Queen (81 page)

phoid in the summer, and Julie and some others had suc

cumbed to it. Polly was gone, fled with a field hand. Since

Tom Parsons, the replacement overseer, had mysteriously dis

appeared, discipline among the field slaves had fallen apart,

and several had run away. There were slave catchers, but they

were mostly old men and young boys, and the number of

runaways in the district so large that there was little hope of

any but a few being recaptured. Mitchell had tried to help, but

he was old, his arthritis troubled him badly, and he had simply

stopped coming to The Forks. Pattie was still there, but she

was not young, and was always sick. She was shamming,

Queen was sure, but had no way of proving it. Poppy had

    490 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

taken over the cleaning, but the big house was too much for her; she

grumbled and complained, and shirked her duty, and spent most of her days

loafing in the laundry room.

    Mrs. Henderson was worse than useless, constantly demanding help from the

    slaves, and as constantly telling Sally and Lizzie to use the whip to

    maintain discipline. Queen was the most common target of her waspishness,

    for Mrs. Henderson thought the girl was uppity and should be kept in her

    place. Queen was scared of Mrs. Henderson, for she still had authority

    as the overseer's wife, even though he was away. She could tell terrible

    lies to the Massa and Henderson when they returned, and possibly have

    Queen whipped, which she had threatened to do herself.

    The house had to be run and the cotton had to be picked, and there

    weren't enough able-bodied people left to achieve either. Parson Dick

    divided his time between the house and the fields, picking like a

    veteran, Cap'n Jack struggled to keep up with him, and Easter helped

    Queen with the cooking for the family. They-had managed tolerably until

    Mary and Little Sally got sick, and then Easter had to spend her days

    nursing them.

    Miss Lizzie was worse than useless, imaging herself as mistress of what

    had once been, and now frantic with worry for her babies. Miss Sally

    tried to help, but she was old and walked with a cane, and her eyesight

    wasn't the best anymore, and William had his schoolwork to worry about.

    It fell to Queen to look after Eleanor and baby James, who, mercifully,

    hadn't caught the diphtheria, and it was Queen who went out into the

    fields and yelled at the slaves to pick cotton. Sally had called on Massa

    Tom Kirkman for help with the harvest, but he couldn't find any extra

    hands. Every plantation had a similar problem, and most of Tom's family

    were gone, his older sons enlisted, his daughters married and caring for

    their own families, his wife, Elizabeth, nursing in Richmond, and his

    younger children trying to run their own house. He had organized a picnic

    at The Forks one Sunday, and brought with him several friends and

    relations. They made a party and picked cotton, the whites out there in

    the field with the blacks; it had been tremendous fun, and they'd

    gathered a good crop, but it was a drop in the ocean of what had to be

    done, for the harvest was bountiful that year.

    QUEEN 491

    And it all had to be picked because they needed the money. The

    Confederate dollar was worth only sixty-seven cents of a Yankee dollar,

    and was dropping like a stone every day. The price of cotton had fallen

    because of the blockade of Southern ports, and so they needed every boll

    they could get.

    The fields spread white to the horizon, and the gold that cotton once had

    been became a curse to Queen. If it was not picked soon, it would rot and

    be useless.

    She sighed, and bent her aching back to the task. Because she was so

    tired she didn't get enough sleep, and because she didn't get enough

    sleep she was always grumpy, and because there was so much to do, she

    didn't know what task to attend to first. Except to pick cotton.

    Today she had baby James and Eleanor with her, because Easter was tending

    the invalids. They were no trouble, James slept happily in the little

    wooden cot that Queen had once used, and Eleanor played at the side of

    the field, and watched over James, but they were an added responsibility,

    and she had to go to them every hour at least, and see to their needs.

    If only Jass would come. The letter said it would be at least a month

    before he returned, and Queen didn't know how to cope for another four

    weeks. Or even one.

