—True indeed, your man special. He so special he goin’ married you quick. That must be it, he goin’ married a nigger gal—pardon me, mulatto gal—and breed up plenty quadroon pickney. Then you goin’ have pretty house and you goin’ even get you own slave to whip. Just like he still be whipping and killing nigger.
—Stop it.
—You stop it. Look down the well, gal, look in this bucket, you know what you seeing? A nigger who not going be a woman till she take womanhood for herself. And you goin’ have to shed blood to do it. There be four nigger on this estate that we can’t trust. Four nigger who getting them business fix tonight. Don’t make it be five.
—Me not ’fraid of you. And me not ’fraid of death either.
—You think so?
—You is the one who say me have the darkness in me.
Homer silent.—Look, you and me not got no cause to disagree, she say. Lilith grab her bucket and turn to walk away.
—You ever hear them talk ’bout Venice?
Lilith stop.
—One, two time, she say.
—Right. And they talk ’bout it like they not supposed to talk ’bout it.
—Yeah.
—Come with me.
Homer take Lilith inside the great house, through the kitchen, turning right down the hallway. They pass the sitting room first, then the conservatory. Further down near the end be the library, where Massa Humphrey is most of the time when he not sleeping. Lilith don’t remember it. She go inside and see a dim, dusty room with shelf and shelf of book that pile so high that they near touch the roof. The shelves swing right round the room and stop at the wide windowsill that look out to the Blue Mountain. That be where Massa Humphrey put him desk. Homer look outside through the window. Then she go back to the door and look left, then right.
—Miss Isobel upstairs, Homer say.—She and the dressmaker trying to figure how to make the wedding dress hide the belly.
Homer go behind the desk and start look through books on the shelf to the right. She run over the books with her finger and stop. Then she run over again. She pull one out and cuss, then pull out the one right beside it.
—Ah! Homer say and put her lips to the top like she goin’ kiss it. She blow and dust scatter like smoke. She open couple page and run across the page with her finger.
—This be the book, the very one here, she say and put the book down on the desk. Lilith move over.
—Me can’t read write-up word, she say. Homer hiss and pick up the book.
Entry the
____
I’ve lost track of days and dates and time is a monster to me. Venice! Quinn impressed on me that pantaloons were quite common and knee breeches the mark of a true gentleman. I asked him how would he have known and this remark seemed to have wounded him greatly. I apologised and such was his good, cheery nature that he let bygones be. He makes me think of the West Indies and what it would be like. Maybe the Irish do have more fire in their chests. Ah, Venice, the Madonna of whores, the whore of Madonnas. The Piazzetta is enough to make Virgils or Blakes out of the most common of men. Alas, it is Carnevale and I venture forth to meet my destiny. Let her be pleasing in bosom and bawdy in speech, for this is Sodom. Onward!
Entry the
____
Two days in Venice. Sodom AND Gomorrah.
Entry the
____
Encountered a few of the fairer sex last night. Fairer than our Prince Regent’s own mistress, I daresay. But do I call them fair? They seemed ripe for the plucking, for the man with a fat purse, of course. One in particular strikes me, but alas I am not as bold as Quinn.
—Enough of this shit, Homer say and turn five more page, then backwards two.—See it deh! This one, she say, and poke the book twice.
