make you stay. -
She knew that they didn't understand why she was telling them what they
already knew.
"And so you are free," she said. "Free to do what you want, go where you
will."
The reaction surprised her, for there was none. She could hear the wind
rustling in the leafless branches of the trees, but she could not even hear
the slaves breathe. Then she became aware of another sound, close to her.
Queen standing two feet behind her, as if to reinforce her own position,
was crying.
"There is nowhere you can go, except,to the enemy, for in the South, if you
go and you are caught, you will be treated as runaways. And if you go to
the North, you will be enlisted into the army, to fight against us.
Possibly to die."
She was surrounded by bewilderment. Freedom had come, but somehow it seemed
empty. Jeremiah spoke for the many.
"What c'n we do, Missy?" he asked Sally.
"You can stay," she said. "I need you to work the land. I cannot pay you
anything, but I will share with you what we have. You will eat as we eat,
and live as we live. When the war is over and the Massa returns, when the
future is clearer, we may make other arrangements. For the moment, all I
can offer you is a safe place to be, a roof for your heads, and a bed to
sleep in."
She stopped. It was too hard; she couldn't do it. All her formidable
resources suddenly deserted her, and she wanted to break down and weep. It
had come to this: It was she who had to bring the whole house of cards
tumbling down. And it had been so easy. And yet it was too hard. Tears
filled her eyes. She could not bear that they might go, she feared too
genuinely for their welfare, and her own and her family's, but she could
not believe that they might stay.
QUEEN 529
"What you gwine do if'n we go?" Jeremiah asked her.
"I don't know," Sally told him honestly. "Pray for you. Pray for all of
us."
There was silence again, and the sound of shuffling feet. Jeremiah was
the spokesman, the leader. It rested on him. The weight of the decision
frustrated him. It had all seemed so easy. They would be free and they
would go and make new lives for themselves. But they were free, and where
could they go? Very few of them actually wanted to go North now. It was
alien land to them, enemy country, and filled with war and danger. Most
of them had been bom and grown up on this plantation; very few of them
had any concept of the world beyond it, and those who did, like Jeremiah,
had no affection for it. In the short days of his escape, he had never
been so hungry in his life. He could go, and make it to Union lines, and
even join the army, fight for freedom, but he had freedom, Missy Sally
had given it to him, so what was there to fight for'? Here was food, here
was shelter, here was what he knew. This was his place. It was so easy.
Everything else was too hard.
"An' if'n we stay, we free?" he asked, trying to establish his options.
"If you stay, you are free," Sally assured him.
Jeremiah shrugged.
"I reckon I gwine stay, fo' a Fil while, anyways," he told the others.
"This here the only home I got."
He walked away, and slowly the others followed. They talked about it
later, when Sally was gone, and most of them agreed with Jeremiah. They
would stay, for a little while anyway, because they had no other place
to go. What astonished them was that they felt no different, now that
they were free. It took some little while for them to comprehend the
majesty of what they had. And when they did, they had a party.
Sally stood in the clearing, watching the slaves shuffle away. She had
won; she had achieved what had to be done; she had ensured, for the moment
at least, the survival of her family, in some form or other. Later
decisions were for later. If, as the truth of their new situation dawned
on them, some few ran away, she would cope with that then. If, by some
miracle, the
530 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
South won the war, which Sally didn't believe was going to happen, the
institution of slavery would have to change, and they would face those
complications then. If, when Jass came home, he wanted to rescind her order,
that was his business and would be coped with then, but he could only do it
if there was a Southern victory. All Sally had done, she told herself, was
to accept the inevitable. At this moment, the whites needed the nigras to
survive, and, at this moment, survival was all she cared about.
She turned to Queen. Drained of all energy, she needed the girl's help to
walk back to the big house.
But Queen was not there.
Terrified by the prospects Sally had offered the slaves, for Queen had no
doubt she was included, she ran to her mother's grave, and knelt beside it.
"I's free, Mammy, I's free," she whispered.
And wondered why she was so very scared.
61
The war ground on, each day bringing them closer to a conclusion that even
the most sanguine Southerner began to accept as inevitable. They hardly
understood why they fought anymore. For every inch of ground they gained,
they seemed to lose two. But not to fight was unthinkable. A stand had been
taken and must be upheld. They no longer fought to win, they fought not to
lose, but every battle seemed to bring retreat, or, if it was won, news of
another loss elsewhere.
Jass could justifiably have applied for leave on many occasions, to go home
and spend some days with his family, but he chose not to. His life had
become war, and unfamiliar country places its battlegrounds. Edwards Depot
and Big Black Bridge. Fort Hudson and Champion Hills. Vicksburg. They
abandoned Mississippi, harried every inch of the way by the
QUEEN 531
avenging General Grant, and his regiment, or what was left of it, was sent
to Georgia. Every skirmish lost, every yard of ground surrendered, brought
Jass closer to home, until he thought he must stand and fight alone on the
very steps of The Forks of Cypress. Wounds had hardly healed before new
injuries claimed his attention, but he was impervious to them now, inured
to pain. He was as indifferent to the recognitions of his valor that were
bestowed upon him; his medals had no more meaning to him than his scars.
