Part III
The night embrice Salem and I continue to read about Melissa Scullee's trial.
A rummaging coming from the external stairs informs me that some members of the Tribunal are going back to their rooms.And again, the place falls silent.
The light of the fourth candle shakes, so I light another one.
Alexander Kry'kev, 34 years old, Salem Village,
Swore in front of Wait Still Winthorp, john Richards, John Hathorne, on the 13th day of May…
That a month to this date he was sleeping in his locked room and in the light coming from the fireplace, Melissa Scullee appeared to him, at the feet of his bed, wearing a long black hat, with a strange yellow bird on her shoulder. Fearing for his life as he experienced a strong pain to his throat, he tried to hit the apparition with a fist, however she disappeared.'
' Extract from Edward Jersey's deposition '
As Still Winthorp asked whether Melissa Scullee attempted to charm him into committing indicent acts, the man replied with a yes, specifying, however that he did not submit to her charm, and by praying ever night, he never heard her tempting voice again at night…'
These depositions remind me of the misoginy of the Witches' Hammer, still in use by the catholics as a basic taste for their trials against the devil.
I put the documents down, checking the chronological notes I have previously copied from the ecclesiastic registers.
Melissa Scullee was Kate's older sister, I realize by the christenings' dates.
According to the witnesses, Melissa was a witch, capable of appearing and disappearing according to will, to torment in figure or voice strong men afraid of God, as Phillip Padgett's deposition suggests too.
This reminds me of the Bishop's case too, in some particular instances.
I wonder whether they have really appeared to them, the alleged witches who were executed. Or whether it was only their very strong imagination to have evoked their ghostly figures, in men who can only desire in sin, and in such a manner have decided to give vent to their desires and temptations: describing it in front of a jury.
Executing the alleged temptresses?
To make temptation so extreme, to give the guilt to someone else, makes your conduct a lot less sinful.
To eliminate the very beign who evoked luxury and lust, to liberate themselves from sin.
Satan tempts and the man refuses, but cannot avoid the images.
The Lord's own Son, did he not have to overcome temptation himself in the desert?
The spirit of Evil tried him and He remained pure.
But not every member of mankind can remain pure to evil, as a second nature.
Againt Melissa, some accounts suggests she used to torment in the form of a black cat.
I look, in my bag, for a book I have taken from Oxford.Some Philosophical Considerations touching on Witches and Witchcrafe, by Glanvill.
Conscience tells me I shouldn't, he is an Anglican, but I shut it up, looking for the part of the book I am interested in.
He was still a man of faith, I conclude.
I read until a passage I remember clearly.
' Beforehand to presume that things ( of witchcraft) were impossibile, and the to conclude that the fact could not be proved…' this is Glenvill's critique of Hobbes, the godless philosopher.
' …we can only perceive the weakness and imperfection of our knowledge and our learning capabilities, not the impossibility of such performances.'
Human beings have the right to insist about the impossibility of anything, I wonder mentally.
Magic, according to Glanvill, is possible so…but only as functional argument against Hobbes, who in turn, believed the Roman Clergy used belief in spirits and ghosts, to keep the people ignorant and to manipulate it. Avoiding a personal and individual political growth.
Us protestants grew stronger, away from Rome's power.
And what if here, in Salem, ignorance were united with the most horrid fears, with envy?
What if Evil had used the weaknesses of those girls?
If he had used a Caribbean slave to do so?
Was it enough to cause all this?
Is Satan here, amongst them?
Why, for what purpose?
The fire that happened a few years ago in Boston, the death of so much cattle, could they have cause fear amongst these good citizens and fishermen, as obscure divine premonitions?
We are still standing here fighting apparitions and ghosts, or are we fighting the power to intervene on another human being, as our Lord allows us?
Lucifer has his reign, and this is new territory.
Our Lord left us to our personal fate, which he chose Himself, at the beginning of Times.
Because of our original sins, impossible to erase.
