by R. D. Brady
“The fault for her condition lies with you.”
Sarah whirled around. “How could you treat a child like this?”
He scoffed. “How could we? How could you? You refused to answer our questions. So we asked your daughter. She was more forthcoming.” Samuel shrugged. “And this was the only place to put her. We couldn’t put her in with the adults. We’re not animals.”
“Not animals!” Sarah lunged at him. “You bas—”
The guards quickly stepped in front of Sarah as he hastily backed away.
“Careful,” he admonished, “or I will put you back in your cell. Now say thank you, witch, for me allowing this kindness of one last visit with your daughter.”
Sarah glared at him.
“The words,” he demanded.
“Thank you,” she spit out through gritted teeth.
He smiled. “See? That was not so hard, was it?”
Sarah stared at the man in front of her. What had happened to him to make him so cruel? She turned back to Dorcas and pushed back her hair, her eyes filling with tears. She kissed her cheeks, whispering in her ear. “I love you, my beautiful girl. For all eternity. And we will see each other again.”
Her daughter of light was now a shell. Her light had been completely snuffed out. That knowledge threatened to swallow Sarah whole, but at the same time she knew Dorcas never would have been spared. Ann would have made sure of that.
There was always a battle between good and evil forces in this world. But one day that final battle would be played out. And for the good to have any chance, the book needed to survive.
And I must remain silent, no matter the cost, she thought as her heart ached.
Right now she, Dorcas, Rebecca, and all the Followers were the soldiers on the front line. Right now the only weapon at their disposal was resistance.
She leaned her forehead into her daughter’s, whispering softly so only she would hear. “You have done well, my child. But your fight is now over. You will be freed soon, and this will be just a horrible memory.”
Dorcas did not stir. Sarah’s heart clutched. Because she knew in that moment that while Dorcas’s body would soon be freed, her mind would be forever locked in this cell.
“It’s time,” Samuel said, his tone hard.
Sarah reached up and ran her hand through her daughter’s hair one more time, cupping her face, but her daughter still did not look at her.
Hide away, my dear. Hide away until the world is safe for you again. She kissed her cheek and then turned to Samuel.
He stood with a smug look on his face. “You could end all of this now. Tell me where the grimoire is and I will spare your life and your daughter's.”
“Who told you I had a grimoire?”
“Ah, so you finally admit it.”
“I admit nothing. But your accusation comes from somewhere. Who told you?”
His gaze shifted to the left for a fraction of a second before they returned to Sarah’s eyes. “No one. It stands to reason if there is a coven, you would have book of spells.” But his eyes told the truth. He was lying. Stupid little man. He was a pawn and didn’t know it.
She turned and spared one last glance at her daughter before stepping into the hallway and heading back toward her cell. She didn’t wait for her guards to instruct her.
“Stop.” Samuel scrambled to catch up.
He had hoped to break her by showing her Dorcas, but it had only strengthened Sarah’s resolve—and her anger. These men of God had tortured a child. They had tortured women with no power. And then claimed they were doing God’s work. It was not God’s work they did. It was the Fallen's. It was ignorance.
“You should repent while there is still time,” Samuel said as he caught up with her.
Sarah stopped and looked pointedly at where her daughter was held and back at Samuel. “No, Reverend, you should be on your knees begging for forgiveness. Although I doubt even God could forgive what you’ve done here. It’s not his work you do. The fires of Hell burn higher awaiting your arrival, not mine, and certainly not my daughter’s.”
And she swept past him, ready to meet her fate. She was done with this world.
CHAPTER 15
Sarah and Rebecca held their heads high as they walked from the cells to Gallows Hill. The other women sniffled behind them, crying and beseeching for forgiveness. Sarah couldn’t condemn their fear. They had been taught they were unimportant, that they did not matter in this world beyond as an extension and example for their men in their family.
But the visit with her daughter coming on the heels of the death of her other daughter had snapped something inside of Sarah. She was truly done with this world. Done with anger, the hate, the bigotry. These small men running around thinking they were in charge when they were ruled by their own closed minds and a demon masquerading as a child.
Next to her, Rebecca gasped and stumbled. Sarah reached out a hand and caught her before she could fall. She looked up and saw Rebecca’s husband, all of her children, and the oldest of her grandchildren.
Sarah leaned into her. “They love you, Rebecca. Let that love strengthen you. They are the legacy you leave behind, not this travesty of justice.”
Rebecca nodded, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. Rebecca's case in particular was a travesty of justice. Rebecca had actually been found not guilty at first. But the girls had a fit in the courtroom and somehow the not guilty had been changed to a guilty verdict. And now here she walked with the other three who’d been found guilty: Sarah Wildes, Susannah Martin, and Elizabeth Howe.
Sarah stepped toward Rebecca to embrace her one last time, but a guard grabbed her by the arm, leading her to where the nooses had been fashioned. They stood blowing in the wind and Sarah was momentarily blinded by the vision of herself and the other women swinging just as briskly.
