Supernatural 7 - One Year Gone

by Rebecca Dessertine

  The widow arrived some twenty minutes later, already upset. Abigail hadn’t returned home from a quilting circle she had attended at the Putnam household with a couple of other girls the previous evening. Her mother thought perhaps she had stayed the night with the girls and would return home today, but she had not.

  Nathaniel gently explained to her what had happened and showed the widow her daughter’s body. Straight away she began to wail and weep. Nathaniel spoke to her in calm tones, telling her that he should administer the Last Rites immediately. Eventually she seemed to understand and nodded, allowing the doctor and the other man to help her into another room.

  Nathaniel closed the door behind them then went to the window and opened it. His sons waited beneath.

  “Hand me my bag. I haven’t much time,” Nathaniel directed.

  They swiftly hoisted their father’s large leather bag in through the window, and Nathaniel got to work. First he examined the girl’s limbs looking for any strange bites or marks, besides the obvious cut through her throat. He found nothing. There was no smell of sulfur or scorching around the mouth, so no demons had been involved with her death.

  Next Nathaniel took some herbs from his bag. He sprinkled them over the girl’s body, lit a candle and chanted some Latin phrases. Nothing happened. Nathaniel looked at her palms and feet—nothing suspicious there either.

  Finally he checked the back of her neck, and gently probing with his fingertips he realized something very strange—her neck was completely limp.

  Nathaniel went briefly into the other room to speak to the widow, and thank the doctor and the man. He then took his leave.

  When their father emerged from the house, Caleb and Thomas jumped onto the cart. Nathaniel reigned the horses in silence, and the boys knew better than to speak to their father when he was deep in thought.

  Once they were near the edge of the village, Nathaniel spoke.

  “Her neck was completely broken,” he stated.

  “Broken?” Caleb asked.

  “Like a chicken’s. But there wasn’t any bruising. Usually, such as with a hanging, there would be bruising,” Nathaniel mused darkly.

  “How was it broken?” Thomas asked.

  Nathaniel shook his head.

  “There’s one obvious way to break a neck without touching someone.”

  “Black magic?” Caleb hazarded.

  “Exactly.” His father nodded.

  “Didn’t her mother say that she was at a quilting circle at the Putnam household?” Thomas offered.

  “Indeed,” Nathaniel said. “You boys go round to the Putnam house. Take some eggs. Say you want to trade with them. Find out when exactly Abigail Faulkner was there last. Also, look for any signs of witchery.”

  “Yes, sir, right away,” Thomas said. He grabbed his brother, climbing off the cart and pulling Caleb after him. They grabbed a basket of fresh eggs off the back of the cart. In their line of business it was wise to always carry something to trade.

  The boys waved goodbye to their father and trudged through deep snow back toward the village.

  The Putnam house was just off Old Meetinghouse Road. When they reached the residence, they climbed the steps to the imposing front door and knocked determinedly. The echoing sound of their knocking was followed by a piercing scream from inside the building, then the heavy tromp of boots could be heard approaching the front door. There was another scream, and then a man with a long nose and a small birdlike bridge to his face opened the door.

  It was Reverend Parris. His face was wracked with pain.

  “What is it, boys?” Reverend Parris asked.

  “We’ve come to trade some eggs and perhaps speak to Anne and Prudence? Is everything all right?” Thomas asked boldly, trying to peer around the figure of the clergyman to see what was happening inside.

  Just then another scream came from inside the house and Anne Putnam, a small twelve-year-old girl, appeared behind Reverend Parris. She had a wild look in her eyes. She looked at Caleb, them being the same age, then grabbed his arm and tried to pull him into the house. Reverend Parris protested, grasping the girl’s wrist and freeing Caleb.

  Mr. Putnam, Anne’s father, emerged into the hallway and the two men conferred briefly. Thomas and Caleb watched from the doorway.

