Slewfoot

by Brom

  Ansel placed the circlet on the table.

  “There is more,” Ansel continued. “For Wallace, overcome by what he saw, did confront Abitha on her deviant behavior. A most reckless act to be sure, but one predicated on his outrage at this woman for inviting Satan into our community. Upon which she and her imp did cast a spell on him. This, I swear, I saw for my own eyes, as did young Isaac here.”

  Isaac nodded. “She called forth her bees, set them on my father. And they did attack him in a most unnatural manner.”

  Captain Moore held up his hand. “And what say you to this, Abitha?”

  “I say Wallace Williams trespassed on my farm, assaulted me, and broke my leg. I say it is well known that I keep plenty of bees on my land, and when Wallace attacked me he disturbed them. That is all there be to that.”

  “Then why is it that no other were stung that day?” Ansel asked. “Young Isaac and myself were there beside Wallace. Yet neither of us suffered a single sting.”

  “I know not. But I do know, as do many here, that Wallace has been trying to steal my land. That he burned my corn and barn, all in an attempt to gain my property. Does his motive not play some role in his accusations? Does he not deserve some scrutiny for his desire to ruin me?”

  “Wallace is not on trial here, woman!” Ansel barked. “He did not cast a spell. Did not conspire with the Devil’s familiar. It were you! Only you!”

  “No!”

  Ansel spun, returned to his table, grabbing the sack and dumping out the remaining contents—a few sheets of rolled parchment and about a dozen charms and totems. Using his gloved hand, he picked up a handful of the charms. Held them up for all to see, then out toward Abitha. “Did you make these?”

  “I did.”

  “Are they not the hand of the Devil?”

  “They are not. They are but common charms and blessings. Each delivered with the Lord’s prayer. Such as many here have made.”

  He approached the six women and girls seated in the front row, held out the charms. They all cringed.

  “Charity, would you hold these?”

  Charity looked at Ansel, mortified. “Please, sir. Do not make me touch it again.”

  “Jane, Mary, Rebecca, Helen, Lydia, would any of you hold these?”

  They all shook their heads, clutching their hands to their chests and adamantly refusing.

  “And why not? Why are you so afraid of mere charms and blessings?”

  “Because it burns me!” Charity cried.

  “Aye, yes!” the other women and girls agreed. “It burns our flesh.”

  “Your magistrate,” Ansel said. “This is no exaggerated claim. Upon public revelation of Abitha consorting with the Devil, the moment her black magic was called out, these very charms spontaneously burned these innocents here before you. Not one, but all of them. Before many witnesses. How, I ask you, could such a thing be? For six honest and pious members of our church to be afflicted all at once if not witchcraft of the highest order?”

  “Abitha,” Captain Moore called. “If these are but charms as you have claimed, why then do they burn them so?”

  Abitha shook her head. “They do not burn them. They are but saying such because they are afraid. Afraid to be accused of consorting with me. Afraid to admit that they solicited such charms. That is all.”

  “Not true,” Charity cried, shaking her head adamantly. “Not true. She lies!”

  “Aye! Aye, not true!” the other girls cried, their eyes darting about fretfully.

  “These girls have sworn before God.” Ansel held up the parchment. “Given accounts on how you tempted and seduced them with fanciful promises, tricking them to partake in the Devil’s magic.”

  “Aye!” Charity Williams cried. “She did. I swear to it. She spoke to me, whispered in my ear at night while I were sleeping. I swear it. I swear it!”

  “Aye!” Mary cried. “In a dream.” And then they were all nodding and agreeing, all clutching their skirts and wringing their hands.

  Abitha sneered at them. “And I swear before God that I have never dealt in any form of deviltry.”

  “Then what is this?” Ansel snatched up a sheet of parchment from the pile and unrolled it. He held it up for all to see. There came gasps all around. Women covered the eyes of their children. It was one of Edward’s drawings. The last one he did—the nude of Abitha.

  The picture hit Abitha like a punch to the chest. She clutched her hand over her mouth, fighting back the tears.

