Queen (95 page)

    sequences of that decision, for some sense of reality had dawned on her.

    She had no idea where she would sleep that night, or how she would eat. She

    felt utterly friendless, utterly alone, and it comforted her to sit beside

    the only friend she had ever had.

Sally came to her. Lizzie had told her of the argument, and of Queen's

extraordinary outburst of anger and intention to leave, and Sally had

worried about the girl. She would not try to persuade Queen to stay, but she

could not let her go without some knowledge of her future welfare. She had

seen Queen walking to the graveyard, and had followed her. She stood in the

trees watching the tender farewell from daughter to mother and then moved

forward, to say her own good-bye.

    "Weren't you going to come to say good-bye to me?" she asked Queen, gently.

Queen was embarrassed, and got to her feet.

    -I*m so sorry, my dear," Sally said. "I didn't want it to end like this,

    but I thought it must."

    Queen turned away, feeling some small spark of the anger she had felt when

    Sally first suggested that she go. Why? Why did it have to end like this?

    Because she was nigra and they weren't? She only had a little bit of nigra

    blood in her. Why did that make her black?

    Sally might have guessed her thoughts, or perhaps she felt the need to

    explain why Queen's position was untenable. Not just for here, but for her

    future, for the girl was impulsive, and had good reason for complaint. She

    looked white. She was so very nearly white.

    QUEEN 577

    "Wherever you go, Queen," she said, "you must remember that it isn't enough

    to be nearly white, as you are. Even one drop of black blood makes you

    nigra."

    Queen did not understand Sally's purpose, and said nothing. If she was

    nigra, why had the blacks in the forest rejected her, as the field hands

    did? Only Pearl had been kind to her, but Pearl, although darker than

    Queen, was not black.

    Sally held out a small purse of money. "I don't want it," Queen said.

    "You always were a stubborn girl!" Sally tried to laugh. "Take it. We owe

    you this much, at least."

    Queen saw the truth of it, and took the purse. She had, in all fairness,

    earned at least this.

    "I don't suppose I'll ever see you again, Sally said. "Good luck, my dear."

    It was then that Queen realized an extraordinary thing. Miss Sally did love

    her, in her way, after a fashion. Why else would she be crying? All of her

    anger evaporated, and was replaced by an enormous sense of loss. She hugged

    Sally to her.

"Oh, Missus," she said.

    They walked down the hill together, Sally using Queen's arm for support,

    and when they got to the house Sally wished her luck again, and said

    good-bye again, and hugged her again, and then went inside.

Queen took a last look at the house, and then set off down the drive. She

didn't look back, even when she turned out of the gate, but paused for a

moment, wondering where to go. It was not a difficult decision. South would

take her past the Hendersons, which was unthinkable. North would take her to

Florence. She turned left, to go north.

    She hadn't gone very far before she heard a horse riding up behind her, and

    for a moment she was scared, thinking it might be one of her pursuers come

    for her in daylight, but there was nowhere to run now, so she turned to

    face the rider.

    It was Jass. He had seen her from a distance away, from behind, and from

    her clothes and her suitcase he made a guess that she was leaving. But

    mostly, he was relieved to have found her.

    "Queen," he called out. "Where have you been? I've been looking

    everywhere."

578 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

    She was pleased to see him and not pleased to see him. Frightened that he

    would let her go, scared that he would not let her leave.

141's leaving," she said. "For good."

Jass glanced at his house, where Lizzie was.

    "Miss Lizzie?" he asked her, but Queen said nothing, and he knew the

    answer.

    It was for the best; it solved so many problems. Queen was part of his

    past, part of the South's past; there was no real place for her in his new

    life. It would solve so many problems for her, too, and make things very

    much easier with Lizzie. But he would miss her.

    "Are you all right? Do you have money?" he asked, and she nodded.

-You can take a horse," he said. "It's too far to walk."

"I'll manage," she replied.

    There was nothing else to say. What could he say? Only good-bye.

"I'll miss you," he said.

    She almost broke. At that moment, she would have changed her mind, she

    would have gone back, put up with Miss Lizzie's tantrums and too much work

    and too little pay, just to know that he loved her, or cared for her, or

    appreciated her. All he had to do was ask. All he had to do was say one

    little thing. He didn't say any of them.

"Good-bye, Queen" was all he said. "Good luck."

    Suddenly, he spurred his horse and cantered away, up the drive to the

    mansion that she had loved, and that she would never see again.

    She watched her father ride home to his family, and then, head high, she

    picked up her suitcase and began to walk away, off on a great new

    adventure, off to a bold, bright somewhere.

When Jass reached the house, he stopped his horse and looked back for a last

glimpse of Queen.

    He'could see her tiny figure trudging away down the road to Florence,

    resolute and brave, and for a moment he was filled with a sense of his own

    failure to her. He wanted to ride after her, call her back, bring her back

    to the place that was her home, but could not.

    QUEEN 579

    He sat on his horse for a long time, long after he could no longer see

    her, hidden by the trees, and he sent up a little prayer to God that she

    find some safe haven.

    Then he rode to the stables, dismounted and tended to his horse, and went

    into the big house, looking forward to his supper. It had been a busy day

    in Florence, and he still had much work to do.

    He seldom thought of Queen again. But sometimes a fragment of memory of

    her came into his mind, and he would smile. And sometimes, when that

    happened, he would take a leisurely walk to the slave cemetery, and sit

    beside Easter's grave, and mourn what he had lost.

