Sarah Good replied that the children threw rocks at her, hooted when she went by, and made fun of her rags.
After a while, the two magistrates and Judge Blaize put their heads together. It wasn't long until Blaize rose. "It is our considered judgment that Sarah Good should be held in jail to await trial as a witch."
An approving mutter ran through the crowd, but for some reason, Fiona felt a pang of pity for the ragged crone who had defied the whole courtroom. Now, although her head was still held high as they led her away, Sarah Good's lips trembled with fear and her eyes stared blindly straight ahead.
"Bring in the next case," intoned Judge Blaize.
At once, the constable appeared leading Rebecca Nurse. She leaned heavily on his arm and Fiona gasped when she saw how ill the old woman looked, her face pale and drawn. When she reached the front, Rebecca grasped weakly at the back of the minister's chair and her eyes darted desperately around the room.
The crowd greeted her arrival in a different manner. Many appeared shocked and indignant and Fiona heard voices exclaim:
"This cannot be right!"
"She is a good, God-fearing woman."
"I don't believe she is a witch."
Even the magistrates treated her in a gentle, apologetic manner, but Blaize looked on coldly, until Hathorne called out, "We have two witnesses against this woman: Ann Putnam, and Abigail Williams."
Both girls stepped forward with meek faces, downcast eyes, and clasped hands.
"Abigail Williams, have you been hurt by this woman?" Mr. Hathorne asked.
"Yes, I have," the girl answered clearly.
Immediately, before the same question could be put to her, Ann Putnam fell flat upon the floor, her limbs jerking. "Rebecca Nurse is hurting me cruelly! Oh, help, help!"
Abigail then began to shriek hysterically, her eyes rolling far back in her head until nearby observers screamed.
When he could be heard above the din, Hathorne turned anxiously to the elderly woman and pointed to the children. "Goody Nurse, what do you say to this?"
Rebecca lifted her eyes to heaven. Her voice trembled, but she spoke earnestly. "I can only say before my Eternal Father, I am innocent, and God will clear my innocence."
"There is not one in this assembly but desires it," the magistrate answered gently, "but if you be guilty, then we pray God to discover you."
A shrill voice suddenly rose above the muttering and a woman stood up near the front. "Rebecca Nurse, did you not bring the Man in Black with you to my house? Did you not bid me curse God and die? How oft have you eaten and drunk your own damnation?"
Above the amazed babel which ensued, Mr. Hathorne's voice came strongly. "Step forward, Goody Putnam, if you have aught to testify in this hearing."
Heads craned questioningly as Ann Putnam's mother, a thin, shifty-eyed woman, came to stand before the magistrates.
"Two days ago," Mrs. Putnam began in a righteous tone, "Rebecca Nurse's shape appeared before me, demanding that I sign the Devil's Book. I said 'no,' so then she pinched and tormented me." She thrust up the sleeve on her scrawny arm. "See there the black and blue bruises that the witch made upon me?"
John Hathorne's face grew stern. "What do you say to this, Rebecca Nurse?"
The elderly woman flung out her hands and sobbed. "Oh, Lord, help me!"
Mrs. Putnam drew herself up. "And there is something else. Late one night, a group of dead children appeared at my bedside wearing the winding sheets in which they had been buried. They said to me, 'Witch Nurse has murdered us'."
An indrawn breath of horror swept the room. Voices exclaimed, "That is bad."
"I would never have believed it!"
Rebecca Nurse looked close to fainting and Fiona had to press her lips tightly to keep from crying out that it was surely all a pack of lies. Why did they put so much credence in a dream?
The girls seized this opportunity to shriek and writhe while the audience joined their cries, now pointing at Rebecca and speaking angrily. Horror was on every face and Fiona, sickened, knew that the tide had turned.
"Goody Nurse, they accuse you of hurting them," Mr. Hathorne shouted above the tumult, his bony finger stabbing at the air. "And if you think it is not unwillingly but by design, you must look upon these accusers as your murderers, Is this your belief?"
"Oh, I cannot tell what to think," Rebecca moaned, swaying unsteadily. "Perhaps the Devil may appear in my shape. I only know it was not I!"
