Tales of Nottoway-

When Sam came back to his senses, night had fallen. The stars were bright, although the sky appeared somehow different and the moon was full and gray. While Sam was occupied contemplating his whereabouts, a hand rested firmly on his shoulder. Sam gasped and jumped back. The man grabbed Sam’s shoulders and put a finger up to his lips.

“Shhhhhh, we must be quiet,” he said softly. “The whisperers will find us.”

Sam’s eyebrows raised, and then he peered at the man intently; the voice was so familiar.

“Possum, is that you? But you are no longer a possum,” exclaimed Sam.

“Quite right, sir, my name is Asher and I will explain later, but for now you must trust me. We must be on our way. Wrap yourself in this cloak and be sure to keep the hood covering your head.”

As Sam reached for his cloak, he noticed his attire for the first time. He was dressed in a marvelous gray morning suit much the same as Asher’s. Sam looked down at his feet to find gray, shiny shoes. He then quickly inspected his sleeves to see beautiful ruby and gold cufflinks and twisted around to reach behind him to check for the tails on his tuxedo. Lastly, he touched his collar.

Asher winked and smiled.

“Yes, Sam, you have a bow tie.”

Sam grinned and donned his cape. With that, two gray horses appeared from behind the trees. Neither horse had any marking on it, which seemed unusual, nor did they have any saddles. The horses stood grand and tall, waiting. The reins were the same soft gray color as the horses’ manes, making them barely detectable in the moonlight. Sam looked anxiously at Asher. He had never ridden a horse before, and if the truth be known, he had never even stood this close to a horse.

Asher leapt onto his horse and turned toward Sam.

“Tura, down,” Asher commanded.

Gracefully, Tura bent down to allow Sam to hop on. Tentatively, Sam mounted Tura and picked up the reigns. His heart was pounding.

“Away!” exclaimed Asher.

And then something unexplainable happened. All the nervousness left Sam, and he and Tura streaked across the countryside as if they had been friends for years. Asher and his steed, Rush, led the way. They rode quickly and silently though the night, stopping only briefly to rest. Sam marveled at how effortlessly the horses glided for hours. Their hooves barely touched the ground. The usual galloping noise was absent.

Sam remembered Asher’s warning about the whisperers and wondered who they were. Better yet, he wondered why he was here and if this was nothing more than a bad dream, why had he not yet awakened. And what about Nanny—she must be worried. Sam was lost in his thoughts when he noticed Rush and Tura slowing down. They came to a stop beneath a great tree about ten feet from a stream.

“The horses needed to rest and drink. The water is good here,” Asher said. “We will rest here for about fifteen minutes and then go on. I am sorry, Sam, we just cannot linger.”

Sam nodded his confirmation. He nuzzled under Tura’s tall neck and rubbed the horse lovingly. Several peaceful minutes passed, but without warning the atmosphere changed. Sam lifted his head and began to squint into the darkness. His eyes darted from side to side.

“Asher, there is danger. I can’t see anything but I know something is here!” Sam blurted out.

“Whisperers,” Asher groaned with dread.

Tura began to nudge Sam’s arm and again bowed to allow Sam to hop on. Asher mounted Rush, but it was too late. Black wispy shadows without any form emerged from the darkness. The only noise they made was soft whisperings. Their presence was evil and foul-smelling. Rush and Tura stomped their feet as the dark shadows continued to surround them. Sam was too scared to speak. As if their situation were not dire enough, a pack of wolves had discreetly blocked their escape from every angle. Their teeth were bared, and their growling was deep and guttural.  Barking and snapping with drool oozing from their vicious jaws, they circled closer and closer to Sam and Asher.

Sam’s face grew pale. He was numb with fear. He closed his eyes and began to pray. The growling and barking grew louder and louder. Some howled, as if calling their friends to battle. The wolves drew closer and closer and then—it stopped. Sam nervously opened his eyes. The wolf pack sat proudly at Rush and Tura’s feet. The whisperers were gone.

“Thank you, thank you my friends. We are forever in your debt,” Asher said and made a bowing gesture toward the wolves.

“Are you all right, Sam?” Asher inquired.

“Yes,” was all Sam could feebly mumble.

Asher reigned his horse about. “Let us be away then, before the whisperers regroup for another attack.”

Onward they rode until evening conceded to daybreak. As the sun filtered down through the clouds, Sam saw a land that was truly breathtaking. The landscape was lush and undulating, gently giving way to magnificent snow-capped mountains. A fragrance that was clean and crisp drifted through the air. Apple blossoms weighed down the limbs of the trees as if in a graceful bow to the earth, and fields of wild flowers in an array of stunning colors crisscrossed the countryside like a handmade country quilt. 

“What an odd land,” Sam marveled. “So beautiful by day and so sinister by night.”

Asher and Rush darted into the trees. Sam and Tura followed close behind, and soon they slowed to a complete stop. Suddenly a large white bird with silver on its wingtips swooped down in front of them. Poor Sam was so frightened, he almost fell off Tura. Asher reached over to prop up Sam and once again motioned for him to be silent. Sam wrapped his arms around Tura’s neck and nestled his head in her mane. He was getting tired.

Asher looked behind him. Three wolves sat at attention, watching. They had very quietly followed them as an escort of protection.

Asher smiled, leading Rush from the covering of the trees. “Are you ready, Sam?”

Behind them the countryside disappeared, and within moments they were the center of attention in a bustling community. “Good morning, Asher.” Folks waved and called out as they passed by.