Honor was his only armor, and this he wore with immeasurable pride. He had
no fear of death, for it was a proper alternative to defeat, but it eluded
him and condemned him to face the greater loss, of country, and of cause.
When they told him that he must lose an arm, smashed up in a battle for
an indefensible mountain pass at Kennesaw, he had only two questions.
"Will I be discharged?" was the first.
The doctor shook his head. "Colonels don't need two arms," he said,
preparing for the operation. "But we need every man we can get."
Jass could face the rest of his life wit
hout an arm, for the odds were
that his life would not be long. He could not live with failure.
"Will it hurt?" he asked, as the doctor picked up a saw.
"Like thunder," the doctor told him, nodding at two orderlies to hold
Jass down. "And I have nothing to ease the pain."
Jass nodded and closed his eyes. He felt the firm grip of the orderlies,
and then a searing, screaming pain as the doctor began his work.
Florence fell again to the Yankees, and the citizens lived in fear of the
destruction that must come. Atlanta was gone, burned, burned to the
ground, not one brick of the proud and noble city left. Sweet Atlanta,
capital of Southern dreams, gone to ashes. Sherman was marching from there
to the sea, his army leaving a swath of desolation and destruction, of
barren land, in its wake. Any Southern victory, no matter how small, was
followed by a Yankee retribution many times greater than the provocation.
But Florence was not destroyed.
532 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Colonel William Hamilton of the U.S. Army was a gracious soldier, who
sought victory, not vengeance. He established his headquarters at the
Coffee plantation, and concerned himself for the welfare of his unwilling
hosts. He gave orders that the citizens were not to be molested, and came
to be known as "the good Yankee" for his charity.
He attended the funeral of Tom Kirkman, who had died, wom out from worry
and overwork and loss of faith in the future, and was gracious to
Elizabeth, the widow, and to Sally and Lizzie, who no longer cared if
solace wore blue or gray. Death was a constant in their lives. Tom, and
his son James, killed in battle, and his little granddaughter, Ellen,
Sam's child. Every woman in Florence wore black, not just to the funeral,
for every woman had reason to, and the most fervent prayer of all of them
was that the nightmare end soon.
Yet it was not to be. Already, a Confederate force under General Forrest
was moving upriver toward the town, which must become a battleground
again, and while they longed to be ruled by their own, they wanted the
war to be over.
Sally dared to ask Colonel Hamilton when he thought the end would come,
and he was kind but not gentle to her.
"When you give in," he smiled. "Or when we conquer you, for that will be
the inevitable result of your failure to surrender. Apart from those
already under arms, we are amassing an army of half a million men, and
you cannot withstand that. "
Sally turned away, appalled by the immensity of it, and by the bleakness
of their prospects. Hamilton was a reasonable man in victory. She could
not imagine every Yankee would be the same.
"The South cannot win, and the North will not lose," he continued. "What
should be of greater concern to all of us is what happens afterward."
That, at least, Sally could agree with, and thoughts of a postwar South
troubled her mind as they rode home. They would have no slaves, and while
she doubted that there would be a mass migration of blacks from South to
North, she understood that the relationship between the races would be
radically changed. It was already. Perhaps half her freed slaves had
QUEEN 533
stayed; the others had drifted away as opportunity presented itself, or
dreaming provoked. Some younger men had enlisted in the Union Army, and
two girls had become whores, camp followers of Northern troops. Those that
were left at The Forks were different people now, truculent if given
orders, lazy if they did not understand why something had to be done. They
worked for themselves rather than the general good, as if preparing for
the time when they would leave.
As the blacks became more self-reliant, less dependent on their former
Massas and Missys, so the whites withdrew into themselves, isolating
themselves, and the previous free discourse between the two races was at
a minimum. Sally had not been alone in her precipitate action of freeing
the slaves, and awful stories reached them of blacks taking vengeance on
their erstwhile Massas. Some houses had been burned to the ground before
the blacks escaped to the North, and, in one scandalous case, some bucks
had whipped their aging Massa. It foreshadowed the chaos that every white
believed would accompany black freedom, and even at The Forks the women
did not feel safe.
Jeremiah, who, to Sally's surprise, had stayed, was hardly with them
anymore, making himself invaluable to the Union troops, shoeing their
horses, hammering their iron, and receiving payment for his services. It
was only a matter of time before they lost him, Sally was sure.
Queen had stayed. Inevitably, Sally thought, and it was Queen who
concerned her now. In the coming postwar society of whites, there would
be no room for Queen, who was trying to insinuate herself more and more
into the family's embrace. There had been an altercation that morning,
when Lizzie had refused to allow Queen to attend Tom's funeral.