  “What is this if it is not deviltry? Here is proof that you bewitched Edward, seducing him with your womanly wiles! Now, look closer, one and all. See that this profanity is scribbled over the very words of Edward’s own father … over his Godly lessons, no less. I ask you, who but a witch could force a man to do such a profane act? She has damned poor Edward’s soul! Has claimed him for her master, Satan!”

  “Blasphemy!” someone cried.

  “Hang her! Burn her!” others shouted, the room taking up the call.

  Magistrate Watson beat his gavel, but the crowd didn’t settle, not until Ansel held up his hand and shouted, “There is more!”

  Slowly the room quieted.

  Ansel put away the drawing and walked over to Abitha. “Do you swear, here and now, that you have not consorted with the Devil’s minion?”

  For a moment Abitha didn’t know what to say, could only stare at Ansel, confused, for she could think only of Samson, that somehow Ansel knew of him.

  Ansel nodded to Deputy Harlow, and the man brought forward a cage covered in cloth. He set it down on the table and Ansel removed the cloth, revealing Abitha’s cat in a small hutch. The animal appeared terrified, hunched down and cowering, its one eye darting fretfully about.

  “Oh, Booka!” Abitha cried. “Oh, you poor thing.”

  “Do not say that name in this place!” Ansel commanded. “It is the name of a known demon.”

  “It is the name of a common pixie. And that … that is but a common cat, you half-wit!”

  Magistrate Watson slammed his gavel. “You will not speak the name of any demons in this place. If you do, you shall be gagged. Is that understood?”

  Abitha didn’t respond, just stared at her cat, wanting only to set the terrified animal free.

  “Your Honor, this wicked beast is the familiar which Wallace, Isaac, and myself witnessed whispering and casting spells with Abitha.”

  “It is but a cat,” Abitha said, shaking her head. “A poor sweet cat. Not anything more.”

  “Goodwife Dibble,” Ansel called. “Please stand.”

  Goody Dibble stood.

  “Goody Dibble, is it true that you witnessed this very beast killed by dogs in Sutton?”

  “Yes, sir. It is true. Seen it with my own eyes, I did.”

  “Did you see Abitha take the corpse home with her?”

  “Aye, she wrapped it up in her apron and took it off.”

  Ansel pointed at Booka. “Goody Dibble, is this creature here the same beast that you saw killed by the dogs?”

  “Aye,” she said, staring wide-eyed at the cat. “There is no doubt.” She pressed her knuckles to her lips. “That there is the Devil’s work!”

  “Indeed, it is,” Ansel agreed.

  “Wallace, Isaac, is this the imp you saw conspiring with Abitha? Helping her make the witch’s crown?”

  “It is,” they both said.

  “It is but a cat!” Abitha cried again. “Not anything more.”

  “It is the Devil’s minion!” Ansel shouted, stepping toward the cage and jabbing his finger at the cat.

  The cat cowed and hissed, and Charity cried out. “It sets its evil eye upon me!” She clutched at her throat. “It hurts. It hurts me so!”

  The other girls looked horrified at Charity, then at the cat, then Mary clutched her own throat. “It hurts me!” Jane glanced back and forth at the two girls and she too cried out, followed by the remaining girls, until all six of them were clutching their throats begging someone to make the ca
t stop.

  Fearful cries burst forth from several in the crowd; a few stood and rushed out. The room erupted in cries and shouts of “Witch!”

  Magistrate Watson beat his gavel. “Remove that foul beast!”

  Captain Moore stepped over, grabbed the cloth, and slung it over the cage, covering the animal and handing it to the deputy, ordering the man to take it outside. As soon as the cat was gone from the room the girls all dropped back into their seats, gasping, shivering, and holding themselves as though suffering from a grave fever.

  Magistrate Watson continued to beat his gavel until eventually the room quieted.

  Ansel pulled out a chair from behind his table and set it in front of the magistrates. He strolled back and forth in front of the congregation, hands clasped behind his back. Finally he stopped, setting his eyes on Martha. “Martha Carter,” he said in a gentle voice. “Would you please come forward.”