The judge and magistrates climbed onto the back of a wagon so they could see clearly. And even though their faces looked serious, she could imagine the joy in their eyes. They held the power of life and death in their hands. And they had wielded that power with a callous disregard for the truth.
One of the other women screamed, which set off the rest of the women, who all began to wail in earnest. Three women fell to their knees, their hands clasped, tears pouring down their cheeks. More than one prayed, begging God to forgive their accusers.
Sarah snorted, feeling no such charity for the men who’d placed them here. They’d be paying eternally for that particular action. Reverend Nicholas Noyes walked over to her, looking down his long spotted beak nose at her; the blood capsule had burst over the skin years ago.
“You should pray for forgiveness,” he said. “God will not let you enter the kingdom of Heaven without it.”
Sarah looked away from him.
“You will burn in Hell for all eternity for your actions. You should beg God to show compassion.”
Sarah met his gaze unflinching, even as a vision of the man’s death wafted through her mind. “Compassion for me? Or those who falsely accuse me? It seems my accusers should be the ones on their hands and knees begging for forgiveness, not I.”
The reverend’s mouth became a tight line. “Even now, your arrogance is your undoing. You are a witch and—”
Sarah snorted. “I am no more a witch than you are a wizard, and if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink.”
The reverend stumbled back, his hand to his throat. “You curse me, even now?”
She wanted to grab the man and slap some sense into him. “You are a fool and a sham. You do not do God’s work here today. You do the Devil’s. And you will pay the price for that one day, much more than I will.”
“God have mercy on your soul.”
“Save your pretty words for your own soul. You should pray, no, beg, that God has mercy on yours.”
“Reverend, we are ready,” Thomas Putnam said, his voice hard, but his eyes were harder as they glared at Sarah.
Weak, she thought. You are
weak. And your daughter is a monster.
At the thought of Ann, her thoughts immediately turned to her youngest child, who had never had the chance to take a breath. Perhaps it was best that way. This world was too cruel right now for an innocent soul. Her last image of Dorcas flew into her mind and her heart broke, just as her daughter’s mind had broken. They had terrified and tortured a child in the name of God and rightness. And they saw no hypocrisy in their actions.
Putnam grabbed her arm and started to pull her toward the gallows, where five ropes hung. She shrugged him off. “Do not touch me.”
Thomas glared but let her walk unmolested. The other women were gathered and led to the hill. Each of them sobbed openly and loudly, needing to be practically carried to the hill. Even Rebecca shook, her strength fading at the sight of her family’s devastated faces.
A crowd had gathered, split evenly between devastated family members and angry onlookers. After glancing at the Nurse family, Sarah's gaze scanned the crowd although she knew no one was here for—
Her gaze flew back at the sight of a well-known and most loved face. Meg stood there, her eyes bright with tears, holding on to her grandfather.
Oh, child, you should not be here. Meg was not adept at hiding her emotions. Someone would question why she grieved for women she did not know. She stared into Meg’s eyes. Stay strong, child.
As if hearing her, Meg lifted her chin and gave her a small nod. Sarah pulled her gaze away and faced the noose waiting for her. Images of her children flew through her mind. Know that I loved you and I love you still, she said to each of them in turn as the rope was slipped over her neck.
Then Sarah felt the shove and her feet swung out into open space. The rope tightened and her breath cut off, her lungs struggling to find air that would not come. The last image she had was of Dorcas, broken in her cell.
Forgive me, child. Forgive me.
CHAPTER 16
Meg paced her small attic room. They’re gone. They’re all gone. She pictured Sarah Goode’s face; the commitment on it even as the noose was slipped over her neck.
I am not strong enough, Sarah.
All of the Followers had been arrested now, along with dozens of other. Six had been hung. Sarah Goode’s baby and Susan Osbourne had died in prison.
There was no one left, save her.
I need to move the book. But she didn’t know where to put it.
The bodies of her sisters had been buried where they’d fallen at Gallows Hill. Surely she could not bury the book there. It would be discovered. Fear choked her and she felt as if the walls were closing in. What do I do? She yanked on her hair, her breaths coming out in pants. How was this possible? All of them gone.
All except me.
Their loss crashed down on her, but so too did the responsibility. I have to protect the book. She knew where the book was hidden, but she could think of nowhere to put it where future generations could find it.
If I fail, the world will lose her, too, she thought with despair. She knew that could not happen. Right now, the world felt cruel, unkind. But these dark times would end. Good would shine through if enough good people stood up. Tears flowed down her cheeks. But how will I help fight it back?
The front door slammed and footsteps moved toward the stairs. From the dragging gait, she knew it was her grandfather, but his steps were quicker, more urgent. Oh no. Wiping her tears, she opened her door and hurried down her steep staircase. She stepped onto the second floor landing just as he reached it. He put one hand to his chest, the other grabbing onto the bannister. His knuckles, swollen from the arthritis that plagued him, stood out white against his skin.
“Child,” he panted out.
Hurrying forward, she took his arm and led him into his room and the chair there. “Grandfather, are you all right? Let me get you some water.”
