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—
