Jeremiah wondered if the minister meant to come through the door with a blazing firearm or hot poker.
“I’ve come from Maine, sir.”
“Maine?”
“By way of Boston, sir!”
“Boston?”
“Have a letter of introduction, Mr. Parris, sir!”
“Letter? A post this time of night?
“Can you hear me, sir? Through the door?”
“What letter?”
“From Mather, sir, Reverend Increase Mather.”
This brought on a chill silence. Finally, Parris replied, “Mather? Did you say Increase Mather?”
“I did, sir!” Jeremiah cursed the impenetrable door. He wondered if Parris meant for him to sleep on the porch tonight. “I’d like to settle my horse, sir, in your barn.”
But Parris’ breath had caught in his lungs.
“Will you open the door, Reverend?” shouted Jeremiah. “Or shall Mr. Mather’s protege sleep in your barn?”
The pounding continued. So loud in the silent night that it sounded demonic.
Parris braced himself, lit a lantern, and pulled the door open just a crack, staring out at Jeremiah Wakely, who managed a smile. Jeremy then extended a letter with a heavy red wax seal reading IM—for Increase Mather.
The lantern glow divided Wakely’s face down the middle; one side lit bright, the other side in total darkness. The image had a strange, hypnotic hold on his reluctant host. “You look like a highwayman, Mr. Wakely.”
“I am sure, sir, but I am after all in my riding cloak and boots.”
“Give me a moment with the letter.” Parris grabbed the sealed note, pulled it inside, slammed the door closed, locked it from within, and left Jeremy in the drizzle.
Jeremy stepped off the porch and rubbed down his horse’s face. “A careful man,” Jeremy said to Dancer, the horse now shivering in the sleet. Dancer snorted, her entire body quaking when a chill ran the length of her.
The door was then pulled wide. Parris stepped onto the porch, and holding the lantern higher, looked Jeremy and Dancer over with more care. “Lovely animal.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“If you are truly from Mather . . . why do you come in at such an hour? Under darkness? It’ve been best to come in daylight.”
“A bridge was out,” lied Jeremy.
“I would’ve liked my parishioners to see your coming, to know you are here from Mather, and that Mather backs me against my enaaa . . . those who stand against me here.”
“I don’t know anything about that, sir. I’m just an apprentice . . . to be apprenticed to you, Mr. Parris, until which time—”
“Apprentice? I thought you simply a courier?” He waved the sealed note in his hand.
“You haven’t read it, sir?”
“I assumed…I mean, seeing the seal and Mather’s signature…well…” Parris gritted his teeth and read by the lantern now held by Jeremy, his riding boots squeaking and wet on the porch boards.
“I am no commoner to be taken in by a forgery; I happen to know that Mather has set sail for England, so how long has this note been circulating?”
“Circulating? No time at all.”
“How long in your possession?”
“I saw him off at the pier in Boston, and I came there by way of Wells, Maine, sir, Casco Bay area.”
“Wells?”
“Maine, Wells is in Maine, sir.”
“And you saw Mather off yesterday?”
“I did, indeed,” he lied only slightly, having missed Increase Mather by a day.
Parris fell silent. “Strange that I should finally get the man’s ear on the eve of his leaving the colonies.”
“He may be a minister but he’s a politician, too, sir—and has wisely placed his son in charge at the North Church.”
“Cotton Mather? Is that supposed to be humorous, Mr.
“Wakely, sir, late of Wells.”
“The Senior Mather, he will be back, of course?”
“Yes, to be sure.”
There was another daunting silence between them. Finally, Jeremiah cleared his parched throat and said, “Mr. Parris, I am aware of your worldliness, sir.”
“You are?”
“That you were a merchant in the West Indies—”
“Yes, Barbados, but what has that to do with—”
“—and a seaman before that. All before becoming an
“What is your point, man?
“Why that I am…will be honored to work under your tutelage, sir.” Jeremy worked hard to affect the attitude of a novice scholar.
“Indeed…lucky for both of us,” Parris countered.
“Reverend Mather provided me with a modest outline, sir, of your history.”
“He did?”
“Filled me in, yes. It’s one reason that Mr. Mather has linked us, you and I as minister and mentor.”
“Mentor?”
“Protege, apprentice, sir.”
Parris’ features took on a menacing look. He had assumed the letter from Mather a confirmation of his land holdings in Salem Village. He now placed a pair of rickety old magnifying glasses on his nose so as to truly look at the note—as if searching for what he’d lost in translation.
Jeremy watched his lips move as he read:
Rev. Increase Mather
Parris heaved the heaviest sigh Jeremy had ever seen before muttering, “Where the deuce’ll you sleep? We
