FICTION — RESTIVE SOULS
The Tale of Shyllandrus Zulu: Chapter 5.2
Chapter Five of Part Two: The Assassination
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A Restive Souls excerpt
As told to eminent historian Emmet Bolo by the high priestess Zulu West.
Chapters 1&2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5.1
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12.1
Chapter 12.2
Restive Souls Part 2: Carolina Rising
Zulu’s Tale (1801–1804)
5.2
One day, I noticed Ahyoka walking with Diderot shortly after I had finished performing a late morning ritual with Adwoa to remove broken and sad spirits from a new apothecary built on the grounds of a razed church near the center of Charleston. He had been promising a diplomatic visit from her for months, but she never arrived. So, seeing her was a surprise.
The apothecary’s brick was dyed in indigo ink. One side was decorated by a mural of a medicine woman in traditional clothing healing a small child. The painting was stunning in its realism.
“These are sad spirits,” Adwoa said as we sat outside the apothecary on two birch chairs with tall, rounded backs. “And I sense something else, your grace.”
“As do I. But I can’t grasp its nature.”
“It is the spirit of an undead.”
I thought about this for a moment with my eyes closed. I could not see what Adwoa was seeing. An undead spirit was a spirit representing someone who was about to die.
At that, Diderot approached with Ahyoka. She was wearing a cowskin dress lined with heavy beads down the middle and tightened with a purple sash. The dress was quite open at the chest, nearly revealing all her bosom.
She wore several long necklaces that drooped into her cleavage. Her headdress consisted of several tightly woven ropes around her hair, which sat on her head like a tall, black stool. She carried a long, curved scimitar and looked like she was ready to wield it.
Her triangular jawline was overlooked by two orb-like cheeks and thin lips looking as if they were drawn by a fine silverpoint stylus. Despite her angular jawline, she was a wide, big-boned woman.
Diderot made introductions, and we all bowed.
“It is a great honor to have you visiting our humble city,” I said.
“The honor is mine, your grace,” replied Ahyoka. I wondered if I had achieved transcendence when she said, “I am pleased to see you again, this time as a visitor rather than a host.”
“As am I,” I said, bowing again slightly.
Diderot was smiling broadly.
When I asked why, he merely looked at Ahyoka, whose thin lips also formed a smile. “Monsieur Diderot is pleased with a decision we in the Tsărăgĭ Congregation have made. A decision that I must say was not unanimously popular. But an expedient one, given the politics that have been forced upon this continent by those with the bloodless skin.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Well, do tell,” said an impatient Diderot.
“We have agreed to join the Carolina Union of the Queen,” Ahyoka said.
I hadn’t realized that it had been a choice. The British had made no secret that the boundaries of the new country included Tsărăgĭ lands, albeit with considerable autonomy. It was then that I realized that the politics of the new nation were more volatile than I had previously considered. If the Tsărăgĭ, or any First Settler nation for that matter, did not wish to be part of the Union, they could make their position known in many ways.
Boundaries in North America during the earliest years of the nineteenth century had unique peculiarities. The United Indian Nations, consisting of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy, the Western Confederacy, and approximately 35 other Indian nations, declared itself an independent nation in 1786, even though the Haudenosaunee Confederacy had previously been absorbed into the British-run North American Union. Neither the British nor the North American Union recognized this declaration of independence, but nobody attempted military intervention to counteract it.
In 1791, The Western Confederacy Congregation and Great Lakes Indian Congregation were formed in the Great Lakes Region of the United Indian Nations, following the template of congregational economics of Diderot’s Monrovian congregation. Shyllandrus Zulu was most likely not aware of this development, as word of changing geographies as applied by politics traveled slowly in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.
These congregations became increasingly powerful, as First Settlers began to mix Christian theology with their own flavors of spiritual thought.
Even more confusing to followers of history was the renaming of The United Indian Nations to the Haudenosaunee Confederacy.
Cornwallis had named Joseph Brant Prefect of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy in 1781.
