Queen (45 page)

    with the female slaves, while Cap'n Jack, Samuel, and Ephraim bunked in the

    bam.

    The next morning, James took Jass to Colonel Elliot's stud farm, although

    really it belonged to James, and the colonel was in his employ. Jass was

    allowed to trot Leviathan around the ring, and thri ' Iled to the beauty

    and power of the animal. He was even more pleased that his father included

    him in the business discussions, and he started to feel a sense of the

    scope of what would one day be his. Most of the talk was about improving

    the bloodlines of the horses, and Jass shared the general excitement when

    James agreed that the colonel could begin negotiations to purchase Glencoe,

    the most famous stallion in England.

    That afternoon, the Donelsons gave a formal reception for those

    out-of-towners who had arrived, and Jass was exhilarated, treated for the

    first time as his father's heir. He was only slightly disappointed that

    Lizzie wasn't there, as the Perkinses were not arriving till Thursday. It

    was the first time that Jass understood the size and complexity of the

    network of Southern families, either blood- or business-related. His

    father's description of the clans being gathered seemed exact, for cousins

    who had only heard of each other had the chance to meet, daughters of great

    estates had to be introduced to potential suitors, new friendships were

    formed and old relationships elaborated on.

    Births, marriages, and deaths had to be enumerated, the former

    congratulated, and the latter condoled. For the most part, this followed a

    rigorous recitation of accepted ritual, but Jass was enchanted by old Mr.

    Morissey, a distant friend of his

    MERGING 269

mother's and. wealthy associate of his father's. Morissey's brother, an

acknowledged rogue, had disappeared to Texas after a shady financial

scandal. Now news of his death in some settlers' battle with the Mexicans in

Texas had reached the family, which somewhat redeemed his honor. But old Mr.

Morissey, who was ancient of days, acutely deaf, and rode in a Bath chair

pushed by a slave, would have none of it.

    "I'm so sorry about Nicholas," Sally yelled into his ear trumpet. "Whatever

    for?" Mr. Morissey yelled back, assuming the rest of the world to be as

    hard of hearing as he. "The man was a scoundrel. I trust he met an

    unpleasant end and is dancing at the sharp end of Satan's pitchfork." Jass

    giggled, and turned away.

    Easter, watching from the sidelines in the protective shadow of Cap'n Jack

    and Angel, was overawed by it all. She had never seen such a parade of

    obvious wealth or felt such blatant and innate power accumulated in the

    hands of a very small group of people. Receptions at The Forks of Cypress

    were grand, but paled to insignificance compared with this. Open landaus

    delivered streams of superbly attired men and their richly dressed wives.

    Beautiful young women in gorgeous gowns were everywhere, most of them

    dancing around Jass, Easter thought, and realized that this was his natural

    world. Hope of his being any kind of constant figure in her life was

    limited to one certainty: He was her Massa and she his slave.

    Even the other slaves present inhibited her, for many of them looked and

    behaved as if they were far grander than those who owned them. Many were

    almost as well dressed as their Massas, and their manners were flawless.

    Parson Dick might have been confident in their company, but Easter felt

    like a field hand and saw her father as a country bumpkin. Easter looked at

    her simple linen frock and determined that she would wear only her muslin

    when she went out again.

    Angel hardly left Sally's side, and Cap'n Jack had old friends to talk to,

    so Easter was left on her own. Standing under a tree, she was wishing the

    ground would open and swallow her up, when she heard a voice.

"Ain't you the prettiest thing?"

    An extremely handsome young slave was staring at her. Tall and dignified,

    only a few years older than herself, he might

270 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

have been the stuff of Easter's dreams if they had not been running in

another direction.

Easter was mortified, and had no idea what to say.

    "Cat got yo' tongue?" the young man asked, still smiling. "I's Reuben, I's

    with the Murphys of Virginia."

    It was an invitation to introduce herself, she knew, but Easter, after

    another glance at the sophisticated company, was petrified. So she ran away

    and found a hiding place behind the big house, and didn't come out until

    she heard Angel and Cap'n Jack calling for tier because it was time to

    leave. She never told them why she had disappeared so abruptly, but she

    determined she was not going to spend the rest of the week in such misery,

    and wondered if Jessica, the Kirkman inaid, had a dress she could borrow.

    Cap'n Jack had not vet seen Alfred, but James gave him permission to do so

    that evening, and, if necessary, to spend the night at the Hermitage.

The Kirkman house was only three miles from the Hermitage, but Cap'n Jack

took a long detour through town. He thrilled to see how Nashville had grown.

There were even stone buildings now, and streets he hardly recognized.

Imposing houses with wel I-establ i shed gardens stood on blocks of land

that had been farms not so many years ago. Well dressed, walking alone in

what had become a place he didn't know and scarcely remembered, Cap'n Jack

was able to pretend, for a while, that he was a free man, with his paper of

manumission in his pocket instead of his Massa's travel pass.

    Little had changed at the Hermitage, though. The gardens were still

    beautifully tended, and the weathering of the years had aged the house and

    given it a sense of permanence, as if it had always stood there, and always

    would. Still, Cap'n Jack felt a little unsure of himself. It was late,

    nearly twilight, and none of the gardeners was working, nor anyone who

    might have remembered him. If it were not for the few lamps burning inside

    the house, he would have thought it deserted. He wasn't sure where Alfred

    would be. In the old days, the slave lived in the big house with his Massa,

    but now that Washington was his home and he was only a visitor here, Cap'n

    Jack wondered if he should go to the slave quarters first.

    MERGING 271

A wheezy chuckle solved the problem for him.

    "Why, yo' ol'-!" It was Alfred, coming out to greet him from the kitchen.

