“He visits here as he visits all places, and I dare say he finds much to be glad of in these farms and villages. A garden of the soul. But still aslither with snakes, like every other place.”
“If you plan to kill me,” said Purity, “you'd better do it quick, because I'm going now to denounce you and send them after you.”
“Then be off,” said Verily. “They'll either find us or they won't, depending on what Alvin decides. And if they do find us, keep this in mind: All he wants is for people to have a chance at happiness. Even you.”
“My happiness doesn't depend on a witch!”
“Does so,” said Verily. “But up to now, the witches it depended on were dead.”
Tears appeared in her eyes; her face reddened; she would have slapped him again except she remembered that it did no good. Instead she turned and ran from him into the woods, almost bumping into Alvin and Mike Fink, who were returning along the path. A moment later she was gone.
“I think you lost, Very,” said Alvin. “Or was that your plan?”
“She's not at her best,” said Verily. He looked from Mike to Arthur to Alvin. “Well, is it time for us to put on seven-league boots?”
Alvin grinned at him. “Wouldn't you rather we tied you to the mast as we sailed on past the siren?”
Verily was startled. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that I saw how you were looking at her. She struck something in you.”
“Of course she did,” said Verily. “She's been strangled by the need to hide her very considerable knack, and now she finds that her parents were killed for the same cause. She has to distinguish between herself and those who knowingly do witchcraft. She has to draw the line of virtue and stand on the right side of it without denying what she is and what she knows. I lived that life, except that my parents were fortunate enough to stay alive. I understand something of what she's going through.”
“Inconvenient time for her to come to her crisis of faith, don't you think?” said Alvin.
“Don't make more of this than it is,” said Verily. “As I told her, if she denounces us the authorities will either find us or not, depending on what you decide.”
Mike snorted. “That's an easy one.”
At that moment Arthur Stuart and a dripping, somewhat-dressed Audubon appeared. “She's gone,” Arthur Stuart said.
“That is good, the way I am dress,” said Audubon.
“She's gone to report us,” said Mike Fink, “and here we are jawing.”
“It's up to Alvin whether we run or wait,” said Verily. “She might not denounce us.”
“But then she might,” said Mike. “And if she does, let's not be here.” But Verily and Alvin were looking at each other, deciding some question that the others hadn't heard.
“Is there some reason,” Alvin asked, “why I might choose to let them find us?”
Still Verily declined to answer.
“To save her,” said Arthur Stuart.
Now they all looked at Arthur. He looked at Alvin, just as intently as Verily had the moment before. Alvin had the distinct impression that he was supposed to understand some unspoken explanation.
“How would it save her, for us to be caught?” asked Alvin.
“Because the way she's acting,” said Arthur Stuart, “she's going to get herself killed. Unless we save her.”
Mike Fink came between them. “Let me get this straight. You want us to get locked up and tried as witches so we can save her?”
“How would us getting locked up help her?” said Alvin.
“How many birds can I paint in jail?” asked Audubon.
“You wouldn't stay in jail long,” said Verily. “Witch trials are notoriously quick.”
“What is it about a woman that makes her life worth the lives of four men and a boy?” demanded Mike.
Verily laughed in exasperation. “What are you thinking, Mike? This is Alvin Smith. The Maker of the Golden Plow. How long do you suppose he'd let us wait in jail?”
“You really don't want to leave her behind, do you, Very?” said Alvin. “Or you neither, Arthur Stuart, is that right?”
“Sure is,” said the boy,
“That's right,” said Verily.
“Goodness gracious,” said Mike sarcastically. “Is this love we're talking about?”
“Who's in love?” demanded Arthur.
“Verily Cooper's in love with Miss Purity,” said Mike Fink.
“I don't think so,” said Verily.
“He must be,” said Mike, “because he's let her go off to denounce us to the authorities and he wants us to get arrested because he thinks that'll make her feel bad and she'll change her mind about us and she'll recant her testimony against us and then she'll decide to come along with us. Which is a fine plan, except for the part where we get hung and she kneels at the foot of the gallows weeping her poor little eyes out she feels so bad.”
Arthur Stuart looked at Verily, calculation in his eyes. “You think we might change her mind about us by getting arrested?” he asked.
“Mike is wrong, it's not pity I'm counting on,” said Verily. “It's fear.”
“Fear of what?” asked Alvin.
“Fear of the working of the law. Right now she believes the law is just and therefore we and her parents deserve to die. She'll change her mind quick enough when she sees how witch trials go.”
“You've made a pretty long chain out of one link,” said Mike.
“Give her a chance,” said Arthur Stuart.
Alvin looked at Arthur, then at Verily. Who ever would have thought this man and this boy would be rivals in love? “Might be worth a try,” said Alvin.
“If they arrest me they'll take my paintings and destroy them,” said Audubon.
“I'll keep you and your paintings safe,” said Alvin.
“And if they kill you,” said Audubon, “what will happen to my paintings?”
“I won't care,” said Alvin.
“But I will!”
“No you won't,” said Arthur Stuart. “Cause if Alvin gets killed, so will you.”
“That is my point!” cried Audubon. “Let us run away! This greensong that you speak of, for hiding in the forest while running very fast. Sing!”
