Even so, there would be no retaliation against any enemy today, not from the Nurse men, or from any of those who’d chosen to marry into the now tainted family. Not today. Today old Fancies Nurse, looking as if a tree had caved in on him and having seen his wife condemned and to be publicly hung alongside the likes of Sarah Goode, had gone mute and sad beyond words. He led his sons, sons-in-law, and remaining daughters-in-law homeward, passing Corey’s Mill—now taken by the authorities like Bishop’s Inn, and next they passed Proctor’s well-located establishment.
“If they don’t get Proctor’s place next,” muttered Ben through gritted teeth.
“It’ll be your place, Pa,” finished Joseph.
“Aye, going for the Nurse lands,” agreed Serena.
“Was their first and largest goal from the beginning,” finished Jeremy.
The procession looked like a funeral parade.
Chapter Two
Nurse Home, late evening, July 11, 1692
With Mother Nurse’s execution date set, this determined Jeremiah Wakely on a path to break the law, as every legal means, strategy, and scheme had been exhausted. He and Serena, with the help of her brothers, planned a prison break and an exit strategy. They must move under cover of darkness when they made their way toward the village jailhouse, knowing they could not wait any longer as the moon meant to increase in size and brightness over the next two weeks, and that no night beyond this one would be as good cover.
They also had it on good authority that Mother Nurse had been returned to the village lockup to await hanging on the nineteenth.
At Francis’ home, where he’d been convinced to wait this out, the Nurse men, Jeremy, and an insistent Serena, using topographical maps that Jeremy had finagled from the courthouse, planned Mother Nurse’s rescue.
Jeremy had pleaded that Serena have nothing to do with the dangerous jail break, that she ought to be nowhere near them when it happened. She would not be reasonable, and would not hear of remaining behind. “Mother will need me,” she insisted.
And she said it dressed as a man, and after the laughter of the others, there was nothing more to be said.
Together now, Ben, Joseph, Tarbell, Serena, and Jeremy made their way by wagon toward the village. As Joseph was an expert horseman and could keep an animal quiet during a thunderstorm, he was left with the wagon at a stand of trees, hidden from prying eyes, while the others made their way afoot to the sound of Joseph’s saying, “I should be with you.”
They had studied every gulley, ditch, and outcropping the geography around the jailhouse offered, and with the jailhouse having been smartly placed northeast at some distance from the rest of the village—so as to not be offensive to the eye, the marauders believed they had a good chance of success.
However, the maps were old, and they didn’t indicate just how ruddy and rough the ground back of the jail had become. Pitted would be a kind word for the place. Some of the men lost their footing, slipping, ankles in jeopardy. Rock outcroppings had sprung up with each new spring here—a peculiarity of all New England. Everyone was soon moving a great deal more cautiously, their efforts slowed down. They meant to get in and out before any sign of dawn.
Tarbell and Ben led the way as both knew the area better than the others.
They’d all agreed that no amount of money could persuade the jailer to look the other way, not with so many eyes on the accused and anxious for the upcoming hangings. In fact, Weed Gatter feared showing any kindness whatsoever to the guilty ever again after Williard’s arrest; he feared he’d set the accusers after him, which made perfect sense. If they could bring down a sheriff, a jailkeeper would be child’s play.
Gatter had said when Jeremy had last spoken to him, “I want naught to do with them afflicted children. My god, man, they’re sendin’ Mr. Williard ’imself to the gallows.”
Ben’s information had led them to one conclusion, that Gatter and any deputies with him at the jail must be dispensed with first. However, no one wanted any killings to go on. To this end, they’d brought gags and plenty of rope.
Just ahead of them, Jeremy and Serena heard the thuds and thumps of a scuffle that was over almost as soon as it’d begun. Tarbell tied Gatter fast and dragged his form to the nearby bushes, tossing him unceremoniously into hiding. From the sound of it, Gatter thought himself being attached by a band of witches.
Ben suddenly jumped a second man who’d been hired on to help Gatter. This fellow, Fiske, had been asleep when he heard the first scuffle. Ben, recognizing him as the builder of the hangman’s scaffold began beating Fiske mercilessly. Fist after pummeling fist, releasing his months’ long frustrations to bloody the man so fast and completely as to blind him with his own blood.