  “Come, come, you’ve come just in time,” Ann cried to Caleb. “See, see them there? Look how they scream at me. There, there! Up in the rafters!” She pointed toward the ceiling. The boys stepped cautiously into the hallway but when they looked up, they could see nothing unusal.

  Another young girl, Prudence, who the boys knew to be Anne’s close friend, emerged from the shadows. She too seemed to be on the verge of hysteria. She cried out and fell on the ground, her body twisting into severe shapes and her tongue rolling out of her mouth.

  As if suddenly noticing the boys’ presence, the Reverend pushed them back out of the front door.

  “We have no time for you, boys,” he said. “Evil is upon us.” Just as he shut the door they heard Reverend Parris say to Mr. Putnam, “The same affliction has come to my house. My daughter and servant girl too scream out. It’s witches I tell you. Satan has come to Salem.”

  As the boys went back down the steps, Thomas turned toward his younger brother.

  “I think Anne Putnam has taken a shine to you.”

  Caleb smirked at his brother’s sense of humor.

  “Are you saying only a girl afflicted by an unseen force would like me?”

  “Yes,” Thomas said matter-of-factly. “Let’s go tell Father that it seems these girls are troubled by witches.”

  FIFTEEN

  Nathaniel Campbell and his family sat around the rough-hewn dinner table in front of the large hearth. The family was in deep discussion about the current events. Rose Mary Campbell filled everyone’s bowls with soup and a large crust of bread.

  “I heard they’ve accused Parris’s servant, Tituba, as well as Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne, of witchery,” Hannah said. She was the eldest child, a well-mannered, quick-witted, fearless whip of a girl.

  Though she was often left behind by Nathaniel and the boys on some of their more dangerous hunts, Hannah always made herself useful. She was fluent in four languages, including the local Indian dialect, which had helped her learn some of their religious practices. Her father relied on her to figure out many of the spells and books that they referenced.

  “So we know that Abigail Faulkner and Reverend Parris’s daughter attend a quilting circle with Anne Putnam and Prudence Lewis,” Hannah continued.

  “And all four of those girls are claiming to be afflicted by witches,” Nathaniel said.

  “Poor Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, and Tituba. There will be a trial for those three I’m sure,” Rose Mary said. “Nothing gets Reverend Parris in more of a tizzy than the talk of evil. It is strange though, I’m sure they are just old women.”

  “Are they witches, Father?” Thomas asked.

  “I can’t be sure. I’ll try a marking spell on them, if I can get close to them at the trial. That should tell us for certain,” Nathaniel replied.

  “I can’t imagine that those women are witches,” Hannah said. “Tituba seems like such a simple woman when I see her in the village.”

  “Well then, who is afflicting the girls?” Caleb asked.

  Hannah shrugged. “If I were a witch I wouldn’t be caught so easily. Don’t you think, Father?”

  “The girls claim to be able to see the women afflicting them,” Nathaniel observed.

  “Well, I can say a lot of things. I can say I see a horse with a lilac coat on in front of me. That doesn’t mean it’s true,” Hannah countered.

  “I’ll try a marking spell on the three women. Then we’ll know for sure,” Nathaniel repeated.

  “Do you think those women killed Abigail Faulkner?” Thomas asked.

  Nathaniel thought about it for a moment.

  “I think we can be sure that whomever killed Abigail is also afflicting the girls.”


  * * *

  A couple of days later, Reverend Parris’s servant Tituba, a slave he had brought with him to Salem from his time in the West Indies, was taken to the meetinghouse, along with the elderly Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne.

  A great crowd gathered outside. Whispers of gossip swept through the people: four innocent girls were afflicted with horrible visions and manipulations by the women. They must be witches, the people murmured.

  In the colonies, witchcraft was punishable by hanging, though in the past when accusations of witchcraft had erupted, no one had been hanged. But a particular fear struck everyone in the late winter of 1692.