I lower myself onto the bed, thinking of how much Scullee must have suffered, when looking at her sister, she had to witness the rope tied around her neck, looking at her for the last time with watery eyes, to say goodbye one last time, a privilege I, myself, was not granted so many years ago.
A thin arm touches my face in the dark,
A woman, with her mouth and eyes sawn with a black wire, blood on the side of her mouth. A face so familiar and at the same time foreign to me.
Her dead hands tighten around my nec, and her mouth vomits black blood.
Her hair is like infernal flames.
A loud sound similar to teeth grinding, clouds my hearing
Her finger are so strong, so thin and cold.
I try to free myself and my throat but her blind eyes keep me in place.
I choke, and the air feels like death.
Black blood drops fall on my face, I am terrified, and I jump at every cold and devilish drop which fall on my face and infiltrate my mouth and my eyes. A hole in the black ground seems to ingurgitate me, I know it is for me…I jerk from the bed, sweat pouring down.
Evil invited me to a nightmare, I condlude, trying to catch my breath, I find myself again the small room, still lit by the small candle.
The following day
Salem town,
Scullee's house
06:35 p.m.
- My daughter was not a witch, she just made one mistake, to trust little Abigail and Mary.. She played with them…She cared about all our neighbours, she was very kind to everyone…- sobbing, Margareth Scullee tried to regain composure.
I have not been here long, here, immersed in this family's pain.
She sits at the table, Kate stands next to the fireplace, calmly drying up her tears, without looking at us.
Another woman, younger, folds an Army uniform with practical hands. She sits away.
- Have you got any more children, Ms Scullee?-
- Yes, two boys. Their late father's pride. Both in the Royal Army. Tara, here, she's William's wife. – she answers drying her eyes with her apron, pointing at the lady sitting quietly in a corner.
She doesn't look back
Fruit appears from a bowl on the table, a white cat licks his fur, next to the door.
- I am so sorry, I hope … - she gets up.
- I pray to God everynight that no one can end up that way. They didn't even allow us a chrisitan burial ceremony for her..- she says disappointed.
- God bless you..- she says and leaves me, through a small door, with her heart full of uncertainty.
Talking to her did not inform me of anything new-
I should find out what kind of contact the possessed had with the withces.
I walk towards the open door and look up to Scullee.
Tara, who had not spoken yet, whispers something to her, getting closer and then leaves too.
- Did you know my sister? – she ask, following me outside the door.
The mischievous cat plays with the hem of her skirt, and follows us lazily.
I answer her positively with my eyes.
It was good to see her again, after last night's nightmare, I didn't think I could have dealt with her sad and hard look. I didn't think I could cope with it. Instead, here between her familiar things and her family, has chased away the coldness of my nightmare.
We walk towards the path to the sea.
- She loved the Lord and His Creation, she thought that living this life, full of sacrificies, would make us better.. but it wasn't like that.. The only sin she's ever done was to not to be smart enough to avoid people's evil rumors…- she folds her hands on her apron, considering the path we embarked on.
- Tell me, what kind of connection was there between her and the people who accused her?- I ask quietly, afraid to ask too intimate details.
I have not known Scullee for very long, I understand however that she has received a very strict religious education, but this thought does not prevent me from looking at her when I ask her questions.
The blue in her eyes reminds me of peacock's, the shiny blue of their regal necks.
We shine in the summer light and dust.
- She pushed them away when they asked for her hand… She felt free, maybe too much..- she answers, after a small pause, distracted by an annoying insect flying by.
- And what about the possessed girls?
- All I know is that one time, she found them in the woods, she condessed they had tried a spell…maybe they saw my sister who tried to explain to them thye didn't need spells to know the future.. I think maybe they tried to make her pay for her honesty…accusing her of the very thing they are guilty of…- she adds angrily.
- Can I ask you what you were reading yesterday?- I am starting to worry for her that all this talking about the possessed girls could be too dangerous.
- Increase Mather's sermons, the ones about the comets of a decade ago. In foster's print..- she says innocently.
