by R. D. Brady
Sarah frowned. Witnesses? “Who?”
“That is not—”
“Who?” Sarah demanded.
Jonathan narrowed his eyes, his mouth a tight line. “Ann Putnam, Abigail Williams, and Elizabeth Samuel.”
Sarah laughed. “Children? You dragged me in here on the word of children? Children lie, Magistrate.”
Samuel bounded from his chair. “How dare you. My daughter and niece would never lie. They are God-fearing children.”
Sarah shook her head. Obviously the man had never spent much time around children if he believed that argument. “All children lie. It is part of their nature.”
“And Tituba? Why would she lie?” Hathorne asked.
Sarah frowned. Seeing Tituba dragged down the hall again in her mind, she turned to Samuel. “Tituba? Your slave? She would lie because you told her to.”
Samuel slapped Sarah across the face. “You accuse me of laying false claims to the court, witch?”
Sarah’s hand flew to the side of her face. Her cheek throbbed and tears sprang to her eyes. But they were not tears of fear. Oh no, these were tears of anger.
"I know you are a witch. I know you torment my child even now. And your evil has stained the good people of Salem. You have never fit in because the people of Salem know your true nature. Admit to who you are."
"I am Sarah Goode. And that is all that I am."
"Liar! The devil acts through you. And the devil will rue the day he came for my daughter." Samuel questioned her fast and furious, barely giving her time to respond and never letting her complete an answer. Finally, she gave up. This man would not listen. He had decided who she was, what she was and there was nothing she could say or do would that would change that.
"Answer me!" Samuel screamed, his face red as he stepped toward Sarah again his hand held high.
Hathorne grabbed his arm before he could make contact. “Now, now there is no need for that.” He moved to stand in front of Sarah, shooing Samuel away. Sarah glared at Samuel and he seethed right back at her. That man is insane.
“Sister Goode," Hathorne said pulling her attention back to him. Until Hathorne had intervened, Sarah had forgotten the other two were in the room. They'd seemed content to let Samuel run the show.
Now Hathorne smiled at her although there was no warmth in it. "Surely you trust in the goodness of God? He has provided us this blessed world as a gift and we have been entreated to dole out justice on his behalf. That justice extends to even you. Now tell us what you have done and see the justice this world can provide.”
Sarah shook her head, choking down a laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “You speak of justice, you men who own your wives and daughters as if they were slaves. This world married me off to one man, who spent all my money and left me in debt and then married me off to a second who has barely worked a full day in his life. That is what the world has provided me. And I am sick of going along with it. I've seen the justice of this world and it is anything but just.”
Corwin glared at her. “If you continue this way, you will be hanged.”
She looked into Corwin’s face. “Do you honestly think that I am stupid enough to believe that there is any way I am going to avoid that fate? If I am going to hang, I will damn well do it as I am, not as the person you want me to be. I am innocent.”
The pretense of civility dropped from Hathorne’s face. “You are not! Now admit your sins.”
She looked at the men in front of her. There was nothing she would be able to say to convince them either, so she resolved to stay silent. Her words were meaningless anyway.
They continued to question her for another hour, but Sarah stayed silent. Finally, Corwin threw up his hands. “We leave her in your hands, Reverend Samuel. We will return after supper.”
Samuel inclined his head. “As you wish, Magistrates.”
Samuel was silent as the magistrates left but as soon as the door closed he turned and began to circle Sarah. But Sarah just ignored him. She had no interest in the questions of this little man. The three of them had offered her freedom in exchange for her turning in the other ‘members’ of her coven. Apparently they could stomach a witch amongst them so long as she was a disloyal witch. They made her sick.
Samuel walked over to the table and poured himself a drink of water. Sarah had not had a drop the entire time she had been held and her mouth was so dry. She looked at the glass longingly.
Samuel finished his drink and sighed. “Ah. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, you were about to tell me the names of the others in your coven.”