  Martha flinched, her face that of a frightened rabbit; she looked anxiously to her parents.

  “Just a few questions,” Ansel added. “There’s naught to be afraid of. You’ve done no wrong.”

  The room came alive with whispers. Reverend Carter and his wife exchanged a concerned look and the reverend stood. “I request a private word with the magistrate, if he would.”

  “Request denied,” the magistrate replied.

  “Then I must state that Martha has not been well of late. She has been very confused and—”

  “Need I remind you,” Magistrate Watson interrupted, “Sutton is under assault by the very Devil, and her aid is essential. Is there any reason the court should be aware of that you would not wish your daughter to help us?”

  Reverend Carter started to say more, then a look of extreme frustration crossed his face and he sat back down.

  Martha gave Abitha a quick terrified look, appeared afraid to move.

  Ansel came to her. “Fear not.” He spoke in a low, reassuring voice. “She cannot harm you. Not ever again.” Martha stood, and Ansel led her to the chair.

  “Martha,” Ansel said, keeping his voice gentle, coaxing. “Is it true that Abitha came into your house and did visit you at your bedside?”

  “Yes,” she said in little more than a whisper.

  “And that she did enter your house at the behest of your mother?”

  “Yes.”

  “Martha, I know this might be hard for you, but would you please tell us all you remember of this visit?”

  Martha’s eyes dropped to her hands. “Well,” she started. “It is hard to speak of.” She glanced back at her parents. “Mayhap as my father said … I were ill … confused … and do not remember so clearly.”

  “Martha,” Ansel said, his voice becoming firm. “Keep your eyes on me. This is not about your mother or father … this is about God and the Devil. This is about a war for your soul. You must state true, lest you give Satan dominion over you. If Abitha has infested you with her demons, we must find out or we cannot protect you.”

  Martha began to tremble, to visibly shake.

  “I were very sick. And … and—” She began to cry; her voice cracked. “I know not how or why, but when I did awake—” She pointed at Abitha, her voice becoming hysterical. “She, she stood there beside me! She had hold of my hand and I did see many things! Many awful things!”

  “What did you see?” Ansel demanded. “Tell us, child!”

  “A dark shadow with horns!” she cried. “It did stand behind her!” She began to bawl. “And it touched me … through her … and I have feared since that it lives here!” She clutched her chest. “I am afraid!” She dropped to her knees. “Afraid that it will come back and demand payment. Will demand my soul. Please do not allow it to come back. Please, please save me from it!” She jabbed a finger at Abitha. “From her!”

  “Enough!” Reverend Carter shouted. “Enough! This is too much. She was overcome by fever. Had nightmares. That is all!”

  Sarah Carter rushed to Martha, held her. “You are safe, child. None shall harm you.”

  Shouts and cries erupted all around the room. The atmosphere had changed from one of curiosity to outright terror and hostility. The people no longer bothering to hide their cutting glares and curses. Abitha felt sure, if not for the guards, they would take her and stone her this very minute. And then she wondered if that wouldn’t be a mercy.

  Abitha caught Ansel share what appeared to be a conspiratorial look with the judge. The judge’s lips tightened and he nodded.

  Magistrate Watson pounded his gavel. “Silence. Now!”

  Ansel slid another chair around and set it next to Martha. “Goodwife Carter,” he said. “Would you please take the chair.”

  Sarah appeared not to understand, but she took the chair, putting an arm around her daughter and holding her tight.

  “Goodwife Carter,” Ansel began. “Did you invite Abitha into your home?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you invite her to use magic upon your daughter?”

  “Abitha’s mother were a cunning woman. And Abitha knows many remedies. It is common practice to—”

  “Sarah, a simple question. Did you invite Abitha to use magic upon your daughter?”

  “Not magic, but an ointment. That is all. You must understand, it were dire. We feared the child might be dying. I was desperate to—”

  “Martha, did your mother ask you to keep this visit secret?”

  Martha kept her head down, not looking at her mother. “Aye.”

  Reverend Carter stood up. “I do not see the reason for such a question.”

