Page 74 of Queen

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,