Calendula

Prologue

AND AWAY THEY FLEW.

The Creature descended from the shadows of white clouds, arriving to the land sometime in 1639. Her eyes, the color of honey warmed by the sun, sat bright and alert in a pan of skin purplish-black like African rubies. When she landed, the earth pulsed with the reverberation of her footsteps. She had come to collect her children, those captured from the narrow men found lurking along the shore. Her children had not yet discovered their wings, so they knew not how to flee. When she placed her feet on the cold hard soil, the Creature heard the unfamiliar chord of captivity, and for the first time in her existence she experienced the shuddering hark of the death cry. When she arrived, the children felt her near. They began whispering in utterances unknown to the man called ‘Master.’

The Creature took refuge in the woods, sheltering beneath ancient trees. The animals sent signals to their kin and they made alms for the Creature. Nuts and fruits were placed at her feet. Three shells filled with fresh water floated upstream. She ate and drank these gifts, taking only what she needed for sustenance. She traveled by night, following the cries and the screams of her children—voices which could never be silenced even in death. She waited to seize the land devils. One of them walked deeper into the woods to do his business. Sticks crackled under booted feet heavied by the weight and imbalance of unjust dominance. The Creature snatched the man to snap his neck and tossed his weightless body to an opening. She called for them to run into the clearing, and the children ran deep into the woods where she taught them how to fly. Many escaped to return home, never to be seen again in the New World, but not everyone could soar. Some of them stayed behind in fear they would never see the others again. Others remained to protect the weak.

One by one, masters were snatched up and thrown into the clearing. The Creature rescued her children from the fields. She pulled them from the houses and the masters’ beds. They came from far and near to leave the strange place thrust upon them as their new home. The women carried their men; for the men had no wings. Some of the women had never flown before, but so eager to leave, they knew no fear and lifted onto the skies. They looked down at the land below, crossing over waters rich with their kind who could not swim. And swallowed whole in these same waters were the souls of the Discarded. Queen Yemaya, the Great Mother of the sea, called them to their resting place. While they took to the sky, the Creature realized many remained on ground. The Creature turned back to claim the others, but when she returned to the land, discovered they were waiting for their children.

We must stay and wait for them to come back.

The children of captivity had been traded to masters in distant lands. The mothers would not leave their children, so they stayed with the hopes of seeing them once more. The Creature knew to protect them. Reaching to roots concealed by the earth’s floor, she pulled up golden flowers. Tossing them to the children, the Creature cried,

Use these gifts to protect yourself. Continue to love selflessly as you have loved today. Give, and you will be blessed; your generations will be prosperous.

Now, some of the women were gifted with sight beyond their years. Others inherited the power to control the skies. The healers were enriched with discernment and intuition with a profound understanding of plants and animals. At least one of them commanded the gift of time. At least one of them grabbed hold of the wonders of divination and resurrection power. So, the women who had been with her in the fields received their bounty. And just like that, she was gone. The people never felt the rumble of their mother’s footsteps again, but she heard their cries. And the rest is history. Until now.

The Coven: Carpe Momentum

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned;

the flames will not set you ablaze."

Isaiah 43:2

They rose carefully to greet her. The woman, tawny brown and heat-pressed by work done under a summer sun, was sturdily built and small-framed. This widow and controller of land made ruler by her husband’s death, was dead by winter. And what remained of the land—leftovers from the white man’s plunder, she held on to with clenched fists opening only for something worthy in return. The black ones, daughters of the peculiar woman her people called ‘witches,’ had come to barter with the hopes of securing a deed. Sisters Rebecca and Rosamond were newly manumitted slaves, set free by Master Robert Allen. They had little to offer but respect and kindness, and for Squaw Sachem of Mistik, that was enough. The sisters prepared a feast for the entire tribe using spices that had endured travel across the seas. When their transaction was complete, they set off to build a city.

Tess will meet us at day’s end once Master DeVries takes rest, Rebecca reminded her. What of Anne?

And she at dawn, the sister answered. We have plenty to do, sister. But we will do it as free as the wind. Rosamond lifted her hand to the sky, commanding a breeze under the hot sun.

