by Diane Story
Abigail watched until Fern was gone and the room was cleared. Elizabeth had defied the sisterhood with this act. When she discovered the ancient book was gone, she knew for what purpose it was meant. She didn’t speak to the girl with her mind this time, but wondered if she should have. If the sisters couldn’t save her before she met the gallows at sunup, then there was no reason to remind her of who she was. Preparing to leave, she jumped when Elizabeth spoke. She’d managed to sit next to her without her noticing. It was Elizabeth’s way, to sneak up. Even as a child, it was her way.
“Dear sister, why hast thou come to witness my child’s demise? Do the sisters not keep you busy these days?” Elizabeth chuckled.
“Why hast my sister become so bitter? Is not thy child I see ready to face her demise, why do you persist with this vengeance, Elizabeth? You should look to your sisters for love and understanding…”
“Enough!” Elizabeth wailed. “Love and understanding, ha! Ye of all witches should know the consequences of love and understanding, Abigail. This woman must replace my Mary on the gallows, it cannot be stopped, just as the sun must rise, it to cannot be stopped.” Elizabeth scooted close, and spoke in a whisper. “You see this too, do ye not?”
“Aye, sister. I do, and thy sisters do. We will not interfere unless your plan fails, Elizabeth.” Abigail placed her hand over Elizabeth’s on the top of her old cane. “We are all sisters, remember that.”
“Aye, I always will.” Elizabeth left Abigail then, she had much to do before sunup.
* * * *
Rowen stood before the guard trying to maintain his composure. He had to remain calm and not give the guard any reason not to believe him. He wore his black coat, a reproduction displaying wealth for the time. “I am Sister Wilds Attorney, her mother sent for me from Boston just this morning. Please let me pass.”
“I will need to ask our worship, Judge Hauthorn. His orders are that no one is allowed inside without his permission first.”
“Aye, but I already have his permission. We spoke but only a few moments ago.” Rowen watched as confusion crossed his face. “Our worship is relaxing with a cup of his favorite hot cider, I should not like to disturb him. But if you feel you must…”
“No,” the guard replied hurriedly. “No need to disturb him. You may pass, but be quick about it.”
The stairs leading down to the dungeon were dark; Rowen grabbed a torch before descending. He passed by each cell slowly, trying to ignore the pleas for help as he went. Fern was in the last one. His mind was telling him it was only yesterday that they were together, but in fact it had been a week. She was lying with her back to him on a pallet of straw on the dirt floor. Rage filled him; grasping the bars, he yanked them repeatedly. They were solid, and didn’t budge an inch. Without thinking, he swore loudly. “Son of a bitch.”
Fern sat up quickly, staring at the man who was trying to get inside her cell, fear building when he swore. “Who are thou? Leave me, or I will call for the guard.”
Rowen stopped yanking when he heard her voice. “Fern, it’s me Rowen. Come over here, love, so I can see you.”
“My name is Mary, sir, you have the wrong cell. Leave me be.” Fern rolled back to her spot on her pallet.
Rowen drew a deep breath then went on. “Fern, look at me love.” Even from where he was he could see she’d lost weight. When he found Elizabeth, he’d kill her. “Your name is not Mary. Mary is your ancestor. Just look at me and I’ll help you remember who you are.”
Fern rolled over and looked at him, he was shadowed behind the torch. But something was familiar about him. Standing, she walked slowly toward him. “I do not know you, this I am sure. But lower your torch so that I can see your face.”
Rowen did as she asked. His heart sang when he saw her tears. “It is me love. You know now, don’t you?”
Fern fell to her knees in front of the bars, Rowen followed. “Oh Rowen, where have you been? How long have I been here?” She cried.
Rowen reached through the bars and took her hands. “Elizabeth has kept us apart for over a week.” His eyes searched hers, taking in the dark circles underneath them. “I’m so sorry love, I would never have let this happen. Elizabeth gave us something to make us forget each other. Rose came to me and woke me up, I prayed that I wouldn’t be too late.”
“Do you have a key, Rowen, can you get me out of here?” Fern begged.
“No, I can’t, Fern.” He squeezed her hand when she started to cry. “I will find Jonathan and ask for his help. He has the key, and I know he will help. I must have you out of here before sunup love, just hold on for a few more hours.”
