"Thank you, Massa," Isaac said. They stood'in silence for a moment, not
knowing how to end it, not knowing how to say good-bye.
Jass nodded, and moved on toward the house.
"Good luck to you, Massa," Isaac called after him. Jass did not look
back, and Davy could hardly believe his good fortune.
QUEEN 553
"it true!" he cried softly. "We's free! Massa didn't even try an' stop
us!"
"Hush yo mouth," Isaac snapped. He never took his eyes off Jass, but
watched the sad, lonely man walk on up to the big house. It was a hard
homecoming for him, Isaac thought.
Sally was standing beside Lizzie on the veranda, and Queen was a little
distance away, mindful of her dubious place. Like Lizzie, Sally wanted to
run to him and take him in her arms, and hold him and love him and soothe
the hurt from him, but, like Lizzie, some evident pain in his manner
stopped her. The empty sleeve at his side caused her mother's soul to cry,
but she would not allow the tears to flow.
Jass stopped, a little way from the house. He looked at the women, and
tried to smile, but could not find sufficient joy in him even to do that.
He could have been back days ago, two weeks ago, but he could not come
home to nothing, with nothing. Jass took a resonating pride in his war
record, in his achievements as a soldier; he had fought hard and well,
but the surrender proved that he had not fought hard enough, and now he
had to face-the consequences of his failure. He had seen the devastation
in Georgia, caused by Sherman's army on its march to the sea, and
although he knew that his property would not be so desolate, he knew it
would be bad enough. Any soldier who had fought for the Confederate cause
knew that of his home. They talked about it among themselves, each
sharing the other's gloom. Unless they had gold hidden away somewhere,
they had nothing, except land. Jass was rich in that, but the land was
worth nothing, like his Confederate bonds and his Confederate dollars and
his Confederate bank account, and so he was poor, dirt poor, war poor,
Confederate poor, like a thousand and a thousand and a thousand others,
He had tried to come back with something, but no one had anything to
give. On his long walk home he had visited every friend, every
acquaintance, calling in all his favors, in the hope of some scrap of
promise for the future, but promises were all he had, and distant ones.
Of immediate help, cash help, practical help, he had nothing. He had
stopped in Florence the previous night, with Elizabeth, and comforted her
for the death of Tom, and loved his children, and heard of the sorry
state
554 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
of affairs at The Forks of Cypress. This morning he had walked from
Florence to the plantation, and saw that everything he had heard,
everything he had guessed, everything he had feared, was true.
He stared at his mother, and at the empty, silent, bankrupt fields.
Everything he had inherited, everything that had been in his governance,
everything that his father had charged him to protect, was reduced to
nothing.
It broke his heart.
"Mother," he said. "I'm so sorry. I am so very sorry."
Sally knew that it had to be said, knew that he had to say it, but she
was never prouder of him than at that moment. Her son was brave. He had
fought and fought well, and would, she knew, have given his life for
them. But her son was more than brave. Her son was honest.
She moved to him slowly, love for him and pride in him battling in her
heart for dominance. The evidence of his bravery, that awful empty
sleeve, caused in her emotions she had not felt since he was bom, and was
whole and complete and healthy, and she loved him for it. Now he was not
whole, he was not complete, but he was alive, and she loved him all the
more.
"Oh, Jass, my darling son," she said, like a secret between them. "It's
wonderful to see you."
She took her wounded child into her arms, and held him as a mother
should, to keep him safe from life's storms. He clove to her. The very
smell of her that had so sealed itself in his memory on the day he had
gone away to war broke open all the other memories of his love for her,
and swept aside the bitter remembrances of war, if only for this moment.
He did not weep, because he was home, and safe, and there was no need to
cry.
Lizzie, aware of some powerful, visceral emotion between them that she
was not privy to, moved forward slowly, and now Jass saw her, his wife
and love, and he included her in his embrace with his mother. They stood
together, the three of them, and spoke not a word, and moved not at all,
until each was sure, in their heart, that he would never go away again.
Then Lizzie laughed through her tears.
QUEEN 555
"Oh, come inside," she said. "You need looking after." He moved with them
to the veranda, to the house, to the open door.
He did not even see Queen, standing on the veranda, waiting so patiently
for a word, a look, something, anything, that might acknowledge her
existence. But there was nothing. Jass, still locked in Lizzie and
Sally's loving embrace, moved past her into the house.
As if she wasn't there.
It was a shattering moment for Queen. She stood stock-still, waiting for
him to come back and include her in his embrace, but knew he would not.
She did not exist to him. She wasn't there. She was nothing, worse than
nothing.
She bit her lip, hard, determined not to cry, but not knowing how to
avoid it. She felt the salt taste of blood, her blood in her mouth, and
knew she was trembling. She had to get away, and moved from the veranda,
across the lawn, somewhere, anywhere; she had no direction or purpose,
she only had to get away.
