Princess Ces'alena (Webster Fields)

by Mercedes Keyes

  “After I talk to Thomas.” She warned him.

  “Did you hear a word I said?” He asked with one hand to his hip.

  “Oh yessim massa’ Manny, I sho’did sa’ - I do it real-…”

  “Yooou.” He growled, rushing her, taking her in his arms to imprison her against his body. “I’ve ruined you; giving you the power I have, indulging you, spoiling you. Letting you get away with murder! Talking to me the way you do…one of these days, I swear you’re going to get what you truly need; a sound slapping to your ass!” He threatened, looking down into defiant eyes, as if she dared him to hit her, even in form of a spanking.

  “You sir, may get your daughter. I am going to talk to Thomas. Then, I’m going to take myself a long nap. The two of you will have to keep each other company until I wake.”

  She informed him with a daring slant of her brow as if to say, she would do as she pleased.

  Manny sighed, “Very well, I haven’t any energy left to argue with you.” He admitted.

  “Well it’s about time. Now, if you will let me go…I wish to wash and dress as well.” She announced regally, a bit of a smirk lurking and a twinkle in her eyes. But still he held her, staring down at her. “Manny - let go.” She pushed at him.

  “Don’t ignite my anger Lena. You are mine, say what you will to him, then leave him…I mean it, do not push me where he is concerned. I’ve tried hard to be mindful concerning him, but I will only be strung along so far.” He warned her.

  “I don’t know what it is you expect to happen now? After what he saw this morning, he’ll probably not want to see my face.”

  “My intentions exactly.” He grumbled, then leaned down and kissed her hard and fast, releasing her he headed for the door.

  * * *

  NEW YORK CITY

  EARLIER THAT SAME YEAR

  “Mr. Boyd, has a Timothy Pearson, or Harold Casey shown up yet?”

  “No sir, Mr. Greyson they haven’t. As soon as they arrive, I’ll be sure to send them right into your office.”

  “See that you do Mr. Boyd.” Derek Greyson responded passing by his secretary’s desk.

  He was in an impatient mood as he entered his office closing the door behind him. At his desk he rifled through paper work and appointment reminders. Frustrated he tossed on the stack of papers the missives he’d picked up on the way in. Reaching for his pipe, he opened his tobacco pouch and stuffed the empty pipe, then sat back after lighting it to smoke it as he slipped into deep thought.

  Pressure was building up to a choking point of late. The forty something shipping president of Greyson’s shipping sat motionless as smoke swirled and billowed drifting up from his pipe before him. He’d been in the trading business since his father sailed to the colonies more than twenty years ago, establishing the business…died, and willed it on to him.

  It had proven to be a profitable business despite the competition from the one other merchant business, and those profits had gone to his head. Too many times he’d indulged himself in a little gambling that grew to more, and then more still. While he gambled his profits away, sneaking up on him was a new shipping line, Ramsey Shipping and Passage. It seemed to have sprung up out of no where over night. His solution had been to gamble more to regain his loses, and in the meantime - Ramsey shipping began moving in on his contracts. Right now because of Ramsey Shipping, he had crates upon crates of cargo that should have been auctioned and sold to interested buyers.

  Ever since this new company came on the scene, his business was feeling the squeeze; his gambling was aiding in his descent. Problem was, Ramsey Shipping, offered a better contract deal as a permanent supplier. He didn’t understand how the business could grow with the rumored contract bids he offered. Yet it was growing, making his asking fees seem outrageously high and unreasonable. Not only did he have to contend with that, but the lack of manpower as well. He’d lost many of his ship crewmen to Ramsey shipping, as that business took on more fleets. The last bone of contention was his seemingly endless supply of silver, gold and precious gem stones.