  All of New England was undergoing social and political upheaval and Salem had undergone a series of severe strains: The English and their impositions; as well as the raids by King Philip, the leader of the Wampanoag Indians, and his men, already had everyone on edge; and a smallpox epidemic had swept through much of New England.

  On top of that, it had been a particularly cold winter and the people of Salem were desperate to escape their small smoky houses. Salem was infused with gossip and dispute, the people were restless and volatile and ready to believe the worst of their neighbors.

  Nathaniel and his children pushed their way through the throng of people outside and managed to find standing places in the back of the meetinghouse. The interior of the building was carefully designed to instill fear into those being tried.

  Along the far back wall two severe and imposing male figures, the judges, sat behind a long table. To the right of the table was a small platform with a banister, where the afflicted girls sat. The magistrates instructed the girls to face forward, toward them, but when the three accused women were brought in, the girls turned around and at the very sight of the women, started to writhe and scream. They pointed at the accused and cried that they had come to them as specters and asked them to sign the book of Satan. They claimed that when they refused, the women started to bewitch them.

  Nathaniel, Hannah, Thomas, and Caleb carefully watched the young girls’ theatrics and observed the fear in the eyes of the accused women. The four girls seemed to be completely caught up in their own game. If one of the old women bent down, all the girls bent down and screamed that they were being forced to bend against their will. If one of them turned her head, all the girls screamed and turned their heads at unnatural angles.

  To the crowd in the meetinghouse, watching with gasps of horror and mutterings about Satan, this was proof enough that the older women were witches. But the Campbell clan wanted further proof.

  Nathaniel bent low and slipped two bags of herbs and oils into Hannah and Caleb’s hands.

  “You’re going to have to get close to the women,” he murmured softly. “See if you can’t push your way to the front of the crowd. Place the bags under their chairs. I will then try to get close enough to do the rest.”

  The children elbowed their way through the dense crowd. When they neared the front, Caleb burrowed his way forward until he was directly behind Tituba’s chair. He bent down as if to tie his shoelaces and quickly placed the bag in a corner of the chair spokes.

  Being of slight build, Hannah managed to do the same for both Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne, with ease. She then slipped back through the crowd to her father’s side.

  As a fully-grown man, Nathaniel found it more difficult to get through the crowd. But eventually he reached the accused women. Trying to not to draw attention to himself, he began his chant, whispering just loudly enough for the marking spell to take effect.

  “Nathaniel Campbell,” a deep voice called out over the din of the crowd and screaming girls, “are you also possessed by witches?”

  Nathaniel looked up and caught the eye of his questioner, John Hathorne, who was one of the judges, though he had no formal legal experience. The man’s air was stately and his voice boomed over the packed meetinghouse.

  “No sir,” Nathaniel replied, his voice calm and clear. “I am praying for the girls that they will be freed from their bewitching.”

  This answer seemed to satisfy Hathorne and he nodded and turned back to the inquest. Nathaniel finished the chant. He then crouched down behind the women’s chairs and peered at the palms of their hands. There were no marks.

  Satisfied, Nathaniel retreated and signaled to his children to leave.

  They returned home in their cart through the village, which was semi-deserted since most of the people of Salem were still thronging around the meetinghouse.

  “Those magistrates are idiots,” Thomas declared. “Can’t they see that those women aren’t hurting the girls?”

  “Then who is?” Caleb put in.

  “Do you think they are putting on a show, Father?” Hannah asked.

  “I’m not sure if they are faking or not,” Nathaniel stated. “But I am sure that those three women aren’t witches. There was no marking spot on any of their palms. Which means either those girls are making it up or it is someone or something else harassing them.”

  “But who would be doing that?” Thomas asked.

  “I guess we will have to wait and see,” Nathaniel replied.

