Orson Card - Heartfire

"They bragged about it," said Purity. "I didn't ask them."

"That's just it, you see," said the minister. "They're not from New England, and those from outside tend to mock our stricter adherence to scripture. They were having fun with you."

"They were not," said Purity. "And if you refuse to help me, I'll go straight to the tithingmen myself."

"No no," said Study. "You mustn't do that."

"Why not? A woman's testimony is valid in court. Even an orphan, I think!"

"It's not a matter of-- Purity, do you realize the trouble you are heading into with these wild charges?"

"They're not wild. And I know what you're trying so hard not to say-- that my parents were hanged as witches."

"What!" said Study. "Who told you such a thing! Who is spreading such slanders!"

"Are you saying it's not so?"

"I have no idea, but I can't imagine it's true. There hasn't been a witch trial in this part of New England for... for much longer than you've been alive."

"But the trial wasn't here," said Purity. "It was in Netticut."

"Well, that's a bit of a reach, don't you think? Why Netticut?"

"Reverend Study, the longer we talk, the farther these men will flee. And one of them is a papist, a Frenchman, brought here under false pretenses. They've been pretending he was mute."

Reverend Study sighed.

"I can see you have no respect for me, just like the others," said Purity.

"Is that what this is about? Trying to earn respect?"

"No, it's not!"

"Because this is not the way to do it. I remember the Salem trials. Well, not that I remember them myself, I wasn't even here, but the shame of that city still endures. So many killed on the testimony of a group of hysterical girls. The girls were left unpunished, you know. They lived out their lives, however their consciences let them do it, because it was impossible for an earthly judge to know which charges were malicious and which were the product of self-delusion and mob mentality."

"I am neither a group nor hysterical."

"But such charges do provoke a certain skepticism."

"That's nonsense, Reverend Study. People believe in witchcraft. Everyone does. They check for it at the borders! They preach-- no, you preach against it in meetings!"

"It's all so confusing. What I preach about is the attempt to use hidden powers. Even if they exist, they should not be used to gain advantage over one's neighbor, or even to gain good fame among one's friends. But the formal charge of witchcraft, that requires allegations of contact with Satan, of maleficence. Depending on who the interrogators are, there may be questions about witches' sabbaths, there will be naming of names. These things get out of hand."

"Of course they'll lie about Satan. They never said anything about Satan to me."

"There. It's not witchcraft, you see?"

"But isn't that just what we expect?" said Purity. "Don't we expect a witch to lie?"

"That's what happened at Salem!" cried Study. "They started interpreting denials as lies, as attempts to cover up Satan's penetration of the community. But later it was discovered, it was realized, that there had never been any witchcraft at all, and that the confessions they got were all motivated by a selfish desire to save one's own life, while the only ones hanged were those who refused to lie."

"Are you saying that you believe the Bible is wrong when it says we shall not suffer a witch to live?"

"No, no, of course if you actually find a witch, then you must... act, but--"

"I have found a witch, Reverend Study. Please summon the tithingmen to help me obey the Lord's injunction in the Bible."

Sick at heart, Reverend Study rose to his feet. "You leave me no choice."

"As they left me no choice."

Study stopped at the door and spoke without facing her. "Do you not understand that many long-pent resentments can be released by this sort of thing?"

"These men are intruders here. What resentments can anyone have against them? The judges will be honest. My testimony will be honest."

Study leaned his head into the doorjamb and almost whispered his answer. "There have been rumors. About you."

Purity felt a thrill of fear and joy run through her body, making her tremble for a moment. Her guess was right. Her parents did die for witchcraft, just as she figured. "All the more reason, then, for me to prove myself loyal to the scripture and an enemy to Satan."

"Fire burns all hands that touch it."

"I serve God, sir. Do you?"

"Sometimes God is best served by obeying his more merciful statements. Judge not lest ye be judged. Think of that before you point a finger." Then he was gone.

Purity waited alone in Reverend Study's office. His library, really, it was so stacked and shelved with books. How did he get so many? Had he really read them all? Purity had never had an opportunity to study the titles. Sets of pious literature, of course. Collections of noted sermons. Scriptural commentary. Law books? Interesting-- had he thought of studying law at some time? No, it was ecclesiastical law. With several books on the prosecution of witches, the investigation of witches, the purification of witches. Reverend Study might pretend to have no concern with such matters, but he owned these books, which meant that at some time he must have planned to refer to them. He had not been "here" during the witch trials in Salem, which were the last held in eastern Massachusetts. That could mean he hadn't been born yet-- how long ago were they? --at least a century, perhaps half again that long. But he had been involved in witch trials somewhere. Yes, he knew and cared very much about these things.

She held the book On the Investigation of Witchcraft, Wizardry, and Other Satanic Practices but could not bring herself to open it. She heard that they used to torture the accused. But that must not be the way of it today. The laws were strict that a person could not be forced to incriminate himself. Ever since the United States were formed from the middle colonies and put that rule into their Bill of Rights, the same principle had been given force of law in New England as well. There would be no torture.

The book fell open in her hands. Could she help it? It fell open to a particular place which had been well-thumbed and much underlined. How to put the question to a witch who is with child.

Was my mother pregnant with me when she was arrested and tried?

The child is innocent before the law, being unborn and thus untouched by original sin. Original sin inheres to the child only upon birth, and therefore to take any action which might harm the unborn infant would be like punishing Adam and Eve in the garden before the fall: an injustice and an affront to God.

I gave my mother a little longer life. I saved her by being-- yes, my very name-- by being pure, unstained, untouched by original sin. How many weeks, how many months did I give to her?

Or did she think of this as torture, too? Had my father already been hanged as she languished in prison, awaiting her own trial as she grieved for him and for the child in her womb, doomed to be an orphan? Would she rather have died? Did she wish she didn't have a child?

She should have thought of that before she partook of forbidden practices. "Knacks," they called them in the wicked parts of the land. God-given gifts, that journeyman blacksmith called them, as he attempted to deceive her. But the true nature of Satan's false gifts would soon come clear. The "knacks" these witches use, they come from Satan. And because I know I have never had truck with Satan, then the small talents I have can't possibly be a hidden power. I'm just observant, that's all. I don't turn iron into a golden plow, like the one Arthur Stuart told about-- a plow that dances around because it's possessed by evil spirits like the Gadarene swine.