“What happens at sunup, Rowen” Fern looked into his eyes and remembered the trial. “I hang at sunup, don’t I? You won’t let that happen, I know you won’t. Please, hurry back so we can go home, Rowen, I’m tired of this place.”
“Not any more than I am, love.” Picking up her hand, he kissed her palm gently. “I love you Fern, I’ll be back, soon.”
“I love you, Rowen, I’ll be waiting.” Fern walked back to her pallet and sat down against the dirt wall where she watched as the light from his torch dimmed. She was no longer afraid.
* * * *
Jonathan waited for Rowen to get past the village before approaching him. He’d been waiting for his return ever since he and his woman Fern had disappeared. Judge Hauthorn had refused to allow him in the courtroom for over a week, telling him a new father should spend time with his wife and child. But he knew better, something was wrong, and he was determined to find out what it was. He was close to going mad with his need to see Mary. Ever since her arrest, he’d been refused time in the dungeon with her.
Sarah had given birth a few nights earlier with the help of Elizabeth Wilds. It was a difficult birth, telling him that the child was not of his blood. Especially when the old woman had confirmed it. He’d spent most days away from home, searching for Rowen. Today when he saw him leave the dungeon, he raised his face in prayer.
It became apparent after a mile or so that Rowen was headed to the cottage. Making sure there was no one else on the road, Jonathan ran to catch him. “Brother Rowen, wait for me please,” he yelled.
Rowen turned at hearing his name. “Jonathan, thank God it is you.” He waited for him to catch up. “I am in need of your assistance, Jonathan, it is urgent.”
“Things are bad in Village Salem, Rowen, my Mary will be hung at sunup and I know not how to save her. I too, need your help.” Jonathan clasped his outstretched hand.
Rowen frowned. “Mary? Jonathan, Mary is not in the dungeon. She has been replaced with Fern. Fern is the one who will hang tomorrow. I need you to give me the key to her cell so that I can get her out before morning.”
Jonathan turned away, not wishing to show Rowen his anger. “It was Elizabeth, wasn’t it? She switched them. I will have her hung from the neck, I swear it.” Then another thought occurred to him. “If Mary is not in the dungeon, where is she?”
Rowen shook his head. “I don’t know Jonathan, I hoped she was safe with you.”
“I know not where she is, Rowen. But I will find her, I promise ye that.” Turning back, he clasped his fist over Rowen’s shoulder. “I regret I cannot help you. Judge Hauthorn has forbade me entrance to the dungeon, he has my key.”
Rowen slouched in defeat. “It seems as if Elizabeth has won.” His fist clenched in his coat pocket and his knuckles rubbed against the cold hard steel of his pistol. Pulling it from his pocket he looked at it and slowly smiled. “She hasn’t won yet. Come Jonathan, let’s go to the cottage and make our plans. Our women need us, and I’ll be dammed if I, we, disappoint them.”
* * * *
The sisters sat in a circle, hands clasped, waiting for Mary’s answer. Abigail had released her from her room earlier after a week of confinement. She’d gone to the sisters seeking their help when she escaped from her mother after she’d switched her with the girl from her future. “I do not know if I can let the woman die in my p
lace. But I will do as my sisters ask and stay away. All my life I have wanted to be like you, Abigail, strong and courageous. But I cannot fight my mother, she is evil and I am not strong enough.”
“You are like us more than ye know, Mary, your power to speak with your mind is even stronger than your mother’s. Yet, your heart is weak because you allow love to guide you.” Abigail broke the circle and stood before her. “You will stay here until tomorrow is done. We will let thy daughter Rose intervene if needed. She is stronger than all of us, and will one day lead us.”
Mary dared to look up into her beautiful eyes. “What of Jonathan, will he ever be mine?”
Abigail hated the weakness of love, especially in one of her own. “Jonathan Nichols is already yours, Mary. Unfortunately, he is caught in a web of his own deceit. Tomorrow will tell all. If his heart is pure, he will be yours.”
“Thank you, sister Abigail.” Mary rejoiced inside. Jonathan was pure, she knew it. “So our sister from the future must die for all things to be correct! Is it not strange, the way our roads lead us?.”