Jeremy pulled Ben from the man, fearing he’d kill him. “Tie him up!” Serena found the keys that Gatter had dropped when attacked, and she knew the exact large skeleton key that opened the stout oak door with its barred window.
Serena got the door open as swiftly as she had sworn to the men that she could, but she rushed inside too quickly as the stench of the arrested and the interior of this place made her reel and near faint. Jeremy grabbed her, holding on. “Are ya all right?”
“I-I’m fine, now let’s find Mother.”
They’d argued against using any lanterns for fear lights would bring attention to their jailbreak.
“What’s going on here?” came a male voice from the black interior.
“Is that you, Sheriff Williard?” asked Serena.
“It’s me, yes.”
Ben poked his head in and shouted, “We’re here to free you all. The door stands open. Run! Find the forests! Run for your lives.”
“It’s the Devil’s court himself that’s locked ye up here,” added Tarbell through a window. “Run!”
Part of the plan was to put the authorities to work chasing down escapees who’d gone in every direction, which would give them time to secret Mother Nurse to Connecticut along with Jeremy and Serena.
“Is that you, Serena? Ben?” It was Mother Nurse, struggling to her feet.
Serena and Rebecca embraced.
“There’s no time! We must hurry!” Jeremy pushed them toward the door. Others were shakily making their way out the single door and into the guiding hands of the Nurse men who urged them on. Some fled but slowly, near incapable of walking. Others stepped out but leaned against the exterior walls from so long without proper nourishment or hope. Some just wanted to breathe real air. Williard, one of the more robust of the prisoners, raised his one good hand and shook with Ben and Tarbell in turn, thanking them and apologizing for having played any part in Rebecca’s arrest.
“She speaks highly of you, Mr. Williard,” Serena told him. “Now Mother, come with me and Jeremy.”
Some thirty or more had rushed away for the tree line, but Rebecca balked at the door. Urged on, she stepped through to freedom and fresh air. She took in a deep breath. Still more prisoners came out behind her, some of these men and women making their way in a zigzag fashion toward escape. “Away from the village,” Jeremy had to tell one daft woman. “Go that way. Find the fields of Salem Farms, Swampscott, Back Bay.”
Mother Nurse sat on Gatter’s three-legged stool, which passed for the jailer’s office. “I’ve the King’s throne now, eh?” she jested.
“If we must carry you, Mother,” began Ben, wrapping his arms about her, “you’re coming with us.”
“We’re spiriting you out of Essex County,” added Tarbell.
“It is over with me, Ben, Serena, John, you others. Over and I’ve made my peace with Our Lord to die for this His cause.”
“God has not cause here, Mother!” Serena tugged at her.
“Don’t be foolish!” Ben pulled and pushed.
“Ah but God has all to do with this, and He’s chosen to put it on me. I’ll not run nor humble myself, nor forsake His bidding. If it weren’t true, what has all these months’ suffering been for—for all the incarcerated, excommunicated, and
guilty by false accusation? We, the stone hearts?”
“You can’t martyr yourself to this cause, Mother Nurse,” Jeremy’s anguished plea made her smile up at him.
“You’re a good man, Jeremiah Wakely; truly you are! And a fine son. Francis has told me how wonderful you are to my Serena. Ben, John, you all must think not of me but of your own safety and futures. If there’s to be an end to this madness, you men must lead the way. You can’t do that from behind bars.”
“But you can?” shouted Serena, out of patience.
“Enough, Mother!” Ben lost his temper. “Enough of your pious words. The time for words is over. Now get up and come along!” Ben’s tears freely came.
Tarbell approached Rebecca. “I’ll take you over my shoulder if need be.”
Rebecca raised a hand to halt Tarbell. “Hold. You’ll do no such thing, John. I won’t be dragged from my promise to God like a sack of potatoes over your shoulder—by any of you! Hear me? Do You?” She grabbed the keys from Serena, rushed back inside her prison and threw the door closed behind her, locking them all out.