She stopped at the edge of the lawn, and looked down at the drive. Isaac
was moving slowly to the gate, trying to keep pace with the whooping
Davy.
Davy, looking back at Isaac, saw Queen alone on the little hill, and
called out to her.
"Come along with us, Miss Queen," he yelled, wanting to gather the world
into his joy. Isaac looked back and saw her, and seemed to understand.
"Ain't nuttin' for yo' here," he cried.
She should, she knew, go with them, because Isaac was right, there was
nothing for her here, not even a father's love. She wanted to call out
to them to wait for her, to run down to them, careless of clothes or
baggage, to be with people who might have liked her, or at least admitted
she existed, off together to a bold bright somewhere.
But she could not. This was her place. These people, even if they did not
acknowledge it, were her family. The Massa was her pappy, and she would
make him love her. She convinced herself, in that moment, that they
needed her at least as much as she needed them. She tried to smile, but
r />
could not.
556 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
She gave a little wave to Isaac and Davy, and Davy called something that
she couldn't hear, but that might have been good-bye, then danced away.
Isaac, after another glance at Queen, followed him more slowly.
Queen watched them until they were gone from the gate and gone from her
life, taking her last opportunity of freedom with them. She turned back
and looked at the house. Through the open window she could see Jass, the
Massa, her pappy, the returning hero, sitting with his family. His white
family.
Well, he would be hungry soon, after his long walk, so she had better go
to the kitchen and make him something to eat.
She walked away, to the back of the house.
64
lass spoke to Queen later, in the kitchen when she was cooking. She'd
killed a broody hen to make a little celebration dinner for his return,
and occupied herself with jointing the bird while he talked, so that he
might understand her determination to go on as before, that she expected
no special treatment from him, which, of course, she did. He was kind to
her and clearly relieved by her domesticity, and her apparent refusal to
ask for more than he could give.
Queen had hardly occupied his mind for the last several months, for her
place within the structure of his household was special only to her. When
he thought of his family, it was of Lizzie and his children by her, of
his mother, and then, by extension and lessening concern, of Elizabeth
Kirkman and her family, and on through the great network of his white
relations. He was fond of Queen, fonder of her than of any other of his
former slaves, for she was Easter's child, and a living fragment of the
memory of his love. That she was also his own child was a lesser issue,
and one of lessening importance to him. Although the war had been over
only for a few weeks, his discussions with his friends and associates had
con-
QUEEN 557
centrated all his attention on the survival of his immediate and legal
family in the postwar years.
As foreseen by Sally some time earlier, and Parson Dick before that,
white Southern society was already closing in on itself, as protection
against the new occupying armies of the North, military or civilian, and
that other army of countless numbers of freed slaves, who represented a
considerable threat to life as it had been and the life that any of them
saw as a viable future. Queen was part of the past. In that past she had
a clearly defined role, a child of the plantation, her place understood
by the entire society. In this new world, these children were dangerous,
less so in the case of girls, but profoundly so in the case of boys, who,
if they were given legal standing, might expect some portion of their
true parent's, estate. Thus the fragile white Southern inheritance might
be diluted to a point when those of Negro blood had dominance over great
estates. Since this was unthinkable, these children, boys and girls, had
to be excluded. This exclusion did not prohibit gentle treatment of them,
or even affection for them, but the gentler the treatment and the larger
the affection, the more claim they might have to recognition.
Intuitively, every Southerner understood this, and each was going to
considerable and sometimes brutal lengths to achieve a dispossession of
those who had once been admitted, if not nurtured.
Jass had talked with Sally, and she had told him of Queen's resistance
to the idea that she should leave. In this, Jass sided with Queen. She
was of his blood, however perversely, and he could not bear to make her
an outcast. So he came to her, and treated her as a valuable member of
his staff. He thanked her for her hard work, and told her of his
gratitude.
... Tain't nuttin'," Queen shrugged.
"Yes, it is," Jass said. "I don't think my family could have managed
without you."
He deliberately said "my family," instead of "our family," as part of the
process of exclusion. Queen guessed this, but chose to ignore it as a
slip of the tongue.
"It's my job, Massa," Queen shrugged.
He smiled. "You don't have to call me 'Massa' now," he said.
But what else could she call him?
558 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"And there's something else," he continued. "I can't afford to pay you
very much. Something, but not much. But then when things pick up-"
Queen was shocked. She was being relegated to a staff position. If he
paid her, he could dismiss her whenever he chose. That he could have
chosen not to pay her, but to send her on her way, did not occur to her.
"I don't want your money," she muttered.
Jass smiled again. "I have to pay you something," he said. "Slavery's
illegal now."
