Entranced

by Marion Clarke

  The girls exchanged swift glances like a signal and moved apart. One strong-faced young lady stepped forward. "I am Ann Putnam. We are the original afflicted girls. Now, of course, there are many more unfortunate people who are plagued by Satan."

  There were gasps of awe, whispers, fingers pointing from all the men and women travelers.

  "There may be others, but your words carry the most weight in Salem's witch hunt." The driver leaned forward, eyeing each girl with avid curiosity while excited ripples continued to course throughout the sightseers.

  "True but—" Suddenly, Ann's strident tones mounted in volume. "Hark! I feel some witches are near right now!"

  Immediately, a moan surged from the collected girls. Their bodies began bending and writhing. Shrill screams tore from twisted lips. Arms and legs jerked and shuddered convulsively. Sweat poured down the grimacing, wracked faces.

  Fiona grabbed Charity up in her arms, staring in horrified disbelief while the child hid her face with stifled sobs.

  Fiona felt her every sense was reeling. How could a human being turn its head around to such an angle? And the abnormal length that one girl's tongue protruded from her slack and gurgling mouth!

  Was she really seeing this? Could it possibly be some kind of an illusion?

  "I see a witch approaching," Abigail Williams shrieked. "Oh, no! It's pinching Mercy Lewis!"

  With an unearthly howl, Mercy dropped like a stone, clutching at herself and shrieking as though she was in mortal agony.

  The spectators began to scream and sob. Some hid their eyes, but all seemed reluctant to abandon the scene.

  One by one, each girl fell to the ground. Some slid along the ground like reptiles. Some bellowed thunderously like stricken, suffering animals. Some bit themselves until the blood poured from hands, ears, and arms.

  The spectators finally had had enough; the cries came fast and anguished: "No more!"

  "I've seen enough!"

  "Lord, save us from the Devil!" The men on horseback whipped around, their faces ashen, and pounded back the way they had come. Soon the wagons followed them, the passengers now hysterical with terror as they sobbed and prayed.

  Finally, when the dust had settled over the empty road, all the girls miraculously recovered. They straightened garments and wiped the blood away, their faces once more pale and calm.

  Fiona clutched the frightened Charity while her mind sought for an explanation of the terrifying experience. She couldn't understand it. What had she really seen? Was it just a sham? Were the girls only pretending to feel pain and terror? Did they lie when they claimed to be seeing witches? But how could anyone fake such contorted movements, such sustained bestial howling, the blood upon their hands and faces?

  "I'm so scared—" Charity sobbed.

  "So am I." Gathering her courage, Fiona stepped from the shelter of the tree, but before she could gain the road, one of the girls spied her and whispered to the others.

  At once, Ann Putnam lifted her long neck in a strange, snakelike movement. "Who are you?" she hissed. Without waiting for an answer, the girl's eyes flashed. "Wait—I know you. You are the red-haired Papist from Ireland. And I see you hold the witch's grandchild."

  "My grandma's not a witch," Charity roared, struggling in Fiona's arms.

  "My name is Fiona Prescott, if it's any business of yours." Anger brought Fiona courage.

  "Everything in this town is our business." Ann's eyes shot sparks. "Why are you and your mother giving strange potions to Rebecca Nurse? What mysterious powers does your mother have?"

  The unnatural group slithered closer, staring, looking ugly, silently mouthing words.

  Fiona swallowed hard, longing desperately to run. However, something warned her that it would be a most disastrous move. There was no telling what this pack would do. They looked as dangerous as prowling wolves.

  She called on every ounce of courage she possessed and looked the ringleader boldly in the eye. "My mother knows the art of simpling, that is all. Rebecca Nurse is a sick, old woman whom she tried to help… and that is all."

  "All? What do you know of all? For that matter, what do we know of you—a stranger in our town? Grace said that you and your mother appeared one night, springing out of the woods without the slightest warning. No one had ever seen you before. And the next morning, their cow went dry."

  Mercy Lewis narrowed her eyes, moving closer. "No one knows for certain who they really are. We have only their word. And what use is the word of a stranger?"

