Authors: Elizabeth Lloyd
Witch Child (13 page)
Salem, 19 August 1692
All day I have not moved a muscle from the house. What did he mean “More to come from me soon”? Is he to leave another note? Are instructions to follow? Dear God, I feel ill from panic!
Pray, God, let this demented man leave me alone. Is it not enough his evil wife tortures me? Is it not enough I live daily with threats of slitting my throat if I do not sign my soul to the Devil? Why, God, do You let Satan do this to me? Have I been such a straying lamb that You do not wish me back into Your fold? I try, God, I
do
try, to be Your obedient servant. So often do I read Your Scriptures that my eyes burn and my head constantly aches. Tell me any chapter and verse, and I can recite it in slumber! Nay, not in slumber! For that is when she torments me, wanting my throat! Constantly do I fear already it is slit. Is that what You intend, God? That some night those long, bony hands shall reach down with a gleaming knife, and blood shall soak my pillow? So tormented am I, dear God, I fear some night I shall do it
myself!
Pray, God, don't desert me! You are all I have left! There is no one else to whom I can turn!
do
try, to be Your obedient servant. So often do I read Your Scriptures that my eyes burn and my head constantly aches. Tell me any chapter and verse, and I can recite it in slumber! Nay, not in slumber! For that is when she torments me, wanting my throat! Constantly do I fear already it is slit. Is that what You intend, God? That some night those long, bony hands shall reach down with a gleaming knife, and blood shall soak my pillow? So tormented am I, dear God, I fear some night I shall do it
myself!
Pray, God, don't desert me! You are all I have left! There is no one else to whom I can turn!
Can You hear me, God? If You can, pray redeem me! Do not let this wicked woman and her demented husband wrench me into their grasp!
Salem, 20 August 1692
“Slit your throat! Slit your throat! Slit your throat, Rachel!” she tells me over and over.
Salem, 20 August 1692, aft
I fear even going to the barn without someone beside me. When Mama bid me put out salt licks, I feigned a fit so as not to have to walk round the pasture. Daniel did them instead. In the kitchen garden, I made Mercy go with me, so fearful was I Goodman Glover would sneak up behind me. Mercy whimpered to Mama, “Mama, please don't make me go with Rachel.” In two fortnights she has not been alone with me. Sweeping the front yard, constantly do my eyes dart this way and that, ready to bolt should they catch sight of some small weasely shadow creeping up to snatch me.
Everyone thinks 'tis only my visions which plague me. Mercy, white and trembling when we picked squash in the kitchen garden, pleadingly asked, “Can't . . . can't you do something about them? Your visions?” O that I could! O that I could make that fiendish woman depart, taking with her, her vile and disgusting husband!
Papa angrily took me aside after morning meal and admonished, “Rachel, you promised you would put that woman from your mind! You gave me your word!” 0 were it so easily accomplished as promised! How I do weep for how I have disappointed Papa. But how much more disappointed would he be to learn the truer reason for my daily torment!
So blatant is that torment that even Annâdear, sweet, timid Annâasked as we sat with our spinning, “Rachel? Does your possession grow worse? Do forgive me for prying. But I cannot help but notice how deeply it ails you.”
“Aye! Aye!” I wanted to scream. “My possession does indeed worsen! But worse still is what it brings in its shadow!”
Reality and visions oft mix into one, and my head throbs for not being able to determine which is which. Is the husband the vision and the wife the fact? Pray, what happens to my mind? Is it lost?
Mama and Papa forced me to the hanging of Goody Lawson, thinking visual reminder of the riddance of a witch would pluck out my imagination, leaving me free. But so fearful was I of the encountering of Goodman Glover that I huddled with my back up against Papa's as he drove the cart; and on Witch's Hill, while we waited, so close did I stand near Papa's side, he had constantly to shake me off.
The hanging did nothing for my imaginationâsave to increase its vividness. 'Til the very end, Goody Lawson wept and wailed and maintained her innocence, and it seemed to take forever for her to die. Her body dangled and twitched while strange gurgles came from her throat, until finally her poor distraught husband tore from the crowd and threw himself beneath her feet, sobbing. His mind is gone. Goody Bishop whispered to Mama that he shall have to be watched.
