Queen (55 page)

    he remembered Jass taking that fence every day on his return from school.

    He told himself that if his son could do it, he could do it.

    He headed straight for the fence. Murdoch closed his eyes. Monkey Jack

    watched in silence, not sure if he wanted his Massa to fail, which might

    hurt the horse, or succeed, because then he might not stop and the horse

    might be hurt more.

    James and Glencoe cleared the fence easily, exquisitely, elegantly, the

    horse landing surefooted on the other side.

    They had momentum now. Their blood was up, and they could not stop there,

    nor did either of them, man or beast, have any desire to do so.

    Murdoch was furious. "Tell Missy Sally," he ordered Ephraim. "And Cap'n

    Jack."

    Ephraim took off running for the big house. Murdoch went to saddle

    another horse, to go looking for his endangered charge.

    Sally, in the cellar with Parson Dick, had no idea of the commotion at

    the stables.

330 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    Pattie, changing sheets in Jass's room, glanced out of the window and saw

    them, and was surprised, for she knew the ol' Massa was only up from his

    sickbed today.

    "Wouldn't let my pappy do it," she said to no one, and went about her

    duties.

    James knew it was wrong, knew he was breaking every rule in regard to the

    treatment of his precious horses-he'd written most of them himself-and

    he didn't care; it only added to the rollicking joy he felt. Free from

    the constraints of caution and prudence, they were racing now not against

    any mortal competitor but against the relentless passage of time. The

    weight of responsibility had fallen from James's shoulders and taken

    years from him, so that he felt like a boy again, errant and naughty and

    young,

    "I can do anything," he called to no one as they galloped down the lane,

    and knew there was one more thing he needed. Before, he had simply wanted

    to do something wild, something that would give him a joy in living

    again, but now he had a purpose.

    He slowed the horse to a canter, looked about, then directed the horse

    off the lane and into the fields of the plantation.

    It was not a fence, although it fenced in a large paddock that was being

    allowed to lie fallow; it was a hedgerow, unattended over the years, and

    now rambling and unruly and more than a tall man high.

    James kept his distance from it, looking at it, considering it, and

    Glencoe snorted and stamped and pawed the ground, as if in anticipation

    of some real adventure.

    James knew the jump was too high, and he didn't care. He knew he could

    harm the animal, and he didn't care. He knew he could hurt, or even kill,

    himself, and he didn't care, for he was not of this time and place. He

    was on an Olympian plain with only this Promethean creature and a

    formidable challenge, and the bridge between the horse and the challenge

    was himself.

    " We can do it," he said to the horse, knowing the horse already knew,

    sweating, steaming, nostrils flaring, urgently restless, as if after a

    lifetime of controlled and perfect discipline this moment of triumphant

    freedom was unbearably precious to him.

    MERGING 331

    "I can do it," said James. He kicked the horse on. The sound of thunder

    rang in his ears, as the horse pounded to the challenge.

    "I can do it!" James cried as the horse left the ground and soared over

    the fence. Flying now, flying on a great streak of lightning, riding now,

    riding on any rainbow and arching to the ground.

    "I can do anything!" James yelled at heaven, as the horse landed

    flawlessly on the other side.

They looked a dejected pair as they walked up the great drive home, but

it was only exhaustion. They were partners, James and Glencoe, in a

conspiracy of freedom. Stable hands came running to them to take charge,

but James stayed mounted and walked the animal up the little hill to the

house.

    They were all there, as he knew they would be, Sally and Cap'n Jack, the

    house slaves and Parson Dick. Even Mitchell the overseer. What did he

    have to do with it all? And Murdoch, who had lost the trail and had

    returned here.

    "Time to face the music," he whispered to Glencoe as he slid to the

    ground and allowed Ephraim to lead the animal away.

    He was tired, he wanted to go to bed, and he wondered why there had to

    be a fuss. Murdoch spoke first, as was proper.

    "That was very wrong, sir," he said. "Happily the animal is not hanned,

    but I could not continue to serve you if it happened again."

    James took the lecture in good part. "It's all fight, Murdoch. It was

    very wrong, and it will not happen again," he promised. "I am sorry.

    Perhaps you should see to Glencoe."

    Murdoch accepted the apology, but with bad grace, and stomped away. James

    determined to go to him later and try to make him understand, but he

    couldn't do it now, he was so very, very tired.

    Sally started to speak, but James interrupted her, because suddenly

    something of desperate urgency needed to be done.

"Fetch my son," he said.

    He fell to the ground. Sally cried out and ran to him, but Cap'n Jack got

    to him first, gathered him up in his arms, and took him into the house.

332 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    Sally led them into the sitting room, and Cap'n Jack laid his Massa on

    a sofa, loosened his collar, and told Parson Dick, who had followed them,

    to bring water.

    James was ashen gray, his breathing shaflow. Sally was terrified, for she

    had seen death often enough to know the shadow was passing over her

    husband. "Send someone for Hargreaves," she ordered Cap'n Jack, praying

    that help might arrive in time. Mitchell, hovering in the doorway, unsure

    of his place, hurried away to fetch the doctor.

    Cap'n Jack felt James clutching at his hand. "Jass," James whispered.

    "Get Jass."

    Sally nodded to Cap'n Jack, but James would not let go of his hand, for

    perhaps Jass would not come in time. He had to make them see, he had to

    make them understand, there was something Jass had to know, and it

    mattered to him more than anything in all the world, even more, at that

    moment, than his life.

