Page 66 of Queen

eyes failing, was struggling to sew a patch on young James's pants.

  William and Eleanor lived in Florence these days, with their aunt

  Elizabeth. It made it easier for them to go to school, for the road was

  too dangerous to travel every day. They couldn't afford a tutor these

  days, and anyway there were none to be had. They could

  QUEEN 545

  hardly afford the school fees. Now James had also gone to stay with

  Elizabeth, to be with his brother and sister, and to prepare for school.

  Life on the deserted plantation was no place for a growing boy.

  Jass must come home soon, Sally thought. They couldn't manage much

  longer. She had avoided digging up the small store of gold that Jass had

  buried at the beginning of the war, until there was no possible

  alternative. It had lasted surprisingly well because she doled it out as

  scrupulously as any miser, but it had gone six months ago, and then she

  had dug up the box in the cellar, and slowly but surely that nest egg was

  diminishing, and she was nervous of exhausting it. She thought of selling

  a few acres of land, but the price was rock bottom, thousands upon

  thousands of acres of prime Southern farming land were on the market, and

  there were very few buyers. Besides, it was not her land to sell. It

  belonged to Jass. She couldn't understand why they had not heard from

  him. The wretched Henderson had made it back, all the way from Virginia,

  and Jass had been stationed in nearby Georgia when she last heard from

  him. But for several weeks there had been nothing, not a letter, not a

  message, not a word. They weren't even sure he was still alive, but no

  death notice had been delivered, and they could only assume that he was.

  If only he would come home. If nothing else, he would solve the problem

  of Queen.

  Since the time that she had first raised the subject, Sally had never

  again suggested that Queen leave; she thought the point had been well

  made. Nor did she want her to go until the war was over and they could

  start putting their lives back in order. Until Jass came home, they could

  not manage without Queen, but when he came home they would not need her.

  Oh, perhaps for a little while, until they found someone else, or until

  one of the slaves came back. Sally, like many others, believed it was

  only a matter of time before several of the ex-slaves realized that life

  in a known environment was infinitely preferable to life in an alien and

  cruel world. She seldom went into town anymore-the road was too

  dangerous-but they had visitors from time to time, and already she had

  heard the horror stories of the way blacks were behaving in this new

  South, and even worse stories of how some of them were being

  546 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  treated. Looking for a scapegoat for their defeat, many of the returning

  veterans were venting their fury on blacks, in dead of night, and all the

  efforts of the policing Federal forces could not control them. And many

  of the blacks were vilely abusing their newfound status, treating any

  white with disdain or impudence, reveling in an orgy of excessive behavior

  and frequently abusing their former Massas and Missys, while the bodies

  of those last slain in war were not yet cold in the ground. It was

  inevitable, Sally thought. Like children in a candy store, they were

  starting to indulge what could be formidable and dangerous power. She

  feared for their potential and worried for their safety, and it didn't

  matter that many of the stories she heard were untrue or greatly

  exaggerated; she had no yardstick to judge the reality of the situation.

  Jass would know, Jass would explain everything to her, Jass would-

  Yet we must not expect too much of him, she told herself. He will be as

  lost as we are. But he is a man, and he will know how to cope. If only

  he would come home.

  For Lizzie, especially, the lack of him was unbearable, and yet it had to

  be borne. She had survived the war with as much grace as she could muster,

  which wasn't a lot, but now the war was over, and she longed for him. She

  was not foolish enough to imagine that he would make everything all right

  again-Hercules could hardly have improved their condition-but his place

  was with them, to be responsible for the welfare of his family again. He'd

  played at soldier long enough.