Pray, God, don't let
my
mind go as well!
my
mind go as well!
Salem, 21 August 1692
Papa has borrowed the £21 from Goodman Bishop. I wonder if it stung Mama's pride for the money to have come from the husband of her best friend. Always they have been on equal footing, Mama and Goody Bishop, with Mama last year rising one step higher after Papa's inheritance. And now Mama not only moves a step below, but is beholden to someone who, in the subtlest of manner, will constantly remind her of her inferior position.
So self-righteous is Goody Bishop, so certain of herself, that she will not admit for a moment that she might have been too hasty in her reporting of Goody Short, who purportedly caused a pot to fall from the hearth as she passed the Pearson home. That the hook on the iron was later found to be at fault makes little difference. Goody Short was already arrested. And Goody Bishop, when asked whether she wished to recant her charges, staunchly maintained, “'Tis my duty to report unnatural occurrences which infect our village.” I wonder that Goody Bishop can be so confident of her
own
perfection and purity.
own
perfection and purity.
Being wash day today, Mama bid me help her at the stream, and fearfully my eyes darted this way and that, keeping watch amongst the trees, trembling for who might appear. I did not think he would harass me with Mama near, but I was taking no chances. At the merest shadow of a shuffling, stoop-shouldered form, I was ready to bolt.
Perspiration running down our backs, Mama and I knelt at the water's edge, dipping and scrubbing the clothing, the harsh soap stinging my hands, the sun as hot as fire, until I, too, wanted to be in the cool water along with the wash. Mama bid me remove my dress and refresh myself, but at first I declined, fearing
he
would appear; yet finally the baking sun held me back no longer, and I stripped down to my shift and wriggled round in the water. How cool it felt. The rocks along the bank lay strewn with clothing stretched neatly and drying.
he
would appear; yet finally the baking sun held me back no longer, and I stripped down to my shift and wriggled round in the water. How cool it felt. The rocks along the bank lay strewn with clothing stretched neatly and drying.
Suddenly, from out on the road, such a din erupted that Mama and I both stood in startled paralysis. Horses whinnied, a cart crashed, and the quiet gurgle of the stream was shattered by screams, wails and the high pitched yelps of children. In a flash, Mama dropped her laundry, I rose from the stream, and we dashed toward the frantic cries for help.
Instantly my eyes took it all in. Bridget White, tall and enormous, was surrounded by six of her brood of tattered, wailing children while trying to remove an overturned wagon from the body of another, impeded in her attempt by the rearing, frightened horses, still harnessed to the wagon and stumbling and careening to their knees trying to tear themselves free. Without a moment's hesitation, Mama rushed to the horses. And I? Dripping wet, clad only in my shift, I instinctively raced to the wagon and lifted. In seconds the child was free.
A frantic Goody White gathered up her dirty screaming child, then halted and looked at me in amazement. I suppose I appeared like something beyond description. Did she thank me? Did she fall at my feet and cover them with kisses? Nay, not for a minute!
Goody Whiteâshe who was once a widow and bought an indentured servant, who let that servant share her bed, then wed him only to one day find him disappeared while she was left saddled with debt, making her forever after bitter and sullenâmerely squeezed her child tightly and spat to me, “You have broken his leg!”
Dumbfounded, I knew not what to reply. Finally, I breathed “But . . . but I saved him from death!”
“Hah!” snapped Goody White. “'Tis what you'd like to believe! Nearly did I have him free, when you
mangled
him!”
mangled
him!”
Her wailing, dirty brood tugged at her skirts, while the boy in her arms screamed in pain for how tightly his leg was being gripped in his mother's firm hold, shoving it toward me for inspection.
Mama had by this time calmed the horses and set them free. Efficiently she ordered, “Let us go to the house, Goody White. We'll see to the child's repair. Rachel, collect your clothes at the stream, then return to us, for we shall need assistance.”
“But, Mama . . . !” pled I, in my defense.
“'Tis no time to talk, Rachel. Do as I say. Goody White, we may have to call on the physician. I shall send Daniel.”
Disgusted, I returned to the stream, leaving Mama with the ranting Goody White and her wailing, scruffy brood, all headed toward the house, with Mama all the while attempting to bring order and control to the chaotic assembly while leading the skittish horses. I was sorry I had even considered rescue. I should have let the child be squashed. Such thanks do I get when I
do
try to be kind.
do
try to be kind.
