Page 54 of Queen

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

  indispensable, and now any social function connected with the church saw

  Letitia in command.

  Thus she met a clean and sober young man from Alabama, and on discovering

  that he was unmarried, had prospects, and was looking for a wife, Letitia

  almost wept her thanks to the good Lord for showing her the way out of

  her valley of despair.

  "Some more tea, Mrs. Henderson?" Sally asked politely.

  The grace and elegance of the Jackson mansion, and the simple unforced

  authority that Sally possessed by right of rank, breeding, and money, had

  made the new Mrs. Henderson speechless with awe and envy for the first

  few moments of their visit, but she had quickly recovered, determined not

  to let her husband down, and equally determined not to let this rich old

  biddy get the better of her.

  450 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  "I think not, Mrs. Jackson," she responded in her plummiest tones,

  learned in the millinery shop. "I believe I have had an elegant

  sufficiency."

  There was a tiny pause while Sally prayed that Jass and Lizzie would come

  home soon and save her from this dreadful creature, but she was gracious.

  "Cake?" she inquired, when she could think of nothing else to say.

  There was a commotion outside, and the sound of horses, and Sally could

  hardly hide her relief.

  "I think that's the Massa now," she said.

  Jass, carrying two small boxes with him, was in curiously high spirits,

  given the momentous news that they had learned in Florence. Lizzie was

  weeping at that same news, Mary was weeping because she'd told her mother

  of the incident with the three boys, and William and Queen had been

  severely scolded, and were pretending to sulk.

  Isaac and Polly helped Lizzie and Mary from the coach, and Poppy with the

  youngsters, while Queen and William scampered after Jass.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are waiting, sir," Parson Dick told him.

  "Oh, damn," Jass responded. I'd forgotten-"

  Lizzie was already on her way upstairs with Mary, giving orders to Poppy

  about baths for the youngsters, and telling William and Queen it was time

  for their supper. Jass knew he was on his own.

  He went to his study, locked the small boxes in his safe, and strode into

  the sitting room.

  "Sorry, the time slipped away," he announced, kissed his mother, and

  looked at the overdressed, over made-up, overeager woman sitting

  expectantly on the edge of the sofa.

  "Is this your bride, Alec?" He shook hands with Henderson. "You're a sly

  one, keeping such a pretty woman secret."

  Mrs. Henderson was his loyal servant from that moment, and simpered,

  while Sally did her best to hide her amusement.

  "Happened so fast, sir, on my leave," Henderson began, but his wife was

  way ahead of him.

  "Took one look at him and I said to myself, Letitia, I said, that's the

  man for you," she gushed.

  QUEEN 451

  Queen and William had hung back from Lizzie's commands and had their ears

  to the keyhole of the sitting-room doors. Parson Dick saw a perfect

  target, two round little rumps stuck in the air, smacked them both lightly

  and ordered them upstairs, where their supper was waiting.

  "Young ladies and gentlemen do not listen at closed doors," he commanded.

  They yelled at his gentle smacks, and giggled their way upstairs.

  When they were gone, satisfied that the coast was clear, Parson Dick

  leaned down toward the same keyhole.

  "My dear mother's heart is broken, of course, that I'm living so far away

  from home, and my poor father"-Mrs. Henderson took out a handkerchief and

  dabbed her eyes--all this talk of war, and me getting wed, his only

  comfort is the gin."

  Jass did not dare look at Sally, but knew he had to give them the news.

  "Then I'm afraid he's going to need rather a lot of comfort," he said

  with a poker face. "Abraham Lincoln has been elected president."

  He remembered his promise to tell Becky, but saw no sense in disturbing

  her evening. He would send Ephraim first thing in the morning.

  53

  said to myself, Letitia, I said, that's the man for you!" William

  giggled, in fair imitation of Mrs. Henderson's affected tones. "Isn't

  she awful? Why did he marry her?"

  He was already in his nightshirt, and Queen was folding his clothes, as

  she always did.