Ben shouted for her to stop, and he tried a grab but too late. Rebecca had successfully locked both herself and the keys within.
“What’re you doing, Mother?” Serena was at the barred door, nose to nose with Rebecca. “Give me those keys.”
“It’s over, and you’ve done your kindness for others. Now go!” Rebecca lifted the keys to their eyes, but she held them away from anyone’s grasp. “I’m staying put.”
“But they’ll hang you certain!” Ben rattled the bars. “In eight days, Mother!”
“A fate delivered to my doorstep by God, Ben, Serena—please accept His will.”
“God would not have you die so, Mother.” Serena’s tears threatened to blind her. “Suppose you’re wrong, Mother?” asked Ben. “Suppose you’re wrong?”
“I tell you it is true.”
“What? What is true?” Serena banged the unforgiving bars.
“In my useless old age—my last days—He has put me to a final test of faith as sure as Abraham and Job. But it is not for you, Serena, nor my sons, nor Jeremiah to suffer this. Go now! You endanger yourselves terribly!”
“And Father? What of Father?” Serena leaned in against the locked, impenetrable door.
Jeremiah put his arms about Serena, her heaving sobs absorbed into his palms. “Rebecca refuses to come away with us.”
“No, Mother, I don’t care what God’s whispered in your ear! You must give yourself up to us, now!”
“To let us decide for me?”
Serena turned to Jeremy, beating his chest with her fists! “Jeremy, she’s out of her mind! Do something!”
Jeremy had watched the woman he loved go back and forth over this issue of whether her mother had a right to her belief and faith and stand, or that Ben was right—that Rebecca was like a child and unable to make sound decisions any longer. The strain had taken an enormous toll on everyone who loved Rebecca but Serena and Ben in particular. The two of them were her babies over whom Rebecca had always doted and had never before said no to.
“She’s clear of mind, Serena,” Jeremy firmly said now, “and it’s a path she clearly wants to take, and she holds the key.”
Serena went to Tarbell. “Why didn’t you grab her up over your shoulder, John? Rather than just talk about it? If you had, she’d be with us now! And we’d be home and boarding for Connecticut.”
“I-I-I’m sorry, Serena.” Tarbell looked like a bear that’d been shot.
“No, John! Sorry’s not enough!” Serena stood a head shorter than the big man. She then turned on Jeremy again. “And you? Why couldn’t you’ve grabbed her before she closed that door?”
“Stop it, daughter! Go from here, all of you. Please, Serena.”
Ben pushed Serena so hard she fell. Jeremy stood toe-to-toe with Ben and Tarbell, who’d together lifted a log cut into a bench. They rammed the thick, metal-belted door once, twice, three times without a dent.
“Hold on, you men.” Jeremy had helped Serena back to her feet. “Mother Nurse’s wishes must be respected, Ben. It’s the last thing your Father told us! That if she refuses to come of her own volition—”
“I won’t let her commit suicide.” Ben stood, eyes ablaze, hands wrapped about the bench.
“Let me go, Ben, John!” Mother Nurse began pounding the other side of the solid door.
“It’s no good, Ben,” said Jeremy. “Your mother’s mind is set on one course alone, and the damnable noise you’re making, and if Fiske comes around, we’re all marked men!”
“You shut up, Wakely! You don’t know a damn thing! Been wrong every sep of the way.”
“Listen to him, Ben!” Rebecca reached through the bars on the door as if trying to touch her youngest son. “This is my fight, Ben! Now you all must leave me to it! You as well, Serena, Jeremy, John! Get yourselves free of this place, all of you!”
They heard men on horses coming toward the jail. It appeared from this distance, to Jeremy, that more prisoners were being escorted, arriving from Boston some seventeen miles away.
“Tell everyone in the family that I am on solid ground, of sound mind, and answering God’s will,” Rebecca continued. “Now, go!”
Ben kissed his mother’s outstretched hand, holding on. She’d dropped the keys in the darkness behind her, and using her other hand, she hit Ben for his trouble. “Go! Now! Remember I love you all.”
“You’re asking us to leave you to certain death.” Ben stood frozen, unable to leave her.