"Look, there is the Man in Black whispering in her ear. Do you not see him?" one of the girls cried.
"Strange birds are flying around her!"
"Ow, ow, they are pecking me!"
Hysterical accusations poured forth from the girls. Rebecca wept. The crowd clamored. Then, at last, the verdict came: "We believe there is sufficient evidence of witchcraft, Rebecca Nurse." Judge Blaize stood up and pointed at her. His whole face seemed to flame. "You will be held in jail to await your trial."
Fiona rose blindly from her seat and pushed past the roaring, stamping crowd now shouting almost unanimously, "Witch! Witch! Witch!"
Dismayed and revolted by the easily swayed, hysterical mob, who didn't seem to have a reasonable thought of their own, Fiona stumbled homeward. Tears coursed down her face. Rebecca Nurse was no witch! She was a kind, well-bred, God-fearing woman.
Oh, what would happen to her now? She was almost certain to be convicted, and then… suddenly Fiona recalled the visions she had had. Once, on the road with Giles, she had seen a black-robed procession mounting up a hill with dragging feet while a bell tolled in the distance. She had felt that one of the doomed group would be well known to her. And the same vision had been repeated with an increasing sense of horror when she'd visited Rebecca Nurse… What did it mean?
And now it came again. A red haze seemed to fill the courtroom and in every row sat animals, snarling, foaming at the mouth. Fiona and her mother stood before the bar of justice and all the magistrates, constables, and judges began to shout: "Witches—witches!"
"No, no!" Ellen Prescott screamed. "We have done naught! My child and I are innocent!" The roars grew louder, but then Fiona stumbled and found herself alone, clutching at a tree with the vision fading from her mind.
Not looking where she was going, Fiona almost collided with Giles and Grace, who were coming down the road.
Grace was the first to speak. "Well, well, for once you got up early, Cousin Slug-a-bed," she sneered. "What was the reason? Curiosity about the witch trials at last?"
Fiona wiped her cheeks and pushed back her hood, her voice quivering. "Yes, I was curious, but oh, it was so terrible. Rebecca Nurse was questioned. The children cried out against her and then Mrs. Putnam stood up and said Rebecca came to her in a dream demanding that she sign the Devil's Book."
Giles made a choked sound and Fiona's eyes flew to his face, which looked twisted with some suppressed emotion. Fiona flung out her hands. "Now Rebecca is going to be held for trial and I could tell that everyone thinks the poor old soul is guilty of witchcraft. But I don't believe it's true."
"Well, I do," Grace snapped. "Only a fool would think she is innocent after all she's done: not attending church, laughing at the afflicted girls, torturing them—"
"How can you know she tortures them?" Fiona cried. "The only proof is the word of those children."
Fiona's anguished eyes sought Giles, certain of his agreement. "You don't believe she's guilty, do you?"
"No, I don't." He made a movement toward her and seemed about to speak again, but Grace stopped him with a hand on his arm and a sharp glance in his direction. "Watch your words, Giles Harmon." His face grew rigid and he halted.
"We have something else to discuss with you right now besides the plight of Rebecca Nurse—who I am sure will get what she deserves," Grace said with a sanctimonious air. "This concerns the berrying party tomorrow. You are to go with Charles Harmon." Her black eyes bored into Fiona's and a smug smile thinned her lips. "Giles is taking me, of course.
We had planned this long ago, but when I reminded him, he said you were expecting him to go with you, since you had no other friends here yet."
Bewildered, Fiona blinked. "What?" Her eyes turned to Giles, who looked away. "I—I don't understand what you mean."
"Some changes had to be made in our plans," Giles said tightly, avoiding Fiona's eyes. "I had forgotten my— my—" he cleared his throat, "commitment to Grace. Would you mind going with my brother? I know he would be overjoyed. He raves about you all the time."
Grace shrugged, her lips curved down. "Yes, he's young and silly, not a mature man like Giles." She stroked the arm she clutched with both her hands. "But Charles will do for Fiona, since she's young and silly, too."
Giles stared off into the distance, his face taut and hard. "I hope you don't mind too much, Fiona."