  Sudden rage swept Fiona, overshadowing her terror. She slid Charity to the ground, and clasping the child's hand tightly, she stepped forward boldly as the band moved closer.

  "Let us by! You have no right to threaten us." Her voice rose strongly. "You are nothing but a bunch of schoolgirls. You know nothing. You can do nothing."

  Stunned, the creatures stopped in their tracks, gaping at the unexpected attack. Seizing the moment, Fiona swept past them. She hurried down the road but did not run, dragging Charity along as fast as her little legs could trot.

  A man on horseback galloped toward them, and with a sob of thankfulness, Fiona recognized Giles's black, windblown hair and anxious face. "Oh, thank goodness," she cried. "I am so glad to see you—"

  "Get up here with me," he ordered tersely. Fiona handed Charity to him, then he reached down and swung Fiona in front of him on the horse. "I see you encountered the afflicted girls." He grunted. "What did they say to you?"

  "They said Grandmama was a witch," Charity shouted. "And I told them she wasn't."

  "Of course she isn't," Fiona spoke soothingly. She turned her head to glance at Giles. "I don't know what to make of those girls. They are so strange… a group of people came looking for them and immediately the girls threw the most awful fits. It could have been faked yet it was very frightening. When they saw me, they nearly accused Mother and I."

  "This is very serious," Giles answered in a low voice, sounding worried.

  "But they are only children," Fiona protested. "Why do the judges place so much belief in what they say?"

  "The only explanation for their fits and convulsions seems to be witchcraft. As for the convictions in court, the jury and judges go by a thing called 'spectral evidence.' "

  "What on earth is that?"

  "It is when a person's spirit or specter appears to you, sometimes in another form, such as an animal, or invisibly, as when the girls claim that so-and-so is pinching and biting them, but of course, no one else can see it. They are believed because they take oath on the Bible."

  Fiona questioned shakily, "Then just their word about an invisible act can send a person to jail… or death?"

  "Witchcraft is an invisible crime. Who can be an actual witness to it?" Giles replied gravely.

  "And those awful girls are convinced that—that—" About to name Rebecca Nurse, Fiona became aware of the small ears listening intently, and so she bit off her words.

  They stopped before Charity's house and Fiona offered to step inside, but Giles deterred her. Slipping from the horse, he took Charity in his arms. "I think you had better come another time, Fiona. This little one will need some soothing—and so, perhaps, will her grandmother."

  It seemed that Giles knew something he would not confess in front of Charity, and this was confirmed when he returned and swung into the saddle.

  "Things don't look well for Mrs. Nurse," he said, as they started down the road. "The elders visited her yesterday, and she was greatly upset when I came to check her health. I gave her a soothing draught and told her daughter to repeat it several times a day. I felt so helpless. How could I tell them not to worry? Things are looking very serious. I fear Rebecca has made enemies who covet her large land holdings. A convicted witch loses all her worldly goods. There have lately been hints that she no longer goes to church because she's signed the Devil's Book."

  "Why, she has been sick. Everyone knows that," Fiona cried indignantly.

  "Truth and knowledge have nothing
to do with this hysteria," Giles said bitterly.

  "I wish there were something I could do to help. Tomorrow I'll go visit her."

  "I'm sorry, Fiona, but I must advise against that."

  With a pang of fear, Fiona realized what he meant. The finger of suspicion hovered above her and her innocent mother. "How terrible," Fiona whispered, her throat choked with unshed tears.

  Giles put his arms around her and kissed Fiona's cheek, saying, "Do not worry, dear. I will do my best to care for your safety, and—"

  "So that's where you've been all this time," a harsh voice grated. "Riding with Giles!" Grace stood by the empty soap pot, arms akimbo, glaring with a red and angry face.

  Giles dropped his arms and Fiona slid down from the horse. "Oh, Grace, the elders have been questioning Rebecca about her witchcraft."

  Grace snorted. "Why is that so awful? They must have plenty of proof. People have been suspicious of her for a long time. I'll tell you one thing, we won't be having Charity in this house again."

