Speaks the Nightbird

'I'm sorry, sir, but that's impossible.'

'Make her turn 'round, then! Make her put her back to us!' At this Matthew looked to the magistrate for help, but all Woodward could do was give a dismissive shrug.

Adams said, 'We ain't stayin' here if she don't turn 'round! I didn't want to bring Violet to this place anyways!'

'Martin, please!' Winston held up a hand to quiet him. 'It's very important that Violet tell the magistrate what she knows.'

Violet suddenly jumped and her eyes looked about to burst from her skull. Rachel had risen to her feet. She pulled the bench away from the wall and then sat down upon it again, this time with her back toward them.

'There,' Matthew said, much relieved. 'Is that agreeable?'

Adams chewed his lower lip. 'For now,' he decided. 'But if she looks at us again, I'll take my child out of here.'

'Very well, then.' Matthew smoothed out the fresh sheet of paper before him. 'Mr. Winston, you may remove yourself.' Winston's departure made the father and daughter even more nervous; now both of them looked liable to bolt at any instant. 'Violet, would you care to sit down?' Matthew motioned toward the stool, but the little girl quickly and emphatically shook her head. 'We shall have to swear you to truth on the Bible.'

'What's the need for that?' Adams spoke up, in what was becoming an irritant to Matthew's ears. 'Violet don't lie. She ain't never lied.'

'It is a formality of the court, sir. You may use your own Good Book, if you please.'

With sullen hesitation, the man agreed and Matthew administered the oath to his daughter, who made hardly a sound in her acceptance to tell only the truth in the sight of God. 'All right,'

Matthew said after that hurdle had been cleared, 'what is it that you have to offer in this case?'

'This thing she's 'bout to tell you happent near three week ago,' came back that aural irritation. 'It were of an afternoon. Violet was kept late to school, so when she was comin' home she was by herself.'

'School? You mean she's a student?' Matthew had never heard of such a thing.

'She was. I never wanted her to go, myself. Readin' is a fool's way to waste time.'

Now the knave had well and truly endeared himself to Matthew. He examined the child's face. Violet was not a particularly handsome little girl, but neither was she homely; she was simply ordinary, not being remarkable in any way except perhaps the wide spacing of her eyes and a slight tic of her upper lip that was becoming a bit more pronounced as it became time for her to speak. Still, the child carried herself with grace and seemed of a sturdy nature; Matthew knew it had taken quite a lot of courage to enter this gaol.

'My name is Matthew,' he began. 'May I call you Violet?'

She looked to her father for aid. 'That'll do,' Adams agreed.

'Violet, it's important that you answer my questions instead of your father. All right?'

'She will,' Adams said.

Matthew dipped his quill in the inkwell, not because it needed ink but because he required a moment to compose himself. Then he tried it again, first offering Violet a smile. 'Your bonnet is pretty. Did your mother sew it?'

'What's that got to do with the witch?' Adams asked. 'She's here to tell her tale, not talk 'bout a bonnet!'

Matthew wished for a jolt of rum. He glanced at the magistrate, who had cupped his hand to his mouth to hide what was a half-smile, half-grimace. 'Very well,' Matthew said. 'Violet, tell your tale.'

The little girl's gaze slid over toward Rachel, registering that the accused still remained sitting with her face to the wall. Then Violet lowered her head, her father's hand on her shoulder, and said in a small, frightened voice, 'I seen the Devil and his imp. Sittin' there. The Devil told me the witch was to be set loose. Said if the witch was kept in the gaol everybody in Fount Royal would pay for it.' Again her eyes darted to mark if Rachel had moved or responded, but the prisoner had not.

Matthew said quietly, 'May I ask where this sighting occurred?'

Of course Adams spoke up. 'It were in the Hamilton house. Where the Hamiltons used to live 'fore they took up and went. On Industry Street, 'bout three houses shy of our'n.'

'All right. I presume the Hamiltons had left before this sighting took place?'

'They was gone right after the witch murdered Dan'l. Abby Hamilton knowed it was that woman's doin'. She told my Constance that a dark woman's got dark in her.'

'Hm,' Matthew said, for want of any better response. 'Violet, how come you to be in that house?'

She didn't answer. Her father nudged her. 'Go on and tell it, child. It's the right thing to do.'

Violet began in what was almost an inaudible voice, her face angled toward the floor. 'I . . . was walkin' home. From the schoolhouse. I was goin' by where the Hamiltons used to live . . . and ... I heared somebody.' She paused once more and Matthew thought he would have to urge her on, but then she said, 'Somebody was callin' me. Said . . . 'Violet, come here.' Low and quiet, it was. 'Violet, come here.' I looked . . . and the door was open.'

'The door to the Hamilton house,' Matthew said.

'Yes sir. I knowed it was empty. But I heared it again. 'Violet, come here.' It sounded like . . . my papa was callin' me. That's why I went in.'

'Had you ever been inside that house before?'

'No sir.'

Matthew redipped his quill. 'Please go on.'

'I went in,' Violet said. 'There wasn't nary a noise. It was silent, like ... it was just me breathin', and that was the only sound. I near turned to run out. . . and then ... I heared 'Violet, look at me.' At first . . . 'cause it was so dark, I couldn't see nothin*. Then a candle was lit, and I seen 'em sittin' there in that room.' Both Matthew and Woodward could see that her face, though turned downward, was agonized with the recollection. She trembled, and her father patted her shoulder for comfort. 'I seen 'em,' she repeated. 'The Devil was sittin' in a chair . . . and the imp was on his knee. The imp . . . was holdin' the candle . . . and he was grinnin' at me.' She made a soft, wounded gasp down in her throat and then was quiet.

'I know this is difficult,' Matthew told her, as gently as he could, 'but it has to be spoken. Please continue.'

She said, 'Yes sir,' but offered nothing more for a space of time. Obviously the recounting of this incident was a terrible ordeal. Finally she took a long breath and let it go. 'The Devil said, 'Tell them to free my Rachel.' He said, 'Let her out of the gaol, or Fount Royal is cursed.' After that ... he asked me if I could remember what he'd said. I nodded. Then the imp blowed out the candle, and it come dark again. I run home.' She looked up at Matthew, her eyes shocked and wet. 'Can I go now?'

'Soon,' he said. His heart had begun beating harder. 'I'm going to have to ask you some questions, and I want you to think carefully before you answer to make sure that—'

'She'll answer 'em,' Adams interrupted. 'She's a truthful child.'

'Thank you, sir,' Matthew said. 'Violet? Can you tell me what the Devil looked like?'

'Yes sir. He . . . had on a black cloak . . . and a hood over his head, so I couldn't see no face. I remember ... on his cloak . . . was gold buttons. They was shinin' in the candlelight.'

'Gold buttons.' Matthew's mouth had gone dry; his tongue felt like a piece of iron. 'May I ask ... if you know how many there were?'

'Yes sir,' she said. 'Six.'

'What's this fool question for?' Adams demanded. 'Six buttons or sixty, what does it matter?'

Matthew ignored him. He stared intently into the child's eyes. 'Violet, please think about this: can you tell me how the buttons were arranged on the cloak? Were they six straight up and down, or were they three side by side?'

'Pah!' The man made a disgusted face. 'She seen the Devil, and you're askin' 'bout his buttons?'

'I can answer, Papa,' Violet said. 'They was six straight up and down. I seen 'em shinin'.'

'Straight up and down?' Matthew pressed. 'You're absolutely certain of it?'