"Jass," he said again. "Tell him-"

    He couldn't finish. Why was it so hard to say? It was so simple, he'd

    known it for years. Why was it so difficult for him now?

"There is God," he gasped, but Sally stroked his brow.

"Hush, my dear," she said. "We all believe in God. Rest--

    "No! " James managed to cry, for that wasn't it. "There is God--

    How could he make them understand? He saw Cap'n Jack's hand clasped in

    his own, the black on white, and thought that might be a way. There was

    so little time. He held the slave's hand close to his wife's face.

    "There is God," he managed to whisper, and fell back against the

    headrest. Cap'n Jack leaned in close. James whispered something more.

    Cap'n Jack thought he heard the word "everyone," but wasn't sure. He

    leaned closer again.

    James was smiling at him. The smile never left his face, but Cap'n Jack

    knew that his soul had left his body. He was there and then he was not

    there, and Cap'n Jack would never be able to pinpoint the moment of

    departure with any accuracy.

He looked at Sally, and told her what she already knew.

"He gone, Missus," he said.

    MERGING 333

    Sally closed her eyes. She wanted to grab hold of her husband and drag

    him back from wherever it was that he had gone, but she knew he wouldn't

    come. She wanted to cry out, to make him hear ~er, wherever he was, and

    come back to her from that awful place, but she knew he would not hear

    her.

    She didn't cry out; she whispered an order to the slave instead:

"Fetch the Master."

    41

lass swam easily in the flowing stream. Although it had been a warm

summer, the creek water was still cool and refreshing, caressing his naked

body as ice calms a bum, the gentle pressure of the current soothing his

muscles, tense from a hard ride on Morgan.

    The unspeakable happened, not from any immediate sexual need but the

    continuous pressure of the surrounding element. Jass was aware of it and

    indulged the sensation, swimming harder now, and recognizing the need

    that was being signaled that had to be filled.

    For Jass was determined to lose his virginity before he went to college,

    which left him a year to achieve his ambition. All his classmates had

    told him, truthfully or otherwise, that they had taken the final step

    into the world of manhood, and laughed at Jass for his lack of

    initiative. Then he had received a vibrant letter from Wesley in Texas.

    The western adventure had proved to be everything that Wesley had wanted.

    He had joined Sam Houston's army, had fought in battles for the new

    republic, and was living the life of a young man's dreams. Following the

    model of his hero, Houston, he had abandoned European comforts and had

    taken two Comanche women in polygamous marriage. He had been made blood

    brother into their tribe, was learning the skills of a warrior, and had

    even scalped a man, a Mexican, in some small skirmish. But reading

334 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

between the lines, Jass could tell that Wesley had no sense of permanent

obligation to either woman but would abandon them if he was bored, or if

some new horizon beckoned. Home was the prairie, their house a teepee, and

he sang the glory of wild Texas. He had adopted the Lone Star Republic as

his new country, and almost seemed to regret the political bartering that

would eventually incorporate his new nation into his old. Now it is a

challenge to any true man, he wrote. If it becomes part of the United

States, those petty fellows from Washington will turn it into something

as dull as the rest of the world.

    The letter made Jass envious. Compared to the swashbuckling Wesley, he

    felt himself to be a callow, inexperienced boy who had not yet even been

    brave enough to take a woman, while Wesley had already savored all the

    delights that virile masculinity had to offer. He stopped swimming,

    climbed onto a flat rock, and stretched out to bask in the warmth of the

    sun and consider the possibilities.

    Lizzie was not any part of the solution. He liked Lizzie very much, he

    wanted her in his life, and what he felt for her was something he wanted

    in his life, too. He didn't think it was love-he still didn't know what

    love was, or thought he didn't-but it was something positive, and he

    imagined that he and Lizzie would always be friends. He didn't have a lot

    of carnal thoughts about Lizzie, a few but not many, and when he did it

    was only to get his own back on her for a silly tiff they'd had, or

    because she would sometimes edge her way into his nocturnal dreams and

    there were few other white women he wanted to dream about.

    Lizzie was a white woman of a certain class, a possible, potential bride,

    and, Jass imagined, a virgin, and he would no more have attempted to

    seduce any such woman than fly to the moon.

    He had heard stories of a few white women of easy virtue who lived in

    Decatur, but they expected payment for their services, and Jass didn't

    want his first experience to be with someone like that.

    This narrowed the field to nigras, which expanded the potential

    co-celebrants of his initiation to a remarkable number. Almost any black

    woman he chose to have was available to

    MERGING 335

him, any of his own slave women, any of his friends' slave women, or any

slave women owned by strangers. In the two latter cases, the actual owner

might cause a fuss, but if he asked that owner first, it was probable the

permission would be granted. As to his own slaves, his power over them was

such that he had only to snap his fingers and they had no choice but to

lie down and open their legs to him. They could holler and protest for all

they were worth, and it would do no good. He was their Massa, and as such

had the fight to dispose of them as he wished, and no court in the land

would say otherwise.

    Wesley had done it like that, although the girl had neither hollered nor

    protested, but had giggled along with it. Or so Wesley had said. Most of

    the others in his class claimed a similar experience, with varying

    degrees of willingness and submission among their conquests, and only

    Adam, two months Jass's senior, boasted, with considerable relish of

    whipping and raping a slave girl to achieve his end.

    Jass didn't want it to be like that either, Jass wanted his first time