by Sienna Brown
Mister Jackson bring all this up. Laying it before the court, him call it. Laying it all out to prove that this could be a motive. A reason why I want to take revenge on Massa.
Through all this Mister Grignon keep jumping up and saying, ‘Objection. This is hearsay!’
Most times the judge say, ‘Objection overruled.’
Before the trial started, Mister Grignon told us, ‘According to Slave Law, a slave cannot testify on their own behalf.’
Now I understand what him mean. Stella and me can say nothing. Just sit and listen, all day long. While Mister Jackson report on what Stella and me been up to. What other slaves hear, what they see. Some don’t even belong to Rock Pleasant. So how they know? It turn into horse dead and cow fat, just gossip. Nothing except plenty finger pointing at Stella and me.
How many lives backra want to take for Massa? They already hang McKellar, take a life for a life. But I know in me heart backra want blood – slave blood – and the more the better. So we end up in court waiting till they going find a way to make us pay.
Finally Mister Jackson finish. The judge bang him little hammer and the clerk say, ‘All rise.’ Then the judge leave and is the end of the first day.
I want to talk to Stella, but they won’t let me. It take all me strength to stop meself from banging on the gaol door and begging them to let me see her. And when I finally fall into sleep, I find meself in a dream, standing outside a hut. A sunless place, full of sorrow, and I know the hut belong to death, and him is sitting waiting.
On the second day, Mister Jackson stand up and say, ‘The court now calls the sambo slave Sydney to the stand.’
The doors to the courthouse open and Sydney enter. Stella and me look at each other, look at Sydney. As soon as her name get called out, I know is not good. Sydney and Stella been fighting as far back as I can remember. Sydney jealous, think she should be in charge of the Great House. And here she is in the courthouse, getting ready to tell tales bout us, just like she did back on the plantation. And she all dressed up like she going to church. Must be make the dress special for court. I don’t want to admit it, but the new clothes make her look good.
After Sydney come in and stand in the box, she swear on the Bible that she going tell the truth and nothing but the truth before Mister Jackson begin to question her.
‘Now, Sydney.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she say, and smile a little bit to the crowd.
‘Tell us, in your own words, what you saw taking place the night before the accident.’
‘You mean at the Great House, sir?’ she ask.
‘Yes, at the Great House.’
‘William,’ she say, pointing at me, but me look right back. Look at her hard. Make her drop her eyes, wriggle in her seat a bit.
‘That slave, William,’ she say in a quieter voice.
‘Come now, Sydney. Speak up,’ Mister Jackson say, a little vexed. ‘You say you saw the accused?’
‘Yes, sir. Me saw William and Robert, they sleep in the hall of the Great House.’
‘So William and Robert McKellar knew each other well?’
‘Yes sir, Mister Jackson. Is William always bring Robert to Rock Pleasant. Try get him some work when Massa need it. McKellar start out as friend to old cripple Jonnie and then him come to be a very, very special friend to Stella,’ she say, and look at Stella like she looking at a trapped rat.
Yes is true, I did try get work for Robert. And me happy to do it. Him always looked out for us. Bring down extra food from the mountains when the provision grounds dried up.
‘Morning time, Stella and Massa have one big, big quarrel,’ Sydney continue. ‘Massa say him will nail the hall door shut. The door that lead to the parlour, because Massa say William make a Negro house of it. Him angry because William do nuttin’ but walk all over the country, pick up strangers and bring dem home. Him tell Stella, that when him return from muster, him going beat William for bringing people into the place.’
Mister Jackson go and stand beside Sydney.
‘So, Stella and the master fought on the morning of the accident and he told Stella he would beat William.’
‘Yes sir. That is what me say. You want me to say it again?’
The crowd laugh, and the judge smile, but Mister Jackson don’t seem to mind. Is then I see. Him is wanting Sydney to be in good favour with the judge and jury.
‘What happened next, Sydney?’
