Nat Turner made his way to his clearing, to his stream, but the torment in the woman’s voice was still with him. In three days he would be leaving. He would not think of her. He would leave it all behind. He would not be burdened, carrying thoughts of Miss Easter, of Cherry, or even of his mother.
He was only one man and he could not change the world. He was no god. There was no help for the people of Cross Keys, no help for any of the captives. If God ignored the people He created, Nat Turner thought, then why shouldn’t he?
There was a new life waiting for him. It would be a life with clear skies, calm seas, and there would be no one to make him bow down. He would have a life of travel and adventure where he was treated like all other men. He would forget about the naked woman on the shore. Who was he to her? Who was she to him?
He would prepare himself to leave. Three days. But first he would eat and get himself a good night’s sleep. Soon this would all be over and he would be far away.
He made a fire but Nat Turner saw the woman in the flames. He heard her screams and saw her struggling. His stomach churned so that after preparing food, he could not eat. If he could not eat, then he would sleep.
He settled into his sleeping place. He was young and strong, his whole life open before him like the bay, like the sky. He would sail to Ethiopia, where he would become a priest. Or maybe he would marry an Ethiopian woman, a wife no other man could steal. He would forget about the woman on the shore, about Cherry, and about all the others.
Sometime that night, in the twilight of dreaming, Nat Turner heard the voice of God.