Antebellum Struggles

by Dickie Erman

  The village now consisted of only women, small children, and the elderly. His prey were women under thirty, and girls and boys over ten years old.

  Tabari’s mother was in her hut, weaving the finishing touches of a basket to be given as a marriage present to a young village couple.

  Fifteen of his men met in a small sheltered clearing, a half mile from the village. The leader, Akili, was a tall slender man in his 30s. He smelled, but so did all the others. For some, it’d been a three day hike from Londontown. For most, they’d met up at various locations near the village.

  They travelled through thick brush, open dirt fields, and heavily treed areas, the humidity so thick it was often difficult to breathe. All walking was done stealthily, away from any beaten path, in order to avoid detection.

  The light was now battling darkness. Most women were finishing up their work for the day. The last of the cattle milked, the women carried their basket-weaved containers back to the huts that served as kitchen areas.

  Some were still down at the slow moving creek, scooping up water that’d be used to mix in with the maize for tomorrow’s breakfast.

  Children played in the nearby grassy field, or in front of the huts, knowing that their mothers would soon call them inside.

  “Shhh!” Akili whispered. “Now is the time. You, you, you, you … and you” as he pointed his finger directly in the face of five of the marauders. “Go around to the far side.” He slowly waived his hand at the village and fanned around its perimeter. “Then wait until I yell to attack”.

  “You five sneak to the near side” he said, again pointing. “We’ll wait here” referring to himself and the other four thugs, “and attack from the front”.

  The two packs shuffled away, crouching through thick plants and shielding themselves from detection. The first gang had nearly reached the far end of the village, when one of them stumbled over a root, causing him to flail forward and strike his ear against a small boulder.

  “Shit!” he screamed, loud enough that the women standing in front of the huts all stopped what they were doing and turned to see who belonged to the strange male voice.

  “Damnit” Akili fumed. “Now … attack now!” he yelled as loud as he could.

  From each position, the men charged. Total chaos ensued. The women screamed and ran toward their children, most of whom were dumb-struck with fear and stood motionless, crying for their mothers to rescue them.

  Two women at the stream dropped their vessels and ran toward their children. Another two, childless, crouched down clutching one another, trembling with fear. Crippled with guilt for not rushing to the aid of their families, they also knew that they couldn’t help, as they too would be captured or killed.

  Akili, knobkerrie in hand, ran into the center of the village. He knew he’d probably not need it, other than to invoke intense fear.

  The first of his captures was a mother in her twenties, kneeling on the ground in front of him, one arm wrapped around her small son, the other arm futilely flailing at Akili to ward him off.

  He grabbed the child by his arm, while kicking his young mother on top of her head, and tossed him ten feet away. She tried crawling toward her son, but another wolf threw himself over her legs, and pulled out two shackles from his sack. Akili pinned her head to the ground with his knee, while another clasped each shackle onto an ankle, and chained them together. Her small son remained sitting on the ground, screaming.

  This scenario played itself out for thirty minutes. It was easy pickins. Old women froze like horrified statues, willing themselves to die rather than witness this carnage.

  One monster used his knobkerrie to strike a ten year old boy on the side of his head as he kicked and flailed to stop the capture of his mother.

  Tabari’s mother had run toward the stream but was tackled from behind. The force drove her to the ground, separating her left shoulder. The attacker stripped her clothes and violently entered her, then drug her back to the center of the village, only to be shackled with the other women and children.

  All tolled, they’d captured thirty two. All ankle shackles were removed and re-clasped and chained around one of their wrists. The victims were then lined up in pairs of two, with a rope attaching their shackles together.

  “What about that one?” one of the brutes asked Akili. The small boy who’d been struck with the knobkerrie had regained consciousness, but sat stuporous as a thin stream of blood trickled from his right ear.

  “Leave him. He won’t survive the journey”. Akili remembered what Afobali had told him about Mr. DuBois’ warning: ‘Mr. DuBois won’t pay for damaged goods’.

  “We have plenty of good slaves. Let’s go” Akili ordered.

