Later that night Jacob walked alone through the streets of Adams. The candles were all extinguished and the people had all gone to bed. But Jacob found that sleep escaped him on that night. Though he felt spent and exhausted, weary in heart and in mind, in body and in soul, rest yet remained unknown to him. Jacob contemplated the mystery that he should yet exist here at all. He should have been dead many times over by now; dead from hunger, dead from exposure to the elements, or dead from the bullets of his enemies. Indeed, with all the risks he had taken, Jacob found no logical reason that he should still draw breath. Yet against all odds, there he stood, alive and unharmed. He had rallied others to his cause and became the father of a new city. Jacob was sure that there must be some reason that he endured as he had endured.
But what was it? What did it all mean? Nothing had really changed. The tyrant to the south still held fast. Jacob’s survival only galled him to ever more uncivilized acts of violence. The austere existence of Jacob’s people only inspired him to burn what little they did have. He still robbed his fellow man of free will with whips, chains, and guns, and for it he was rewarded with even greater wealth and power. Jacob felt resigned to his fate. To be hated for loving justice. To build up the things of life, only to witness them being consumed by the fires of death.
Jacob walked along and stared up at the stars, vainly demanding of them an answer. What should he do? To meet iron with flesh only left him with broken bones. To meet a sword with words only left him cut down. To meet hardship with hardship. To meet cruelty with even greater cruelty. Surely this would overcome the enemy. Wouldn’t it? Jacob felt lost and confused. He decided to go into the church and pray.
As Jacob walked through the doors he heard in the sanctuary the sounds of sobbing. He saw Cassius seated in the front pew with his face buried in his hands. Jacob walked over, sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, seeking to comfort the mournful man by his mere presence. Cassius seemed to be soothed somewhat, and found his tears to be spent. He gave voice to his trial.
“It be over a year now. I ain’t seen her. I don’t know if she be alive or dead or sold down the river or nothin’. If she be still livin’ then she done had my baby by now. I cain’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ‘em. Cain’t help but feel like I abandoned ‘em. Cain’t help but wonder if she be better off with me by her side, if maybe then I could help her raise that baby up right. Oh Brother Jacob, I miss ‘em so much!”
As Cassius voice broke, Jacob wondered as well. He wondered if he had failed his congregation. Failed them through his inaction. Failed by counseling them to turn the other cheek as each cheek grew bloodier and bloodier still. What they needed was justice. What they needed was to fight for it. He thought of the fire within the heart he had spoken of so many times. A fire could bring light and illuminate the dark path. A fire could also burn. It could burn away injustice and inequity and sweep the land clean for a new beginning. Jacob would light that fire.
“Tell me Brother Cassius, have you been born again?” Cassius’ eyes narrowed in confusion.“Well, preacher down at the Sartoris plantation, he baptize me in the river, but I don’t know ‘bout being born again. I don’t really feel no different than I did befo’.” Jacob shook his head.
“He baptized you with water, but I have come to baptize with fire. Do you wish to be made anew?” Cassius looked over at his spiritual leader with a gleam in his eye.
“Yes.” Jacob rose and turned towards him.“Then kneel.” Cassius knelt, and Jacob laid a hand on his brow.
“Brother Cassius, do you wish to receive the fire of the Holy Spirit?” “Yes.”
“Do you wish to reclaim that which is rightfully yours and has been taken from you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish to defy the tyrant Pharaoh and lead your tribe to the Promised Land?”
“Yes!”
“Then rise, Spartacus, and go forth to free your people.”
Spartacus stood and met Jacob’s gaze. His eyes held not fire but ice. His jaw had not the droop of a slave but the stone set of a warrior. Jacob met ice with ice, stone with stone, and Spartacus needed no further instructions. He had been born again. Hew walked towards the door, but before he walked out he turned to address Jacob one last time.
“You know, I finally understand what you say tonight. John Brown ain’t dead. He ain’t dead at all. John Brown ain’t dead ‘cause he’s alive in me.”