Cross Keys
1831
Nat Turner had never shared his intimacies with God with Thomas Gray. It was deeper water than they had ever trod. He held his breath waiting for the onslaught of his friend’s disapproval. “He has shown me things and given me visions. I saw a battle unleashed in heaven—black men struggling with white men. I saw a great battle loosed here on earth and blood spattered on the corn. God said to take the yoke of Jesus upon me.”
“You? King of kings? A slave king? Who’s the man with grandiose dreams now? If you were a drinking man, I would say that you are intoxicated.”
It was too late to regret telling Thomas about the vision. They had already argued over so many things they had never touched on before.
“It is preposterous to say that God, if He does exist, speaks to you… a mere man… a mere nobody… a mere…”
“A mere what? Slave? You believe God speaks even to Richard Whitehead, but not to me? Because of the color of my skin?”
Thomas Gray grimaced. He rose in the saddle, then sat, rose, then sat, as though he were undecided. The horse beneath him sidestepped restlessly.
“Perhaps, because of what I say and believe—in freedom, emancipation, and equality—you will turn away from me.”
“I am your friend, Nat. I do not see color.”
“If you did not see color, you would not speak to me as you do. You would not own slaves.”
“You don’t know all that I risk to be with you. Can you imagine what others would say if they saw me? If they heard our conversation or saw me sharing these books with you, they would run me out of town like your Ethelred Brantley. But I am your friend and I will always, no matter what, be your friend, Nat Turner.”
“Don’t say ‘always’; the price might be too high one day.”
“I will be your friend forever, no matter what the cost.”
They parted as friends and shook hands, as was their custom. “Until we meet again.”
Nat Turner wound his way on foot back through the woods, down the traces he knew. He passed by the twin oaks. Then a thought stopped him.
This might be the last time. He might never see his friend again. The day of God’s judgment was coming.
A bird called. A butterfly drifted by.
Then Nat turned. He ran.