  And with that, they began the march back to Londontown, where Afobali awaited his merchandise to sell.

  21

  T RENT SAT ALONE at the great dining table, as Sadie cleared his plate and such.

  “How odd” he thought. The silence was deafening. He wasn’t use to dining alone. The room was usually filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filled with ice. How he missed Collette. She’d only been gone for a few nights, but the stillness of the whole house made him feel lonely.

  He reached for his brandy, and in an uncharacteristic act, chugged the sweet elixir down to the last drop.

  Sadie had watched him pound his drink from the kitchen door, and knew he was trying to drown his loneliness.

  “Colonel, don’t you be worryin’ none ‘bout Misses Winters. I knows she’s havin’ a fine time with Misses Harrison” she said in a motherly tone. “She’ll be back home befores ‘ya knows it”.

  Facing away from her, he raised and held the empty glass in the air, silently demanding a refill. She hurriedly grabbed the decanter and poured him a full shot. He flicked two fingers of his free hand, signaling more. She knew it wasn’t her place to dictate when he’d had enough.

  She filled the glass.

  Shortly after, he found himself standing at Amana’s door, still able to stand erect, but barely. He’d thought about this moment, this liaison, for some time. His forehead began to perspire. There’d be no foreplay, no emotion, no romance.

  He softly knocked on the door.

  Amana was lying in bed, not yet asleep. She’d been dreading this moment, with confused anticipation, ever since the Colonel told her, as a matter of fact, that this time would come. Now, it had come.

  “Come in”. She knew it was him. Sadie had gone to bed much earlier, and Mrs. Winters was gone. She pulled the warm bedsheet up to her neck and waited.

  Trent slowly open the door. The candle light from the hallway chandeliers formed a soft yellowish glow. He could see Amana’s silhouette on the bed. He took a step toward her, nearly stumbling as the alcohol played tricks with his balance. Now standing over her, he reached down to feel the bed so he could sit without falling.

  “Amana, are you still awake?” he asked, knowing she was but trying to ease the tension and, hopefully, build some passion.

  She knew, that he knew, that she was awake. Her thoughts whirled with contradictions. If she resisted, he’d toss her out, back to the fields. If she complied, and Mrs. Winters found out, she’d surely fling her to the fields, or worse.

  She looked at his face, his expression hidden by the shadows. She could see the outline of his masculine shoulders and the agreeable cut of his torso. She’d seen all of this many times before, in the bright light of day. But never like this, in the closed confinement of her darkened room, the two of them, alone.

  He placed his hand on her left knee, and gently kneaded back and forth. Her body tensed.

  “Amana …” he tried to speak again, his mind trying to subdue the garbled thoughts being twisted by the alcohol. She began to sense that, at least for tonight, he was incapable of completing his objective. Her body began to relax.

  Only twice had she experienced sex. At fourteen, she was lying on her stomach and unconsciously found herself rolling back and fort
h, from side to side. An intense sensation began to grow. She had no clue that her clitoris was swelling, but could certainly feel rhythmic contractions. She suddenly froze, overwhelmed by the deliriously exciting sensation, but frightened by what might happen if she allowed this mysterious feeling to surge unabated.

  Trent stopped his hand, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He then placed his hands on the sides of her shoulders, leaned forward, and gently kissed her on the mouth.

  She didn’t kiss back, but didn’t resist, either. Not for fear of retribution, but because the feel of a man, this man, was suddenly and unexpectedly, pleasurable.

  Her only other experience happened a year before she came to the plantation. She was owned by a foolish plantation owner who’d lost most of his slaves through bankruptcy. One night, she found herself lying next to a young black stud who was fast asleep. A field worker whom she’d admired, at least physically, from a distance.

  That same delirious sensation that she’d experienced before, overwhelmed her again. Close to orgasm, she laid on top of him, and slid her hand down his pants, groping for his manhood. He immediately woke. They kissed hard and furiously. Less than a minute passed, and he was finished. She rolled off, and achieved her objective, alone.