Entry the
_____
The most despicable of villains is better than I. Oh, the malcontent that resides in this poor, poor flesh. I regret that grief brings me to verse and makes a mockery of it. But how was I led? Oh God, but that this poor flesh. . . . None of this was my intention, but one day God will lord his judgement over me. The night was young and already filled with young men with the devil in their hearts and blackness in their souls. I will try to be curt. We came upon ladies of the night, women of the oldest profession, who spoke a smattering of English. One I took fancy to and I daresay it was mutual. She carried her fan in the right hand, across her face when she looked at me and I know the ways of Venice. I knew an arrangement was to be had. Then she placed the fan in her left hand and opened it. That confirmed her intentions, surely that must have been so! She led me to her boudoir. Quinn, out of magnanimity, took her friend, who was rather unfed and not as fair. She reached for my sword, so daring was she! and I, I will not repeat such things here, for they are best left out. But she was a thief and she played me for a fool. Thinking I was asleep she rummaged through my things until I made a noise and startled her. She ran for the door but I was swift and I caught her. She had a little knife. It felt like but a little prick but the little knife was deep in my shoulder. Maybe it was the sight of my own blood that made the devil possess me. I forgot all that was intelligent, decent and manly. She grabbed my face and scratched me. This made me even more furious and less sensible. My hands were the devil’s and they worked her. Quinn rushed in and used all of that Irish strength to pull me away. I would not be denied. I started to fight him as well, but he overpowered me. The woman cursed and cursed, saying that she will go for a magistrate for she knows we are British. Then go, you filthy whore, Quinn says and brushed her away. I’m no whore says she in English, sputtering, I remember. And right there both myself and Quinn realised that this lady, if she can be called that, knew or was perhaps accustomed to far beyond her station. A woman seeking her own pleasure was she, perhaps no different from us young men who come to Venice Carnevale with too much blood in our constitutions. There was no question that against two Britons this woman would be listened to. Oh, she went on about how she would tell how she was dragged from her lodgings and ravished, she a poor young lady of the city. And how these men were from the British Isles who were at war with their cousins the French. Quinn grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out the door. I was not listening for it, so the first clubbing sound shocked me to the very bone. Two more came hence. I looked towards the doorway and there was Quinn, wiping his cane and telling me that we must leave Venice that very night. He would arrange it. I try not to think of it. This demon within me. I had not been so furious, so bereft of good sense since I divested Thomas Thistlewood of his front teeth and punched his eye shut at that tavern in the East End. Quinn stopped me there as well. I remember that is how we met. Now he comes along, I daresay to save me from my own madness. Now resides inside me the hope that this will never be known and the fear that one day it will.
—That be how them two work. Massa Humphrey make the mess and Massa Quinn clean it up. You was him last mess, if me memory right. You still think he be angel? Well, angel soon bawl for him tea, so take you bucket and go, Homer say.
—Is what Massa Robert do to that woman?
—What wrong with you? First you can’t read, now you can’t hear?
—What he do to that woman?
—What you think, girl chile? You born fool? He quiet her.
—What that mean?
—Don’t try me patience, gal. She cussing-cussing one minute, then Robert Quinn take her out, then three blow and all the cussing stop. He quiet her the same way them nearly quiet you. Them same two.
—That don’t—
—Don’t what? You must be horse, ’cause them blinkers ’pon you tight. Whatever story you want to make up so you can still make him tea and get sweet fuckin’ is your business. But don’t say you didn’t see for yourself.
Lilith leave her.
—Where’ve ye been? he say.
Lilith jump. Robert Quinn in the kitchen waiting for her. Him eyes heavy. Lilith wonder if him still keep that cane in a safe place. Lilith step inside so slow that one foot knock the other foot. She know he looking at her and she can’t look at him. Between what she hear ’bout Quinn and what she see is what she know, and Lilith don’t know what that is. Then he jump up from him seat and knock it over. He jump at her and Lilith shriek. He didn’t hear. He grab her by the waist and wrap him arm round her. He squeeze tight and lift her up, then he bury him face in her bosom and wiggle him head around and laugh out loud.
—By God, I think Humphrey has come to his senses, lovey! He’s asked me to stay!
28
SO IT COME TO PASS THAT NOBODY COULD FIND ATHENA. LILITH know what happen. Or at least she know what Homer know. Lilith wondering if Athena actually guilty, for Homer looking lately like she who would do something terrible just over what somebody might do. Sometimes Homer talk to her dead pickneys, telling them that they going back to the baba-pla as soon as they can rest in peace. The rest she say in Africa-speak and Lilith stop trying to figure out what she mean. Most time, Homer do this early in the morning when she alone in the kitchen and Lilith by the door outside, listening for what Homer saying to herself. Sometimes Homer chant, sometimes she very silent save for sniffling and moaning. Whenever she do that Lilith try to imagine what her children used to look like, if they was skinny and grey like Homer.
