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nights to come he would pay more attention to his own needs, but this

  time was for her.

  It was exotic, languorous love to her, bringing her a pleasure she had

  not even imagined existed. Holding him close to her, deep inside her, her

  hands stroked the welts on his back that were the focus of her love, for

  she believed she would heal his heart, and leave it clear and unscarred,

  unlike his back, no matter how deep the wounds there.

  When it was done, they lay together, like naked, pagan children, and tiny

  tears of love appeared in Queen's eyes. Davis leaned over her.

  "On the plantation I swore I would drink the tears of every black who

  ever cried," he told her softly.

  Her put his mouth to her eyes and drank her tears.

  "It would be an ocean," he whispered.

  652 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  He worried that it had been bad for her, that he had hurt her, but she

  shook her head, and laughed away his concerns. She nestled into his

  powerful embrace, touched his lips with her fingers, and asked why he did

  not smile. So he smiled for her, and held her hand, and could not tell her

  the depth of his love, for he had never found love in the world before, and

  his could not match her own.

  She came to him every Thursday, and brought little comforts for the shack,

  but nothing that would make him feel that she was trying to tame him. They

  made love every Thursday, and he never betrayed her trust in him, and never

  took more from her than she could give.

  Fall came, and the first chill of winter. He fixed some old glass into the

  open space that was his window, and bought a stove so that they might be

  warm. He celebrated Christmas at church with her, and then walked her home

  to the sisters, for she had to serve their dinner. She gave him her gift,

  a new shirt, and he was embarrassed, because he had nothing for her. He had

  never given anything to anyone, because he had never had anyone to give

  anything to. She laughed, and told him it didn't matter. His love was all

  the present she needed. Yet she wanted something more.

  "I want yo' baby," she whispered to him one night when they lay in each

  other's arms, and she thought he was asleep. She wanted to feel his seed

  quicken inside her, and swell and grow big in her belly, until she exploded

  with the product of his love.

  Davis was not asleep, but he did not stir, did not open his eyes. He did not

  want her to know he had heard her, for he did not know how to explain to her

  that he would not bring a child into this world.

  From his earliest memories he had been consumed with bitterness at his

  enslaved state. A dark and rebellious boy, he had grown into a darker, more

  rebellious man, and he viewed with contempt those other slaves who seemed

  prepared to tolerate their imprisonment, or make the best of it, for Davis

  saw no good to be made of it. He was known only by his given name, because

  he refused to take the surname of his Massa, as was common practice on the

  plantations, and would not

  QUEEN 653

  answer to it if called. He had a strong need for women, but avoided them,

  and deliberately chose an ascetic life, shunning human contact. He wanted

  no consolation or condolence for his plight, and no simple comfort that

  might ease it. Much as he pined for a wife and children, he would not

  bring a child into this world, born into bondage. All he wanted was his

  freedom and when he had it he would be his own man and until then he would

  not belong to anyone.

  Not even his Massa. He did as little work as he possibly could, was the

  bane of the overseers, and felt the frequent bite of the lash. He ran

  away at the first opportunity, and thought himself, for a moment, free.

  He was exultant, but the reality that his freedom was a myth soon became

  clear to him. As able and resourceful as he was, the chances of being

  able to get from southern Alabama to the northern side of the MasonDixon

  line were virtually impossible, and he did not know how to contact anyone

  on the Underground Railroad that might have eased his passage. Slave

  catchers and dogs came after him, and within days he was back at the

  plantation and was given a hundred lashes. Since he could not escape to

  any secure freedom, he set his mind to breaking his Massa's will. He ran

  away whenever he could, fully expecting to be caught, taken back, and

  lashed. Eventually, he thought, they must see reason, eventually they

  must understand that he would not stay, and then they would let him go.

