The Legend of Tyoga Weathersby (43 page)

The thought of one man owning another was contrary to everything that Tyoga believed and stood for as a free man. Man was born to nature just as the bear, the deer, and the mountain lion. He was free as the wind and the sky and the rain. Man was no more tethered than a butterfly, bee, or bird.

The promise whispered to Tyoga of the shared oneness common to all living things. The simple fact of his being was not meant to be judged by others, as a man’s worth is independent of judgement or review. A man could no more be owned by another man than Wahaya could be owned by Tyoga. As Wahaya could not live at the end of a leash, so, too, no man could live bound by chains.

Without removing his glare from the wretched little man, Tyoga reached into his adobe and pulled out two shillings. He pinched the coins between his index finger and thumb and held them in front of Darby’s sweaty face.

Sensing the tension in the air, the crowd gathered around the three men standing behind the auction block next to the red brick wall.

Tyoga could feel the color drain from his eyes and the sleeves of his shirt begin to tighten.

Calmly, but loud enough for the gathering crowd to hear, Tyoga said, “You will take these two shillings and release this man. You will release him not to me or to any man, but to the air and the sky and the heavens above. These coins release this man from ownership.”

Darby’s gaze went from Tyoga’s face to the coins he was holding in his hand. Seeing the life drain from Tyoga’s eyes, Darby swallowed hard and sweated profusely. He did not respond.

Tyoga said, “Hold out your hand and take these coins.”

When Darby did not do as he was asked, Tyoga stepped into the man and whispered, “I will not tell you again.”

Darby held out his trembling hand.

Tyoga dropped the coins into his palm. “Now. Release this man so that all can hear.”

Swallowing hard, Darby said, “I release this man.”

“No, no,” Tyoga said more forcefully. “I want to hear you give this man his freedom. Say it out loud for all of us to hear, ‘This man is free!’”

Darby stammered to get the words out of his dry mouth, “Th … This man …”

“Come on. You can do it,” Tyoga demanded.

“This man is free,” Darby said in a frightened whisper.

“Louder. You can do better than that.”

“This man is free,” Darby repeated with more conviction.

Tyoga turned to the crowd. In a voice just slightly not his own, he announced, “Just in case you did not hear my good friend the auctioneer, he has given this man, Akuchi Akua, his freedom. Just sos there ain’t no misunderstandin’, and that no one take this exchange of coins as an act of ownership, I say to you now this man is a free man. No man may own him after this day. If I hear of this man being taken, the taker will answer to me.”

Tyoga reached into the pocket of Darby’s filthy vest and snatched the key to Brister’s chains. In a menacingly quiet voice, he ordered a final humiliation. “Release this man from his chains.” As Darby squatted at Brister’s feet to do as he had been ordered, Tyoga headed back up the lane toward the mercantiles and the Mattaponi who had already traded their furs.

Startled at what had just transpired, Brister left Darby staring down at the two shillings in his hand, and ran after Tyoga. “Massa. Massa,” he called out while he ran.

Tyoga stopped and turned around.

“Massa. Akuchi free?” he asked.

“Yes. You are free.”

“Massa, where go Akuchi now?”

“Well, I don’t rightly know,” Tyoga said. “I suppose that you can go anywhere you want to go.”

Akuchi thought before nodding his head.

Tyoga patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk away. He was not surprised to hear Brister’s footsteps following close behind.

Chief Blue Coat and the Mattaponi braves had been watching the action at the courthouse steps. Their bows were in their hands and they had brought their quivers to their sides ready to intercede should the crowd turn against Tyoga.

When he reached them, Tyoga waded through the band of men without hesitating and made his way toward the cover of the woods.

The Chief turned and followed behind him.

Thunder Bow and the rest of the Mattaponi party backed away towards the woods while keeping an eye upon the crowd at the courthouse.

Two hours away from the town of Brick House, the men were once again following along the shores of the Mattaponi River. Leading the way, Chief Blue Coat turned to indicate that the band would stop at a clearing ahead to rest.

Squatting down on the banks of the river to take a drink of water, Tyoga saw that Brister was relieving himself along side of a giant chestnut tree down the trail. Wiping his hands on his sleeves, he stood up and walked toward the tired black man.

