Queen (74 page)

    indispensable, and now any social function connected with the church saw

    Letitia in command.

    Thus she met a clean and sober young man from Alabama, and on discovering

    that he was unmarried, had prospects, and was looking for a wife, Letitia

    almost wept her thanks to the good Lord for showing her the way out of

    her valley of despair.

"Some more tea, Mrs. Henderson?" Sally asked politely.

    The grace and elegance of the Jackson mansion, and the simple unforced

    authority that Sally possessed by right of rank, breeding, and money, had

    made the new Mrs. Henderson speechless with awe and envy for the first

    few moments of their visit, but she had quickly recovered, determined not

    to let her husband down, and equally determined not to let this rich old

    biddy get the better of her.

450 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    "I think not, Mrs. Jackson," she responded in her plummiest tones,

    learned in the millinery shop. "I believe I have had an elegant

    sufficiency."

    There was a tiny pause while Sally prayed that Jass and Lizzie would come

    home soon and save her from this dreadful creature, but she was gracious.

    "Cake?" she inquired, when she could think of nothing else to say.

    There was a commotion outside, and the sound of horses, and Sally could

    hardly hide her relief.

"I think that's the Massa now," she said.

    Jass, carrying two small boxes with him, was in curiously high spirits,

    given the momentous news that they had learned in Florence. Lizzie was

    weeping at that same news, Mary was weeping because she'd told her mother

    of the incident with the three boys, and William and Queen had been

    severely scolded, and were pretending to sulk.

    Isaac and Polly helped Lizzie and Mary from the coach, and Poppy with the

    youngsters, while Queen and William scampered after Jass.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are waiting, sir," Parson Dick told him.

"Oh, damn," Jass responded. I'd forgotten-"

    Lizzie was already on her way upstairs with Mary, giving orders to Poppy

    about baths for the youngsters, and telling William and Queen it was time

    for their supper. Jass knew he was on his own.

    He went to his study, locked the small boxes in his safe, and strode into

    the sitting room.

    "Sorry, the time slipped away," he announced, kissed his mother, and

    looked at the overdressed, over made-up, overeager woman sitting

    expectantly on the edge of the sofa.

    "Is this your bride, Alec?" He shook hands with Henderson. "You're a sly

    one, keeping such a pretty woman secret."

    Mrs. Henderson was his loyal servant from that moment, and simpered,

    while Sally did her best to hide her amusement.

    "Happened so fast, sir, on my leave," Henderson began, but his wife was

    way ahead of him.

    "Took one look at him and I said to myself, Letitia, I said, that's the

    man for you," she gushed.

    QUEEN 451

Queen and William had hung back from Lizzie's commands and had their ears

to the keyhole of the sitting-room doors. Parson Dick saw a perfect

target, two round little rumps stuck in the air, smacked them both lightly

and ordered them upstairs, where their supper was waiting.

    "Young ladies and gentlemen do not listen at closed doors," he commanded.

    They yelled at his gentle smacks, and giggled their way upstairs.

    When they were gone, satisfied that the coast was clear, Parson Dick

    leaned down toward the same keyhole.

    "My dear mother's heart is broken, of course, that I'm living so far away

    from home, and my poor father"-Mrs. Henderson took out a handkerchief and

    dabbed her eyes--all this talk of war, and me getting wed, his only

    comfort is the gin."

    Jass did not dare look at Sally, but knew he had to give them the news.

    "Then I'm afraid he's going to need rather a lot of comfort," he said

    with a poker face. "Abraham Lincoln has been elected president."

    He remembered his promise to tell Becky, but saw no sense in disturbing

    her evening. He would send Ephraim first thing in the morning.

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    said to myself, Letitia, I said, that's the man for you!" William

    giggled, in fair imitation of Mrs. Henderson's affected tones. "Isn't

    she awful? Why did he marry her?"

    He was already in his nightshirt, and Queen was folding his clothes, as

    she always did.

    "I think he's worse than she is," Queen said. She didn't have much to do

    with the overseer, but whenever they met he was sarcastic to her, and to

    her mother.

"Perhaps they were made for each other." William was

452 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

bored with the subject and sat on the window seat. He was in a curious

mood. The events of the afternoon had excited him. He'd seen plenty of

fights at school, had taken part in several, but had never seen adults

beating anyone up before, apart from when one of the slaves got whipped,

and that didn't count. The short, sharp, ruffian violence of it had

exhilarated him and he had felt like cock of the walk, a few minutes

later, at his ability to cope with the hooligans. The talk of war, the

pounding hysteria when news of Lincoln's election spread like wildfire

from the telegraph office, and the fun of Alec Henderson's matrimony had

invoked some new, exciting emotions in him, which somehow all had to do

with girls. They were on the brink of stirring times just as he was edging

into manhood, and he longed to be older and part of it all.

    He wondered if he was old enough to have a proper girlfriend, not like

    Harriet Peters whom he escorted to Sunday school. Ten years old, she

    sometimes allowed him to hold her hand, and once, sweating with

    embarrassment, he had pecked her on the lips, but she screamed, and

    slapped his face, and told him never to touch her again. Of course, she

    hadn't meant it, and sat next to him at Sunday school the next week, and

    shyly held his hand.