‘Massa tell me to “turn Robert out”, but when Massa gone, Stella bring food for Robert. Tell him to stay. While him eating, me hear her complain bout how Massa sell off her fowl dem. Sell off her hog. Tell her him need the money and what is hers belong to him.’
‘So Stella tells Robert McKellar to stay and gives him food? And complains about her treatment from her master?’
‘Yes, sir. Is what me tell you before. You want me to tell you again?’
The crowd laugh, but this time the judge come down on Mister Jackson.
‘Please control your witness. This is no laughing matter.’
‘Yes, of course, Your Honour,’ Mister Jackson say, making a little bow. ‘Please continue, Sydney.’
‘A little while later. Me see Robert with a hatchet in him hand. Him say him do the job, but me don’t know what job him mean. The hatchet look like it covered in blood and when me ask him bout it, him say is William give him the hatchet.’
The crowd start to murmur.
‘Go on, Sydney. What else did you hear?’ Mister Jackson ask.
‘When they find Massa and bring him up to the Great House, him covered in blood. Lawd of mercy. Was a terrible sight! Him look very poorly,’ Sydney say, shaking her head, looking like she bout to cry. ‘Poor Massa. Him don’t deserve such a wicked end.’
I don’t believe it. I know she don’t feel sorry for Massa. Not after Massa got Winston to whip her. Put scars on her back for visiting her daughters. Cause many fights between them and even though they still married, them live in different huts after that. No, I don’t believe she sorry at all.
‘Then what happened?’ Mister Jackson ask.
‘Mistress Margaret call for brandy. Call out to Stella. Nobody can find her. The next morning, me hear her say to Melon, “If Massa use you the way him use me, you would not be in such a hurry to find brandy. Let him die and go to hell.”’
The murmuring in the crowd start to sound like bees when them swarming.
‘Sydney, please tell the court what happened as the funeral party was going up the hill.’
‘Is a long procession, you know. And the casket look very pretty with all kinds of flowers laid on it. All the slaves crying. And Mistress Margaret, she very poorly. Keep resting on me. Me have to hold her up. Support her as she walking.’
‘Yes, yes, Sydney,’ Mister Jackson say, trying to push her along. ‘And where was Stella? Was she in the procession?’
‘Yes, she was there, and me hear her say, “You blood of a devil, did I not tell you that you going pay for all the bad things you done.”’
‘Objection, Your Honour. Hearsay! All of this testimony is hearsay!’ Mister Grignon shout out. But nobody listening, because the crowd jump up on them feet with everybody shouting. ‘Guilty! Murderers! Give them the rope!’
The judge bang on him box hard and him keep on banging till the crowd quiet down.
‘You may proceed, Mister Jackson,’ the judge say, after the crowd stop whispering and shuffling.
‘Sydney, you say Stella said she would make the master pay. Pay for what?’
‘One night … it happen one night,’ Sydney say.
‘What happened?’ Mister Jackson ask.
Sitting in that courtroom, listening to Sydney tell everybody how Massa try to have him way with him own daughter, but she screamed loud so everybody hear. How him make Winston whip her in front of Stella, in front of all the house slave them. It make me feel deep shame for my little family, but a deeper anger, for not doing one blessed thing bout it. What cowards we turn into, before the f
ace of power. The power slavery have over us.
I look to Stella, wanting to give comfort, but she looking straight ahead, her face set like stone.
After what Massa did to Eliza, Stella never going forgive him. Or forget, no matter what. And her heart must be harden more and more when she feel him pull at the yoke, him put round her neck. A yoke that start out thin, from when she was a pickney, but get fatter with every cruel deed. And is a yoke him keep tightening and fattening, till one day, him going squeeze the life right out of her. And the snake inside her, it must be coil itself round her heart, keep tightening till she have to let it strike. Strike hard and long enough that even though I don’t think she did the deed herself, I know Massa dead because of it.
I think this is the end, but Mister Grignon say him want to cross exam the witness. So after a short break, they bring Sydney back and Mister Grignon begin him questions.
