An Undisturbed Peace (10 page)

“It was an accident of fate that the day we arrived at our destination was the very day of a great celebration. As we approached the farm of Dark Water's father, the road became crowded with Cherokee all traveling to the same place. They entered quietly from the woods at frequent intervals, appearing without warning to join our burgeoning group. The people were dressed in what I knew were the formal costumes of the nation. The men wore tunics and robes, leggings sometimes of buckskin, sometimes of blue cloth, and turbans. The important ones of them wore gorgets around their necks and long earrings. Others wore bells and feathers. The women were in gowns of doeskin that fell to their knees and blouses pointed like handkerchiefs along with many beaded necklaces. Their moccasins were like short boots. Although they both walked and rode on horses, not an item of European clothing was to be seen among them, which meant to me that their purpose was not only festive but of some importance beyond merriment or thanksgiving. To watch our companions on the road study us and judge us by our clothing unsettled me. I wanted to rip off my jacket, my shirt, that damned cravat, and put on my Cherokee clothes but of course I could not.

“Soon there emerged from the woods a grand plantation. Row upon row of cotton, tobacco, corn, and other vegetables, fruit trees, whatever this good earth can offer, lay on either side of the road, acre after acre. Black men and women worked them, their sweating backs bent perpetually in hoeing or picking. It was impossible to see their faces, for in all the time we rode by them none rose to watch us pass. Lulu and I grabbed each other's hands for comfort, as we wondered if we too would soon be pressed to hard labor. Finally, I was thankful for the trader's clothes we wore. With any luck, they would make us appear too refined for the fields. I ran through my mind all my skills and talents, trying to determine which would most appeal to such an estate, and I know Lulu thought of the cooking and spinning she had learned as a child of the islands. At the first opportunity, we would tell my deer mother's sister what work we were best suited for. Lulu told me later that as we came up to the great house along with the hundred or more celebrants of we knew not what holiday, her hand had gone numb from my squeezing it so hard.

“Once we arrived, our driver pulled the wagon up to the back of the great house, which was the typical plantation house you see in those parts, seeming to rise up from the center of a lush garden like a painted flower. It was made of brick and wood with a long porch in the front and stairs with wrought iron handrails. A Cherokee woman in a fringed buckskin dress with voluminous sleeves came out the back door to take account of the wagon's contents, instructing a cadre of black children where to take what. When she came to my wife and me, she said, ‘There must be something in the house I can use you for. For the moment you may rest. It is a holiday here, for slave and freeman alike. Phineas!' she called to one of the children. ‘Look after these two and look after them well. Later on, I'll decide how to dispose of them.'

“The child Phineas gestured for us to follow him to the row of slave houses. We rounded to the front of the big house, where we were interrupted by an extraordinary sight. Out of a great cloud of dust, a carriage appeared. It raced down the entry road. It was a marvel, an elegant, rich man's carriage rarely seen in the high places. It shone like the back of a raven at noon. Lanterns sprung from the four corners of its roof. The design of its cab boasted precious wood carved into marvelous curlicues at its hood and baseboard, all of it painted in gilt borders so that these alone dazzled the eye. Its doors were emblazoned with a gold-and-vermilion coat of arms. It was drawn by four galloping horses and a white man in livery drove it. It halted. Many of the people had gathered in the front gardens. All eyes were upon the carriage. Its door opened. The first to disembark was a white man, a tricorner hat trimmed in white fur upon his wigged head. He wore a three-quarter-length jacket embroidered all over with many-hued poppies, a ruffled shirt with long cuffs, tight knee-length britches of satin, and silk stockings resting in buckled shoes. He was like no creature I had ever seen. I imagined him a bird of some kind, a bird that had somehow lost its wings and been forced into the visage of a man by trickery or sorcery, but he was not the only stunning sight that afternoon. No, for after he departed the carriage, he held the door open with one hand and doffed his fur-trimmed hat with the other, bowing toward a person yet within the cab. Lulu and I held our breath, expecting we knew not what when from out of that dark chamber stepped the most magnificent woman I had ever seen, or will see, I am sure. She was a native woman of tender years, with black glistening hair arranged in the English style of the day, rolled and coiled about a copper face as lovely as the dawn, black eyes, strong nose, crimson lips, and her body! Ah! Her body was as ripe as the fields we had passed. Her flesh was molded by the confines of her English dress. Then as if she could stand it no more, the woman moved away from the carriage and raised her arms to the heavens. Her eyes, oh! Those eyes! How they flashed like the sun and stars combined as she lowered her arms to her hair and fiddled with it. Her hair fell down her back while hairpins scattered everywhere like arrows. Next, she loosed her bodice and her skirts and freed herself from them while the people about began to cheer, loudly, and chant in the way Cherokee chant when they are exuberant with joy. There she stood, in a circle of her cheering, chanting people, seven and eight deep they were, and she removed her shoes, her pantaloons and the coverings of her breasts, until she stood before us naked, whereupon she planted her feet, her face raised to the sun, radiant with delight, her eyes closed against its brilliance and shouted out a prayer of thanksgiving. ‘Great thanks, Father Sun,' she cried out, ‘for at last I am home!'