“Aye Sister Mary, it is.” Abigail answered, her voice mingling with those of the sisters as they all agreed.
* * * *
Dawn grew near and Fern had lost her battle with fear. Rowen said he would be back to rescue her, but never showed up. It could only mean that he was either captured or lying somewhere hurt, or even dead. Refusing to believe the latter, she pushed the thought from her mind. He was out there somewhere, waiting, she just knew it. He wouldn’t let her down.
Sitting down next to the wall she waited. When the first rays of sunshine blanketed the dirt floor of her cell, she knew it was almost time. And when she heard the commotion outside, she knew it was time. They were here to take her, to hang her, and Rowen still had not come. She still sat when Judge Hauthorn’s face beamed at her from behind the bars of her cell.
“Open the door, guard,” Judge Hauthorn ordered. After the door stood open, he waited for the girl to stand. “It is time, Mary Wilds. Have ye a confession prepared for the good people of our village?”
“No, and you shall never hear one from my lips. My name is not Mary Wilds, it is Fern Abbott, and you are making a grave mistake.” Fern held tight to her place on the floor determined not to let them take her easily.
“It is thy grave that I seek, Mary Wilds.” Turning, he spoke his orders once again. “Guard, bring her to gallows hill.”
Fern grabbed handfuls of straw, throwing them at the guard as he advanced. But it was a futile gesture, the man easily subdued her then bound her hands behind her back before she could scream a second time. The brightness of the sun blinded her for a moment once she was pulled from the dungeon. She didn’t have time to focus before she was thrown into the back of a waiting wagon for the trip up the hillside. Her eyes focused first on the children that ran behind the wagon, yelling, calling her a witch. Then on the women following their angered husbands as they made their way behind the children. She didn’t care what these people thought of her, she only wanted to see one face amongst them, and his wasn’t there.
Trembling, she turned. There in the distance stood the largest tree she’d ever seen. A noose swung in the morning breeze, and Judge Hauthorn was waiting to the side, a grin on his face. Oh Rowen, where are you?
Rowen raced from one tree to the next, ducking behind boulders and bushes along the way. Jonathan was already there, somewhere in the crowd with Sarah. If their plan worked, he would have Fern free soon, and they would go home. From his point he couldn’t see Fern’s face but he wished he could. If they could just look into each other’s eyes, she would know he was there. He’d taken some practice shots last night to make sure his pistol was right on, and it was perfect. Now all he had to do was wait. He’d give anything to take Fern’s place, to take away her fear. Soon my love, it’ll all be over soon. Taking aim, he held his breath.
“Why did ye bring thy child to such a scene as this, Sarah?” Jonathan stood next to Sarah waiting for the moment he’d been anticipating. Soon, he would no longer call her his wife.
“My son has a right to witness his father’s whore’s death,” Sarah replied.
“No more lies, Sarah. He is not my son, and today ye will repent for thine own indiscretions.” He felt her stiffen next to him.
“No matter, Mary will be dead and I will still be married to you. Maybe she will call out thy name for all to hear. Then you can die next to her on the gallows and I will be free to marry his true father.” Walking forward, she left him to stare after her. Raising her son upon her chest, she woke him to witness the execution.
Fern’s heart pounded against her ribs painfully. The wagon had stopped and the gate had been opened. A guard waited for her to step down, but she couldn’t move. Her fingers dug into the wooden slats, and she didn’t feel the splinters as they dug into her soft flesh. She only cried out when he pulled her fingers back to free her from the wagon. “Let me go, I am not a witch, can’t you see that? If I was, I’d turn you into a jackass.”
Rowen heard her from the distance and tried not to laugh. “That’s my girl.” He was ready; he wouldn’t miss.
The guard pushed Fern up to the podium underneath the noose and started to pull a canvas sack over her head, but she shoved him away. “I’ll see your face before I die, and know this, I’ll haunt you in your dreams.”
Judge Hauthorn stepped forward and stood before Fern, facing the crowd. “Mary Wilds has refused to confess her witchcraft to the good people of Salem Village. Today, she will hang for her sins.” Turning back around, he nodded to the guard, then smiled up at Fern. “Thy death will be a lesson to this village. Witchcraft will not be tolerated.”