  During the last few months of the war, her emotions had taken a

  helter-skelter ride of despair at their state, fear of the lawless gangs

  freely roaming the countryside, joy at the small Southern victories, and

  bitter acceptance of their defeat. She had been in Florence on the day

  that news of Lincoln's assassination reached them, taking young James to

  Elizabeth, and like many in the town, she had cheered heartily at the

  news. Then the occupying Federal troops had swept among them, brutal and

  ruthless, announcing that the least demonstration of joy would result in

  the offender's home being burned, and any rejoicing by the townspeople

  would bring

  QUEEN 547

  about the destruction of the town. This had forcibly brought home to

  Lizzie the power that the Federals now enjoyed, and the new constraints

  that governed their lives. She lived in fear, not only of the outlaws but

  of the law itself. She simply didn't know how to behave in this strange

  world of Northern, military rule, and so she kept her mouth shut and her

  tail between her legs, and prayed for Jass's return.

  Above everything else, and what was most astonishing to her, was how very

  much she missed him. The death of Easter had taken a great burden from

  her concept of their marriage. She doubted he would ever take another

  paramour, for Easter had been a special case, and now there were no

  slaves for him to choose from, or to go to for a single night. So he was

  hers at last, in a way he had never been before. She found that she

  wanted him, she yanted to feel the weight of him beside her in her bed

  at night, and because she no longer had a rival to whom she was being

  constantly compared, she wanted to explore the physical side of her

  marriage with a greater enthusiasm than she had ever known. She lived in

  expectation of the smell of him, the touch of him, the feel of him, and

  she wanted to give him another baby, no matter how much it hurt, to prove

  how very much she loved him. If only he would come home.

  Then the brat came into the room, and reminded her of so many things she

  would rather forget. She was the past, and soon she would be gone, like

  all the other slaves. Good riddance, thought Lizzie, who missed the

  service that the slaves provided, but was determined to show the world

  that she could manage without them. And, like Sally and so many others,

  she firmly believed that many of the ex-slaves would come running home

  soon enough, when they discovered what they had lost in return for this

  wretched freedom. When they did, they'd have to beg for a job as far as

  Lizzie was concerned. Li
ke the brat, whom she simply 'Ignored.

  Queen put down the coffee, and stood waiting, not for thanks, for she

  knew Gabriel's trumpet would come sooner, but for instruction. Her eyes

  scanned the room, checking on necessary repairs while she waited. But

  Sally and Lizzie had forgotten their cues, and Queen had to prompt them.

  "Wonder what they want for dinner," she said to the fireplace.

  548 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Sally, who hadn't realized the purpose of Queen's attention, responded

  immediately, but not to Queen.

  "I wonder what we should have for dinner tonight," she said to Lizzie.

  Lizzie shrugged. Who knew what was in the pantry? She never went there,

  because she didn't want to have to speak to the brat. Or even see her.

  "Oh, fried chicken," she dreamed. "I'd love some fried chicken; we haven't

  had it in so long. With potatoes, and a rich, creamy gravy-"

  "She go out and catch me a chicken, I'll fry it," Queen snorted to a

  portrait on the wall.

  "Be realistic, Lizzie," Sally said at the same time.

  There was a tiny silence, while they waited for another prompt. Queen left

  them in suspense for a moment.

  "I s'ppose I could make a vegetable stew," she said to the drapes.

  Lizzie sighed. "I suppose we'll just have to make do with vegetable stew

  again," she said. "Again!"

  Queen ignored the barb. They had only vegetables, and should be grateful

  for that. Occasionally, William or Isaac shot a rabbit, but even they were

  in short supply. There were too many hunters.

  "We must count our blessings," Sally said. "I'm sure it will be delicious."

  It was done, the charade had been played out one more time, and Queen

  humphed and left the room. The contrast of Queen's physical presence with

  the pretense that she was not there had unsettled Lizzie. She put down her

  tapestry and looked about her at the shabby room that once had been so

  grand. If only Jass would come. He would solve all their problems. They

  would have some kind of income again, for Jass would find a way. And he

  would get rid of Queen. There was no place for her; she could no longer

  pretend to have a special bond of attachment to the family. She was a

  nigra, and nigras, who had some value before the war, were less than

  nothing now. With Queen gone, with all the slaves gone, they would have to

  start afresh. They would hire new staff, as and when they could afford it,

  and life would never be the same as it was before, but it would be

  something, and they would be happy.

