Queen (73 page)

    silent then, her eyes down, fiddling with her handkerchief. Jass forgave

    Lizzie in his mind, as he always did, for he knew she was on edge about

    the day, and worried about her unborn child. He rode beside the carriage

    and talked happily to the children, and occasionally to Queen, who looked

    up at him with adoring, grateful eyes.

    As they neared Florence, Jass began to regret his decision, for half the

    county seemed to have had the same idea. Carriages packed with

    countryfolk were descending on the town from all directions, and rough

    men on horseback calling and hallooing to each other as if in boisterous

    anticipation of a wild party. Yet this is what it is, thought Jass, and

    I cannot shield them from the experience forever.

    Isaac guided the horses carefully through the packed streets, and brought

    the carriage to a halt outside the bank, where Jass was to meet Tom

    Kirkman. The greatest crowd was gathered around the telegraph office, but

    throughout the town the fes-

    441

442 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

tive, volatile air prevailed. People were milling around, aimlessly,

excitedly, waiting for the news that might change their lives. Young men

roamed the streets publicly announcing the glory of an independent South

and the fate of the Yankees if Lincoln won, while older men on the

hustings urged those same young men to join militia units, in preparation

for the coming Armageddon, and other, more sober souls bewailed the

catastrophe of secession, and the glory of the Union.

    Queen found it all very ftightening, and Lizzie was appalled. She hadn't

    wanted to come, certainly hadn't wanted to bring the little ones, but

    Jass had business to do, and she hadn't wanted to stay alone at The Forks

    without his protection, on this day of days. She refused to leave the

    carriage, and resisted her older children's pleas to be allowed to walk

    for a while, until Jass interceded on their behalf.

    Mary looked at the paramilitary activity in wonder and a little fear.

"is there going to be a war, Papa?" she asked her father.

    "Of course not!" Jass was reassuring. "Why would Americans want to fight

    Americans?"

No one had an answer for that. Except Queen.

    "Perhaps because of slavery," Queen said, and made Lizzie angry.

    "Hush, girl," Lizzie snapped. "Speak when you're spoken to. "

    Queen looked down, and William jumped in. "It looks like war," he said.

    "It's all a lot of fuss and bother about nothing," Jass told them, with

    more conviction than he felt. Nor did he tell them why he was going to

    the bank. "Don't you worry your little heads about it."

    He gave them a little money and told them they could look in the shops

    for half an hour, but they must be careful, must never lose sight of

    Isaac and the carriage, and should not, under any circumstances, speak

    to strange men.

"Oh, Papa," William groaned. "Everyone knows us here."

    "Times have changed, and there are a lot of strange men in town." Lizzie

    told him. "Queen, you may keep them company and look after them."

They set off in high spirits, the three of them, William,

    QUEEN 443

Mary, and Queen, and excitedly nervous. Jass watched them for a moment,

reassured Lizzie as to their welfare, and went into the bank. Lizzie

stayed in the carriage with Poppy and the babies, and told Isaac to keep

his whip ready.

It was the best fun. Queen was a pretty girl, and even the roughest boys

made way for her as they passed by. Some whistled, which made William

giggle. They stopped to listen to a very loud man on a soapbox, exhorting

the brave to join his militia unit. He wore an old uniform that had seen

action against the Indians in the West, and he was attended by a couple

of younger men, in newer versions of the same uniform.

    They didn't really understand what he was shouting-it all seemed to be

    about blood and death and honor-and Queen thought the uniforms were ugly,

    but it aroused the older people listening, and they cheered and clapped

    everything he said.

    It was a chilly afternoon, and they were quickly bored, and moved away

    to find other amusements. Farther down the street, a minister was on

    another soapbox, proclaiming the glory of the indissoluble Union that was

    the United States, but only a small group was listening to him, a few

    cheering, most booing, and a fight broke out between some young men and

    one of the minister's supporters. Queen tried to shepherd her charges

    away, but William made a fuss because he wanted to see the fight. Queen

    told him she couldn't stand the sight of blood, and reluctantly William

    agreed. They moved away, but fifty yards down the street they heard a

    wolf whistle. They turned to see that the three young hooligans from the

    fight were following them. They were poor whites, crackers, but dressed

    in their Sunday best.

"Those rude boys!" Mary was angry. "How dare they!"

    William winked at Queen, stopped walking, and pretended to look into a

    shop window. "I think they like you, Queen," he said, for the fun of it

    all appealed to him. Queen wanted to be away, out of here, home where it

    was safe, as quickly as possible, but she had to attend William, and he

    seemed to be enjoying himself.

    They stared in a shop window, and within moments, they saw the

    reflections of the young men behind them. They

444 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

turned from the window and the young men tipped their hats. "Afternoon,

sweetheart, pretty day," the biggest and handsomest said to Queen.

    "We don't speak to strange men," Mary told them tartly, while William

    pretended to be doing nothing.

    "Oh, we're not strange," another laughed. "Just strangers. "

"And we'd like to be friends," his pal agreed.

    Mary could do a fair imitation of her mother as Southern belle when she

    wanted to. "Pay no attention to them," she told Queen.