  Or kill him. Like Cap'n Jack before him, he thought slavery irrational

  and he could not understand why rational people tolerated it. In this,

  like .Cap'n Jack, he profoundly underestimated the society he was dealing

  with. His Massa would willingly have killed him rather than let him be

  free, for to let one slave go simply because he didn't want to be a slave

  was to undermine everything the society was built on, and stood for, and

  aspired to.

  Marked as a persistent and dangerous troublemaker, when the war came

  Davis was kept in leg shackles, so that he would not escape, for then he

  might have made it to sanctuary. When he was released from those shackles

  with emancipation, it was almost anticlimactic to him. Having fought

  against one thing all his life, now he had nothing left to fight for, and

  he did not know what he wanted to achieve. Being free, he discovered, was

  rfot enough for him.

  654 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  He traveled northward and what he saw appalled him. The vaunted equality of

  reconstruction was turning into a jungle of survival by shameless

  opportunists and many good and decent men were trampled in the rush.

  Segregation was rampant, and they could not even ride in the same streetcar

  as whites. Although some black men with property could vote, how many black

  men had that much property? The merits of a few, a very few, were being

  recognized, but that was mostly patronage, crumbs from the white man's

  table. And it would always be like that. Always and always and always. No

  white man would ever give real power to a black man, or real freedom. It

  had to be taken.

  When Queen told him that she wanted his baby, his soul blenched. There was

  nothing for a black boy in this world, and it was even worse for a black

  girl.

  He loved Queen as much as he could, but not as much as she loved him. Her

  love collided with his hate, and it made the pain worse than any white

  man's lash, and sweeter than any honey.

  Queen never told him again that she wanted his baby, because there was no

  need. He had already given her the gift that she wanted from him.

  76

  She told no one about it until it was inevitable. She didn't

  believe it herself until it was inevitable. When she missed her

  time of the month in late November, she wasn't unduly con

  cemed, for she was not always regular, but as the days dragged

  through December
she began to worry, and before Christmas

  she was sure. She was lethargic and often unwell, and even

  though she tried to pretend it was because of winter chills,

  every morning she looked in the mirror and held her stomach

  to see if it was growing, if her secret was starting to show.

  QUEEN 655

  Then the Preacher gave a sermon about lust and fornication, and the plight

  of the poor innocents brought into the world by those who could not, would

  not, avoid temptation.

  "Fornication, and all uncleanness, let it not be named among you; let it

  not be once named among you, as becometh saints! "

  Queen believed the words were directed exclusively at her, and cried a

  little, for she thought what she did with Davis was beautiful, and not

  unclean, but blessed in the sight of the Lord. And He had rewarded her

  with this precious gift, which would be hers and hers alone, and which

  she would love. She fought the guilt the Preacher made her feel, and

  became resentful, for the angel had called Mary blessed, and she was so

  in awe of the process of creation, of the miracle of this tiny thing

  growing inside her, that she believed it divine.

  " From fornication, and all other deadly sin; from all the deceits of the

  world, the flesh, and the devil, good Lord, deliver us."

  She flushed, for she had been deceitful. She had deceived Joyce and the

  sisters by not telling them about her baby. She had even deceived Davis

  by telling him that she wanted his child and not telling him her wish had

  been granted. But she did not believe she had sinned.

  "Deliver us, 0 Lord, deliver us. Hallelujah!"

  The rising shouts of the congregation, in full-throated agreement with

  the Preacher, made her despair, and she began to worry about the future

  of her child, if he should be fatherless, for she had already decided it

  was a boy. She despaired for herself, for what would people say to her,

  do to her, when they found out? She looked at Davis, who was sitting

  beside her. He took her hand and squeezed it gently. Queen wondered if

  he had guessed already, but knew he had not.

  Someone else had guessed. Joyce kept her eyes on Queen during the sermon,

  and saw the guilt, the eyes cast down to the floor. She saw Queen took

  at Davis, saw him take her hand, and saw the great need that Queen had

  for him. Joyce sighed, and prayed she was wrong, but knew she was not.

