thinking their separate thoughts. Queen seldom voiced hers, because it
was not her place, but told her feelings to her good friend God.
"If the war doesn't last very long, I won't be old enough
454 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
to fight," William lamented softly. "So where shall I find adventures? I
suppose I could become a missionary or something-"
He was lulled to sleep by the balmy breezes of tropical islands, and the
image of himself saving Harriet from some niggers who were cooking her in
a big pot.
Queen could not go to sleep so easily that night. She didn't mind William's
jibes about her matrimonial prospects, she was used to being called "an
itty-bitty slave girl" because she was tiny and a slave, but she knew a
handsome prince was waiting for her somewhere in the world, and not very far
away. This night, she had other things to think about. Like many of the
slaves, she knew that events of some importance to her life were in train,
but she could not fully appreciate what they were, because she heard only
one side of them.
The slaves in the kitchen talked about war, and even though they had no
experience of it-what they knew was learned from other, older, field slaves
who might have served with their Massas in the Mexican War-the stories
didn't seem to fit with William's idea of one big battle a long way away.
Mexico was a long way away-Queen wasn't exactly sure where it was-but she
knew there'd been more than one big battle. Her gran'pappy had stories of
war, too, and someone called Massa Andrew fighting the Injuns and the
British, and those wars seemed to last a long time, and lots of people got
hurt. She had heard Miss Sally and Julie making all sorts of plans for
extra provisions to be put in the cellar, "just in case," but if William
was right, then just in case of what? If the fight happened a long way
away, why were they stocking up with food here at The Forks? Was the fight
going to be near here? The idea of war and battles close to the big house
really scared her, especially if the soldiers were like the boys who had
accosted her that afternoon.
God's role in a possible war confused her most of all. She loved God as the
Massa and Miss Lizzie and her mammy and gran'pappy and Miss Sally and
everyone told her she should, but if God was on the side of the South, did
that mean He wanted Queen to be a slave for all her life? Whenever she
asked anyone questions about God and some of the confusing
QUEEN 455
things He did, they all told her He moved in mysterious ways, and
obviously that was true. She tried to imagine what God looked like, and
saw an image of a big, cross old man with a long white beard, and
thunderbolts in his hand, but that wasn't very comforting, and she was
taught that God was love. The greatest love she could think of was for her
pappy, and so she drifted to sleep dreaming she was tying in the Massa's
arms, safe in the love of God.
Sally could not sleep. The news of Lincoln's election to the presidency
had come as something of an anticlimax to her. Like a gathering storm, it
had been on the horizon for months, sweeping toward them with increasing
and inexorable certainty, but now that it had happened and had not plunged
them immediately into war, it was something of a relief. Not that the
danger was past, but Buchanan was still in the White House, it would be
four months until Lincoln actually took office, and perhaps, in that time,
sanity could prevail. She guessed that some states, at least, would go
through the initial processes of secession. South Carolina had called a
state convention to begin the process even before the election results
were known, but South Carolina had threatened withdrawal from the Union
before, and had always backed down. And no one, surely, wanted war, no one
wanted the dismemberment of the country. Sally knew very few people who
actually advocated disunion, but all those same people believed that if
push came to shove, the Southern states could go it alone. The problem was
that they might not be allowed to, for Lincoln seemed to care less about
the freeing of slaves than he did for the maintenance of the federation.
And what was so important about emancipation? Why were the wretched
abolitionists so strident in their views? Why had the Yankees been
foolish enough to elect Lincoln? Confusion set in, for she knew in her
heart that it was not just the Yankees who had voted for Lincoln; many
Southerners must have done so, if only out of fear of the consequences
of secession. Briefly she cursed all men, vain creatures who insisted on
imposing their views on others. Finally, she realized that what she
wanted was for the South to be left alone, to go about its business, and
if that meant a confederation of Southern states,
456 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
then perhaps it was the best solution. There was no need for war. Please,
God, don't let there be war. Yet she wept, for she had loved her nation all
her life; she had been proud to be a citizen of the United States. For
eighty years that blessed country had thriven and prospered, and that it
should all end now, over an issue that was irrelevant to the general welfare
of the majority of the people, was untenable to her. Why should slavery
bother the North when they did not have it?
It would be a bleak Christmas, she thought, and practicality salvaged her
from despair. There was so much to do, so many presents still to buy-they
hadn't even begun to plan the menus yet-and she took refuge from the
depressing affairs of the day in lists of provisions and gifts.