"She really hasn't any choice." Grace's teeth came together with a snap. "Unless she would prefer to stay at home and sulk."
Anger swept Fiona so that she could firm her trembling lips and answer steadily, "I'll be delighted to go with Charles. He is so amusing, just what I need right now, not an old sobersides." A cheat, a fraud, a liar as well, she told herself. She threw Giles a scornful glance and flung herself toward the house.
Chattering loudly about the picnic, Grace pulled Giles along the road. A man on horseback called a greeting, but Fiona didn't look around.
Indoors, she sagged against the door and drew a ragged breath. What had happened to change Giles's mind? Why was he really taking Grace? He had said he didn't care for her and had seemed so anxious to take me, Fiona thought. What about his ardent lovemaking? The intimate, hot kisses, the urgent hands moving so excitingly upon her body, the flattery he had poured into her ears… had it all been just the usual seduction of a man who hadn't known a woman for all those weeks at sea and then had found a new intriguing female in Fiona? Had he always intended to marry Grace, but now discovered her jealousy needed placating?
Fiona groaned. Thank goodness she hadn't let him go farther than he did. It might have ruined her for life. Her feelings for Giles had been very strong. The world was wiped out in those moments when he held her such a willing captive. How eagerly she'd responded to the drugging power of his kisses, the caressing hands that sent such thrilling messages throughout her being. It seemed at such times there would be nothing she'd deny him. How far would they have gone? She didn't know. Something had always brought them back to sanity. Fiona shut her eyes, squeezing back the tears. How could she go to the berrying and watch Giles with Grace, who would be sure to flaunt her power over him? But if she didn't go, how Grace would gloat and taunt her. She would know then that Fiona had been deeply attracted to Giles and very hurt by his default. It would be a most gleeful victory for Grace.
Suddenly, Fiona felt her pride assert itself. No, she must not let either Giles or Grace know how much she was upset.
Removing her cloak, she went to the sink, splashed water on her face from a pail, then raised a dipper to her lips, drinking deeply. She helped herself to a dish of plums, hardly aware of what she did as her eyes stared blindly through the casement window. The next few days would not be easy. Above all, she must hide her emotions from the world.
Giles and Grace had disappeared, but now she heard her mother and Aunt Mercy coming down the stairs. Quick as thought, she wiped her mouth and ran out the door. She couldn't face another soul just now, and running mindlessly, she took the wooded pathway to the sea.
Chapter 11
The woods, so cool and silent, had a blessedly calming effect, and Fiona drew a lungful of the fresh sea air when she reached the cove.
The bluff was not a high one and a beach ran along below it, curving out of sight into the distant harbor filled with bobbing masts. Houses could be seen on the promontory, fine-looking two-and-three-storied ones made of red brick, with flowering spring trees swaying in the gardens.
No people were about, and seeing a flight of wooden steps leading to the beach, Fiona lifted up her skirts and proceeded carefully downward. The sun shone now and the sea sparkled with dancing light, a clear and lovely blue dotted with many little islands.
A feeling of peace enveloped her and she didn't question how or why. She only knew she must enjoy it while she could. All her problems seemed strangely muted, far away. She dropped down on the sand, eyeing the soothing, gentle waves going in and out, and in the next minute she had shed her hose and shoes and was wading in the wonderfully refreshing water.
After a while, she came back and relaxed full length on the beach, feeling sleep would be most welcome. She had not had much rest the night before, and today's emotions had exacted a terrible toll. Her fingers sought the buttons of her dress and opened up a couple so the fresh sea air could blow upon her throat. She removed her cap and brushed back the long red curls, then let her hands fall at her sides as deep slumber overtook her.
She awoke with a terrible jolt of fear, her heart hammering. Judge Blaize was seated by her side, staring at her.
For a second, she could hardly breathe and swallowed hard. "You startled me."
He spread his arms wide at once. "Please forgive me if I disturbed you." He reached behind him on the sand and brought forth an earthen jug. "Join me with a drink of my own elixir. It will restore and relax you, that I promise."
At her hesitation, he smiled. "It is harmless, I assure you." He sipped a bit from the jug. Fiona struggled to sit up and rise, but at once his long arm caught around her shoulders and guided the jug against her lips. Fiona gasped and tried to turn aside, but the liquid spilled into her mouth and she was forced to swallow.