    As she picked, she grumbled, enumerating her woes to God. Parson Dick

    laughed at her, and told her it was a waste of time-God was white and

    didn't listen to niggers-but Queen told him to mind his business. Parson

    Dick laughed again, and stretched his back. He looked at the acres of

    cotton that still had to be picked, and wondered why he bothered. Who

    would whip him now, if he did less than he had to? He could run away,

    flee with his darling Ruby, and probably avoid the slave catchers, but

    where would they go, who would employ them, how would they live? Nothing

    had changed. Between them and any safe haven was the whole hostile

    territory of the Confederacy, and sympathy for runaway slaves was

    nonexistent. Those that had gone were fools, Parson Dick thought; a few

    might make it to the North, but most would be recaptured and imprisoned

    or pressed into further labor by unscrupulous whites.

. So Parson Dick stayed, and because he had formidable resources of pride

in himself, he put his hand to any task that

492 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

came his way, and did it with a will. The other slaves were grumbling at

their increased work load, and slowing down when they needed to speed up,

for cotton was their bread and jam in these uncertain times.

    What they needed was a Massa, and since no Massa was there and Queen had

    too much else to worry about, Parson Dick took on the role of leader. He

    started to sing, softly at first, a work song, and soon it caught on and

    lifted everyone's spirits, for this much, at least, was as it had always

    been. They were picking cotton.

The calming sound of the work song drifted to the house. Sally heard it

and it cheered her soul. It was the first positive thing, no matter how

tiny, that had happened since Jass went away. The absence of the Massa had

created a void in all their lives, which no one could fill, but now he was

coming home and everything. was going to be all right again. That he was

wounded distressed her; that he was out of the army did not. He had done

his duty, and was needed here, for home was the battlefront now.

    The letter from Jass had arrived the previous evening, Torn had brought

    it, and Sally had struggled to read it in bed, but her eyesight was too

    bad. She had forced Queen to read it to her that morning, when they were

    alone in the kitchen after breakfast. Queen still denied she could read,

    although everyone knew it was a lie, and, as Sally had said to her, who

    would whip her for it now?

    She wondered if Queen had told the other slaves that Jass was coming

    home, and that was why they were singing the work song, but she guessed

    not. The return of the Massa had little meaning for the slaves.

Upstairs in the nursery, Lizzie heard the distant song, but it brought her

no solace.

    It wasn't fair of God to let her babies die. He couldn't be so cruel!

    Yet they were dying, Lizzie knew. Mary and Little Sally had diphtheria,

    and there was nothing anyone could do. She'd nursed them for days, wiping

    their fevered brows, praying for their return to health, sleeping in a

    chair beside them, so they would know their mother was always near.

    QUEEN 493

    She was so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep, but she couldn't sleep

    until her little ones were better. Or gone. But they couldn't go, not

    yet; she had to make them hold on, just for a little while longer,

    another few weeks, because Jass was coming home, and when he came back

    they'd get better, because when he came back everything was going to be

    all right again.

Easter was with her, bathing the sweat from Little Sally's

face. The child's breathing was labored, and Lizzie was in

despair. I

    "She's slipping away, I know she is! Do something, Easter," she begged

    the slave.

    "Nuttin' we can do, Miss Lizzie," Easter said softly. ... Cept pray. "

    Anger at her own inadequacy to help her children swept over Lizzie, in

    mounting hysteria. She got to her feet, moaning, and paced around the

    room, looking frantically for something to do.

"We can't just sit here! My poor babies-" she cried.

    "Hush, now, Miss Lizzie," Easter said. She got up from the bed, and took

    Lizzie by the shoulders to calm her.

    But Lizzie's fury exploded. Her frustrated passions finally found a

    focus. She hit Easter's comforting arms from her.

    "Don't you touch me, you nigra slut," she screamed. "You want my babies

    to die. You don't care about them; all you care about is your brat,

    Queen! Haven't you had enough from me'? You stole my man! Now you want

    my babies dead, too!"

    There was no consistency in her thinking; all of her hurt over the years

    and all of her present impotence came flooding out. She ranted and

    whimpered by turns, her arms flailing uselessly.

    Easter, not knowing what else to do with the hysterical woman, slapped

    her hard across the face.

    Lizzie was stunned. She could not believe a slave, this slave, had

    touched her, struck her.

    "How dare you," she whispered vehemently. "I'll have you whipped, I'll

    have you sold away. Get the oveiseer!"

Easter remained calm.

