he had bitten her shoulder, and for a dreadful moment she imagined him
hitting her as brutally if ever he found out the truth. Yet now he was
himself again, charming and gentle, escorting her into the lamplit theater
and introducing her to people of rank and honor, and being completely
attentive to her. But she could not rid her mind of the bloody face of the
beggar.
She had never been to a theater before, and it worked a little of its
magic on her. She felt a rush of expectation when the band struck up, the
lamps were dimmed, and the curtain rose on a b1lightly lighted stage. The
pretty costumes and gaudily painted scenery distracted her for a while,
but when a soprano started to sing "Dixie," the audience rose to their
feet to sing with her. Queen loved the song, but she was supremely
conscious that she, a mulatta, was alone among two hundred whites
chorusing the anthem of the Confederacy, and the strident passion of
their voices made her want to cry.
After the show they walked down to the riverbank to see the fireworks.
It was a small, cheap show, but glorious to Queen, who had never seen
fireworks before. Her fears disappeared in a cluster of rocketing color,
and she turned to Digby, her eyes glistening.
"Isn't it wonderful," she cried, but he did not seem to be sharing her
excitement.
"Those of us who fought for the Confederation don't find much joy in it,"
he said.
Queen turned back to look at the fireworks again, her spirits dashed.
"I wonder if your father is celebrating in Florence," Digby asked her
casually, softly.
Queen didn't look at him. Fear shimmered down her spine. She had never
told him exactly where she came from. But he knew.
QUEEN 611
"I know all about you," she heard Digby say. "There aren't too many
Jacksons of Alabama. I know his plantation is called The Forks of
Cypress, and that it is a few miles outside Florence. Not so very far
from here."
The image of Digby striking the beggar came into Queen's mind again. She
thought she might run, but he would catch her easily. She stood
stock-still, staring fixedly at the river.
"I also know that his estate has gone to rack and ruin since the war,"
he said.
It hadn't been so difficult for Digby to find out, for Florence was not
so very far away, and he had many connections. He guessed what was going
through her mind, for he had chosen his moment to tell her, and the
words, most carefully. It amused him to watch her, too scared even to
look at him. A tiny, frightened sparrow, trembling, in the expectation
of immediate disaster.
He let the implicit threat drift into the night, and then put a smile
into his voice.
"You silly goose. We're none of us what we were." He could see her
tension melt away and her beautiful shoulders droop, from relief.
"I've watched my family's fortune fade to nothing but a stash of useless
Confederate notes," he continued. "We are all poor now."
She turned to took at him at last. She had been such a fool. He didn't
know everything about her; he knew only what anyone could find out. Fear
still lingered in her eyes, but it was overridden by her need for
reassurance. He touched her sweet soft neck and let his fingers trace up
to her chin. Gently, he pulled her face up to his. His mouth was inches
from hers.
"Here we are," he whispered. "Two lost and lonely people who have found
each other at last."
He kissed her tenderly, letting his lips just brush against hers, and
looked into her eyes again.
"I've no right to ask you, and I know I should ask your father first, but
I think he will understand," he said. "Will you marry me?"
Queen stared at him, in wonder, and dread, and foolishness. She felt
faint, and thought she was going to fall, but his strong arms were there
to support her. He held her to him and kissed
612 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
her, and she felt his tongue caress her lips and edge its way into her
mouth.
Every rational instinct in her body told her to say no to him, to break
away, leave him now, get away from him now, but she was betrayed by all her
senses, and her heart and her mouth said yes.
Alice called her a fool, a blind, stupid, dangerous fool, and slapped
Queen's face to knock some sense into her. She couldn't marry Digby and keep
her blood secret forever. He was bound to find out, by a slip, or a
well-meaning acquaintance, or what if she had a baby, and a little
pickaninny popped out? At the very least, Digby would want to meet Queen's
father, and then he would know that Queen had tricked him, lied to him from
the moment that she met him. And then what would he do?
The image of the bloody beggar came into Queen's mind, and she wept, but
Alice was pitiless. Queen blurted out the story of the fight at the
theater, and told Alice of Digby's frequent statement of hatred for blacks,
and Alice stared at her in consternation.
"Then why did you say yes to him?" she asked coldly.
"I don't know!" Queen told her truthfully. She didn't know why. Except that
she was fond of him, and wanted to be loved. And the potential for violence
that she had seen in him so alarmed her she would have done anything not to
offend him.
Alice fought hard to make her see reason, but even if Queen agreed with
her, she didn't know what to do.
"Get out of this, girl, as fast as you can," Alice told her. "You've been
playing with fire too long."
They argued for half the night. Queen knew Alice was right, but was too
stubborn about her own romantic mistake, and too frightened of Digby to
tell him the truth. Alice blamed herself, but not in a way that Queen
understood. Alice was regretting that she had been stupid enough to take in
this foolish girl who was putting everything Alice had worked so hard to
achieve at risk.