She turned to fill him a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser, but he grabbed her arm stopping her with surprising speed. “There is no time for that.” He took a deep breath and she waited while he composed himself.
“I am barely ahead of them. The magistrate—they are coming. You have been accused.”
Meg stumbled back. “What?”
“Reverend Samuel is on his way with Thomas Putnam and others.”
Meg looked around wildly. It’s too late. How can—
Her grandfather squeezed her arm. “You must give them a name.”
“No, Grandfather, I can’t do that. Witches do not exist. I’d be accusing an innocent woman.”
“Then give them a man. There are plenty who are not innocent.”
Meg stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Why would you say that?”
He looked out the window before turning back to her. “You are your mother’s child. And she was her mother’s. Your grandmother told me about the Followers a long time ago. I never interfered. The more your grandmother told me, the more I agreed with the teachings.”
“You never said anything.”
“No. I thought it was safer, for all of you.”
“They’re all gone, Grandfather, and I have to—” She slammed her mouth shut. It had been ingrained into her from an early age to never speak of the duty of the Followers.
He patted her hand. “I know there are things you cannot tell me. But I also know how important whatever you are guarding is. You are the last one. The duty falls to you.”
Meg’s voice broke. “I cannot do this.”
“You can. You have the strength of your mother and grandmother in you. And some of mine as well. You can do this.” He paused gripping her hand. “And I want you to give them my name.”
She snatched her hand back. “No!”
“I have lived a full life. My bones ache. It is difficult to walk even a flight of stairs. And I would like to see your grandmother and mother again. My time is at an end, and if my death can be used for a greater good, than I cannot think of a better death.”
Tears rolled down Meg’s face. “I would be responsible for your death.”
“No, child. That burden is on Reverend Samuel and the rest who engage in this farce. You, you would be responsible for setting me free from my pain. That will be a gift.”
Movement outside the window pulled Meg’s attention. Samuel was making his way down the small lane to their house. “They are coming.”
Her grandfather stood. “You will give them my name and complete your duty. If you do not, I will confess to being a wizard and I will die anyway. You can give my death meaning, or you can make it as senseless as everyone else’s. But you cannot prevent it.”
He walked out of the room, his walk much slower as he started down the stairs.
Samuel pushed open the gate outside.
I cannot change any of this, Meg thought wildly. And then she pictured her grandfather, his resolve and the resolve of her sisters. She straightened her shoulders even as her heart shredded into millions of pieces. I am the descendant of a long line of strong women. I will not fail them.
She quickly ran down the stairs and stood next to her grandfather, who stood waiting at the front door. She placed her hand in his and then leaned up and kissed his cheek. He looked down at her in surprise and then smiled.
A loud rap sounded at the door. He squeezed her hand, and she felt the tremor in his. But she heard the message he was sending. They were not words said very often in their community. She squeezed his hand back in answer.
I love you, too, Grandfather.
CHAPTER 17
Meg had not been released right after her trial. She had been held for another three days. And for those three days she replayed the image of her grandfather being pulled from the court over and over in her mind.
At that moment, she had barely been able to contain the scream that wanted to burst from her chest, demanding they release him, letting them all know she had lied. But her grandfather's gaze had remained fixed on her, warning her without words not to speak. Tears had trailed down her cheeks a
s she watched him get pulled away.
“There, there, my dear,” the magistrate had said. “Take solace that your grandfather no longer inhabits that vessel. And soon the vessel itself will be destroyed.”
Meg had not known if he thought his words would offer her comfort or if he was being intentionally cruel.
This morning when she had stepped out of the courthouse, it had been quiet. She knew more trials had been conducted and were in fact going on right now. But she was numb to it all. If the trials worked as usual, her grandfather would be tried in two months’ time. But she planned on getting him released long before that.
She would move the book and recant.
No matter what he said, she would not have his death be caused by her words. Even knowing she needed to move quickly to set things into motion, she walked slowly down the steps, grateful for the solitude, her mind spinning. She was not up to speaking with anyone at the moment. She was exhausted both physically and spiritually. And hunger was sapping what little strength she did have. She would go home, eat, rest, and then get to work.
“Hello, Meg.”
Meg whirled around at the voice, her hand to her throat. Ann Putnam sat on the horse railing, one leg swinging as she watched Meg.
“Ann, you scared me. I did not see you there.”
Ann hopped off the railing. “Perhaps I did not want you to see me. Perhaps I was invisible.”
Meg backed away as the girl approached. She had never liked Ann. The girl had always been too arrogant, and her parents had indulged her, much more than Puritans normally would. But now there was something else about the girl—something colder, darker.
“Where are you going?” Ann asked.
“H—home.”
Ann nodded her head before tilting it to the side. “It will be awfully quiet there now, yes?”
Meg didn’t know what to say so she simply turned away from the strange girl and started walking quickly toward her house. A rock slammed into her shoulder, causing her to stumble.
Meg whirled around. “Did you just throw a rock at me?”