  QUEEN 549

  She walked to the window and stared out, hoping to see him walking up the

  drive.

  "If only he would come home," she said softly.

  Queen scraped and cut the vegetables, and put them in a pot of water to

  simmer. She'd already cleaned the bedrooms, made the beds, and changed the

  sheets. Tomorrow she would start on the weekly laundry, and then, if it

  was a good drying day, she'd scrub the hall floor. There wasn't much more

  she could do today, but there would be light for at least another hour,

  so she went outside to hoe the weeds in the little vegetable garden that

  she tended, but she was sick of working.

  She threw aside her hoe and walked to the slave graveyard to see her

  mammy instead. Weeds covered the grave and she bent to the task of

  clearing them, but she felt a little sick. Her time of the month was

  coming, and she prayed it would not be bad, as it sometimes was, because

  she had too much to do. Tiredness flooded through her, and she lay on the

  ground beside the grave to rest. Not to sleep-she had no time for thatbut

  just to rest for a little while. She saw a line of ants crawling through

  the weeds, going to or from their nest, and dreaded to think that perhaps

  they burrowed into the ground and crawled over her dead mammy, and that

  made her sad because she knew her mammy wasn't there anymore, but gone,

  gone, food for worms. Tears trickled from her eyes, as much for herself

  and her present desperate loneliness, as for sweet Easter.

  She had no one to talk to except Isaac and Davy, and they as field hands

  avoided her, a house nigger. Even William and Eleanor, when they were

  here, hardly acknowledged her, taught by their mammy and their gran'ma.

  She had no one to share her troubles with, no one to ease her burden, no

  one to laugh with and play with, or even to sit with in companionable

  silence, knowing that they cared about her. All she had was people to

  shout at, who pretended that they never heard her.

  It would be different when her pappy came home. Please, Mammy, make him

  come home.

  "If we goin', reckon we should go," Davy said.

  "Reckon we should," Isaac agreed.

  550 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Davy was surprised. They'd talked about it so much, and Davy guessed the

  truth of Isaac's reluctance to leave. He was waiting till the Massa came

  home, to see if it was all right to go, to get his permission to leave.

  Old folk were like that; they clung to the old ways.

  "Massa ain't never comin'," Isaac said. He wasn't so old, younger than

  the Massa, but it confirmed Davy's guess. "Reckon he's dead."

  They sat in the clearing of the old empty slave quarters. It was a

  starry, cloudless night, and they'd built a little fire to keep the

  mosquitoes away. They'd eaten their portions of Queen's vegetable stew,

  saved some for breakfast, and they made the decision that they would

  leave the next day. They didn't have any money, but they'd manage

  somehow. Davy had heard a story that anyone who was prepared to work in

  or near the cesspits was well paid, and he was ready to do that. Not for

  long, of course, just till they had enough cash to get them to New

  Orleans. Or Somewhere. Or anywhere.

  They sat in pleasant silence, each dreaming his separate dream and their

  bold new future. After an hour or so, Isaac spoke.

  "Best git to bed," he said. "Best be up early, if we gwine go.

  "Yeh," Davy nodded in agreement. After another long silence, they went

  to their separate beds, but Davy couldn't get to sleep for hours. They

  were going. At last, they were going. At last, he was going to be truly

  free.

  Isaac woke him at dawn. They packed their few belongings

  and ate the vegetable stew left over from the previous night.

  It was a lov ' ely morning, fragments of a gentle mist hovering

  in the air. Isaac looked around at the slave quarters, where he

  had lived all his life, and which he was not anxious to leave.

  "Gwine miss this ol' place," he said.

  Davy nodded, hoping he had not changed his mind.