"Don't you understand? It isn't just you," Alice insisted. "It's all of us
who can pass. We all come under suspicion then, just for knowing you."
QUEEN 613
Finally, Alice delivered her ultimaturn.
"!f You don't break it off, you will have to leave," she said.
Queen could not believe her ears, could not believe her friend was sa
ing this, but it had its effect. Caught between
y 4~
the devil and the deep blue sea, Queen could only choose the lesser of the
two evils, Even if Digby hit her, as he had hit the beggar, it could be
not worse than losing the only security she had, her friend and her home.
Emotionally exhausted, Queen slept badly and late. She dressed soberly,
and made her way to Digby's lodgings. She tapped on the door, and when
he opened it, he smiled and expressed his pleasure and surprise, but
wondered if they should go out, for they would be alone in his apartment.
The lack o
f a chaperone did not bother Queen. It did not affect what she
had to do.
She had never been to his apartment before, and was surprised at how
untidy the sitting room was. She had thought him a man of neat habits.
Perhaps she was seeing him with clearer eyes, for suddenly he didn't seem
to be quite as handsome as before, but fitted into his seedy surroundings.
The drapes were drawn against the midday sun, and papers were scattered
over the floor. Through the open door she could see into his bedroom. The
bed was unmade, and there was a smell of dirty clothes in the air. He
hadn't shaved yet, and his shirt was unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up.
She could see his muscular arms, and he made no attempt to put on a
jacket, or disguise his body from her. His smile, which had made her heart
melt only a short few days ago, now seemed to be leering, and a little
contemptuous. She was very frightened of him. The air in the room was
close and stuffy, and when he asked why she had come, she thought she
might faint. She looked very pale, and he sat her on a chair and brought
her some brandy. She choked on the strong drink, and he laughed, and
assured her it was completely medicinal. She could not resist the feeling
that he was enjoying her discomfort.
He came close to her, sat beside her, and stared at her. His look was
unnerving, for she could see no trace of his usual kindness in it.
614 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"I wrote to your father today," he said.
The room spun about her, and Queen fell to the floor in a swoon.
Digby picked her up, carried her into the bedroom, and laid her on the
bed. He didn't bother to tidy up the covers. He didn't need neatness for
what he planned to do.
Queen was not insensible for long, and when she woke she was disoriented
for a moment. Then she remembered where she was, and clutched at her
clothes, but he had not molested her. He was not in the room, and she got
up to leave. Perhaps he had gone out, and she could get away and come
back some other time to do what had to be done, but then she thought of
Alice, and lay back on the bed in despair.
There was a tap on the door, and Digby came in, carrying a small bottle
and a glass.
"Wide awake?" he asked. She nodded, and wondered how long she had been
asleep.
"Only a few minutes," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her.
"Now, drink this. It will make you feel better. "
He poured a little clear liquid from the bottle into the glass, and gave
it to her to drink. Queen knew from the smell it was laudanum, and she
didn't want it, but he insisted. Reluctantly, she swallowed a little of
the drug. She was surprised that he took a sip of it too.
He stroked her face and told her how pretty she was, and how naughty they
were to be alone in his bedroom. His hand caressed her neck and her
shoulders, and she tried to pull away, but she felt lazy, and wann, and
nothing seemed very important. His voice was so soothing.
"Relax," he crooned, "let the drug do its work. Don't you feel better?
Don't you feel good? Don't you feel as if you're floating on a fluffy
pink cloud?"
Queen nodded slowly, for she did feel like that. He told her he took the
opium to relieve the pain of his war wounds, but he had not been wounded
in the war, and had been addicted to laudanum for some years. His voice
had no sense or meaning to her; she was drifting in a timeless mist and
nothing mattered anymore. It didn't matter when his hand moved down to
her breasts and he fondled them with gentle but increasing
QUEEN 615
urgency. It didn't matter when his hand moved down to her hips and down
her leg and pulled up her dress and lifted her petticoat. It didn't matter
when he kissed her full on the mouth and forced his tongue into her. It
didn't matter when she felt his hand move up inside her leg, or that she
could feel his hard manhood pressing against her. She was lost in an
erotic heaven, and his lulling voice, speaking of his love for her, was
the music of angels.
But now something else began to happen. Perhaps she had not taken enough
of the opium to surrender to him. The rough stubble on his chin grazed
her cheek, and when he kissed her, he chewed on her lips, until it became
unpleasant to her. He started to pull at her camiknickers, and when she
tried to stop him, he became more forceful and pushed her back on the
bed. The fear of his increasing violence battled with the drug, and she
struggled against him, which made him laugh. He pinched her hard, and
slapped her rump, and it hurt her. She cried out, and her cries of pain
mingled with his cries of lust. He hit her again, and there was nothing
playful in it, and she saw that same look in his eyes as when he hit the
beggar. She tried to twist away from him, but he grabbed her by the arms
and dragged her back to him. He ripped her petticoat and her knickers and
forced himself between her legs, mauling her breasts, slapping her face,
biting her shoulders. He wrenched at the buttons on his pants, and pushed
her head down to his groin. When she screamed, he hit her again and told
her to do it to prove that she loved him.
