by Lily Luchesi
Either this was a quaint little reenactment village from way back in history or I had traveled to the past.
Each house was a curiosity that made me feel as if I was actually living history.
I hurried to catch up with the others. Keeping to the back of the crowd, I listened to what everyone was whispering as they couldn’t believe what was going on themselves.
“Did you hear that someone accused three women of being witches? They’re rounding them up now.”
“Won’t there be a trial?” I asked only to get looks from the men in front of me as if I’d grown a third head.
One of the women nearby gently took my arm. “Anna do you have a headache?”
Both of the men eyeing me turned away as if I was no longer of interest to them.
Moving me carefully back toward the edges of the crowd, the woman nervously pushed me into the nearest house.
“What were you thinking asking a question like that of the men? They could have thrown you to the crowd as a witch just for being impertinent like that.”
“Um,” I tried to stall. “I didn’t know.”
"What do you mean you didn't know? Did you just arrive out of thin air?" She nervously peered out the window as if those men were going to come to drag us out.
It might not have been a great idea, but I didn’t have any other options available.
“It sort of was like thin air. I’m not sure who this body belongs to.”
Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Why Anna what a weird thing to say? I think the sun got to you today.” She pointed toward the back room where a servant was doing something. “Let’s get you home and cooled off. Then maybe you’ll feel better.”
“Hetty, I’m going to take Miss Marshall home.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be finished with the wash by the time you come back.” Hetty nodded and kept working. “I’d go out this way miss.”
“It is getting crowded out front.”
I didn’t know who my savior was, but I had a feeling she’d been dodging the crowd for a while now.
“Keep your head down. Don’t talk to any men unless they speak to you first. Married women can have a voice, but those who are your age and without a husband are considered to be trying to lure men with their wiles. Accusations are flung onto us with the slightest wrong words.”
“Hmm,” I muttered not agreeing with her. “I’m not sure who I am or even where I’m at.”
“You’re in Salem in the New World. It’s the year of Our Lord 1692.”
“Holy crap!” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“What is this crap you speak of? It will purify you?”
The snort of laughter that came out of my nose wasn’t able to be helped.
“Not purifying. Uh, crap is um,” I was at a loss as to how to explain bodily functions to someone from the 1600s. "What you do in the outhouse."
“Oh, my.” Her hand covered her mouth as if I’d said the most horrendous thing possible. “You shouldn’t say that again.”
“I won’t Mrs. ?”
“Mrs. Wilson. Bethany Wilson.” She leaned in close, “A true witch of the Sisterhood of Thirteen.”
“Bethany, I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what that means.”
“You’re a witch aren’t you?” She asked tentatively.
I placed a hand on her arm, “Yes, I am. There must be a reason I’m here. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble or make things worse for any of you.”
We stopped in front of the door to the small house I’d woken up inside.
“This is your home. The supplies you might need would be under the floorboards. I’ll knock twice wait a minute and then knock again. Be ready to leave.” Her cloak swished through the dirt as she swept away.
The door creaked and I put the bar down that would keep the average person from trying to come inside. It might actually be more of a deterrent than the locks we had in modern times.
There were still a few hours until it becomes dark and I was going to need to find a way to cook some food.
With no refrigerator, I was going to have a hard time trying to fend for myself in this time where all women knew how to cook, clean, and sew.
Fresh bread was covered by a towel clothe and what appeared to be summer sausage hung from one of the rafters. It would have to do for tonight. Tomorrow, I was going to have to learn how to cook over a fire if I was going to survive.
* * *
Somehow I’d jumped through time back almost three hundred years. I was going to have to learn the old adage to be seen and not heard because my mouth was going to get me in the most trouble.
My afternoon was spent looking over the house that I’d been put into to find out more about my surroundings.
From the whispers and secretive behavior, I was fairly certain that my new friend Bethany was a witch. Which meant that I might be one as well since she seemed to know me.
The layout of the room was small. Everything was all in one room with a small space up above for a bed of sorts.
Handmade quilts were spread out over the bed brightened the darkness. My hand ran over the intricate work. So many things we took for granted in the modern world were just a normal part of life here.
Survival and hard work were what had built all the things we treasured in the future. Everything here in this little cabin was made to give Anna Marshall all the comforts that could be provided in this time.
“She or rather I have a gentleman friend.” I glanced down at my hand to see if there was a ring on my finger, but it was empty. Maybe they didn’t exchange rings at this time of history.
A knock on the door had me rushing to look out the curtain to see who was there.
Hetty, Bethany’s servant was standing at the door with two baskets draped over both arms.
Curiosity overtook my need to be cautious and I opened the door.
“Hey, what can I do for you?”
“I’m not sure what all you said, but the mistress was thinking you might want to help me with feeding the prisoners.” She shook her head at me. “You’ll be wanting to put that cloak on before you go out among the town folk.”
