Changed Circumstances

By: Jean-Christophe
(© 2011-2012 by the author)

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Chapter 52

“Arrogance, Impertinence and a New Fear” 

Guy Maratier:

The request to meet with Miles Fortescue and Francois Fournier was unexpected and left me curious. Why would these two, young scions of “old-moneyed” families want to meet with me? What possible business could I have with them? 

I’d met Miles on just two occasions. The first of these was nearly two years ago at Lionel Schuster’s slave-market the day I’d taken my former head steward, Cato to be sold and to have an obligation free appraisal done on my new slave, Rafe.

Co-incidentally, Miles had been there with two friends; from memory he was assisting a rather dim-witted one - I believe his name was Daniel Carew - to choose a suitable slave as a birthday present from his father. Their presence that day had proved providential. All three - and the third one was introduced to me as Jack Stanford – were boyhood friends and schoolmates of Rafe back in the days when he was Lucien Barrois.  And I had used their presence to further humiliate my hated, distant cousin and to publicly shame him in their presence. 

I recall that Rafe was under great stress that day. As I and his three former friends enjoyed cool drinks in the shade of an awning, Lionel Schuster had worked Rafe hard in the full glare of a merciless sun. Ostensibly, it was a test of my slave’s fitness and Lionel had Rafe run the length of the sun-blasted courtyard carrying impossibly heavy rocks and wooden logs from one end to the other.

However, I saw Lionel’s motives quite differently; he was using the occasion to return all the insults and slights that he’d suffered over the years at the hands of an aristocratic and arrogant Lucien Barrois. I knew this and I willingly allowed it to happen; it was just another way to shame Rafe and to impress upon him how far he’d fallen. 

Oh, I salivated at the sight of my naked and sweat-streaked slave staggering, bent-kneed, under the ever-increasing weight of the rocks and logs that the slave-dealer forced upon him. I watched approvingly as Lionel Schuster viciously used his cane to encourage Rafe to lift heavier loads and to move faster. I enjoyed the swishing sound of the cane as it moved through the hot, resisting air and the loud “thwack” as it left its angry, red mark on Rafe’s exposed flesh and reverberated within the closed confines of the courtyard.

I relished the sight of Rafe bending to pick up a rock or a log and struggling to stand and lift it over his head. The sight of Rafe bending at the waist with his legs splayed wide to maintain his equilibrium only added further to his shame. The spectacle of his sweat-soaked balls hanging low in the heat, the red stripes of the slaver’s cane decorating his ass and his stretched sphincter “blinking” in time with his laboured breathing all added to my salacious enjoyment. 

Yes, and I really revelled in Rafe’s ultimate debasement in front of his former friends.

I deeply regretted that my beloved grandmother, Charlotte Maratier wasn’t present that day to witness Rafe’s disgrace. She’d have loved it and like me she would have relished the sweet feeling of revenge at his suffering. 

After all, it was she who’d engineered Lucien Barrois’s fall from grace, the loss of his property and even his freedom. Why, the courts had even stripped him of his name and I’d given him the slave name, Rafe. My grandmother’s need for revenge was justified given her family’s rejection of her and her banishment to years of unremitting poverty. Who could blame her for destroying the once proud and illustrious Barrois family and consigning it to the rubbish-bin of history?

That evening, I’d related to her all that had happened to Rafe at Lionel Schuster’s and how I’d humiliated him in front of his former friends. My account of Rafe’s discomfort pleased her enormously – she often smiled at my words – and at one stage, as I told her of Rafe’s striped ass, she laughed out loud. I can truthfully say this was a rare occurrence. My grandmother seldom laughs or smiles.  But she did that night; so great was her pleasure at hearing about Rafe’s suffering.

Sadly, today my grandmother is seriously ill. Paralysed and rendered speechless by an untimely stroke she lingers bedridden and attended to by her slaves. Her condition breaks my heart and her incapacity distresses me to see it. No matter how busy I am, I make it my business to visit her every day to check on her condition and to ensure her slaves are taking proper care of their Mistress. And woe betides any slave who fails in his duty!