At once she realized it was delicious, sweet, tangy, icy cold. And she was thirsty. She took a gulp. Fiona stared up at the judge, feeling as though she must be dreaming. How different he looked! Suddenly his face had been erased of any cynicism, his mouth gently smiling. His dark eyes matched the midnight hair waving to his shoulders. She saw he wore a full-sleeved white shirt trimmed with lace and gray corded breeches with silver knee buckles.
His legs were bare, like hers. Somehow, he appeared much younger.
"Yes, Fiona, even a judge likes to act the boy sometimes and go wading in the ocean. Would you care to join me?"
Fiona blinked, pushing back her tangled curls. Why did he seem so different? "No—I don't want to wade. I have to go—"
"No, you don't." His voice had an odd humming tone. "Sit, my dear, and I shall sit beside you. You have no idea how arduous are my duties as a judge. It is always a relief to get a substitute." Instead of sitting, he reclined, leaning on his elbow.
"I saw you at the trials today. I was in the balcony, not presiding," he told her softly.
"Surely you won't find Rebecca Nurse guilty, will you?"
He looked down, a lock of hair drifting on his brow. One long hand reached out to clasp her ankle. "Why, no, Rebecca probably will go free. Especially if you wish it." He turned a burning gaze on her and began to stroke her leg, moving upward from the ankle, inch by tantalizing inch.
A paralyzing fear enveloped her and she knew she faced a strong opponent, but she also knew she must not let him see her fear. Leaning back upon her hands, she forced herself to say, "Please—you must not do that." And tried to gather up her strength.
"Yes, I should," he murmured, pushing aside her skirt. "You have need of my attention. Just as I have need of yours."
She stiffened as his arm slid around her shoulders, but it tightened as though made of iron and his face came closer. "Do you think I enjoy testing all those horrible old hags? The villagers want their blood, and so I give it to them. But when I find such fresh beauty as I see in you, I long to devour it and restore my soul."
His last words were spoken against her mouth, although she jerked back, swamped by a sudden wave of terror. She tried to move, to scream, to fight him off, but found that she was completely helpless in his grip.
Growling like a ravening animal, he pounced upon her trembling lips and sucked them into th
e howling cavern of his mouth. He bared her body, top and bottom, squeezing, pinching, hurting everywhere he touched.
When he pulled his mouth away to draw in a grinding breath, Fiona screamed, a shriek torn from her very soul. "Stop, stop."
Oddly enough, he stopped, saying hoarsely, "I go too fast. Forgive me, but you are enough to make a man go mad with craving." The scarlet color drained from his face, the shudders wracking him abated. Calmness settled over his features, though his eyes still held Fiona's gaze and she couldn't look away.
She couldn't understand what was happening, except she hovered on the brink of panic, and once she weakened, nothing on this earth could save her from being ravished and ruined by this monster. She bent her head and a name broke from her lips, "Giles! Giles—"
"What is it?" Blaize hissed at once, his face darkening. "Are you recalling someone else? Remembering other kisses? I swear they didn't burn your lips or excite you as I do. No one possesses my powers as a lover. Is that not true?"
The beast was back. His heaving torso pinned her upon the sand while his hands clawed at her breast, her thighs, her legs. "Giles Harmon never did what I can dare," he roared. "Did he? Did he?"
Giles! At the thought of him, a fresh, cold wind swept across Fiona and she exerted all her strength, shutting her eyes so she wouldn't see the frightening face above hers. It was better when she didn't meet his gaze.
His hand clawed at her hair and jerked back her head. "Deny him, do you hear me? Say you hate Giles Harmon and want only me. Say it—or things will be much worse for the both of you."
"Yes, yes!" she cried out. "Anything only let me be!"
His clutch loosened and she was up in a flash, tossing back her hair, running barefoot across the sand with all the speed at her command. She must escape the evil force behind her. Something she didn't understand had been at work to lull her reason, play on her emotions at a time when she was vulnerable and hurt. How had the judge known so much about her and Giles? Did he have spies or some strange powers?
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