Dominion

“Oh, it’s just foolish,” she protested, as she looked at the spun lace cloth. “What do I need with such a thing around here?” She could not, however, disguise her merriment at being presented with something so precious, or, for that matter, at receiving anything besides another pair of sturdy boots.

Nor was it his only gift to her. As he unpacked the crates there were all kinds of sweets and delicacies, such as had barely been available for sale in the place before but which were now well within their means. He drank in celebration of his growing wealth as well as the commerce that made it possible. He had amassed a sum of capital that was tremendous to his mind, and he knew exactly what it was worth and what purpose to put it to.

“I have another family I left back in Virginia,” he said to Sa

“What do you mean another family?” she asked, even as she had always suspected he kept secrets from her. “You have another wife?”

“Not legal like you and me, at least, but yes, you can say another wife.”

When she heard this she began to cry and berate him. “I always knew you hid things from me,” she said, sobbing. “What else is there? Do you have other children? Why, I bet you have them all the way up to Massachusetts!”

“Just one, Sa

“You never told me about another family,” she said, still tearing.

“That’s because I couldn’t do anything about it,” he answered. “I can now and intend to.”

“Intend to what?” she asked, sitting up. “What are you going to do?”

“Buy them out,” he answered her. “It don’t affect you and me, but it is what I promised them and still intend.” It had been his heart’s truth for longer than he could bear, although when he made the promise it had seemed like an earthly impossibility.

“You can’t bring another woman here; I won’t stand for that!” Sa

Merian chewed the inside of his mouth and said nothing else. He tried eventually to embosom and comfort his wife, whom he did love, until she could sleep. But in his pocket that money from the harvest lit him with singular purpose.

He rises the next day, before the sun has gained the rim of the horizon, while his wife still sleeps soundly, and saddles the gelding. Sa

He stopped for lunch at his customary time and ate in the saddle, to save an hour before taking back to the road again. The last time he was on this path he had been pressed to it by the legal inability to earn a wage and the misery that ensued. Still, he did not consider this ride back triumphant, for he did not know what to expect. He only knew he was in better condition than before — when he was beyond whipped and defeated and damn near dead. He tried not to think about it any longer or ever again, but if he did speculate in isolated moments he surely did not dwell on it, and certainly not on the last night before his manumission was a legal fact. Ebsen, the overseer, had visited him then at the party they were having in one of the cabins and, unprovoked, smashed him full in the mouth with a leather-wrapped fist.

Everyone in the room stared between the two, waiting for a response as the blood welled in Merian’s lip and Ruth clutched their boy toward her bosom.

Merian looked at the other man quizzically, determined not to be hedged. “I thought you and me were friends, Ebsen,” he said. “We never had discord before.”

“Well, we got it now,” Ebsen answered, smacking him again with his sheathed fist. “You think you’re better than everybody else here.”

The other men in the room made a cordon of bodies around the two combatants, though they knew it would take much more provocation for Merian to box.

“I’m not better than anybody,” Merian said, as the other man drew up to strike him again. “But I’m no less than anybody either.”

Ebsen beat his mute hand against Merian again, as if he wanted to teach him a lesson, though he himself did not know what lesson that was. He knew only that the other man’s lot had changed and his own had not; not for six years had it changed at all. He beat him in accordance with no known law but only because men do not like to know defeat, and he felt, with Merian’s advancement, something was lost to him, so tortured whatever he might to rectify that feeling.

He struck him again and Merian withstood the blows with his hands raised in defense and an equanimity that bordered on indulgence.

I bet he won’t try to hit me again, Merian thought now, as he drew himself up in the saddle and spurred the horse. I bet won’t nobody ever lay another living finger on me. The memory, though, of what had passed before filled him with a shame he could not speak. I hope Ebsen is the first person I see when I get to Sorel’s Hundred.

He rode for three days, barely stopping to sleep, as he stoked in his imagination the narrative of how the journey would play out and all the flattering variations of his original imagining. They were almost as fanciful as those of his last night on the old place, when he dreamed himself larger than his natural size, which was very mighty, striding a great mountain and holding a balled gavel in his hand. To the east the skies parted and he saw an antelope’s head rear and stare after him, as if to give chase. He responded by ru

A mile from the main gate he stopped the horse and went into the bushes, where he changed into a new set of clothes, like war paint or a lover’s talisman, which he hoped would render him stronger to stand and face the combined forces of time’s elapse before proceeding. He sat high in the saddle, marking the things he knew from those he did not recognize as he headed to the stable. In front of the red brick building, a crowd of children formed around him, all from curiosity but none in recognition. He dismounted and walked the horse to a fence post, stopping to shine a small one without hair on top of the head, and asked if they knew whether Ruth was round back.

The children giggled at him and ran off as he went on ahead, back to one of the old cabins, where he paused at the door to remove his hat before knocking on the weathered gray wood — as he realized that to let himself in was no longer his right. When he lowered his hand he heard movement from inside, causing him to hold his breath as the wooden slats gave way, and he laid eyes upon Ruth for the first time in over five years.

When she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, he could plainly see she did not immediately trust it was him, as she looked on him as you might a phantom, or else something half-dream in origin. When he called her name, though, she responded by coming nearer, and they were both torn by a series of complex emotions as he entered the room.