her. The Maroons that Granny Nanny had provided were experienced warriors. They knew how to sneak about, pounce at lightning speed, and then disappear, just as quickly. On top of that, they had set a terribly fast pace — in just one day, they had marched from Portland Parish to Cascarilla Gardens under the constant cover of the jungle, which had required quite a detour. Now they crossed the Hollister plantation in the dark of night and finally reached Fortnam’s new slave quarters. Máanu was about to instruct them to wait for her in the forest, when their leader began to speak.
“Where overseers?” he asked, quietly.
Máanu pointed to four large houses at the edge of the settlement.
“In there. But don’t you think it would be safer if there were more of us?”
The man shook his head and drew his knife. “You wake slaves, we overseer …” He made a distinct gesture.
Máanu nodded and her heart was pounding. Hopefully, the man knew what he was doing. But it wouldn’t help anything to argue with the Maroons. And their leader could be right. If they surprised the overseers in their beds, they would be easier to kill. If they were first woken up to the sounds of slaves revolting, it would lead to gunshots, and the Fortnams would be warned in the house.
Máanu slipped into Akwasi’s hut without another word.
“Akwasi! Bobbo! Coffee! Fiddler!”
She called the young men who shared the hut and shook Akwasi awake. After the heavy work in the fields, most of the slaves slept like the dead.
Bobbo, a fun-loving, young man, was the first one to sit up.
“Máanu!” he exclaimed in surprise, but careful to lower his voice. “What you doing here? You free! Don’t say you come back to free Akwasi! Is beautiful love.
But is also crazy!”
“I came to free all of you!” Máanu explained. Then the other men slowly got up and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. Akwasi seemed to be wide-awake when he noticed the girl. “I am here with a team of Maroons. Cascarilla Gardens will burn tonight! But we need help. You must fight! If you join, you are free!”
“Or dead,” Coffee pointed out. “They always catch slaves—”
“Not always,” Fiddler seemed ready to discuss the matter.
“They won’t catch us!” Máanu said. “Come now. We have to wake the others. Especially the young field niggers — the others are too hesitant. Akwasi, Coffee, Bobbo, Fiddler — each of you go to a hut!”
Akwasi shook his head. “I’m not a messenger boy. I will fight!” He said firmly. “Where are the Maroons, Máanu? If they are smart, they should be killing the overseers right now!”
Máanu nodded anxiously. “They are doing exactly that. But you …”
Akwasi quickly grabbed the knife that Máanu had on her belt. “I’ll kill Truman!”
Akwasi knew where his tormenter slept and headed directly there. He listened for the other conspirators, but the Maroons worked silently. Akwasi only saw a shadow just slipping into Truman’s hut as he approached. It looked like he was too late — one of the others would get their first. But then he suddenly heard a scream and sounds of combat coming from the hut. It was horribly loud, piercing through the quiet of night. A chill ran down Akwasi’s back. The other overseers must have heard; it must have been heard all the way to the house, and definitely in every hut of the slave quarters. And if just one of the blacks wanted to curry favor with the backra and betray them—
Akwasi didn’t hesitate. He pulled out Máanu’s knife and threw open the door of the overseer’s quarters. In the moonlight, he saw Truman grappling with one of the Maroons. The black man desperately held the overseer’s mouth shut, but Truman struggled free.
“Help! A riot! A raid!”
Akwasi quickly stepped up behind the man, pulled back his head, and slit his throat. The screaming ended in a gurgling sound. Truman collapsed.
“That went much too quickly, you dog!” Akwasi whispered to the dying man.
The Maroon grinned. “That just right. The man awake when I came. But acted like sleep when I attacked. Then fight. You help. You come with us?”
Akwasi nodded. “I’m Akwasi. I’m going to do to the others what I just did to him. What’s going on with the others?”
“Must all be dead. This last house. Maroons still looking for gold … and weapons.”
The overseers weren’t usually rich, but there would surely be a few coins in one house or another. And of course, rifles. Akwasi’s heart pounded when he saw Truman’s rifle leaning against the wall.
“Can I …?” He looked at the Maroon questioningly.
“Sure. I have weapon.” He pointed to the shotgun hanging on his shoulder. “But don’t shoot if not necessary. No make noise. No one must notice raid.”
“But we will burn the house down at the end?” Akwasi asked, hopefully.
The Maroon nodded. “But later. First gold. First …”
He ran his finger across his throat. They would first kill the planters. It was the usual approach for a Maroon raid.
When Akwasi and his new brother-in-arms came out of the overseer’s house, Máanu had already gathered around fifty slaves in the village square. Practically all of them were young, their backs showed where they had been whipped — and they were all hungry for revenge.
The Maroons nodded at them.
“We all go to house. But quiet. If no traitor, we find all asleep. That best. But often traitor …”
This was also something that Granny Nanny had raised as an objection to Máanu’s plan. The Maroons had bad experiences raiding plantations along with the slaves. Naturally, there were always men and women who were eager to take revenge on the backras. But other slaves were loyal to their masters. House slaves, in particular, often had qualms about killing them and burning the house to the ground, especially since it was where many of them had grown up. Quite often, they had reported the raid and then ruined the Maroons’ element of surprise. Essentially, that didn’t change anything -- normally the Maroons outnumbered them and killed the planter anyway. But sometimes they had to suffer their own losses, which Granny Nanny was trying to avoid as much as possible.