  SIXTEEN

  Less than a week after the hearing, Thomas and Caleb were walking home from town. It was late in the day so they decided to take a shortcut in order to reach home before dark. The land they cut across belonged to Constance Ball, a tall, well-spoken haughty woman who was known to be very wealthy. Some in Salem said she had colluded with the French and the Dutch, and those associations had brought her great riches; other townspeople whispered that she had had much more sinister beginnings.

  Constance Ball’s land stretched for a couple of miles around the large and imposing house that she owned. The boys walked quickly and carefully around the tree line, wary, as they knew they were trespassing.

  As they rounded the back of the property, the boys noticed the Ball family graveyard. Like many homesteads a graveyard was kept on the family land, but this one struck the Campbell boys as strange—they could see two unearthed graves on the small plot of land on the edge of the pasture. Knowing their father would want to learn more, the boys crept closer and saw two old headstones, each with a death date carved on it. Was someone digging up dead bodies?

  Thomas and Caleb realized immediately that they had discovered something important. They ran the rest of the way home. When they arrived, Nathaniel was just taking his horse out.

  “Father, we have something to tell you,” Caleb said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

  “Not now boys. Another body was found,” Nathaniel said, pulling himself into his saddle. “I’ve got to go examine it and see if the neck is broken.”

  “We cut through Constance Ball’s land and found two graves,” Thomas said quickly. “The bodies had been unearthed. The ground was all dug up.”

  “Are you sure?” his father asked, leaning down from his saddle.

  They nodded.

  “Well then, that’s something else to investigate,” Nathaniel said.

  “Can we come with you?” Thomas asked eagerly.

  “Aren’t you two chilled to the bone? I won’t be back until long after dark.”

  “I’d rather go with you,” Caleb said.

  Nathaniel shrugged and hoisted Caleb up onto a small half-saddle that sat forward on the horse and moved off, Thomas jogged by their side.

  When they arrived at Reverend Parris’s parsonage, Nathaniel sent the boys to the back of the house. He was going to try to convince Reverend Parris that he should be allowed to see the latest body, but if he could not, the boys would have to try and get a look at it another way.

  Shivering in the cold and dark but eager to see the latest developments, Thomas and Caleb peeked through those windows they could reach.

  Inside the house, Nathaniel spoke with Reverend Parris.

  “Reverend, if I may, I’d like to see the latest body that was found.”

  “Absolutely not. Can’t you see what disarray my hous
e is in?” Reverend Parris threw his arms wide. Just then, a female screamed upstairs. “As you know, my daughter and servant girl are bewitched by those vile women.”

  “But the women are incarcerated—has this not stopped the affliction?” Nathaniel questioned.

  Reverend Parris stared at Nathaniel.

  “Satan does not rest in one place, Nathaniel. He can live anywhere, bewitch anyone. There are more witches in Salem and I aim to find them.”

  “And I would like to help you. But I can only do that if I see the body.”

  “The dead man was a transient. No one in town knows him. He is of no use to you,” the clergyman said.

  “How did Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne, and your own Tituba, kill this transient then? If they were not familiar with him, how would they have done such a thing? They’ve been in the Salem Town jail since the week before last.”

  * * *

  Observing through the windows that their father was having little success in persuading the Reverend to let him view the body, Thomas and Caleb found their way into the root cellar beneath the house. There they found the dead body of the strange man lying on the straw floor. The cellar was dark and stuffed with cured meats and roots. A single candle illuminated the corpse.

  “Feel his neck,” Caleb commanded his older brother.

  “You do it,” Thomas said.

  “You’re always saying you should get to do more things because you’re older. Now is your chance.” Caleb smirked.

  Thomas crept reluctantly toward the body and gingerly reached his hand behind the dead man’s neck.

  “He’ll get stiff now,” a small voice said from a dark corner of the cellar. “He’s been dead over an hour.”

  Thomas stumbled back from the body. Caleb caught him by the arm before he crashed into a shelf of glass jars.

  Prudence Lewis stepped out into the faint candlelight. She stared hard at the boys.

  “You scared us,” Thomas declared angrily.