Queen

appalling circumstances. Her passion spent, she slowly dissolved into

  tears, and folded into Easter's arms.

  Easter led her to the chair and sat her down.

  "There now," she said. "You sit here with your babies. I get you some

  broth."

  Lizzie nodded, still crying, and took Little Sally's hand, held it to her

  cheek, while Easter caressed her the while, and then left the room.

  Through all the days of her children's illness, it had never occurred to

  Lizzie that Easter was almost as sick as they.

  Halfway down the stairs, Easter felt faint, and leaned against the wall for

  support. It was only a fever, she told herself, it would pass. She was

  flushed and sweating, and a wave of nausea passed through her. She had to

  sit down on the stairs.

  She didn't know how long she sat there, but after a little while she felt

  better, and hauled herself to her feet. As she did so, there was a scream

  of distress from the nursery. Easter clutched the banisters and started to

  make her way back up.

  Sally came into the hall and tried to climb the stairs, but stumbled a

  little. Easter saw her and went to help.

  "Don't worry about me," Sally cried. "The babies!"

  But Lizzie appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying the dead Mary in her

  arms.

  "She's gone," she said simply, and stood there, not knowing what else to

  do.

  Easter ran up the stairs to the nursery. Sally struggled to follow, but

  before she was halfway up, Easter came back out to them.

  She shook her head. Lizzie sank to the floor, keening for her dead

  children.

  All the life-force seemed to drain from Sally, and she let out a great

  animal how].

  How could God be so cruel?

  They buried the two little girls in the family cemetery. It was a pretty

  spot, and peaceful, in a grove of trees, sheltered from the world. The

  slaves' graveyard was on a hill a few hundred yards away.

  QUEEN 495

  Cap'n Jack and Isaac had dug the graves the previous day, and the

  preacher came from town to bury the children. Lizzie was very brave and

  didn't cry. Dressed in her mourning black, she seemed to have found some

  unexpected reserves of strength in her grief, and held William's hand

  throughout the service. Mrs. Henderson cared for Eleanor and James,

  because Easter was sick in the weaving house, and Queen was picking

  cotton. William was distressed, but Lizzie was good with him, and told

  him that the babies were in a far happier place.

  When the service was finished, Sally stayed behind and watched Cap'n Jack

  fill in the graves. The sound of earth falling on the tiny coffins

  distressed her, and she wandered away to the grave of James, and wondered

  if he knew what straits they were in.

  "Why did you leave us so soon?" she whispered, and for a moment she

  understood all of Becky Perkins's longings to cast aside this mortal coil

  and lie in eternal bliss with the man she loved.

  It was a warm, gentle evening, and peaceful here, away from the

  tribulations of the world. The presence of her old friend comforted

  Sally's bleakness of soul. Cap'n Jack seemed to understand her mood. His

  work didn't take long, for the graves were small. He laid aside his

  shovel and sat near his old mistress.

  For a while, neither felt the need to speak, and then Sally voiced a

  little of what was in her mind.

  "So many dead," she said, looking about the graveyard. "So many that we

  loved."

  "We all got to die, Missy," Cap'n Jack said softly.

  Sally nodded. How long would she live, and what new tribulations were in

  store? But Jass was coming home, everything would be all right again, and

  her thoughts turned to happier times.

  Moved by the reliable presence of the man who was her friend, Sally took

  Cap'n Jack's hand. He was surprised, for whites very seldom touched their

  slaves, but understood her need.

  "We been together a long time," he said. "We seen some things."

  Sally nodded, and smiled. "You knew old Massa before I did," she

  remembered.

  496 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  They both thought of the past, when they were young. Cap'n Jack gave a

  wheezy chuckle.

  "R'member how we set him up? I tole you where he went ridin', an' you was

  there, nursing yo' chile, Miss Elizabeth, by yo' first late husband?"

  How could Sally forget? She remembered as if it were yesterday. She saw the

  river, and the tree she sat under with her tiny daughter. She could hear

  the horse's hooves again, as the handsome young Irishman galloped toward

  her. She saw herself opening her dress, ostensibly to feed little

  Elizabeth, but actually so that when James rode by he would see things men

  were not supposed to see, in those days.