In the end, the physician came, the child's leg was set, the sullen, bitter mother and dirty tattered children were invited to stay for midday meal and no one ever once turned to me with a whit of gratitude.
Later, Mama said, “I know you tried to do a nice thing, Rachel. But as Goody White does not see it so, we shall let it be. 'Tis best to leave a thing unmentioned than to have it raise quarrels.”
So, dear God, my better side shall go ignored. But
You
see it, don't You?
You
see it, don't You?
Salem, 22 August 1692
A most fearsome storm swelled over our little village. In midmorning, the skies turned suddenly from a calm, clear blue to midnight black, and the wind arose with such ferocity that trees were felled, malt houses collapsed and livestock were tossed into fences. Rain poured down in torrents. The river swelled, and the road became a quagmire so deep even a horse could be lost. Fields became raging lakes. Lightning crashed, thunder boomed and the tea cups rattled in the cupboard. We all feared for our lives, so tumultuous were the elements.
Then, just as swiftly as it arose, it left. Skies were again a blinding blue, and the sun beat down warm and hot like fire. Goodman Sheafe said he used to see such storms at sea. He said from nowhere they appear, tossing a ship like 'twas at the mercy of monsters amidst the snarling waves; but just when the last mast is to shatter, the storm suddenly moves on, and once again the sea sings calm and steady. I do not think I would like the sea.
Reverend Parris says the storm is another sign of the Devil's intervention. “Satan once again rears his ugly head!” bellowed Reverend Parris as he surveyed the destruction. “He shall not let us rest in peace! We must continue to drive out all his sinners! Nothing but witches cause these unnatural events!”
Cows were lost, sheep battered senseless, fences destroyed and Goodman English's roof was gone. I was pleased about the roof. Now both the Disboroughs and the Englishes are without shelter. Though by eve, 'twas almost replaced. And both families again take lodgings together.
I wonder if 'twas Goody Hale and her spell that made it all happen?
Salem, 23 August 1692
Today I talked to Goody Glover. In the barn I was when she came at me with threats to slit my throat. Papa's gleaming scythe stood near, and so frightened was I that Goody Glover would pick it up and use it, that I very nearly signed her book!
“Leave me be! ” I cried, sobbing. “Can you not see how miserable you make me? And call off your demented husband, as well! Both of you drive not only
me
to misery, but my whole family!”
me
to misery, but my whole family!”
Betwixt her cackling laughter, I heard her say in that strained, shrill voice cut short by a noose, “'Tis as I intend!” Then the laughter grew louder.
That was when I got the idea to bargain. “I shan't sign your book!” I cried. “I shall never sign! But if you and your husband leave me alone, I shan't tell anyone you were second choice! No one shall ever know your husband never loved you!”
For a moment, I thought it might work. The barn was silent, and I could hear only my own heavy breathing. Perhaps Goody Glover was considering my bargain. But just as my breath started coming more evenly, the barn again rang with cackling laughter. “Do you not hear me?” I shrieked, angrily. “Do you care nothing for your pride? If you do not bid your husband to leave me be, the whole village shall learn you were never wanted!”
Mercy, standing at the door, glanced round in confusion. Her small voice said “Is . . . is someone with you?”
Wearily, I told her nay; 'twas only me. Trying to bargain with Goody Glover.
Mercy's eyes grew as large as moons. “You're . . . you're making
pacts
with her?” she breathed.
pacts
with her?” she breathed.
“I was trying to bid her riddance.” I replied.
Naturally Mercy told Mama. And Mama was appalled. So I told Mercy I wished
she
would go to the Devil for being such a tattletale.
she
would go to the Devil for being such a tattletale.
At that, Mama gasped, drew a terrified Mercy into her arms, bade me apologize and commanded, “There shall be no more talk like
that
, Rachel Ward! And no more pacts with the Devil, either!”
that
, Rachel Ward! And no more pacts with the Devil, either!”
To end the day on a fitting note, Goody Lawson's husbandâthe one who lost his mindâis accused of being a witch. Goody Bishop reported him.
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