- I know the topic very well. Heaven's Alarm. So you know that supernatural apparitions to a believer must be…- I begin but I am interrupted.
- ' God operates in a supernatural way on the wolrd, refusing to use the ordinary course of natural law…'- she quotes
- So supernatural is used by God as means of 'occasional' activity in the wolrd.- I conclude.
- Yes, but the apparition of a comet, just like ten years ago, should not be read as a signal by God that innocent people should die because of mad people's accusations. – she says indignantly
I am surprised by this woman's smartness, by her competent intellect.
If I picture her immersed in her reading, I feel secure, she make me feel like she never leaves anything unsure and vague.
- Obviously not. It doesn't say that. But it poses the roots for the belief in the supernatural, even within the divine creation. – I try to divert the conversation
- I cannot believe that. I prefer to believe Newton's 'Mathematical Principles', you know, the new member of the Royal Society. He tries to give a natural explanation, to every physical event. Why could we not give a Newtonian explanation to what appears to be witchcraft?
- Are you aware that what you are saying now could very well incriminate you too? – I tremble, hearing her extreme theories in such a small and sinister corner of the world.
A woman interested in science should be feared more than a witch.
- Of what – she looks at me, and I understand she is seeking to know whether she can trust me or not.
I try to do the same, I would love to trst her, I would like her to understand that…
- Alchemy.. you know better than me, that it is dangerous to investigate the Nature, only God has the plan for his Creation…Why are you so interested in men's science? Is your faith not enough?
I am not trying to make her stop, I would like it if she could speak forever to me.
I would listen to her for hours.
- Be calm, you are the first and last person I speak to about this. I believe God has allowed us to understand, beside feeling, the Nature around us. When our fathers arrived here, they found a bizarre and hostile world, which they were able to tame with their work, guided by Go. Natural or scientifical theories on nature could serve to avoid superstition. I wish science could take away our fears, to live happily in God's faith. ' I belive to understand, I don't understand to believe', Anselmo wisely belives – when she speaks, I could damn myself in her
Her eyes are so tempting.
She is similar to a net, a cobweb of silk and velvet, wherein I could…I want to lose myself.
A labyrinth where I wouldn't look for a way out, and her, my mythological Arianne could get lost with me.
- Be careful, you are falling into those theories which believe Satan is a silly story for weak women. And you can't afford that. You are a Puritan: you believe in God therefore you believe in his nemesis too- I say
- I know Satan tries to take hold of the human soul, but I also believe in the unconditional action of the Divine Grace – here she is again, she goes back to being a contradiction, skeptical and full of faith.
I am surprised how this woman could grasp all my thought is this way, that she could contrast me in the most certain theories!
I feel my suppositions shake, and my faith doesn't seem to be this strong anymore…
- What about your sister? You said you think she was innocent. But her infallible destiny was already written, as is everyone else's…you are aware of the impossibility of changing it…we are not free – I try to soothe her pain, but I don't feel like I am able to.
- We are not free, it is true, but this awareness makes us worthy. Our work makes us worthy. She has always acted for the good…Melissa is in God's heaven, I know that, because this comforts me immensely. Through my prayers I feel her happy, with my father and the Omnipotent. God does not intervene so to do bad. You know that better than me, you had the opportunity to study. I received a puritan education and found myself interested in some books and sermons I found while working .- she is so sure of her faith, at the same time she is so sure of her will too.
She could be a dangerous woman.
I have met dangerous women, when I was a young student, but they were only tempting, daughters of Venus, followers of luxury, they tempted me and I fell.
But with her… she has an active mind, like mine..
Her body is hidden and I shyly blush before my thought.
It's her mind the dangerous temptation
I should start the conversation again, I should confuse myself with quotes, sayings, theories.
