'The witch test?'
'Yes. When a person was accused of witchcraft, there was sort of a preliminary cut made of witches and non-witches. A real witch could swim. Innocent victims couldn't. So many American villages used the ducking stool as a test. The real witches swam to shore and were tried and convicted at a later trial.'
'And the innocent victims?' asked Mrs. Hallenbeck.
'Drowned,' said Quill.
'My goodness!' With a certain degree of ceremony, Mrs. Hallenbeck took a pair of glasses from her purse, fitted them on carefully, and peered at the makeshift stage by the ducking stool.
With the steadily increasing popularity of Hemlock History Week, the town had turned the area adjacent to the ducking pond into a twenty-acre municipal park some years before. An asphalt parking lot lay at the north edge, and half a dozen picnic tables surrounded the pavilion. The pavilion itself consisted of a large bandstand surrounded by enough wooden benches to seat two hundred spectators. The entire park fronted the Hemlock River; the Falls that formed such a unique backdrop to Meg and Quill's inn rushed gently into the river at the south of the park. The ducking pond was edged with concrete. A sluiceway was lowered to fill the pond in spring, and lifted to empty it in winter. A ten-foot fence of treated lumber stood at right angles to the pond's edge, where Harland Peterson parked his ancient John Deere farm tractor every year to power the ducking stool into the water. A chorus of cheers greeted him as the John Deere chugged into place behind the fence. He hopped out of the cab, waved his baseball hat to the crowd, and began hooking the ropes attached to the ducking stool to the metal arms on the front loader.
'That thing is old,' Edward observed. 'Fifty-six or fifty-seven at least.'
'The Petersons are pretty thrifty,' said Quill. She avoided Mrs. Hallenbeck's eye. Harland jumped back into the cab and raced the motor. Belching black smoke, the tractor jerked the front loader aloft. The ducking stool dangled freely in the breeze from the river.
'I thought a ducking stool was sort of a teeter-totter,' said Edward. 'The judge or whoever sat on one end, the accused witch on the other, and then the judge got up.'
'Yes,' said Quill.
'That's a lot simpler than using a tractor, isn't it?'
'Yes,' said Quill. 'So why...'
'Harland Peterson wanted to be part of the play. But he refused to dress up in a costume.'
'And!'
'The Petersons have owned most of the town for generations. See that nice house there, over by the pavilion? Tom Peterson lives there. He's Harland's cousin. Harland donated the land for the park. And he owns a tractor.'
'Ah.' A look of ineffable pleasure crossed Edward's face. 'I'm going to enjoy this.'
Howie Murchison, Tom Peterson, and Elmer Henry ranged themselves in front of the stool. Esther dragged Mavis unceremoniously in front of them, shoved her head forward into a bowed and penitent attitude, then spoke earnestly to her. She stepped back, raised both arms, and dropped them.
'Take One!' she shouted.
'Are they filming this?' said Edward.
'Oh, no,' said Quill cheerfully. 'Esther sent away for a PBS videotape on directors' techniques. The Chamber argued for months about paying for it.'
'Did they pay?' asked Edward, clearly fascinated.
'No. Marge said she'd tell Esther what to do for free.'
'I ACCUSE!' roared Elmer Henry suddenly.
Mrs. Hallenbeck jumped.
'It's just the play,' said Quill. 'There's a whole bunch of `accuses.' '
'I ACCUSE GOODY MARTIN OF THESE WILLFUL AND SATANIC ACTS !' Elmer hollered again. 'THE DEATH ! OF MY GOOD MILCH COW! THE SICKENING AND DISEASE OF MY FLOCK OF HENS !'
'Crowd!' demanded Esther authoritatively. 'The chorus, please!'
The crowd consisted of the eighteen Chamber members who didn't have major speaking parts. Quill noticed Keith Baumer had insinuated himself into the group.
Mumblings indicated the crowd was confused. Esther circulated briefly, issuing instructions, then stepped aside. 'Take Two!'
'I ACCUSE!' roared Elmer, and recounted the death of several chickens, ducks, and sundry hogs.
'Crowd!' shouted Esther imperatively.
'Sink or swim! Sink or swim!' the crowd roared.
Mavis flung her hands over her head and fell to the ground with a thud. 'As God is my witness! I'll never be hungry again!' Mavis shrieked dramatically.
Esther threw her script to the ground, hauled Mavis up by the collar of the print dress, and shook her finger in her face. 'Take Three!' she said in loud disgust.
Elmer, Tom, and Howie declaimed in turn about the demise of their livestock. The crowd yelled 'Sink or swim' until it was hoarse. With a defiant shake of her head at Esther, Mavis prostrated herself in front of her accusers and cried, 'As God is my witness... I am innocent!'