  “Damn it to hell!” He cursed the new merchant business, not understanding how he’d grown so fast, and then he cursed his own failing luck. Every time he’d managed to discover a vein of gold for mining, it soon ran dry. He ended up having to withdraw his obligations in supplying gold under contract. Again he wondered where and how was it this Ramsey could be so totally dependable and consistent? If he could find just one rich source overseas to excavate, that would promise him gold and jewels endlessly, that would be the end of his dilemmas. He could pull himself back over the top.

  He couldn’t be satisfied with what regular shipping and trading brought him, his debts were mounting. Food goods, lumber, iron and fabrics brought in a great deal of profit yes, but his needs were beyond that now.

  The kind of recouping he needed came only from that of precious metals and stones. Seven years ago, quite by accident, he’d happened to hear a tip that there were treasures large enough to let him live out the rest of his life, and then twice more including paying off his debts to live in complete security and riches.

  A fortune supposedly stashed by marauders who did a lot of looting from Spanish and English vessels carrying royal jewels and more. The accumulative value was said to be worth more than twenty of his companies at their peak in the trading business. Following the hunch, he’d set off in an adventure to investigate the truth of this tale himself. Arriving on the Island where the reserves were supposedly hidden. To his great surprise, he learned what others found out — and some too late, that in order to get the treasure, he’d have to get the permission and right of entry from the Island ruler.

  It was impossible to barrel through him, because only he and few of those with him, knew where the abundant riches were hidden. Allowing the tranquil scenery, and beauty of the island to mislead them, so many had died by trespassing on an island that had once be open to all. That open welcome had changed.

  The tribe and their ruler were blood thirsty, dangerous and enraged when it came to protecting their island from intruders – after - losing their princess to illegal slave traders. Those fortunate enough to survive and escape with their lives told of the savagery they witnessed. Much had been told of this island and its cunning warriors. How they - silent as a soft blowing breeze snuck up on unsuspecting victims in the calm of the night, slaughtering those who dare ignore their warnings. As they reap revenge on all they felt a threat to their island, ruler and home, they collected all tools of war found, strengthening the means to attack and defend.

  Having heard all of this, and escaping himself with his crew, Derek Greyson knew he certainly had no means to fight such a force as was said to exist on that island, and seeing the dark savages himself, first hand had been enough to frighten him away to build on a wiser scheme to get what he wanted from them. Especially considering the rumor that they were equipped with canons removed from other ships they’d captured who’d unknowingly moored off shores, sneaking up on them in the dead of night, to climb on board and kill most all found there. They did not keep their attacks to just the island, they rowed out to sea to strike lasting terror in the hearts of those who lived through it. He had no intention of meeting the same fate as so many already had. He was not about to bring in any extra forces to help, he wanted the find all for himself.

  There was no need to battle the island king for the treasure, because there was something more precious to him. King LuMaden was offering anyone a hefty reward, as much as half of what was hidden on the island, for the return of his daughter, Princess Ceś alena.

  She’d been stolen from the island beach so many years ago which was the cause for the change from a curious and welcoming island of natives, to the blood thirsty clan now ever on the look out for an unwelcome interloper. Yet, after all of this time, King LuMaden still mourned for her return. So she, this Princess Ceś alena, had become the treasure many were hunting for. Due to limited resources, many ran out of funds and places
to search for her, and so had given up. Derek Greyson was not one of them. He would never give up until he found her. He had already put out large sums of money as an investment to find her. If it were the last thing he did, he would discover her location. He’d been searching for over six years, and his patience were wearing thin, as were his own finances.

  If he hadn’t wasted so much time following empty leads on where she was supposed to have ended up, he’d probably be closer to discovering her true whereabouts. Yet he’d followed the idiotic rumors that said she was being auctioned to royalty in Europe. Then it was said she had been purchased by a sheik in Arabia to add to his harem. Yet another claimed to know of her location in Nigeria. He had ruled out the last deciding to sit and really think about it. Then, four years ago now; he’d gotten his second lucky break. By hiring a crewmen by the name of Denton Pratt, who was an original sailor on the ship that she, (Princess Ceś alena) had first been captured and brought on.