Very recently the team of medical specialists I pay to monitor my grandmother’s condition warned me that her time on this earth is fast running out and I should prepare myself for the worst. They said death could come for her at any time.  Despite this warning, my emotions haven’t prepared me for this eventuality and I know when she does succumb, I will miss her. Apart from my son, Etienne, she is the most important person in my life and her absence will leave a raw and gaping wound.

Returning to that day two years ago; at one point, Rafe begged me for water to quench his raging thirst. His temerity for asking resulted in him being punished by the malevolent Lionel Schuster and I, of course, would have refused his request.  I wanted Rafe to watch as I and his former friends quenched our thirst in the shade of the awning while he suffered in the blazing heat of the yard. However, Miles stepped forward and gave Rafe the water he so desperately needed. Miles’s action nonplussed me and angered Lionel Schuster who protested most vociferously at this intrusion into his handling of my slave.

At first, my sympathies were with Lionel; I too was annoyed that Miles had intervened and as I watched Rafe quench his thirst and then thank Miles, I became angry and started to remonstrate with Miles. But my inexperience in handling slaves was very evident and I had no answer for his argument that the slave-dealer had driven Rafe too hard to the point of heat exhaustion. Miles told me that his father always ensured that his slaves were adequately watered and to wantonly deny water to a slave could result in the loss of the slave. Sarcastically, he added that a slave was a valuable commodity and that the wise slave-owner took all precautions to protect his investment.

Mile’s tone was condescending – as though he was speaking to a novice - and his explanation was more of a lecture and I deeply resented his superior manner. Nevertheless, I accepted his advice and excused his interference - much to Lionel Schuster’s chagrin. I certainly had to rebuild fences with the slave-trader over that incident.

My second meeting with Miles was shortly after our first meeting. To further humiliate Rafe, I’d invited his three former friends to a soiree at my home where I had Rafe serve them as a slave and I’d made him available to service their cocks with his mouth. How gratifying it was to see the once proud Lucien Barrois on his knees serving a free man’s cock as a naked slave. That too had pleased me!

After that night, I had no further contact with Miles Fortescue. I’d received no note of appreciation for my hospitality to him and his friends and I have never received a reciprocal invitation to visit with him.

At first, I’d felt slighted by this snub. However, I eventually put it out of my mind and never gave Miles and his two friends a second thought. Now the young upstart has asked that he and Francois Fournier meet with me. And I am left wondering about their reason for such a meeting.

I have never met Francois Fournier or any members of his family even though they own the plantation and quarry that adjoins La Forêt. I’m aware that the Fournier family were friendly with the Barrois family and that Rafe – as Lucien Barrois – was a friend of Francois and his brothers.

I suspect I was deliberately ignored by the Fournier’s. Obviously, my humble origins are an insurmountable barrier to them ever acknowledging my existence. On inheriting the Barrois fortune and estates, they’d not paid me a courtesy call or sent me their good wishes.  I had seen this as a snub but never allowed it to unduly worry me. Therefore, the request to meet with Francois also came as an unexpected surprise to me.

In the two years since inheriting the Barrois Empire, I have become an economic force that can no longer be ignored by the community at large. I have good relationships with the entrepreneurial class who, after all, are the people who matter most. It is they who generate the jobs and wealth that power our economy whilst the old aristocratic families are content to rest on their laurels and hark back to their colonial heritage of large plantations, grand mansions and never ending social seasons of grand balls, music recitals and polo matches. They are so hidebound by their traditions that they can’t see they are becoming increasingly irrelevant in today’s world. It seems to me that they are sliding into genteel oblivion while the entrepreneurial class of “movers and shakers” are upwardly mobile and they now make up the new social elite.

Certainly, I consider Etienne’s future lies with the “new money” families rather than with the established, aristocratic ones. I encourage him to seek out his friends from among the sons and daughters of the newly emerging, mercantile classes.