“The people cheered and chanted without cease. Dark Water's arms fell. She hugged herself and shook with laughter, the laughter born of a pleasure that excites and devastates. The woman who earlier met us at the back of the house then rushed forward in the company of several other women. They covered the naked beauty with a blanket, guiding her indoors. A man, whom I found out later was Dark Water's father, stepped forward. He wore trousers and a loose shirt in the Cherokee style, as well as many beaded necklaces and a tall hat that trailed the feathers of birds of prey. He announced that the feasting should begin. The Cherokee went forth to the tables where the feast was laid out. The popinjay from the gilded carriage joined them, but shyly although many extended him welcome. And after a time, Dark Water reappeared in the company of her mother. She was dressed modestly in her people's clothes, still startling as ever only at her ease. The people rushed to her side, enveloping her like a cloud until I could no longer see her.

“This was my introduction to the woman you know as Marian of the foothills. I had happened to arrive on the day of her return from her year in England. Her return, as I have tried to describe to you, was magnificent both in her appearance, in her pleasure, and in the elation of those who received her. How could I not love her after that? Any hope I had to possess her was doomed, I knew it. But from that moment, she lodged in my soul nonetheless, a nettle of bliss. Whatever else happened between us, I know that day was absolutely authored by the gods of fate. Ever after, I have loved her and prayed for no greater glory than to serve her. But life is odd, life is curious. It always answers our prayers but often in ways we never expect.”

Again, Jacob paused. They had entered the house. He left Abe alone while he retired to the kitchen to prepare a supper for them. Abe gave himself to the tufted cushions of the settee, leaning back as his head swam with the images Jacob had given him, images of Marian young and naked, adored by all who saw her. Perhaps most of all, it seemed, she had been loved by the man in the next room clattering pots and crockery. The man who was half-monster, and who loved her still—that was plain to see. Abe dared to imagine Jacob whole and in his prime. Had Marian loved him back? Had she made the vows to Jacob that she repeatedly denied him? Why? What could a slave have offered her that Abe himself could not? Jealousy plagued his conscience, filling him with a sense of guilt that he should feel less than kindly toward a man who, from the looks of him, had suffered inconceivably. His mind shifted to other questions. Exactly who was this Englishman who had accompanied her on her journey to her home?

Jacob returned with two bowls of steaming stew, setting them on the dining table and gesturing for Abe to sit. “There's only vegetables and barley, I'm afraid,” Jacob said while refilling their glasses yet again. He gestured toward his damaged face. “After this, it became difficult for me to chew and I've learned to do without meat.” Abe took up his spoon and sipped. Perhaps he was hungrier than he knew, but the stew was quite good. “It's very tasty, Jacob, and doesn't need the meat,” he assured, without bothering to explain that he'd dietary restrictions of his own, an explanation that led to long, arduous discussions in the pagan world and insulting ones in the Christian. In London, everyone knew he was a Jew by looking at his yarmulke, his beard, his fringes. In America, identification was often obscured. There were so many accents, so many types of dress from so many countries, who could keep them straight? Most settlers and farmers were of the same class, no matter where they came from and status was often determined purely by skin color. For his own well-being, he went along with custom, tucking in his tzitzit, trading his yarmulke for a cap, and rarely declaring himself. Life was easier that way.