  "I think he's worse than she is," Queen said. She didn't have much to do

  with the overseer, but whenever they met he was sarcastic to her, and to

  her mother.

  "Perhaps they were made for each other." William was

  452 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  bored with the subject and sat on the window seat. He was in a curious

  mood. The events of the afternoon ha
d excited him. He'd seen plenty of

  fights at school, had taken part in several, but had never seen adults

  beating anyone up before, apart from when one of the slaves got whipped,

  and that didn't count. The short, sharp, ruffian violence of it had

  exhilarated him and he had felt like cock of the walk, a few minutes

  later, at his ability to cope with the hooligans. The talk of war, the

  pounding hysteria when news of Lincoln's election spread like wildfire

  from the telegraph office, and the fun of Alec Henderson's matrimony had

  invoked some new, exciting emotions in him, which somehow all had to do

  with girls. They were on the brink of stirring times just as he was edging

  into manhood, and he longed to be older and part of it all.

  He wondered if he was old enough to have a proper girlfriend, not like

  Harriet Peters whom he escorted to Sunday school. Ten years old, she

  sometimes allowed him to hold her hand, and once, sweating with

  embarrassment, he had pecked her on the lips, but she screamed, and

  slapped his face, and told him never to touch her again. Of course, she

  hadn't meant it, and sat next to him at Sunday school the next week, and

  shyly held his hand.

  "I hope there is a war," he said, staring out at the moonlit, winter

  landscape. "It would be such fun." He had an adventurous soul, and found

  much of his life at The Forks boring. Lizzie was trying to mold him to

  be a Southern gentleman in the way that Becky had molded Lizzie to be a

  Southern belle, and William resisted it strongly, He was his father's

  son, and, like Jass when he was young, he wanted adventure, he wanted to

  be a pioneer, like Gran'ma Sally, only there weren't many frontiers left.

  The South Seas, perhaps, or Australia.

  Queen was also thinking of the afternoon, but had a different view. "I

  don't think I'd like war," she said. "It might be dangerous. "

  "Oh, pooh," William laughed. "You wouldn't know very much about it. The

  men would all go off somewhere a long way away, and have a big fight,

  that's all. We'd beat the Yankees, they'd beg for mercy, and then it

  would be over."

  "What if the Yankees won?" Queen wasn't convinced it would be so simple.

  QUEEN 453

  "That isn't possible," William said seriously, "because they'd try to

  free the slaves and God doesn't want that. God's on our side."

  Queen didn't say anything, because there was no point in arguing with

  Massas about slaves, but turned down William's comforter, and made the

  bed cozy with the warming pan.

  William's thoughts turned from war to love again, to Letitia Henderson

  and Harriet Peters.

  "I wonder what it's like to be in love?" That surprised Queen, because

  her mind was still with a possible war. She allowed herself to dream.

  "I'm going to marry a prince on a white horse one day," she said, but

  William laughed.

  "Oh, Queen, don't be silly. You're just an itty-bitty slave girl,"

  William told her, kneeling beside the bed. "Who'd marry you?"

  Queen knelt beside him and said something privately, to God: "Someone

  will, one day."

  William had begun the formal prayers, of lying down to sleep, and souls

  being kept. His soul, and his family's, and even the soul of Harriet

  Peters. Not Queen's soul, of course, because nigras didn't have souls.

  His papa had told him that, years ago.

  "And please let's have a jolly fine war that lasts a long time," he ended

  up, but wondered if God would approve of his prayer, so he added a little

  charity. "But only let Yankees get killed."

  In case that wasn't enough, he added a little more. "And send someone

  nice for Queen."

  "Amen," both prayed, and laughed.

  William climbed into the big four-poster with its warmed sheets and cozy

  blankets, while Queen snuggled into the uncomfortable pallet at the foot

  of the bed.

  "Good night, Queen," William said affectionately, for they were friends.

  "Good night, Massa Bill," Queen said to her brother. They lay in silence,