"But he family," Queen grumbled.
"Not your family," Lizzie snapped, thinking that was the end of it.
But it was not the end of it. Sally knew there was more to be done. It
would be hard and it would be cruel, but it was unavoidable.
Queen herself provided the opportunity. There was no tea or real coffee
because of the Northern blockade of Southern
534 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
ports, but they had developed a curious substitute out of ground-up hickory
acorns. Queen brought a cup of the brew to Sally in the sitting room. Lizzie
was upstairs, supervising William's schoolwork. Little James and Eleanor
were napping.
Sally sipped her drink, and Queen did not leave. She asked a few questions
about the funeral, still obviously irked that she had been barred from
attending, and then announced her news.
"Jeremiah gone," she said. "Jus' upped an' left. Didn't even say to tell
you good-bye."
Sally nodded, for it came as no surprise to her. She also knew that Queen
was reminding her of her own loyalty.
"Do we know where he has gone?" she asked Queen.
"Workin' for the Yankee army, I guess," Queen shrugged. "He jus' a
no-account nigger."
She went to the door, but Sally spoke before she left the room.
"And where will you go, Queen?" she said.
Queen stopped. Perhaps it was the moment she had been dreading.
"Now you are free, you must think about where you will go, and what you
will do," Sally continued.
Queen did not turn to look at her.
"I ain't going nowhere," she muttered. "I stay here and serve you. "
The tiny silence that followed was filled with volumes of unspoken emotion.
The inevitable confrontation had come, and Queen prayed with all her heart
that Sally would give her the answer she longed to hear, and refused to
consider that she would not.
"We have no place for you here," Sally said softly, and the words formed
ice in Queen's heart.
Still Queen did not look at her.
"But this is my home," she whispered.
She should have turned to Sally, for then she would have seen the tiny
tears that Sally now brusquely brushed away. There was another silence,
while Sally composed herself to the task at hand. It was not easy for her,
because she loved Queen. But nothing was easy for her these days, and it
had to be done. For both their sakes.
"The world as we know it has gone," Sally said, more
QUEEN 535
calmly than she felt. "And it can only get worse. We cannot feed the
family even now, and after the war I don't know what we will do."
Now Queen turned to her, ran to her, knelt at her feet. But it was too
late.
"I help you, Missy," she cried. "I cook and clean and garden. I do
everything!"
Sally took her sweet face in her hands. Oh, she loved Queen and did not
want her to go. But she could not let her stay.
"Child, we love you and have tried to do right by you," she said. "But
you are a nigra, and the times will be hard. Your best place will be with
your own people."
Queen was shaking her head, fighting Sally's grip, wanting her embrace.
"I ain't a nigra, I's white!" she screamed. "My pappy won't let you turn
me away!"
Sally used all her strength to hold the girl's face firm, and looked hard
into her eyes. She spoke with absolute resolve.
"You must never think of Colonel Jackson as your pappy," she commanded.
"You are a child of the plantation, like thousands upon thousands of
others. And that is all."
Queen could not believe the firmness of Sally's voice, or the coldness
in her eyes, or the truth of what she was hearing.
"No!" she screamed again. "I'll never leave. You are my people! -
She scrabbled to her feet, and ran to the door.
"You are my family!" she shouted angrily at Sally. She left the room,
slamming the door.
Alone, Sally found that her distress was battling a deep and rising anger.
They had been so stupid. There should never have been union. After an
alliance with the North to drive out the British, the Southern states
should have gone their own way, formed their confederacy then, all those
years ago, and none of these present disasters would have happened. Some
few, romantic, idealistic men had rammed through a panAmerican concept
with scant regard for the people it might affect the most. Like the
Indians, the nigras had never been seriously considered by the founding
fathers,-in their rush to white independence, the Northerners because they
had so few
536 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
of them, the South because they had no problem. But it was not possible,
and never had been, for slave states to imagine they could share
government with slave-free states. And like the Indians in the grab for
land, who was paying the price of this lack of foresight now but those
same nigras that everyone claimed they were fighting to protect? If the
South had gone its own way, become its own country eighty years ago, then
Queen's predicament would never have arisen. Oh, they had been so happy.
Why could not those damn Yankees leave them alone?
Queen had no such thoughts. Filled with an anger far more complex than
Sally's, and a hurt and a loneliness far-deeper, she ran from the house,
without any sense of purpose or direction. She might have run to the
graveyard and called her distress to her mammy, but it was not her mammy
she needed now, and not self-pity that possessed her, but rather a raging
anger at her dispossession. She ran to the deserted weaving house instead,
and fell on the bed where she had been conceived, weeping, and called out
her love for her pappy.
62
When peace came, in a gentle spring, it was not as a benediction but as
an anticlimax, coupled with relief and an absolute sense of desolation.
They hardly dared look at the ravaged country, for there was nothing. What