Sarah said nothing, just stared at a spot on the wall as he continued to ramble. She fought the weariness falling over her, but then she closed her eyes. She was so tired she was swaying on her feet. A hard pinch on her arm caused her eyes to fly open with a gasp.
“Pay attention, witch.”
“For the last time, I am not a witch, you stupid man.”
Samuel glared at her. “You are a woman who does not know her place. You attacked my child, my niece—two innocents.”
“Why on earth would I have done that?” Sarah asked, feeling beyond exasperate.
“Perhaps they stumbled upon something they shouldn’t have. Perhaps they found your book.”
Sarah’s head whipped up and her eyes went wide before she could even think to hide her reaction.
“Ah, I see have your attention now.” He smiled. “Where are your smart retorts now, witch? I know you have a book of spells.”
Her heart raced and it was only sheer willpower that kept her on her feet.
“Tell me where the book is or your daughter will tell us I’m sure. Dorcas is her name, isn’t it?”
Fear slashed through Sarah. Not Dorcas. “Leave her alone.” She wanted the words to come out as a command but they shook too much to have any authority in them.
Samuel’s tone hardened. “Tell me where it is.”
The vision enveloped her before she could respond and Samuel disappeared. Instead she found herself in a castle in a distant land. Samuel was there demanding attention from a woman with blonde hair and incredibly blue eyes.
“I want you, Helen.”
The woman’s face displayed her disgust as she raked him with her eyes. “Lay a finger on me and I will make you a eunuch.”
Samuel’s face grew red. “If I say—”
“What do you want, Samuel? Because if it is to bed me, I assure you, you will not enjoy the encounter.”
The vision disappeared as quickly as it appeared and she quickly realized he had not noticed her slip in and out of the vision. And by some miracle, she had remained standing.
She also realized something else in that moment: the souls of the two men were the same; only their faces differed. He was the same throughout time: a small man demanding people acknowledge his importance. And until he got beyond his own ego, he would spend all his lifetimes trying to reach the same impossible goal.
The woman ignored his demands, and across time, Sarah felt her resolve. It strengthened her.
Samuel stopped his pacing and turned to her. “Tell me where your grimoire is.”
You small little man. She shook her head. “There is nothing to tell. I am not a witch and I have no grimoire.”
“Then I will ask your daughter. Would you like that?”
Sarah stared at him, feeling her helplessness. But that state of helplessness was one that, as a woman, she was used to. Her first husband had doomed her children to a life of poverty. Her gender had doomed her to machinations of all men. And she knew right now that no matter what she did, she would not be able to spare her daughter from the same fate.
But if she told them, the lessons of the Great Mother would be lost for all time. The mission of the Great Mother, to bring the world to a place of compassion, truth, and justice would never be realized. And once again, it would be women who would bear the cost of that future world.
But she also knew there was an important secret within the pages of
the Great Mother’s tome. And whatever that secret was would be the tipping point in the fight between good and evil. This world had designated her powerless at birth. But she still had power in the greater fight. And she would not hand it over to this little man, not even as her heart broke at the thought of Dorcas being in their clutches.
“I won’t tell you anything.”
“Then you doom her to your fate.”
Sarah’s throat clogged with emotion, and tears pressed against the back of her eyes. Her silence was her only power. She knew this world was not the important one. This was the schoolroom where people learned the lessons needed to move on to the next. If they did not learn those lessons they were doomed to return over and over. And as she looked at Samuel, she knew he was doomed. His soul would never reach peace.
“She has chosen her own fate.” And as Sarah said the words, she felt their truth. Before we entered this world, we chose the obstacles we would face. Her daughter, her brave, beautiful girl, would suffer. But only in this life, and then she would move on. And she would be free, unlike this man in front of her.
Growling, Samuel stormed over to the door and flung it open. “Take her away. And bring me her daughter.”
The men who’d escorted her earlier grabbed her roughly by the arms and Sarah closed her eyes. I’m sorry, my child. If I could take your place, I would.