The two men settled into eating. His thoughts distracted by jealous imaginings, Abe sipped at his meal while Jacob, due to his deformities, slurped noisily. Neither spoke again until the bowls were empty. Then Jacob pushed his chair back and continued from where he had left off.

“By a stroke of luck, Lulu and I were assigned positions within the household staff. Lulu found her place in the kitchen. Later, she was made attendant to the lady of the house. I was trained by the old man himself to be his valet. Now, that was amusing. Neither Chief Redhand nor I knew much about what it was a valet did. We only knew that grand men had them. I took care of his wardrobe, but not personally. When things were torn or stained, I gave them to one of the house women and she took care of it. He polished his own shoes, as he liked the smell of leather. Mostly, I walked behind him everywhere, carrying whatever needed carrying—even light objects, such as his lunch wrapped in a handkerchief if we were inspecting the crops, or an empty basket were we to go to the orchard and bring home a few pieces of fruit. The thing of it was Chief Redhand was a fake—he was no chief at all. He'd made a great fortune as a young man, selling beaver skins to the English. During the war with the Americans, it turned out he had a genius for finding the things an army on the move requires: fresh horses, victuals, and the like. This made him even richer. The whites acknowledged the gold he had amassed and called him chief. The people, because they are kind and saw that it pleased him, called him chief also but often with a smile. When the war ended, due to an accident of the new treaty, the Cherokee Nation managed to keep that portion of the land he inhabited. At the same time, men like Major Ridge and James Vann rose to prominence in the nation, along with men of mixed blood, modern businesses, and white man's ways. Chief Redhand bought one hundred slaves and installed his family in that big house he built. He purchased an overseer who knew what crops the Americans wanted and where to sell them. He turned hunting grounds into farmland and he prospered. But he was always in his heart a native of the hill country, and he wore his new ways lightly.

“The year before I came to them, he'd sent his daughter to England to civilize her. She was an untamed thing, a child of nature, more at home climbing a tree for birds' eggs, gathering medicinal herbs and plants, fishing, hunting, and riding than sitting in a parlor tatting cloth. After we became friends, she told me she tried to run many times in the days before they took her to the ship bound for London, but always her eldest brother, Waking Rabbit, or Edward as he became known after the chief made his fortune, found her and dragged her back. During the crossing she wept daily. Her heart longed for home. Not only that, she was kept in isolation for her safety's sake. The captain knew his sailors had noticed her and would have ravished her given half the chance. More than once, she thought to throw herself in the ocean. But after landing, she was installed in the home of an earl who looked to show her off to his friends and so increase his popularity. She realized soon enough how little would be expected of her in the English kingdom and she calmed. The earl had homes both in town and in the country. When she was in residence at the latter, she was able to put on the clothes of a boy and wander the valleys and hills, which kept her from despair. When she was in the town, she was celebrated for her beauty and men bowed to her. She found their attempts to seduce her laughable. She made a game of enticing and refusing them, just to pass the time. Then, after an eternity, her year was over. As I've told you, her return home was a triumph for her. She was the jewel of her clan. Not just for her beauty, but for her skills. From childhood, she was a genius at riding, at hunting, with the bow and the knife both. Everyone knew that when she was grown, she would become a
gighua
, a Beloved Woman, with a place on the General Council, honored by all. They say the year she was gone, the very land had suffered without her. The winter had been overlong. The summer, a summer of fire. Her people had missed her. She had missed them. She thought nothing would ever separate her from home again.”

“Who was the Englishman who accompanied her?” Abe asked.

Jacob's jaw flexed. He waved his good hand dismissively. “A nobody. A painter looking to capture some scenes of the new country and its original peoples to make his name back home. We all posed for him. He insisted the Cherokee dress in the old costumes for their sittings, which irritated Chief Redhand. He did it because he hoped the man would marry Dark Water. There was little chance of that. She found him ridiculous.”