This narrative recounts a dark tale of revenge and retribution in 1840s South Carolina, where an enslaved man, Ezekiel Cross, and Silas Rutled's daughter, Catherine, conspire to dismantle a secret society of powerful men who engaged in horrific rituals, ultimately leading to the destruction of the plantation and the demise of its corrupt elite.
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In April of 1841, Silas Rutled made an
announcement that shocked even the
crulest plantation owners in South Carolina.
Carolina.
He was placing his daughter, Catherine,
a 28-year-old woman weighing over 260 lb
under the complete authority of an
enslaved man named Ezekiel Cross. Not as
a nurse, not as a companion, as her
owner in every way that mattered except
on paper. The White Society of Colatin
County was scandalized, but they had no
idea what Rutled was truly doing or what
Ezekiel Cross would do to Catherine over
the following months. By November,
Catherine's body had changed in ways no
one could explain. 13 men were dead, and
Cypress Grove Plantation was nothing but
ash. What really happened between that
enslaved man and the plantation owner's
daughter? What did he do to her that
terrified everyone who witnessed it?
Before we uncover the disturbing truth,
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your state below. Now, let me take you
back to where it all began. Spring in
Colatin County arrived with oppressive
heat and humidity that made the air feel
solid. The Combe River moved slowly
through the low country, its dark water
reflecting Spanish moss that hung from
live oak trees like funeral shrouds.
Rice patties stretched for miles. Their
flooded fields worked by hundreds of
enslaved people who moved through water
up to their knees from dawn until dusk.
This was wealth built on suffering.
Prosperity extracted from human misery.
All of it justified by men who convinced
themselves that cruelty was simply the
natural order of things. Cypress Grove
Plantation sat on 800 acres of
moderately productive land. Its owner,
Silas Rutled, was not quite part of the
county's elite, but desperately wanted
to be. He owned 58 enslaved people,
which made him wealthy by most
standards, but barely qualified him as
mid-tier in local society.
The truly powerful families owned
thousands of acres and hundreds of
slaves. They summered in Charleston and
sent their children to universities in
the north. Their names carried weight
that could open doors or destroy
reputations with a single word. Silas
had married Elizabeth Yansy in 1812, a
union that brought moderate land
holdings and a respected surname.
Elizabeth had been a practical woman who
kept meticulous records and seemed more
interested in profit margins than social
climbing. She died giving birth in 1813
to a daughter christened Catherine. For
28 years, Silas raised Catherine alone
while focusing his energies on gaining
entry to the inner circles of county
power. He was a tall man, thin in the
way of people who forget to eat when
consumed by obsession. His hair had gone
gray prematurely, giving him a severe
appearance that matched his cold
temperament. In business, he was known
for being shrewd, but honorable enough,
the kind of man who would drive hard
bargains, but keep his word. His
daughter Catherine had grown up
isolated, educated by tutors, never
quite belonging anywhere.
By 1841, she was 28 years old and
weighed nearly 260 lb. Her body was
swollen from years of medications
prescribed by doctors who diagnosed her
with hysteria and female nervous
disorders. She suffered violent fits
where she would scream and throw objects.
objects.
She had attacked her father with a
letter opener the previous year, leaving
a scar across his left hand. The White
Society of Colatin County whispered
about her with false sympathy. Poor
Silas Rutled, burdened with a mad
daughter. What a shame. She had been
such a pretty child. None of them knew
the truth. None of them knew what
Catherine had witnessed when she was 12
years old, or that her madness was not
madness at all, but a rational response
to living with monsters. The letter
arrived on April 7th, delivered by
Private Courier. Silas opened it in his
study, expecting business
correspondence. Instead, he found three
pages on expensive paper sealed with red
wax bearing a symbol he recognized
immediately. A sythe crossed with wheat
stalks, the mark of the brethren of the
harvest. The brethren, 13 men who
gathered in darkness to perform rituals
they believed strengthened the land
through blood sacrifice. They mixed old
European traditions with beliefs
borrowed from enslaved people who
understood spirits and power. They
believed the strong were meant to
consume the weak, literally when
necessary. Silas had been initiated in 1822.
1822.
He had attended perhaps 40 gatherings
over 19 years, participating in rituals
that ranged from disturbing to
monstrous. The letter informed him he
was in debt. $12,000 borrowed over years
of gambling losses and failed
investments, an impossible sum.
Repayment would require selling most of
his land and all his slaves, destroying
everything he had built. But the letter
offered an alternative, a demonstration
of commitment from members in difficult
positions. Silas would take his daughter
Catherine and place her under the
complete authority of one of his
enslaved men, not temporarily, not as
punishment, as a genuine transfer of
responsibility lasting one full year.
The enslaved man would have total
control over her person, her daily
activities, her treatment. Silas would
announce this publicly at a gathering of
the county's prominent families,
explaining it as an extreme medical
measure for his daughter's condition.
The humiliation would be absolute. In a
society where white women were
supposedly precious and protected above
all others, Silas would be declaring his
daughter worth less than his property.
But if he agreed, his debt would be
forgiven, and the brethren would provide
financial support to restore his
position. Silas sat in his study for
hours that night. He thought about his
options. Bankruptcy would destroy him
completely. The brethren had connections
to every judge, every lawyer, every
politician in the region. They could
make him disappear if he became a
problem. Or he could sacrifice his
daughter's dignity to maintain his own
position. the choice society had trained
him to make. Property over people, power
over morality. He wrote his acceptance
by candle light and sent it before dawn.
3 days later, another letter arrived
with a name and brief history. Ezekiel
Cross, age 33. Purchased recently
through an intermediary from a Virginia
plantation. Skills included carpentry
and herbal medicine. temperament listed
as quiet and obedient. What the letter
did not say was that Ezekiel Cross had
been selected specifically for this
purpose, that his placement at Cypress
Grove was no accident, that he carried
his own burning need for justice and the
patience to wait for exactly the right
moment. Ezekiel arrived on April 13th in
a wagon driven by a slave trader named
Henderson. The wagon pulled directly to
the main house, unusual since most slave
transactions happened near the barns.
Silas came out onto the porch, shading
his eyes against the morning sun. In the
wagon bed sat Ezekiel. The first thing
Silas noticed was his eyes. Most
enslaved people kept their gaze down as
a survival mechanism, but Ezekiel looked
directly at Silas, his expression calm
and assessing. It made Silas deeply
uncomfortable. Ezekiel was tall, perhaps
6'2, with broad shoulders and lean
muscle from a lifetime of hard labor.
His skin was unmarked by whipping scars.
His clothes were simple but clean. His
hands were large and calloused, but his
fingers had a precision that suggested
skilled work rather than just brute
force. Henderson climbed down and handed
papers to Silas. Ezekiel cross as
requested. Previous owner said he was
quiet but capable. Your associates want
you to know this one was carefully
selected. Silas barely glanced at the
papers. He addressed Ezekiel directly.
You understand why you are here? Yes,
sir. Ezekiel's voice was deep and
measured with a slight Virginia accent.
My daughter is unwell. You will be
responsible for her care. Doctors have
failed. You claim knowledge of herbal
treatments. My grandmother was a healer,
sir. She taught me before I was sold.