“What I got in mind,” said Alvin, “is more like a saunter on the riverbank. And remember, all of you– confess to nothing. No witchcraft. No knacks. Don't even admit to being French, John James.”
“I ain't going to lie under oath,” said Arthur Stuart.
“Don't lie, just refuse to answer,” said Alvin.
“That's when they torture you,” said Verily. “When you refuse to say yes or no.”
“Well, they hang you when you say yes,” said Alvin, “and I ain't heard of them just letting you go if you deny it.”
“If you don't answer, you can die without ever going to trial.”
Alvin began to chuckle. “Well, now I get it. You want to go to trial. This ain't about Purity or being in love or any such thing. You want to take on the witch laws.”
“Well I don't,” said Mike Fink. “I sure don't have to answer under oath when someone asks me if I ever served Satan.”
“It seems to me,” said Alvin, “that if you want to have your day in court, Verily, you ought to do it as a lawyer, and not as a defendant.”
“And you oughtn't to drag along folks as don't want to stand trial,” said Mike.
“Not that any harm would come to any of us,” said Alvin.
Audubon threw his anus heavenward. “Listen to him! Alvin has the… hubris. He think he can save everybody.”
“I can,” said Alvin. “That's just a fact.”
“Then let's stay around and save her,” said Arthur Stuart. “We don't have to get arrested to do that.”
“I want to do more than save her body from death,” said Verily.
“Please don't tell us what more you want to do to her body,” said Audubon.
Verily ignored him. “I want her to learn th
e truth about her parents and about herself. I want her to be proud of her knack. I want her to come join us in building the Crystal City.”
“Those are all good things to want,” said Alvin. “But just at this moment I have a keen memory of the months I spent in jail back in Hatrack River, and I got to say I don't wish even an hour in such a place for any of this company.”
“Yes! The wisdom of Solomon!” cried Audubon.
“Which ain't to say I don't see your point, too, Very,” said Alvin. “And as for you, Arthur Stuart, I can see as how a young man like you sees a damsel walking straight to the dragon's lair and he's plain got to draw his sword.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Arthur.
“Saint George,” said Alvin. “And the dragon.”
“The boy will not let me to kill birds,” said Audubon, “but dragons.”
Mike Fink looked puzzled. “Ain't no dragons around here.”
“Fall in line behind me,” said Alvin, “and say nothing, and touch nothing, and don't stray from the path I mark.”
“So you'll leave her to their mercy,” said Verily.
“I promise you, Very,” said Alvin, “you'll get everything you want.”
Verily nodded. Alvin looked at Arthur Stuart, wordlessly making him the same promise, and the boy also nodded.
They all lined up behind him on the riverbank. Alvin started off walking, then picked up his pace, jogging along, then loping, then flat-out running. At first the others worked hard at it, but then they began to hear a kind of music, not with instruments, not the kind you sing or dance to, but the sound of wind in leaves and birds singing, the chatter of squirrels and the buzz of insects, the high white sizzle of sunlight striking the dew on the leaves, the languid rush of water vapor distilling into the air. The sound of their footfalls merged with the music and the world around them tumed into a blur of green, which contained every leaf, every tree, every bit of earth, and made them all one thing; and the runners were part of that one thing, and their running was part of the song, and the leaves parted to let them pass, and the air cooled them and the streams bore them over without their feet getting wet and instead of growing legsore or ribstitched they felt exhilarated, full of the life around them. They could run like that forever.
Then, moments later, the greensong began to fade. The trees narrowed to a strip of wood along the river. Cultivated fields held a muted music, low tones of thousands of identical lives. Buildings broke the song entirely, gaps of silence that were almost painful. They staggered, felt the pounding of their feet on the ground, which was hard now, and the branches snagged at them as they passed. They cantered, jogged, walked, and finally stopped. As one they turned away from the fields and buildings, away from the city of Boston with the tall masts of the ships in the harbor rising higher than the buildings, and faced upriver, to the place through which the song had carried them.
“Mon dieu,” said Audubon. “I have flied on angel wings.”
They stood in silence for a while longer. And then Arthur Stuart spoke.
“Where's Alvin?” he said.
Alvia wasn't there. Mike scowled at Verily Cooper. “Now look what you've done.”
“Me?” said Verily.
“He sent us off and stayed behind to get arrested,” said Mike. “I'm sworn to protect him and then you get him to do something like this.”
“I didn't ask him to do this alone,” said Verily.
Arthur Stuart started walking up the path, back into the woods.
“Where are you going?” asked Verily.
“Back to Cambridge,” he said. “It can't be that far. The sun's hardly moved in the sky.”
“It's too late to stop Alvin from doing this,” said Mike.
Arthur looked back at him like he was crazy. “I know that,” he said. “But he expects us to go back and help.”
“How do you know this?” asked Audubon. “He tell you what he plan to do?”
“He told all of us,” said Arthur. “He knows Verily wants to have a witch trial. So, Alvin's decided he'll be the witch. Verily gets to be the lawyer. And the rest of us have to be witnesses.”
“But the girl will denounce us, too,” said Audubon.