My first reaction was to refuse to meet with Miles and Francois. After all, I felt I owed them nothing. However, my curiosity was aroused about their request for such a meeting. Were they seeking donations or my endorsement for one of the many charities that their families supported? If so, I’d write them a cheque and quickly send them on their way. Or were there other reasons; perhaps they had a business proposal to put to me? Therefore, out of curiosity more than anything, I agreed to meet with them.

Initially, I was tempted to invite them to my home where I could impress them with my wealth and to have my slaves serve them. But I decided against this; to do so would only feed their vanity. Therefore, I had my secretary set a time for our meeting during the working day in a staff conference room rather than in my office suite. This way, I hoped to sublimely impress upon them how little importance I placed upon our meeting.

I did however, decide that I’d not let their past snubs to me influence our meeting. I would greet them politely – if not warmly – and not show any rancour. The meeting is set for 10.30 AM and they arrive promptly on time.

However, I had one of my junior aides meet them in reception and take them to the meeting room. I’d instructed the aide not to offer them any refreshments as my hospitality isn’t called for. Quite deliberately, I keep them waiting until 10.45 AM before I put in an appearance and when I enter the room, I don’t apologize for keeping them waiting.

Both Miles and Francois are sitting together on one side of the long conference table and when I enter, they rise to their feet. Miles reaches out and shakes my hand as he greets me.

“Good morning, Guy! You do remember me, don’t you?”

“Yes I remember you! How are you Giles?”

I deliberately mispronounce his name as a sign that he doesn’t feature prominently in my thoughts.

“It’s Miles – not Giles!”

I detect a note of annoyance at my “mistake” and I smile inwardly. I’ve scored a point.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Miles! Please excuse my mistake?”

“Guy, can I introduce Francois Fournier?”

Francois reaches out and firmly shakes my hand as we exchange our introductions.

“Fournier? That name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it Francois?”

“We are neighbours, Guy. Our plantation adjoins La Forêt.”

“We are next-door neighbours and yet we have never met? How strange it is that we have never done so.”

The meaning of my pointed reference to never having met isn’t lost on Francois. He at least has the good grace to blush as he stammers out a feeble excuse.

“That’s true Guy. I suppose we are both busy men and our paths have never crossed.”

“Perhaps that’s it, Francois. But if I remember correctly I did hear from my plantation manager, Claymore Jackson that we do business with you. That is, if you are the same Fournier’s who operate the quarry near La Forêt?”

“That’s true, Guy! You are one of best customers for our gravel.”

I know this to be true. It takes large quantities of gravel to maintain the intricate system of all-weather roadways which crisscross La Forêt. These roads are essential for the efficient transportation of slaves, machinery and produce to those parts of the plantation where they are needed.

I move to the head of the table and invite Miles and Francois to sit. For the next few minutes they talk about inconsequential things like the weather, the economy and prospects for the upcoming harvests. I sense their unease and I’m sure they are making small-talk to disguise their nervousness. I am about to ask bluntly the reason for our meeting when Miles questions me about my grandmother’s health.

“Guy, I hear that your grandmother is unwell. How is Madame Maratier? Well, I hope?”

I seethe with anger at his impertinence. He has no interest in my grandmother or her health. He is making small-talk and using my grandmother’s illness to ingratiate himself into my good books. Throughout her long illness, with just one exception, no one from the old families has visited her nor have they ever enquired after her wellbeing or sent her their best wishes.

That one exception is Odile Thureau the elderly, widowed cousin of Lucien’s grandmother and of course she isn’t related to my grandmother. The “family” connection is tenuous at best but co-incidentally, she lives in the same cul-de-sac as my grandmother and she had taken it upon herself to visit to enquire after Grand maman’s health. On that occasion, she’d come bearing flowers and these had pleased my grandmother enormously. From then on, Odile, despite her great age and her own infirmities, has become a regular visitor who brings flowers from her garden for my grandmother’s bedside and she will sit with her and talk patiently about the old days and long forgotten people and incidents from their past.