  Derek overheard him speaking to one of the other sailors on board the ship in conversation, the topic had been about the very one he’d been searching for. Pratt went on to say that he’d laid eyes on one of the loveliest Negro women he had ever seen. Because she was a fancy, no one was allowed to take her virginity with the price she would bring being kept intact.

  He’d explained that she was supposed to have been the daughter of a king, and was to be delivered to a private auctioneer in England after he’d paid a nice price for her to the captain. But the captain in his greed; took the money, killed the Englishmen keeping possession of the princess and sailed to the colonies, where he’d sold her again to another slave auctioneer; this time releasing her to him.

  That is when Greyson knew he’d been searching in the wrong places for the princess. Now he was permanently settled in New York. There he sat waiting for Pearson and Casey to come and fill him in on their progress towards finding her.

  As soon as the slave auctioneer that handled her was found, he would then discover her whereabouts; bargaining to take ownership of her. Followed by setting sail to return her to her father, who would hand over the bountiful wealth he held as reward for her return. His mouth watered at the thought of being in possession of so much gold and jewels. A smile came to his face as he envisioned this Maynard Ramsey Webster, of Ramsey Shipping and Passage - put back in his proper place, on his plantation with his niggers where he belonged. ‘Hell, I may even take sympathy on him and buy out his company. What the hell, might give him a fare price for it.’ He thought smiling deviously.

  “Mr. Greyson, excuse me. But the gentlemen you’ve been awaiting have arrived.” Mr. Boyd stood in the door informing him.

  “Well don’t stand there, see them in!” He sat up in his chair anxious now for their news. Pearson and Casey seated themselves before Derek Greyson’s desk as he fired out his question before they were properly seated.

  “Well let’s hear it! Did you find the slave trader that bought and sold her?” He asked with his heart thumping in anticipation.

  “Yes - and umm, no.” Pearson answered; a tall weed of a man with mousy brown hair and sharp features. “What kind of answer is that?”

  “We did find her trader, Jake Warden…a bit late I’m afraid. It seems he was shot and killed for cheating at cards.” Casey inserted, the exact opposite from his partner. He was short, stout and thick…bull strong with a wide jaw and large features, a pinkish coloring skin tone. White cropped hair, and little of it on his face. He was a brawler with heavy fists, capable of doing serious damage.

  “So what are you telling me, are we at another dead end?” Greyson asked afraid; he’d been so patient after waiting and planning for so long, and paying out the money he had, that was the last thing he wanted to hear.

  “Not a dead end. He had an assistant that worked with him handling the slaves. They dealt especially in fancies. It seems she’d been a part of that group until Warden lost her in a poker game, tossing her in with some extra slaves he’d picked up instead of giving over all of his fancies. Basically he sweetened the pot with her.”

  “Alright, and this means what?”

  “Whoever Warden lost that hand to - has the princess.”

  “Well do you know who? Did the assistant know who?” Greyson asked growing agitated. “He wasn’t present at the game. He hasn’t a clue.”

  “Well didn’t the man keep records of some kind?”

  “No. No records … as you know, it’s illegal.”

  “Aaaah - I’m at my wits end with this!” Greyson spat throwing his body back in his chair disgusted.

  “Wait wait wait…we’re not finished. What he was able to tell us was this, that all the players came from Alabama and Mississippi. He figured whoever has her, is residing in one of those two states.”

  Greyson sat up giving them a look that spoke of his displeasure. “You mean to tell me, you were down in Louisiana right near there and you came all the way back here to tell me this?!”

  “You told us to report back to you by now.”