  "Good heavens, are you suggesting that Charity might be a witch?" Giles scoffed.

  "Why, she's just an innocent baby," Fiona sputtered.

  "Little nits make gnats."

  "I cannot believe you would say such a thing." Fiona cried.

  Her eyes darting venom, Grace snarled, "I'll tell you this, Mistress Fiona. I have slaved over this stinking pot all day long, while you have run about the countryside with my," she gulped, "with my friend."

  "Grace—" Giles began.

  "Oh, it's not your fault, Giles. Like as not, you've been bewitched. And you can take that any way you want, Fiona." With this parting shot, Grace turned and charged into the house, banging the door behind her.

  Fiona groaned and leaned her head against the horse's flank. Suddenly, it all seemed more than she could bear.

  Giles reached down and touched her head. "Don't worry, Fiona. It will all blow over with Grace, and tomorrow you and I will sup with Oliver and Sally. I will pick you up here—"

  Fiona raised her head. "Giles, I really do not think we should go together. It would just add fuel to Grace's anger. I can go alone and meet you there. I know where Sally lives."

  "Fiona—" Giles started to protest.

  "Please—it will be easier my way."

  "Very well, but I shall certainly see you home." He gave her a smile that failed to mask the worry in his eyes. "Please take care."

  Fiona waved and turned reluctant feet toward the house. Didn't she always "take care"? What had she done to warrant these attacks from Grace and the afflicted girls? Nothing that she could understand. Every accusation they made was due to ignorance and superstition, but it would be utterly useless to argue with them or try to convince them they were wrong. Furthermore, she knew that the girls reveled in their power, and Grace saw Fiona as a hated rival for Giles's interest.

  Fiona halted on the path, her heart suddenly beating faster. Grace represented a grave danger; she knew that now. Her cousin's capacity for hatred knew no bounds, possessed no logic. Witness her animosity toward Rebecca Nurse and Charity, who had never done her any harm. How much stronger was Grace's resentment and fury toward a girl Giles had kissed! She might vent her spleen in a terrible manner—and she had already told The Girls about Fiona and her mother.

  For the first time, Fiona seriously considered the possibility of moving to another town to live and look for work. Perhaps she and her mother could return to Boston and seek direction from Samantha. Anyplace would be better than Salem, with its horrendous witch hunt and the unpleasantness of her relationship with Grace.

  However… if they left, it would mean not seeing Giles again. Today he had been so concerned and he had called her "dear." And then there were the other times when he had kissed her…

  Oh, no, she couldn't leave just yet. Not unless things got much worse. She hushed the little voice that whispered: "By that time, it might be too late."

  Chapter 9

  While Fiona washed and dressed for the evening at Sally's, her mother sat on the bed and listened to her account of the afflicted girls. Fiona hadn't told her when it had happened because it had been so frightening and she didn't want to upset her. But today she decided they had better both be on their guard.

  Although Fiona softened the girls' actions as much as possible, her mother's face looked grave and worried when Fiona finished. "You haven't discussed this with Mercy or Grace?"

  Fiona put down her hairbrush and shook her head. "No need to encourage their suspicions about us. If necessary, I'll just say that I saw the girls performing in the road for some travelers."

  "Whisht! That's what it seemed like? A performance?"

  "Yes. But it was so frightening."

  Her mother shuddered. "All just to lend reality to their lies. And they are lies, I do believe. I know full well there are such things as witches, devils, and demons, but not in this witch hunt."

  "Well, Aunt Mercy said if Satan had come to Salem, it explained all the hard times here lately: sickness, so many infant deaths, crop failures, floods, fires…"

  " 'Tis true. When trouble strikes, people like to blame something or someone outside themselves. Mayhap 'tis then a little easier to bear." Ellen Prescott sighed. "But reactions here are so extreme. I'm thinking these Puritans are a quite harsh group, suspicious of everyone who doesn't agree with them. Fiona, dear, we may find it hard to fit in here, and that's the sober truth of it. We might be doing better in another town such as Boston."