Realistically, she knew that her lists would have to be longer than those
usual for Christmas, since they had to be prepared for the worst. Already,
with Parson Dick and Julie, she had made sure the cellar was well stocked,
but she would have to lay in more blankets and sheets, and check with Jass
that the bams were full. Like sheep jumping fences, the lists lulled her,
and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Lizzie had been feeling chills of fear since that afternoon, when the wild
atmosphere in town had disturbed her, and the chaos that surrounded the
announcement of the election results had terrified her. Lizzie had never
seen such violent emotions on display before, and if this was what the
prospect of war could unleash, she dreaded to imagine the unknown horrors
that the fact of war must bring.
Lizzie was essentially secure and happy in her life, and, like Jass, she
loathed change. Jass had proved to be a good and undemanding husband.
Lizzie's more dominant personality amused him, perhaps because he had a
refuge from it, and he indulged most of her foibles. He asserted his
conjugal rights from time to time, but because he was temperate in his de-
mands, Lizzie was happy to accommodate him. She hated the pain of
childbirth and its attendant illnesses, and wondered if the illnesses were
not brought on by fea
r of the pain, but it was her duty to provide Jass
with children, and so she bore them with fortitude. She had been desolate
when tiny Jane died, so soon after childbirth, and she prayed that her new
QUEEN 457
baby would be strong and healthy, a boy, she hoped, in case anything awful
should happen to William. Like war.
Sally looked after most of the domestic issues, leaving Lizzie free to
socialize and entertain, and while the two would never be close, they had
become friends. Lizzie could shop and party, and never have to worry about
the dinner menus unless she chose to, and then Sally always deferred to
her. She could fret and fuss over the children, or Becky, and Sally would
always be there to offer advice and a grandmotherly shoulder for the
children, or Becky, to cry on. Lizzie could pamper and spoil Jass, when he
allowed her to, or ride around the estate in the company of the politicians
and business associates who called with increasing frequency because of the
political crisis, or because of their genuine fondness for Jass and his
increasing interest in the affairs of their state, and some of them,
perhaps, because Lizzie was such good fun.
She had learned to tolerate Queen, who was meek and demure to her, which
flattered Lizzie, and she enjoyed the sense of power it gave her over
Easter's brat. She had even learned to tolerate Jass's continuing
relationship with Easter, because it was discreetly conducted, and relieved
Lizzie of at least some of her duties in the bedroom.
Now she believed this almost flawless life was under threat, and she was
frightened. It was no use looking to Jass for comfort; he only laughed and
said they might all be better off if Alabama did secede. He was almost
enjoying himself, Lizzie thought, and had spent much of dinner gossiping
about the new overseer's wife, whom Lizzie was sorry she hadn't met,
because she sounded dreadful. Whenever she or Sally had tried to talk about
the ramifications of Lincoln's election, Jass had been patronizing, and
told them not to bother their pretty little heads about it. That had made
them cross, but he was so dearand jolly, the meal had passed pleasantly
enough.
The evening had been different. Sally had retired early as she often did.
She had a little sitting area in her room, and she liked to go there and be
alone, and write her diary. Jass and Lizzie had sat together, as they
always did, but he had his head stuck in a book. Lizzie did some petit
point, and all her fears for the future had simmered through her again, but
Jass had been no comfort.
458 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
She wanted to be alone with him, not alone as they were here, but upstairs,
in bed, drifting to sleep in his safe embrace. She put down her needlework.
"I think I'll go to bed," she said, and kissed him, hoping he'd get the
hint.
He looked up from his book. "Sleep well, my love," he said.
So that was it. He was going to her. She didn't want him to go, not
tonight. How could he be so thoughtless?
"Will you be long?" She could hardly express her need more plainly.
"Oh-a while," he responded. "I have some things to do."
For an instant, she hated him. She could well imagine what it was he
planned to do. But she needed him, or his reassurance.
"Is there going to be a war?" Her voice had a tiny quaver in it, like a
lost little girl.
Jass heard the cry for help, and closed his book.
"I'm sure not, my dear,," he said calmly, kindly. "I'm sure it's just
talk."
She almost believed him, and felt foolish for being scared. He was always
so reasonable, and knew so much more about what was going on than she, who
wafted on the vagaries of any fashionable wind.
"It's so scary, war," she said. She looked at him longingly, hoping he
would change his mind, and left the room.
Jass put down his book, and sat in silence. Lizzie was right, it was so
scary, war. Yet exciting, too, for the talk of it, the rumor of it, the
prospect of it, made Jass feel as if he had just wakened from a deep and
lengthy sleep.