‘Sydney, you say you saw Robert with a hatchet in his hand. And that he said William gave him the hatchet to do the job. So what job do you think he was talking about?’
‘Must mean him have a hand in killing Massa.’
‘How do you know that, Sydney? Did you see William give Robert the hatchet? Did you see Robert kill the master with the hatchet?’
Sydney say, ‘No sir, but …’
Mister Jackson jump up. Now is him turn to say, ‘Objection. The law has already proved that Robert McKellar killed Cargill Mowatt. In fact, he confessed to doing so.’
‘Yes, this is the case,’ Mister Grignon say. ‘All I am trying to do is show that the slave woman Sydney has no proof. No one heard the exchange between her and Robert as to the fact that William gave Robert the hatchet. No one else was there. And even if William did lend Robert the hatchet, that could have been long before he killed Mister Mowatt.’
‘Objection overruled,’ say the judge.
Mister Grignon lean in close to Sydney.
‘I ask you again. Did you see William give Robert the hatchet on the day of the murder? Or hear William ask Robert to kill the master?’
Sydney shake her head, lower her eyes and say, ‘No, sir.’
‘I have no further questions,’ Mister Grignon say, and the judge bang on him box.
The court close down soon after that and we left waiting for the jury to make them decision. A short time later, we get dragged back into the court. People squeezed in as tight as can be, even some people standing up the back. The judge bang him hammer on him little wooden block for quiet. Ask the head jury man to stand and if him reach a verdict. The head jury man tell him, ‘Yes, we have, Your Honour,’ as him open up a piece of paper and begin to read it out.
‘The mulatto slave William.’ The room go silent. I feel me legs start to tremble, can barely stand. The crowd start to murmur and buzz like them want to swarm all over me, sting me till me dead.
‘Not guilty.’
I look to Stella, her face is aglow. ‘Me son,’ she whisper. ‘Praise the Lawd. Me prayers, dem been answered.’
The judge bang on him box for quiet, so the head jury man can continue. ‘The Negro slave Stella. Guilty as charged!’
The judge can barely be heard as the crowd cheer and stomp them feet when him pass the sentence.
‘The Negro slave Stella, I pass a sentence of death. She will be taken to the public square and hanged by the neck until dead. May God rest her soul!’ And, for the last time, him bang him hammer on the little wooden box.
As soon as the trial over, the guards take Stella back to the gaol, the sound of the crowd cheering and whistling following behind the wagon as she get taken away.
When the crowd gone, Mister Grignon tell me somebody going come to fetch me. The guards herd me down the stairs and out into the back of the courthouse to wait. I feel faint, have to sit on the steps, not able to move. I hear me name, look up and there is Winnie, walking towards me. She take me by the hand like a little child, lead me to Mistress Josephine house, put me to bed. Hold me in her arms like she Granny Callie and let me weep long and hard like I couldn’t let meself weep before. And when I wake, me come to know, even though Winnie and Mistress Josephine not in the court, them been following the trial from afar. Mistress Josephine sent little Rose off to stay with relatives in Kingston, trying to shield her from all the court business. And she sign a permission slip so I can stay in town to witness what going happen next.
All Is Silent
Is a hot day. Hot like any other day. No air. No little breeze to cool you. And the air is as dry as the cane stalks when they get crushed in the mill. In the town square a big crowd already gathering. Everybody acting like is one big holiday. All I can think bout is how thirsty I is. How dry me mouth feel. How much I want to drink water till it start to pour out through me skin. Create a river round me, so I can float away.
I stand at the back of the crowd, watching as them wheel in Stella, chained up, sitting in the back of a horse-drawn cart. Notice that she don’t look at people. Only look at things. The leaves. The clouds, the blue of the sky. The stones in the road. The fancy houses piled up one beside the other. The horses pulling the cart she riding in. And when they reach the town square, the soldiers drag her out the cart, make her walk up the steps of a wooden platform them build in the middle of it. Get her stand beside a hanging rope, but is like she don’t know that hanging rope is meant for her.