- You know, sometimes I thin catholics are better off, with their free will. This freedom of will could explain how those girls could have accused your sister by their own will instead of being pushed by the Evil. And that the Evil could be destroyed through you Newtonian science. I would love it to be that way. If this hemisphere God does not want to interfere and leaves everything to Evil, then could science destroy Evil- I have her attention now, we stop, warm by the walk and by our theories.
- Evil is necessary, from the contrast Virtue rises up. It will never be defeated. Catholics are quite superstitious, don't you think? – she pauses – Are you going to tell what I have told you? Are you on their side, pricker? – she challenges me, look bluntly into my eyes, beyond the measure allowed to us.
- I am on no one's side. I trust no one. I believe in God, not in men. – I say dryily.
- You are being bitter…- she says sweetly.
- I am because of my past. – I admit to her, maybe for the first time in years.
We remain quiet and start walking again, reaching the top of a cliff with a view of the village and the town, as if they were bonded.
- Look..Seeing it from here, Salem almost looks like a nice place to live in . – she invites me to look at the beauty, but with a sad tone.
- True – I convene without being very convinced
How can this be?
How can one feel so attracted to someone one doesn't know at all?
I sit by a rock, distant from where she stands, looking at the sea below us.
With her arms around her midriff, she is almost lulling herself.
I feel tenderness for this woman, for her family hit too hard, and I understand I will not be accomplice of the Oyers and Terminers..
She flinches a little when she realizes I have moved away.
I see her getting closer, hugging herself in the wind rasing her dress.
She sits and looks down, on the grass she's playing with, and I can see her fingers bend and intertwine with the grass. She awaits.
Is she waiting for me to tell her about myself? For me to give her my trust, but how can I?
I am the last of the men…or is this my imagination too?
- I am surprised by how you trust me…a strager. – I admit confused.
- That is precisely why I trust you, you are away from this place, you belong somewhere else. – she says
- Is it so – I say unhappily
- What is wrong?- she wonders worried
- It's nothing. Some old memories. – Maybe this place makes me feel so homeless, but I am starting to feel out of place.
It is true, I don't belong here, I don't belong to anyone..
God cannot placate my pain…I swear inside myself.
- By serving God I have learnt to listen…- her voice appears suppressed, hidden.
Her pale skin shines pink.
- KATE! Come back home immediately!- a scream makes us jump and break away from our intimate thoughts.
She gets up serenely and explains
- That's William, by older broche. The head of the family. Calm down now. – she says convinced, not afraid, talking to me first and then to him.
- Isn't Melissa's reputation enough? Do you want to compromise yourself in front of the whole town with this Bostonian? Our father would have never approved of your behavious! Do you want to burn in hell? – he roars
She does not look up, absorbing his screams and shaking violently from side to side.
But not me.
I get up quickly and get closer to the siblings.
- Leave her alone, you're hurting her!- I try to convince her
He angrily looks at me and the shouts his words at me
- Don't you dare stick your nose in this! You are here to catch the witches, not to get involved with our girls. LEAVE NOW, or I'll tell the deputy governor!!- he threatens.
- If you prefer, we can deal with this right now, me and you – I roar back
I am shaking by the need to hit him.
We stay there, breathing against each other, for a few instants.
- William stop! Think about mother! And about the son God is about to give you! Let's go back home. – she clams him, and he lets go of her bruised arm, she drags him away from me.
- If you fancy any other information, you city-bound bastard, come looking for me!!- William Sculle screams, as his sister tries to drag him away.
I have met almost all the members of the Scullee's family.
My anger does not calm, when I see them walk away talking.
My destiny? Always the same: creating troubles and not being able to get out of them.
My curiosity, my boundless passion to look into the abyss.
This will take me to eternal damnation.
Have I shared chaste issues with a woman only to allow myself to burn with desire?