  "Yes, you may be right," Fiona answered in a troubled voice. She stepped carefully into her fresh gown, a dark green linen, and drew up the lace-edged camisole to peek above the neckline. She kept her head bent while tying the front lacings, her long curls falling forward to hide her face. "In a way, I should hate to leave here. I am starting to make friends. There's Mrs. Nurse, Sally… and… and Giles…"

  Her mother gave a little smile. " 'Tis a fine young man he is. I know you think a lot of him and I warrant that he feels the same. Has he shown any serious intentions to you?"

  Fiona picked up a bonnet for her hair, feeling warmth steal into her face. "He hasn't said anything about… serious intentions, but I think he enjoys my company."

  "And why would he not? 'Tis a sweet, bright young lady you are. Also, he could not help but admire your bravery on the voyage where so many others were complaining constantly."

  "Well, I learned to admire Giles there, too, when he worked so tirelessly to aid the stricken passengers. And here on shore he is just the same—strong, brave, and kind." And more exciting to me every day, Fiona told herself.

  Her mother nodded. "A sensible, clever young doctor he was on board, and everyone spoke well of him. Alas, now in Salem there is more danger, and I'm certain sure he is worried about you. But remember, he has many other grave responsibilities."

  "Is it wrong to—to like him so much?"

  "Away with you! You're speaking of more than 'like,' I'm thinking. Child, you must be realistic. You have no dowry, and a doctor just starting up his practice surely would need help from the girl he marries."

  Fiona swallowed painfully. "Do you think Grace has a dowry? Aunt Mercy always claims to be in such desperate straits."

  "That she is, I'm sure, however, Mercy told me that Matthew put aside a trunk for Grace to be saved for her marriage. In it there are linens, tableware, even money. What a dear, generous man Matthew must have been, so like his brother, David, my own dear man."

  "I don't think Giles wants Grace for a wife." Fiona tossed away the uncomfortable idea. "He's taking me to the berrying, not Grace."

  Her mother twinkled. " 'Tis no surprise, you being so much prettier than Grace."

  Fiona bit her lip. "Do you think he admires just my looks?"

  "Of course not, dear. That's only part of it."

  A big part of it, Fiona thought. She knew that appearance counted greatly with men, and it worked both ways. She remembered the sensations Giles has aroused in her when they had kissed, th
e touch of his warm, well-shaped lips, the lean, strong body pressed against her own. A tremulous sigh escaped her. She knew that she should stop such intimacies in the future… yet how could she, when every part of her being yearned for his exciting touch?

  Her mother's concerned voice broke into her dreaming. "Fiona, always my strong, sensible lass, can you not continue to be so?"

  "Y-yes, I shall try. This awful witch hunt will keep Giles and me from becoming too involved. He is worried because the girls said that Grace spoke to them and made them look on us with suspicion."

  Her mother's voice sank to a whisper. "That's not good. 'Tis extra careful we must be. We will avoid the town except for Sabbath, attend church regularly, say little, and work hard for Mercy. Mayhap she and Grace will become dependent on us for the chores, since all they want to do is attend witch trials. Here is a word in your ear—do not be seen by Grace with Giles's arms around you."

  Fiona choked. "You—you saw?"

  She nodded. "Yesterday, from the window. Giles kissed you just as Grace came out the door."

  Fiona looked down at the floor and whispered, "You're right. I must watch my every action around Grace. That's why I am going alone to Sally's."

  "Whisht! Then stay on the main road as much as you can," her mother cautioned. "I do not like the idea of that prowling hungry wolf you told me about."

  "Giles will bring me home on his horse. Besides, If he appears, I have a slice of mutton for him which I saved from our midday meal." Fiona drew on her coat and picked up a basket.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, Grace was quick to give one of her nasty laughs. "And where might you be off to this dark night? Aren't you afraid you might meet a big, bad wolf?"

  "I have heard tell one has been seen in the woods." Aunt Mercy gave a fearful glance out the window.

  "Maybe he's Satan in disguise." Grace snickered. "And Fiona is his—"

  "Grace, what did I tell you about such remarks?" Aunt Mercy snapped.