“Soon, the truth about your own lies will be heard. How will you answer to your village then, Judge Hauthorn?” Fern stood on tiptoe as the noose was strung around her neck. She scanned the crowd one last time, screaming his name “Rowen!” The noose tightened, her breath caught in her throat, and her toes left the podium as it was pushed out from underneath her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Rowen took aim and pulled the trigger, slicing the rope perfectly in two. The loud bang brought all eyes his way, so they didn’t notice that the girl they believed to be Mary Wilds was now lying on the ground, gasping for air.
Jamming his pistol into his coat pocket, Rowen ran past the confused crowd to where Fern was now sitting on the dirt trying to get the rope loose from her neck. “Thank God you’re alright.” Grasping her hands, he loosed the rope, pulling it free from her neck. Hugging her tight, he kissed her forehead. “We don’t have any time, we must leave now. Come on love, I know where the wardrobe is.” Pulling her to her feet he ran with her until they were past the crowd. All eyes were on them, but none seemed brave enough to try and stop them, save one.
“Halt Mary Wilds!” Judge Hauthorn held his pistol to the sky and shot. “Halt I say, or I will be forced to shoot you.”
Fern turned around slowly, giving the judge enough time to let his eyes settle on her before speaking. Smiling, she released Rowen’s hand and took a few steps toward him. “Aye, I will stop my worship, but only if ye can call me by my rightful name in front of thy devoted people of Village Salem.”
Rowen knew this woman was not Fern, or was she? “Fern, we must go.” He took a few steps backward when she looked at him. This woman looked like Fern, beautiful with serene eyes, but she wasn’t Fern. “Who are you?” He watched in dismay as she approached the judge. Not even the crowd could take their eyes off her, or prevent her from her mission. Scanning the crowd he spotted Jonathan and their eyes locked briefly, questions flying between them. He jerked back around when Fern…the woman spoke again.
“If it will please my worship, I can remind you of my name.” She’d by now reached Judge Hauthorn’s side and stood staring up into his eyes. She saw then that he did recognize her, a thrill ran up her spine. “Shall I speak it?”
Judge Hauthorn stepped back when her soft flesh made contact w
ith his. Her small fingers gentle on his cheek. “Do not touch me woman, tis impossible for ye to be here. Where have ye taken Mary Wilds? She must hang for her sins today.”
“Do not be a fool, James Hauthorn. Our daughter will not die today, nor shall I. And, nor shall our granddaughter Rose. It is time to face thy own judgment for all your years of deceit to thy people and to thy family. Ye have known this day would come.” Reaching out, she waited for him to place his hand into hers. But still, he delayed.
“I will not go with you, Elizabeth. I cannot.. I, have committed myself here to this village, to another. We had a bargain, you agreed to…” He frowned when she smiled again.
Elizabeth turned and scanned the crowd until her eyes found Sarah. “Sarah Nichols, come forth with thy babe.” Looking back up into his eyes she smiled. “Our bargain! It has been satisfied. You will live, but not without payment for your sins.”
Sarah turned and tried to run, but Jonathan refused to let her. Grasping her by her shoulders, he turned her back around. “It is a day of reckoning, my dear wife.”
Elizabeth grasped her hand and pulled her forward, making sure not to wake the babe. “Listen to me, good people of Village Salem. This child is born not with the blood of thy brother, Jonathan Nichols, but that of thy worship, Judge Hauthorn.” She waited for silence after the gasps of shock settled down. “Jonathan Nichols has released Sarah from their ties of wedlock to become the wife of thy judge. A babe is made of their blood and must have its parents to care for it, there will be no hangings today.” Elizabeth felt the pressure of the Judge’s hand squeeze hers. Looking at him, she saw his anger. “Do not defy me again James, I will let the sisters cast you into a fiery pit of snakes if you do. You love this woman Sarah Nichols. This is plain. You could not love me, or your daughter, so give your love where you can.”
“And what of you, Elizabeth?” James Hauthorn was beginning to understand Elizabeth’s sacrifice. He’d betrayed her love so long ago, and he’d paid ever since. But today, she was releasing him from his curse and her own. “I am old Elizabeth, too old to be a father.”