  "Showing much more of myself than I should have," she laughed.

  "One took at yo' lovely bosom, an' he was gone, hook, line, and sinker!"

  Cap'n Jack was lost in the same memory.

  "And you saw the same thing because you were hiding behind a bush to make

  sure everything went well." Sally laughed again, and slapped Cap'n Jack

  lightly on the hand. "Oh, we had some times."

  "We surely did," the slave agreed. They sat together in the graveyard until

  it was dusk, and then Cap'n Jack helped Miss Sally home.

  When Lizzie got back to the house, she made sure the children were fed, sent

  William out to play, and put the young ones to bed. She did all this

  herself, with only occasional grumbling assistance and instruction from

  Poppy, because Queen and Easter were not there. The children's food wasn't

  very good because Lizzie had never cooked so much as a pan of water before,

  but the children didn't seem to mind. When Mrs. Henderson, who had

  accompanied her, protested that slaves should be doing the cooking, Lizzie

  told her, rather sharply, to mind her place. They were her children, and if

  Lizzie wanted to feed them herself, that was her business. Mrs. Henderson

  sniffed, said she knew where she wasn't wanted, and left with rather ruffled

  feathers. Lizzie was pleased with herself. She couldn't stand Mrs.

  Henderson, and this was the first time she'd voiced her true feelings.

  Later, alone in her room, Lizzie did something she hadn't

  QUEEN 497

  done in years. The death of the two children had been a cathartic

  experience for her. She had been distressed when tiny Jane had died, but

  she was only a few months old. These two had been different, because

  Lizzie loved them as little people, not as helpless babies.

  She knew she wasn't going to like what the mirror would tell her, but she

  had never shrunk from it before, and she was brave enough, and honest

  enough about herself, to face the consequences. In any case, she already

  knew what it would say.

  She had behaved badly since Jass left. She hated his going, and the war,

  and she had taken refuge from it by playing her accustomed role as

 
helpless mistress to the hilt. But having to cope, alone, with the death

  of the children had made her understand that their world had been turned

  upside down. She realized that, for the duration of the war at least, she

  might have to respond differently to things, because she now understood

  that even when Jass came home, the war was not going to be over, and it

  might all get worse before it got better.

  What surprised Lizzie was that she saw something to be proud of in the

  mirror. She saw that she could cope.

  "I shall pick cotton," she told Sally at dinner. Parson Dick, whose hands

  were raw and blistered, almost dropped the soup tureen. Sally stared at

  her daughter in astonishment, and William giggled.

  "Well, the cotton has to be picked, and we don't have enough hands,"

  Lizzie said defensively, although the only reaction, apart from

  William's, had been silence. "If it rains, the crop will be ruined."

  Parson Dick moved as quickly as good manners would allow to the kitchen,

  and told Queen, who was banging pots on the stove, to come and listen to

  this at the pantry door.

  "Do you think you're up to it?" Sally couldn't imagine Lizzie as a cotton

  picker.

  "I've no idea," Lizzie replied honestly. "I've never done it, I didn't

  think I would ever have to do it, and once this war is sorted out and

  things are back to normal, I don't intend to have to do it again."

  No one said anything, because no one realized she had finished.

  498 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  "But the harvest is in danger, and I am the mistress of this plantation."

  Lizzie couldn't bear silence. "If the men are ready to sacrifice their

  lives for our survival, the least I can do is risk a few blisters."

  "Bravo, Mamma," William applauded. "I'll pick cotton, too. "

  Queen and Parson Dick, huddled together at the pantry door, looked at one

  another in amazement.

  "Wonders ain't never going to cease," Queen said, and hurried away to

  prepare the main course, because Sally was ringing the bell.

  "I wish I could help," Sally said. "I feel so useless." She was impressed

  by Lizzie's resolution, and wondered what had wrought this change in her.

  "You're too old to pick cotton, Gran'ma," William laughed, and Sally gave

  him her best "old-fashioned" look.