X Salem II
Part IISighing will not help me to get rid of this obscure feeling that followed meever since I found out I had to leave Boston, I feel estranged all of a sudden,i've never felt like this even when I left to study in oxford.This time, i'm only a few miles away from home... but which home?Who am I fooling, I have no home.I call home a place where my mother locks herself in her room and my father istoo busy with his commercial projects.We don't pray together anymore.I should probably go and look at the Rev's archive, first of all.I get dressed and ask Samuel for directions.- Sir, you should really avoid wandering around. This place belongs to theDevil. I never go out, and neither do I allow my wife and my children to go outin the streets...after all that's happened in the Tribunal...who can assure methe Black Man will not take us all? – the father seems even more scared thanhis child, he warns me, as he is tidying up the rooms, in the light of theearly afternoon, between the smell of the clean dishes and old spilt beer.- Be calm, I am here to find the Evil, and the sooner we'll do that with thehelp of God, the sooner you can go back to the streets. Good day. – I leave himalone, to dry pints with an unconvinced expression on his face, which followsme as I turn my back.The shadows look longer, we are almost in July.I am not wearing a hat, that's not too important, i've never cared that muchabout propriety.I walk closer to the Tribunal, from which come shouts followed by the DeputyGovernor's voice requesting silence.I enter from the side door, the contrast between dark and the outside light doesnot allow me to grasp much of what's going on beyond the table, in front of thelibrary.When my eyes adjust to the dark, I realize i'm not alone, in Parri's studioroom.
Parris's study,
05:38 p.m.
- Who are you? – a petite young lady asks me, looking angry with her infinitely
sad blue eyes.
White walls separate us from the Hall, which i occasionally peep into, beyond a
light cotton drape. The hall is made of dark wood. I look at faces, sad looks,
tears, before looking back at my inhospitable guest.
I am rendered speachless by her stubborness and angry attitude.
I clear my throat and introduce myself.
- Was he not happy with the witnesses? He needed a pricker.- she sharply
answers, as soon as I said my name.
- Madame, I do not know how I should address you, as you are here...- i try to
explain but I'm confused, trying to explain to her I still don't know who she
is.
- My name is Kate Scullee, Salem's Scripture Reader. – she finally answers,
lowering her head covered in a black bonnett.
- Are you irish?- I ask, her surname sounds strange to me, I knew some catholics
lived in these colonies, but I did not know they would convert to our faith.
- I am, sir. Protestan, however, sir. I surely do not support the pope!- she
adds proudly.
I realize she holds a libell in her hands.
Incredibly thin hands, I notice.
Her profile is delicate, her nose is proportionate and her red lips show a melancholic twist. Her neck was long and fine.
- Could you tell me why you are here and not in the hall, with your fellow citizens –
I hold my hands behind my back, waiting to find out more.
The distance between us is heightened by the simplistic furniture of the room.
- Those are not my fellow citizens anymore, they are barbarians possessed by the devil- she says with a whisper.
- What do you mean?- she keeps me wondering, with her veiled behavious.
- Nothing, Mr. Moulder, forget that and forgive me, I have been rude. Where you looking for something here? Do you need my help? – she seems to correct her behaviour, without showing to be much convinced by her move.
- Yes, thank you. I would like to see the Reverend's registers. I have been granted access by the deputy Governor. – I add, as if I felt out of place, stepping forward towards the desk.
She steps back, without looking at me.
- I am sure. Here they are – she stretches her arm above the table, handing me some volumes.
With my eyes, I ask for permission to take a seat, and she accepts with a nod, moving away towards the small window, without any curtain, opposite the desk.
I open one of the volumes, the one with births and deaths.
The yellow paper shows me names, dates, sums of money.
Parris is a reverend who's been well treated by his community, apparently.
I go through the sums and consider every single piece of data which may be considered interesting.
Meanwhile, she fits the scarf on her head, her eyes never meeting mine, she goes back to her book.
- Would you like to have a seat?- I ask after some time spent together but always In silence.
I smile at her unwillingly, but I suddently understand I have asked too much.
I castigate myself silently for that.
She looks at me, as if she had not heard me, and leaves the room, without a word.
I try to read those volumes for about half an hour, I look around, and from the small window of the study I see Scullee outside, so I finish off my notes on my notebook and decide to go to her, almost fervent with curiosity.