  “Are you insane!? Get the hell out of my office!! I want you two on the fastest sloop I own! Take it all the way along the coast to Charleston. Then purchase a coach - don’t take one - purchase one - and take the shortest route to Alabama through Georgia. Hit every plantation in the state! You don’t find her, Mississippi is next! I want her found - now! Somewhere down there, she is living on a plantation pickin’ cotton or pleasurin’ the master’s son! You find out where that is!” Greyson blasted shaking in his anxiety. “She holds the key to my future. I want Princess Ceś alena! Just know this, you find her and neither of you will ever know another days labor. Time is of the essence - now go!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  A knock sounded at Manny’s study.

  “Come in, come in, the doors open.” He announced, certain of who knocked. Thomas walked into the study, his eyes meeting Manny’s straight on.

  “Cora informed me that you wish to speak to me. I was in the midst of packing.” He stated simply. His mind was still in a whirl from the talk he and Lena had three days ago. He was hurt, but not surprised…he should have known what the outcome would be. From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, he had known there was no man who could know such a woman, and not have claimed her at least once. He wanted to kick himself a thousand times for ignoring what he was up against. She had always been honest about being in love with this man - who now sat looking up at him.

  “Have a seat…I won’t keep you long.” Manny nodded towards a chair. Thomas came forward and took it. Sitting there his eyes on Manny, he knew - had he not returned, he might have won her. But then what? What kind of life would they have had together…with this man’s tenacious determination to have her at all cost. With his own pain, he was also so very sorry for Lena, because this man would be able to give her nothing but heartache and pain. Unfortunately, she was too much in love with him to care.

  Manny had everything prepared for Thomas, he wanted to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible. Wishing no delay in his departure from his land, home…and Lena.

  He had plans for his daughter and Lena; he was taking them on a little shopping trip to New Orleans. Kayleen, Leon, Jordan, Jean, Jacob Weston and his family, as well the Johnson’s would be going along.

  Manny felt more secure traveling in numbers when it came to taking Lena with him in distant travels. He had discovered a townhouse on Bourbon st. that allowed servants and slaves boarding with their masters. They would travel and stay there, while picking up supplies that could only be found there.

  Lena and Hope would be fitted for day dresses, gowns and under garments. Kayleen would purchase multiple bolts of fabrics for whatever she felt was needed and any other items she desired for the mansion and cabins there and other slaves concerning clothing.

  Four wagons would trail one another for the trip; each man with a rifle and other arms for safety. Everyone was preparing for it and almost ready to go, he just had to get Thomas underway. His
father had returned the night before telling him of Katherine’s return with Charles and Mildred from Jackson. She stated she might be home to Webster Fields the following day, and Manny wanted to be gone by then.

  Laying down his quill, he took a deep breath. From talking among his slaves, he’d confirmed what he’d already suspected, that Thomas was an abolitionist and was originally a free man. He didn’t mind that in the least, but what he did mind was that he had tried to take his family from him. That is how he saw Lena and Hope, as his true family. He would let no man come between them again.

  “Thomas, I’m going to start off by saying that I know you’re an abolitionist. I have no problem with that, in fact - I find it a worthy cause. However, our problem as you know - stems from our common interest. I’m not a sharing man - neither do I give what is mine freely.”

  “Ceś alena.” Thomas said her name to be matter of fact.

  “Smart man – is it any wonder you teach.” Manny quipped sarcastically. “Of course, Ceś alena! What gave you the right to pursue her, knowing she was mine?”

  “Surely you jest? You were gone! Never leave a woman like that unattended; you may be able to corral your stallions and mares without worry. But she is not a piece of livestock without heart or mind, she is a human being - not to own and ride at will - but to love and cherish.” Thomas shot at him. “Knowing -that- gave me the right!”

  “How dare you sit there so smug - judging me! No man - loves her more than I! Cherishes her - more than I!” Manny declared.

  “Then marry her! Oh wait - you cannot – you are already married! Even if you weren’t - you still could not! So what does that make her to you?” Thomas forged boldly on. Ignoring Manny’s reddening face. “Ceś alena is not your wife! You do not belong in her bed - yet that is where I found you, after you cleverly slithered in and forced her-…”