You must play the gemsbok here. What you will see will make you wish to become a Scottish lion, but that would only bring you trouble. They understand nothing-nothing of Lion, Ostrich, Giraffe, and Zebra at River Bend. They understand nothing of the Torah. The Time of the Hyena is eternal here. So I beg you not to remain too long. We both know how Hyena has tried to fool you in the past. He will try again. Hold tight to the white feather I gave you when your spirits are failing. It will protect you. Have no fear — I can see Mantis still riding between your toes.
You will find many birds to imitate in the Low Country, many of them beautiful-beautiful, and they, too, will help you. They will remind you of all that is inside you and that cannot be damaged by this place.
Years ago I told you how Mantis stole Honey from Ostrich and how I would steal you a treasure if you ever needed it. I did not lie. For even though I cannot be with you, that treasure stands before you. I entrust Morri into your care. You will need each other to move safely into the future. Take her from this place and give her a home. Raise her as your daughter. I can think of no one who would make a better father, and I know that she will love you. If you are still the John I knew (as you must be), then I know what you felt for her the moment you saw her.
I shall tell you a secret: You never knew it, but you are the greatest hunter I have ever known. Your being here is proof of that. Perhaps you are not the bravest or the strongest, though those qualities are more present in you than you believe. Or even the swiftest, though you ran like the wind when you were a wee thing and likely still do. No, the greatest hunters are the most loyal and loving. So you will not fail. I know this.
Give my fondest regards to Benjamin. Tell him I have been working hard and that there is no place that needs our Jewish alchemy more than America. If I have been able to restore a little of what had been broken and forgotten, then perhaps it is not so bad that I have been sent here. Send a kiss from me to the Olive Tree Sisters and tell them that they have helped me do what I needed to do. Hug your mother for me and tell her I remember her only with fondness. I hope that she is well. Embrace your dearest father for me as well, and tell him that he is forgiven. I hope that he has pardoned the wrong I did him.
John, please forgive me for not being with you while you grew to adulthood. At this moment, that is my most painful regret. Know that I am eternally proud of you.
Midnight
Midnight signed his name with a snout on the
I was touched by his faith in me in a way that went far beyond words, but I was left staggered by the impression that he’d known he was going to die. That possibility burnt all my other thoughts to cinders and left me facing a desolate landscape.
Was there any abomination greater than enslaving a man who could write such a letter to an old friend he had not seen in nearly two decades? It was a crime against everything that men and women ought to be — and everything we imagined that we could one day become.
After reading his letter, Morri must have come to the same conclusion about her father’s demise. When her teeth began to chatter, I pleaded with her to sit with me. I curled my arm tight around her shoulders, just as Midnight had done with me so many times.
I knew that wherever he was, he was counting on me, and the knowledge gave me strength.
After Morri left me, I sat wondering if I would have to kill someone to free her. Yet when I took out her pistol to feel how death fit in my hand, I noticed that the touchhole — which conducts the spark from the pan into the barrel — had been soldered closed. I picked at it with a sewing needle to no avail. This weapon was useless. Worse, it might have injured anyone firing it. I was about to go to the kitchen and request a gimlet from Lily in order to force the hole open when I realized the obvious: The hole had been purposely sealed. Someone involved in Morri’s conspiracy, perhaps whoever had sold this gun to her, had wanted to foil her escape plans.
She had been betrayed.
I carried the weapon beneath my sketchbook into the hallway, then rushed down the stairs. Master Edward, hearing my footsteps, called to me from his study. I told him I could not join him at that moment. “I wish to sketch one more tree in this marvelous light,” I explained.
I then hurried outside and slipped around to the kitchen. Morri was upstairs ironing. When I presented her with the evidence of treason, she gave me a look of hopeless agony. I explained that I needed to see the other weapons. We agreed that she would duck into her hiding space and have at least a few of them waiting for me in her room after supper. It was a risk, but it had to be taken.
It was plain to both of us that her own morale was failing. Yet I felt stronger than I had in weeks, owing, I think, to her trust in me.
I had already begun to think of another plan, and I told her not to be too concerned about the soldered touchholes, that we would not need firearms to reach Petrie’s Landing. I said that I would need more time to think it through and would reveal all to her later that evening.
At supper, I forced myself to talk about trifles with Edward. Following our port wine, I went outside, telling Crow I wished for some air. It was a warm and humid night. He was of the opinion that a storm might be coming.
Stealing off to Morri’s room, I tapped lightly on her door and called to her. I discovered her with two muskets and a second pistol. She was weeping; she had checked them already and they were equally ruined.
“I don’t know how Weaver didn’t see this,” she moaned.
“Was it nighttime when he showed the men how to load and fire?”
“Yes.”
“It would be easy to miss by candlelight. I presume he never fired one of the guns himself.”
“No, never.”
“The same would have happened to me. It’s not his fault.”
Then the worst possible revelation came to me: Master Edward and the owners of Comingtee already knew of Morri’s plan. That now seemed clear. They had organized a party for precisely that reason. The patrols would gather early Sunday evening at Comingtee and ride into River Bend to trap the slaves. We were acting even now in a play of their authorship. Edward had invited me to Comingtee so I might enjoy the dogs going after the runaways.
“That sure enough explains the mud-mean things he’s been doing lately,” Morri said when I outlined my reasoning to her. “My God, I guess we’re done for. And there ain’t a blessed thing we can do.” She slumped in her chair. “I don’t know how this could have happened. Poor Weaver. Though maybe … maybe there’s still time for one of us to get away,” she said excitedly. “Would you take him with you, somewhere, anywhere — to your friends near Stromboli?”
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”
I spoke with confidence, because I had read enough military-history books to know that surprise was the most powerful weapon of all. The important thing was that Edward was not aware that we knew he had discovered the slaves’ escape plans. He was still expecting them to flee tomorrow.
“We must leave now,” I told Morri.
“Now?! We can’t do that — it’s too soon.”
“No, what we cannot do is wait for them to catch us.”
I told her then to tell Weaver and the others to get ready. As she had originally planned, we would first take Mr. Johnson, Master Edward, and the two black foremen prisoner and lock them in one of the barns. I believed I’d thought of everything essential until she said, “Martha, Weaver’s wife, is at Comingtee with their children. They expect us to leave tomorrow. We can’t go without them.”
As the curfew bell had already rung, Weaver was back in his cabin. Morri and I found him there and she asked him to slip outside with her. He took the bad news stoically and went back in to make a plea to Saul, Sweet-