Lilith up early in the morning because her mind heavy again. Homer and Miss Isobel. Seem death pull and pull away at woman until all she have left is her common sense. But then death pull that away too. One woman drinking laudanum and the other want to drink blood. Lilith don’t want to go inside the kitchen to talk to Homer, so she go back to Robert Quinn quarters. On the way back she pass by the greenhouse. That early in the morning Lilith don’t expect nobody but as she pass by she hear a voice. Gorgon, she think, either talking in her sleep or getting rut by some dirty little niggerman. Lilith think about this and can’t picture any man rutting that midget. This make Lilith curiouser. Lilith hear the voice again, rough and gruff, like a little man, like Gorgon, but she hear another voice too, a sharp whisper that both loud and quiet. Callisto. The third voice she can’t reckon. But she know that she know it. She know well enough to not like that voice at all. Lilith push herself up to the window and look inside. There beyond row and row and shelf and pot of hibiscus and rose and tulip and bougainvillea, they whispering and talking: Gorgon, Callisto and Iphigenia. Gorgon excitable as usual, swinging her hands up and down and jabbing as if she stabbing cow. Callisto shake her head and touch Gorgon shoulder. Gorgon push her off. Callisto slap Gorgon shoulder and Gorgon yelp. She go to rush Callisto but Iphigenia jump in the way and hold her back, saying something that Lilith can’t hear. Then Iphigenia say something, looking first at Gorgon and then at Callisto. Both hold they head down low until Iphigenia done talk. Then they quiet. Then Callisto say something and Gorgon nod. Iphigenia smile and go to say something but she look up suddenly. Lilith stoop down quick and wonder if she get catch. Gorgon she could outrun and Iphigenia, but not Callisto. She hear they voices again and look up slow. Iphigenia again doing the talking. Callisto finger on her mouth as she nod yes. Gorgon mouth say something that look like
now
. Lilith sure. Then they set to leave and Lilith jump. She look left and right and have nowhere to go. The doorway in her direction. Lilith rush to the side of the greenhouse, moving round the side as they coming, almost step for step. She hide by the side as they leave.
—Bitch have it coming, Gorgon say.
Lilith wait until they out of earshot. There be only one nigger on this estate that Gorgon, Callisto and Iphigenia all hate.
She run back to Robert Quinn quarters. Lilith all sweaty and trembling and she touch her chest trying to calm herself. Gorgon, Iphigenia and Callisto all plotting ’gainst her. But how she to know? As much as they can’t stand Lilith, she don’t give none of them niggers reason to fix her business. Lilith can’t imagine what she do. She start to think that she reading two meaning out of one word, that she becoming Homer. Then she remember that most of them did angry that Homer did break the six and add on a seven again, ’specially since the last number seven was that bitch Circe. But Circe not a turncoat at all, just not the monster nigger that Homer want. Lilith look round for the biggest, sharpest knife in the kitchen. A hand grab her by the waist and she scream. Robert Quinn laugh as he lift her up.
—Lord, lassie, ’tis only me. Wasn’t going to trouble ye, but since yer up, fix us some breakfast, luv, he say.
Robert Quinn gone off to
the field and Lilith figuring that since Callisto and Iphigenia work outdoors, she don’t have need to fear them two. That leave Gorgon. Lilith think about Callisto and Gorgon and hate them more, especially Gorgon because she just add one more thing to make her mind heavy. Maybe is heaviness that driving Homer to talk to her dead pickney, cooing like they be baby one minute and chanting like they be African spirit the other. But Gorgon is a coward, Lilith come to see, and she not goin’ act alone. At least so she hope. Lilith start to wonder if there be anywhere that she goin’ have a little peace. And the only person that make her smile is a white devil that used to whip her. She want to hate him for taking her into the room of white woman feelings because a nigger know that sooner or later something or someone goin’ remind her that she black. Maybe Callisto. Maybe Quinn. Now that he staying, one more weight get put on her back and she can’t stand it. Sometimes she wish the great God would come and flood out everybody again. The field, the estate and the county. The country and the world. Maybe everybody start again and slave is free and free is slave. She chuckle.
Lilith in the kitchen trying to get Homer alone. No sign of Athena. Miss Isobel come down and ask where she be and Homer say that she sickly bad and confine to her hut. Miss Isobel ask to see her and Homer say that she too sickly ma’am, with the flux, a lady like you the flux will kill for sure. At first Miss Isobel screw up her face. Lilith remember that Miss Isobel know nigger ways and nobody fool her about bloody flux the last time. Lilith feel her heart beating but Homer still like a tree. Then Miss Isobel turn to go back upstairs, the flask sticking through her dress like a third titty.