    "Oh, don't be so heartless." The first young man played his game. He had

    no interest in Mary, who was too young, but if she was companion to that

    older, dark-haired, violeteyed darling, that was fine by him. "We've come

    to enlist for the war, and you might be the last young ladies we talk to

    in years. "

    "We might even die," another chimed in. "Defending your honor. "

    Although they included Mary in the fun, they were staring at Queen. It

    made her nervous, and she tried to hide behind Mary.

    "My papa says there isn't going to be a war," Mary insisted, and the boys

    laughed.

    "Then your papa doesn't know much," the third one, who was very spotty,

    said, and moved closer to Queen. "So how about it? One little kiss for

    a soldier on his way to defend your honor?"

    He grabbed the terrified Queen and gave a peck on the lips before she

    really knew what was happening.

    The boy grinned in triumph and his friends cheered. "There, that didn't

    hurt, did it?"

    It repelled Queen. She felt his hot breath on her face, stale with the

    smell of beer and unwashed teeth, saw spots of blood on his shirt, and

    knew it was the blood of the man the hooligans had beaten up. She felt

    the-power in his arms when he grabbed her, knew she would be helpless if

    he wanted any more from her. She knew he was white and she was a nigra.

    She turned to William for help, and he had enjoyed the sport, but now

    took command.

    QUEEN 445

    "I'm surprised at you," he told them. "How dare you kiss my slave girl!"

    The effect was startling and immediate, and was what William intended and

    Queen wanted. All sense of flirting deserted the young men, to be

    replaced by surly anger. For a moment, Queen thought they might hit her.

    The one who had kissed her spat violently, and wiped his mouth, Queen saw

    hatred in his eyes, hatred for her.

    "How was I to know?" He shouted his grievance to the world. "The bitch

    looks white."

    His friends were as angry. "Keep her off the streets; send her back to

    the cotton fields where she belongs," the first said, as they moved away.

    "Damned high yallas," the third called back. "Ought to be put down at

    birth."

    They were gone, still shouting abuse, and Queen shivered in relief. She

    was used to slights about her color and her blood, but she had no

    experience of men, and had never encountered anything like this before.

    She had seen for the first time what the other slaves talked of

    sometimes, this irrational urge of violence by white to black.

"Thank you, Massa Bill. I was scared," she said.

    William had been scared for a moment too, but was proud of the way he had

    coped, and continued his role as Massa.

    "Pay no attention, they're just poor white trash," he told Queen.

But someone else was crying.

    "I don't want a war," Mary sobbed, for the anger of the young men, and

    the violence behind it, were something she, like Queen, had never seen

    before. She longed to be back in the security of The Forks. "I hate

    soldiers."

At The Forks, all was calm and peaceful. Angel, who was almost as old as

Sally, climbed breathlessly up the stairs to wake her mistress from her

nap, for visitors were expected. Sally was asleep on top of her covers,

and woke to Angel's nudging. She drank her tea while Angel fixed her hair,

and prepared herself to receive. She heard the gig in the driveway, and

sighed, for she was not looking forward to her afternoon.

Henderson was wearing his best suit and had polished his

446 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

boots to a military shine, for he was seldom invited to the big house for

social purposes, and wanted to impress. His new wife, Letitia, wearing one

of the fine dresses she had brought with her from Charleston, stood beside

him, agog with anticipation at this sudden and unexpected leap in her

standing, and determined not to be overawed by her surroundings or her

husband's employers.

    But she could hardly- restrain a squeak of amazement as Parson Dick

    opened the door and they swept into the hall, grander than anything she

    had ever seen.

    "The Mistress is in the sitting room," Parson Dick said. He led the way,

    opened the double doors, and announced them. Sally, dressed in stem

    black, rose to greet them, and Letitia Henderson moved forward, took

    Sally's offered hand, and bobbed a tiny curtsy, which she immediately

    regretted.

Alec Henderson had not been immune to the talk of war, He had taken stock

of his life and had decided to put his domestic house in order. He had

advanced beyond his wildest imaginings. As he had predicted and intended,

he had assumed the function of overseer when Mitchell retired, and worked

hard and well in his new capacity. His was a tougher regime for the slaves

than the previous overseer's had been, but something of Mitchell's

attitude to the slaves had rubbed off on Henderson. He had been raised to

believe blacks were scum and less than animals, but Mitchell had persuaded

his able student that they were simply animals, valuable ones at that, and

responded better to reasonable treatment than to ruthlessness. The abuse

of his power, Mitchell told him, would simply lead to runaways and less

productivity. At first, Henderson had dismissed the arguments. Seething

with resentment toward his martinet father and the way he had been treated

as a boy, he tended to vent his frustrations with his own life on those

less fortunate than he, the niggers. Mitchell had seen this and had spent

long hours with the young man, and become something of a surrogate father

to him. By example and patient instruction, Mitchell had calmed

Henderson's rash temper and persuaded him that the proof of true power was

in how little you needed to prove it. Whites were the natural masters of

niggers, and they knew that and accepted it. Any brute fool could have

    QUEEN 447

a nigger whipped for. any small justification, but what did you do if the

justification became greater? Have them whipped some more? Flog them till

they were dead? Dead they were useless, and alive they were valuable

livestock.

