Queen

except once, and she was sure he must love his son. How could he not?

  Queen bathed William, and sat in the nursery room feeding

  him, while Abner sprawled on the bed, irritable because of the

  heat. Queen was determined to find Davis, but could think of

  no way to achieve her goal. There was the possibility that she

  might run into him in the street, but she didn't want to leave

  anything to chance. When William was satisfied, she put him

  to bed in his cot, and then took Abner downstairs, to eat her

  own meal in the kitchen, with the hotel staff. The bellhops

  and kitchen staff were talking about the strike, in complete

  sympathy with it, and full of praise for this man Davis, who

  had come to town when the men first walked off the job, and

  had inspired them to their present defiant stand. Filled with

  pride, Queen wanted to ask them how she might find this man,

  but dared not. This was too public a place, and she was already

  aware that some element of danger attended Davis. After she

  had eaten, she found Mrs. Benson, and asked if she might be

  allowed to have a few hours rest, she was not feeling well.

  Slightly to her surprise, Mrs. Benson was fussily concerned

  for her welfare, and agreed - to her request. Queen went to her

  room and waited until she was sure Mrs. Benson would be

  having her dinner with her husband, for they always ate at the

  same time. She put Abner on her hip and slipped out into the

  night to find Davis.

  She wandered the empty streets hoping that by chance he would appear, but

  he did not. She went back to the scene of the afternoon's meeting, looked

  around for some clue to his whereabouts, and saw a small, lighted tavern

  across the road. Some men were drinking outside, squatting against the

  wall, and she recognized a couple of them as strikers she had seen that

  afternoon. She went to them, but although they gave her appreciative

  whistles, they were wary of her, and ignored her. Adjusting Abner's shawl

  so that his color could be clearly seen, she summoned her courage and spoke

  to one of the men, and told him she wanted to find Davis. They shrugged and

  QUEEN 695

  tried to send her on her way, but she said she would make a scene if they

  didn't help. She put on a fine performance, claiming that Davis had

  promised her marriage but had dumped her, leaving her with his baby, and

  she wanted to give him a piece of her mind.

  Which was true, In her frustration with him-at his departure, at the

  difficulty of locating him, and now the difficulty of getting to

  him-Queen felt a genuine anger rising inside her. It convinced the men,

  but still they resisted her, until Queen's voice rose, and she threatened

  to call the sheriffs if they didn't help. The men begged her to silence

  and had a whispered conversation among themselves. One went into the

  tavern, and came out a few minutes later with another, older man, who

  questioned Queen, and looked carefully at Abner. Her story or her

  indignation, or both, convinced him, and he jerked his head to indicate

  that Queen should follow him. He and the striker who had called him led

  her to the back of the tavern, where the horses were tethered. They

  mounted, and the older man pulled Queen up behind him, while the younger

  rode with Abner in his arms.

  They rode for a couple of miles into the night, the moon lighting their

  way, until the farmland gave way to woods. About a mile into the trees,

  by a small body of water, a river or an inlet, there was a shack, guarded

  by two or three armed strikers. Queen could see at least two other black

  men, with guns, watching them from the trees. The guards at the shack

  accosted them as they brought their horses to a halt.

  "She say she know him," the older man told them. The guards looked at

  Queen doubtfully.

  " White bitch?" one murmured. Queen was still on her horse, and reached

  out her hand to Abner.

  "This here my boy," she said.

  The younger striker offered Abner for the guard's inspection, and they

  looked from him to Queen. One of them told her to get down and wait, and

  he went into the shack. Queen dismounted and took Abner. She stood

  waiting in the hot, humid night, a little frightened by the guns, and

  thrilling in anticipation.

  After a few moments, the door of the shack opened, and Davis came out.

  He stared at Queen, and emotions rose within

  696 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  her that were too complex for her to begin to understand, for his face was

  filled with amazement, and then with pain.

  Then he smiled, a sweet smile.

  "Is it you?" he said.

  Queen nodded, not trusting herself to speak. And then a furious, blazing

  anger began in her belly, surged through her body, and burst out of her.

  "Yes!" she cried. "And this is your boy!"

  She marched up to Davis and thrust Abner at him.

  "Didn't you even want to see what he looked like?"

  If Davis was surprised by her fury, he didn't show it. He stared at Queen,

  then looked at Abner, and, gentle as a shepherd with a lamb, he took his

  son from her, and held him close. Tears stung in his eyes.

  "I knew he would be beautiful," he whispered softly to Queen. "Like you."

  Queen saw his tears and almost started to cry herself, for his reaction to

  his son was more than she had ever hoped might be possible. But still she

  was angry with him, and loved him, all at once.

  "I had enough of yo' sweet talk to last me a lifetime," she said, and

  turned away from him. It was then that she saw that the strikers and the

  guards were smiling at her, laughing even, and her anger churned. She

  rounded on Davis.

