“Oh, no.” She sank down onto the floor and hugged her knees. “What am I going to do now?” she asked the darkness.
STARING INTO Samuel’s gray eyes, Abigail did not see a flicker of recognition. The room was jam-packed with spectators as she was led into it, her hands retied—this time tighter than before—with a tether that the guard held.
The noise rose to a deafening roar, but Abigail was numb. Looking at Samuel, she felt as if her heart had already been cut out.
“Abigail West, how do you plead to charges of witchcraft?” Silas Grayson asked the question, his grim face set in lines of smug satisfaction.
For a moment Abigail was tempted to plead guilty and get it over with. She’d seen enough of the previous trials to know that trying to defend herself would only prolong the agony she faced. At least hanging was a quick death. She didn’t want to be tortured or examined. But if she could delay the inevitable, maybe Sanshu and Elizabeth and Georgianna would think of some way to save her. And Brianna and the others. Besides, she’d never plead guilty to something she didn’t do. Never. She lifted her chin and looked directly into Grayson’s eyes, then shifted her gaze to fall on the audience. Wherever she looked, silence fell.
“I am innocent.”
“Then I suppose we shall have to put you to the test,” Hawthorne said, rubbing his hands together. “I must confess, myself, that no trial in the past has given me such pleasure.”
“It has been reported that you have been seen in the company of a black cat.” Samuel paced closer to her as he began to talk. “Is this true?”
“Indeed. I have a black cat. His name is Familiar.”
The entire audience drew in its breath.
“He’s a remarkable creature.” Abigail watched the faces of the court with great intensity. Before she died she had to know if these men really believed they were fighting evil, or if they were simply greedy.
“You admit to consorting with a familiar?” Samuel lifted his eyebrows as if he doubted her answer.
“I freely admit that I have a black cat named Familiar.”
“And is this cat empowered with any special gifts?”
She saw a flicker of something in Samuel’s eyes. What was he driving at?
“Yes. He has special powers.”
“And what might these powers be?”
“He, uh, can visit sickness and disease down upon anyone who touches him.” Samuel shot a wicked gleam of approval at her that could have passed as a scowl. Abigail continued with more gusto. “Diseases so terrible no one has ever seen the like. Familiar can make a person’s skin turn green and putrid and begin to fall from the bone. Why, I’ve seen him look at a fully grown man and reduce him to a pile of smoldering flesh in hardly more than five minutes.”
The audience sat back in their chairs, and even Appleton turned white.
“And does Familiar work at your command?”
Abigail began to enjoy the game. “Indeed, he does. He does everything I tell him.”
“So, he is under your direction?”
“Indeed.” She nodded emphatically.
“Is this your necklace with which you cast spells?” Samuel withdrew the crystal pendant to the awed exclamations of the audience.
“It is,” Abigail said.
Samuel walked toward her and put it around her neck. His fingers gently brushed her hair. “Be strong,” he urged her in a whisper. “Fight.” Then he stepped back. “And was the necklace a gift?”
“Indeed. From the Dark One himself.”
Several members of the audience cried out in horror and held up their hands to block her from their view.
Samuel waited until the room had gotten completely quiet. “And are you a witch?”
“You could say that I have a real witchy twist to my personality.” Abigail grinned as she surveyed the room. “I’ve always been a little hellcat. Now, who would like for me to practice my talents on them?”
Several women in the front row bolted and began to run from the building.
“Be seated!” Appleton thundered at the crowd. “I want witnesses to this woman’s confession. Don’t you dare attempt to abscond from this trial or you shall be named witch!”
Those who hadn’t made it out the front door collapsed into their seats, pulling as far back as they could from Abigail.
“How about you, Applecheeks? Want a little taste of my magic?” Abigail started toward his bench. It took Earl Wadsworth a full thirty seconds before he thought to yank the tether tied to Abigail’s hands, pulling her a safe distance away from the magistrate. But the magistrate’s fear was not lost on Abigail.
