The tax collector only stared at him in stunned disbelief before going away. He returned the next day with the county sheriff, Peter Wormsley, who knew all the Merians and knew them to be free people, and law abiding besides. He said as much to the tax assessor, but the other man ignored his witness and employed his higher rank to insist on Magnus’s arrest.

“He will come round once he has a little time to consider it,” Spector said, having grown up among Negroes and so claiming to know their ways.

“I just don’t know,” Wormsley argued. “Everybody around here has known the Merians a long time. You might start some stink with all this.”

“I do not care for your opining,” Spector answered, issuing Magnus a summons to appear before the county magistrate, who happened to be his cousin by marriage and whom he had sent for the previous day. He then ordered the sheriff to bring Magnus down to Chase to be held until his hearing.

Magnus, in irons, was quite fearful by now, but held himself in as dignified a posture as possible when they carted him off. Having provoked the law, however, he had no idea what would happen to him next.

They held him in the Chase jailhouse for two days, waiting for the magistrate to arrive from Edenton. During the time of his imprisonment, word of what had happened spread throughout Berkeley, until everyone was debating the fairness of the law or else arguing what they knew about the Merian family. There was no shortage then of invention to the stories people told, as they anticipated what would transpire and tried to fill the void of not knowing.

Some claimed Magnus deserved whatever treatment he got, as there were too many people settling in the area anyway. Others pointed out that the Merians were among the first to arrive. Still others claimed the Merians weren’t Negro at all but that Jasper was a Portuguese who once worked in the Crown’s employ.

Adelia was unwilling to leave to her neighbors’ imaginations what should become of her husband, and when the sheriff’s wagon rolled away she did not despair but began to think what she might best do to help get Magnus released. At last it occurred to her, and she had Caleum hitch a team and drive her over to Rudolph Stanton’s place.

Stanton was their neighbor to the north and one of the wealthiest landowners in the colony. Over the years, she knew, both Merian and Magnus had performed small favors for him, such as one neighbor inevitably does for another — returning a lost calf here, mending a broken fence there. He was also their representative in the Assembly and, although he kept slaves himself, was known to be otherwise fair and without general prejudice.

Despite these things she approached the house with trepidation, it being rare for anyone from Stonehouses to go outside of it for help in anything. She also knew Stanton to be greedy for land and feared, as she went up the driveway, he might try in some way to take advantage of their weakened situation. She fretted at last that she simply did not know the man and there was no reason for him to help her.

When she was let into the house it was early afternoon, and Stanton had obviously just woken. He received her nevertheless, and was outright angry when he heard what had happened. When she finished he promised to intervene on Magnus’s behalf.

Having given his word in the matter he was true to it. Immediately after lunch he sent a message around to the sheriff stating that, among other things, Magnus Merian should immediately be released from prison and allowed to return to his home. Wormsley was only too happy to oblige with this, and sent word back to Stanton, as had been requested, promising to let him know when the magistrate arrived.

Magnus, as he awaited his trial at Stonehouses, thought how he would defend himself. He knew he was free, and none could prove otherwise without sending to Virginia, but he wondered what difference that would make to a court that let law be written by the whims and wants of the moment. As for his legal status, his only evidence was the paper from Content, and if anyone asked how he came to be free he would hardly have an explanation. He worried then those two nights — as he did his first out of captivity — about what would happen to him and his family if things proceeded poorly. If only, he thought, he had paid the tax assessor his toll. Never mind that he felt he had been paying tax since his first day on earth.

When the magistrate arrived in town, Rudolph Stanton sent round for Magnus to come to his house. Relieved that it would soon be over no matter what the outcome, Magnus left Stonehouses with a light heart that morning. The closer he drew to Acre, Stanton’s place, the heavier the burden inside him seemed to grow, though, until he stood before the door almost unable to move. Mustering his resolve, he knocked at last at the towering mahogany door and was led to an upstairs room by the housemaid. When he entered, the judge was already seated, along with the sheriff and his nemesis the tax assessor. He looked at each in turn before sitting in a chair Stanton pointed out to him.

“I have called all of you here so that we might conclude this matter as expeditiously as possible,” Stanton said flatly. “Now, it would appear that the tax assessor, Mr. Spector here, attempted to extort my neighbor, Mr. Merian there, and, when he failed to receive this danegeld, kidnapped him from his family’s lawful lands and possessions.”

The magistrate was taken aback when he heard such strong terms, because Stanton had not let him know his stake in the matter beforehand. Stanton then turned and addressed him directly. “John, you have sent here a man without scruples, who makes up law and spreads terror across the county without cause, other than his own need for profit and mischief. He has taken monies from its citizens and behaved in general like his very own private Parliament.”

“He did not mean to, Rudolph,” the magistrate said on behalf of his cousin, who, sensing the jeopardy he was in, remained silent.

“What is it exactly you are saying he did not mean to do,” Stanton pressed, “spread terror or invent law? Mr. Merian is a sizable landowner here. The Merians have always paid their taxes and performed what was required of them in civic matters. Now you have sent out a highwayman, masquerading as a tax collector, who carts him off to jail for not having proof of his freedom? Why, John, what proof have you of yours, any more than he of his?”

“None,” the other admitted, “but it’s not the same thing.”

“It isn’t? The only thing I want to know is how the legitimate law intends to stand behind Mr. Merian in protecting his rights.”

“But Rudolph,” the magistrate protested, trying to find suitable terms to make the matter go away, “he’s kin to me. You can’t mean for me to jail him.”

“Then what do you propose?” asked Stanton, who thought children should always be given the chance to choose their own punishment.

Magnus had not dared to speak all the while this was going on. He knew his father had been held in esteem by his neighbors, but his own contact with them had been so scant he was genuinely surprised to see another man stand up and defend him. Watching Mr. Stanton and the magistrate, it seemed to him they were two great men involved in private discussions of very weighty matters and affairs affecting the whole county, until he remembered he was the reason for the day’s proceedings. So when the magistrate said he would fire his cousin from his post, and Rudolph Stanton added that the man should first issue him a written apology, it took a very long time for Magnus to make his own request.

“Begging pardon, Mr. Stanton, but how can I know the next tax collector won’t try to do the exact same thing?”

“Indeed. How will he have confidence of that?” Stanton asked the magistrate, raising one of his large bushy eyebrows.