    "Ain't no overseer here, Miss Lizzie," she said. "There's only us, now,

    We got to help each other."

494 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    The simple, calming truth of it forced its way into Lizzie's fractured

    mind, and for the first time she genuinely understood the fact of their

    appalling circumstances. Her passion spent, she slowly dissolved into

    tears, and folded into Easter's arms.

Easter led her to the chair and sat her down.

    "There now," she said. "You sit here with your babies. I get you some

    broth."

    Lizzie nodded, still crying, and took Little Sally's hand, held it to her

    cheek, while Easter caressed her the while, and then left the room.

    Through all the days of her children's illness, it had never occurred to

    Lizzie that Easter was almost as sick as they.

    Halfway down the stairs, Easter felt faint, and leaned against the wall for

    support. It was only a fever, she told herself, it would pass. She was

    flushed and sweating, and a wave of nausea passed through her. She had to

    sit down on the stairs.

    She didn't know how long she sat there, but after a little while she felt

    better, and hauled herself to her feet. As she did so, there was a scream

    of distress from the nursery. Easter clutched the banisters and started to

    make her way back up.

    Sally came into the hall and tried to climb the stairs, but stumbled a

    little. Easter saw her and went to help.

"Don't worry about me," Sally cried. "The babies!"

    But Lizzie appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying the dead Mary in her

    arms.

    "She's gone," she said simply, and stood there, not knowing what else to

    do.

    Easter ran up the stairs to the nursery. Sally struggled to follow, but

    before she was halfway up, Easter came back out to them.

    She shook her head. Lizzie sank to the floor, keening for her dead

    children.

    All the life-force seemed to drain from Sally, and she let out a great

    animal how].

How could God be so cruel?

They buried the two little girls in the family cemetery. It was a pretty

spot, and peaceful, in a grove of trees, sheltered from the world. The

slaves' graveyard was on a hill a few hundred yards away.

    QUEEN 495

    Cap'n Jack and Isaac had dug the graves the previous day, and the

    preacher came from town to bury the children. Lizzie was very brave and

    didn't cry. Dressed in her mourning black, she seemed to have found some

    unexpected reserves of strength in her grief, and held William's hand

    throughout the service. Mrs. Henderson cared for Eleanor and James,

    because Easter was sick in the weaving house, and Queen was picking

    cotton. William was distressed, but Lizzie was good with him, and told

    him that the babies were in a far happier place.

    When the service was finished, Sally stayed behind and watched Cap'n Jack

    fill in the graves. The sound of earth falling on the tiny coffins

    distressed her, and she wandered away to the grave of James, and wondered

    if he knew what straits they were in.

    "Why did you leave us so soon?" she whispered, and for a moment she

    understood all of Becky Perkins's longings to cast aside this mortal coil

    and lie in eternal bliss with the man she loved.

    It was a warm, gentle evening, and peaceful here, away from the

    tribulations of the world. The presence of her old friend comforted

    Sally's bleakness of soul. Cap'n Jack seemed to understand her mood. His

    work didn't take long, for the graves were small. He laid aside his

    shovel and sat near his old mistress.

    For a while, neither felt the need to speak, and then Sally voiced a

    little of what was in her mind.

    "So many dead," she said, looking about the graveyard. "So many that we

    loved."

"We all got to die, Missy," Cap'n Jack said softly.

    Sally nodded. How long would she live, and what new tribulations were in

    store? But Jass was coming home, everything would be all right again, and

    her thoughts turned to happier times.

    Moved by the reliable presence of the man who was her friend, Sally took

    Cap'n Jack's hand. He was surprised, for whites very seldom touched their

    slaves, but understood her need.

    "We been together a long time," he said. "We seen some things."

    Sally nodded, and smiled. "You knew old Massa before I did," she

    remembered.

496 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    They both thought of the past, when they were young. Cap'n Jack gave a

    wheezy chuckle.

    "R'member how we set him up? I tole you where he went ridin', an' you was

    there, nursing yo' chile, Miss Elizabeth, by yo' first late husband?"