The transaction completed quickly.
Ezekiel was shown to a small cabin near
the main house, separate from other
slave quarters. He was given basic
supplies and told his duties would begin
the next day. He was informed that his
sole responsibility was Catherine's care
and that failure would have severe consequences.
consequences.
Ezekiel nodded and said, "Yes, sir."
when required. Then he was left alone.
For the first time since arriving, he
allowed his expression to change, his
jaw unclenched slightly, his shoulders
relaxed. He sat on the bed and pulled
from inside his shirt a small cloth
bundle. He unwrapped it carefully,
revealing a piece of worn paper with
three names written in a child's
uncertain handwriting. Sarah, Benjamin,
Ruth, his wife, his son, his daughter,
sold away from him three years ago to a
plantation in Alabama known for working
slaves to death. He had learned they all
died within 18 months, Sarah from
untreated fever, Benjamin from an injury
that turned septic. Ruth from simply
giving up, a six-year-old child who
stopped eating because she could not
understand why her family had been torn
apart. and Silas Rutled had been the one
to sell them. Not because he needed
money, not because they had done
anything wrong, but because he had been
demonstrating to the brethren that he
could make hard decisions without
sentimentality. He had split a family
like kindling for burning. Ezekiel had
spent 2 years working his way south,
deliberately getting sold from
plantation to plantation, always
gathering information. He learned about
the brethren through whispers. He
learned about their rituals and members.
He learned they considered themselves
above any consequence. When the
opportunity came to be sold to Rutled
specifically, Ezekiel knew this was his
chance. He would have access to
Rutledig's house, to his secrets, to his
vulnerabilities. And sometimes justice
came not from courts or laws, but from
patience and planning, and being willing
to become exactly as monstrous as
necessary. He folded the paper with the
three names and tucked it away. Then he
lay back and stared at the ceiling and
began planning what came next. His first
day began on April 14th. A house slave
named Judith, middle-aged with graying
hair, brought him to Catherine's room on
the second floor. She knocked reluctantly.
reluctantly.
Miss Catherine, your father has brought
someone to help with your treatments. A
crash from inside, something heavy
hitting the wall. Then Catherine's
voice, slurred but venomous. I do not
want more treatments. Send him away.
Judith looked at Ezekiel with sympathy.
She has bad days. This is one. Ezekiel
opened the door and stepped inside,
closing it before Judith could follow.
The room was large but dark. Heavy
curtains drawn. The air was stale,
smelling of unwashed bedding and
something else. The sweet rot smell of
mercury. Books scattered across the
floor. a shattered picture against the
wall, clothes everywhere. Catherine sat
in a chair by the cold fireplace,
wrapped in a stained dressing gown. Her
dark hair hung loose and tangled. Her
face was puffy, eyes unfocused. Her
hands trembled continuously on the chair
arms. She looked at Ezekiel with
confusion, then fear, then anger. Who
are you? I said, no more doctors.
I am not a doctor, miss. My name is
Ezekiel. Your father asked me to help
you. Help. She laughed harshly. That is
what they all say. Help, treatment,
medicine. They mean poison. They mean
chains. They mean silence. She stood
suddenly swaying. I know what this is.
He is punishing me again for
remembering, for speaking, for refusing
to forget. Ezekiel stood still, non-threatening.
non-threatening.
What are you supposed to forget? The
question caught her off guard. Her anger
flickered to something more vulnerable.
You do not know. I know nothing, miss.
Only that your father says you are
unwell. Catherine studied him intently
as if really seeing him for the first
time. You are not from here. Virginia
originally, miss. Do you know what
happens in this house? What they do in
the cellar? Ezekiel's pulse quickened,
but he kept his expression neutral. I do
not know what you mean. Liar. No heat in
it. Just exhaustion. Everyone lies. It
is easier than truth. She sat heavily.
Leave me alone. Tell my father his
newest torment failed. But Ezekiel moved
to the window and drew open the
curtains. Sunlight flooded in. Catherine
cried out, covering her eyes. When did
you last go outside, miss? I cannot walk
that far. I'm too weak. When did you
last eat without Luden a minute? The
medicine is necessary. Doctors say so.
What if the doctors are wrong? Her hands
came down from her eyes. She stared at
him with hope and terror mixed. What did
you say? Ezekiel turned from the window.
This was the moment, the first card
played. I said, "What if the doctors are
wrong? What if everything you have been
told about your condition is designed
not to help you, but to keep you controllable?
controllable?
What if your father has been poisoning
you for years to ensure you never become
well enough to speak about what you saw?
Absolute silence. Catherine's eyes went
wide, her trembling hands stilled. For
30 seconds, she just sat there, her mind
working. When she spoke, her voice was
different, clearer. He told you. Your
father told me nothing, miss. But I have
eyes. I know mercury poisoning. I know
long-term lord use. Healthy women do not
become like this without someone working
hard to make them that way. Why would
you say this? Suspicion crept back. This
is a trick. You are testing me. I am
telling you, I can help you become truly
well, clear-minded, strong enough to
walk out of this room. But it will not
be easy. Your body has been dependent on
those medicines for years. Stopping will
be painful. You will feel worse before
better, and your father will not
approve. Then why would you do it?
Ezekiel met her eyes. Because I have my
own reasons for wanting Silus Rutled to
suffer. And the best way to make him
suffer is to give him back a daughter
who is sane enough to remember
everything and strong enough to speak
about it. The truth dangerous to speak
so plainly. But Catherine was damaged,
not stupid. She would see through
manipulation, but genuine common cause
that she might believe. You want revenge
on my father? Yes, miss. What did he do
to you? He sold my family, my wife, and
two children. Sent them to their deaths
for no reason except to prove something
to people who judge worth by cruelty.
Catherine absorbed this, then nodded
slowly. The brethren, he sold them for
the brethren. Not a question. The
brethren, miss, you do not know. She
laughed. Something manic in it. You will
learn. Everyone learns eventually. She
leaned forward. If I agree, if I let you
help me. What happens then? You get
well, miss. And when you are well, we
decide what to do next. We I have my
revenge to plan. You have yours. Perhaps
they align. Catherine studied him
intently. Finally, she spoke. I want
them all dead. My father, Judge Pelum,
Reverend Krenshaw, all of them. Every
man who stood in that cellar. I want
them to suffer first, to know it is
coming to beg, then I want them dead.
The venom was shocking, not for its
intensity, but because it came from
someone dismissed as mad and harmless.
This was not madness. This was rage
concentrated by years of suppression.
Ezekiel nodded. Then we have an
understanding, Miss Catherine. If we are
conspirators, use my name. I cannot,
Miss. Not where anyone might hear. We
must be careful. Then know something,
Ezekiel. Catherine's eyes glittered
dangerously. I have killed before. Three
people, house slaves who might have told
my father about my lucid moments. I
cannot remember exactly how. The ldinum
blurs everything, but I know I did it.
They disappeared. Their families were
told they ran away. She smiled terribly.
So if you plan to betray me, to use me,
then dispose of me, know that I am not a
victim. I am something worse. Ice ran
down Ezekiel's spine. He had expected an
ally, not someone whose capacity for
violence might exceed his own, but he
kept steady. I believe you, miss, and I
will not betray you. Good. Catherine
stood more steadily. Then let us begin.