“Hang her!” Hawthorne shouted. “Before she injures us all. Hang her now!”
Appleton made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Take her to the witch tree. We’ll be done with her vile threats and the harm she has done the people of Salem.”
“And take Brianna March and Tituba with her,” Silas Grayson proclaimed. “They are as guilty as she. They are the three primary witches. Perhaps we can cleanse the others charged.”
“Take them all,” Appleton said just before he stood and ran from the room.
Chapter Eighteen
In the time that Abigail and Samuel had been in the woods, a small platform for the hangings had been erected under a giant elm not far from the village square. Abigail had no choice but to follow Earl Wadsworth as he dragged her through the street. The crowd from the trial formed a ragtag mob around them as they walked.
Abigail’s exhilaration at tweaking the noses of Appleton and Hawthorne vanished in a wave of fear as she realized that she was being taken to be hanged. The trial was over. She had been sentenced to die.
Looking around, she expected to see Georgianna March in the square with her kettle of mulled cider. But there was no sign of the schoolteacher, nor of Elizabeth Adams.
Abigail stumbled, and Wadsworth jerked her forward with a curse. He was afraid of her; she could smell it on him. But he was also going to hang her as quickly as he possibly could. What she’d managed to do in the courtroom simply ensured her death. And Samuel was nowhere to be seen.
Wadsworth virtually dragged her up the steps of the platform and, without any words, caught one of three nooses already hanging from the graceful limbs of the tree. He thrust it around Abigail’s neck with a gesture that was both rough and fearful.
The hemp was abrasive, and Abigail twisted to avoid contact, but it was impossible. Wadsworth pulled the noose tight, quickly stepping back from her as if contact with her had burned his skin.
Looking over the crowd, Abigail searched for a compassionate face and concentrated on keeping her knees from buckling. She was terrified. She hadn’t expected to die. Hadn’t planned on it at all. As far as she could see, there was nothing Samuel could do to save her. How had things gone so terribly awry?
A large crowd had gathered around the platform, and they waited eagerly for the execution. But Appleton had ordered that Brianna and Tituba be brought from the dungeon, and the two women, so unused to sunlight and the space to move around freely, were stumbling along at a slow pace.
At the delay in action, the crowd began to chant. “Hang ’er! Hang ’er! Hang ’er!”
Abigail clung to one last hope. Perhaps if she died, she would awaken in 1995, the whole encounter having been a dream. Somehow, though, she knew that her feelings for Samuel were too real to be swept away as dream emotions. The thought of him put some strength into her legs and allowed her to lift her chin as Brianna and Tituba were jerked up beside her on the platform. The remaining nooses were tightened around their necks.
“Have courage,” Brianna said softly, standing in the middle. “Don’t give them the pleasure of your fear.”
“Right.” Abigail forced the word out, while Tituba mutely nodded.
On the edge of the crowd Abigail caught sight of Georgianna March. But instead of peddling the cider as she was supposed to be doing, Georgianna was standing with Silas Grayson. So that explain
ed how the plan had fallen apart. Grayson had Georgianna’s upper arm in a grasp Abigail could see was clearly painful.
Her observations were interrupted when Wadsworth pushed her forward to the edge of the wooden stand. The platform had not been built as a real gallows. There was no trap door that would drop out from beneath the accused. Looking at the arrangement, Abigail guessed that someone would come up behind her and literally knock her off the platform. It wasn’t a pleasant fate to ponder, but she took several deep breaths, waiting for the feel of someone’s hand against her back.
Instead she saw Samuel proceeding toward the platform. It took her a moment to realize what he was holding in his hand. A mask! It was the ram’s head that she had seen at the midnight bonfire dance. And he was now running toward Silas Grayson as fast as he could!
Sensing something unusual happening on the fringes of the gathering, the crowd slowly turned from Abigail toward Silas, who still held Georgianna’s arm. The tall man stood transfixed with terror as Samuel ran at him, brandishing the mask.
