A Break With Charity: A Story About the Salem Witch Trials (11 page)

We took our cloaks off in the kitchen and stood in its doorway. We could see into the company room, where everyone was assembled.

Before the hearth, at a long table, sat Reverend Nicholas Noyes from Salem Town, Reverend Parris, and Reverend John Hale from Beverly, along with Magistrates Hathorne and Corwin. Joseph Putnam was on a bench to the side with my father. Flanking the other side of the long table were the elder Ann Putnam and her husband. Then someone announced the girls.

They came in single file. A general murmur went through the room. Young Ann Putnam, Mercy Lewis, Mary Warren, Gertrude Pope, Susannah Sheldon, Mary Walcott, and Elizabeth Booth. Betty and Abigail were already seated but soon got to their feet to stand with the others before the elders.

In the silence one could hear the fire crackle. A gust of wind rattled a casement window. Sun shone in on the polished furniture and pewter candlesticks and danced off the white plaster walls. The scene was not unpleasant. But what followed decidedly was.

Reverend Parris spoke. "Tell us, if you can, who has afflicted you thus."

The girls remained silent. He repeated the question, now directing it to Ann Putnam.

"I am not afflicted, Reverend," she said softly. "I am well."

In the next moment it was as if a hurricane broke loose. For Ann Putnam let out a bloodcurdling scream worthy of an attacking Indian. At the same time she hurled herself onto the floor, and her body writhed in jerking movements.

The room came alive as people cried out. "Silence!" Reverend Parris ordered.

He knelt over Ann to hold her quiet. Her thrashing subsided. Still holding her, he prayed quietly. Then he asked again, "Child, who does this to you?"

There came no answer. She seemed to be in a trance. Reverend Parris lifted her limp body and turned to the other girls. "Tell us," his voice boomed, "who is responsible for this evil?"

The girls just stared at him, their eyes blank and glassy.

Reverend Parris then placed Ann Putnam in her mother's lap. He turned to the girls. He was an imposing figure indeed in his black doublet and hose and breeches and his white collar.

"Someone amongst us is in league with the Devil," he said. "If only we knew who it was. You girls must help us. We will protect you, have no fear. We will guard you night and day if necessary. Tell and you will save your whole village from doom. For one person may, with the help of the Devil, destroy a whole town!"

The girls stood, straight and unseeing. Ann Putnam had come to her senses by now. I saw her uncle Joseph Putnam watching her and frowning. He never took his eyes from her. Several times he seemed about to speak, then held back.

Again Reverend Parris turned to Ann. "Who has come to you through this veil of darkness? Speak, child."

Ann slipped off her mother's lap. "I cannot be certain, but there were times I thought I saw a shape."

A murmur of heightened interest from the spectators. Reverend Parris held up his hand for silence. "Can you name the person whose shape it was?"

"I do not wish," Ann said sweetly, "to injure an innocent person's reputation."

And, oh, the anger flowed through me like a river then. I wanted to run into the room and scream out to all of them that she was lying and what she had told me. I made a move in the kitchen doorway, a gesture of helplessness. And Ann Putnam saw me. She turned slightly and looked across heads to me, just long enough to smile, then she turned away.

But in that smile was all the evil that could exist in God's good sunlight. I felt the energy of it directed at me. And I fell back in silence and in fear.

"We will pray now," Reverend Parris said. "We will pray that God gives these poor, suffering girls the strength to know their tormentors."

There was a shuffling movement as everyone knelt on the hard floor. I felt Johnathan's hand on my wrist, pulling me down.

"O great Lord God," Reverend Parris's voice boomed, "look down on this congregation of sinners. See not our sins but our eternal faith in Your mercy! Smite the unrepentant amongst us with Your just anger, but do not visit that anger on these innocents. Send forth lightenings with rain, but do not turn away from Thy annointed. Behold our plight. Be mindful of our covenant with Thee. We dwell together here in unity to serve Thee. Do not let the scepter of the ungodly abide with the righteous. Do well, O God, unto those amongst us who are true of heart. Move these young ones to name the evil ones who persecute them. Amen."

The whole congregation murmured, "Amen." And just as that was done, Ann Putnam shrieked and threw herself at Reverend Parris.

"They ride on sticks!" she screamed. "They ride on sticks!"

Joseph Putnam was on his feet instantly to seize his niece and hold her firm. I thought I saw him give her a good shake, but I could not be sure of it.

"Who?" Reverend Parris knelt in front of her while her uncle held her firm. "Who rides on sticks? Tell us!"

From a corner by the fireplace, where she had taken refuge in a chair, his own daughter, little Betty, came to her feet and walked toward him as if in a dream.

"Tituba," she said in that frail voice. "It is Tituba who torments us."

One after another, the afflicted girls picked up the name and chanted it. "Tituba, yes, Tituba."

Reverend Parris raised his hands over his head. "Dear God, have I then housed the Devil's helper under my own roof?"

"It is not only Tituba." Mercy Lewis broke the silence that followed. "Others are with her. I can see them."

"Who? Name the others." Reverend Parris turned to Mercy and pulled her to him. "Name them now and save this town from ruin!"

Mercy exchanged glances with the other girls, who nodded to her. "Sarah Good!" Mercy shouted. "Sarah Osbourne! Tituba!"

The din that followed quickly became an uproar in the room as all the girls took up the chorus and, raising their arms over their heads, danced around Reverend Parris, chanting, "Sarah Good, Sarah Osbourne, Tituba!"

This continued for about three minutes. Johnathan Hathorne and I just stared at each other. I felt my face go white, my knees go weak. "Johnathan, take me out of here," I said.