The cold walls of the study is replaced by the hot atmosphere outside, in the garden, warming me immediately.
I turn my head towards her figure.
She sits on an ash bench, her face looks concentrated on what she is reading, she doesn't realize I am there, walking towards her, without sitting. I respectfully remain distant.
- Please forgive me for what happened before… I have been impudent, please understand I have only just recently come from Boston and…- I begin saying sorry for my despicable behaviour, but she interrupts me immediately.
- Are you all like this in Boston?- she asks, without moving her eyes from the pages she's reading.
Her hands betray her tone of voice, they shake against the leather book cover and the pages.
Her voice, however, does not tremble.
- What do you mean? You mean impertinent? I don't think so...- I reply, shifting the weigh of my body from one foot to another.
She makes me feel restless, this woman is a stranger.
A seagull flies low and distracts our attention with its song.
- I mean so used to be right.- she asks back, she raises her head, looking ahead.
- Please forgive me once again for my impertinent behavior – I realize I might have been a total idiot in making such remarks about her origins and also smiling to her in that indecent manner.
- I don't feel offended. Often you ought to look beyond appearances. – She calmly responds.
- Do it now, then. – I invite.
Her eyes move to me, questioning.
I have just realized how beautiful she is.Simply beautiful.
Some red locks have escaped the cap she is wearing.
- I mean, please allow me the opportunity to explain. I need some help. I don't know anyone around here and you are the only one, it seems to me, that really doesn't like folliwng the trials. – I explain, without irony.
If she behaves so differently and independently from the rest of the community, maybe she could help me with some of the trials.
- It's sad. – she raises her eyes, towards the fields, far away – this village was happy, we used to honour the Lord, work hard the fields He created… now everything has changed. – she finishes bitterly.
- - Please explain to me what has changed. – I attempt to ask
She has made me curious, about why she goes against the collectivity, what else does she hide?
- Sir, with all due respect, do you come from the Moon? You hunt witches, for Heaven's sake! You should have seen one or two…still swinging against the wind up on the hill – her accusation warns me slightly, however I catch a hint of infinite sadness in her voice.
Her expression has hardened.
She suffers.
I worry I might have offended her again.
- Please don't leave now. I really nedd your help. – I propose, but I see her get up and walk towards the wooden fence.
Without touching her, but almost running after her, I try to make her understand how disappointed I am about her leaving.
- What kind o help – She asks without turning back.
- Knowing and questioning those who are involved in this. If you could help I'd be grateful – I propose sincerely – I need help, please don't leave me this way. – I insist.
- Who do you want to speak to? Do you hold any suspects? Any other accusations? – God forgives me, I may have made her curious, as much as she has made me?
- Not at all, I am only looking for the truth. But I need to understand some things. – I ask, hoping.
Scullee walks back towards me, she looks at me modestly.
- Not today. We will meet here, tomorrow, at the same time. When everyone else is at the House set to destroy someone else. I will take you to my mother's house. To understand. To know. Today, however, please go to the bay, ask for Melvin Frohikee and Ringed Langly, they will be able to help. – She leaves me, without any further word.
She helped me, with the names of two people, whom I am immediately going to look for.
The reason behind her choice remains obscure, but for the moment it is enough to know where to go, to the bay.
For the moment.
We walk towards different directions.
I turn my face towards her only once, only to catch a glimpse of the back of her neck, uncovered from underneath the dark cap, as she looks down to avoid the sun in her eyes.
The air is now hot, the fog has arrived, announcing the proximity of sunset.
Far away, the waves of the sea keep me compay..
What a weird place, Salem, I say to myself, and my thoughts go beyond the boundaries of the houses:
In the east the Village, made up of farms and fields , The Town in the west, where people fish and trade with the rest of the Americas and of the old world. While dust and stones begin to cover my black leather shoes, I try to imagine what it would feel like to be one of them, and not a foreigner, but then I realize: had I been leaving here, I would have already realized that we are just accusing the women…maybe in a factious way? Could the accusation be sectarian too?