Tess had been sold to a decent white man who, on his deathbed, vowed to free the womanchild fathered by her first master. Tess nursed Henry DeVries like a new mother to child. She was a natural healer able to discern poisonous plants, so the old man was grateful she’d kept him alive months beyond what the doctor had promised. Tess was nineteen and well into her breeding years. But freedom now made her a mother when she so chose.

Anne will be well-pleased to have this land asunder for our families. She is rightly gifted, Rosamond added. As agreed, the women established the town, quartering off equal parts for themselves with other plots designated for their kindred and the generations to come.

The Naumkeag (Naum Keike), Salem’s original inhabitants, were part of the Pawtucket Nation. Men and women representing this tribe were fiercely independent until they were wiped out by the Tarrantine War, the plague and the smallpox. Prior to 1629, though, Salem was called Naumkeag, deriving from the word fish. It is said the area developed 4,000 years ago, and its people established road systems, agriculture, architecture, commerce, maritime trade and industry until they were made extinct. New Moon known as simply ‘Nanepashemet’ served as Great Sachem of the Neaumkeag people until his death in 1619. His wife, known only as Squaw Sachem of Mistick, continued rule when he died. Possessor of many lands, she deeded large portions to the colonialists. Plenty of the land had been abandoned in death during the wars, so plenty was left for the taking.

Tituba Valley, named for the slave-witch rumored to be born in Arawak Village, South America in 1674, stood Aunt Sally in Salem history. Tituba was remembered for telling the people of Salem about other witches, the white ones, leading to the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. Just eighteen years old during the trials, she was rewritten as a haggardly old woman possessing neither beauty nor charms in her story’s retelling. Couldn’t have been further from the truth. Reverend Samuel Parris of Danvers, Massachusetts owned her body, but he could never own her soul. The women to carry on in Tituba’s name—one born free, one enslaved, and two former slaves—were the first to build a city of black people. The Allens, the Higginbothams and the DeVrieses strived from the very beginning to keep Tituba Valley a black town. In an arrangement made just days after Tituba fled Salem, black and white witches agreed they would not use magic against each other. But the agreement was ignored when the colonizers attempted to push blacks out of their homes. For years, the people of Tituba Valley saw little interaction with their white neighbors. Things were peaceful while Salem recovered from the wreckage brought on by The Trials. For a while, folks left the women and their people alone. Not after long, though, they began leaving Cambridge, Newton, Arlington, Concord, Somerville, Charlestown and Watertown in search of something more. One of these men arrived in Tituba Valley to meet about lots already in possession. The conversation ended with two men dead and another left barely breathing, however, and so began the truly bad blood between white witches and black witches.

Rivalries and feuds intensified as pioneers of Tituba Valley fought to maintain a separate society without the oppressive glare of the colonizer’s gaze. When the white people reached for Tituba Valley, some of the witches failed to uphold their end of the deal, and witches on both sides used their gifts to fight what all knew to be man’s war. Blacks retaliated and burned down crops. The fires spread and charred the land for seventy-seven hours, forcing many of the town’s inhabitants farther out of town closer to Boston. The feud between the white witches and the black witches persisted, extinguishing only after the birth of a child, but things were strained.

Old grudges lay dormant just below the surface as black and white witches worked to establish some ground rules about how to coexist. Severed from their white counterparts, the blacks flourished, appreciating a life void of subjugation. The residents developed their own language and orchestrated a highly successful method of commerce that respected the land as much as the trader. They thrived. Things simmered between the witches after the fighting ended, and the sharp mutual hate dissipated into a dull dislike. There was a nice nastiness amongst the witches. Neither side trusted the other enough to come together, but like regular women on holidays, a witch from one coven would call a witch from another to get a good recipe.

Tituba Valley folk lived off the land they cultivated with carefully acquired and well-maintained resources. Their history has been taught to their progeny, handed down generation upon generation so that they may live even more abundantly for the generations to come. The men who planted themselves firmly in Tituba’s soil contributed to the land as bankers, builders, caretakers, theologians, lawyers, and tradesmen, fully aware the women were destined to be independent leaders unable to be controlled, certainly not by men. People born into this matriarchal society inherited a legacy of wealth, confidence, intelligence, independence and solidarity. As for the women who chose men, the men were expected to embrace the Tituba Way. Not all men found these terms acceptable, and for every man who stayed, two more departed. The men and women born to this self-made tribe were the architects of some of society’s biggest wins, influencing leaders in politics and business. And when they weren’t making leaders, they were themselves the sovereign.