  "I used to be good at it," she said, knowing it would shock the boy. "We

  had to turn our hands to all sorts of things, back in the early days."

  She looked at her openmouthed grandson, pleased with the effect, for

  truthfully, she had never picked cotton in her life. But she had done many

  things, and would have picked cotton if the need had arisen.

  "The days when I was young," she added, tartly.

  What she couldn't tell them, because she didn't know, was that it was

  backbreaking labor. Out there all day, in the baking sun, bent over those

  miserable damn bushes, the prickers; tearing your hands. Lizzie had dressed

  for the occasion in her oldest clothes and had a sunbonnet on, and at the

  beginning she had quite enjoyed herself, but she was not prepared for the

  searing pain that arced through her back every time she stood.

  Queen thoroughly approved of Lizzie's decision-they needed all the help

  they could get-but some of the field hands were not so sure. ,

  "Tain't fittin', the Missy pickin' cotton," Isaac grumbled. He had a strong

  sense of order.

  The day was sultry and overcast, with storm clouds billowing toward them.

  They labored on, a small band of convicts in a prison of white.

  QUEEN 499

  No matter how much she picked, it seemed to Lizzie that there was still as

  much as before. Finally, she couldn't stand it.

  " I can't! I can't do it anymore," she cried, and sat on the ground.

  William ran to his mother.

  "We got to, Miss Lizzie," Queen called to her. "We got to pick this field

  'fore it rains."

  "I'll help you, Mamma," William said, though his hands were bleeding and

  raw.

  Lizzie looked about at the endless cotton, and groaned. It wasn't fair; she

  wasn't bom to this, brought up to this. For the first time in her life, she

  blessed the existence of nigras.

  She looked at her eager son, and accepted his offer of help. She would

  complete the day because she had said she would, but that was enough, she

  would have done her bit, and she would never go near a cotton bush again.

  Leaning on William, she climbed to her feet, and bent her back to her hated

  task.

  Within the hour, Mrs. Henderson arrived, in high dudgeon. She had been

  enjoying a pleasant morning shouting at Jasmine, who cooked and cleaned for

  her, but the girl had eventually lost her temper. She told Mrs. Henderson

  that she should be out picking cotton, like the Missy, and then she'd know

  what it was like to be a slave.

  Mrs. Henderson had hardly believed her ears, and had boxed Jasmine's for

  telling lies, but the girl stuck to her story. So Mrs. Henderson put on her

  best bonnet, and came to see what it was all about.

  "What is this? Mrs. Jackson, what are you doing?" she cried in outraged

  distress, every fiber of her bourgeois, white Southern upbringing and

  aspirations insulted to the core.

  "Queen needed help," Lizzie said lamely, glad of the interruption.

  Mrs. Henderson was appalled. "So Queen is in charge now? Queen can order

  the mistress of the house into the fields, like some common nigger?"

  "It was Mamma's idea," William defended Queen, while she, worried about her

  mother, lost her temper and shouted at Mrs. Henderson.

  "Someone got to do it," she yelled. "Ain't enough of us niggers left! "

  500 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Mrs. Henderson turned to Queen, hating the uppity, bastard girl. Queen

  the adored, Queen the darling, Queen the treasure of the big house, whose

  very white-skinned existence flaunted her father's carnal baseness to the

  world, and was an affront to good Christian morality.

  "Don't you sass me! " She began calmly enough, but reason failed her. She

  exploded in fury, her pent-up animosity to Queen flooding to the surface.

  "Don't you ever sass me, or you will regret it to the end of your days."

  The sheer violence of it shocked Lizzie and William, although the slaves

  had heard worse, and had felt worse, for the lash of the whip was more

  painful than the lash of the tongue.

  Lizzie felt duty bound to excuse Queen, whom she didn't like, because it

  had been her idea.

  "I do need a break," she said, and Mrs. Henderson took charge. "You come

  with me, Mrs. Jackson, there's water over here." She led Lizzie to the

  water bag.

  "Five minutes," Queen yelled, defiantly.