Outside, in the brightness of midday, I saw the flash of a red bird on a nearby bush, felt the cold air on my face, saw the blue sky. I was surprised to see the world was still the same, that the trees hadn't become uprooted in the uproar and the snow hadn't turned to black mush.

"You're trembling," Johnathan said.

I looked up into his handsome, ruddy face. "There was evil in that room, Johnathan. I could feel it."

"The elders will root it out. They will issue warrants now for the arrest of the witches."

"Arrest?" I stared at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "Arrest Tituba? Why, she is only a poor slave who took good care of her charges."

"She was practicing the black arts."

Words of defense for Tituba died on my lips. I could not speak for her without revealing what I knew. "Sarah Good? They've named her because her husband is landless and she wanders the town begging. She has no means, no one to stand up for her."

"She has been named," he said.

"Sarah Osbourne? What of her?"

"My father said she has been under suspicion for a while. She never goes to Meeting. She took William Osbourne into her home and lived with him before marriage, thereby committing offenses against decency."

I could not believe these words of accusation were coming out of Johnathan! "Have you been so influenced by your father?" I asked. "Sarah and William Osbourne are now married. She doesn't go to Meeting because she is bedridden!"

He took my hands into his own. "Susanna, don't let this upset you. Let the matter be dealt with by learned men. You yourself said you felt the evil in that room."

"The evil I felt, Johnathan, was the crying out on innocent people."

"They will be given a chance to prove their innocence."

"You've said the magistrates will not give them rights to counsel. Johnathan, do you believe in witchcraft?"

The whole idea was unthinkable to me. And my whole being filled with fear as I awaited his answer.

"Yes," he said solemnly. "Witches make covenant with the Devil instead of with God. They are set amongst us to do the Devil's bidding."

"And you believe that we now have witches amongst us in Salem?"

"Yes, Susanna. Why else would everyone be here today in this gathering?"

My senses reeled from his admission. How could he believe such? He was so quick of mind, so strong of purpose. I started to cry. He tried to comfort me as we walked around the house. We went to sit in my carriage and wait for Father. He tucked the bed rug around me and spoke of other matters. But I would not be comforted. Something terrible had happened this day in Salem; some darkness worse than night had been released upon us. And I alone knew the truth and could bring light into that darkness.

But I had to protect my family, so I could not speak out.

People were coming out of the parsonage in ones and twos. I caught murmurs of conversation as they went by.

"What has happened?" Johnathan asked one of them.

"Haven't you heard? Hello, Susanna."

I took my hands from my face, and there was John Dorich. "The magistrates are in there issuing warrants for the arrests of the three named witches. I told you, didn't I, Susanna? Those girls have power now!" And he ran off.

"What does he mean by that?" Johnathan asked.

"Nothing. He's just as addle-brained by this as all the rest of you."

"I do not consider myself addle-brained, Susanna."

"You believe in witches," I accused. "And I don't. This is all hysteria, and men of goodwill should stop it."

"They are trying," he insisted. "I'm sorry you are so upset, Susanna. I'm sorry I can't please you and say I don't believe in witches."

"Believe as you wish!" I snapped.

He climbed down from the carriage. "May I come to call?"

I could not answer. How could I bear having him around, prattling about his father trying the accused witches? "I don't much care," I said finally.

"Well, there is no merit in that answer. I'll give you time, Susanna. I'll be too busy, mayhap, helping my father."

"I'm sure you will be."

"Good day and keep well, Susanna." With that tender parting, he was gone. I sat there lonely and miserable and cold, watching the people come out of the parsonage. They were pausing to huddle in small groups, loath to let go of the excitement.

"Hello, Susanna English."

Abigail Hobbs was coming toward the carriage. "I didn't see you inside," she said. "Isn't this a lark? I came to see what could shock these good folk more than my staying out in the woods at night. I must confess, I'm a little jealous."

"Of what, Abigail?"

"I feel as if I've been shunted aside like stale fish. Nobody will care a fig about my actions after this."

"Don't be silly, Abigail. It's all confusion and mayhem."

"I love confusion and mayhem. I do what I do to raise eyebrows. I take pride in upsetting the town elders. Now I see I'm going to have to resort to additional methods to keep my reputation."

"Abigail, stop talking nonsense."

"You're such a little dove, Susanna. What do you know, living in that grand house with so many servants and going on trips to Boston with your father? The rest of us young people hereabouts must find our sport where we may."

I stared at her in disbelief. So, then, Abigail Hobbs, too, had simply been trying to break the dreariness of our way of life by her antics. What other revelations was I to become privy to? And how could I bear any more?

"Oh, have you heard?" she asked. "They'll be examining the accused witches tomorrow! And I hear Reverend Parris had Tituba confined to the cow shed."

Tituba! I had completely forgotten to ask John Indian where she was and how she was keeping. Oh, how could I have been so heartless! Tituba, yes, that was it. I must find Tituba.

I looked around and saw Father off with some men, deep in conversation. He would be a while yet. So I slipped out of the carriage, past Abigail, and ran around the side of the parsonage, careful to keep out of sight.

I must get to see Tituba. I must convince her to tell what she knew. Only Tituba could save us now.

SHE LOOKED AT
me through one good eye. The other was swollen closed. In the corner of the cow shed, Tituba sat on some clean straw covered with a blanket. Another blanket was drawn around her hunched shoulders. The shed was closed and dim, and John Indian held a lantern.

"Tituba, is this what the good reverend did to you?" I asked.

For a moment she did not recognize me, then I saw an intelligent light in her eye. "Ah," she said, "the little girl from the house with all the gables."

"Oh, Tituba, how cruel of him. How can I ever go to Meeting and hear him preach again?"

"Not the first time he does such a thing," she said.