He left the room. He had hardly asked after her welfare, had not
discussed his own. He had taken on a cookhousekeeper at miserable wages,
and had, neatly and effectively, boxed her into a hole from which it
would be difficult for her to escape. Queen slumped on a chair at the
table, and hid her head in her hands.
"Slavery's illegal, but family ain't," she whispered to God. "And I's
family."
And God was kind to her, just for a moment, and sent a tiny ray of hope
into her heart. At least he hadn't dismissed her. At least he hadn't told
her she must leave, as Miss Sally had. He was letting her stay, and by
doing so, he had left open the door of her confining box. Times were
difficult for him, but when they got better he would see the error of his
ways, and elevate her, if only a little, from her lowly station. In the
meantime, she would put on a cheerful face, and make him realize what she
meant to him.
She smelled something burning. The potatoes had boiled dry. She jumped
up, snatched the pan from the stove, venting her frustration in energy.
Her hopes never came true. Slowly, very slowly, inch by inch, day by day,
the circumstances of the family improved, although they never regained
anything of their former fortune. Ja5s sold some small parQuIs of land,
and put other acreage out for rent. Encouraged by friends, he allowed them
to put his name forward as a candidate for the state legislature, and was
elected senator. His reimbursement was not large, and he was required to
spend a great deal of time in Montgomery, but at least he had an income,
which was more than many of
QUEEN 559
his friends had, and a job that gave him the opportunity to be of some
value to his constituency. He brought the children back from Florence,
believing that they belonged at The Forks, at their home, no matter how
difficult their daily travel to school might be. It was as well that he
did so, for Elizabeth, his half sister, died soon afterward., She had
never ceased mourning for Tom, and preferred to be with him in som
e kind
of peace, no matter how ethereal, rather than face the difficulties of the
world in which they now lived.
Sally wept for her daughter's death, for she would miss her, but she was
no stranger to death; indeed she almost seemed to welcome the concept of
it for herself. She spent days poring over the obituaries as published in
the skimpy daily newspaper, and attended whatever funerals she could. With
the small improvement in her diet, her eyesight seemed to get better, or
perhaps it was because the war was over, and Jass was home, and, with the
end of slavery, a great burden of responsibility had been taken from her.
Almost for the first time in her life, Sally had time for herself.
Lizzie positively flowered. Since there was no longer any point in trying
to be a Southern belle, and she was getting a little old for it, she no
longer tried. There were few opportunities for glittering social
occasions, as in the old days, for no one could afford them and had little
to celebrate other than sheer survival. She channeled her formidable
energy into the management of her house and the care of family. And her
love for Jass. Or her gratitude to him. He had come home when so many had
not, and Lizzie could not bear the idea of life as a widow. Although
efficient and capable in her own right, she was a woman who believed she
needed a husband to enable her to function at her best. Jass was surprised
by the change in her, especially when he took her to bed and she welcomed
him into her, and gave every indication that the experience, far from
being unpleasant to her, as latterly, gave her pleasure. If Jass had been
a suspicious man, he might have thought that she had taken a lover in his
absence, but he no longer tried to rationajize or examine what was, or
what might have been. He dedicated his energy to a better present.
560 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
Lizzie even came to an uneasy understanding with Queen, or at least
recognized her existence. Now that Queen had an official position within
the household, as paid staff member, some edge of anxiety was removed from
Lizzie. But she was a tough, relentless mistress, and was not shy of
demanding longer hours and harder work from her servant, if that was
possible. She still harbored resentment of her, and perhaps hoped that if
the job was made unbearable, Queen would leave of her own volition.
But Queen would not go, nor could she think of any reason why she should. If
she was grumpy to others, she always presented to Jass a sunshine face, and
hid from him any hurt or resentment that she felt. When told that Lizzie was
pregnant again, she smiled, and congratulated her Massa, although privately,
in her room, she wept. Jass didn't need any more children. He did not fully
appreciate one that he already had.
Thus her life became less than it had been when she was a slave. Then, she
had been able to persuade herself that she occupied some special place
within her Massa's heart and house.
Now she was simply a drudge.
.65
Alec Henderson was doing rather better than most. When he arrived back at
The Forks of Cypress after his long trek home, he was greeted with
surprising warmth by Letitia, and cordially by Sally and Lizzie. As soon as
politeness would allow, he went to his cottage alone, and, to his relief,
found that his cache of gold had not been disturbed.
He chuckled, and laughed, and hopped an unlikely jig in the empty room. He
was rich. Not really rich in the way that landed gentry had been, but
compared to almost anyone else in the district, he was a man of fiscal
means. He had a meager
QUEEN 561
dinner at the big house where Letitia was now living, and explained to
them something of his plans. Obviously, there was no place for him at The
Forks. Without slaves, they had no need of an overseer, and could not
afford one anyway. He planned to take Letitia away for a holiday to
Charleston, to see her family and discover their postwar circumstances.