The Price of Freedom (14 page)

On reaching their hut, Sarah put
Deborah to lie down and picked a piece of aloe which she crushed and smeared
gently over the welts on her back.

“Do you believe in God, ma?”
Deborah asked thoughtfully as Sarah performed her ministrations.

“You mean that Jethro was telling
us about?”

“Yes,” Deborah confirmed.

“I know the children’s tutor used
to teach them about this God but my mother used to tell me about
Olódùmarè
which is the creator that her people believed in
and the
Orishas
which are gods or spirits that are
different forms of
Olódùmarè
. Maybe they are the
same. I don’t know. Why you ask me that?”

“I’ve been thinking about him
recently so when Jethro was whipping me, I prayed to him and the same time
Master Richard came and saved me.  I wonder if it was by chance or if he
is real and he heard me.”

“I don’t know child.  If he
real, why he didn’t help you when Master William called you to his room?”
Deborah had no response to that but she suddenly remembered William dragging
her across the bed and pulling back his hand to deliver a blow to her face
which for some reason never came. Did the same God stop him from harming her
more?  Was he there with her even as William took her innocence?  She
didn’t know what to think; what to believe. Exhaustion overtook her and she
succumbed to sleep without even knowing when it happened.

Sarah was glad when Deborah fell
asleep, overcome by the morning’s trauma and tiredness from the party but she
knew that when she woke up her back would probably pain her terribly. 

She was grateful that Jethro had
not put his full strength behind the whip, or it would have been much worse and
that Master Richard had not gone to Jamestown with the master and had been near
to the yard. Maybe that was God’s doings.

The way that he had jumped on his
horse and taken off to stop Jethro from whipping Deborah, made her think that
Cassie was right.  He seemed to be interested in Deborah, even though he
still called for Hattie to come to his room at night. Perhaps the master had
told him he couldn’t have Deborah; she hoped so.

She wondered how things would be
in the house with the mistress now that Master Richard had stopped Jethro from
carrying out her orders.  What would the master do? Would he take the
mistress’ side? Would he be vexed with her for causing this trouble although he
had said that Deborah could wear the dress? She was surprised that the mistress
had not ordered her to be whipped too; after all it was she who had disobeyed
her in not making Deborah
wear
the dress. 

In spite of everything she
couldn’t bring herself to burn the green dress; she had put too much time and
love into making it and it was the best dress she had ever made.  She
would hide it in Deborah’s trunk until she had the opportunity to wear it again
someday, hopefully as a free woman.

Someone knocking on the door of
the hut roused her from her thoughts and she opened it to find Master Thomas
and Master Richard outside. 

“Sarah, I just got back to the
plantation and Richard told me that he had to stop Deborah from being whipped
by Jethro. What happened?” Sarah stepped outside and closed the door behind
her.

“It was my fault, Master
Thomas.  It was about the dress that I asked you if she could wear to the
party.  The mistress was vexed because Deborah disobeyed her and didn’t
wear the one I had made for all the girls so she told Jethro to flog her or he
would get flogged himself.”

“Thankfully Sarah found me quickly
and I was able to stop him after just two strokes.”

“A good thing Jethro was trying
not to hit her too hard so the skin didn’t break but her back has two big welts
and it is real sore,” Sarah told them.

Thomas closed his eyes, at the
upheaval in his family yet again. It always seemed to involve Deborah is some
way. Maybe he should sell her for the sake of peace in his house.

“Can I see her?” Richard asked,
looking towards his uncle for permission.  He nodded and Sarah stepped
aside to let him in.

“She’s in the back room sleeping.”

Richard bent his head to get
through the door and glanced around the dim room which was sparsely furnished
but well kept and
clean
. The floor was packed dirt and
the walls of the hut were made of wattle and daub with plantain leaves for the
roof.

He went through to the back room
and saw Deborah lying on a pallet on the floor. Her back was bare and a thin
sheet covered her from the waist down.  The smooth skin of her back was
flawed by two long red welts which were smeared with some sort of slimy
substance.

The room’s one small window
provided enough light for him to see a similar pallet on the floor next to
Deborah’s, a trunk and an old chest of drawers with a basin and a jug on it.
There were few personal items in sight; just a comb and a brush on the trunk.

This was where Deborah and Sarah
lived? He was shocked at the primitive accommodations that his uncle’s favorite
slaves lived in.  Had his uncle ever been in here?  He thought of
William’s soft bed that he slept in every night and the ornate furnishings in
the house and he felt a tug of conscience at how he took them for granted while
Deborah lived like… a slave.  That was what she was.  Why did he seem
to have trouble remembering that?

Looking down at her he could make
out the swell of her breast as she slept on her stomach with her head cushioned
on her arms and he was surprised to find that it was not only desire that
stirred in him but an overwhelming feeling of compassion.  He sent up a
brief prayer of thanks that he had been able to save her from a worse beating
and bent to stroke her hair gently before turning to leave the room. 

