example—so damned willing to believe the worst that he will make magic and witchcraft his watchword to raise a standard against spirits of the Invisible World who’ve broken through and into ours at this placed named for peace.”
“Jerusalem,” said Jeremy.
“Aye, Salem”
“For some men, peace is not enough.”
“Nor reason a worthwhile cause.”
Jeremy asked Higginson to do his utmost to be on hand for the next go round with Parris and the magistrates, and Higginson promised to do his best to be there. Jeremy then bid him adieu, and he slipped from the carriage as quickly and as quietly as he had entered. In a moment, he continued on alone for his temporary lodgings, somewhat apprehensive of the kind of welcome he might receive from Sam Parris.
Chapter Twenty
After Jeremiah Wakely’s surprise rendezvous with Reverend Higginson, he’d spent a restless night filled as it was with fears, misgivings, doubts, and forebodings—not only due to what was being said behind closed doors here in the village, but due to the nonstop suffering, blood-curdling screams, and pained howls emanating from Betty Parris and Mary Wolcott. It came as sound of an animal kennel from behind that closed door. Parris found himself far too busy doling out medicine and encouragement to Betty in particular to get into any confrontation with Jeremy.
The adults in the parsonage home found themselves helpless to release Betty from her torments. Each time she came out of the catatonic state, she found only more terrors and beasts plaguing her—coming in at her eyes, ears, mouth, and below the covers. If they were hallucinations created of a fevered mind, they were convincing ones. Convincing not only to Betty who obviously
To his credit, Parris did show a heartfelt, sincere love of his afflicted Betty, while Mary, equally ill now and lying nearby, went without the constant care of the daughter. Mary Wolcott got their attention, however, when she was discovered mysteriously gone. A search of the house turned up nothing. It was as if she’d been quietly pulled into the portal that Parris had dared kick open.
As Jeremy had become something of a member of the family, he’d thrown himself into the search for Mary, and at one point, he’d found himself alone in Samuel Parris’ room, a room off-limits to all but the invited. He’d found no Mary cringing below the bed, in a corner, below a bed, behind a closet door. However, he couldn’t help noticing loose pages lying over his
Jeremy scanned it, and what he found, he could not believe. It proved to his mind that this man was not only orchestrating and manipulating Salem Village into a witch hunt, but that he had personally decided who would next be arrested and dragged into his church to be put through the ordeal of excommunication. The name made Jeremy shudder and gasp—
Had the minister gone mad? Such an accusation would bring him down, yet this direction proved Jeremy’s worst thoughts about the awful possibilities of events here, and his most dire feelings about the so-called minister were equally accurate.
Then a messenger pounded on the door below, raising a deafening alert. It was Thomas Putnam, shouting for Parris to get to Ingersoll’s Inn
Parris fussed with Putnam. “I’ve no time for anything now, Thomas, and certainly not Ingersoll.
Jeremy grabbed up the sermon to hide it below his shirt and coat, unsure if it were wise or foolish, but he believed it was time that he act and do so now. Something inside insisted and guided his hand.
He slipped down the back stair and into the kitchen undetected, hoping to slip out the back door and get the stolen sermon notes into the hands of authorities, but who’d that be? Who could be trusted? With this question swirling about in his mind, Jeremy found himself confronted by Parris who loomed giant-like in the small kitchen.
For a moment, Jeremy felt certain the man had discovered the missing papers and was about to scream for them, but all he said was, “I’ve knowledge of Mary’s whereabouts.”
“Ingersoll’s? I overheard.”
“Please, accompany me to fetch her. Appears she’s making a scene in her delirious state of mind.”
Jeremy fought for some reasonable excuse, then any excuse, realizing every minute wasted was time running out for Serena’s mother. For all he knew, Parris had already gotten some dupe like Thomas Putnam or other to swear out a warrant for Mother Nurse’s arrest, which meant Williard and other men might be placing on the shackles by nightfall. But Jeremy could not think of a logical out. To maintain his cover, he instead nodded and said, “Of course. I am at your service, sir.”
“Good, good. If you wish it this Sabbath, Jeremy, you may deliver my sermon in my stead. I believe you’ve earned that right.”
“Me, sir? Sermon? Though I stood against you the other night?”
“I completely understand your perspective on the matter, and indeed was glad that you asked for cautious steps ahead.”
“I . . . see.” But Jeremy didn’t see at all what the sly minister might be up to.
Parris patted him on the shoulder. “Come, come. I’ll provide you with some words if that is your worry?”
He nodded, thinking Parris’ remark ironic as Jeremy indeed had the other man’s words tucked deep into his breast pocket. “Thank you, Samuel. I am honored.” Parris wanted to manipulate Jeremy into delivering the sermon that condemned Rebecca Nurse, ending with calling her forth into the meetinghouse for excommunication. The man meant to use Jeremy as he had Putam, Ingersoll, and others. As he hoped to use Hathorne and Corwin.
With Jeremy shadowing him, Parris rushed for Ingersoll’s where they indeed found Mary. The girl was in the throes of a fight for her life: a horrid, unimaginable fight with a broomstick! Yet no ordinary broom was this. As it was, by all accounts of everyone staring on, including many of the village children, an
She next lay on the floor on her back, screaming, gagging, pleading repeatedly, “Merciful God, please stop Goodwife Corey from churning me! Like I am butter! Stop hurting me!”
Until quite recently, when Mercy moved out of her uncle’s place for the Putnam home, Mary had been maidservant to the giant Giles Corey and the hefty Martha Corey at the grist mill. From the shocked look on faces all across the crowded apothecary and inn, Jeremy knew that they shared one fantastic question: How could Marth Corey be directing this broom that continued to attack this child? How as she was not even in the room! And yet the fevered child cried out that the broom making her suffer was controlled by invisible hands—those of an invisible witch, Martha Corey.
A common belief that a witch who had given over her heart to Satan could step out of her body and make all manner of mischief and attacks on her enemies, and do so in an invisible form.
No one challenged the notion that the miller’s wife worked the jabbing broom; that she’d somehow come in this terrifying state—as an
But the broom, which Mary tried to wrench free from the invisible one, kept rising and jolting her abdomen now. She was not strong enough as her stiff arms could not keep the broom away no matter her struggle.