“No traitor here!” Akwasi recognized Adwea’s voice.
“But Backra no sleep. Backra has girl.”
Máanu cried out. “He has Mansah? We’re too late? How could you, Mama Adwe, how could you? Didn’t I tell you … Come now! Fast! We will try to save her. And if we can’t save her, then I will avenge her!” There was pure bloodlust in Máanu’s eyes. She raised her machete. “Follow me!” she called out to the men. “And don’t worry. He will be awake, but he is in his own world. He won’t see or hear anything, but the blood and screams of my sister!
Elias Fortnam dizzily looked at the sword in his wife’s hand, into her shining, furious eyes and at the girl that was hiding behind her. He needed a bit of time to understand how he had got into this situation. He had always been careful — he would have never thought that Nora and Doug suspected anything. Naturally, the house niggers were aware — it just could not be avoided. But he had them under control. And Máanu, the only one who had ever shown him her hatred was gone. But now his own wife was threatening him — maybe it had really been a mistake to bring Nora into the household … Elias briefly considered whether she would be able to use the weapon against him. He was sure she had never wielded a sword. But this thing was sharp — and Nora could take the sight of blood, as she cut open abscesses and took care of wounds that the men got from their machetes.
“Leave this nonsense, Nora,” he then hissed at her. “I’ve done nothing to the girl. And you couldn’t possibly believe that I’m living like a saint here.”
“I never demanded that,” Nora replied. “You stayed out of my bed of your own accord — once I no longer looked like a little girl, I suppose. And it’s not about you bringing a slave into your bed. The others do that, too. It’s that you abuse children. That you kill children!”
Mansah swallowed. Elias looked at the girl.
“All right, Nora, I’ll give you her. With the deed of ownership and all that, you keep the girl. Make her a maid or send her to the Maroons or whatever you think of. But behave yourself now, go to your room, and forget this night.”
“So that you can get the next girl?” Nora sneered.
She felt like the sword in her hand was giving her courage and Elias seemed prepared to let her go. But what should, what could she do? She would have to talk to Doug, but Elias was right: the police wouldn’t intervene. And even the social scandal would be limited. There was only one possibility — Nora had to do exactly what Elias wanted. Stay with him, stay calm, and keep her husband under strict watch from then on. She could prevent him from further pursuing his dark tendencies, at least in their home. Whether he would find other opportunities, remained undecided, but she could protect the children on her own plantation. Nora was dizzied by the thought of years of vigilance. She would never be able to be with Doug. Never, under any circumstances, could she give Elias grounds for divorce. The dream of running away with Doug was over. But first she had to get out of that room …
Nora moved towards the door with the sword held out in front of her, while Mansah clung to her robe. She nearly pulled off the light housecoat, at which Elias wolfishly grinned.
But then she heard a sound from Elias’s living room. Suddenly, the door was flung open. Doug? Had he returned?
But the voice that now echoed loudly through the rooms was not male.
“Terry, you lousy, back-stabbing traitor! Get out of the way or I will cut you to pieces!”
A blow and the house servant’s subsequent, horrified scream of pain proved that Máanu made good on her threat. The cry faded into a whimper. And then everything happened all at once.
While Terry howled under the Maroons’ machetes, Máanu threw open the door to Elias’s bedroom.
Máanu and Akwasi, who had come up behind her, looked at the scene between Elias and Nora in confusion.
“You, Missis?” Máanu asked in amazement. “You … knew?”
“No, she save me!”
Mansah had found her voice again, broke away from Nora, and ran past her tormenter into her sister’s arms. Elias seemed to rapidly comprehend what was happening. He threw a desperate look at the sword, but Nora was still holding onto it tightly.
“Give me the sword, Nora! Throw it to me!” he shouted. Nora ignored him.
“Only since this evening,” she answered Máanu. “I’m so sorry. But … but, nothing happened to Mansah.”
Akwasi saw Elias, moving backwards in a corner of the room with fresh panic in his eyes. Or to the window? He could not escape!
“Come on, Máanu, kill him!” Akwasi cried, and pointed to the backra. “Or shall I?”
The Maroons pushed their way in from behind him, undoubtedly willing to make short work of all present whites and any possible additional house slaves in the process. Behind them, Terry lay in his own blood.
Máanu looked at Elias, filled with hate. “Hack him to pieces!” she told her people. “Don’t do it too quickly.”
Nora closed her eyes to what Akwasi, the Maroons, and Máanu were doing with Elias Fortnam. She heard only Mansah’s horrified refusal when her sister invited her to join in on the slaughter. And she took the little one in her arms when she fled back to her.
“Don’t look, Mansah, don’t look. And don’t listen, either.” Nora held the girl tight and listened in disbelief. Between the sounds of the machete striking him, she heard Máanu charging her husband with all of the atrocities that he had committed against her. Máanu was also one of his victims. That explained everything. “Think of something nice,” Nora whispered and covered Mansah’s ears. “You have to forget this, you hear … we … we have to forget this …”
She cradled the girl in her arms until Elias’s last whimpers had subsided. Then she looked at Máanu. Her maid’s hands were stained with blood.