After several bloody skirmishes between the Haudenosaunee Confederacy and the New England Federation, Joseph Brant and Peter Warren Johnson, Superintendent of The New England Federation, toured border regions together with Hesed Williamson, leader of Newport’s First Congregationalist Union and a leader of the eastern seaport slave revolts immediately following the Colonial Rebellion. This diplomacy technically brought peace but didn’t prevent the declaration of independence later.
Brant continued in his role even after the Indian Nations declared their independence from Britain and the North American Union, but he also, in effect, pretended none of that happened. The Indian Nations continued a reasonably peaceful coexistence with the North American Union as trade between congregations blurred national boundaries.
Things changed in the 1830s when another smallpox outbreak threatened First Settler nations in the Great Lakes Region with extermination. A physician from the Carolina Union, Abi Mo, traveled throughout the Great Lakes with a vaccination program. Still led by Brant, the Haudenosaunee Confederacy formally joined the Carolina Union in 1837.
The Tsărăgĭ during all these years acted independently of other First Settler nations. Their reach extended into the Carolina Union, the New England Federation, and United Indian Nations boundaries. They considered themselves as one group answerable to none of these entities, but individual Tsărăgĭ congregations and regional authorities often acted with an allegiance to the larger national country that surrounded their settlements.
I wasn’t planning on discussing my musings, but it seemed as though Ahyoka could sense them when she said, “Our congregation is strong. We are confident in our autonomy.”
I thought about that. We all wished for eventual autonomy from the crown. “As are we,” I said.
“I believe we are stronger together,” she replied firmly, her smile now a memory.
“As do I,” I replied. “But I must declare that I do not consider the British our enemy. We are a part of the crown, which gives us certain advantages.”
“It offers a navy and gunpowder, and a few good legal and architectural minds,” she nodded. “These will be useful for a time. Until they are not.”
“And teachers,” added Diderot. “And industrialists.”
“Industrialists.” Ahyoka spat on the ground. “Good for nothing but raping the earth.”
“I believe we have previously entertained this discussion,” said Diderot.
“They will ruin our soil and bury our souls deep into the poisoned hearth of our ground,” said Ahyoka. “They have no place on Tsărăgĭ land.”
“Then you will find Tsărăgĭ land buried by the poisoned soil of the industrialists,” said Diderot. “The Europeans use industry to conquer. They shall do the same here if we do not ourselves indulge its arts. Without the excesses.”
“The very nature of industry is excess,” replied Ahyoka. It was clear that whatever discussions Diderot had with Ahyoka regarding the development of modern industrial processes that were becoming prevalent in Britain had not resulted in the same agreements as he had with me.
For our people, it was an easy decision to adopt industry to keep the British and other Europeans at bay. For First Settlers, who worshipped the land with religious fervor, rejection of industry was as natural as a sneeze.
Before the British arrived on their soil, they had enjoyed the freedom to roam their lands as they pleased. Our experience was quite different. We deemed industry a useful tool for avoiding future oppression.
“You speak of how we are stronger together,” I said. “Perhaps, in time, as Charleston equips itself with industry, we shall partner in trade in such a way that your knowledge on the proper use of the land can be exchanged for aspects of our industry you are willing to absorb. We can begin discussions at any time.”
“I am aware that the nations of the hunted and chained are forging ahead with this foul marriage with the devil,” she said. “My apologies for the pun,” she smiled.
“I believe,” I answered, “that it was an arranged marriage, made with no romantic intent. I agree with Monsieur Diderot. If Europeans are the only industrialists on this continent, we shall all perish. The Europeans may not shackle us with chains, but shackle us they will.”
“A point our mutual friend has made many times,” Ahyoka said, glancing at Diderot.
“Besides,” I said, “our people have taken well to industry. The ironmaster at the large blast furnace next to the foundry is currently looking at a new process for blasting called the hot blast. I know nothing of this, or what it even means, but I am told that it significantly reduces the use of coal.”
Ahyoka shook her head. “The devil’s fuel. Coal shall destroy our green earth and kill the good spirits who live there. Word of your use of it became a fuel of its own toward resistance to the news I bring to you on this day.”
“The devil’s fuel for you. Freedom for our people. We would leave your lands if we could, your grace. But here we are, against our wishes. We prefer to remain free.”