  “Reverend Carter,” the magistrate called. “You will stay seated and be quiet lest you be taken from the room. Is that understood?”

  The reverend sat down.

  “Goodwife Carter,” Ansel went on. “It seems that you and Abitha have had a history of secrets.”

  “This is not true.”

  “Not true? Did you not exchange things, secret things, with Abitha after church? Hidden things in baskets and folded napkins?”

  “No! I mean yes, but not like that. It were but some food. She—”

  “Did you and your husband not encourage Abitha to craft her dark magic on the Sabbath?”

  “What? No! Of course not.”

  “No? Yet it appears in the church records that Reverend Carter has repeatedly allowed Abitha to skip church.”

  “That is true, but it were on account of her hardship. You must understand that she—”

  “Did you allow Abitha to sell spells and potions in the very house of the Lord?”

  “I did not. I strictly forbid it.”

  “So, you admit that you were aware that Abitha peddled her magic during church.”

  “I forbade it once I found out.”

  “So, you admit you found out she peddled witchcraft and chose to keep this a secret.”

  “N-no,” she stammered. “Th-that is not what I said at all. You twist my words.”

  “Did you encourage Abitha to conjure the Devil in your house?”

  “No!”

  Reverend Carter stood up. “This is an outrage! How dare you ask such a question!”

  The congregation exploded in shouts, cries, and demands to hand over both Abitha and Sarah.

  Magistrate Watson beat his gavel, and the guards quickly moved forward between the crowd and those up front.

  “Court is adjourned,” he shouted. “All those not part of these proceedings are hereby ordered to leave at once! Now out!”

  * * *

  Abitha awaited her sentencing in the small room at the back of the meetinghouse. Two of the magistrate’s guards leaned against the wall by the door, staring at her glumly.

  One of the guards, a burly middle-aged man with a patchy beard and leathery face, going by the name Garret, began to pace. “Ah, cannot believe I got dragged into this mess. My brother is getting married this week and it will be a party not to miss. The lot of them will be getting soused on my father’s good cider, and me—me, I’ll
be here tending this wench. Just cannot believe my luck.” He threw up his hands. “And to add to it. Y’know, it were supposed to be Robert, not me. It being his turn.”

  “Yeah, well,” the second guard, a fellow named Jacob—a clean-shaven, slender young man—responded. “I do not think Robert went and got snake-bit just to shuck his duty.”

  Garret snorted. “Knowing Robert, he probably did.”

  “Well, you’ve done this sort of thing before. Have you not?”

  The older guard nodded. “Aye, I had to go down to Wethersfield few years back. Now, that were a bit of nasty business. They must have poked and prodded and stabbed and burned that poor woman for two weeks and still she would not confess. And you know what?” He chuckled. “After all that, they put her in the water. Y’know, to see if she’d float. ’Cause a witch, she will float on the surface on account that the water is pure and so will reject her … at least that’s what they say. Anyway, the poor woman sank like a rock, she did, and by the time they drug her out … why, she were not breathing no more. So, I guess that means they tortured and drowned an innocent woman. But did you hear anyone apologizing? Trying to make amends? No, sir, the magistrate were back in Hartford that same day, going about business as though nothing ever happened.”

  Jacob shook his head. “Why … that’s not funny. That’s just terrible.”

  “I guess it is.”

  “You do not think this case will go two weeks, do you?” Jacob asked. “I do not much like leaving my Isabel alone that long. She’s got eyes for our neighbor, Daniel. And there’s no telling what trouble she might get up to if I am gone so long.”

  Garret snorted. “That there is a sad predicament. Jacob, my boy, mayhap you should invest in a chastity belt for that one.” Garret laughed, but his friend didn’t appear to share his humor. “Anyway, it’s hard to say how long. Depends on if they want to drag a confession out of her or just hang her straightaway. And if they do want a confession, it depends on how stubborn she is. How much pain she’s willing to endure.” He looked at Abitha. “Hey, lass, you do us a favor, hear. When they ask for your confession, just say yes. All right? Save you and us a whole lot of grief, it will.”

  Abitha turned away, faced the wall.