  “Amana, I’ve simply had too much to drink”. He needn’t have told her, the alcohol from his breath spoke volumes. He began to kiss her again but, knowing he was defeated, he slowly lowered his forehead between her breasts, and rested.

  Amana never spoke a word. He rolled off, and sat by her side for a brief moment. He then stood, first having to place his hand on the bed to stop from falling. Ever the Southern gentlemen, he took her hand, raised it off the bed, and bent forward to place a soft kiss.

  Thoughts of “What did I just do? … What happens tomorrow morning? … What about …?” all jumbled together at once in his mind. Much too drunk to separate the questions, let alone answer them, he slowly shuffled over the threshold, and quietly closed the door behind him.

  Amana had pretty much the same questions. And she, too, was unable to separate or answer them. But not because of alcohol. No. Her inability was the fault of her conflicting emotions. Her confusion over the Colonel, his wife, her slavery, and the punishment she risked whether she capitulated or not.

  She thought all of these things, as her eyes slowly adjusted back to the darkness of the room. She couldn’t sleep. On top of all of these tormenting questions, that delirious sensation was starting again.

  22

  “O H COLLETTE, I WANT YOU to try it with me. Just the two of us”.

  “Are you serious? What would Jeb say?”

  “Oh, he knows, trust me. He knows it pleasures me, and he just accepts it. He doesn’t say anything”.

  Collette had never heard of such a thing. Two women. Alone.

  “Trent will never know. I sure won’t say anything. And if you don’t, then what’s the harm? I promise, you’ll love it”.

  “How do we … where do we …?” Collette asked. No respectable Southern belle would be caught dead in such an act.

  “Caroline, you sound like you’ve had experience, but you need to know. I’ve never done this before”.

  “Don’t worry, Collette” as she gently stroked her cheek. I promise we’ll go slow”.

  * * *

  TWO WOMEN, alone, riding horses single saddle” Collette thought. “It does sound exciting”.

  “Come upstairs with me. I have lots of riding pants and accessories to choose from. We’re very close to the same size. Much of it I brought back from my Paris trips. I’ll have Jacob saddle two horses. He’ll tie them to the carriage, and off we go. There’s the most beautiful trail not more than five miles from here. Oh, just wait ‘til you see it”.

  Collette watched Jacob, dressed in fine clothing and white gloves, pull the carriage to the front of Caroline’s house. How odd to see a white man doing servant’s work. He’d already saddled and tied the horses to the back of the carriage. He opened the door, and within minutes the ladies were off.

  “Oh my, it truly is beautiful here. Caroline, I’m so glad I came”.

  “Me too. Just wait ‘til we start riding a bit. There’s a narrow creek we’ll cross, lined with Spanish moss trees, and not far from there is a small waterfall. It’s just lovely”.

  Jacob stopped the carriage, just in view of the creek Caroline had mentioned. With Collette watching, Caroline seized the reins, thrust her left foot into the stirrup and, with a hop, swung her right leg over the horse’s rear and sat straight onto the saddle. It was obvious she’d done this many times before.

  Collette was more than nervous. She was frightened.

  “Collette. It’s real easy. Jacob will help hoist you up onto the saddle. Grab hold of the reins, and put your left foot into the stirrup. Winston’s a very gentle horse.

  “That’s right, Mrs. Winters. Winston has never bucked anybody. He’s as tame as they come”. He handed her the reins. “Like Mrs. Harrington said, just put your left foot into the stirrup”. He helped slip it over her foot.

  “Now, put all of your weight onto it, and hop up. I’ll help lift you while you swing your other leg over him”. No problem. Collette’s smile said it all. She was now a proud buck-a-roo, sittin’ tall in the saddle.

  “Now, don’t go fast” she nervously told Caroline, as she stared at the saddle horn.

  “We won’t, I promise”. She started a slow walk down the trail. “Just give him a slight kick, and he’ll follow right behind me”.