Soon after the land was obtained from Sachem Squaw of Mistik, the women organized using seven seats of authority to govern: counselor, healer, architect, teacher, trader, banker, and protector. This coven of magistrates would forever be known as Calendula. Leaders maintained a small group of townspeople to uphold each area of responsibility in the town founded for women, by women. The first order of business was to secure the freedom of those who still remained in captivity. They needed money to buy freedom and someone they could trust on the outside of their small community. Tess, the healer of the community, had grown fond of Master De Vries’ cousin, and she was certain she could trust him. Rosamond Allen, the new town’s counselor, was responsible for governing the community and providing counsel for the other leaders. She advanced the town’s interests, stabilizing relationships with the local blacks, the Indians, the white witches, and the white leadership. Her sister, Rebecca, served as architect to develop the fledgling town of approximately 120 people. Elixir Williams taught the children of Tituba Valley, allowing them to gain a first-hand understanding of science, mathematics, oral history, and literature. The trader among them, Persephone Levesque, was extraordinary in business and commerce, while Anne Higginbotham carried the town in financial matters.

Matilda Esteban led a small force of about fifteen to thirty people to help keep them safe. The general store was at the center of town connected to the meetinghouse and surrounded by a lumber mill and the town’s principal source of income: a shipbuilding company. About twenty or so worked in fishing and horse breeding. Eleven blacksmiths, four tailors, and two candlestick makers made up the company called The Light, Iron & Pin Co., while a friendly family of cobblers known to all as simply, Shoemen also contributed greatly to the prosperity of the town. The rest of the residents were either farmers or children too small to work. The womenfolk outweighed the population. At least a couple dozen residents moved to Tituba Valley already mated, and for those who came unattached, there was a matchmaker up to the task of partnering called Zayah Riley. Old Riley was a striking woman of seventy-two years of age who had become a widow when her man of forty-five years slumped over after breakfast. She was done with mating, but had the keen sensibility to help others find suitable matches. T’was her who linked up Rebecca Allen with Josiah Berry. T’was her who put Anne with that Noah fellow from Master Jacob’s house. Rosamond Allen was an altogether different breed of woman. A leader among leaders, she was hard to match. Men were either too scared to marry her on account of her unseemly prowess and that talk about the magic, or they were too simple, lacking a meeting of the minds. Rosamond would have to wait.

The old women of the community were treated like queens and left to do whatever it was they wished. Most took to fishing and storytelling. The women blessed with the power of reading made good use of the library—a structure resembling a stable–until it was refashioned sometime in the 1700s. Everyone got along well enough to make it work. They were free to do as they chose, so long as they invested in the community and abided by the rules. From time to time, a faction of men would make a foolhardy attempt to overthrow female governance. They would be shut down like clockwork and ousted if not set straight in that very instance. But all in all, they were a community of peacekeepers who benefited from the fruits of their own labor.

The choice was theirs. They could go or they could stay, but once the men made their decision, they would be held accountable for maintaining the Tituba Valley way until they drew their last breath. The decision was simple enough for the sons of the female-run city, but the choice required more contemplation for transplants unaccustomed to their ways. Take Prudence Allen’s husband, for instance. Old Riley had prayed for the town’s leader two years before the match was made. Charles Frontier of Pennsylvania was born a free man, and was trained in glassmaking. He spoke several languages, but seldom talked at all. So, when he opened his mouth to speak, he captivated everyone’s attention; for he finally had found something important worth uttering.

The women met with Charles to explain the customs of Tituba Valley. Initially, he questioned their way of life, positing the role of man was best fulfilled when man was in charge. Of course, the women disagreed. The older citizens of the community asked him to take isolation for a week and observe them. They promised to meet with him after seven days to see if he had changed his mind. And after he lived among them, experiencing the tranquility, fun, love and determination secured under an all-female rulership, he was convinced more towns would be happier and more efficient if similarly structured and managed. The two hit if off immediately and were wed four weeks later. Soon after, the couple had three children—two girls and one boy. The boy, Israel, was highly influential in business and acted as the coven’s first steward until his death some seventy years later. The girls prospered, assuming seats at the helm for some fifty years.