    Henderson had never appreciated that slaves had actual and considerable

    monetary value before, and while Mitchell never changed the young man's

    basic attitude to blacks, his financial arguments had a profound effect.

    For Henderson worshiped money, and was determined to have his share. He

    knew he would never be rich in the way Massa Jackson was rich, but if he

    did his job well, and saved carefully, he could look forward to the day

    when he would have a small farm of his own, and several slaves, and live

    in comfort and security for the rest of his life. It was all coming to

    pass as he had hoped. For ten years he had been overseer, living in the

    cottage provided for him, cooked for by a Jackson slave with provisions

    acquired from the big house kitchen, and had been able to save most of

    his wages. Once a year he gave himself a treat, a week's holiday by the

    sea at Charleston, and during that week he allowed himself a couple of

    visits to whores, but otherwise he lived a spartan existence and now had

    a reasonable stash of gold, which he kept in a strongbox under the

    floorboards of his cottage. He was not wealthy by any means, but he was

    better off than many of his unlanded peers. He was tough and aggressive

    with the niggers, and demanded hard work from them, but although he used

    the whip occasionally, he controlled his urge to flog them on any prov-

    ocation, and things at The Forks were running smoothly, if not as

    moderately as once they had.

    Success and security had mellowed him, and for a couple of years he had

    been thinking it was time to find himself a bride, but he couldn't work

    out where he might meet one. His position gave him occasional access to

    women of his new class, but he had no social skills with them, and was

    happiest in the company of other men. He wouldn't touch mulattas and

    despised white trash, for he had grown up in their company and they

    reminded him too much of his disadvantaged youth.

    Talk of war had given an urgency to his intentions for matrimony. If

    there was a war he would fight, for the idea of free niggers was

    viscerally repugnant to him. He had come to re-

    448 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

spect the skills of many of the slaves under his command, and guessed that

some few of them would cope with the unthinkable, with freedom; some might

even be -good farmers, and that made a mockery of his dear dead mother,

and of the way she had worked herself to the grave, and died poorer when

she left this world than when she came into it. But if there was a war and

he had to fight, he would be away from The Forks. He doubted he would lose

his job-the Massa could hardly dismiss him for defending the Massa's

existence-but his cottage would be empty or, worse, occupied by some tem-

porary overseer, and his store of gold left to the mercy of looters. He

could not carry the precious metal with him, and he had no faith in banks.

    A dutiful wife would solve the problem by remaining in residence and

    protecting his interests while he was away. The right wife would increase

    his standing in the local community. A good wife would look after him,

    provide him with a bed partner, and give him a son, whom he could teach

    to be as good a man as himself,.and who would inherit all that Henderson

    was single-mindedly working for. Without an heir, his good fortune was

    meaningless, since he had no intention of leaving anything to his

    wretched brothers and sisters.

    But where to find such a wife? Happily, the same possibility of war that

    had accentuated his problem also solved it for him. After harvest he had

    gone to Charleston for his annual leave and, bored with taverns and

    whores, had attended a meeting of militant Southern loyalists in a church

    hall. South Carolina was already threatening secession from the Union if

    Lincoln won the election, and the debate was firebrand stuff of white

    supremacy and Yankee knavery, and of the joy and prosperity that must

    dwell in every Southern heart if the slave states were forced to break

    away from the North. In Henderson's case, as with most of those present,

    it was preaching to the converted, but it stirred his blood anew, and he

    decided on a visit to the whorehouse afterward. He never got there. When

    the speeches were done, refreshments were served by the women of the

    Church Ladies' Union, and Henderson's eye had been taken by the lovely

    Letitia.

    Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but perhaps only Alec Henderson

    could have thought Letitia Palmer lovely. Most

    QUEEN 449

would have called her plain, but she was everything he was looking for in

a wife. Moderately educated and obviously able, Letitia had a commanding

personality and was always on the lookout for a spouse, for she was

terrified that her prospects of a husband were close to nothing. Oldest

daughter of a drunken father who held on to his job as manager of a lumber

store by his fingernails and the fact that he was white, and of a

hardworking mother who ran a moderately successful millinery shop, Letitia

had nursed and raised her siblings, cooked and cleaned for all the family,

coped with her sottish father when her mother could not, and spent her

free time stitching in the hat shop. Now her younger brothers and sisters

were old enough to fend for themselves, and she, with time for herself at

last, found that she had missed the carefree boat of youth, and was in

sharp danger of being left stranded on the lonely island of spinsterhood.

    Because of her mother's hat-making business, she had teamed to conduct

    herself properly on the shopgirl rung of society, but no one had ever

    taught her how to enjoy herself. She had no idea where to find a husband

    and put her trust in God to provide a solution. A devout woman, she

    joined the Social Club of her local church, but she was so used to or-

    ganizing her wayward family she overzealously organized everyone else,

    and was not popular. To compensate for this, she made herself