    How could Sally forget? She remembered as if it were yesterday. She saw the

    river, and the tree she sat under with her tiny daughter. She could hear

    the horse's hooves again, as the handsome young Irishman galloped toward

    her. She saw herself opening her dress, ostensibly to feed little

    Elizabeth, but actually so that when James rode by he would see things men

    were not supposed to see, in those days.

    "Showing much more of myself than I should have," she laughed.

    "One took at yo' lovely bosom, an' he was gone, hook, line, and sinker!"

    Cap'n Jack was lost in the same memory.

    "And you saw the same thing because you were hiding behind a bush to make

    sure everything went well." Sally laughed again, and slapped Cap'n Jack

    lightly on the hand. "Oh, we had some times."

    "We surely did," the slave agreed. They sat together in the graveyard until

    it was dusk, and then Cap'n Jack helped Miss Sally home.

When Lizzie got back to the house, she made sure the children were fed, sent

William out to play, and put the young ones to bed. She did all this

herself, with only occasional grumbling assistance and instruction from

Poppy, because Queen and Easter were not there. The children's food wasn't

very good because Lizzie had never cooked so much as a pan of water before,

but the children didn't seem to mind. When Mrs. Henderson, who had

accompanied her, protested that slaves should be doing the cooking, Lizzie

told her, rather sharply, to mind her place. They were her children, and if

Lizzie wanted to feed them herself, that was her business. Mrs. Henderson

sniffed, said she knew where she wasn't wanted, and left with rather ruffled

feathers. Lizzie was pleased with herself. She couldn't stand Mrs.

Henderson, and this was the first time she'd voiced her true feelings.

Later, alone in her room, Lizzie did something she hadn't

    QUEEN 497

done in years. The death of the two children had been a cathartic

experience for her. She had been distressed when tiny Jane had died, but

she was only a few months old. These two had been different, because

Lizzie loved them as little people, not as helpless babies.

    She knew she wasn't going to like what the mirror would tell her, but she

    had never shrunk from it before, and she was brave enough, and honest

    enough about herself, to face the consequences. In any case, she already

    knew what it would say.

    She had behaved badly since Jass left. She hated his going, and the war,

    and she had taken refuge from it by playing her accustomed role as

    helpless mistress to the hilt. But having to cope, alone, with the death

    of the children had made her understand that their world had been turned

    upside down. She realized that, for the duration of the war at least, she

    might have to respond differently to things, because she now understood

    that even when Jass came home, the war was not going to be over, and it

    might all get worse before it got better.

    What surprised Lizzie was that she saw something to be proud of in the

    mirror. She saw that she could cope.

"I shall pick cotton," she told Sally at dinner. Parson Dick, whose hands

were raw and blistered, almost dropped the soup tureen. Sally stared at

her daughter in astonishment, and William giggled.

    "Well, the cotton has to be picked, and we don't have enough hands,"

    Lizzie said defensively, although the only reaction, apart from

    William's, had been silence. "If it rains, the crop will be ruined."

    Parson Dick moved as quickly as good manners would allow to the kitchen,

    and told Queen, who was banging pots on the stove, to come and listen to

    this at the pantry door.

    "Do you think you're up to it?" Sally couldn't imagine Lizzie as a cotton

    picker.

    "I've no idea," Lizzie replied honestly. "I've never done it, I didn't

    think I would ever have to do it, and once this war is sorted out and

    things are back to normal, I don't intend to have to do it again."

    No one said anything, because no one realized she had finished.

498 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    "But the harvest is in danger, and I am the mistress of this plantation."

    Lizzie couldn't bear silence. "If the men are ready to sacrifice their

    lives for our survival, the least I can do is risk a few blisters."

    "Bravo, Mamma," William applauded. "I'll pick cotton, too. "

    Queen and Parson Dick, huddled together at the pantry door, looked at one

    another in amazement.

    "Wonders ain't never going to cease," Queen said, and hurried away to

    prepare the main course, because Sally was ringing the bell.

    "I wish I could help," Sally said. "I feel so useless." She was impressed

    by Lizzie's resolution, and wondered what had wrought this change in her.

    "You're too old to pick cotton, Gran'ma," William laughed, and Sally gave

    him her best "old-fashioned" look.

    "I used to be good at it," she said, knowing it would shock the boy. "We