The husbands of Calendula were a tight lot and tended to work well together to support the women and their coven. One of them, however, strayed not long after his marriage was consummated, and began to plot an upheaval. When Lucius Smith, husband of the Williams witch, organized a small group of men to challenge the women’s authority, word got back to the leaders. Most of them laughed at the idea, but the Williams witch was angry and embarrassed, and she wished to punish her ungrateful husband. She always thought the man was a bit entitled and lazy. He was a decent enough father, but their match had been a rocky one. She needed to set him right and desired to admonish the man publicly, but that was not the Tituba Valley way. Prudence turned the town over to the man for a week to allow him the chance to run things. The man brought in his cadre of Judases to lead, and they failed miserably.

The men were unable to manage the relationships established by the women. The town resented their uprising, so no one cooperated with them. They lacked the skills and the resources to organize the most talented individuals to do a host of jobs. There was little attention paid to the importance of gatherings and social functions, so preoccupied they were to raise a buck. The renegades were ousted within three days and put back in their respective places. Now, it was Lucius Smith who was embarrassed. He abandoned all notions of overthrowing the women-led town, and admitted once and for all they were all truly better off with the way things were.

Another one tried the same thing a few years later. Lucius tried to stop the man, but he persisted. Again, the people turned their backs on the treacherous leach and closed their shutters and doors. His army was twice as large as Lucius’s, but made only half the progress. The angry band left town, though eight of ten returned. A voice cried from the meetinghouse,

Oh, God. When will they learn?

The first American slave ship, the Desire , was built in Marblehead, Massachusetts in 1636. Weighing 120 tons, the ship set sail on March 2, 1637 to take Pequot Indian slaves to the West Indies. Desire transferred African slaves to Connecticut before capturing people from Africa. These souls were carried to the West Indies, Virginia and Georgia. This collective voyage is referred to as the Middle Passage . The men, women and children had lives before their enslavement, though. Their tales do not begin in captivity, although a multitude of stories have been lost. What remains of their voices have been mashed into a battered amalgamation of hardship, pain, and survival. Some of those stories derived from the people of Tituba Valley, Massachusetts.

The truth of the matter was it was a sister’s love that dismantled slavery in the state of Massachusetts. Elizabeth Freeman was a hard worker, a trusted slave, but above all, she was a dedicated sister and an astute listener. Colonel John Ashley, her enslaver, held frequent dinners and meetings with gentlemen as customary of the established class in the late 1700s. Men commonly, and quite openly, talked about the rule of the day, and in the case that mattered most to Elizabeth, the Bill of Rights and the state’s constitution. So, when Elizabeth stepped in front of a heated kitchen shovel to protect her own sister from being struck by Mrs. Ashley, the enslaved woman set the course of a new trajectory for those in bondage, most certainly the slaves of Massachusetts. In 1780, Freeman sued the Ashley family for her freedom and won. Shortly thereafter, a slave named Quock Walker sued his slave owner using the same argument. These cases shook the system, and slavery was subsequently abolished in the state. Like the Freeman sisters, the Allen twins were bonded by a love for which they would give their lives.

By 1764, Salem had exactly 117 known Negroes. That number nearly tripled some thirty-five years later. So, when John Remond sailed on the Six Brothers brig from Curacao on July 25, 1798, he arrived on the shores of Massachusetts sometime in August. He arrived as a free, ten-year old child. Some were slaves. Some were free. Oftentimes, free brown folks were identified as ‘people of color,’ making them legally distinct from those enslaved—the Negroes. The free colored folk fought to learn a skill to earn a proper wage, and that’s just what John Remond did. He traveled to Boston to gain skill as a hairdresser, and eventually learned the art of catering. By 1807, Remond had met and married Nancy Lenox—a woman also born to free Negro parents. The couple was highly sought after for their expertise in the culinary arts as caterers and restaurateurs. They flourished and gained notable success and wealth by anyone’s standards. Prudence Allen, a prominent colored woman and owner of the School of Cuisine for Colored Persons, provided free instruction to Remond. Prudence