Naturally, Grand maman isn’t able to reply but it’s obvious she understands what Odile is saying to her and is cheered up by these visits which she looks forward to with great anticipation.

Odile is an exceptional person; she is considerate, kindly and full of old-world grace and charm. I am deeply indebted to her for the courtesy and compassion she shows to my grandmother. Odile is a long time widow without children and I have taken it upon myself to discreetly take an interest in her wellbeing. I have instructed my grandmother’s chief steward to keep an unobtrusive watch over Odile and her household.  

As I listen to Miles’s feigned interest in my grandmother, I can’t help but compare his hypocrisy to the genuineness of Odile Thureau. I seethe with indignation and ignore his question which doesn’t deserve an answer from me. Instead, I decide to cut to the chase and ask directly the reason for their unexpected visit.

“Can I ask why you are here, Miles? You’ll appreciate that I’m busy and can only spare you a few minutes of my time.”

The directness of my question confuses them. It’s obvious that they are procrastinating with their inconsequential chit-chat. Both blush and look sheepishly to each other wondering who will speak first. Finally, it is Francois who speaks.

“Monsieur Maratier, we’d like to talk to you about Lucien.”

At least Francois observes the polite niceties in addressing me as Monsieur Maratier as I’ve not invited him to call me by my given name.

“Lucien? Who’s Lucien?”

“Lucien Barrois.”

“You mean my slave, Rafe! Can I remind you that Lucien Barrois, the usurper is no more? He is now the slave Rafe. Please refer to him as such if this conversation is to continue. But what possible interest can you two have in my slave?”

“We want to buy him from you!” Miles blurts out.

“Buy him from me? Are you serious?” I laugh out loud at their impertinence. “Rafe isn’t for sale!”

“Please hear us out, Monsieur Maratier? We are rather hoping that you’ll sell him to us.”

“Why on earth would you want to buy my slave? What possible motive could you have?”

“We want to buy him and set him free.”

“Set him free?  Preposterous! Why on earth would you want to set my slave free?”

“Because it upsets us to see him in such dire distress.”  Francois offers. “We would like to help him.”

The meeting has taken an unexpected turn. It had never occurred to me that they’d come seeking Rafe’s freedom. It is two years since Lucien Barrois was enslaved and I’d thought the notoriety of his case had long gone. I’d supposed that Rafe had been forgotten by everyone but me. Obviously, I am wrong and I wonder about the motives of these two who now seek to re-open old wounds by buying Rafe his freedom.

“Why would you want to do that? What makes my slave so special that you want to free him? Why is his plight any different to the slaves who work on your families’ plantations?”

“Monsieur Maratier, Rafe was once our friend!”

Francois’s reply is simply put but his words are sincere. Obviously, he believes in what he is saying and speaks from the bottom of his heart.  I am touched by his words and in a strange way, I am sympathetic to what he said.

Over the past two years, I too have become fond of Rafe. There is something very appealing about him and I’m not that hard-hearted that I don’t feel sympathy for him. At first, I hated him with an almost pathological hatred. In my own defence, my grandmother had raised me to hate all who bore the Barrois name and in particular the “usurper” Lucien Barrois who had deprived me of my rightful inheritance. And so I rejoiced in his downfall and to my shame I enjoyed humiliating him at every opportunity.

However, as I became better acquainted with Rafe, I came to understand that he wasn’t as my grandmother had painted him. If anything, he was an innocent victim of the bitter feud between his grandfather and my own beloved grandmother. Slowly, my animosity to Rafe dissipated and was replaced with something almost akin to fondness – well as close as it is possible for a free man to feel fondness for a slave. Perhaps this had something to do with the fact that we share a common bloodline albeit that his is diluted – or polluted, depending on your point of view - by the blood of his slave mother. Under other conditions, I believe we could have been close with me acting as a de facto “older brother” to him.

And there is an incredible sadness about Rafe that touches me and tugs at my heartstrings. Once or twice, in a brief moment of weakness, I have even thought about giving Rafe his freedom. However, common sense and practicality tells me that I can never free Rafe.  To do so would be against my interests and those of my son and heir, Etienne.