  She would deal with it when it had to be dealt with, and until then she

  could only pray.

  656 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Someone else had guessed as well. Miss Gippy had sharp ears, sharper eyes,

  and a fervid imagination. She had no experience with pregnancy, but had a

  fascination with fallen women, being so far from the precipice herself. In

  her younger days she had spent much time in Boston, lecturing to those who

  had strayed from the straight and narrow, and had questioned them avidly.

  She thought she knew all the classic symptoms, even if that knowledge was

  superficial. When she heard Queen being sick a couple of times in the

  morning, she smiled smugly to herself, and made a wild, but utterly correct,

  guess as to the reason. Miss Gippy said nothing to her sister. She preferred

  to wait and see what developed and take advantage of those developments to

  save the sinner from hell. Disillusioned with the life the Lord had assigned

  her, Miss Gippy had an occasional maliciousness about her, which her sister

  did not share.

  Miss Mandy, who should have been the first to guess, never did, and had to

  be told. And finally it was too choice a secret for Miss Gippy to keep to

  herself.

  Queen had developed a curious habit. Plentifully supplied with food from

  the sister's pantry, she began to steal food. It was no great crime,

  because the odd thing was that she took only what she could have had for

  free. It didn't happen very often, but occasionally, when she was depressed

  or agitated, concerned for the future welfare of her boy. She would filch

  a piece of toast from Miss Gippy's morning tray, or snatch a cake from the

  afternoon tea stand. She served breakfast one morning-crisply fried bacon

  and poached eggs, toast and butter and jam-and she stood waiting at the

  table as the sisters said their prayers. She always had to wait until the

  prayers were done, in case they needed anything more once they began to

  eat, and she was expected to pray with them.

  Miss Mandy's eyes were firmly closed, as it was her turn to lead the

  prayer. Queen, who knew she could not keep her condition secret much

  longer, had her eyes firmly open, and fixed on the basket of toast.

  "0 Lord, we thank Thee for Thy precious bounty," Miss Mandy intoned. "And

  for Thy many blessings on these Thy humble servants."

  Sure that no one was watching her, sure that the sisters' eyes were closed

  in prayer, Queen, quickly, furtively, grabbed

  QUEEN 657

  a piece of toast from the table, hid it under her apron, and stuffed it

  into her pocket.

  "Queen, what on earth are you doing?" Miss Gippy said sharply. Her eyes

  had been only partially closed, and watching Queen.

  Queen flushed, and prayed that the floor would open up and swallow her.

  "Nuttin', Missy," she said, lapsing into dialect, as she always did when

  she was nervous. "I ain't done nuttin'."

  Miss Mandy looked up, wondering what the fuss was about.

  "I saw you take that piece of toast," Miss Gippy admonished. "Don't we

  feed you enough, that you have to steal from our very table?"

  Queen couldn't think of anything to say, and looked at the floor.

  "The eighth commandment, girl!" Miss Gippy snapped. To Miss Mandy, the

  situation was completely confusing, but she understood there had been a

  puzzling crisis, and discipline was needed.

  "I think you'd better go to your room," Miss Mandy said, longing to be

  alone with her sister, to find out what the matter was.

  "After you've put the toast back," Miss Gippy added.

  The miserable Queen took the toast from her pocket, put it back in its

  basket, and scurried from the room. Miss Mandy waited for some word from

  her sister, but Miss Gippy was enjoying herself far too much. She

  buttered a piece of toast, spread it liberally with apple jelly, and took

  a bite from it.

  "Well?" Miss Mandy asked.

  There was another little silence while Miss Gippy chewed her food. It was

  not good manners to speak with your mouth full. She took a sip of tea and

  sprinkled salt on her eggs.

  "Nesting," she said casually, and tucked into her breakfast.