  Lizzie was already gulping water like a dying man in a desert. William

  came running to her for his share, and it was he who saw the cart first.

  "Who's that?" he asked.

  Lizzie put down the water bag and stood panting at the fence. She

  squinted in the direction of William's pointing, to the main
gate, and

  saw a cart, with some men in it, stopped there.

  Someone in the cart helped another man down, and that man now come

  trudging up the drive.

  Mrs. Henderson saw the man, too.

  "Please God, let it be-" she whispered.

  But Lizzie knew who it was, and was running for all she was worth. Mrs.

  Henderson realized who it was too, and walked away, quietly, to be by

  herself and pray for her husband's welfare.

  "We ain't done yet-" Queen called to Lizzie, but Cap'n Jack stopped her.

  "It the Massa," he said quietly.

  It was Jass, home from the war. Lizzie, screaming at him, ran to him,

  pell-mell into his arms, and clung to him as if she would never let him

  go.

  QUEEN 501

  Sally had spent the day with Easter, in the weaving house. Easter was very

  ill, and when she had not come to the big house in the morning, Sally had

  gone to her. Sally could only guess at the problem, and feared it might

  be typhoid. It might as easily be diphtheria, caught from the children,

  or exhaustion, or measles, or any of a dozen fevers. Queen, who had less

  experience with illness, was worried, but relieved by Sally's presence,

  and, reluctantly, had gone to her place as mistress of the cotton fields.

  It was serious, Sally knew, for she was used to death, and could guess

  it was hovering by. She had made Easter as comfortable as her condition

  would allow, and wiped the sweat from her with cold compresses. For a

  while, Easter slept, but uneasily, and when she woke, Sally knew the end

  was near. Easter's eyes were yellow, her skin dull, and she was having

  difficulty breathing.

  Sally went to the door to call for help, and saw a little slave girl

  playing not far away.

  "You girl," she called, and remembered the child's name. "Tilly! You run

  fetch Queen, you hear? Her Mammy's sick. You run as fast as you can."

  Tilly was wide-eyed with fear. She knew the old lady with the white hair

  was the old Missy, but had never been spoken to by her before. But she

  was a well-mannered girl and did as she was told.

  "Run!" Sally cried.

  And Tilly ran.

  Queen stood in the cotton field, Cap'n Jack beside her, and watched the

  distant figure of Jass put his arm around his wife and son, and walk with

  them to the big house.

  He was home at last, and everything was going to be all right. He'd solve

  all their problems: She wouldn't have to work in the fields anymore and

  could spend her time nursing her sick mother, and Easter would get

  better, because Jass was home.

  She looked at the field. All the slaves had stopped work to watch the

  return of the Massa.

  "Still got to be picked," she called to them. They bent to

  502 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  their task, and a few of them started the work song again, for it was a

  sad homecoming, with the Massa's two little daughters buried.

  Queen worked hard and with a will. In an hour she could take a break and

  go see to her mother. Perhaps she wouldn't have to come back to the

  fields this afternoon; she'd ask Jass when he talked to her. He'd speak

  to her soon, she was sure, but it was only right and proper he should

  talk to his wife first.

  She was surprised to hear someone calling her name. She looked up and saw

  that sweet child, Tilly, running to her. Perhaps the Massa had sent for

  her.

  "Queen," Tilly called. "Come quick! Yo' mammy's sick!"

  There was nothing in Queen's mind now but her mammy. She had seen her

  that morning and knew she was not well, but Easter's true crisis had not

  developed until later, when Missy Sally had come to look after her so

  that Queen could work. If Missy Sally was saying she was sick, and no one

  else could have sent the message, then it was serious.

  She dropped her bag and ran, with lung-bursting energy, through the

  field. Flecks of cotton danced in the air, sparkling in the sunlight,

  like pure white gold, as she ran.

  Cap'n Jack ran too. But to the big house, to tell Jass.

  Grief flowed on grief for Jass, until he thought he must drown in an ocean

  of sorrow. Despite his bitterness at the brevity of his military career,