  "You got any idea what it's like for a woman, stuck on her own with a baby,

  no man to turn to?" Like a festering boil, all the disappointments and

  deprivations of her life, the loneliness and injustice, the hurt and the

  misery, come to a hot and angry head, and were lanced by his tears. She was

  yelling at him now, and at the guards and strikers, and at all men.

  "I trusted you," she cried. "But, oh, you men, you gets what you want, and

  then the hell with us women. You could have told me. You could have

  written, but not even a word, or a letter-"

  "I cain't write, you know that!" Davis said, trying to control his temper.

  He had not expected her wrath, and he was hurt by it, and guilty.

  "Could've sent a paper with yo' mark on it," Queen retorted. "That would

  have been something-"

  Suddenly he couldn't control his temper. His men were

  QUEEN 697

  laughing almost openly, and his anger raged within him, and matched her

  own. He gave Abner to a guard, marched to her, grabbed her and kissed her

  violently, harshly, beautifully, on the mouth, but she pulled away from

  him.

  "That's my mark!" he cried. "You had that! You got that! "

  He would not let her go, and kissed her again. And this time she

 
responded to him, and kissed with all the passion that a life of

  frustration and a year of missing him, of loving him, and wanting him,

  and not having him, had engendered within her.

  The shack was small and sparsely furnished, one room with a sleeping area

  separated from the rest by a curtain. He brought her inside and dismissed

  the strikers. They sat together for a while hardly talking, content to be

  with each other. He rocked Abner to sleep on his lap, and the boy was

  secure in his father's arms.

  "He's a fine boy," Davis said.

  "He's yo' son," Queen nodded.

  He had not asked what had happened to her while they had been apart, but

  now he did.

  "Has it been hard for you?"

  Queen thought for a while before responding. It had been hard, but she

  had bome it, and now she had her reward.

  ... Tain't been easy," she said softly.

  "I's sorry," he said. He looked at the sleeping Abner, and Queen

  understood that it was time for something else to happen. She found a

  blanket and made a rough bed for her baby, then faced her man. She went

  to him, leaned up to him, and kissed him. He responded, but then stopped

  her.

  "No," he said. "Do nothing. I owe you love."

  He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and laid her down. With

  infinite care, singing her soft crooning lullabies, he touched her,

  stroked her, kissed her, and each time she tried to respond, he told her

  no. Slowly, taking forever, he freed her from her clothes, and himself

  from his own. When she lay naked before him, he traced his tongue over

  her entire body until he tasted every inch of her, and with his fingers

  caressed her hair, her eyes, her mouth, her chin, her breasts, until she

  698 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  thought she must faint from the beauty of it. He lay beside her, and the

  warmth and hardness of him pressing against her was wonderful. She opened

  her body to him, and her heart and her soul, and when they were joined as

  one flesh she felt complete again, and whole, and all the trammeling care of

  her life disappeared into a blaze of happiness that engulfed her.

  Afterward, they dozed together for a while, and when she awoke he was still

  there, it had not been a dream. But a sadness had settled on him.

  "I cain't ask you to stay," he whispered. "It ain't safe."

  "I don't care," she cried softly.

  "I care," he told her. "I will not have harm come to you. Or him."

  She shivered in fear for him, and he held her close.

  "Should I be scared for you?" she whispered, and he could not hide the

  truth from her. Too much was at stake.

  "Why not?" he said. "I scared for me."

  He wanted to rid her of her immediate fear, and explain the high, bright

  future that he saw.

  "This is where it begins," he said. "This is where the black man draws the

  line, and says enough, no more. This is where the promise that was made

  must be fulfilled."

  She believed him, and would have followed him to the end of the earth.

  Morning mist lazed over the river. The steel gray of dawn crept into the

  sky, and filtered though the window of the shack. A new day was beginning,

  but still they lay together.

  "I gotta get back," Queen said.

  "She be mad, yo' Missy?" he wondered.

  Queen expected that Mrs. Benson would be mad as hell, but she didn't care.

  A moment with Davis was worth a year of her anger. He made arrangements for

  her safe return to Beaufort, and watched her ride away into the morning

  with his son.

  Davis had been shocked by his decision to desert Queen, although he could

  never exactly pinpoint the moment when he had made up his mind to do it. It

  might have been when she first told him of the child, it might have been as

  they lay making plans for the future, or it might have been as the day

  QUEEN 699

  of leaving approached and the call that he heard to do something else got

  stronger and stronger. He was ashamed at what he was doing to her, but did

  not believe he had any alternative, for the general good was greater than

  her particular need. Queen, he guessed, or knew, or persuaded himself,

  would survive, and while it would be hard for her, she had a friend to

  turn to in Joyce. He also hoped that the sisters would be kind to her, as

  it seemed, in general, they had been,

  He also believed himself to be worthless, and therefore not

  worthy of her. Filled up with rage against the world, which

  rage he contained when he was with Queen for he could find

  no outlet for it, he believed that on ' e day that hate must explode

  into some form of action or violence, and he did not want her

  to be hurt by it. On the appointed day, he left the sisters' house

  early, as had been planned. He went to his shack, put some

  things in a bag, and began walking, away from Huntsville,

  away from Alabama, away from Queen. He cursed himself as

  he walked, and tried to console himself with the concept that

  she had his seed inside her, the best part of him, but did not

  convince himself. He made a vow that he would change his

  wretched ways, that he would actively seek some effective role

  in life, rather than passively accepting what life threw at him.