But I have one condition. When this is
over, when we have had our revenge, I
want to die. I do not want to live with
what I have seen and done. You will help
me with that too. Agreed. Ezekiel had
not expected that, but he was committed
now. Agreed. Then we have a deal.
Catherine extended her hand. After
hesitation, Ezekiel shook it. Her grip
was stronger than expected. Over the
following week, Ezekiel began
Catherine's treatment. He gradually
reduced her lordinum, replacing some
with herbal tinctures, Valyrian root for
anxiety and sleep. Chamomile for
digestive distress, milk thistle to help
her liver process accumulated toxins.
The process was brutal.
Catherine spent 3 days in bed with
fever, shaking, and vomiting. Ezekiel
stayed with her through it, holding a
basin while she was sick, wiping her
face with cool cloths, speaking quietly
just to remind her she was not alone.
When the worst passed, she was weak but
clearer than she had been in years. The
constant tremor decreased. Her speech
was less slurred. She could focus on
reading. Then real work began. Ezekiel
had her walking short distances at first
from her room to the hallway end and
back. It exhausted her, but he insisted
every day a little further. He adjusted
her diet, bringing lean meats and
vegetables instead of heavy pastries. He
limited portions strictly though she
fought him years of using food as
comfort making restriction difficult.
While working on her physical recovery,
they talked. Catherine told him about
the cellar, about what she saw at 12.
She described it in detail that made
Ezekiel's stomach turn, but he listened
without interruption. She told him about
years of gaslighting that followed. Her
father convincing everyone, including
herself, that she was mad, that she
invented memories, that nothing she said
could be trusted. She told him about the
journal she kept hidden. pages
documenting dates and times when her
father left late at night, names of
visitors at strange hours, sounds from
below that should not be possible.
Ezekiel told her about his family, about
Sarah who sang while working and taught
their children to read despite the
danger. About Benjamin who at 8 could do
mathematics that amazed overseers. About
Ruth who loved flowers and picked wild
blooms to make their cabin beautiful. He
told her how Silas came to the Virginia
plantation with a buyer's warrant. How
he inspected them like livestock. How he
agreed to purchase all three for
reasonable price, then change terms at
the last moment, saying he only needed
the woman and children, not Ezekiel. How
he deliberately split the family for no
practical reason, but simply because he
could. He smiled when he did it. Ezekiel
said quietly, "That is what I remember
most. My son crying, holding my leg,
begging, my wife trying to be strong,
telling Benjamin to be brave, and your
father smiled like it pleased him to
cause that pain. Catherine listened with
newly clear eyes. I am sorry. I know
sorry is just a word, but I am sorry you
suffered because of what my father is.
You are not responsible for what he does
miss. No, but I am responsible for what
I do next. And I promise you, Ezekiel,
he will pay for what he took from you.
They will all pay. The formal
announcement was scheduled for April
29th. 41 people gathered in the Cypress
Grove dining room for what invitations
described as an important family
announcement. The county's elite arrived
in carriages. Judge Pelum with his wife
Eleanor. Reverend Krenshaw with his
daughter, Marcus Fanning and his family,
Benjamin Lyall from the bank. The meal
was elaborate. Oysters, roasted duck,
multiple rice dishes, sweet potatoes,
fresh bread, a towering cake for
dessert. Through it all, Catherine sat
at her father's right hand, eating
sparingly, speaking when spoken to, but
volunteering nothing. Ezekiel served
alongside other house slaves, moving
quietly, refilling glasses, clearing
plates. He was invisible to most guests,
but he listened to every word, watched
every interaction, filed away
information. After dessert, Silas stood
and tapped his glass. My friends, thank
you for joining us. As you know,
Catherine has been unwell for years. We
tried every treatment, doctors from
Charleston, a specialist from
Philadelphia. Nothing helped until recently.
recently.
He gestured toward Ezekiel.
Two weeks ago, I brought in Ezekiel, who
has knowledge of herbal medicine. As you
can see, Catherine is much improved.
Cleared, calm, more herself than in many
years. Polite murmurss around the table.
Catherine kept her expression neutral,
though Ezekiel saw her hands gripping
her napkin beneath the table. This
improvement, Silus continued, has led to
a difficult decision. Catherine requires
ongoing care more intensive than our
household can provide. After much
consideration, I've decided Ezekiel will
assume full responsibility for my
daughter's welfare. He will have
complete authority over her treatment,
daily activities, and living
arrangements, effective immediately. The
murmurss changed tone. Confusion now.
Several guests exchanged glances. Mrs.
Pelum's face registered shock. Marcus
Fanning spoke up. Silas, I do not
understand. You are placing your
daughter under a slave's care
permanently. I am placing her with
someone who succeeded where others
failed. My daughter's health is more
important than social convention. But
surely, Reverend Krenshaw interjected
carefully. There are other options. A
companion, a nurse, someone more
appropriate. Silus's expression
hardened. I have made my decision.
Catherine agrees. Do you not, daughter?
All eyes turned to Catherine. This was
the moment she could refuse, could
expose everything, could bring it all
crashing down. Instead, she smiled,
small, controlled, revealing nothing. I
trust my father's judgment. Ezekiel has
been kind and his treatments help. I am
content with this arrangement. Perfectly
delivered. But Ezekiel saw what others
did not. saw her knuckles white on that
napkin, saw the flash in her eyes,
promising violence. She was playing the
required role, the obedient daughter.
But inside she was screaming. The
evening passed in awkward conversation.
Some guests left early. Others stayed to
speak with Silas privately, asking
questions they did not want public.
Ezekiel caught fragments. Are you
certain this is wise? What will people say?
say?
The brethren will not approve of this
becoming public.
That last from Judge Pelum spoken low
near the study. Silas's response was too
quiet to hear, but whatever he said made
Pelum nod and clap his shoulder.
By midnight, all guests had departed.
Catherine retired to her room. Silas
went to his study. Ezekiel helped with
cleanup, then made his way upstairs. He
knocked softly on Catherine's door. Come
in. She sat by the window, still in her
dinner dress, looking out at dark
grounds. She did not turn. It is done
then. I am officially your
responsibility. Property of property.
How absurd. How are you feeling, miss? I
want to burn this house down with
everyone in it. But we must be patient.
Is that not what you tell me? Yes, miss.
I agreed because I want them to feel
secure. I want them to think this is
just my father's eccentricity. I want
them to forget about me while we work.
She turned to look at him. Did you see
their faces? The disgust, the pity. They
think I am pathetic. They have no idea
what we are planning. And what exactly
are we planning, Miss? Catherine moved
to her dresser and pulled out a wooden
box. Inside were papers covered in her
handwriting. I have been documenting
everything I remember for years. Dates,
names, ritual descriptions coded so it
looks like nonsense if found. But I can
decode it. We have enough to destroy 20
men. And will anyone believe us, miss? A
woman recently recovered from madness
and an enslaved man. No. Which is why we
need proof. They cannot dismiss. Real
physical evidence. She pulled out one
specific page. I know where they keep
their records. The brethren maintains a
ledger of all activities, every ritual,
every sacrifice, every member's
participation. It ensures everyone is
equally guilty. My father mentioned it
years ago before he realized I would
remember. Where is this ledger? In the
cellar. There is a hidden room beyond
the main chamber. I never saw inside,
but I heard them talk about it. That is
where they keep everything they cannot
afford to lose. Ezekiel felt excitement
mixed with dread. Such a ledger would be
devastating evidence, but getting it
meant going into the heart of the
brethren's domain. We would need to
access it when the house is quiet. My
father travels to Charleston monthly for
business. The next trip is May 14th. He
will be gone 3 days. That gives us 2
weeks to prepare. We need the seller
layout, every room, every hiding place.