Verily nodded. “That's right,” he said. “Yes, that's right. So the three of you, I want you to wait in the woods until I come fetch you.”
“What's the plan?” asked Mike.
“I won't find that out till I talk to Alvin,” said Verily. “But remember this: The only charge that matters in a witch trial is, Did Satan rule you? So that's the only question you answer. Nothing about knacks or hidden powers. Just about Satan. You never saw him, you never talked to him or any demons, he never gave you anything. Can you all swear to that truly?”
They all laughed and agreed they could.
“So when it's time to testify, that's the only question you answer. For the rest, you just look stupid.”
“What about me?” said Audubon. “I was baptized Catholic.”
“You can talk about that, too,” said Verily. “You'll see. If I'm half the lawyer I trained to be, none of this will ever come to trial.” He joined Arthur on the path. “Come along. It's legal work now. And if everything comes out right, we'll have Alvin free and Miss Purity as a traveling companion.”
“I don't want to travel with her!” said Mike. “Look at the trouble she's already caused us!”
“Trouble?” said Verily. “I've been stupefied with boredom in New England. Everything's so peaceful here. Everything runs smoothly, most disputes are settled peacefully, neighbors pretty much get along, people are happy an extraordinary proportion of the time. I'm a lawyer, for heaven's sake! I was about to lose my mind!”
* * *
At first Reverend Study was dismissive. “I can understand your being fascinated with the idea of witches, but it's from the past, my dear Purity.”
“They bragged about it,” said Purity. “I didn't ask them.”
“That's just it, you see,” said the minister. “They're not from New England, and those from outside tend to mock our stricter adherence to scripture. They were having fun with you.”
“They were not,” said Purity. “And if you refuse to help me, I'll go straight to the tithingmen myself.”
“No no,” said Study. “You mustn't do that.”
“Why not? A woman's testimony is valid in court. Even an orphan, I think!”
“It's not a matter of– Purity, do you realize the trouble you are heading into with these wild charges?”
“They're not wild. And I know what you're trying so hard not to say– that my parents were hanged as witches.”
“What!” said Study. “Who told you such a thing! Who is spreading such slanders!”
“Are you saying it's not so?”
“I have no idea, but I can't imagine it's true. There hasn't been a witch trial in this part of New England for… for much longer than you've been alive.”
“But the trial wasn't here,” said Purity. “It was in Netticut.”
“Well, that's a bit of a reach, don't you think? Why Netticut?”
“Reverend Study, the longer we talk, the farther these men will flee. And one of them is a papist, a Frenchman, brought here under false pretenses. They've been pretending he was mute.”
Reverend Study sighed.
“I can see you have no respect for me, just like the others,” said Purity.
“Is that what this is about? Trying to earn respect?”
“No, it's not!”
“Because this is not the way to do it. I remember the Salem trials. Well, not that I remember them myself, I wasn't even here, but the shame of that city still endures. So many killed on the testimony of a group of hysterical girls. The girls were left unpunished, you know. They lived out their lives, however their consciences let them do it, because it was impossible for an earthly judge to know which charges were malicious and which were the product of self-delusion and mob mentality.”
�
��I am neither a group nor hysterical.”
“But such charges do provoke a certain skepticism.”
“That's nonsense, Reverend Study. People believe in witchcraft. Everyone does. They check for it at the borders! They preach– no, you preach against it in meetings!”
“It's all so confusing. What I preach about is the attempt to use hidden powers. Even if they exist, they should not be used to gain advantage over one's neighbor, or even to gain good fame among one's friends. But the formal charge of witchcraft, that requires allegations of contact with Satan, of maleficence. Depending on who the interrogators are, there may be questions about witches' sabbaths, there will be naming of names. These things get out of hand.”
“Of course they'll lie about Satan. They never said anything about Satan to me.”
“There. It's not witchcraft, you see?”
“But isn't that just what we expect?” said Purity. “Don't we expect a witch to lie?”
“That's what happened at Salem!” cried Study. “They started interpreting denials as lies, as attempts to cover up Satan's penetration of the community. But later it was discovered, it was realized, that there had never been any witchcraft at all, and that the confessions they got were all motivated by a selfish desire to save one's own life, while the only ones hanged were those who refused to lie.”
“Are you saying that you believe the Bible is wrong when it says we shall not suffer a witch to live?”
“No, no, of course if you actually find a witch, then you must… act, but–”
“I have found a witch, Reverend Study. Please summon the tithingmen to help me obey the Lord's injunction in the Bible.”
Sick at heart, Reverend Study rose to his feet. “You leave me no choice.”
“As they left me no choice.”
Study stopped at the door and spoke without facing her. “Do you not understand that many long-pent resentments can be released by this sort of thing?”
“These men are intruders here. What resentments can anyone have against them? The judges will be honest. My testimony will be honest.”
Study leaned his head into the doorjamb and almost whispered his answer. “There have been rumors. About you.”
Purity felt a thrill of fear and joy run through her body, making her tremble for a moment. Her guess was right. Her parents did die for witchcraft, just as she figured. “All the more reason, then, for me to prove myself loyal to the scripture and an enemy to Satan.”
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