I Walk in Dread (9780545388047) Read online

  When Mem got home she came straight to me and shouted, “Deliverance Trembley, you had better listen to me and listen good. Get thyself to the Meeting House tomorrow, and make sure that plenty of people see you nodding at every pearl of wisdom in Mr. Lawson’s sermon!”

  He is to teach us what God thinks of witches.

  Why did Mem feel she had to say that? Does she honestly question my Christian faith? Does she not know in her heart that the Bible was thrown by accident? How could she believe that I am a witch, when she has lived with me all my life and knows me better than anyone?

  Of course I am going tomorrow! But not to show my face to the tongue-wagging witch hunters, as Mem would have me. I am going because it is Lecture Day and I would never miss a sermon. I am a Gospel Girl. I shall go to show my face unto the Lord.

  Later …

  My skin is crawling with cold fear. I have had a horrifying thought: Have those wretched girls asked Mem why I was not at the examinations? Have they seen me in their fantasies? Is that why she confronted me about going to the Meeting House tomorrow? O Dear Lord, save me. Innocence is no defense against the spectral visions of those wicked girls.

  While I am showing my face unto the Lord, it shall not hurt to make sure that Abigail and Ann get a good look, as well.

  March ye 24th

  After shunning the examinations, my ears heard every detail, anyway. It could not be helped, with voices all around the Meeting House repeating the talk of the previous days.

  Giles Corey had been called in and asked if anything strange had happened in his wife’s presence lately. He said that he had trouble praying last Saturday until Martha helped him.

  “Bewitched, he was,” someone said.

  Sometime last week his ox was lying in the yard and would not get up but dragged its hinder parts as if it had been shot. That explains why Goody Corey felt a need to check on it the day I was there to pray with her! After a while the animal did rise and is fine now.

  “Now that the witch is in jail,” someone said.

  Goodman Corey had a cat take ill. His wife bid him knock the cat in the head to put it out of its misery, but he did not, and the cat is well now.

  “Any creature would be well without a witch to hex it,” someone said.

  I also heard about the long, sad examination of poor old Rebecca Nurse. The Widow Holten was among the accusers. She is convinced that the malice of Rebecca Nurse killed her husband three years ago. Apparently the Holten pigs got loose in the Nurses’ field, and Goody Nurse came to their house railing and threatening to have the pigs shot. After that, Goody Holten’s husband fell sick and made her Widow Holten.

  Rebecca Nurse is so infirm and hard of hearing that she hardly knew what was happening to her. In the crowd I heard voices of sympathy for her, and some talk of making a petition in her favor. I am glad of it. I would as soon believe Deodat Lawson a witch as that fine lady.

  When Dorcas Goode was examined, the girls went through their usual contortions in court and showed the marks of her baby teeth on their arms. She testified that her mother the witch had gave her a little snake that used to suck on her. She held up her forefinger to show where. The examiners found a deep red spot, about the bigness of a fleabite, which I have no doubt it was. The child must have remembered her mother putting a leech to a wound, to rid it of pus. But the judges took the mark as proof that the Devil had been sucking on the child’s blood to take her soul, and now she has been shipped off to Boston to join her mother in prison.

  Satan must have been pleased with that day’s work. He tricked a man to nail his wife’s coffin, ruint a saint, and condemned a little girl with milk teeth.

  As for the Lecture, the Meeting House overflowed with multitudes come to hear the Reverend Deodat Lawson. The windows had to be thrown open so everyone on the green could hang on every word. He described at great length the marvelous power with which Satan is able to operate on mankind. He warned us against using any countermagic, even to help the afflicted, and condemned the use of white magic, be it horseshoes on the threshold or egg white in a glass. Mem stiffened at that.

  I strained to listen carefully and understand what the Reverend Lawson said, for he used fancy language. His meaning did not always seem to match what I expected to hear. Did he say that Satan could be planting suggestions in the minds of the victims, and not using witches to do it? If so, I do not think the congregation believed him. He also warned us not to criticize others without sufficient grounds, or ever accuse falsely, or our ill will would give Satan an entry to our soul. Of course, no individuals in the Meeting House felt these words applied to themselves.