With a big smile on his face so as to reassure him that he meant no harm, Tyoga said, “So, Brister, where do you suppose you are off to now?”

“Massa, Brister got nowhere go. Me follow Massa. Me work for Massa. Brister belong Massa.”

“No, Brister, you belong to no one. You are your own man. You can come and go as you please.”

Tyoga had been thinking about what he was about to say to Brister ever since he first set eyes on him. The smile left his face. “You are welcome to come with me if you understand that I do not own you. Do you understand?”

Not really understanding the meaning of Tyoga’s words, Brister nodded his head.

“If you come with me,” Tyoga said, “you must not call me Master. My name is Tyoga. Tyoga Weathersby. You can call me Tyoga, or Ty, but you must not call me Master. Do you understand, Brister?”

Brister nodded again.

“You can come and help me build my homestead. I will feed you and give you shelter, but I cannot pay you for your work right away. After we have built Twin Oaks together, I will pay you for your work and give you land to grow your own crops if you choose to stay. If that is acceptable to you, then you may come. Do we have a deal?” Tyoga extended his hand to shake on the agreement.

Brister looked at his extended hand and then looked into his eyes. No white man had ever extended his hand to him in friendship. No man, black or white, had ever trusted in him enough to seal a deal with the simple shake of a hand. He didn’t know what to do.

Tyoga reached out his left hand, grabbed Brister’s right wrist, and placed his right hand in his own. As the two men shook hands, a smile came to Brister’s face.

“Deal?” Tyoga asked.

“Yes, Massa.”

“Call me Ty.”

“Yes, Massa-Ty,” Brister replied.

The deal was struck.

Chapter 51

The Parlez at Middle Planatation

W
hen Tyoga, Brister, Chief Blue Coat, and the Mattaponi entered the village known then as Middle Plantation, an act of the Virginia General Assembly had already been passed decreeing that the village would be chartered as a new city and renamed Williamsburg, “in honor of his Highness William Duke of Gloucester.”

The meandering, muddy path upon which the men were walking would go on to become the Duke of Gloucester Street.

The cobblestones of the avenue would one day echo the buckle shoes worn by Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, Sam Adams, and Patrick Henry when they briskly marched to Raleigh Tavern to plan a rebellion that would change the world.

The act also stipulated that the new statehouse would be constructed “somewhere at Middle Plantation, near His Majesty’s College of William and Mary.” It would take another four years for construction to begin on the Governor’s Palace.

The news contained in the act passed by the Virginia General Assembly had not made its way to the frontier, so Tyoga and his companions saw nothing more than a muddy path along which Bruton Parish Church, a blacksmith shop, and a mercantile had been established. On the other side of the path were several brick homes owned by John Page and his family. Beyond the village, the path rolled through swampy ravines and marshlands that separated the James and York Rivers.

Upon inquiring of the blacksmith, Tyoga learned that Governor Edward Nott, Henry Carry, landowner Henry Tyler, and several other wigged dignitaries were assembled in one of John Page’s modest homes.

They were in the parlor having tea and sipping port when Tyoga and the Mattaponi were announced by a tall, pasty man wearing white gloves and a powered wig. The ridiculous chapeau was so infused with the branding chalk that a plume followed his every move like a comet’s tail billowing though the void.

The valet asked, “Who shall I say is calling?”

Tyoga looked around him and chuckled at the pointlessness of the query.

“Tell them we’re here,” he said with a shake of his head.

When he heard the distain in the valet’s voice as he announced, “They are here, my Lord,” Tyoga nearly laughed out loud.

Chief Blue Coat and the other Mattaponi had no clue what it was that Tyoga found so amusing, but they smiled anyway so as not to offend in case laughter was the appropriate reaction to whatever was going on around them.

Tyoga motioned toward the door with a nod of his head to invite the Native American contingent to step into the parlor ahead of him.

Before Chief Blue Coat could step up onto the pine boards of the entrance foyer, a forcefully extended arm planted an open hand to his chest to prevent him from stepping up into the house.

Henry Carry’s voice said, “Not you. None of you.” The sweep of his hand indicated the Native Americans. “Only the white man may enter to parlez with Lord Governor Nott,” he announced in haughty tone.