    67

The day was hot, and the sun at its zenith, sapping Queen's energy and

resolution. Blisters on her feet, which had begun the previous evening,

were hurting her, and she sat on her suitcase at the side of the road,

took off her shoes, and nursed her aching feet. Why had they built the

house so far from town? How far had she come? How much farther did she

have to go?

    He could have given her a ride. She could have taken a horse. She'd have

    said yes if he'd asked her one more time.

    She began to have doubts about her enterprise. It would be so easy to go

    back, to beg Jass's forgiveness and accept the role she had been cast in,

    but pride, or dignity, or stubbornness, would not let her do that. By her

    reckoning, she was about halfway between The Forks and Florence, so to

    go back was as arduous as to go on. Except that there would be a bed

    waiting for her if she returned, and there was nothing in store for her

    if she went on. Needing some sense of security, she counted out the

    little purse of money that Sally had given her.

    Twenty dollars! It was an unbelievable sum to Queen, who had never had

    any money of her own. It made her, in her own

580 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

mind, rich, and solved many of her immediate problems. She had to find

somewhere to sleep that night, even if it meant spending some of the

precious cash and staying in the old slave quarters at the hotel, so the

sooner she got to Florence, the sooner she could rest. Knowledge of her new

wealth gave her renewed energy, and she got to her feet, sweating in the

blazing sun, and limped on.

    The time came when she had to relieve herself, and she looked around for a

    suitable bush. She always chose the spot with great care, because once

    Parson Dick had gone behind the bam and had peed on a homet's nest. The

    angry insects attacked him, and everyone had laughed at the sight of the

    immaculate Parson Dick running from behind the bam, pulling up his pants

    and being chased by a swarm of angry hornets. She found a tree that looked

    safe, squatted behind it, and did what she needed to. Again she considered

    her options-to go on or to go back-but the relief of her bladder made her

    feel better. She adjusted her clothing and returned to the road, still not

    entirely sure of her purpose, but trusting that something would happen.

    She heard a cart approaching. There had been very little traffic on the

    road that day, and the few riders passing by had ignored her. She prayed

    she might be luckier this time.

    Andy, the butcher's boy, was surprised to see her. He'd been on his rounds

    collecting farm-killed meat, and was heading back to Florence when he saw

    a white lady standing at the side of the road. He reined in the horse, and

    realized that it wasn't a white lady at all, but that light-skinned mulatta

    from The Forks of Cypress.

He drew up beside her, and touched his cap.

    "Miss Queen, ain't it'?" he called cheerfully. "What yo' doin' out here on

    yo' ownsome? Where's yo' hoss?"

    He'd always liked Miss Queen because she was so pretty, and sometimes he

    had fantasies of her pale body lying beside his darker one, but although he

    had an outgoing personality, he was shy of women, and unfailingly polite to

    them. Sometimes he regretted his good manners.

    Queen knew she must took odd, out here all alone with her suitcase, and

    wasn't sure what to tell him. She wondered if a little white lie would

    matter, and decided on a vague version of the truth.

    QUEEN 581

    "It's a long story, Andy," she said. "Y'see, my horse throwed me,

    and--

    It was as much as he needed. "That ain't no good," he said. "I'm gwine

    back to Florence, but I could take yo' back to The Forks."

Queen needed no second bidding, and climbed into the cart.

    "No. Florence will do just fine, thank you kindly," she said. He took her

    suitcase.

"Yo' leavin' the Forks, or summat?" he puzzled.

    "No, Andy, I's jus'-ah-gwine' visitin'," she lied, allowing her speech

    to slur into something closer to Andy's dialect.

    He helped her up, and made space for her beside him, on the little bench

    seat. He flicked the reins, and the patient nag began to walk.

    "Yo' be careful, Miss Queen," he told her. "Some white folk don't take

    kindly to niggers on their ownsome."

    Queen knew that to be true, but didn't have a worry in the world now. It

    didn't matter that Andy, sitting uncomfortably close to her, had a

    problem with his body odor. It didn't matter that the smell of the meat

    inside the cart assailed her senses. It didn't matter that the seat was

    hard and uncomfortable. God had sent her a sign, a chariot and a

    messenger in the form of Andy and his cart. Her decision to go on to

    Florence had been the right one.

    "I's surely grateful yo' came along then," she said, smiling happily. She

    listened gravely to Andy's tales of the dangers of life on the road, but

    inside she didn't stop smiling all the way to Florence.

    Andy offered her more help when they got to the town, even, he subtly

    hinted, a bed for the night, but she maintained her fiction that she had

    people to visit, and thanked him for the ride.

    "Anytime, Miss Queen," he told her. "Anything I c'n do, yo' only got to

    ask."

    He flicked the reins and rode away. Queen stood on the sidewalk and

    looked about her. She hadn't been to Florence since the war started, but

    it hadn't changed much, except that Yankee soldiers were everywhere

    roaming the streets, and they frightened her. There were several hours

    of daylight left, and so she walked away from the main street, looking

    for some-

    582 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

where to eat. It surprised her that a couple of older white men, smartly

dressed, tipped their hats to her as she walked by, until she realized that

they must think her white as well. It made her feel good, and she giggled.

She saw the river sparkling in the distance, and walked toward it. It was

such a lovely day.

    She came to the docks, a wharf and some warehouses, and enjoyed the bustle

    of it all. A ferryboat, an old paddle steamer, was loading cargo, and

    fishermen were bringing in their catch. A couple of street vendors were