I can help. I've been thinking about
this for 16 years. I know exactly what
needs to happen.
They spent an hour going over details,
speaking in whispers.
Catherine sketched the cellar layout
from memory. Ezekiel asked about guards,
keys, slave schedules. When he left her
room, it was nearly 2:00 in the morning.
He made his way to his small room, mind
racing. He was fully committed now to
conspiracy with a woman who was
brilliant and damaged and frightening.
He pulled out the paper with his
family's names and looked at it by
candle light. I am doing this for you,
for Sarah, for Benjamin, for Ruth, for
every person who suffered because men
like Silas Rutled believe power gives
them the right to destroy lives. He blew
out the candle and lay in darkness,
listening to the house settle. Somewhere
below in a cellar he had never seen were
secrets that could tear apart South
Carolina's most powerful families. In
two weeks he would go down there to find
them. The two weeks passed with
deceptive calm. Catherine continued
improving. Her weight dropped. Her mind
stayed sharp. She walked further each
day. More importantly, she was
translating sections of her coded
journals for Ezekiel, filling in details
about the brethren that made his blood
run cold. The brethren was not unique to
Colatin County. It was part of a larger
network across the South. Connected
societies in Charleston, Savannah, New
Orleans, Richmond, different names, but
always the same structure. Wealthy men
who believed their power derived from
ancient practices of dominance and
sacrifice. They believe they continued
traditions going back thousands of
years. Catherine explained one
afternoon. European mystery cults mixed
with things learned from enslaved
people. They twisted it into something
monstrous. Justification for things that
have no justification. And the
sacrifices not always human. Sometimes
animals, but other times they take
people who will not be missed. Slaves
with no family. poor whites who wander
onto their properties. Once I heard my
father mention a child, but I do not
know if that was literal. Where do
bodies go? Swamps on every plantation.
Bodies go in and are never found.
Alligators do the rest. And this ledger
documents all of it. Every ritual for 40
years. Names, dates, descriptions. They
keep it because they need mutual
complicity. Everyone equally guilty so
no one can expose the others without
destroying themselves. May 14th arrived.
Silas left for Charleston early morning,
taking his carriage and manservant. He
would stay with associates, attend to
business, expected back evening of May
16th. That gave them almost three full
days. They waited until nightfall before
moving. The house settled into evening
routine. By 10, the main house was
silent. They met in Catherine's room.
She had changed into simple dark
clothes, allowing freedom of movement.
hair pulled back tightly. She looked
like someone preparing for battle. Are
you certain, miss? I have never been
more certain. Let us go. The cellar
entrance was in the kitchen behind the
pantry. The door looked like wall
paneling, but pressed right, it clicked
open, revealing narrow stairs descending
into darkness. The smell hit
immediately. Damp earth and old smoke
and something organic and rotten.
Catherine noticed his reaction. You get
used to it. I wish I could say you stop
smelling it, but I would be lying. They
descended carefully. Ezekiel carrying a
shuttered lantern providing minimal
light. The stairs were steep and worn,
wood creaking. After 20 steps, they
reached bottom. The cellar was larger
than expected, easily 30 ft square with
low ceilings supported by thick beams.
Floor was packed earth, walls lined with
stones weeping moisture. At center was
what Catherine called the altar, though
now it looked like just a heavy wooden
table. But dark stains on its surface
and grooves carved in edges told their
own story. Around the room were candle
holders, clay jars sealed with wax,
wooden boxes, a rack holding black robes
with crimson trim. Along one wall,
shelves containing books and papers.
Catherine moved with certainty of
someone following a memorized map. She
led Ezekiel to the far wall where stones
seemed solid, but she pressed one
particular stone and something clicked.
A section swung inward, revealing
another chamber. This room was smaller,
10 ft square, and here the brethren kept
its secrets. The ledger sat on a wooden
stand in the center. Massive 2 ft tall
and 18 in wide, bound in dark leather
with metal clasps. Next to it were
smaller journals. Around the walls were
shelves containing jars Ezekiel refused
to examine too closely. There, Catherine
whispered, pointing, "That is what we
need." Ezekiel moved to the stand and
opened the book carefully. Pages were
thick parchment covered in meticulous
handwriting. names and dates going back
to 1800. Ritual descriptions written in
clinical detail, like scientific
experiments rather than atrocities. He
began reading, and with each entry, his
horror deepened. These men had not just
committed occasional violence. They made
it systematic. Regular gatherings every
6 weeks, rituals timed to agricultural
cycles, believing blood-fed land. They
had killed at least 37 people over the
years, probably more. Mostly enslaved
people, but also poor whites, indigenous
people, anyone vulnerable, and notes
about consumption. They had not just
killed, they had eaten. Pieces of
victims prepared specific ways consumed
during ritualistic meals they believed
transferred power. "Dear God," Ezekiel
whispered. "This is worse than I
imagined. I tried to tell you.
Catherine's voice was flat. I watched
them when I was 12. I watched them cut
pieces from that woman on the altar. I
watched my father raise a goblet and
drink. Then I spent 16 years being told
I was insane, that I imagined it all.
But I knew. I always knew.
Ezekiel turned pages looking for entries
about his family. He found them in
October 1838. Three lines. Purchased
family unit from Virginia. Woman Sarah.
Children Benjamin and Ruth. Separated
from male to demonstrate resolve. Sent
to Alabama contact. Payment received.
Three lines. That was all his family's
destruction merited. We need to take
this, Ezekiel said, voice tight with
rage. No, Catherine's hand on his arm.
If we take it now, they will know
immediately. We need to copy the most
important entries first. She was right.
But Ezekiel wanted to burn everything.
But revenge required patience, required
being smarter than the enemy. They spent
3 hours working. Catherine had brought
paper and ink. She copied entries about
specific rituals, focusing on ones,
naming current members. Ezekiel
documented victims, creating a list of
names and dates that could potentially
be cross-referenced with other records.
Exhausting work made worse by the
content. Several times Ezekiel had to
stop, hands shaking too badly. Once
Catherine left the chamber entirely,
overcome by memories, but slowly,
methodically, they built their case.
Page after page of evidence. They were
so focused, neither heard footsteps on
the cellar stairs. First indication
something was wrong was when light
flared in the outer chamber, lantern
light much brighter than their single
lamp. Ezekiel looked up sharply. blood
going cold. Silus Rutled stood in the
doorway flanked by two other men. Behind
them, at least four more figures in the
main cellar. I must admit, Silus said
calmly. I am impressed. I did not think
you would find the inner chamber.
