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Solomon waits outside the house on the porch. As he waits he slides his finger tips over his still freshly- burned tattoo. A HOUSE NIGGER approaches and admonishes Solomon.
HOUSE NIGGER
Off the porch. Get off.
Like a dog shooed away, Solomon steps down.
Eventually Judge Turner exits the house and crosses to Solomon.
SOLOMON
...Sir...
JUDGE TURNER
Platt is it? Have you cultivated
cane previously?
SOLOMON
No, sir, I have not.
JUDGE TURNER
You take to it quite naturally.
SOLOMON
I surprise myself. I was poor for
cotton picking, and suffered the
lash on a schedule. For whatever
reason the Lord has chosen to give
me skills in the cane he has
withheld otherwise.
JUDGE TURNER
From where do you hail?
SOLOMON
Washington, sir.
JUDGE TURNER
And upon bill of sale, here you
came directly?
SOLOMON
Sir.
JUDGE TURNER
You play the fiddle?
SOLOMON
I do.
JUDGE TURNER
Where did you learn?
SOLOMON
Over time. Here and there.
JUDGE TURNER
Are you educated?
SOLOMON
Niggers are hired to work, not to
read and write.
JUDGE TURNER
Epps warned that I should mind you
above all. However, I cannot help
but take note of you. You don't
niggers, and I sense that you have
seen more of the world than you
admit.
SOLOMON
I am just what is before you, sir.
Nothing more.
If anything Turner is impressed by Solomon's ability to dodge.
JUDGE TURNER
What is before me is far too
clever to be relegated to the
field. You are to be elevated to
a driver in the sugar house.
We'll see if you take to the whip
as well as the cane. You'll board
with the other trustees.
SOLOMON
Sir.
JUDGE TURNER
And Platt, now and again I hear of
patrons in need of a good fiddler.
I will pass along your name. What
you earn is yours to keep.