  Later, when he found that role, he blessed Queen, for it was

  she who had provoked him to it, and he thought of her fondly,

  and his heart ached to see the product of their love.

  He went to Atlanta, and got himself a job assisting a blacksmith, as

  Abram had taught him, and was persuaded by the smithy, who was

  politically militant, to join the local guild. So it was that he found

  his voice, for the sense of brotherhood he obtained in the union was

  miraculous to him. For the first time in his life he felt he was not

  alone, that his grievances and anger were not unique to him. The shared

  sense of purpose, the bloody-minded determination to take what was right-

  fully, morally theirs, by combative action if necessary, thrilled him.

  The words that he had kept contained inside him because he saw no point

  in saying them burst out, and he became, in a short space of time, an

  admired and respected orator, and a considerable asset to the fledgling

  union cause.

  It was the union that sent him traveling, to the center of industrial

  unrest, and it was he who voiced the frustrations and

  700 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  ambitions and dreams of his black brethren. Many of the slaves had been

  dispossessed from their only homes, which were the plantations, they had few

  skills to earn a living in this new world of freedom, and, if they had the

  skills, they were cheated and abused by their new Massas, the bosses.

  He took the high-minded words of the government to heart, and equality had

  genuine meaning for him. He wanted no more than that for his brothers, but

  he was determined to achieve at least that, and to take it forcibly if it

  was not given. He also understood something that set him apart from his
br />   peers, and gave him a purer sense of purpose, a purer power, and a purer

  ability to achieve his goals. He understood that it was not simply a matter

  of black versus white, but of worker against boss. While his speeches were

  directed primarily to blacks, he had the vision to include disgruntled,

  unemployed whites in his embrace, although most rejected him.

  The low-country plantations of Georgia and South Carolina grew rice and

  fermented trouble. In this swampy land of tidal rivers and intolerable

  summer weather, of disease and racist attitudes, the working conditions of

  the field hands were intolerable. It was in Brunswick, south of Beaufort,

  that the hands had revolted, as Queen had heard, and refused to obey their

  martinet masters, many of whom were veteran Confederate officers to whom

  the concept of free niggers was intolerable. Race riots had ensued, and

  units of the national guard were called out. The end of slavery, the end of

  an abundant supply of free labor, had revealed that many of the plantations

  were not economically viable, and so the hands were employed in vile

  conditions that bordered on paid slavery. Instead of being given their

  meager wages in cash, the hands were given checks that could be redeemed

  only at plantation stores, and so they were feudally bonded to their

  employers. Without specie, cash money, they could not survive, as there

  were few other jobs for unskilled men, and for most of them, the land was

  the only labor they knew. Davis had come to Beaufort to try to improve

  their conditions, but the plantation owners were completely resistant to

  change, claiming they could not afford it, and even more resistant to

  unions and a leader from somewhere else who incited their niggers to rebel,

  or inspired disturbing ambitions.

  QUEEN 701

  Davis was no revolutionary. He did not want to overthrow the system; he

  wanted the working black man's place within the system to be recognized.

  It was a fine distinction, which many whites who heard him speak refused

  to recognize, and to many he represented a potential for intolerable

  violence. The horrors of the French Revolution, the destruction of an

  entire class system and its egalitarian aftermath, were the foundation

  of the fears of the white ruling class, and the winds of industrial and

  social change that were sweeping through Europe fanned those fears into

  fires of burning resentment against anyone who spoke of equality, of race

  or class.

  Yet there was hope. A black man in Beaufort, encouraged by Davis, was

  determined to stand for mayor, and given the preponderance of newly

  enfranchised black voters, he might very well win. This prospect was

  deeply shocking to the whites, and, desperate as they were to find some

  focus for their rage, some scapegoat, Davis was increasingly and un-

  realistically seen as the single engine of black ambition. Davis laughed

  at the attention, for no one man was responsible for these surging

  changes; they were the consensus of the many. But he knew he could direct

  the general mood to particular ends.

  He also knew it was dangerous, and that the bosses, and many of the white

  working class, could not let the situation in Beaufort continue. A

  showdown was approaching, and Davis was ready for it, and did not fear

  its possible consequences.

  Until Queen came to him.

  When he saw Queen standing in the moonlight outside his shack, his child

  in her arms, his heart sank. She was part of his past, the other him, and

  was safe there from danger. There was no place for her in his new life,

  because that might bring harm to her, or the boy, and he could not bear

  the thought of anything happening to her. She had suffered enough, and

  partly because of him. His sense of responsibility to her was so profound

  that he wanted her gone, even though her going would pain him as no fire

  ever could.

  But she was there, and he could not resist his heart. He had taken her

  to him, and loved her as well as he could because he owed her so much.