Children of Salem

“Not until someone in high office begins to question the sanity of it all, among them the blasted ministers and magistrates themselves! Not to mention the confounded governor!”

“Or Phipps’ wife.”

“Isn’t there anyone in all of Salem with any sense, Jeremy?”

“Perhaps Reverend John Hale of Beverly where the seer children have been taken to root out even more evil and witchery there. I’m sure when all this began, he had no notion they’d be paraded through his town to point out old women with warts on their noses.”

“They are paraded on white horses through communities like God’s chosen, and one finger points at a man or woman, and he is arrested!”

“Yes, well, you see, the seer children can ‘see’ into the Invisible World so that the witches can no longer hide behind respectable aprons!”

“Speak of respectable! Look. It’s her.” Sperlunkle stared out his office window.

“Her who?” Jeremy joined him at the window, looking out over the bold lettering.

“Mrs. Phipps.”

“On the street? Where? I must—”

“No, it’s her carriage, there!” Sperlunkle pointed. “At the jailhouse again.”

“Disobeying her husband?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“I must see her, speak to her.” Jeremy rushed for the jailhouse. As he made his way toward the beautifully dressed, proud Mrs. Phipps, he saw that her servant held two large baskets stuffed full with sweat meats, and that a pale of clean drinking water with a dipper trailed after in Abraham’s hands. The jailor must be making good money, today, Jeremy thought as he’d made no effort to stand in Mrs. Phipps way, and the lady of mercy—known for her compassion and generosity and kindness, passed rolls and biscuits through the bars to waiting hands and anxious eyes. As Jeremy came near, one of her servants grabbed him.

“Unhand me! Lady Phipps!” Jeremy called out. “I must speak with you, please! It’s urgent!”

Horatio Sperlunkle had joined Jeremy, and he threatened the second coachman with a cane. It appeared there would be a row in the street when Abraham shouted, “Mr. Wakely, it’s you is it?”

On hearing his name, Mrs. Phipps gave Jeremy a second look, staring hard and sizing him up. She was acquainted somewhat with Sperlunkle and his paper as well, and now she shouted, “Jonas! There’ll be no violence! Let Mr. Wakely be.”

Jeremy approached her and bowed. “I am Jeremiah Wakely. You have my petition for an audience, ma’am.”

“I do.”

“Have you read it, my lady?”

“I have.”

“Time is of the essence.”

“Your words were most intriguing and mysterious. You say you have evidence of the motives of Reverend Samuel Parris. I confess, I would like to hear more, but I can’t promise you anything will come of our speaking.” After all, I am not the governor, only his wife went unspoken but understood.

“I understand, but—”

“You might do well to petition to see the Governor himself.”

“I prefer to take my chances with you, Madame.”

She sighed so heavily that her dress rose an inch above her bosom and resettled. “Ride with me. In the coach,” she indicated the opened door that Jonas now held for them, a glare in his eye. She added, “It may be best you impart these dark secrets while in my carriage than at the mansion. The walls have ears there.” She gave a quick glance to Jonas, a bird-beeked, hungry-eyed looking fellow. Shakespeare’s Cassius, Jeremy thought, but without the Senate seat.

“Excellent,” Jeremy said as he settled into the cozy interior. “It is more than I had hoped for.”

She sat across from him, her dress taking up most of the room inside. With the door shut, she lifted a small parasol and tapped the roof. In a moment, the single-horse carriage pulled away from the jail, and through the slit in a drape at the window, Jeremy caught a fleeting glimpse of Abraham and Horatio beside one another with amusement and amazement on their faces.

It was as if once again fate had stepped in.

# # # # #

Inside the carriage, which from what little Jeremy could tell, was on its way back to the Governor’s home, he feared he had but the coach ride to convince Mrs. Phipps of his beliefs. To this end he launch right in. “First, you must know that I do not support the court in Salem.”

“So I have heard.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Then you know I believe they have not only arrested hundreds who are innocent but they’ve hung some who are innocent, principally Rebecca Nurse.”

“To whom you are related, yes?”

It was not an unprecedented moment for her; Mrs. Phipps had entertained a number of previous petitions for leniency and mercy. “I understand your position, Mr. Wakely, and I admire your candor and fervor. Nowadays, it takes a brave man to speak out. Do go on.”

“I spoke with one of the first arrested, who is here in your jail in Boston.”

“Mr. Parris’ black servant, this Tituba Indian you mentioned in your petition to me. I must admit, Mr. Wakely, I was intrigued the moment I saw your name affixed to it.”

“So my ill-gotten reputation precedes me? I am not surprised.”

“Your name has come up on occasion at the mansion.”

“My name?” He noted her half smile.

“You have many enemies among the judges and ministers, Mr. Wakely.”

“Don’t think me after some sort of personal vengeance against Parris, madam. I am only interested in right and the law.”

“Ah, it’s justice you seek?”

“An end to the injustice in Salem, ma’am.”

“And you say you have vital information that might lead to an end to the injustices? And that you found it here in Boston.”

Jeremy nodded. “I’ve written down my allegations against Parris—allegations of deception, murder, and cover up long before he arrived in Salem.”

“Before Salem? Tell me more about this Barbados connection. It’s all rather like a Greek play.”

She was indeed intrigued, and this made Jeremy study her for any guile.

“I have met Samuel Parris on two occasions,” she admitted in a deep whisper, “and I put nothing past the man. But my husband is not such a good judge of character.”

Jeremy nodded. The carriage hit an area of bumpy cobblestones. They would soon be at a standstill at the mansion, and Jeremy knew their interview would be over. He wondered now if she’d disobeyed her husband to feed the prisoners as a cover to see Jeremy for this discussion.

Jeremy told her all that he suspected, and all that Tituba had imparted. He finished with, “I am only sorry that you could not hear it from Tituba herself. She convinced me of her sincerity, and it has the ring of truth.”

Mrs. Phipps had sat stolid, her features unchanging. She hadn’t even flinched when Jeremy spoke of how Tituba’s child had been discarded like so much garbage. “The ring of truth,” she repeated the phrase.

“You’re not convinced?”

“Mr. Wakely, oddly enough Governor Phipps and I spent some time on Barbados.”

“You did?”

“When Parris ran his enterprise there. I always found it odd that he’d become a minister in Salem.”

“And Increase Mather could not find any evidence of his having been ordained a minister at Harvard.”

“I’ve made inquiries regarding this too.”

“Then I have an ally in you?”

“No.”

“No?”