Catherine stood slowly, placing herself
between her father and Ezekiel. You were
supposed to be in Charleston. I was
supposed to be, but I never trusted your
miraculous recovery. So I made
arrangements. I left this morning, yes,
but I returned this afternoon and
watched the house all evening, waiting
to see what you would do. He stepped
into the chamber, the two men blocking
the exit.
Did you really think I would not
anticipate this? That I would not
prepare for the possibility you might
remember might seek revenge. You have
been poisoning me for 16 years.
Catherine's voice steady despite
everything. And you expect me to simply
accept that? I expect you to understand
it was necessary. You saw something you
should not have a child. You could not
understand. I could not allow you to
destroy everything. I was 12 and I
watched you murder a woman and eat her
flesh. That was not fear, father. That
was a reasonable response to witnessing
evil. Evil? Such a simple word. Silas
moved further into the room, eyes moving
between Catherine and Ezekiel. And you,
using my daughter to get to me, filling
her head with ideas of revenge.
Ezekiel said nothing, calculating
distances and odds. Seven men against
one, with Catherine in no condition to
fight. The situation looked hopeless.
Silas seemed to read his thoughts. Do
not do anything foolish. I do not want
to hurt either of you. Not permanently,
but I cannot have this rebellion
continuing. He gestured to the men
behind him. Bring them upstairs. We need
to discuss what happens next. They were
taken to Silus's study and locked inside
together. The room was windowless except
for one high transom, impossible to
reach. The door was heavy oak, locked
from outside. As soon as they were
alone, Catherine moved to Ezekiel. Are
you hurt? No, miss, but we are in
serious trouble. Yes, but not as much as
you think. She pulled something from
inside her dress. The papers they had
been copying. I managed to keep these.
He did not search me. Too confident.
That will not help if we are dead. We
are not going to die. Not tonight.
Catherine's eyes were calculating. My
father will want to resolve this without
killing me if possible. I am still his
daughter, his blood. That gives us
leverage. Over the next hour, they heard
arrivals, voices in the hall, men
gathering, the brethren was assembling.
Finally, the door opened. Marcus Fanning
stood there, face grim. They are ready
for you. Come peacefully, and you will
not be harmed. They were led down to the
cellar again. This time, the main
chamber had been transformed. All 13
brethren members present, dressed in
ritual robes.
Candles burned in every holder. The
altar was draped with crimson cloth. 13
chairs arranged in a perfect circle, all
occupied except Silas's at the altar's
head. Ezekiel and Catherine were
positioned in the circle's center,
forced to stand facing Silas. The other
members watched with expressions ranging
from curiosity to hostility. Silas
removed his hood. Brothers of the
harvest, thank you for coming on short
notice. We face a crisis. My daughter
and her associate discovered our inner
chamber. They saw the ledger. They were
copying entries when I interrupted them.
Judge Pelum spoke up. Then they must be
silenced permanently. This is not
complicated. I disagree. Silas held up a
hand. My daughter is blood. I cannot
simply dispose of her without exhausting
other options. And the man represents an
opportunity. What opportunity? Reverend
Krenshaw asked. To test something I have
long believed. That a person can be
drawn into our work through their own
actions if framed correctly. Silas
turned to Ezekiel. You want revenge on
me. You want to destroy me for what I
did to your family. I understand that.
But what if I offered you a different
kind of revenge, a more meaningful one?
I do not understand. Ezekiel said
carefully, "I am offering you
membership, not as an equal. The
brethren does not accept men of color as
full members, but as an associate. You
would attend our gatherings, participate
in rituals, and in exchange, I would
give you what you want most. My family
is dead. You cannot give me what I
want." No, but I can give you revenge
against the people who killed them. the
plantation owner in Alabama who worked
your wife and children to death. His
name is Edward Gaines. He is not part of
the brethren. He has no protection from
us. If you join us, prove your loyalty.
I will give you resources to destroy
him. Money, information, whatever you
need to make him suffer as you have
suffered. The offer hung in the air,
obscene in its calculation. Join the men
who destroyed his family to get revenge
on another monster. And if I refuse,
then you and Catherine both die tonight.
Your bodies go into the swamp. No one
will ever know what happened. The papers
Catherine was copying will be burned.
Her journals destroyed. Everything
continues as it always has. Silas spread
his hands. But if you accept, you live.
Catherine lives. You get your revenge.
All it costs is your soul. Ezekiel
looked at Catherine. Her face was pale,
but she gave him the slightest shake of
her head. Do not do it. Whatever
happens, do not become them.
But Ezekiel was thinking about
accepting, about getting inside their
organization, about gathering more
evidence, about buying time. He looked
back at Silas and Catherine. What
happens to her?
She returns to her room, resumes her
medications, forgets what she has seen.
The alternative is she dies alongside
you. No. Catherine's voice cut across
the chamber. I will not forget again. I
will not be silenced. Kill me if you
must, father, but I will not pretend I
do not know what you are. Silas's
expression hardened. Then you have made
your choice. Wait. Ezekiel spoke
quickly. I accept. But on one condition,
Catherine goes free. Not back to her
room. Free. Let her leave this house.
Leave South Carolina. Give her money to
start over. If you do that, I will join
you. Several brethren members shook
their heads. But Judge Pelum spoke. The
boy makes a point. The girl is already
broken. Even if she spoke, who would
believe her? But a man willing to join
us to be complicit. That is valuable.
That proves our power extends even to
those who hate us. Silas considered.
Finally, he nodded. Very well. Catherine
will be sent north. I have associates in
Philadelphia who will take her in. She
will be given a new identity and
stipened to live on, but she can never
return to South Carolina. Never contact
anyone from her old life. She will be
dead to everyone here. Agreed. Catherine
stared at Ezekiel. No, I will not leave
you to Agreed. Ezekiel interrupted. She
goes free. I join you. Then we have a
bargain. Silas turned to the others.
Catherine leaves tomorrow. Ezekiel's
initiation will be in 3 weeks at the
next regular gathering. Until then, he
remains at Cypress Grove under watch. If
he tries to escape or contact anyone,
the deal is void and both die.
Understood? Ezekiel nodded. Catherine
looked like she wanted to argue, but
Ezekiel caught her eye and shook his
head slightly. Trust me. Catherine left
the next morning. A closed carriage took
her away at dawn. Ezekiel watched from
his cabin window as it rolled down the
long drive and disappeared into the
trees. She had not been allowed to say
goodbye. He had not been allowed to
speak with her after the confrontation
in the cellar. But as she had been
escorted to her room the previous night,
she had looked back at him once, and in
her eyes he had seen something that gave
him hope. She understood.
She knew he had not truly surrendered.
She knew this was strategy, not defeat.
The question was whether she would
actually go to Philadelphia or whether
she had her own plans. The three weeks
that followed were the longest of
Ezekiel's life. He was kept under
constant watch. Two overseers followed
him everywhere. He was not allowed to
leave the plantation grounds. He was
given menial work to keep him occupied,
meaningless tasks that accomplished
nothing but filled time. But he was also
given access to the main house, to the
study where Silas kept his papers, to
the cellar where the next gathering
would take place. They were watching
him, yes, but they were also testing
him, seeing if he would try to escape,
seeing if he would attempt sabotage.