  It was as well that she did so, and thus could not see the look on her

  sister's face. Miss Mandy stared at her, first with amazement, and then

  with something very close to hate. At that moment, she hated Gippy, she

  hated Queen, she hated the world. It was her dearest wish in life to have

  a child, and now even the physical possibility of it was gone. She was
r />
  consumed with envy. She had been so good all her life, and loved

  658 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  the Lord, and He had denied her this simple reward. Yet Queen, immoral,

  illegitimate, nigra Queen, had been providentially blessed. 'Me reward for

  chastity was emptiness, and the wages of sin were glorious. It simply wasn't

  fair, and her only defense was to denounce the animal propensities of all

  blacks.

  "Pagans," she whispered harshly.

  Miss Gippy nodded her agreement, a tiny drop of egg yolk dribbling down her

  chin. She picked up her napkin and wiped it away, entirely satisfied with

  her morning.

  Queen sat on her bed, rocking gently, and keening, pity for her own distress

  and a lullaby for her unborn child.

  She had no alternative now. She had to tell someone, ask someone for help.

  But it would not be Davis.

  " I warned you," Joyce said angrily. "Don't let him get too close, I said!"

  "Well, I did!" Queen blazed back. "So there ain't no point in makin'

  speeches about it!"

  She turned away, her flash of anger quickly spent and dejection its

  immediate successor.

  "What am I going to do, Joyce?" she cried. Joyce moved quickly to her, and

  held her.

  " Hush, girl, no use cryin'," she said. "Ain't no use in cryin' now."

  But she let Queen cry, and then dried her eyes, and told her it was only

  proper that Davis should know. It was his baby. She did not understand why

  Queen was so reluctant. It was unlikely that Davis would hit her, and it

  was right that he share the burden. Maybe, if they were lucky, Davis would

  do what he should; certainly he would if Joyce had anything to do with it.

  Queen could not explain to Joyce that she was sure Davis would not marry

  her, because she was scared to admit it to herself. In the end she agreed

  to tell him, but only if Joyce went with her.

  Davis stared at her, and those eyes that she loved so seemed full of

  reproach. In this she was right, but he was not angry with her. Only with

  himself.

  Joyce was impatient. "She say it's your'n, and she ain't a

  QUEEN 659

  liar, so what you gwine do about it," she demanded.

  Davis said nothing, and Queen could not bear his silence.

  "I's sorry," she said, and to her relief and amazement, Davis smiled.

  "Guess I's gwine have to marry you," he said. Queen closed her eyes, and

  told her heart to be still, but it would not. When she opened her eyes

  again, he was still there, and still smiling. She got up, to fly into his

  arms, but Joyce had a few things to say first.

  "Not so fast, missy," Joyce commanded, and Queen stayed where she was.

  Joyce turned her attention to Davis.

  "She weren't gwine tell you, coz she didn't want to force you to marry

  her," Joyce told him, to Queen's surprise. She had not told Joyce this,

  Joyce had guessed.

  "But she don't want you if yo' jus' marryin' her coz you must," Joyce

  continued. "She don't want you if'n you don't love her." Queen hadn't told

  Joyce this either, but it was close to the truth.

  The smile had faded from Davis's lips. He listened to what Joyce had to

  say, and then turned and looked out of the window at the moonlight on the

  river. He could not lie; he could only tell them the truth. He adored

  Queen; he respected her and admired her. He thought she was the dearest

  thing he had ever met, filled up with love, and she deserved a fine man,

  and boundless happiness. By rights, that man should be him. The child was

  his, and Queen loved him. He would fulfill his duty, and marry her, if that

  was what she wanted, for he couldn't bear to think of her raising his child

  in this dark world on her own. But if loving her was the test, then he

  failed, and he could only be honest.

  "I don't know if I loves you," he said. "I don't think I know what love

  is."

  He saw the sadness wash into Queen's eyes, and guilt attacked his

  conscience. He could not do this to her.

  "But if'n I's gonna find out from anyone, I reckon it's you," he said. "And