“Oh,” I nodded and scurried to do as she asked. “Thank you.”
“Hmpf, you can carry one of these baskets. Do something useful for a change.” She shoved the basket at me and took off so fast that I had to hurry to catch up with her.
Grunting with the weight of the basket, I finally caught up to her not wanting to make a spectacle of myself.
“Now, the mistress said for you to keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told if you don’t want them to start trying to accuse you of being one of them.”
I nodded because I didn't trust myself not to screw things up.
The barn where they were keeping the accused women was dank and smelled of manure.
Dozens of women were huddled in the stalls with only a guard at the front and the back of the barn.
“Why on earth aren’t they escaping?” I whispered to Hetty.
Her eyes widened. “Shush, don’t be saying things like that.”
My nod was the only thing I could manage at this point.
“Start on that side and I’ll start on this one. Everyone gets a piece of bread, a slice of meat, and a carrot.”
When I hesitated, she pushed me to the left. "Go on now."
Several of the ladies eyed me with suspicion but took the offered food. Those that were dirtier must have been here for days. The cleanest ones had been brought in earlier today.
One lady reached up and our hands touched as she took the offered bread from my hand. A spark jumped between us and she jerked back as if she’d been stung.
“What’s your name honey?” I kept my voice low so that the others couldn’t hear us.
“Sarah.” She didn’t even glance up at me clutching the bread to her chest.
“I’ll try to be back tomorrow. I think I’ve your friend
Bethany Wilson.”
Her head bobbed yes.
“Good. She’s going to fill me in on what’s happening. Stay safe.” I had to keep moving or someone might notice the attention I was paying her.
My basket was empty quickly after that and joined Hetty at the door of the barn to be let out.
We moved past the guard toward the sun.
I didn't have a lot of magic, but I couldn't believe that if any of these women were really full-blown witches that they wouldn't have tried to leave.
A few easy spells and they would be able to leave town. No one would know until sometime the next day and they would be miles away.
Hetty waited until we were out of earshot.
“Mistress Wilson doesn’t know this, but some of us are witches too. We just don’t always tell the white folk everything. You’re not from here. You’re just in Anna Marshall’s body.” She smiled at me. “Don’t be so shocked. Most people don’t mind what they say in front of the help. We don’t have any rights or say in things so it’s best if we kept our heads down and our ears open.”
“I just never realized that someone could tell I wasn’t Anna. Things are so different here in this time.”
“You haven’t used your magic properly.” She nodded her head as if it were obvious.
“This is the first time I’ve done this. I’m not even sure what it is that happened. I didn’t do any magic or spells that would make me jump time or bodies like this.”
None of it made any sense.
“Sometimes magic works on its own because it knows what’s best for us. Other times it’s because of who we are. You’re connected to a long line of witches. There’s something here you are supposed to do to keep your family alive. Haven’t ever met a time traveler, but I’ve heard stories of some that come through time before.”
“Any advice during this very dangerous time?”
“Don’t do any magic. These men and women are simply jumpy and won’t even think twice about throwing you to the wolves.”
I laid a hand on her arm. “Thank you. I’ll try not to make any mistakes. I’d like to help deliver food tomorrow if that’s okay with you?”
“I’m guessing you’re going to need a bit more help than you give. Hope that you are a fast learner.”
“Yes, ma’am. I am.”
"One other piece of advice quit being nice to me. Folks around here aren't nice to the help."
I swallowed hard. “There are so many things that are different. I’ll try not to open my mouth unless I absolutely need to.”
"Good. I'll be over at first light to help you get some breakfast started and show you how to do the chores. After that, you'll be on your own because I've got my own mess of chores to do."
“This is going to take some getting used to, but I’m certainly going to try.”
“You’ll do fine.” She assured me before parting ways.
Now, there was nothing left to do except wait for dark.
* * *
Chapter 3
Darkness had fallen as I waited for the knock on my door. Either I’d missed it or no one had knocked because when daylight came through the window, I was still sitting in the rocking chair from the night before.
It was still chilly at night and I’d managed to pull the blanket from the back of the chair over me.
My bladder was the second thing I noticed and I had no idea where the outhouse was or if I wanted to try to use it in the early morning dusk.
A knock sounded loudly startling me so that I fell out of the chair.
Picking myself up off the floor, I tried to dust off my skirt from the klutzy landing.
“Who’s there?” I called.
“It’s Hetty. Came to help with those chores.”
Sighing with relief, I moved the board from across the door, opening it with enthusiasm.
“Lordy sakes, are you still in the same clothes from yesterday? Looks like you slept in them. Well, let’s get you changed before you go running around the town.”
“Hmm, where do I go to relieve myself?” I was trying not to dance in front of her.
"Seems like that might be the first thing to worry about, for sure. Follow me." She sat a basket on the table and walked out the door. She led me with ease to the little dirt path stamped down from use.