Why are all the alleged witch from the Town, until now, or from the periphery of the community?
The strong smell of freshly fished sea food invades my nostrills, suggesting me even before noticing, that I am quite close to the port.
Some sailors, some fishermen, a boat and the Royal Navy Soldiers governing the biggest ship, the submerged confusion of a port that has to survive.
I step closer to the bench that separates the boats floating on the soft low waves crushing slowly and calmly.
I approach a short man whose eyes appear divergent and whose skin appears to have been marked by too much sun. I ask him if he can help me and I introduce myself. He's sitting by, trying to amend a broken net, on a bunch of dried ropes.
He raises his head and asks with a needle in his hand
- What could a pricker possibly want from Melvin? – he winks at a friend, tall thin and blond, who was adjusting the contents of some baskets, on a boat nearby.
- I was sent here by kate Scullee, she told me…- I try to say, and him, almost smiling replies
- It's okay. I am Melving, and this is Ringed.. Ask whatever you want.. – the smallest man admits, shaking my hand, leaving the ropes to fall besides his feet, as he gets up.
As I open my conversation I explain that I need tools and men to excavate.
They propose themselves as helpers.
- if that's okay for you, when could you come to help? I would need you as guides.. the fact that you are not there…- I point at the tribunal with my finger and they nod at each other.
- Forget that place. We have other things to think about. You decide when.- Frohikee accepts.
- Are you sure that you have all the authorizations you need? If you didn't…it would be the same, we can get to anywhere you want. – the blond one says, after listening to me with a great deal of attention.
- Kate sends him, Ringed, donàt worry. This is all that matters – Frohikee suggests him.
I quickly organize everything with them and go back to my room, to the documents that have been given to me in the morning.
Xxx
Some hours later.
A woman's name, accuses od necromancy, particularly hits me, after a deep reading of the documents.
' Melissa Scullee is accused and suspected of perpetrating witchcraft, against all rules of the Statute, in this case we need to intervene:
In the name of their Majesties, King William and Queen Mary, we will imprison and trial Melissa Scullee; we will keep her in custody until the Law has tried her and judged her..
Salem Village,
May 1st, on the 4th year of our Royal Majesties William and Mary, anno domini 1692'
Parris's study,
05:38 p.m.
- Who are you? – a petite young lady asks me, looking angry with her infinitely
sad blue eyes.
White walls separate us from the Hall, which i occasionally peep into, beyond a
light cotton drape. The hall is made of dark wood. I look at faces, sad looks,
tears, before looking back at my inhospitable guest.
I am rendered speachless by her stubborness and angry attitude.
I clear my throat and introduce myself.
- Was he not happy with the witnesses? He needed a pricker.- she sharply
answers, as soon as I said my name.
- Madame, I do not know how I should address you, as you are here...- i try to
explain but I'm confused, trying to explain to her I still don't know who she
is.
- My name is Kate Scullee, Salem's Scripture Reader. – she finally answers,
lowering her head covered in a black bonnett.
- Are you irish?- I ask, her surname sounds strange to me, I knew some catholics
lived in these colonies, but I did not know they would convert to our faith.
- I am, sir. Protestan, however, sir. I surely do not support the pope!- she
adds proudly.
I realize she holds a libell in her hands.
Incredibly thin hands, I notice.
Her profile is delicate, her nose is proportionate and her red lips show a melancholic twist. Her neck was long and fine.
- Could you tell me why you are here and not in the hall, with your fellow citizens –
I hold my hands behind my back, waiting to find out more.
The distance between us is heightened by the simplistic furniture of the room.
- Those are not my fellow citizens anymore, they are barbarians possessed by the devil- she says with a whisper.
- What do you mean?- she keeps me wondering, with her veiled behavious.
- Nothing, Mr. Moulder, forget that and forgive me, I have been rude. Where you looking for something here? Do you need my help? – she seems to correct her behaviour, without showing to be much convinced by her move.