  “Slight kick, huh?” She gently tapped her heels against Winston’s sides and, ‘whalla’! It worked. Winston took a couple trots then slowed to a walk right behind Caroline. Jostled but now confident, Collette relaxed as she enjoyed the view from on high.

  They crossed the small creek, rode up and down several small hills, and finally reached the waterfall Collette spoke of.

  “Why don’t we dismount and rest here for a while?” Caroline said. “The view is spectacular”.

  She didn’t have to instruct Collette how to do so. It all seemed so natural to her now.

  “I brought some refreshments”. She reached into her saddlebag. “Let’s see. A couple of apples, some cheese and, oh, what do we have here?” she smiled, as she pulled out a silver flask, filled with her favorite ‘fruit juice’. “Ah, the elixir of the gods”.

  “And goddesses” Collette teased.

  They sat down under the shade of an old oak tree, resting their backs against its huge trunk. Collette nibbled on some cheese as the warm breeze encircled them with the smell of sweet bay magnolias. “How peaceful” Collette said, as she took in a deep breath of the rose fragrance.

  “Yes, I adore it here”. They both began to relax as they shared the juice.

  “Collette” Caroline asked caringly. “Tell me about Trent. What’s he like?”

  “Oh, he’s absolutely a wonderful man”, she replied honestly. “Well, you know. We fell in love instantly and got married and … you were at our wedding, silly”.

  “No. I mean, well, I’m not asking because I want to pry into your affairs. I don’t. It’s just that, well, Jeb and I seem to have grown more and more apart the past couple of years. I guess I want to know if that sort of thing’s normal, as compared to your relationship. You two seem to be very much in love.

  “We are in love”, she replied, trying to suppress the painful memories about Trent’s concern over the lack of their physical intimacy. “We have our problems, like all couples” she offered, not knowing how deeply this conversation would go.

  “I’m lonely” Caroline said flatly. “I’m lonely for companionship. I’m lonely for intimacy. Sexual intimacy”. She whispered the last two words.

  Collette held out her hand toward the flask Caroline was holding. She took it, and then a long sip. “Should I tell her?” she wondered. “Should I tell her how opposite our desires are? Or should I just be a good friend and listener?”

  “Jeb’s never home. He t
ravels all the time. He’s a good man, a wonderful man. He’s a United States Senator, for Christ sake!” she almost yelled. But he’s just never home, not for very long, anyway. And when he is, he just doesn’t have an interest in sex” again, whispering her last word. “I can’t say he’s not loving. He’s always willing to kiss me on the cheek, hug me, hold hands. But when it comes to physical intimacy, he’s just not interested.

  “Am I unattractive to you?” She was beginning to sob.

  “Of course not”. Collette sensed that Caroline was desperate to share her deepest emotions.

  “What? You’re looking at me like I have two heads”.

  “No, no. I’m just sitting here thinking, you and I have exactly the opposite problem. I’m the one who doesn’t want to have sex” she said, also whispering her last sentence.

  “Trent and I had a rather heated conversation recently. He’s too much of a gentlemen to come right out and say it, but I think he’s ready to have an affair. I told him why I’m not interested in it. It’s not him. But I gave birth, lost a child, and had a miscarriage”. Now she began sobbing uncontrollably.

  “I don’t ever want to go through that again”, realizing that her raised voice sounded like she was taking her anger out on Caroline.

  Caroline took Collette’s hand, and scooted closer in. “I know what a terrible experience you had. Jeb and I talked about it a lot”. Collette looked somewhat shocked.

  “Oh, I don’t mean in any negative way. Certainly not. But we both care for you and Trent, and talked about your struggles in dealing with everything, that’s all”.

  Collette became soothed, and much calmer, from Caroline’s soft words.

  “It’s just that I never feel aroused anymore. I haven’t for a long time. When we were first married, I looked forward to our intimacy” she reflected. “Maybe I’m just getting too old” she sighed.

  “Humbug! You’re not old. You just went through a very difficult time, that’s all. I know it’s cliché, but it’s true. ‘Time heals all wounds’”.