    "I hope there is a war," he said, staring out at the moonlit, winter

    landscape. "It would be such fun." He had an adventurous soul, and found

    much of his life at The Forks boring. Lizzie was trying to mold him to

    be a Southern gentleman in the way that Becky had molded Lizzie to be a

    Southern belle, and William resisted it strongly, He was his father's

    son, and, like Jass when he was young, he wanted adventure, he wanted to

    be a pioneer, like Gran'ma Sally, only there weren't many frontiers left.

    The South Seas, perhaps, or Australia.

    Queen was also thinking of the afternoon, but had a different view. "I

    don't think I'd like war," she said. "It might be dangerous. "

    "Oh, pooh," William laughed. "You wouldn't know very much about it. The

    men would all go off somewhere a long way away, and have a big fight,

    that's all. We'd beat the Yankees, they'd beg for mercy, and then it

    would be over."

    "What if the Yankees won?" Queen wasn't convinced it would be so simple.

    QUEEN 453

    "That isn't possible," William said seriously, "because they'd try to

    free the slaves and God doesn't want that. God's on our side."

    Queen didn't say anything, because there was no point in arguing with

    Massas about slaves, but turned down William's comforter, and made the

    bed cozy with the warming pan.

    William's thoughts turned from war to love again, to Letitia Henderson

    and Harriet Peters.

    "I wonder what it's like to be in love?" That surprised Queen, because

    her mind was still with a possible war. She allowed herself to dream.

    "I'm going to marry a prince on a white horse one day," she said, but

    William laughed.

    "Oh, Queen, don't be silly. You're just an itty-bitty slave girl,"

    William told her, kneeling beside the bed. "Who'd marry you?"

    Queen knelt beside him and said something privately, to God: "Someone

    will, one day."

    William had begun the formal prayers, of lying down to sleep, and souls

    being kept. His soul, and his family's, and even the soul of Harriet

    Peters. Not Queen's soul, of course, because nigras didn't have souls.

    His papa had told him that, years ago.

    "And please let's have a jolly fine war that lasts a long time," he ended

    up, but wondered if God would approve of his prayer, so he added a little

    charity. "But only let Yankees get killed."

    In case that wasn't enough, he added a little more. "And send someone

    nice for Queen."

"Amen," both prayed, and laughed.

    William climbed into the big four-poster with its warmed sheets and cozy

    blankets, while Queen snuggled into the uncomfortable pallet at the foot

    of the bed.

    "Good night, Queen," William said affectionately, for they were friends.

    "Good night, Massa Bill," Queen said to her brother. They lay in silence,

    thinking their separate thoughts. Queen seldom voiced hers, because it

    was not her place, but told her feelings to her good friend God.

"If the war doesn't last very long, I won't be old enough

454 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

to fight," William lamented softly. "So where shall I find adventures? I

suppose I could become a missionary or something-"

    He was lulled to sleep by the balmy breezes of tropical islands, and the

    image of himself saving Harriet from some niggers who were cooking her in

    a big pot.

Queen could not go to sleep so easily that night. She didn't mind William's

jibes about her matrimonial prospects, she was used to being called "an

itty-bitty slave girl" because she was tiny and a slave, but she knew a

handsome prince was waiting for her somewhere in the world, and not very far

away. This night, she had other things to think about. Like many of the

slaves, she knew that events of some importance to her life were in train,

but she could not fully appreciate what they were, because she heard only

one side of them.

    The slaves in the kitchen talked about war, and even though they had no

    experience of it-what they knew was learned from other, older, field slaves

    who might have served with their Massas in the Mexican War-the stories

    didn't seem to fit with William's idea of one big battle a long way away.

    Mexico was a long way away-Queen wasn't exactly sure where it was-but she

    knew there'd been more than one big battle. Her gran'pappy had stories of

    war, too, and someone called Massa Andrew fighting the Injuns and the

    British, and those wars seemed to last a long time, and lots of people got

    hurt. She had heard Miss Sally and Julie making all sorts of plans for

    extra provisions to be put in the cellar, "just in case," but if William

    was right, then just in case of what? If the fight happened a long way

    away, why were they stocking up with food here at The Forks? Was the fight

    going to be near here? The idea of war and battles close to the big house

    really scared her, especially if the soldiers were like the boys who had

    accosted her that afternoon.

    God's role in a possible war confused her most of all. She loved God as the

    Massa and Miss Lizzie and her mammy and gran'pappy and Miss Sally and

    everyone told her she should, but if God was on the side of the South, did

    that mean He wanted Queen to be a slave for all her life? Whenever she

    asked anyone questions about God and some of the confusing

    QUEEN 455

things He did, they all told her He moved in mysterious ways, and

obviously that was true. She tried to imagine what God looked like, and

saw an image of a big, cross old man with a long white beard, and

thunderbolts in his hand, but that wasn't very comforting, and she was

taught that God was love. The greatest love she could think of was for her

pappy, and so she drifted to sleep dreaming she was tying in the Massa's

arms, safe in the love of God.

Sally could not sleep. The news of Lincoln's election to the presidency

had come as something of an anticlimax to her. Like a gathering storm, it

had been on the horizon for months, sweeping toward them with increasing

and inexorable certainty, but now that it had happened and had not plunged

them immediately into war, it was something of a relief. Not that the

danger was past, but Buchanan was still in the White House, it would be

four months until Lincoln actually took office, and perhaps, in that time,

sanity could prevail. She guessed that some states, at least, would go

through the initial processes of secession. South Carolina had called a

state convention to begin the process even before the election results

were known, but South Carolina had threatened withdrawal from the Union

before, and had always backed down. And no one, surely, wanted war, no one