    He hadn't changed much. Although his hair was gray, his face was

    unwrinkled, and his eyes sparkled with welcome. Cap'n Jack felt an enormous

    sense of relief. Whatever else had changed in his world, Alfred was a

    constant.

    "Yo' young buzzard!" he called as happily, though Alfred was several years

    his senior. The men shook hands warmly, and embraced, and Alfred led him to

    the kitchen to eat.

    The family, young Massa Andrew and Missy Sarah, were out visiting, and had

    taken Gracie with them, so they had the place to themselves. They gossiped

    about old times and new, and of the cooling of the friendship between their

    two Massas.

    "Ain't evuh gwine be like it was," Alfred said. "Massa Andrew old, an' he

    think yo' Massa done him wrong."

    His mind was full of his Massa, and the gossip from Washington.

    "Weren't fight to come," he said. -01' Massa Andrew sick; he need me there.

    Ain't nobody else c'n look after him like me."

    He turned away, as if worried about Andrew, but then chuckled.

    "He tole me I had to git wed here," he said. "It yo' home, Alfred, he said.

    It's where yo' gwine die and be buried; it's fittin' yo' be wed there too."

He paused again.

    "I don't like leavin' him there on his ownsome," he said. "He old."

    The cook had fed them and ignored them, but now she roared that she was

    sick of the pair of them cluttering up her kitchen. Alfred roared back at

    her, but winked at Cap'n Jack, and they said their good nights to her, and

    made their way to the little room in the slave quarters where Alfred was

    staying.

    "Still got my room in the big house," he said, "but all these folk in town,

    weren't nowhere's for Gracie, so she in it. I in here."

    He winked. "Got summat else, too." He rummaged in his trunk and found a

    bottle of moonshine.

"Speshul occashun," he chuckled wheezily.

272 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    Cap'n Jack laughed in anticipation. Usually they were forbidden to drink

    liquor, but Alfred's special status made it unlikely they would be

    reprimanded if caught. They could get drunk, just the two of them, and for

    this night at least, it would be like the old days.

    And it was, it was, for a while. Warmed by the liquor, they talked of times

    past, and of Gracie, Alfred's bride-to-be, who had astonished everyone when

    she accepted his offer of marriage, for she was twenty years younger than

    he.

"Glad I waited all these years," Alfred sighed happily.

    They were drunk now. Alfred's smile faded, and he looked at Cap'n Jack.

    "Time you got hitched agin," he said, "afore you're too ol'."

    "Never found the right woman." Cap'n Jack didn't want to think about Annie,

    and had another swig of moonshine.

    Alfred wasn't easily distracted. "Only time Massa James evuh did you

    wrong," he said, "sellin' Annie away."

    ... T weren't the Massa, 't were the overseer," Cap'n Jack insisted. "An'

    I got Easter to remember her by."

Alfred shook his head and laughed at the lie.

    "Massa's in charge," he said. "Give overseer the aut'ority. All white

    Massas the same, don't give a hoot 'bout niggers, cept to work theirselves

    to the grave for 'em. An' beyond."

    Cap'n Jack was puzzled, but thought it was the liquor. Death was the end of

    their bondage. Not even white Massas had authority over death.

    Alfred had another swig of moonshine. He struggled to his feet.

"Oops," he said. "I ain't 'zackly my nat'chrel self."

    He giggled, but there was no humor in it. "C'm here." He beckoned Cap'n

    Jack outside.

    They wended through the gardens, supporting each other, and giggling in

    whispers. Alfred stopped to relieve himself, and looked at the stars.

    ... Tain't fair," he said, and although Cap'n Jack was not sure what he

    meant, he agreed with his friend.

    Alfred led the way to the little cemetery. A pillared monument had been

    built in the center of it, and they stood near it.

    MERGING 273

    1401, Missus," said Alfred, unnecessarily, for Cap'n Jack could read the

    inscription.

    Alfred pointed to the ground beside it. "Ready fo' ol' Massa," he said.

    "ne ol' devil gwine be buried here, next to her. "

"But he won't go to heaven," Cap'n Jack chuckled.

    Alfred was not in a laughing mood. "If'n he wants to he will, and he

    wants to, coz that where she is."

He pointed to a plot of ground only a few yards away.

    "An I gwine be buried there!" he said in sudden fury. "Massa says! You

    ain't evuh gwine get away from me, Alfred, he says. You gwine be buried

    right near me, so's I can yell fo' yo' when I needs yo'."

He turned on his friend.

    ... Tain't fair! I cain't get way from him in life and I cain't get away

    from him when I's dead."

His mood changed abruptly, and tears came to his eyes.

    ... Tain't fair," he said again. "Massas say they own us niggers body and

    soul."

He looked at his future grave site, and shook his head.

    "An' they do," he said. "They own us livin' an' they own us dead."

    33

On Saturday evening, the great Southern families assembled in Nashville

descended like royalty on the Hermitage.

    Easter was astonished. She had thought the parties during the week were

    wonderful, but they were only rehearsals compared with this. Coachmen and

    footmen were wigged and liveried. The women had saved their finest

    evening gowns for this occasion, and were aglitter with jewels, the men

    all in formal evening wear. Slaves had been borrowed from surrounding

    plantations to line the driveway with flambeaux, although there was still

    light in the sky. A slave choir, assembled

274 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

on the lawn outside the house, serenaded the guests as they arrived.

    Despite many reservations as to the reason for Sarah Jackson's

    invitation, the tacit consensus was that this should be a glittering

    social occasion. The widowed President Jackson did much entertaining in

    Washington, but he was old, and even though Emily Donelson did her best

    as hostess, the affairs were boorish, redolent of the smoking room and