For fifteen years, he felt, he had done nothing except live a prosperous,
pleasant, unambitious life. For fifteen years, he had been Massa of this
plantation, yet he had allowed others the control of it. Tom Kirkman and
Sally between them managed most of the business affairs, largely because
Jass did not really understand the complexities, and had no real urge to
learn. He knew that his patrimony had decreased in that time, because while
Tom was a conscientious and able bookkeeper, both of them erred on the side
of caution, as if neither was
QUEEN 459
prepared to put the great inheritance at risk. Yet by not taking risks,
by swimming with the tide, by having no vision, he had wound up with an
estate worth today perhaps half what it had been when James died. Jass had
always believed himself to be a simple caretaker of the family fortune,
but now he saw that he hadn't taken care of it very well. There had never
seemed much point. He'd never be able to do what his father had done,
create an empire, and to grasp at something when you didn't believe you
could achieve it was a waste of time. He had no real interest in politics,
as his father had had, no interest in the wheeling and dealing and
political chicanery that were necessary to an illustrious public career,
no real interest in anything other than trying to be a good husband and
father.
He wondered where his dreams of youth had gone. He no longer felt the
urge to settle on the frontier, or cross the Rockies, or see California.
It might have been different if he'd gone with Wesley to Texas, all those
years ago, and left the inheritance to one of his brothers, but his sense
of honor and responsibility would not have allowed him to do that. He
wondered what it would have been like if A.J. had lived and become Massa,
and Jass had been free to follow his own star, but he wasn't sure what
his star was.
Even in the trivia of life he had failed to be his father's son. James
had been one of the most renowned breeders of Thoroughbred horses in the
country. Jass had a few fighting cocks, which didn't do very well in the
pit.
For fifteen years, then, he had jogged along with no sense of direction,
and the estate had dwindled around him. Now Fortune had matched him to
his time, and he stood on the brink of his adventure.
Secession by at least some of the Southern states would happen. Jass was
sure of that. And since those states couldn't survive on their own, they
would band together in some way, and a new golden age of prosperity lay
before them. Free of the constraints of Washington, of federal
regulations and tariffs, free of the debilitating need to defend and
fight for their right to own slaves, this new confederation of Southern
states
could form its own alliances and trading patterns and partners,
and the resulting wealth would no longer have to subsidize
460 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
the impecunious Northern industries and the increasing bureaucracy of the
federal government. The many visitors to The Forks over the last few months
had persuaded Jass, if only because of the residual influence of his
father's name, that he could be a voice in this New Jerusalem, and Jass had
been flattered and motivated, and had agreed. The Southern states would be
free at last to become masters of their own destiny, and he would be part of
it.
If the North let them. Few of Jass's friends wanted war; they wanted to be
left alone, to get on with their own business, and if that meant leaving
the Union, so be it. But the North, that is, the federal government, that
is, Lincoln, had sworn they would not, could not, leave. The Union would be
preserved, no matter what.
Well, some of them were going to leave-it was as certain as night follows
day-and then Lincoln could either back down or go to war. From all he had
heard, Jass did not believe that Lincoln would back down, and the idea of
war between Americans was not new. Bloody war, civil war, had existed in
Kansas for almost all of the decade. Settlers from the North were
determined the territory should be admitted to the Union as a Free State,
and others from the South had been as determined on an opposite outcome.
Jass no longer cared if slavery was right or wrong for others; it was right
for them, for the South. He had seen the figures for the plantation, and
knew that the Jackson fortune would dwindle even further, might diminish
entirely, without slaves, and this was true for most of his peers. It
didn't matter to him that slaveholders were a minority of the Southern
population: Slave owning was the Southern way, the basis of the Southern
economy; it kept the few wealthy, so that prosperity would trickle down to
the many. Without slavery, the South could not exist.
Nor could he bear the thought that his own niggers, whom he believed he
cared for and protected, should end up as homeless beggars in city slums,
as he had seen in the North. He had no desire to increase the realm of the
South; if the new states and territories wanted to be free of slavery, then
let them join a free-state Union, which is what he believed Washington now
represented.
QUEEN 461
For there was no real union between the North and South, and never had
been. Eighty years ago, a group of sovereign teff itories had joined
together in a common cause, and once the British were defeated they had
little in common. All the arguments and treaties for union were a waste
of time, because disunion was inevitable. The Missouri Compromise, Henry
Clay's Compromise of 1850, the Fugitive Slave Act, and so many others
were all attempts to paper over an essential gulf.
"A house divided against itself cannot stand," Lincoln had said, and Jass
agreed with him. And since the house was divided, then let it fall into
its separate parts. His fervent prayer now was that the North would not
interfere with the Southern ambitions, but if they did, if there was war,
the South would fight to protect its own, and Jass would fight to protect
what was rightfully, morally, his. And they would win.
Lizzie had been wrong about his plans for this evening. He would go to
see Easter, but later. First he had other, more important things to do.
He went to his study, opened the safe, and took out the two small boxes
Tom had given him at the bank. Each was filled with a thousand gold
coins, British sovereigns. Jass went down to the cellar and buried one
of the boxes in a small hole that he had prepared the previous day, under
the duckboards, so that it would be unseen.
He took the other box, a lamp, and a small shovel, and went out into the