They turn her to face the crowd. Is a big crowd, all dressed in them Sunday best. Clothes I know she wish she have. She don’t look at them backra faces. Only search out the black. Search and search to see where her first born standing. Hoping him not going be there. Hoping I is. Finally she see me, standing off to the side. Resting against the tree trunk. Not knowing that the tree holding me up because without it, I going fall down in a heap. And when her eyes find me, I look everywhere else, except at her.
And I wonder if Stella, in her last moments, look pon me and see how the world shape me. See how I grow big. Grow strong. See how Massa face mixed up with her face. And what she see is a good face. At least she give me that. Is me she been the hardest on. Going all the way back to when I was a pickney. Carry the burden of the lie that I is not Massa son.
Why? Why she want to hurt Massa so much? Hurt him the way him hurt her, it make her hurt me even harder.
‘Love is one cruel taskmaster,’ Calla used to say.
Can’t change nothing now. But Stella’s last act was a good one. Make sure I have a chance at life, take all the blame for killing Massa. Make sure backra know the truth of it, that I didn’t do the deed. I knew, though. We all knew, that one day she going take her eye. Sacrifice Massa to the ancient Ancestor god. Make Massa pay for all the things him done, specially what him done to them daughter. And I come to understand, Massa death was the only way. The only way she could free Eliza from him web. Not have to watch as him strangle the life out of Eliza, like him strangle hers. Even if it mean she have to sacrifice herself in the doing of it.
It seem like Stella stand on the little platform for a long time. And I feel how the heat of the day start to rise and know that heat going rise, again and again, to heat another day. Another day when she no longer going be in it. No longer have to get up early, to work hard. To pray. To worry bout us, if we going get enough to eat.
I feel Stella looking at me. Wanting me to look at her. To look in her eyes so she can tell me she sorry. I don’t know where I get the strength from, but finally I look up at her. See how she look into the face of death with dignity. See her eyes, they like loving pools of light and she must be come to know, I find it in me heart to forgive her.
Finally, the time has come. The time I been dreading.
It happen so slow, like it happening to me. I feel the rope coming down over her head like it coming down over mine. Feel how them pull it tight round her neck. Hear backra call out the sentence. Hear it from far away. Hear and feel her heart thumping. Start to race, like the beat of wings against a cage. Beating. Beating. Louder. Louder. Louder than the crowd that sho
ut and whistle, throw stones and rotten food at her.
Then all of a sudden the beating stop. Everything silent. It seem to last a lifetime.
I just stand there, see Stella, me mother, hanging from a rope.
But then I feel her spirit fly from out the cage, feel her mind open up as she start to tumble. Tumble back through all the things she live through. Back, back, towards a well of gentle darkness. A darkness that start to shimmer and shine, till it become like a mirror. And in that mirror, Stella see the faces of our Ancestors. All of them lined up in a row, one behind the other, going all the way back to the first of us. And she wonder at the sameness of us, but also the differences. And the face closest to Stella, the one standing right in front of her, is the face of her mother. The face she never see looking out for her, because she die when Stella was a pickney. And she say to Stella, not in words, that is time for her to come and join her. Join in a big celebration with all the Ancestors.
And in the glimmering, I come to know that for the first time Stella going no longer feel afraid. No longer feel the shadow tugging at her guts. She is finally free, like William the Second, her spirit circling in the cloudless blue sky, high up above the world of slavery.
After Stella gone over to the Ancestors, the world turn inside out. Calla still holding the spirit of the place, is true, but Stella was the rock, the ground we all stood firm on. When Stella was in one of her moods, she turned cold, gave you the silent treatment. Was better than the wrath and fury one, but I yearn to see her standing, her hands on her hips, giving me the look that say, ‘What you think you doing, boy?’ Sometimes at twilight, when daytime slipping away to make room for night, I think I see her stirring the cooking pot, bending low. Her face coppery, alight from the fire. But then I look again and is only a shadow inside shadows, a mirror of me wounded heart.