“How is she?” His uncle asked as
he rejoined him.

“She’s still sleeping but I’m sure
her back is going to be very sore and stiff when she wakes up.”

“OK Sarah, you can go,” Thomas
dismissed her.

Richard hesitated, not sure how to
broach the subject of the living conditions of the two women as they walked
towards the house.

“I’m surprised the house slaves
don’t sleep in the house. What is to there to prevent Sarah or Deborah from
being violated in their hut by one of the overseers or the other slaves?”

“Only the threat of a flogging for
the offender, I suppose.  But you’re right. They should probably be in the
house for protection and that way they would be close by in case they’re needed
during the night or something. Sarah and Deborah used to live in the house when
she looked after the children.  I don’t even recall when they moved out. I
will talk to Elizabeth about finding somewhere for them, although after today
that may not be a very popular decision.”

“Speaking about lack of
popularity, I’m sure that I won’t be popular with my aunt for intervening
today. I told her that you didn’t want the house slaves scarred since it would
diminish their value.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll deal with her.”

Thinking it best to avoid his aunt
for the time being, Richard headed for the kitchen, to the accompaniment of his
growling stomach to ask the cook to pack something to take with him to eat
while his uncle went in search of his aunt. He was warmly greeted by the cook
who was more than happy to pack a good sized lunch for the man who had rescued
Deborah.

Meanwhile Thomas, not being one to
put off unpleasant tasks, headed for his wife’s room where she was resting
after lunch.  He knocked on the door and was invited to come in.

Elizabeth was propped up in bed
reading a book.  Thomas noted the lavish four poster bed with several
fluffy pillows at her back and a beautiful white quilt lying across the foot of
the bed.  A mahogany chest of drawers stood to one side with gilded brushes
and combs, jewelry boxes and all kinds of bottles and jars. A lady’s writing
desk, with a carved chair was strategically located in front of a window to
catch the light.

Thomas realized with a start that
he had not been to Elizabeth’s room in ages.  In fact he found it
impossible to remember when they had last been intimate.  Not for many
years, to be sure. An unfamiliar feeling that felt almost like shame came upon
him but he told himself that she was probably glad not to have to fulfill her
marital duties.

A look of surprise crossed her
face as she saw that it was him but she quickly schooled her face and presented
him with a slightly inquiring stare.

“Good day, Elizabeth,” Thomas
began. “I hope you do not blame Richard for interfering today. He and I had a
discussion not too long ago and I told him that the house slaves were never to
be whipped because any scars on them would diminish their value.  That is
why he stopped Jethro from carrying out your orders.”

“I have invested a lot of money to
ensure that you have all the help you need in the house and I’m sure you can
appreciate that in the event that I were to sell any of them, I don’t want to
lose any money on my investment. In fact the house slaves should be living in
the house so I need you to find somewhere to put them. And that includes
Deborah and Sarah. I recall that they used to live in the house when Sarah
looked after the children. When did they move out?”

“I moved them out when we no
longer needed a nanny. They certainly didn’t need to be in the house anymore.
They have been nothing but trouble to me and now you want them to live in the
house again?  Because of that slave, you no longer visit me as a husband.
Because of her daughter I have not seen my son in nearly two years and now my
nephew seems to be bewitched by her as well. I have had enough Thomas!  I
want them sold!”

Thomas felt the beginning of a
headache.  It was not as if he did not have enough to deal with concerning
the plantation but now he had Elizabeth’s relentless nagging. His only solace
was in bringing Sarah to his bed some nights and Elizabeth was insisting that
he get rid of her?  Was the woman trying to totally destroy his peace?

“You will do as I say and find
somewhere to accommodate them. I will give some thought to your concerns. In
the mean time, let there be no more incidents of whipping.”  She gave a
brief nod; satisfied that he had at least not refused to consider her request.

“Deborah will be indisposed for a
day or two while her back heals.” He searched her face for any sign of remorse
and was not really surprised to see none. “I will see you at dinner.” 
With that he left the room.

Deborah woke up as the evening sun
forced its way into the hut through the small window and streamed across her
face.  She tried to turn onto her side and the sudden pain and stiffness
in her back arrested her movement. For a moment she was confused at the
discomfort and then the memories of the day came back to her.

The whipping, as much as the abuse
she had suffered at William’s hands, cruelly reminded her that she was a
chattel with no control over her body or her life and that her fate was in the
hands of the master and mistress who could do whatever they wanted to
her.  Heaviness settled over her like a thick blanket, wrapping her in a
cocoon of depression that left her sapped of energy.

Reluctantly rousing herself, she
wondered how she would be able to put on a dress and go in to help prepare
dinner. Unsure of how to get up without causing further pain to her back she
lay on her side for a few minutes and remembered the relief she had felt when
she heard Richard’s voice shouting at Jethro.

The gentleness with which he had
untied the ropes that bound her and held her to his chest while she wept
softened a part of her heart, even as she blushed in shame that he had seen her
nakedness and her humiliation.