Ezekiel did neither. He played the role
of defeated man who had made a pragmatic
choice for survival. He was quiet,
obedient, asked no questions, caused no
problems. But he was observing
everything, learning the routines of the
house, noting which slaves could be
trusted, which overseers were cruel,
which brethren members visited
regularly. He was building a mental map
of how everything worked, looking for weaknesses.
weaknesses.
And at night, alone in his cabin, he
thought about what was coming. His
initiation would require participation
in their rituals. They would test him.
They would want to make him complicit in
something horrible, so he could never
expose them without destroying himself.
He thought about how far he was willing
to go, what lines he would not cross,
even for revenge, whether there was any
act so terrible that justice did not
justify it. He did not have good answers
to those questions. On June 2nd, the
night before his initiation, Silas came
to his cabin. It was late after
midnight. Ezekiel woke to knocking and
opened the door to find his owner
standing there alone. "May I come in?"
Ezekiel stepped aside. Silas entered and
looked around the sparse room. Finally,
he spoke. "Tomorrow, you will become one
of us. Not fully, never fully, but
enough. I want you to understand what
that means. I understand what I agreed
to. Do you? Do you truly? Silus sat on
the single chair uninvited. The brethren
has existed for 43 years. In that time,
we have never lost a member to exposure.
Never had someone break our code of
silence. Do you know why? Because
everyone is equally guilty. Partly, but
also because we take care of each other.
A man joins the brethren and suddenly
doors open. Business opportunities
appear. Legal problems disappear.
Enemies find themselves in difficulty.
We are not just a society, Ezekiel. We
are a network of power that extends
across the entire south. Once you are
part of that network, even as an
associate, you will have access to
resources you cannot imagine. And in
exchange, I help you murder people.
Silas did not flinch. In exchange, you
help us maintain the natural order, the
strong over the weak, the powerful over
the powerless. That is how the world has
always worked. We simply acknowledge it
and use it to our advantage. You killed
my family to demonstrate your commitment
to that order. I did, and I would do it
again because sentiment is weakness.
Love is weakness. The moment you allow
yourself to care more about individuals
than about power, you have already lost.
Silas leaned forward. But here is what I
want you to understand. Your family is
dead. Nothing you do will change that.
But you can ensure their deaths meant
something. You can use the power the
brethren offers to prevent other
families from suffering the same fate.
You can work from inside our
organization to make changes, to push
for less brutal treatment of slaves, to
advocate for better conditions. You will
have a voice at our table that is worth
something. It was almost convincing
almost. The idea that Ezekiel could
become some kind of reformer from
within, using his position to help
others, but he knew it was a trap, a rationalization.
rationalization.
The moment he participated in their
rituals, he would be compromised. The
moment he accepted their power, he would
be corrupted by it. "Why are you telling
me this?" Ezekiel asked. "Because I want
you to succeed. Because having you as an
ally is more valuable than having you as
an enemy. Because I killed your family,
but I do not want to kill you." Silus
stood. Tomorrow night, you will be asked
to do something difficult. something
that will test whether you truly commit
to this path. I am telling you now,
whatever you are asked to do, do it. Do
not hesitate. Do not show weakness
because if you fail the test, both you
and Catherine die. Yes, I know she is
not really in Philadelphia. I know she
is hiding somewhere planning her own
revenge. But I have people watching for
her. The moment she surfaces, if you
have not proven yourself, she will be
found and killed. Do you understand? Ice
flooded through Ezekiel. Catherine was
alive, but she was in danger. And his
actions tomorrow would determine whether
she lived or died. "I understand," he
said quietly. Silas nodded and left
without another word. Ezekiel sat alone
in the dark cabin, thinking about the
impossible position he was in. "He had
to participate in something monstrous
tomorrow. Had to prove himself to
monsters. had to become complicit in
evil, or he had to find another way. A
third option that neither Silas nor the
brethren anticipated. He pulled out the
paper with his family's names, looked at
them in the moonlight coming through the
window. "Forgive me," he whispered, "for
what I'm about to do, for what I have to
become. I promise you it will not be for
nothing." The gathering began at
midnight on June 3rd. Ezekiel was
brought to the cellar by two brethren
members who stripped him to the waist
and tied his hands behind his back. They
led him down the stairs into the candle
lit chamber where all 13 members waited
in their robes. Silas stood at the
altar's head. Brothers of the harvest,
tonight we conduct an initiation unlike
any in our history. We bring into our
circle a man who has every reason to
hate us. a man who has lost everything
because of what we represent. We do this
to prove that our power extends even to
our enemies. That anyone can be brought
into the fold if the price is right. He
gestured and two more brethren members
brought forward a figure bound and
gagged, struggling weakly. They placed
the person on the altar and stepped
back. It was a young woman, enslaved,
maybe 18 or 19 years old, terrified.
This is your test, Ezekiel. Silas said
to join us, you must participate in our
ritual. You must take the knife and make
the first cut. You must prove that your
desire for revenge against gains is
stronger than your moral objections to
our methods. If you refuse, you die here
tonight. If you accept, you become one
of us, and we help you destroy the man
who killed your family." The other
brethren members began chanting low
rhythmic sounds in a language Ezekiel
did not recognize. The candles
flickered. Shadows danced on the walls.
Silas held out a knife. Long blade,
wickedly sharp handle wrapped in
leather. Take it. Make the choice.
Ezekiel looked at the woman on the
altar. She was crying, trying to scream
through the gag. Her eyes found his. And
in them he saw every enslaved person who
had ever suffered at the hands of people
like the brethren. He saw Sarah,
Benjamin, Ruth. He saw himself. He
looked at the knife, at Silas, at the 13
men watching to see what he would do.
This was the moment, the point where he
would either become a monster or die
resisting. But there was a third option,
one he had been planning for 3 weeks,
one that required perfect timing and
absolute commitment. He took the knife.
The brethren members nodded approvingly.
Silas smiled. The chanting increased in
intensity. Ezekiel stepped toward the
altar. The woman's eyes went wide with
terror. He raised the knife and then he
moved not toward the woman, toward the
nearest brethren member. The knife
flashed in the candle light and buried
itself in the man's throat before anyone
could react. Blood sprayed. The man
collapsed. Ezekiel grabbed the fallen
member's robe, pulling it off in one
motion. He threw it over the nearest
candles, plunging half the room into
darkness. Chaos erupted. He moved
through the confusion like violence
incarnate. Years of rage focused into
action. He grabbed another man, using
him as a shield as someone swung at him,
threw the body into two more members,
tangling them, kicked out at a knee,
heard bone crack, grabbed a candle
holder, and smashed it into a face. The
brethren were powerful men, but they
were not fighters. They were soft,
privileged, used to others doing
violence for them. Ezekiel was none of
those things. He fought toward the altar
where the woman lay, grabbed her, cut
her bonds with the knife he had somehow
kept hold of. "Run!" he shouted up the
stairs. "Run!"
She scrambled off the altar and fled.
Ezekiel turned back to face the
remaining brethren members, seven of
them still standing, blocking the
stairs. "You have made a terrible
mistake," Silas said, his voice steady
despite the carnage. You have killed
yourself and Catherine both. Maybe,
Ezekiel said, but I will take as many of
you with me as I can. What he did not
know was that above them in the main
house, Catherine had returned. She had
never gone to Philadelphia.
