Robert Walker - Children of Salem

And where is Jeremiah? Has he made any headway in Boston whatsoever? God help him. God help me.

Chapter Seven

Jeremiah had been held up in Boston when Dancer had shown signs of hobbling rather than trotting. He had pulled up and taken a look at the leg Dancer favored. Blood oozed from her left-front hoof. On close examination, he saw that the horse needed a fresh shoe as stones had gotten under the older shod work. The stones had worked into the flesh.

As it must be done, Jeremy returned to Boston, located a smithy, and decided to have all four hooves shod. It meant another day in Boston, but now he was back in the vicinity of the Nurse home.

He now stood on a high rise overlooking all of Salem Farms, rising up on his stirrups, peering through his spy glass for any signs of life down at the Nurse home, any sign of Serena in particular. But the stillness and darkness of the place even now in early sunlight created an odd, painful fear in his chest, a feeling of déjà vu, as in the time he and Serena had returned only to learn that Rebecca had been taken. Nothing looked normal down there.

His immediate thoughts and fears raced to Serena.

He settled back into the saddle and drove toward the house. Dancer felt good beneath him, as if happy to see home as well.

When he pulled up at the gate and tied Dancer to, he noticed that the gate had been broken off its hinges. He rushed up the stairs only to be met by big John Tarbell, a look of terrible pain coloring his face. “It’s bad news, Wakely. Bad news all round.”

“Serena? Where is she?” He rushed past and inside the dark interior.

“Father Francis is dead.” Tarbell stood behind him.

“I hear no wailing, no one!”

“The house is empty save for me and now you.”

“And Serena? Where is my wife, man!”

“Taken.”

“Taken?”

“She was arrested as a witch yesterday.”

“Yesterday I was supposed to be here! Damn me!”

“You couldn’t’ve stopped them taking her, and Francis died trying. His heart gave out. I think he could not see his daughter done the way of Rebecca.”

Jeremy stood staring at Tarbell, unable to believe all this had come about only in the past twenty-four hours. “Ben?”

“Away.”

“Joseph?”

“Walking around in circles.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s walking a petition for Serena, door to door. And there was another hanging yesterday as well—John Proctor among them, along with Williard.”

“Both the Proctors? And Williard?”

“Mrs. Proctor survived, but John, the others on the list, Martha Carrier, George Burroughs, Old Jacobs, Williard, yes, and a man who bravely stepped forward when they were going to go ahead with the execution of the pregnant Elizabeth Proctor.”

“A brave man who stood in for her?”

“They really wanted to use all six of those traps this time,” Tarbell muttered.

“Who stood in for Mrs. Proctor and her unborn child?”

“Samuel Wardwell.”

“Known since I was a lad as the Wizard of Andover.” Jeremy went back outside, unable to look on the sad sight of Francis Nurse’s corpse any longer where Tarbell and Joseph had laid him in a newly built coffin. From behind him, Jeremy heard Tarbell say, “We intend burying him alongside Rebecca.”

“One secret that has been kept around here,” Jeremy muttered, staring out at the spot where Rebecca lay. “The bastards are decimating our family, John.”

“Not sure what that means, but I can guess.”

Jeremy leaned into the railing here on the front porch. His heart sank as the sun rose higher, realizing how horrible it must be at this moment for Serena. “So side by side they hang a minister and a wizard,” he said and coughed out an angry laugh.

Tarbell stood alongside him. “And they would have killed an innocent babe, had not the wizard stepped forward.”

“Aye. They’ve their own notions of innocence and guilt these days.”

“No doubt the unborn child will make a witch once free of the womb.” Tarbell spat.

“And Serena? Where’ve they taken her? Which of their bloody holes?”

“She sits in the same jail her mother once occupied.”

“Damn them! Damn them all! I’m going for her!”

Tarbell grabbed him and shoved him against a wall. “Not by day, and not alone, brother.”

It was the first time any of the Nurse boys or brothers-by-marriage had called Jeremiah brother. “What do you propose?”

“I propose this time we do what we failed doing last time.”

“Right, good!”

“We carry her out of there, and you , sir, you take her as far from here as you can.”

As Mother and Father had asked me to do , he silently chastised himself. “I shouldn’t’ve gone off to Boston. I should’ve taken Serena and disappeared.”

“Right . . . right. Look, man, she wouldn’t go without Francis in there, and he wouldn’t leave Rebecca out there.” He pointed to the stand of oaks.

“Away to Connecticut then, once we have Serena back.”

“We may follow,” replied Tarbell.

“We’ll take new names, and once there no one will know us.”

“The fools behind this terrible mischief have allowed the children to reach too far in their accusations.”

“Are you saying those in control of the bratty accusers have lost any control they may’ve once had?”

“Most certainly true with this latest mad accusation.”

“Against whom?”

“Against Mrs. Hale of Waverly.”

“Not the minister’s wife!” Jeremy grasped his brother by the arm.

“Yes, the terror at Reverend Hale’s doorstep now.”

“My god, but then perhaps the lunacy will be at an end. I mean if they can call out that dear lady, a minister’s wife . . .”

“All the same, you and Serena must disappear.”

“But imagine it. They’re accusing Mrs. Hale of rank witchcraft? Mrs. Hale? John Hale’s wife?”

“Some are already backing off it as a case of mistaken identity on the astral plane, as things can be confused for those who see into that damnable Invisible World they speak of. How’s that for a laugh?”

“I can’t recall a time when we could laugh, John. But if this is true, then Hale himself must see the error—the horrible error of it all. This acceptance of spectral evidence, the madness of it.”

“We can only pray. But as I said, the adults who stand behind the children —those bloodthirsty children—are recanting this accusation for them.”

“Why would they point a finger at Mrs. Hale of all people?”

“She has taken up the same cause as Mrs. Phipps.”

“The governor’s wife?”

“Yes.”

“What cause is that?” Jeremy wildly imagined Mrs. Hale telling people about an unaccounted for child in Barbados, a child killed by Parris and a mysterious Dr. Caball.

“The cause of feeding the accused—same as Serena did here, and Mrs. Phipps is known for in Boston.”

“I see.”

“Mrs. Hale made a habit of visiting the jails with loaves of bread baked in her own kitchen.”

“Pity and mercy are now cause to accuse others?” Jeremy shook his head and watched as some men made their way toward Salem Town with what few goods they had to barter with today.

“No big surprise, really. Look at how many people who’ve signed petitions have come under arrest.”

“She’s a brave lady then, Mrs. Hale.”

“And a lady of great distinction. But then so is Serena and Rebecca and her sisters.”

The two men found some ale and toasted to Francis. After a time, Tarbell said, “Mr. Hale has gone about denouncing any such notions of his wife—and in doing so—”

“Has himself been called out at warlock?”