“True Ben, but a death meted out for me by God. It is His will, and His will be done.”
“Damn the God that asks this of you!” Ben shook his mother’s outstretched limbs.
She slapped Ben even harder across the face. “Do not mock my God, Ben.”
Ben cowered. “I’m sorry, Mother, it’s just so hard to-to walk away and leave you here in this hole.”
“Just do it. Be a man for me, son. All of you, go before you’re found out! My worst nightmare is that they’ll have cause to arrest my children. Go now, all of you!”
The men on horseback, a jail cart pulling behind them, were coming in sight of the jail. “We mustn’t be recognized,” Jeremy cautioned the others, pulling Serena off.
Tarbell and the others followed. Ben finally rushed to catch up.
“This way!” Jeremy pointed. “Safest retreat! Follow my lead.” He’d taken Serena by the hand, guiding her off into the night.
Serena looked back at her mother, a sense of guilt and confusion threatening to overwhelm her. “Don’t look back, Serena.” Jeremy tugged her onward thinking of the biblical story of Lot and his wife.
They were followed by Ben and Tarbell, and soon searching again for Joseph who’d been elected to stay with the horse and wagon to keep close watch there and to keep the animal calm. They had emptied out the jail, but they’d failed in their objective—to free Mother Nurse.
No one made another sound save their footfalls as they made their way back to the hidden wagon and Joseph.
By now the men who’d arrived with the new prisoners were reviving Weed Gatter, and his deputy, Fiske, and Gatter could be heard moaning and cursing and assessing the damage and losses at the jail. The words ‘bloody hell’ wafted up to their ears, and Jeremy thought he heard Fiske cursing something about being set upon by a covenant of powerful witches.
When they relocated Joseph, and he saw that they’d returned without his mother, he went a little crazy until Tarbell and Ben sat on him and calmed him to a chorus of his shouting, “I knew I should’ve gone!”
Jeremy shushed them as men were beating the bushes now in search of the escapees, and they were getting near.
The Nurse clan and Jeremy climbed onto the wagon and quietly, sadly the group made its way back toward Francis’s home. “How’re we going to tell the old man?” Ben wanted to know.
Serena didn’t miss a beat. “We tell him the truth.”
“What, t
hat you botched the whole of it?” asked Joseph.
“Look here, Joseph!” shouted Serena. “You weren’t there, so ya dunno what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you’re off the hook,” added Ben. “Ya know nothing of it!”
“Joseph,” began Jeremy, his heart filled with sympathy for them all. “Somehow your mother sees this ordeal as giving meaning to her death.” This made the others look at Jeremy. He shrugged and gave them a look that loudly said—well it’s true. “Mother Nurse knows she’s dying—has since the beginning of this sordid affair.”
“What’re you saying. Wakely?” asked Tarbell as the wagon rolled on, striking a rock but not slowing.
“I’m saying, she thought she might die last winter. She believes—”
“That God saved her for this trial before sending the Reaper.” Serena squeezed Jeremy’s arm where they sat in the rear of the wagon. “I suppose in some way that . . . she has no choice.”
The wagon moved on. Not long after, they heard horses coming in their wake, night riders eating their dust as if after them here on the road. Men with torches and guns suddenly raised up all around them in the darkness, and their leader, Sheriff Herrick, shouted, “You aboard! Pull to and stop!”
Joseph, driving the team, had no choice. Ben’s fingers were on the hidden weapons. Serena held tight to Jeremy’s arm, and Tarbell stood up in the wagon and shouted, “That you, Sheriff? What’s the trouble?”
“Tarbell?”
“Aye, ’tis me and some of my family.”
“And have you come from the jailhouse in the village now?”
Some of the others on horseback grumbled and made remarks, wondering why Herrick wasn’t simply throwing them in irons. But Herrick quelled them with a single blast of his rifle skyward, startling men and beasts. Joseph had to quell the jittery team, getting down from his seat to do so.
Herrick asked of the people in the wagon, “Why’re you out past the court’s curfew, all of you?”
“Curfew?” asked Tarbell.
“Aye, curefew, man!”
Children of Salem Page 44