She had been hiding in the slave
quarters, waiting, planning, gathering
allies among the enslaved people of
Cypress Grove. And when she heard the
commotion from the cellar, when she saw
the young woman burst from the kitchen
screaming, she knew it was time. The
reckoning. Catherine had spent 3 weeks
recruiting. She had moved from
plantation to plantation under cover of
darkness. Speaking to enslaved people
she had known her whole life, people who
had watched her grow up, who had
suffered under her father's ownership.
She told them about the brethren, about
the cellar, about the rituals, and she
told them that tonight was the night
they could end it. 23 people came, men
and women who had nothing left to lose,
who had lost children to the brethren's
rituals, who had watched friends
disappear into the swamps, who had
endured decades of brutality from men
who believed themselves untouchable.
They came armed with tools from the
fields, axes, sithes, hammers. They came
with rage that had been building for
generations. When the young woman burst
from the cellar, Catherine led them
down. The brethren members, still trying
to subdue Ezekiel, did not hear them
coming until it was too late. The
enslaved people flooded into the cellar
like a tide. There was no mercy in what
followed, no hesitation.
These were people who had been told
their entire lives they were property,
that their suffering did not matter,
that their lives had no value. Now they
were proving how wrong those beliefs
were. The brethren tried to fight. Judge
Pelum pulled a pistol but was struck
down before he could fire. Reverend
Krenshaw begged for mercy and received
none. Marcus Fanning tried to flee up
the stairs and was dragged back down.
Silus Rutled, seeing everything collapse
around him, tried one last desperate
play. He grabbed Catherine, pulling her
to him with a knife at her throat. Stop.
Stop or I kill her. The room went still.
Catherine looked at her father with no
fear in her eyes. Do it. Kill me. It
changes nothing. You have already lost.
I can still escape. I can still You can
still nothing. Catherine's voice was
cold. You spent 16 years trying to break
me, trying to make me forget, trying to
convince me I was mad. But you failed. I
remembered everything. And I am going to
watch you die. She drove her elbow back
into his ribs with sudden vicious force.
His grip loosened. She spun away. And
before Silas could recover, Ezekiel was
there. They faced each other, the
enslaved man and the plantation owner.
All the power Silas had held, all the
privilege and cruelty, all the years of
believing himself untouchable.
None of it mattered now. You took
everything from me," Ezekiel said
quietly. "My wife, my children, my life.
You did it for no reason except that you
could to prove something to men who
valued cruelty over humanity."
"Please," Silas said. Just that one
word, pathetic and desperate. Did my
wife say please? Did my son? Did any of
the people you killed in this cellar?
Ezekiel shook his head. No mercy. Not
for you. Not ever. What happened next
was brutal and final. The enslaved
people made sure none of the brethren
survived. 13 men who had believed
themselves above consequence learned in
their final moments that power was an
illusion. That cruelty always came home
eventually. When it was over, Catherine
stood in the center of the cellar,
surrounded by bodies. She was shaking,
not from fear, but from release. 16
years of rage finally given outlet.
Ezekiel came to her. Are you hurt? No.
Are you? Minor cuts. Nothing serious. He looked around at the carnage. What do we
looked around at the carnage. What do we do now? Now? Catherine's smile was grim.
do now? Now? Catherine's smile was grim. Now we burn it all. The cellar, the
Now we burn it all. The cellar, the ledger, the evidence. We destroy every
ledger, the evidence. We destroy every trace of what happened here. But that
trace of what happened here. But that evidence could prove what they did.
evidence could prove what they did. Could bring justice. Justice? Catherine
Could bring justice. Justice? Catherine laughed bitterly. Ezekiel looked around.
laughed bitterly. Ezekiel looked around. This is justice. The only kind we were
This is justice. The only kind we were ever going to get. If we try to take
ever going to get. If we try to take that ledger to authorities, what
that ledger to authorities, what happens? We are hunted down and killed.
happens? We are hunted down and killed. The surviving brethren members in other
The surviving brethren members in other counties come for us. This only ends if
counties come for us. This only ends if everyone believes the Cypress Grove
everyone believes the Cypress Grove chapter died in an accident. If there is
chapter died in an accident. If there is no evidence, no witnesses, no story to
no evidence, no witnesses, no story to tell. She was right and Ezekiel knew it.
tell. She was right and Ezekiel knew it. Then we burn it. They spent the next 2
Then we burn it. They spent the next 2 hours preparing. The enslaved people who
hours preparing. The enslaved people who had helped them left before dawn,
had helped them left before dawn, disappearing back to their various
disappearing back to their various plantations. They would say nothing.
plantations. They would say nothing. They had seen nothing. They knew
They had seen nothing. They knew nothing. That was how survival worked.
nothing. That was how survival worked. Catherine and Ezekiel poured oil through
Catherine and Ezekiel poured oil through the cellar, stacked wood and kindling,
the cellar, stacked wood and kindling, placed the bodies in positions that
placed the bodies in positions that might look like an accident if anyone
might look like an accident if anyone investigated. Then they took the ledger
investigated. Then they took the ledger and all the journals and placed them in
and all the journals and placed them in the center of the altar. "Wait," Ezekiel
the center of the altar. "Wait," Ezekiel said. He opened the ledger one last time
said. He opened the ledger one last time and found the entries about his family.
and found the entries about his family. He carefully tore out those pages and
He carefully tore out those pages and folded them, placing them inside his
folded them, placing them inside his shirt. For them, so they are not
shirt. For them, so they are not forgotten. Catherine nodded. Then she
forgotten. Catherine nodded. Then she took a candle and held it to the oil
took a candle and held it to the oil soaked wood. The fire caught
soaked wood. The fire caught immediately. Within minutes, the cellar
immediately. Within minutes, the cellar was ablaze. They fled up the stairs and
was ablaze. They fled up the stairs and out of the house, stood in the yard,
out of the house, stood in the yard, watching as flames engulfed Cypress
watching as flames engulfed Cypress Grove Plantation. People would come.
Grove Plantation. People would come. Other plantations would see the smoke.
Other plantations would see the smoke. There would be questions, but Catherine
There would be questions, but Catherine and Ezekiel had their story prepared.
and Ezekiel had their story prepared. A terrible accident. A candle knocked
A terrible accident. A candle knocked over in the cellar. The master and his
over in the cellar. The master and his guests trapped below. So tragic, so
guests trapped below. So tragic, so terrible, no one would ever know the
terrible, no one would ever know the truth. As the sun rose over the burning
truth. As the sun rose over the burning ruins, Catherine turned to Ezekiel.
ruins, Catherine turned to Ezekiel. What will you do now? Go north. Use the
What will you do now? Go north. Use the chaos of this fire to disappear. maybe
chaos of this fire to disappear. maybe find others who want to fight to create
find others who want to fight to create a network that can help people escape.
