by Jean Plaidy
Out of her grief grew a mad and uncontrollable rage. She snatched the whip from the hand of the man who had used it; she lifted it and would have struck him had not someone seized her and taken it from her.
She cried out: ‘You have murdered Annis. You have killed my friend. I hate you. I wish I had never seen your smug faces. You are cruel . . . evil and wicked. I hate you. I hate you. I hope you will all rot in hell as you deserve to do . . . you . . . and you . . . and you . . .’
One of the Elders knelt down by Annis and untied the ropes which bound her to the post. There was a deep silence everywhere as he laid Annis gently down, and looked into her face.
‘I fear she is dead,’ he said slowly.
‘Dead! Dead!’ cried Tamar. ‘And you killed her.’
Richard was standing beside her on the platform. ‘Come away, Tamar. Come away.’
But she would not move. She stared at the dead body of Annis while memories, bitter, poignant and sweet, crowded in on her.
What right had these people to stand in judgement on dear sweet Annis?
Words fell from her lips. Her eyes flashed and her hair fell about her face. Many watching began to pray, for they were sure that the woman who stood before them was a witch.
She shouted: ‘You murdered her . . . all of you. Do you think I am deceived by you? Do you think I have not seen Brother Milroy’s sly eyes upon me? You men have desires as other men have! Oh, but you are so pure, are you not? We must have children for the colony . . . not a woman’s body to caress and give you pleasure. I hate you. I loathe you. You sin equally with the men of Merry Mount; but they sin merrily, and I could be happier with merry sinners than with brutal murdering ones. Freedom! What freedom is there here? Look at Polly Eagel! Have none of you ever sinned . . . in thought perhaps, since you would lack the courage to sin in deed? Freedom! You speak of freedom to worship God. Yes! Freedom to worship Him as you would have us worship Him! We are offered that at home in England. What of the Quakers you whipped out of Plymouth? What had they done but worshipped God in a way different from your own?’
Brother Milroy had caught her by the arm; another helped him to hold her.
Mistress Alton, her voice high-pitched with excitement, shouted from the crowd: ‘She is a witch. The Devil forced her on her mother. We knew her for a witch in the old country.’
‘So it is you!’ shouted Tamar. ‘You . . . you wicked old woman. You . . . who killed Annis with your cruelty. You wanted James Milroy for yourself, did you not? But his lustful eyes were turned on me. The Devil gave me my beauty, they say; and they would enjoy it . . . ah, only for the sake of the colony! You sent the pricker after me when we were in Pennicomquick. Do you think that I did not know that? I despised you. Till now I did not know that you were worth hating.’
‘Witchcraft!’ screamed Mistress Alton. ‘Witchcraft! She is a witch. She it was who gave Annis Tyler the charm which led John Tyler to sin with her. She is a witch on her own confession. Hang her quickly . . . before she casts her spells upon us. Look for the mark. Strip her, find it . . . and then . . . prick it! You will find that she is a witch. To the gallows! To the gallows! Lose no time, for she is evil. She is the Devil’s own.’
‘Witch! Witch!’ It grew in volume as thunder rolls. Tamar saw the gleaming eyes, the cruel mouths, and she thought: They have not had such excitement since they landed here. What is the beating of Annis, the branding of Polly, compared with the hanging of a witch?
Richard was trying to speak; he was holding up his hand and his eyes were full of agony. Dear Richard! To avoid this he had left his native land, and now it had caught up with them, as it seemed it must.
‘Listen to me!’ Richard was shouting. But his voice was lost in the cry of angry voices chanting: ‘A witch! A witch! To the gallows with the witch. The Devil’s own. The Devil’s own daughter. To the gallows! To the gallows!’
Tamar felt the breath of those who would seize her; her gown was torn. The more brutal among the crowd were surging on to the platform, and she felt she had seen these faces before. Puritans were no different from others.
But now someone was forcing his way to her. An arm was about her. One of the men who had pulled at her bodice was sent hurtling off the platform.
She was aware of the glitter of blue eyes, and the flash of a sword; she felt weak with sudden emotion.
In the last few seconds she had forgotten Bartle.
EIGHT
THE LIBERTY HAD rounded Cape James and was sailing down towards Chesapeake Bay.
With her sailed all those who wished to leave the settlement; the Swanns and their family; John Tyler and his, for they could not bear to stay with people who had killed Annis; there was Tom Eagel with his wife Polly; and there were some of the young couples who had danced at Merry Mount and been brought to shame through the prying eyes of Brother Milroy. There was Richard, with Tamar and her children.
The sun was sinking in a sky of blood red which was staining the waters; soon the Liberty would be shut in by darkness.
Tamar came on deck and stood beside Bartle. He put an arm about her and held her tightly against him. He laughed then; for he was not displeased to feel his ship beneath him.
And she laughed with him, sharing in his mood of exultation.
For the second time in her life she had narrowly missed the gallows. She would never forget that moment when Bartle had stood beside her on the platform, his sword flashing in the sunlight with a promise of death to any who dared lay a hand upon her. And those people had fallen back, afraid, until the Elders, who did not love violence, had commanded order. Richard had spoken then and told them that he and his daughter were going to leave New Plymouth, and that they would never return. The Liberty was theirs; they had brought provisions with them, and they would take away as much as they had brought. Then they would go in peace.
‘We came here to escape violence and intolerance,’ Richard had said. ‘We thought we had made that escape, but we find we were wrong. The small Church is as intolerant as its bigger sister. We have but escaped from one to another of the same kind. We shall sail forth in the Liberty. We shall try to find a place for ourselves somewhere in this great country. The way may be long; our path may be set with dangers; but liberty will be the reward, and liberty must be fought for and won by bitter fighting, great hardship; it may be constant hardship; that we cannot say, for having fought and won we may have to continue fighting to retain this precious gift. Only those who are ready to fight the fight should come with us.’
There were some, it seemed, who were ready.
Bartle gripped Tamar’s hand as they watched the sun begin to dip into the sea; they watched until the pink stain on the waters turned to a dark green.
‘Whither are we going?’ asked Bartle. ‘Whither will this pox-ridden bucket carry us?’
‘She will carry us whither we should go,’ answered Tamar. ‘Somewhere in this vast land we will find freedom, for in our thoughts we have already made it the land of freedom.’
The water was changing colour once more; away to the east it was now an inky black.
Bartle mused: ‘She’s a frail thing, this Liberty, to face wind and rain, pirates and savages.’
‘We are in danger,’ said Tamar. ‘We all know that. From hour to hour, minute to minute, we are in danger. But what we seek is worth facing all the dangers the world can offer us.’
They were both silent while the darkness came down upon them and wrapped itself about them so that they could no longer see the heaving water.
But the Liberty went steadily on.
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First published 1952 by Robert Hale and Company
Copyright Jean Plaidy 1952
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