He thrust himself into her mouth, and pushed her head down onto him.
Queen gagged and gasped and pulled herself free, and screamed at him the
one thing she thought might stop him.
"I's nigra!" she cried.
But he only laughed.
"You stupid slut," he said. "Do you think I didn't know?"
She stared at him, unable to believe him. How could he have known'?
"It was a game," he said. "A funny, delightful game. I wanted to see how
far I could go before you told me. Did you really think I would marry a
slut like you?"
Her last defense was gone, and all she could do was try and get away. He
might do anything to her now.
616 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
"Now the game's over and you lost," he said. "So you have to pay."
She tried to run from the bed, but he caught her, and hit her with all his
might. She screamed and fell, blood running from her mouth. The sight of it
brought a terrible new intensity to his already frightening urgency.
"Bitch," he yelled, and hit her again. "Cheap, nigra bitch." He smiled an
awful smile.
"You'll get what cheap nigra bitches deserve."
He forced himself into her mouth again, thrust himself into her while she
gagged and cried. He hit her rump, a dozen times, each time harder than
before. When she tried to pull free from him again, he smashed his fist
into her face. He tore open her bodice and bit her breasts until he drew
blood.
He twisted her over onto her face, and locked her arm behind her back with
his hand until she thought he must pull it from its socket. With his other
hand he pulled up her dress and forced himself into her from behind, like
a dog. Yet he was careful. Even at the pitch of his f
renzied desire, a
greater passion ruled him, and at the time of his climax, he spilled his
seed onto her and not into her, for there were enough nigger bastards in
the world already.
Pain was searing through her like lightning. She screamed, and begged God
to save her, and eventually God could not bear to see her in so much agony,
and delivered a merciful oblivion unto His tormented daughter.
71
He kicked her out when he had finished with her, toward
dawn. Beaten and bloody, she staggered through the quiet
streets to her only sanctuary. Her mind refused to remember
what she had been through, and all she understood was the
pain of the present. Her clothes were tom, and she pulled her
coat tight around her, as if to cover her shame. Walking was
QUEEN 617
difficult for her, and some of her wounds were still oozing blood.
The stairs to Alice's apartment daunted her, and she sat for a while,
halfway up, and tried to find some reserves of strength. But she was so
close to home, so close to help, so close to someone who might understand
what she had been through, that she pulled herself up, and went to the
apartment.
Alice had not slept. She was still fully clothed, staring at the empty
fireplace. When Queen came into the room, Alic~ saw her sorry state, but
felt little pity for her. Violence toward women was not uncommon in the
world in which Alice had grown up, and what Queen had done was worse than
any physical beating.
"You told him," she said. It was not a question, but Queen nodded,
puzzled by the coldness of her friend.
"We're not going to be married," she whispered, and sank into a chair.
She wanted Alice to come to her, hold her, caress her, and tell her that
she was loved. Alice did something else instead. She went to the window
and pulled back the drapes, to reveal a pane of shattered glass.
"How could you tell him?" she asked.
Queen's head swam. She had done what Alice wanted. Why was she so angry?
Alice picked up a small rock from the floor. A note was tied to it, and
she gave it to Queen to read.
Some words had been roughly penciled on the note: "All nigra bitches will
die."
Alice shrugged. "Him, or his friends," she said. "They'll all know by
now. "
She turned on Queen in anger. "How could you tell him? You knew you were
playing with fire. How many warnings did you need?"
Queen hung on desperately to the only truth she knew. "He raped me," she
whispered piteously.
It made no difference to Alice. Rape was part of a woman's destiny to
her. Survival was all, and Queen had put their survival at perilous risk.
Word would spread like wildfire, a couple of mulattas successfully
passing as white, and the consequences of that public knowledge were too
hideous to imagine. Queen's whispered admission of her blood was a
618 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN
hurricane that tore down Alice's elaborate house of cards. She guessed
what had happened.
"And you told him, to try to save your precious virginity?" Alice said,
in amazement. She had no concept of what virginity might mean to a girt
like Queen.
Queen nodded miserably. "It was all I had," she said. And then anger,
ignited by Digby's cruelty and Alice's cynicism, exploded inside her.
"And no one got the right to take it away from me, without my say-so,"
she blazed. "No matter what the cost!"
The little tirade cost her dearly, sapping the last of her energy. She
slumped in the chair again, caressing her beaten body. Her mind was numb
as she listened to Alice's plans. Queen would have to leave, get out, get
away, somewhere, anywhere, Huntsville, Savannah, North, to the devil, for
all Alice cared. Alice would lie low, and wait until any hue and cry had
died down. She would spread the word that she had kicked Queen out when
she discovered she was mulatta. Her admirers would help, and perhaps she
might survive. She set about writing a note to George, ignoring Queen,