a network that can help people escape. He pulled out the paper with his
He pulled out the paper with his family's names. I cannot bring them
family's names. I cannot bring them back, but I can make sure others do not
back, but I can make sure others do not suffer the same fate, and I will go
suffer the same fate, and I will go north as well. Use the money I have been
north as well. Use the money I have been stealing from my father's accounts for
stealing from my father's accounts for years. Start over, she paused. But I
years. Start over, she paused. But I will not forget. I will document
will not forget. I will document everything that happened here. I will
everything that happened here. I will write it all down so that someday
write it all down so that someday somehow someone knows the truth. They
somehow someone knows the truth. They sealed the records. They will seal your
sealed the records. They will seal your testimony too if you try to make it
testimony too if you try to make it public. Then I will hide it. I will code
public. Then I will hide it. I will code it. I will leave it somewhere to be
it. I will leave it somewhere to be found decades from now when we are all
found decades from now when we are all dead and it cannot hurt us anymore. She
dead and it cannot hurt us anymore. She looked at the burning house. The truth
looked at the burning house. The truth has a way of surfacing eventually. Even
has a way of surfacing eventually. Even when people tried to bury it, they
when people tried to bury it, they stayed until the fire burned itself out,
stayed until the fire burned itself out, until Cypress Grove Plantation was
until Cypress Grove Plantation was nothing but ash and blackened timbers,
nothing but ash and blackened timbers, until there was nothing left to show
until there was nothing left to show that 13 men had gathered there to commit
that 13 men had gathered there to commit atrocities. Then they walked away in
atrocities. Then they walked away in opposite directions, Catherine north
opposite directions, Catherine north toward Charleston and eventually
toward Charleston and eventually Philadelphia, Ezekiel west toward the
Philadelphia, Ezekiel west toward the frontier, where enslaved people could
frontier, where enslaved people could disappear into communities that asked no
disappear into communities that asked no questions. They never saw each other
questions. They never saw each other again. The official story was exactly as
again. The official story was exactly as they had planned, a tragic accident.
they had planned, a tragic accident. Silas Rutled and 12 prominent gentlemen
Silas Rutled and 12 prominent gentlemen meeting at Cypress Grove to discuss
meeting at Cypress Grove to discuss business when a fire broke out. All 13
business when a fire broke out. All 13 perished in the cellar, overcome by
perished in the cellar, overcome by smoke before they could escape. A
smoke before they could escape. A terrible loss for Colletin County.
terrible loss for Colletin County. Funerals with full honors. Eulogies
Funerals with full honors. Eulogies praising their contributions to society.
praising their contributions to society. Katherine Rutled was reported to have
Katherine Rutled was reported to have died in the fire as well. Her father's
died in the fire as well. Her father's mad daughter trapped in her room, unable
mad daughter trapped in her room, unable to escape, a particularly sad footnote
to escape, a particularly sad footnote to an already tragic event. No one
to an already tragic event. No one questioned it. No one looked too
questioned it. No one looked too closely. The enslaved people who had
closely. The enslaved people who had participated said nothing. They had no
participated said nothing. They had no reason to speak and every reason to
reason to speak and every reason to remain silent. Most were sold within
remain silent. Most were sold within months to different plantations as
months to different plantations as Cypress Grove was liquidated. They
Cypress Grove was liquidated. They scattered across South Carolina and
scattered across South Carolina and beyond, carrying their secret with them
beyond, carrying their secret with them to their graves.
to their graves. Years passed.
Years passed. The ruins of Cypress Grove were
The ruins of Cypress Grove were eventually demolished. The land sold,
eventually demolished. The land sold, new buildings constructed. Life moved on
new buildings constructed. Life moved on as it always does, covering over the
as it always does, covering over the past with the present. But whispers
past with the present. But whispers persisted. Stories told in slave
persisted. Stories told in slave quarters late at night about the
quarters late at night about the plantation where the masters burned.
plantation where the masters burned. About the night justice came to men who
About the night justice came to men who thought themselves untouchable. About
thought themselves untouchable. About the woman and the man who made it
the woman and the man who made it happen. The stories changed with each
happen. The stories changed with each telling becoming legend, becoming myth.
telling becoming legend, becoming myth. But the core remained. That cruelty had
But the core remained. That cruelty had consequences. That power was not
consequences. That power was not absolute. That sometimes the powerless
absolute. That sometimes the powerless found their power. In 1863, during the
found their power. In 1863, during the Civil War, Union troops occupied the
Civil War, Union troops occupied the area where Cypress Grove had stood. They
area where Cypress Grove had stood. They found evidence of old tunnels beneath
found evidence of old tunnels beneath the property, found bones in the nearby
the property, found bones in the nearby swamp, found markings on trees that
swamp, found markings on trees that suggested ritual sites, but the war
suggested ritual sites, but the war moved on, and no one had time to
moved on, and no one had time to investigate further. In 1971, during
investigate further. In 1971, during demolition work, a journal was found
demolition work, a journal was found sealed in a wall. It detailed
sealed in a wall. It detailed everything, names, dates, rituals,
everything, names, dates, rituals, victims. But as Catherine had predicted,
victims. But as Catherine had predicted, it was coded. And before anyone could
it was coded. And before anyone could fully decode it, the journal vanished
fully decode it, the journal vanished from county records. Some say it was
from county records. Some say it was destroyed. Others say it was taken by
destroyed. Others say it was taken by descendants of the brethren families
descendants of the brethren families protecting their ancestors secrets. A
protecting their ancestors secrets. A few believe it still exists somewhere,
few believe it still exists somewhere, waiting to be rediscovered when the time
waiting to be rediscovered when the time is right. What is known is this. 13
is right. What is known is this. 13 prominent men died in a fire in 1841.
prominent men died in a fire in 1841. Katherine Rutled disappeared shortly
Katherine Rutled disappeared shortly afterward, though no body was ever
afterward, though no body was ever confirmed found. An enslaved man named
confirmed found. An enslaved man named Ezekiel Cross was reported sold to a
Ezekiel Cross was reported sold to a plantation in Alabama, but no record of
plantation in Alabama, but no record of the transaction exists. And for years
the transaction exists. And for years afterward, stories circulated among
afterward, stories circulated among enslaved communities about a network
enslaved communities about a network helping people escape, led by a man who
helping people escape, led by a man who had faced the monster and won. Whether
had faced the monster and won. Whether those stories were true or just wishful
those stories were true or just wishful thinking, no one can say for certain.
thinking, no one can say for certain. But sometimes truth lives not in
But sometimes truth lives not in official records, but in the stories
official records, but in the stories people tell, in the memories they keep,
people tell, in the memories they keep, in the justice they remember, even when
in the justice they remember, even when history tries to forget. This mystery
history tries to forget. This mystery shows us that power built on cruelty is
shows us that power built on cruelty is never as solid as it seems. That secrets
never as solid as it seems. That secrets kept in darkness eventually find light.
kept in darkness eventually find light. That the people deemed powerless often
That the people deemed powerless often hold the most dangerous power of all.
hold the most dangerous power of all. The power of witness, the power of
The power of witness, the power of memory, the power of refusing to forget.
memory, the power of refusing to forget. What do you think of this story? Do you
What do you think of this story? Do you believe everything was revealed? Do you
believe everything was revealed? Do you think that journal still exists
think that journal still exists somewhere waiting to be found? Leave
somewhere waiting to be found? Leave your comment below. If you enjoyed this
your comment below. If you enjoyed this tale and want more dark historical
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