“God save me!” Silas cried, then turned and fled.
But Samuel did not pursue him. Instead he halted in front of Georgianna and held the mask out to her. “Your property, Georgianna.” His voice was harsh. “The mask you stole from Sanshu’s tribe.”
Georgianna’s smile was tight and victorious as she stepped back from him. “So, Samuel Truesdale, you have fallen under Satan’s sway. Fornicating with a witch is a sure way to lose one’s soul. Appleton was a fool to believe you’d abandon your precious Abigail.”
“Manipulating the fears of a village so that innocent people die is a surer way to burn in hell.” Samuel’s eyes glittered with pure rage.
From her position on the platform, Abigail could do nothing. She was afraid Samuel was going to strangle the woman with his bare hands. She saw the fury and hatred and contempt that he directed at the tall, slender, schoolteacher. What had happened to make him hate her so?
Georgianna didn’t flinch an inch. She turned to the platform. “Hang them!” she cried. “Our village must be rid of them. Hang them now!”
Abigail felt the pressure of Earl Wadsworth’s hand at her back. All of the childhood prayers she’d been taught jumbled together in her mind, and she clung only to the thought that she was not afraid of death.
“Look!” Earl removed his hand from her back and pointed down the lane that led to the square.
Abigail opened her eyes to see a richly dressed man and woman at the head of a procession that included Hester Prynne and Pearl. Hester was pushing the portly man to walk at a faster pace. It was Governor Phips and his wife! It could be no one else, and as he caught sight of the platform and the three women standing with their hands tied together and nooses around their necks, he bolted forward.
“Halt! Halt this execution immediately. In the name of King George, our sovereign leader, I demand that this be halted.”
The crowd spun from Abigail to Samuel, who now held Georgianna March in a viselike grip, and then to the rapid approach of the dignitary.
Georgianna wrenched free of Samuel’s grasp and darted into the crowd. She was thin, but she was also spry, and she pushed through the crowd and climbed up on the platform, moving straight to her sister. With a great thrust, she pushed Brianna off the platform. Brianna March’s skinny body hit the end of the rope and she was left dangling, her feet kicking the base of the platform as she slowly strangled to death.
“Samuel!” Abigail’s cry halted all other noise.
The crowd parted as Samuel ran the remaining few feet. Catching Brianna’s struggling body against him, he held her as he climbed back up onto the platform, each inch he gained releasing the pressure on her throat. At the top of the platform, he helped Brianna to stand as he loosened the rope around her neck.
“Hang him, too!” Georgianna pointed a finger at Samuel. “This man has attempted to incite the Indians to attack our village. He is an evil man, a man corrupted by the wiles of a witch.”
Samuel didn’t even bother to answer. He stepped to Georgianna and gave her a non-too-gentle push into Hawthorne’s arms. “Restrain her,” he ordered the befuddled Hawthorne.
Appleton sputtered and stepped forward. “These women have been condemned to die. Executioner, do your duty.” He jabbed Wadsworth in the ribs.
“Halt.” The governor had made great progress through the crowd and was ascending the platform. “Halt. These women have been accused of witchcraft. Have they been tried and duly found to be guilty?”
Standing up taller than Samuel had ever seen him, Appleton stepped forward, dropping a sweeping bow. “Indeed, Your Honor, they have been tried. All have confessed. We have the signed documents in the magistrate’s hall, and the deeds they have confessed to are heinous and evil.” He motioned to Wadsworth. “Go get the confessions.”
“I’ve signed no confession.” Abigail spoke up. “We are innocent, Your Honor.”
“Shut up, witch!” Appleton grabbed the noose at her neck. “You’ll swing before the hour is out.”
“I’ll view the confessions,” the governor said.
The crowd around the platform grew in size as word of the governor’s appearance spread through the small village. In the ten minutes it took Earl Wadsworth to return with the confessions nearly everyone in the village had gathered. With a trembling hand Wadsworth delivered the papers to the governor.