I have always had a doubt about the veracity of the circumstances surrounding Lucien Barrois’s “slave birth”. Guiltily, there has been a nagging thought that my grandmother had concocted the story as a means of discrediting Lucien and having him enslaved. On occasions, I have broached this subject with her but always her answers were evasive which further fuelled my doubts.  I’d always intended to pursue this with her but her illness now prevents me from ever taking the matter further. In all probability, she’ll take the secret of Rafe’s true birth to her grave and perhaps that is for the best. 

If I were to give Rafe his freedom, would he be content with that? Or would he search for the true circumstances of his birth? I know in his situation, I would turn heaven and earth in my quest for the truth and that is something I can’t risk.

If my suspicions that he isn’t slave-born prove correct, then all I have will revert back to him and Etienne and I would be penniless once again. The truth of the matter is that I have become too used to the wealth, the power and the prestige of the former Barrois fortune to risk seeing it handed back to Rafe.

And should Rafe prove his innocence, an appalling fate awaits my son and me. I would be charged with the heinous crime of bearing “false witness with the intention to defraud” and if found guilty then Etienne and I would be enslaved for life. The prospect of that is too awful to even contemplate.

No matter how fond I am of Rafe, it is better that he serves out his days as a slave rather than Etienne or me.

Rafe will remain a slave!

“Miles, can I ask about your sudden desire to free Rafe? And I ask once more – what makes Rafe any different to the slaves your family owns. Are you working to free them too?”

“Let me answer your last question first, Guy.” Miles seems suddenly to have gained confidence and I detect the growing condescension in his voice. “No, I’m not working to set my family’s slaves free. That would be stupid of me. This isn’t about them; it’s all about Rafe. What makes his situation special? Simply the fact that he was once a close friend and it upsets me to see him so grievously afflicted.”

“And it’s taken two years for you to realize that?” I ask sarcastically.

“To my shame it did take me a while to realize what was happening to Rafe.  And it’s not something I am proud of. But in fairness to me – and to Francois - for over twelve months, we have been working with a number of Rafe’s friends to raise the money to buy his freedom. We believe we now have sufficient funds to offer to buy Rafe’s freedom from you and Francois and I have been delegated to ask you to sell Rafe to us with a view to setting him free.”

“Are you telling me that you have been conducting a ‘Save Rafe from Slavery’ campaign? It’s strange that I’ve not heard of it.”

“It’s hardly a campaign, Guy! We are more discreet than that. We are simply a group of Rafe’s former friends who are concerned for his future wellbeing and who have been working together to raise the capital to make you an offer.”

“Rafe’s wellbeing is not your concern!” I’m annoyed at Miles’s presumption but I remain civil. “How I treat my slaves is no concern of yours or anyone else for that matter. And for your information, Rafe is not for sale!”

“Monsieur Maratier, please allow us to make you an offer for Rafe” Francois interjects. “I’m sure you’ll find it a most generous amount.”

“I’m not interested in your offer! As I said – Rafe’s not for sale. No amount of money you offer can buy him his freedom.”

“But why won’t you consider our offer?  Won’t you at least hear our………….”

I cut Francois short.

“I said Rafe’s not for sale. You’ve asked and I have replied and that should be an end to the matter. My reasons for refusing are my own but since you’ve asked, I’ll tell you what they are. First of all Rafe is slave born – the progeny of a slave woman - and I believe he has to serve out his days as a slave. Secondly, Rafe serves as one of my two ponies and as such his worth to me is far more than any amount of money you can offer. No amount of money could convince me to sell Rafe to you or to anyone else. Rafe is invaluable to me and he is to remain my slave. His ‘wellbeing’ is of no concern to you. You need not worry yourselves about Rafe - or his future. What happens to Rafe is for me – and me alone - to decide.”

“Guy, I beg you to hear us out.” Miles is pleading now, “Isn’t there some way that we can convince you to listen to our offer?”

