We won,” Nat insisted. “We bested you and fair is fair.”
“You cannot win. We always win.”
They were in the clearing again. Virginia had returned and, again, they were in Southampton, boys holding sticks instead of swords. Nat drew back his fist.
The slap stung his face and brought water to his eyes, but he would not cry.
Nat looked about the clearing. Make peace with slavery? How could he make peace with it? How could he make peace with something so unnatural? It was Thomas Gray who had brought Nat Turner the Declaration of Independence to read. How could he be content without the rights given to him by God? How could he make peace with allowing another man to usurp rights that could not even be given away? How could Thomas Gray consider something so ridiculous?
“I am no man’s slave. I am a captive held against my will.”
“You are always quibbling over words, Nat.” Maybe it was no surprise that Thomas didn’t understand; years ago, when they were children, Thomas had been learning, too.
Nat didn’t want to argue about slavery. He wanted to sit with his friend. He wanted to talk about the books. It might be their last meeting.
Thomas walked to his horse, preparing to leave, and then he turned. “I could purchase you.” From the expression on Thomas Gray’s face, Nat Turner could see that he was sincere. “I would pay more than you’re worth; poor Sallie would be grateful for the money. Her husband and she are poor as church mice.”
“More than I’m worth? I will not be bought by you or any man again.”
“Why do you fight against it? Why does my offer to help offend you? Is there nothing I can say that does not anger you? Do you wish to die?”
“Your plan of rescue, at best, only rescues me. What about my family? What about the others? How could I have peace with my family in chains? How could I have peace with you in chains?”
Thomas laughed. “Me? In chains? You know if you continue to speak this way, I really will believe you are crazy. Even worse, if others hear you, you will end up dead.” Thomas Gray did not recognize how the life he had accepted kept him bound. He thought like others that it was all to his advantage.
“I do not want to die, Thomas—I want freedom, I want hope. But if a sacrifice must be made, better me than my child. There are worse things than death.”
He slapped Nat Turner on the back. “I think my offer is a fine one, and I still don’t understand why it offends you.”
“I am offended, my friend, because you ask me to be satisfied with what is wrong. You ask me to depend on you for my peace and happiness. You know me better; you know this could not satisfy me. If you owned me, how could I ever cross you or disagree? Some business or illness could change my fortune. It would make you my god, and only God is my master.
“If God only desired my freedom, I never would have returned. I would have boarded the ship I was hired on and sailed far away.” He had returned to deliver his people. July 4th would come soon. “You have many gifts, Thomas.”
“So have you—you are not formally educated, but you are probably the most intelligent man I know.”
“You could change things, Thomas. You could do so much good if you had the courage.”
“The courage?”
“You are intelligent, you can write, and you can tell a story. You might change the whole country if you used your gifts for good.”
Thomas Gray’s smile was tinged with bitterness. “You speak as though I had so many choices.”
“You do. You are a free man.”
“Free is relative, my friend.” Thomas forced a laugh. “This has been a fine afternoon—a spirited talk about religion and books, and even a round of fisticuffs.” He leapt to the saddle. “Your principles will be your undoing, my friend.”
It was a strange way to say good-bye. Nat Turner had imagined they would part with kind words. He had imagined they might embrace as friends. He walked nearer to the horse, took the bridle in hand.