Ahyoka nodded at this. “It is a grave choice — one I have been able to describe well to my congregation. Perhaps our partnership will take these tools of industry and find ways to make them more merciful to the spirits of the land. Perhaps by having our blessing, you will allow us to help nurture your industry in ways that do not char our lands with the devil’s breath.”
“I will admit that we have not considered such things. Such a perspective would be most welcome.”
Diderot’s silence ended with, “Well, your grace, I have considered these things and discussed them without our new friends. I propose a working group of some kind among all congregational trade partners. One that carries representatives of all involved. Task this working group with nurturing the land amongst our foul industries.” Diderot did not consider industries foul, but diplomacy forced the words out anyway.
“An overly aggressive approach will halt progress, I’m afraid,” I said, somewhat surprised at my reaction. I immediately regretted my choice of words. I looked at Ahyoka and said, “I use the word progress operatively, and not in small part, regrettably.”
“I understand your point,” she answered. “Yet the working group must have some authority, or it will become nothing but a mouthpiece for helpless complaint.”
“We don’t need to work out the details during an impromptu meeting in front of an apothecary,” said Diderot. “All this diplomatic minutia urges me to consume all the medicines inside. Are we agreed on the necessity of such an authority, one with real authority as opposed to an instrument of propaganda?”
Ahyoka and I nodded our heads.
“Outstanding,” said Diderot. “I will work with The Guidance of Light and other small congregations to broaden the agreement.”
It was then that I noticed three Tsărăgĭ warriors standing far back watching us. They did not look friendly, but since they were probably bodyguards, I didn’t think much of it. I wondered how many other warriors were guarding Ahyoka in stealth. I looked at Diderot, thinking he surely knew the precise count. He was that way.
The warriors stood silent and still, like trees impervious to the wind.
I invited Ahyoka and her warriors to lunch with us. But when she turned to inform her soldiers that she would be staying, they were gone, as if lifted into the air and made a part of the wind in the blink of an eye.
She looked at Adwoa, then Diderot, who slid a blade from a sheath at his side, his eyes darting about, his head shifting and turning quickly to interpret the danger.
“Inside,” he said, nodding toward the apothecary. “Quickly now.”
I hesitated, but he pushed Ahyoka and Adwoa with one hand, and Ahyoka rushed through the door, Diderot at her side. And then, just like that, it was too late. Three shots rang out, and Ahyoka fell to the floor. Diderot, unscathed, screamed in a language I didn’t recognize, then ran through the building, which consisted of nothing more than a room with a long counter.
Diderot leaped over the counter, screeching wildly. Adwoa and I whistled loudly using the tone and pattern of Afriker women in trouble, hoping for reinforcements as I watched Diderot disappear through the door at the other side of the building.
I went inside and knelt at Ahyoka’s head, which was half gone. She had already finished her last breath. Her scimitar rested on the floor beside her. Adwoa continued whistling until two men appeared out of a men’s barber across the street. I assumed they saw the three Tsărăgĭ warriors, or the perpetrators, because one ran in the opposite direction of the other, who, after nodding, came our way.
“What has happened?” he asked as mounds of blood expelled from the remains of Ahyoka’s skull. I didn’t know what to say. I was in somewhat of a shock. My mouth wouldn’t speak. I stood up slowly, still shaken.
“We must find them,” said Adwoa.
The other man returned, out of breath. They were both white men, so I had some difficulty trusting them. The newly arrived man said, “There are three dead injuns over there,” and he pointed. “Behind that building. Throats cut, all three.”
I couldn’t imagine who could accomplish such a feat.
The man reporting on the dead warriors took me firmly by the shoulders. “They can’t get far. We’ll find them. We will find who did this.” He bent down, made the sign of the cross over Ahyoka, and ran off, followed by his colleague.
“Wait!” I yelled. “Diderot is on the chase. You will need each other.”
They both stopped in their tracks, most likely realizing they had no idea where to begin their chase.
“Where did he go?” asked one.
“Through the apothecary.”
“We’ll go around. Desmond, you go that way, and I’ll go around the other, and we’ll meet.”
“We need our guns.”
