A Break With Charity: A Story About the Salem Witch Trials (15 page)

Mama was at peace. It was as if the fearful event that had been weighing down on her for weeks had finally happened and nothing could hurt her anymore. She sat with us at breakfast as if nothing was amiss, giving instructions to Mary and me as to the running of the household and the shop, as if she was going on a pleasure trip to Boston.

She called in the servants and gave them instructions. "The herbs must be planted in the kitchen garden," she instructed them. "Farming in all of Salem has been sadly neglected this spring because of this witch business. Deborah, you are in charge of the house servants, and you will report to Mary or Susanna. They know what must be done."

We had morning devotions, and then she went with the marshals. Father promptly got into his own carriage and left to see what could be done about Mama's arrest. The house was cold and empty. I ached with the loneliness of it. How could this have happened? Mama gone? She had always been here.
How could they take my mother?

I put on my cloak. "Where are you off to?" Mary asked.

"To see Johnathan," I lied. "Mayhap he can talk to his father."

Once again it was Mercy Lewis who let me in the Putnam house. I could not help noticing some change in her. Always a tall girl but previously rather stoop-shouldered, she now stood erect and proud. Her voice was stronger, her movements sure.

"You are a friend of Abigail Hobbs, are you not?" she asked.

"I knew her in dame school," I said.

"She has brought her condition on herself. She always disparaged community decency." And it was as if, in that dimand candle-lit hallway, Abigail Hobbs was already condemned. I yearned to tell this arrogant girl the real reason for Abigail's past behavior. But I bit back my words. Everything one said to them, they used against one.

"She's no more a witch than I am," I said.

"We have named her."

"Does that make her a servant of the Devil?"

"We are believed." She smiled at me. "Abigail has named her parents as witches. This day they were taken with your mother and Edward Bishop, stepson of Bridget; his wife, Sarah; Mary Esty; Sarah Cloyce; and Sarah Wilds."

"You have been busy, I see."

"They are confessing."

"To save their lives. But my mother will never confess! You won't get away with this!"

"Get away with what?" Young Ann Putnam appeared in the hall. One minute she was not there and the next she was, rooted in the flickering shadows.

I was trembling with loathing. "You promised me that if I kept my mouth sealed, you would not cry out on my family!"

She smiled and tilted her head. Her eyes glittered. "I have not broken charity with you."

"You named my mother a witch!"

"Yes." And she sighed sadly. "It was something that had to be done."

I had never known such rage. I felt it boiling in my veins, one with my blood. How dare this pale, sickly slip of a girl, this half woman who was so enmeshed in evil, assume the power of defaming the innocent? I stood there clenching and unclenching my fists. I wanted to jump on her, to seize her and choke the life out of her, and if they named me a witch, so be it.

Ann Putnam stepped forward. "Your mother sealed her fate the day she sat with Sarah Cloyce in church. Your silence could no longer protect her."

"Do you know so little of love and charity that you cannot distinguish it from evil?"

"We do the Lord's work," she answered simply. "An army of devils is horribly broke in upon this place. And the houses of the good people are filled with the doleful shrieks of their children and servants. The Devil is about to make his last struggle for dominion in our world, fulfilling the prophecies of David and the mystery of the Apocalypse."

"You are mad," I said. "Pure and simple. You are demented." I looked from her to Mercy. "All of you are mad."

"We must expose Satan's servants," Ann Putnam went on as if I hadn't spoken. "Witches abound in Salem and Topsfield, and if those named deliver other names to us, they will serve their purpose and be forgiven."

"My mother needs no one's forgiveness," I lashed out at her. "Least of all yours."

"She has put away God's ordinances. She has befriended a witch. It was our duty to name her."

I stared at the two of them. And then a thought came to me like the wind across the sky, pushing the dark clouds of anger out of the way. "You believe what you are doing," I said in cold wonder. And I felt the uselessness of argument. For if this was true, if the girls in the circle had indeed started believing their own lies, then all was lost.

"Of course," she answered. "Why should we not? Do you think we take this charge from the Lord lightly?"

"It started as sport," I reminded her. "The last time we spoke, you said you had accepted the diagnosis of the evil hand on you to get attention."

"We were not sensible yet of what was happening with us. We thought it sport. But when we name people, they confess to horrible doings we do not even accuse them of. And when an accused witch confesses, a great peace comes over us."

I looked from Ann to Mercy. "You have become enamored with your own lies," I said.

They both shrugged.

"You are drunk with your own powers. But what of Mary Warren, who still languishes in prison? She knows right from wrong. What if she tells that you all dissemble?"

"She will not tell," Ann Putnam said. "She is not strong enough. She knows the only way to save herself now is to come back into the circle. She will reaffirm everything we say, or we will destroy her."

I drew in my breath sharply. It felt like a knife in my chest. "Is there no heart left in you to appeal to, Ann?"

I meant it. If there was the smallest chance that I could humble myself before her, I would do it. I would do it for Mama. Though I loathed this girl thoroughly.

"My heart is pure," she insisted. "I rest assured that we are giving our ministers and magistrates and elders what they crave."

I turned to go. Mercy handed me my cloak. "You will not get my mother in your evil web," I told Ann. "I don't know what I will do, but I will do something."

She saw me to the door and smiled sweetly. "Do not attempt to tell lies about us, Susanna English, or the rest of your family will be named. You have a sister, remember. And a father. And a brother, due back any day now from a sea voyage, am I correct?"

I stood on the stone threshold outside the door as a gust of wind came around the corner of the house. I looked to the sky. A huge black cloud covered the sun. When I had entered the house, the sky had been a clear blue.