CHAPTER 11
The town went wild with talk as soon as the arrests had been made. Puritans did not show excitement. They eschewed public displays and gossip was severely frowned upon. But the arrest of three women for witchcraft was simply too scintillating for people to remain quiet. Meg's grandfather had insisted she stay out of town until the hysteria died down. It had been three weeks now, and she had heard little to nothing about the trials. But she had learned that today was Susan’s trial, and Meg had convinced him to come.
As Meg and her grandfather made their way into town, they’d been informed that Tituba had fingered both Sarah Goode and Susan Osbourne as witches, corroborating the accusations of the girls.
“This is insanity,” her grandfather growled. “Those women are no more witches than you are.”
Meg nodded, fear clogging her throat. When she had learned of Sarah and Susan's arrest, she had been stunned-stunned and terrified. When Sarah had warned them, Meg had managed to convince herself that Sarah's vision was only a possible future, not a guarantee. In fact, she had convinced herself that if she was extra good, she could help avoid the whole catastrophe. But yet again, the world had shown her how useless her actions were in preventing harm. Meg was not one who controlled destiny or fate. She was merely a rudderless ship being pushed along by its whims.
Ahead, Rebecca Nurse's white hair shone in the sunlight as she stood outside the church, clutching the sleeve of her son, Benjamin. Rebecca was seventy-one this year. And Meg had always thought she looked much younger, her energy and vitality giving her a youthfulness. But today, she looked her age as she held onto her son. Meg nodded toward her. “There is Rebecca. I will go speak with her.”
“Yes, yes, go ahead.” Her grandfather turned to speak with a group of men.
Meg hurried across the road and Rebecca turned, her eyes red and filled with tears. “Rebecca? What has happened?”
Rebecca patted her son’s arm. “Will you give us a moment, Benjamin?”
“Of course, Mother.” He nodded at Meg as he took his leave.
“What is it?” Meg asked. Her anxiety grew as Rebecca stayed silent.
“It is Susan Osborne,” she said softly.
“The trial? But she hasn’t even—”
“There will be no trial for Susan. She died last night.”
Meg felt her world tilt. Susan had been the sister who had exposed her to the Greek myths and taught her to see beyond the history written by men, for men. “How?”
“Her husband tried to get her medicine to her. But he could not afford the medicine and the cost of food. He had to choose.”
Meg closed her eyes, imagining Susan’s suffering. One of the cruelest aspects of prison was that inmates had to pay for their food, their beds, medicine, everything. And those that could not did not survive for long.
Rebecca looked toward the prison, a tremor in her voice. “Sarah Goode was with her when she passed. That is one saving grace.”
Meg nodded, not able to speak for a moment overcome with senselessness of Susan's death. What purpose did it serve? What purpose did any of this serve? Images of Susan and her quiet ways filled Meg's mind and hole opened up in her chest. Oh Susan, you did not deserve this. “And the trial for Sarah? Will it still go forward?”
“Yes. And they have arrested someone else.”
“Who?”
“Bridget Bishop.”
Meg frowned. “Bridget?” She was not one of the followers.
“If Sarah is found guilty, they will not hang her right away. She is pregnant. They will allow her to give birth. But I feel the people in this town want to see a witch hang. And Bridget is easy enough to hate.”
Meg knew Rebecca was right. All anyone had been able to speak about these last few weeks was the evil of witches and the need to cleanse this town. The righteous anger of the town was palpable thing and she knew they wanted to act. Susan's death was not allow them that. Tituba was a slave and viewed as a pawn. No, people to strike back. And Bridget, while she was not a sister, but she was not like the other women of Salem. She had been seen flirting with men in the town and was believed to have even slept with some of the men outside the marriage bed. she was a good target for the town's rage.
Meg closed her eyes, feeling the powerlessness of the moment. “What is happening?”
“They say they are trying to root out evil. But all I see is the evil they are perpetrating.” Rebecca paused. “There is one more piece of news. You must prepare yourself.”
“What could be worse than this?”
“They have arrested Dorcas.”