“No time. Ma’am, I wish I could whistle like that.” With that, he ran off again, along with the other man.
Two more men arrived. They had guns.
I quickly described the events.
“A search party of sorts has begun. They’re off that away,” I said, sounding a bit like a colonial.
“Keep whistling,” said one of the men. It was a siren call of sorts. “More help will arrive; hopefully, someone on horseback.” Both men were neatly attired Afrikers who looked more like barristers or accounting folk than potential posse members.
Adwoa and I stood at the apothecary doorway wondering what to do next. I wanted to check on the dead warriors, but I didn’t want to leave Ahyoka’s body like this. Adwoa could stay, I knew, but she’d be alone. We needed to remain together. So, we whistled some more.
So began a helpless feeling as a few more men came to our aid, then left, with a final couple of men finally remaining to guard us. Others had offered to stay, but I insisted that they track Ahyoka’s murderers.
I feared that this was a well-coordinated attack. But I was unable to guess who might be behind it.
Adwoa revealed her theory while we nervously waited for the next event. A doctor finally made an appearance, but he was quite drunk. I preferred an Afriker, anyway.
“It can be only fellow Tsărăgĭ,” she said. “They must have followed Ahyoka and her guardsmen here. Who else could so deftly do such a thing? Silently slit the throats of three strong warriors?” She shook her head at the impossibility.
I had considered this. Ahyoka had strongly implied that a faction of Tsărăgĭ was against her plans. But if Diderot’s descriptions were accurate, she was highly revered. I could envision one attacker, but not something like this. This appeared to be a well-planned execution.
“It is as if her attackers anticipated her every move. Knew how her guardsmen would be positioned. Knew her plans,” I thought out loud.
This was a nearly irrefutable observation. There were no colonials, the only other group in the vicinity I thought capable of this treachery, who could know enough about Ahyoka’s behavior patterns to accomplish this murder. They would not be familiar with the tactics of her guards, either.
She appeared to be the only target. The shooters could have shot Adwoa. She was with Ahyoka. They could have shot Diderot, too. They did not. All three shots went into Ahyoka, and the assassins, who could not have been the same men who killed the guardsmen, were quickly gone.
The degree of stealth convinced me that the attackers were First Settlers. I didn’t know enough about First Settler politics to know who might dislike the Tsărăgĭ enough to kill their high priestess. Perhaps, I thought, as our wait continued, this was a question for Diderot, who seemed to understand the politics of every knot in the tree across the land.
“Whoever was smart enough to conceive such a plan probably also conceived a plan to effectively leave the city,” mused Adwoa out loud. “Once they find their way to the forests, they will be gone.”
“Let us assume a more optimistic outcome,” I said. “Let’s not infuse our city with the energy of this crime.”
I knelt again beside Ahyoka. “Come,” I said to Adwoa. “Take my hand.”
She knelt beside me and took my outreached hand. “We shall pray for Ahyoka’s soul, and we shall pray for her killers to be found by God if they are not found by our men.”
We prayed and chanted a combination of Christian prayer and Asona spiritual incantations. I directed Adwoa to the forests surrounding the city, and we asked the spirits there to intervene.
A disheveled Diderot returned soon after. His kerchief was missing from his head, his face darkened with mud. “I found one,” he said, “but he escaped after a few rifle shots were exchanged, and then he fled into the forests.” He shook his head. “A militia. No doubt. But whose? I did not get a good look at him. Her other guardsmen are dead, but a few hundred feet from here.”
I shook my head.
“There are some men on horseback searching the forest, but I don’t have much hope they’ll find the vermin who did this.”
“Tsărăgĭ trackers would be useful at this moment,” I said.
“The only candidates are lying in pools of blood.”
The bodies of Ahyoka’s three guards had by now been gathered and taken to a small health clinic near the All Saints Congregation House. Someone had found a sober doctor, who of course could do nothing for the men because the cuts on their throats were clean and thorough. But he was able to clean them up some and swaddle them in blankets.
A small group of men and women began to do the same with Ahyoka. Diderot ordered a couple of lingering men to retrieve the bodies of Ahyoka’s other troops.