  Everyone heard him say that those who are not with the girls are against them. Lack of sympathy with their pain indicates sympathy with the Devil.

  In the end, he roused us all with military zeal. “ARM! ARM! ARM! against the Devil” and “PRAY! PRAY! PRAY! for protection against the Devil’s wiles.” It felt as if we were all breathing a collective breath. We became a heaving mass of passion against Satan. The tormented children must be relieved of their Devils! The witches must be found out and destroyed! We must repent of every sin that hath ever been committed, and deliver the poor sheep and lambs of our Lord and Savior out of the jaws and paws of the roaring lion!

  Only when the Minister had finished and my hot rushing blood had cooled and slowed to normal did I remember Goody Corey in chains, and Goody Nurse, and little Dorcas. Innocent people, I knew in my heart, the very heart that had just been pumped up to destroy them.

  Now I wish I had not come to Lecture Day after all. It sickened me to know I had been breathing in rhythm with the roiling, broiling crowd that was now set to hang them some witches, as if that would solve all the ills of the world.

  On the way out I caught Abigail’s eye and waved.

  March ye 25th

  In the dark of the night I woke to hear Mem weeping softly. It is not the first time I have caught her weeping when she thinks I cannot hear her. She mourns her lost dream of becoming Mrs. Cooper. Usually I try to stay still so she does not know I am awake, but it is difficult to ignore a wet pillow turning cold. I moved my head away and rolled over.

  In an instant, Mem had thrown her arms around me and was bawling at the top of her lungs, a cry of utter terror that startled a shriek out of me. The dog barked, the cat mewed, the chickens clucked and crowed. My heart galloped with fear of what I expected.

  Was Mem afflicted? Were there witches sending out specters to torture innocent girls after all?

  She wailed and blubbered and made no sense until I leaped out of bed and lit a candle to make her a cup of tea. This calmed her enough to say what had possessed her.

  It was guilt.

  She had taken Mr. Lawson’s sermon to heart, and been overcome with remorse over the day Susannah saw the shape of the coffin in the venus glass. Their fortune-telling had invited the Devil into the house. The lingering evil of the egg white had attracted Sarah Goode here to make her sick, then Martha Corey to dry up the chicken that laid the egg. Between the two witches they had kept our uncle away, and brought the landlord to evict us, and led Mem to suffer the agony of grief over losing the most wonderful man ever to walk the earth, next to Jesus.

  How could she lose a wonderful man she never had in the first place? Oh, but she would not want to hear that! I stopped the thought from escaping by biting my tongue. It hurt! Tears came to my eyes.

  Mem saw them, threw her arms around me, and exclaimed, “Oh, Liv, I am so glad that you understand! Often have I wished I could talk with you like this!”

  Her arms felt too good for me to admit that I did not understand at all.

  March ye 26th

  Is it good news? John Proctor went yesterday to fetch his servant Mary Warren home from Ingersoll’s. She had spent the night there after testifying in the examinations the previous day. While crossing Cowhouse River he ran across Samuel Sibley, and asked how the folks had fared in the Village last night. Very bad, said Sib
ley. The girls were tortured all night, including Mary Warren.

  John Proctor was angry at this, and rudely said he would have paid money rather than let Mary go to testify in the first place. He said the afflicted girls should not be allowed to continue their antics. “If they were let alone, we should all be Devils and witches quickly. They should rather be had to the whipping post.”

  Mary only has fits when he is not around, but when he is there he keeps her close to the spinning wheel and threatens to beat her if she must have her fits. That is all it takes to keep her sane, unless he has to go away. Then when he comes back there she is trying that again.

  Upon parting from Sibley, Proctor said, “I am off to fetch my jade home and thresh the Devil out of her!” I hope it worked.

