The Ember In The Storm

Part III

    Jackson cued for his horse to turn to his left, moving towards the display stage feet from here he was.

Roman quickened his horse fast enough to stand ahead of Jackson's, bringing him to a halt.

"What are you doing?" Jackson furrowed his eyebrows.

"Sir, you have not been answering my repeated question; what is the matter?"

Jackson huffed, "You will not understand," he attempted to walk his horse around his, however being blocked again. Jackson lifted his head over Romans shoulder and caught a glimpse of Elizabeth turning away, pretending to have not seen him.

"You are my General, I must know of any actions that may affect your positions well-being," he spoke like it was a rehearsed line, which it was.

Jackson rolled his eyes towards Roman, attempting to speak before another person beat him to it. 

"General?" A man spoke behind Roman. The two turned their heads only to see a bald middle aged man with a small beard below his chin. He smiled his rotting teeth ahead at the two of them.

"I hear one of you is a General," he stepped towards them, looking up at them both back and forth, wondering which one was the General until stopping on Roman. "Sir, how are you?" He stretched an arm up.

Roman furrowed his face before looking to Jackson, wondering what he was supposed to do. His General inclined his head, gesturing for him to go ahead.

"I am fine," he shook the man's hand, "who are you supposed to be?"

"Ah, me?" He laughed at the question, fixing an invisible tie. "My name is Simon, sir... a small man who works hard to put food on the table. With the war going on, there is so much less for people like us to get..."

Jackson tuned Simon out, looking back to Elizabeth. Still, she avoided his gaze.

Her hair was in a coiled mess, her face was powdered with dirt. The size he had last seen her with had increasingly reduced to that like of a slender twelve year old boy's.

Elizabeth's shoulders slumped, an unfamiliar black dress loosely falling to her knees as she played with her fingers, wrists chained to the floor of the stage between her bare feet.

What is she doing here? Jackson thought once again.

Last time he checked, or was told, she was with Vaughn and perhaps Luke, too. Yet, how did she land in New York? And most of all, enslaved?

How long had she been in New York? All the times he worried, was she just a few miles away from he?

"Are those yours?" Jackson asked, eyes still focused on the stage. Simon stopped talking and turned for Jackson.

"Eh, those?" He looked over to his niggers before up at the man proudly. "Yes... new stock too!" He encouraged them, watching as Jackson stepped down from his horse.

Roman replicated his actions, murmuring to himself at what that man was up to.

"Do you want to buy one?"

"The General does not buy slaves," Roman corrected.

Simone bulged his eyes at the words and looked at Jackson in surprise.

"He is the General?" He asked in astonishment.

The reaction was nothing new. Roman physically held a more commanding presence than Jackson. Although when it came to addressing situations and having the leadership, the latter won.

"Is there a problem?" Roman inquired. Simon quickly shook his head, denying the question.

"How long have they been here?" Jackson asked in a gravelly voice.