Chief Blue Coat’s face darkened with anger. Even without understanding the words, the intention was clear. He took his foot down from the top step.

Some of the Mattaponi braves swung their bows from their backs and others placed their hands on their tomahawks secured in their waist sash.

Brister stepped from the side of the house and turned his imposing frame menacingly toward the stoop.

“Ees-ta ho,” Chief Blue Coat commanded.

The braves reluctantly stood down. Tyoga held his hand up in the air to stay Brister a safe distance from the front door.

Tyoga, who was still standing in the street, climbed the two bottom porch steps and said to Mr. Carry, “I wouldn’t advise you placin’ yer hands on the Chief again. ‘Cause he won’t stop them a second time.”

At this Mr. Carry, dropped his arm to his side and said with more embarrassment than contrition, “Well, then. Tell him that he and his men may not enter this house.”

“No,” Tyoga replied.

“No? No?” Mr. Carry replied. “My good man, it is the order of his Lord Governor that you and only you may enter this house to parlez. Now, I won’t tell you again to instruct this man that he may not enter this house.”

T
yoga felt himself begin to lose his patience. Chief Blue Coat and the Mattaponi braves were some of the finest men he had ever known in his life. They had taken him and Trinity Jane in, cared for them when they had no food, no clothes, and no shelter, and now they were being told that they were not worthy to be in the presence of his Lord Governor.

His heart pounded in his chest with that urgency that prepared him for battle. His eyes grew cold and his arms swelled. Still he kept control of his voice and demeanor. “I will not enter without the chief by my side. He is the man to which his ‘Lord Governor’ must speak.”

While Tyoga was saying these words to Carry, Chief Blue Coat touched him on the sleeve. Stepping down, Tyoga leaned into the Chief to hear what he wished to say. A smile came to Tyoga’s lips. He stepped back up to face Carry standing on the threshold.

“Chief Blue Coat says that no one will enter this house. Tell Nott that now he must come outside to speak with the Chief.”

“He will not, sir!” Carry was indignant. “I have never heard such a thing!”

At this, Tyoga stepped back down to speak with the Chief. The other Mattaponi braves gathered around to hear what the funny little man standing self-righteously on the top step had said. The conference went on for some time before breaking up when the Mattaponi, led by Chief Blue Coat, starting making their way up mainstreet toward the college grounds.

With his back turned toward Mr. Carry, who was still standing in the doorway of the house, Tyoga watched them walk away. Smiling, he turned to face him. “Mr. Carry, it seems that there will no longer be a—What did you call it?—Parlez between Nott—”

“Lord Governor Nott,” Carry interrupted.

“—Lord Governor Nott,” Tyoga repeated with a mocking bow.

“What do you mean no parlez?” Carry demanded. “You’ve come all this way to speak with Lord Governor, and now you will turn your back on an audience with my Lord without listening to that which he wishes to decree?”

“No. Not exactly, that. No,” Tyoga said. “But now, instead of a
parlez
there will be a
pow- wow
.”

“A
pow-wow
?” Carry asked. “Just exactly what does that mean, sir?”

“That means,” Tyoga explained, “if Nott wishes to speak with the Chief, he must now come to him. We’ll be camped on the outskirts of the school, yonder. We’ll expect Nott sometime after supper.”

Dumbfounded, Carry made no reply.

When he turned to follow after the Mattaponi, Tyoga said to him, “You’re welcome to come along if you want.” He stopped and turned to him. “Least-wise, I don’t think he’ll object.”

Motioning for Brister to follow, he laughed out loud, turned, and disappeared into the evening shadows.

Chapter 52

The Pow-Wow at Middle Plantation

T
h
ey made camp outside of the manicured ground of His Majesty’s College of William and Mary, south of the campus on a high spot of land that allowed a view of the village of Middle Plantation.

The campus proper was landscaped in keeping with English tradition of angular gardens filled with Coreopsis and Verbena bordered by cropped boxwood and vinca groundcover. Beyond the low brick walls were nothing but fields, forest, and swamp.

After the sun had set and the men had finished their dinner, they heard the sound of horse and carriage making its way along the center street toward their campsite. The carriage stopped beyond the light of the campfire, about twenty-five yards from the men. They heard the carriage door open and the sounds of the steps being lowered to the ground.