“Oh, my dear,” Mrs. Phips said as she stepped to her husband’s side, “you know you can’t read without your magnifier.” She took the pages and began to read them out loud.
The confessions were a documentation of evil deeds that silenced the crowd as they were read. Abigail felt the fear and hatred of the audience grow. And she saw the way the governor’s face began to reflect doubts. He had come to stop the witch trials, but as he heard the fake confessions and watched the reaction of the crowd, he was beginning to be swayed!
Abigail stood forward. “Enough! Those are lies. I have confessed to no such activities. Neither has Brianna nor Tituba. This has all been fabricated by Appleton and his cohorts.”
“Silence.” The governor spoke, his brow beetled in thought. He pulled on the high-stock collar of his shirt. “This is a grave matter that requires much thought. These confessions are signed by the three of you. And they have been made with a sense of pride in the evilness done. I am not so certain that today’s executions should be stopped. After all, there are many witnesses to these deeds of witchcraft. Why would an innocent woman be accused of such things?”
Abigail wasn’t certain where Familiar came from. She’d hardly given him a thought since her capture. But he streaked through the crowd, darting here and there amid cries and kicks. With what seemed to be wings, he jumped up on the platform and hurled his fifteen-pound body straight into the arms of the governor’s wife. Looking up at Mrs. Phips, he licked her on the chin.
Among the spectators, one whispered word passed. “Witch!”
The startled woman held the cat like a child and looked to her horrified husband for guidance. She made one attempt to push the cat aside, but he clung to her heavy dress with claws like hooks.
“Witch!” Samuel pointed his finger at Mrs. Phips as he picked up the whispers of the crowd. “She’s a witch and that cat is her wicked familiar!”
“Witch!” Three men in the crowd pointed at Mrs. Phips in horror. Their accusation was punctuated by a tremendous roll of thunder in a sky that was growing darker by the minute. Far in the distance a three-pronged fork of lightning split the sky.
In a matter of seconds the entire audience had surged forward, their fingers pointing at the governor’s wife, their eyes wild.
“Hang her before she influences the governor.” Samuel only made the suggestion to see it picked up by the crowd.
As the governor’s wife began to struggle to get the cat away from her, Familiar dug in and held on. The entire time he proceeded to lick her face.
Abigail watched the scene first with horro
r, then a growing amusement. When she turned to the governor and saw his face, she felt sudden relief. Never in a million years would he allow his wife to stand trial for witchcraft.
“My wife is no witch,” Phips cried, putting his arm around the poor woman’s shoulders as she tugged Familiar’s claws free one by one. But each time she managed to unhook a paw, Familiar grabbed her dress with another one.
“And Abigail is no witch.” Samuel held out his arms and Familiar released his hold and allowed Samuel to take him. “This cat is no familiar. He’s merely a very smart cat.”
“That’s it!” Abigail felt the centuries of history open to her. “It was an accusation of the governor’s wife that stopped the witch trials.” But in the confusion, no one seemed to hear her.
“This is a trick of Satan.” Appleton tried to regain the focus of the crowd. “These women must hang.”
The governor, his wife tucked protectively against him, shook his head. “No, there will be no more hangings. I see how easy it is to trick even an educated man into a foolish belief. Were it not for the fact that my wife is married to me, she could as easily hang as these other good women.” He nodded to Wadsworth. “There will be no executions in Salem Village today. There has been enough suffering. Enough death. I hereby declare that there shall be no more executions for witchcraft.” He eyed Familiar as if he were having second thoughts.
“These women have confessed. They had caused sickness and disease among the people and livestock of my village. I demand that they be executed. I demand—”
“I believe I must go back and examine all of the transcripts on these trials.” The governor spoke very slowly and very clearly. “If everything is not in order, Appleton, it will be you standing on this makeshift gallows. Now, do you really want to pursue this witchcraft matter?”
Bewitching Familiar Page 22