  Five days till we be homeless, and no word from Benjamin. I pray that he received our letter. And what to say to the Coopers? I have drafted many letters in my mind. This is as far as I have got:

  Dear Mr. Cooper,

  I cannot land on the right words. I hope he does not come here today, for I have no idea what truth will fly out my mouth.

  Sunday, March ye 27th

  It was Sacrament Day, but Mr. Parris did not focus on the Resurrection of Christ. Instead, he resurrected the discussion of witchcraft. He set up his text by saying, “Christ knows how many Devils there are in His church, and who they are.” And then he named his text: John 6:70, Jesus answered them, Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil?

  Before he finished the next verse, about Judas Iscariot, he who betrayed Christ, I saw a blur of motion a few pews away. A woman rose up out of her seat and stormed out of the Meeting House! On her way by I saw her face, red and pinched with anger. It was Sarah Cloyse, a sister of Rebecca Nurse. The door made a loud statement behind her.

  Whether it was slammed by her hand or by the wind, I do not know, but the congregation was startled. It takes great audacity to walk out during a sermon, but the Reverend Parris had made an audacious point. He might as well have come out and said that Rebecca Nurse is the Judas Iscariot of Salem Village!

  Good for Sarah Cloyse!

  Monday ye 28th of March

  No uncle, no brother, no sleep.

  The landlord will come Friday with his hand out for the rent. I have given up hope of our uncle getting home in time to pay it. I have almost given up hope of him getting home at all. There is still no word from Benjamin, either, though I am relieved that his name has not shown up on the rolls of dead or missing militia men.

  Mem does not lose sleep over these things as I do. She believes the Lord will provide for us. That is true, but the Lord will not come down to Earth and put the money into the palm of the landlord. Today I shall take Goody Corey’s meat to Ingersoll’s to sell. They always have use for good food to serve, and they pay money for it.

  The latest gossip: Mem was not the only guilty party Mr. Lawson’s sermon rousted. Mary Sibley went to Mr. Parris’s house Friday and confessed that she told Tituba and John Indian to make the witch cake! The Reverend helped her write a paper to the Church Members asking forgiveness for her rashness, and he read it to them before they took the sacraments on Sunday.

  I was not there to hear it, for only full Church Members may stay for the sacraments. However, the whole Village now knows that the Reverend Parris publicly rebuked Sibley for going to the Devil for help against the Devil. He is sorely distressed and grieved that our sister’s actions have caused all hell to break loose. Still, Mary Sibley has been forgiven. The vote was unanimous.

  I suppose it still would have been unanimous even if Goody Corey could have been there. Only men are allowed to vote.

  Tuesday ye 29th

  I am stunned. I barely know where to begin telling why.

  We had us a visitor yesterday afternoon when I got back from Ingersoll’s: Darcy Cooper. He came alone. When he heard our uncle was out at work, he would not come inside, but consented to stay and visit in the yard, with his horse as his chaperone. We talked about the weather and the witches and where our uncle might be, but my pen wants to be out with the best part already, so here it comes. Darcy said he had a question that had been wanting an answer ever since the moment he first set foot in our kitchen. It ought to be asked our uncle first, but the question could not bear to wait another moment.

  Darcy looked at Mem and chewed on his lip. He looked at his feet, and kicked a stone. Then he looked at her with softness in his eyes and said, “Mumble mumble mumble?”

  Later she told me what she thought he said: “Would it be a sad bull to make cream corn?” At that, she shook her head no and laughed at him. I thought his face would fall off, it looked so sad. But I have come to understand his speech, and I knew exactly what he had mumbled: “Would it be acceptable to you if I come courting?”

  Hearing those words made me feel strange inside. My blood rushed with the same hot surge that comes with fright. Darcy loves Mem? How could that be? And why were my palms sweating? Why was my neck itching? Why did I have the desire to go pull out all of Mem’s hair? Was I jealous?

  Well, no matter, it made my heart sore to see sweet Darcy looking so distraught. I said to him, “Methinks Mem did not hear you straight. I know she wants nothing more than a sweetheart!”