Meg’s mind went blank for a moment, trying to figure out who Rebecca could be speaking of. She only knew one person by that name, and they couldn’t possibly… “She’s only five years old.”
Rebecca nodded. “I believe they are trying to get Sarah to confess by threatening Dorcas.”
“Will she?”
Rebecca shook her head slowly. “No. Sarah knows what is at stake goes beyond even one life. And that each of us chose the crosses we would bear before we arrived in this world. Even Dorcas.”
Meg knew her words were right, but she still felt the ugliness, the cruelness of the moment. Dorcas was a child. She should not have to be exposed to this. “What will we do?”
“There is nothing we can do. We see this through to the end. We protect the legacy. We prepare the way for those coming after us.”
“But surely there must be something more we can do.”
“No, child. This is out of our hands now. It is in God’s.”
Meg looked at the church as a coffin was carried out. Susan. Her heart seemed to stumble and her chest felt heavy as she glanced away from the coffin and toward the sky. Dear God, why are you doing this to your Followers?
Rebecca squeezed her arm gently, which was as much affection as she dared show. “Now clear your eyes, child. And go to your Grandfather. He awaits you.”
Meg nodded, taking a breath. “Be careful, Rebecca.”
Rebecca gazed for a long moment into Meg's eye. “You as well, child.” She slowly headed toward her son.
Meg turned to find her grandfather. She caught sight of him through the crowd and headed toward him. She skirted around a group of young men, keeping her gaze on the ground. This cannot be happening. Her gaze still cast downward, she jumped back as two feet appeared in her view. Hand to her chest, Meg stepped back quickly, her hand to her throat as stared at Ann Putnam. “Ann, I did not hear you approach.”
“I am quiet these days.”
Meg frowned. What a strange thing to say.
Ann tilted her head
, looking toward the coffin before returning her gaze to Meg. “Terrible thing about Susan, is it not? To die that way? Of course, the rest of their deaths will be no less easy.”
Meg’s mouth fell open at her tone. It was so unemotional. “Ann, why would you say such a thing?”
She smiled and leaned forward as if to tell Meg a secret. “The Devil told me to say it,” she whispered.
Meg reared back.
But Ann just laughed. “The Devil is alive and well in Salem, Meg, and he is looking for something. He won’t stop until he finds it. You should remember that.”
Meg backed away from her, her whole body shaking. Then Ann let out a shriek and collapsed to the ground. Everyone turned to look, and Thomas Putnam pushed through the crowd.
“She is killing me, Father!” Ann cried out.
“Who? Who is doing it?” Thomas knelt next to her but didn’t touch her.
“Sarah Goode!” Ann screamed her name and then dropped away into a faint. The crowd murmured angrily around Meg, but she could only stare at the child on the ground. What was happening?
Meg knew that Sarah was not evil. But Ann’s words, her convulsions, they sent a stab of cold right through Meg.
Dear God, what is happening?
CHAPTER 12
Guilty. The word reverberated through Sarah’s mind as she was brought back to her cell. They had found her guilty.
Those girls had stood up in court and lied, accessing her of all sorts of vile acts. And no one had doubted them. These people who she had known for years believed her to be a witch. She knew they held no love for her but to want her dead? And for the life of her, Sarah could not figure out how it had come to this. Why Salem? Why now? And how did the reverend know of the book? He'd questioned her again just before trial asking her about the book. Yet she did not think he was a Fallen. He'd given no indication of it, in fact, he didn't really seem to understand what the book contained. But someone had told him.
Sarah had stared at the crowd watching the trial wondering who had gotten to the reverend. but she had no clue. And there had been so many people. People had come in from other towns to see the trials, the news of them travelling far and wide. Even reverends from other villages had come to watch the spectacle. Sarah saw Reverend Nicholas Noyes. She remembered him from her childhood, a cruel, cold man willing to dispense God’s judgment with a rod for any indiscretion. These trials reaffirmed everything he believed wrong with the wickedness of the women in the world.