“Absolutely not! From my perspective, I see this as a futile exercise on your part to assuage your feelings of misplaced guilt. You shouldn’t feel guilty because Rafe is a slave. You didn’t enslave him. He was condemned to slavery the moment his mother conceived him and he is now serving in the role which destiny has assigned to him. And that’s an end to the matter.”

The finality of my words leaves both Miles and Francois crestfallen and speechless. Neither speaks as I stand and take my leave.

“And now gentlemen, you’ll have to excuse me! I have a number of more important matters I have to attend to. I’m sure you can find your own way out. Good morning to you both. And have a nice day!”

There are no farewell handshakes and I watch Miles and Francois dejectedly walk away from our meeting. Their disappointment is plainly evident in their slumped shoulders and subdued talking.

The whole meeting had taken less than thirty minutes and I have reason to be pleased with its outcome.

Later, as I think back over the meeting, my thoughts become more sober. Rafe’s existence does present me with a longer term problem and re-enforces my concerns that a freed Rafe could cause difficulties for me. Certainly as my slave, he can’t cause me any problems or work against my interests.  But supposing he ever regains his liberty, then he is free to investigate the validity of the claims that he is slave born and to agitate for a re-opening of his case. Such actions could challenge my position and endanger Etienne’s future.

What today’s meeting proves is that Rafe still has friends who are working to free him and although I’d won today’s tussle, my instincts tell me the battle isn’t yet over. I am sure Miles and Francois will overcome today’s disappointment and that their group will soon resume their efforts to free Rafe. What is to stop them from searching for the truth or otherwise of Rafe’s birth and turning him into a “cause celebre”? Such a prospect has suddenly become very real.

Damn these interfering “do-gooders”. How dare they meddle in my affairs? Damn them all to perdition!

The other thing for me to consider is that Rafe’s physical presence is an ongoing problem. As long as Rafe is visible to his friends, he provides them with the incentive to continue their efforts to free him.

Their interest in Rafe has taken me by surprise. Hadn’t Miles said they’d been working for over a year to raise the funds to buy him his freedom? How many are there in the group? Who are they and more to the point how much influence do they have?  And I’d thought that Lucien Barrois’s downfall was long forgotten and no longer of any consequence. Obviously, I am wrong and suddenly, I am concerned.

The question remains – “what do I do with Rafe to protect my interests and to safeguard Etienne’s inheritance?”

If I keep Rafe with me, then he is a catalyst for his friends’ ongoing campaign to free him. I can’t allow that to happen or for awkward questions to be asked and yet I can’t sell him. To do so risks whoever buys him being tempted to sell him to the “free Rafe” group and seeing him manumitted and set free.

And given the vagaries of human nature, I am sure, once the euphoria of regaining his freedom dissipates, Rafe would want to know the truth behind his birth and enslavement. In his place, I certainly would and why would Rafe be any different to me. 

And so the question still persists about what to do with Rafe.

There is only one answer. I must arrange for Rafe to quietly disappear. But how do I do that? Sending him to La Forêt isn’t the answer. That would simply be a case of “out of sight but not out of mind” as his supporters would know where he is and that could be an incentive for them to work harder to free him.

I need a permanent solution to the “Rafe problem” and more drastic actions are called for.

I’m vaguely aware that there are slave-traders who export slaves to other countries. There is a strong demand for healthy, male slaves to work on the plantations of South America or the newly emerging nations of Africa.

This could be the solution to my problem. I could secretly sell Rafe to one of these slave exporters and, if necessary, pay an extra premium to ensure that he is sold overseas and guaranteed never to return.

But how does one make contact with such a slaver?  Then I remember Lionel Schuster. I’m sure he’d have contacts within the trade and given his hatred of Rafe, I know he’ll relish the thought of him serving out his days as a heavy duty work slave on some foreign plantation.

Yes, that is it! I will talk to Lionel Schuster about exporting Rafe – very soon!

To be continued...

Posted: 11/30/12