I neared Diderot, my face almost against his, as we were close in height. “We must find who did this, Guillaume. If not…”
“The Tsărăgĭ will send a war party, no doubt.”
“Perhaps the original intent,” I said.
“Assassinate one of their own leaders to make a point?” asked Diderot with disbelief. “Then blame us?”
“We can’t know intent. And although we have no real evidence, this was a carefully planned operation. The detail with which it was worked out is extraordinary.”
“No real evidence,” said Diderot. “But sufficient circumstantial evidence to point to an internal plot. I hasten to add this is not an area of expertise for me, your grace. How do I send four Tsărăgĭ bodies, and more, back to Moncks Corner with no explanation on how three of their warriors were sliced along their throats in broad daylight? How to explain her other guardsmen also killed?”
“How many others?”
“Four, five more. Killed by the arrow. The Tsărăgĭ will round up even their children for a return fight against us. If I hadn’t pushed her into the building…” For the first time I could recall, I heard his voice crack.
I sighed. “It’s why we must find the killers. We must not return the bodies just yet.”
“That will enrage them even further.”
“We need to borrow time. Somehow, Guillaume, you must become their hero during this affair.”
Diderot shook his head. “I’m afraid that even in the most optimistic scenario, I will be no hero. I will be blamed for her death even if it is at the hands of their own. Many in the Tsărăgĭ Congregation want to lead lives without interference from anyone. Freed slaves, Europeans, even other First Nations — outsiders are treated with suspicion by many.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that sentiment,” I replied. “The only thing we can control is solving this crime. For that, we need time.”
“Time is not something we will have. If the perpetrators are Tsărăgĭ and they are in the woodlands, they are as much a part of the forest now as the elm and the oak.”
I looked down at where Ahyoka’s body had been and saw Adwoa kneeling again in prayer. She looked up at me. “It shall rain,” she whispered as her eyes went white. A white film of sorts covered her brown irises. Her eyes then appeared to fill with blood.
“Was she hurt in the attack?” asked an alarmed Diderot.
“She is calling Eziza, in order to speak with the abosom and asaman of the forest. It is a difficult thing.” I was silent as I watched her.
But Diderot’s curiosity prompted another question. “What is Eziza?” he asked.
“It is the spirit father; the same one you are familiar with.”
“And the other two?”
“Child gods, angels, if you will, and spirits of the forest and earth.”
It began to rain softly. The skies grew dark quickly as the rain broadened and hardened.
Diderot smiled as he looked into the falling rain. “Adwoa, she is a miracle worker.”
“She may not live to hear you tell her this,” I said, watching her collapse to the ground.
“What is wrong with her?”
“Speaking to the Eziza is no small task. It can take the life force from you.”
“What kind of God would proffer such cost for a little chit-chat?”
I rested my hand on his shoulder. I brushed a long strand of hair from his eye. “We need to send more men,” I said softly. “As many as we can find, and quickly. If we can retrieve but one of these murderers, so be it. It shall help the cause if we can do so. And please do not wear this garment of blame. You pushed us into the building to protect us. It was as natural as eating.”
Diderot nodded at this as I removed a kerchief that seemed to have grown inside the front pocket of my cloak. I handed it to him. It was purple, like the robe I had worn at Chastain’s healing.
“How did you…” Diderot shook his head.
I looked at Adwoa. “She did. Don’t lose this one. I doubt she has another in her.”
Diderot pushed his hair through it and nodded, then left. I knew his kerchiefs to be as important a part of his head as the strands of his hair.
I sat next to Adwoa, who was sobbing, and I held her.
She looked at me through tear-flooded, white-filmed eyes. “They are at the confluence of the Cooper River and Foster Creek,” she said with a baleful voice. “Roland Chastain is with them.”
Notes
Chapters 1&2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5.1
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12.1
Chapter 12.2
In the novel, “Chapters” 5.1 and 5.2 are one full chapter. The chapters are broken up in Medium because it’s a 28-minute read.
The paragraphs are reformatted to allow for more white space than the original text from the novel. This is sort of a Medium audience thing.
The Restive Souls timeline (always in flux):
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