AfroMyth by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Afrocentric Books

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Thomas dropped Margaret at Athena’s. Athena told stories or had neighbors come and recount their families’ tales. When they finished, a child was dispatched to fetch Thomas, and the women ate lunch together.

But when Thomas came to collect her on Friday, she could tell something was different.

As Margaret got out of the carriage, Thomas turned and said, “Master says he’ll meet you in the library.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll put my bag away and freshen up,” Margaret replied.

Thomas’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “No, best go in now. He’s expecting to see you when you get back.”

Margaret was surprised but began to have an inkling of what had caused the change in atmosphere.

She went to the library and knocked.

“Enter.”

She opened the door.

“Come in, come in. Don’t huddle at the door,” said Malcolm Spaight.

Margaret had seen the picture of him, young and in Confederate uniform, which hung on the landing. In the painting, his hair was chestnut brown; he wore a wide mustache and sat on a piebald roan. The man facing her still had the mustache, but his face was lined, with a deep leathery hue. His hair was a yellowed white, and he wore a cream linen suit. He looked to be taller than Margaret by a couple of inches.

Deep blue-gray smoke curled from a thick cigar held between his fingers. He looked at Margaret and took a puff.

“It’s good to meet you at last, Mr. Spaight,” said Margaret. “It is very kind of you to be so hospitable.”

“Always a pleasure to assist old friends in the Department of American Culture,” he replied. “I asked in town what history you’re recording and got some nonsense about slave stories. Couldn’t make sense of the jabbering. Then I’m told you spend your days with that pale negro woman with Greek names. I must say I find it a strange thing.” He took a deep draw on his cigar, sending a spiral of smoke into the room.

“Athena Demeter has been most helpful. Your friends in town were quite right. I am recording the oral histories of ex-slaves,” Margaret said.

Her host stared, unblinking. The silence went on, and Margaret began to wonder if everything was okay. Eventually he responded. First with a harrumph and a shrug of his shoulders.

“A strange waste of time, if you ask me. Better recording the people who achieved something, made this land the fine country it is. But I’m sure you’ve some highfalutin reason why this is the way to do it.” He shook his head.

Margaret stayed silent; he hadn’t actually asked a question, and she was tired and uninterested in arguing.

“Well, I suppose you’ll want to get washed before dinner. It’s good to meet you,” he said.

He turned and walked over to a bookcase. Margaret watched, not realizing at first that she had been summarily dismissed. She resolved to have as little to do with Malcolm Spaight as possible. As she reached the door, he spoke again.

“Just one thing. This Athena woman, pale for a negress, but that’s what she is.

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