The sheriff arrived as darkness dawned, along with twenty-five strong and armed guards; they chained Nat Turner hand and foot. The heavy iron clanked as he walked and tortured his skin as he stumbled down the road.
His head ached. Except for his own blood, his mouth was dry.
Patches of cold night with yellow-flamed torches. Fists and jeers. Familiar faces turned strange. Words and fists pounding him. Women’s hat pins; who knew they could be so painful? On his knees, then up again. Heads on poles. Knees on hard ground. Swollen eyes. Threats, kicks.
Dragged into houses along the way, his face was pressed to their souvenirs. Fingers without nails, legs without feet, heads without eyes and ears. How much worse would they do to him? The Road with No Name. Black Head Sign Post Road. Jerusalem.
“Devil!” “Murderer!” “Thief!” “Give him to us!”
Slammed against cold metal bars, against rough, moldy concrete. He was alone except for the hands, the voices, angry steel. Outside the jailhouse, crowds shouted his name. Kill him!
THERE WERE NOT many visitors to his cell, other than those who came to beat him. There was only his lawyer: William Parker. “There is not much I can do.” There was nothing, really, that Parker could do. It was all in God’s hands.
At night he dreamed of Cherry dancing among the moonflowers. He touched her hair; he kissed her lips and held her to him. In the blue-black night, underneath the stars, the flowers glowed and the moonlight kissed her eyes and teeth. Suddenly she pulled away from him. Aren’t you angry with Him, your God?
Nat Turner didn’t want to argue; he wanted to remember everything about Cherry and to hold her. He is your God, too.
Look what He has done to you. Look at our miserable lives! I know you are surprised at me. I know you are a holy man, better than me, and probably angry with me for saying this, but God took you away from me, the only man I ever loved. The only man who ever loved me. The only man who told me I was beautiful. Cherry wept then, and in the moonlight, her tears glistened on her face.
Cherry had stepped too far away, too far away for him to touch her. He told us He would send us forth as sheep among wolves, Cherry.
I don’t want to hear this, Nat. I don’t want to hear it, Nathan!
She and his mother were the only ones who called him Nathan. The sound of his name in her mouth was like rose petals brushing his neck. Some of us are sheep in our family of wolves, some of us are sheep working among wolves, and some of us are sheep walking through a nation of wolves. They seek to devour us, but we must still love, Cherry. Some of us will lose our lives, lose our loves.
But it is not fair, husband!
God is loving and just.
How can you say that? Look at you! Look at the chains! Look what they’ve done to you! How could a loving and just God allow that?
As soon as she said the words, Nat Turner felt the weight of the chains around his ankles and wrists. The iron bars between the two of them seemed colder. He felt the soreness, the ache from his head to his feet. The dried scabs around his mouth made it difficult to speak.
The silver moon made a halo in her hair. Evil men did this to you! Is that love? How can that be just?
He wanted to hold her. God knew us before we were born into this world. I believe He asked me to leave my heavenly home to come here. I believe He asked the same of you, of all of us, even if we are only here for a moment. I believe He told us we were needed here.
A lot of good we have done!
I believe He told us ahead of time that we would be sheep among wolves and that we would suffer to help others. She was so beautiful, his Cherry. She was a princess in the moonlight. I believe He told you there would not be much joy for you here—no fine dresses, no great houses—but He promised you flowers. He looked down at her feet covered in moonflowers; he smelled the honeysuckle. He looked up at the dark blue sky. Stars and the moon. I believe He promised you me.
That promise is broken!
I think He promised that I would sing to you.
Another broken promise. You never sing.
And I believe He told you that I would need you—that you would be my joy, that you would make my life bearable. He wanted to remember everything about her—her hands, her feet, her smile, her frown. I believe you agreed to come, Cherry. Even knowing that you would suffer. He heard her weeping. Her shoulders shook; she cried from her belly. I believe you agreed to come for me and to bear my son. I believe you agreed to come to help the world, to bring joy to the world.
But who have I helped, Nathan? What good has it all been? She came closer. Pressing herself against the cold bars, stretching, hoping to touch him, even if only with the tips of her fingers. Reaching. Reaching.
I agreed to come, Cherry. He told me that I would be beaten for His name’s sake. Hated. I believe that He told me that I would be heartbroken, hated by the people I loved. He whispered her name. But not you, Cherry. Not you. He tried to smile.
I don’t want you to die, Nathan.
He promised me a few joys—my mother, my son, the books…. He promised me you, the love of my life, your love. He choked. The tears surprised him, sudden and stinging. It was hard to talk through the tears. We all agreed to come. Don’t you remember? Hoping we could make it better. Out of love; love for Him and love for them, even the ones who don’t love us back. Don’t you remember? We have to remember, Cherry.
We agreed to come. This world is so cruel and so hard, some only have the heart to come for a short time, just a flash, a hope. Some only have the heart to come close, but not to stay. But you and I agreed to come, to live in this world and sacrifice everything—just in hopes that we might help one person—sad Charlotte, Mother Easter, or maybe even Nathaniel Francis. Knowing that we will return to a better home.
All our lives matter, all our comings to this world. Sheep among wolves… it matters. He was quiet for a moment. He searched her face. He wanted to remember everything. I could not have done it without you. She brushed her feet through the flowers. He sang to her.
O Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Away, you rolling river
O Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Away, I’m bound away
I could not have done it without you. His voice failed him. He tried again. Tell my son… tell my son I did my best. Tell him I love him.
He knows.
I did my best. It was a beginning. Tell him the truth.
He knows.
We died as men. Tell him that we are all heroes!
I will, my love.
Away, I’m bound away
Cross the wide Missouri.