  "Gwine say good-bye to the ol' folk," Isaac said, and walked away, in the

  direction of the slave graveyard.

  Queen was also awake early, and had put the old sheets in a big tub, to

  soak. She gathered three eggs from the few laying hens, enough for Miss

  Lizzie and Miss Sally if she scrambled

  QUEEN 551

 
them and made a lot of toast. She put hickory acoms in the oven to roast,

  prepared the breakfast, and served it in the dining room. No one spoke to

  her. She went outside, scrubbed the sheets, rinsed them, and hung-them out

  to dry, then put the other clothes in to soak. She went back into the big

  house, got her dustpan and brush, and went upstairs to clean the rooms and

  make the beds.

  So it was that she saw him first. Straightening the drapes, she glanced

  out of the window, and saw a tiny figure at the distant gateway. She knew

  it was him before she could see who it was.

  Her heart fluttered, and tears spurted to her eyes. He had come home.

  She went downstairs and into the sitting room. Miss Lizzie was working

  at her tapestry, and Miss Sally was trying to read a newspaper, a small

  magnifying glass to her eye.

  "He's comin'," she said quietly. "The Massa's comin'."

  For a moment it was as if she had not spoken, or they had not heard her.

  But they could not ignore her now. Sally put down the paper and turned

  to stare at Queen.

  Lizzie let out a little scream of joy. She threw down her needlework, and

  ran from the room. Sally pulled herself to her feet, using her cane as

  help, and followed more slowly.

  Lizzie ran onto the veranda, and looked to the drive. She could see him

  walking up the hill to the house, and she wanted to fly into his arms and

  hold him to her and never let him go. But something in his manner stopped

  her. He looked downcast and proud and lost and found, and the empty

  sleeve hanging at his right side made her heart catch in her mouth. And

  then she saw those nigras going to talk to him, she never could remember

  their names.

  She could not, must not, go to him, not now. She could almost sense the

  defeat in him, and the need for things to be as they were , although they

  never could be. She composed herself, and straightened her hair and her

  dress, and waited for him as she would have waited for the returning

  hero.

  Davy had begun to think that they would never leave the graveyard. Isaac

  had spent forever saying good-bye to all his dead relatives, and Davy

  thought he had seen tears in the

  552 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  man's eyes. He sat under a tree, to wait until Isaac had finished whatever

  conversations he was having with these folk who couldn't hear, and,

  because he was tired, he drifted into a light sleep. The next thing he

  knew, Isaac was prodding him with his foot.

  "Time to go," Isaac said, and Davy let out a whoop of joy. They walked

  down the hill, past the white cemetery, and toward the mansion.

  "Ain't gwine say g'bye to 'em?" Davy had asked, worried that ol' Missy

  Sally would change Isaac's mind.

  "Nope," said Isaac. "But I's leavin' by the front gate." They skirted the

  bottom of the hill on which the big house stood, and made for the drive,

  and saw the Massa coming home. Davy cursed his luck. Now they would never

  leave. Not surprisingly, Isaac walked straight to the Massa.

  "Welcome home, Massa," he said. "We's glad you's come back safe."

  "Isaac," Jass said warmly, and smiled. He looked at the younger man, but

  could not remember his name.

  "Davy," Davy said. No one ever remembered his name.

  "I'm surprised you're still here," Jass said. They were free and he

  doubted they had been paid. Or perhaps Sally had managed the money better

  than he had thought.

  "Mat'a fac', Massa, we was jus' leavin'," Davy said, to forestall Isaac.

  Jass stared sadly at the empty cotton fields, and nodded his head.

  Isaac felt the need to explain. "Thing is, young Davy ain't ever been off

  the plantation. Wants to see the world."

  Jass nodded again, but did not look at them. "Well, good luck," he said,

  as if he understood. "If you change your minds, I guess I'll need a

  couple of hands here." He smiled again, ruefully. "I don't expect I'd be

  able to pay very much. But something."