  Mem made big happy surprised eyes at me, and filled her face with a smile that lit up the yard. She moved toward Darcy as if to hug him, but then pulled back and wrung her hands with excitement. “Yes, oh, yes!” she said. “Tell your father that I would be most honored!”

  Oh, no! She thought I meant that Darcy had been speaking for Mr. Cooper!

  Darcy looked mildly confused, yet very happy, both at once. He took Mem’s wringing hands in his. This seemed to calm her agitation. With the most tender expression of love, he gazed into her eyes. My skin squirmed at the sight of it, even though I do not care the least about marrying him myself. I suppose I must have been embarrassed to witness a private moment. It was a long moment. By the time he spoke again, my skin had turned inside out.

  “My father will be very pleased to hear about our engagement,” Darcy said slowly, every word coming out clearly. He bent to kiss Mem’s hand, but by then it had slipped from his grasp, because she had fainted.

  So Darcy got permission from his chaperone to carry Mem inside, and laid her on the bed. I woke her with smelling salts, and he went happily on his way. Then Mem said: “I am not going to marry him! What could he be thinking, ugly boy!”

  She made me so angry, I could spit! “What would you rather do, live the rest of your life as a servant because you cannot have your beloved Mr. Father? Darcy may not be handsome, but he is kind, and he is strong enough to survive the pox, and he will provide a much better life for you than you deserve, you dumb skinny jade!”

  “You! You, you witch!” she screamed.

  Enough of fear. Enough of biting my tongue. Now I was angry. My blood boiled through me and rushed to my fists and sent them flying after my sister. Our bonnets came off, our hair came out by the roots, our skin scraped off under our fingernails while the animals howled. It was a fight worthy of cats.

  Before long Mem was down on her stomach, with me sitting across her back and holding on to her mane of hair. “See, you are a horse,” I said. “But I AM NOT A WITCH. DO NOT YE DARE EVER SAY THAT AGAIN!”

  And she had better not, or I will make her eat her words again!

  Later …

  Methinks she should marry him today, so we shall have a home on Friday.

  Later …

  My cheek burns from the scratches. Mem’s injuries look ugly and sore. Now I regret that I hurt her. Lord, forgive me and provide me with patience?

  Wednesday, March ye 30th

  God bless Martha Corey. On Monday the Ingersolls gave me enough for her meat and corn to keep a roof over us through April.

  The family of Rebecca Nurse has been asking around, trying to find out which of the afflicted girls first accused her. Some of them were there at Ingersoll’s and told how
their questioning went at the Putnam house. Young Ann says she did not at first know the name of the pale grandmother who tormented her. Mercy Lewis says Mrs. Putnam gave the name. Mrs. Putnam says she heard it first from Mercy. “It was you who told her.” “No, it was you who told her.”

  Mary Walcott and Elizabeth Hubbard came in while the Nurse relatives were there, and the same question was posed to them. Mary and Elizabeth did not seem to know who first saw Goody Nurse, either.

  Then a man passing through from Beverly said he had heard that Elizabeth Proctor was going to be examined the next day. Goody Ingersoll said she could not believe it. Elizabeth Proctor is a good woman, with five healthy children and a prosperous husband. Clearly she enjoys God’s providence and is among the elect. I have heard that her grandmother was a witch, though.

  “There is Goody Proctor,” one of the girls said, and pointed to the empty air. “Old witch,” said the other girl. “I’ll have her hang.”

  None of the others present at the inn could see what the girls described, and the man from Beverly accused them of lying! Goody Ingersoll joined him and gave the girls a sharp tongue-lashing for making jest of a serious matter. The girls just laughed. One of them said, “I must have my sport!”

  Sport! My heart is sore.

  Thursday ye 31st of March

  There was a public fast today, and we had Lecture Day in the Village again. Need I say what the topic was?

  Old George Jacobs made a disturbance after the Lecture. I did not hear him myself but I was told that he shook his two walking canes about and shouted crude words about the girls. He doubts the afflicted are afflicted.