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By Root 1391 0

of one conspirator after another, and finally of Gabriel Prosser himself, news of the Richmond uprising—and of the tensions it generated—gradually subsided, and once more politics became the chief discussion topic among the massa and his friends, and therefore also within the slave row. As best Kunta, Bell, and the fiddler could piece together what they overheard in various ways about the voting for the next President, a Massa Aaron Burr had run a tie with the famous Massa, Thomas Jefferson—who finally had gotten the job, apparently since he was supported by the powerful Massa Alexander Hamilton; and Massa Burr, an archenemy of Massa Hamilton, had been made Vice President.

No one seemed to know much about Massa Burr, but Kunta learned from a buggy driver who had been born in Virginia not far from Massa Jefferson’s Monticello plantation that his slaves declared there couldn’t be a better massa.

“Dat driver tol’ me Massa Jefferson ain’t never ’lowed his oberseers to whup nobody,” Kunta shared with the slave-row people. “An’ dey all eats good, an’ he let de womens spin an’ sew ’em all good clothes, an’ he b’lieve in lettin’ ’em learn different trades.” After Massa Jefferson returned home from one long trip, Kunta had heard, his slaves had met him two miles from the plantation, unhitched the horses, and gleefully pulled the carriage that long distance to the Monticello big house, where they carried him on their shoulders to the doorstep.

The fiddler snorted. “Pret’ near eve’ybody know plenty dem niggers Massa Jefferson’s own chilluns by high-yaller woman he own, name o’ Sally Hemings.” He was about to say more when Bell contributed the most interesting thing she knew. “’Cordin’ to a kitchen maid he use to have dere,” she said, “ain’t nothin’ Massa Jefferson ruther eat dan a rabbit soaked all night in oil, thyme, rosemary, an’ garlic, den next day simmered down in wine till de meat fallin’ off de bones.”

“You don’ say!” exclaimed the fiddler sarcastically.

“See how soon you gits ’nother piece dat rhubarb pie you keeps axin’ me to make!” snapped Bell.

“See how soon I axes you!” he shot back.

Refusing to get caught in the middle, as he had so often been in the past—in trying to make peace when his wife and the fiddler started in on each other, then turned on him for butting in—Kunta acted as if he hadn’t heard, and simply continued where he’d left off before they interrupted.

“I heared Massa Jefferson say slavery jes’ bad for white folks as for us’ns, an’ he ’gree wid Massa Hamilton it’s jes’ too much nachel diffrence fo’ white an’ black folks ever to learn to live wid one’nother peaceful. Dey say Massa Jefferson want to see us sot free, but not stickin’ roun’ dis country takin’ po’ white folks’ jobs—he favor shippin’ us back to Africa, gradual, widout big fuss an’ mess.”

“Massa Jefferson better talk to dem slave traders,” said the fiddler, “’cause look like dey got diffrent ideas which way de ships oughta go.”

“Seem like lately when massa go to other plantations, I hears’bout lots of peoples gittin’ sol’,” said Kunta. “Whole families dat’s been all dey lives roun’ here is gittin’ sol’ off down South by dey massas. Even passed one dem slave traders yestiddy on de road. He wave an’ grin an’ tip ’is hat, but massa ack like he ain’t even seed ’im.”

“Humph! Dem slave traders gittin’ thick as flies in de towns,” said the fiddler. “Las’ time I went to Fredericksburg, dey was buzzin’ after sump’n ol’ an’ dried-up as me, ’til I flash my pass. I seed a po’ ol’ graybeard nigger git sol’ off fo’ six hunnud dollars. Young healthy buck use to fetch dat. But dat ol’ nigger sho’ didn’t go quiet! Dey’s jerkin’ ’im off’n de auction block, an’ he bawlin’ out, ‘Y’all white folks done made Gawd’s earth a livin’ HELL fo’ my peoples! But jes’ sho’ as JEDGMENT MAWNIN’ gwie come, y’all’s hell gwine bounce BACK on y’all dat brung it! Ain’t no BEGGIN’ gwine stop it from ’STROYIN’ you! No MEDICINES y’all make ... no RUNNIN’ y’all do ... none y’all’s GUNS ... no PRAYIN’, no NOTHIN’ he’p y’all den!’ By dat time dey’d drug ’im off. Ol’ nigger soun