The village was happy and festive. Beautiful flowers lined the streets and hanging flower baskets adorned every lamppost. The streets were paved with red bricks. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. Sam had smelled that smell many times before when Nanny had baked bread. It was an aroma he could not forget. People were happy here. They nodded and smiled to each other and stopped often to converse and laugh. All the shops were open and busy. Directly across the street was a butcher shop from which lively music could be heard. Sam could not see inside because there were too many people coming and going, all giggling and smiling.

“What’s going on over there?” Sam motioned toward the butcher shop.

“Oh, that’s the Dancing Butcher.” Asher laughed. “I will take you to meet him tomorrow.”

Tomorrow! thought Sam. It’s already tomorrow. How long will I be here? And Nanny… Sam’s thoughts trailed away.

Two men came running over to assist them off their horses and take their cloaks. They offered them a tasty, warm drink and handed them each a gray top hat. The men brushed any dust off them and adjusted their coats and ties.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Asher said. “Well, Sam, are you ready to meet the Mayor?”

“Yes, sir. He’s not really a porcupine is he?”

“He is no more a porcupine than he is a mayor,” Asher responded with a gentle smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Sam tilted his head to one side. “Too many riddles for one night,” he sighed. “I am hungry, though. Will there be something to eat?”

“Eat!” Asher grinned. “Wait until you see. Now come along, my boy, and let us keep our appointment.”

Asher took Sam’s top hat and placed it squarely on Sam’s head as he did his own. Then he and Sam walked briskly down the street to a quaint, small café. It had ten tables with white linens and hand painted chairs. Much to Sam’s surprise, Asher walked right through the dining area to the back of the kitchen. Asher nodded to the chef and cleared his throat. With that, a wall moved to reveal a doorway. Asher and Sam quickly slipped through the opening, and immediately the doorway closed behind them. Cautiously, they maneuvered down the narrow staircase. As they neared the bottom, voices and the tinkling of glasses could be heard.  And then the bottom door swung open and a loud cheer arose. Ten men, all dressed in gray morning suits, jumped to their feet, applauding.

Sam froze.  “What is this?” he gasped.

Asher gently took his arm and guided him toward the front.  A man with clear blue eyes and white hair stepped forward to greet them.

“Welcome, Sam,” he began. “Welcome to the Kingdom of Nottoway. You are in the province of Abiel, and my name is Mathias.”

Sam smiled nervously. “An honor to meet you, sir.”

“You must be weary and hungry after your journey. We have a seat right here for you, next to Asher and me,” Mathias directed.

Sam followed Mathias to his seat. Mathias stood for a moment, waiting for the rest of the room to quiet. He removed his hat and bowed his head.

“Ancient One,” he began, “we thank you this day that you have heard our cries and answered our prayers. We ask that you would keep your hand upon us and deliver us from the snare of our enemies. Please bless this food. Amen.”

Sam looked around the room as everyone took their seats. It was a long and expansive hall with wide plank floors. Six-foot-tall portraits hung on the walls all around the room. All had very ornate hand carved frames and an oversized chest of drawers beneath them. Tall bookcases lined with even older books stood on either side of each portrait. The tables the men were seated at were very distinct. The bases were carved in designs matching the portrait frames and the table tops were a light gray marble.

By now Sam was looking around for the white rabbit—surely he had fallen down the rabbit’s hole. I wonder how they got these large pieces of furniture down that narrow staircase? Maybe there is another entrance.

The other gentlemen in the room talked amongst themselves, observing Sam, and in like manner, Sam observed them. Nanny had spent a great deal of time training Sam to be observant. She assured him that one day it would be a necessary and useful tool. Since he knew neither where he was, nor the people in his company, Sam began to take quick inventory. There was just one detail that was evident to him immediately. The hat bands on his hat and on the hat of the man introduced to him as Mathias were maroon in color. All the rest were a darker shade of gray.

What an odd distinction, Sam mused. Shortly, one more man entered the room, dressed in like attire. Sam recognized him as one of the men who had come to take their horses. His thoughts were interrupted when a large plate of food was set before him. He looked at his meal and quickly leaned toward Asher.

“This is my favorite meal. How did you know?” Sam exclaimed excitedly.

His plate boasted a freshly baked steak and kidney pie, a side of steaming spinach, and a mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.

“You may begin, Sam,” Mathias said with a wink.

After his last bite, Sam laid his knife and fork beside each other on the plate, leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his stomach in appreciation of the comfort food. Curious fare for breakfast, but it was wonderful. He sat quietly, patiently waiting for dessert when Asher took one arm and Mathias the other. Sam had fallen asleep in his chair, and now he was being escorted to another room. Gently, the two men laid him down on a comfortable overstuffed couch and covered him with a soft, heavy blanket.

Sam popped up his head. “Where will you be when I wake up?”

“We will stay here with you while you sleep,” they assured him.

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled, and off he fell into a deep slumber.

Asher curled up on a couch across the room, and Mathias pulled up a high-backed leather chair and an ottoman to prop up his feet. He sat with a book open on his lap, keeping watch over his guest. He knew the days ahead would be difficult. He also knew the whisperers would report the disturbance in the countryside. Mostly, he wondered if they had identified Sam.

While Sam and Asher slept, Nanny stood on her front porch, ever-vigilant. The customary gentle and loving look of a grandmother was not present in her eyes. Two Labrador retrievers, one yellow named Gracie and the other chocolate in color named Faith, remained constantly at her side. They stood watching and waiting, sniffing the air. There was trouble afoot.

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