Her smile sickened me. "Your mother went willingly with the marshals this morning. She was saying something about paying gladly for her sins and would accept this penance rather than lose your brother. Your mother has made her peace with the Lord. I would not interfere, were I you. Or others in your family will be named."

I knew I could not speak out now. For these girls did, indeed, have some dark powers. And they could hurt the rest of my family. I turned and fled, got into my cart, and rode away without looking back.

AS MOLASSES
bounded through the familiar lanes of Salem Village, the sights of budding trees and pussy willows and colorful flowers pushing their heads up through meadow grasses flashed by. Spring had come, but in my heart it was still winter.

I saw these signs of new life all around me as blasphemy. How could nature honor us with such hope when ugliness and the rotting nature of evil had their grip on this place?

"Susanna! Susanna English!" I heard my name called but did not pull in the reins.

"Susanna, is the Devil himself chasing you?"

And then Johnathan Hathorne was beside me, running to keep pace with my cart. I pulled up on the reins, and once Molasses stopped, I became sensible of the fact that tears were coming down my face, that my hat and cloak were askew, my hair loose and ragged.

"Susanna, what ails you? You were going at a breakneck speed. If your horse had tripped, you could have been killed."

His familiar and dear voice cut through my restraint, and I felt the hot tears flow.

"Susanna. I know. I heard what happened. Dear Susanna, these are dark circumstances, indeed. I went to your house, and Mary told me you had gone out to seek me. I've been looking for you, to comfort you."

He touched my shoulder, and my remaining restraint fled. In the next instant, I was leaning out of the cart and he was holding me in his arms.

"Susanna, I curse the fates that cause my father to be part of this! When I heard that he had issued the warrant for your mother's arrest, I stormed out of the house, but not before we had the worst of confrontations. All the servants were cowering in corners. It wouldn't surprise me if the door were barred against me this night."

He lifted me out of the cart and held me close for a moment, quieting my tears. "Don't despair. I hear your father is pursuing every means to help your mother. His carriage drew up at our door right after I left."

"Do you think your father gave him any hope?"

"I don't know what transpired between them. But Phillip English is not without power and influence, you know."

"The afflicted girls are the ones with all the power, Johnathan. Whatever they say, they are believed."

"Don't lose hope. There is still much hidden. It will come out in the trials."

"Do you think so, Johnathan?"

"I am sure of it. As sure as I am of another matter."

"What is that?"

"That you have, in me, a friend, Susanna. That I can't bear to witness your tears. That I will come at any hour of the day or night, with my sword if necessary. You have only to send a servant for me."

His strong hands held mine, warm and reassuring. He was so innocent, I minded, to think he could strike with his sword the malignancy that had come to live amongst us. But his words did warm me and lift the anguish from my heart.

At home a fire burned cheerily in the company room, for the day had turned overcast. Deborah was setting bread and cheese and meat and wine out on our dining board, and she summoned Mary and me for a noon repast.

As we waited at the table for Father, I felt a renewed flush of despair when my eye fell on Mama's empty chair. But then the front door burst open and Father came in. "Daughters, there is good news! I have a letter from William!"

William? Joy replaced my pain. The room seemed to brighten. "And there is more news," Father said, taking his place at the head of the table and pouring some wine. "I went to Magistrate Hathorne this morning. I gained a special indulgence for your mother. She will not be sent to Salem Prison. She is at the Cat and the Wheel. She has her own room there, and we may go and see her tomorrow before she is examined."

"Oh, the Cat and the Wheel is a commodious tavern," Mary said. "Surely this is a good sign. Can't we go this afternoon?"

"Nay, I go alone this afternoon. We have much to speak of."

"Then you must bring her some fresh bread and cheese and broth," Mary suggested.

As he read us William's letter, between sips of claret, the room seemed to fill with a lightness, as if the sun had come out. Every object stood out with a clarity of form heretofore unknown to me. And hearing William's words, which had come to us from far across the sea, I pondered: There
are
forces in the world that we cannot see, and they are for good as well as for evil. And I sensed, with an inner certainty, that the forces of good were far more powerful than the forces of evil.

However, William was writing from prison in Guadeloupe, where he had languished now for these past six months awaiting trial as a pirate.

"A day's sailing from Barbados," Father read, "when we were heading for Martinique, a suspicious ship appeared on the horizon and gave chase. As the distance between us closed, I saw she flew a skull and crossbones from her forepeak. I ordered all hands to ready the cannon. We fired at the pirate vessel and our six pounders did her much damage, but she continued on toward us.

"She came closer and closer, as if borne by some winds we had no benefit of. It was an eerie experience. Finally, this parcel of mongrel thieves overtook the
William and Susanna,
boarded us by throwing grapnels across to our ship, and made their way across our decks. My crew fought bravely. In the brawl that followed, the pirates lost more men than we. But too many of us were wounded. And these pirates, who use their vengeful power without the least respect for humanity, forced us to join their ranks, since their crew was diminished.

"They took us aboard. I am sorry to say, Father, that they scuttled the
William and Susanna
after taking all the goods in her hold. I was wounded and allowed to recover, but once improved I was forced, with the rest of my men, to take part in sailing their galleon. We were part of their hellish crew for at least six weeks. Then, one night, when the waters were becalmed and we were off the coast of French-owned Guadeloupe, my men were in charge while theirs were sleeping. We headed the ship into a light wind, lashed the wheel, and dropped a small boat over the side with provisions and firearms. Then we rowed for shore.