“Over there.” Her finger pointed to a little wooden building.
“Uh, what do you use to wipe with?” I knew it was a silly question, but it wasn’t as if I had been a historian in my current life.
"Oh, child. You are way out of your depth." She moved toward the outhouse, opened the door before pointing to the stack of corn leaves next to the wooden seat.
“This I can make work.” I simply nodded my gratitude.
She left me to do take care of things by myself. It was a good thing, I didn’t think about the creatures that might have been in there with me until I was on my way back to the small house.
The pump outside let me run water over my hands which were the freshest I was going to get while back in the seventeenth century.
Hetty had been waiting for me to come back inside before stoking the fire.
Most of the morning was spent showing me the steps to keep things running smoothly.
I was exhausted by the first five things she showed me. After starting bread, hauling wood and water, I was shown some of the wonders from the past.
She put the porridge on to cook and opened up a door set into the floor in the back corner of the room.
It was a root cellar with all sorts of jars filled with the last of winter’s food stock.
“No telling how long you’ll be here so I’m not going to tell you everything today. You will need to milk the cow, collect the eggs from the chickens and feed the pigs.” She announced as if it wasn’t a big deal at all.
“Um, you mind telling me how one woman has this much livestock here in town?”
“Well, each house has its own garden and plot. You are gifted things from some of the gentlemen that visit you.”
“By gifted you mean, I sleep with them?” I must have looked horrified because she let out a deep chuckle as if I’d said something amusing.
"That's about the way of it. You do know how to please a man, don't you?" She eyed me as if I might not know that where I came from.
“Yes, I’m quite familiar with it.”
"Good. Then when your gentlemen show up, make sure that you don't do anything that would make them suspicious. There are three men, who are your regulars. Samuel Townsend, Joseph Brown, and Reverend Timothy will be the ones to look out for. You can't smile at them when you leave the house and you can't even act like they are anything besides men of the town."
“So that explains why I’m this old and single. I thought it was a little crazy that I didn’t have a family.”
“Well someone has to keep the men in this town happy so their families can live in peace.” She gave me a wink. “Think you got this covered for now?”
“Yeah, I’ll play it by ear and see where things take me.”
“Good.” She gathered up her things, “We’re taking the prisoners hot food tonight. I’ll need your help to get them all fed.”
I nodded feeling slightly overwhelmed with everything I’d learned.
The door shut behind her and I sagged against the table exhausted.
Most of what I needed to know was basic stuff. If only I'd have paid more attention to when Gran had baking days. I might not feel so inadequate.
Knowing that Anna had a cellar, I wondered if she might have had a witch's closet hidden somewhere in the small house. It wasn't something that most witches would have put in plain sight. I needed to ground myself in this time with something close to normal.
Putting the bar over the door, I closed my eyes and used my senses to reach out over the room.
"Reveal," I whispered letting the magic release from my fingertips to search out any secrets around me.
The purple and blue strings of magic
swirled around the room for a short time before settling on the corner by the window.
“Oh, blessed be.” I scurried over to move the small table away. I sensed resistance and felt around. There was a table there, but on top of it and around the whole corner was a hidden set of supplies.
When I touched it, the illusion melted away. Being in Anna’s body, it must have reacted to her spells because I was looking at a witch’s stash.
All of the herbs and ingredients for some pretty potent spells were in neatly placed jars. There wasn't any labeling, but I could identify most of each of the contents of the jars.
Moving things around I noticed a small book stuck behind everything.
It might be small, but it was filled with tiny writing that was difficult to decipher.
Her handwriting made the f’s and s’s look similar. Basic spells in the front that I was familiar with, but as I flipped to the back they got progressively worse.
These weren’t just spells, they were retribution spells. Things that only a dark witch would try to do to others.
“No wonder they were hunting for the witches if this is the kind of shit that they’re coming up with.”
The spells in this booklet would cast suspicion on others due to the nature of the spells.
Without a second thought, I walked over to the fire and threw the book inside. Maybe Anna knew the spells by heart, but I couldn’t let her use these on people. It might change history. Well hell, anything I do or don’t do could change the way things are supposed to.
How on earth had I been thrown into an evil person’s body? I thought that evil and good couldn’t mix like that.
Feeling better that I’d done something good for mankind, I took a few ingredients for a protection spell.
For a seventeenth-century call girl, Anna didn't have any jewelry laying around. The Puritans were serious about there being nothing to make them sin.
A brooch sat on a small table with her brush and a small mirror. This could work for what I needed during this time. When I left this time, the brooch wouldn't be anything more than a piece of jewelry.
“With this piece, I tie this protection spell to keep me safe from all that would do me harm for as long as I inhabit this form.” I dipped the brooch into the potion I’d made and spoke a few more words in Latin to finish it.