- Yes, thank you. I would like to see the Reverend's registers. I have been granted access by the deputy Governor. – I add, as if I felt out of place, stepping forward towards the desk.
She steps back, without looking at me.
- I am sure. Here they are – she stretches her arm above the table, handing me some volumes.
With my eyes, I ask for permission to take a seat, and she accepts with a nod, moving away towards the small window, without any curtain, opposite the desk.
I open one of the volumes, the one with births and deaths.
The yellow paper shows me names, dates, sums of money.
Parris is a reverend who's been well treated by his community, apparently.
I go through the sums and consider every single piece of data which may be considered interesting.
Meanwhile, she fits the scarf on her head, her eyes never meeting mine, she goes back to her book.
- Would you like to have a seat?- I ask after some time spent together but always In silence.
I smile at her unwillingly, but I suddently understand I have asked too much.
I castigate myself silently for that.
She looks at me, as if she had not heard me, and leaves the room, without a word.
I try to read those volumes for about half an hour, I look around, and from the small window of the study I see Scullee outside, so I finish off my notes on my notebook and decide to go to her, almost fervent with curiosity.
The cold walls of the study is replaced by the hot atmosphere outside, in the garden, warming me immediately.
I turn my head towards her figure.
She sits on an ash bench, her face looks concentrated on what she is reading, she doesn't realize I am there, walking towards her, without sitting. I respectfully remain distant.
- Please forgive me for what happened before… I have been impudent, please understand I have only just recently come from Boston and…- I begin saying sorry for my despicable behaviour, but she interrupts me immediately.
- Are you all like this in Boston?- she asks, without moving her eyes from the pages she's reading.
Her hands betray her tone of voice, they shake against the leather book cover and the pages.
Her voice, however, does not tremble.
- What do you mean? You mean impertinent? I don't think so...- I reply, shifting the weigh of my body from one foot to another.
She makes me feel restless, this woman is a stranger.
A seagull flies low and distracts our attention with its song.
- I mean so used to be right.- she asks back, she raises her head, looking ahead.
- Please forgive me once again for my impertinent behavior – I realize I might have been a total idiot in making such remarks about her origins and also smiling to her in that indecent manner.
- I don't feel offended. Often you ought to look beyond appearances. – She calmly responds.
- Do it now, then. – I invite.
Her eyes move to me, questioning.
I have just realized how beautiful she is.Simply beautiful.
Some red locks have escaped the cap she is wearing.
- I mean, please allow me the opportunity to explain. I need some help. I don't know anyone around here and you are the only one, it seems to me, that really doesn't like folliwng the trials. – I explain, without irony.
If she behaves so differently and independently from the rest of the community, maybe she could help me with some of the trials.
- It's sad. – she raises her eyes, towards the fields, far away – this village was happy, we used to honour the Lord, work hard the fields He created… now everything has changed. – she finishes bitterly.
- - Please explain to me what has changed. – I attempt to ask
She has made me curious, about why she goes against the collectivity, what else does she hide?
- Sir, with all due respect, do you come from the Moon? You hunt witches, for Heaven's sake! You should have seen one or two…still swinging against the wind up on the hill – her accusation warns me slightly, however I catch a hint of infinite sadness in her voice.
Her expression has hardened.
She suffers.
I worry I might have offended her again.
- Please don't leave now. I really nedd your help. – I propose, but I see her get up and walk towards the wooden fence.
Without touching her, but almost running after her, I try to make her understand how disappointed I am about her leaving.
- What kind o help – She asks without turning back.
- Knowing and questioning those who are involved in this. If you could help I'd be grateful – I propose sincerely – I need help, please don't leave me this way. – I insist.
- Who do you want to speak to? Do you hold any suspects? Any other accusations? – God forgives me, I may have made her curious, as much as she has made me?
- Not at all, I am only looking for the truth. But I need to understand some things. – I ask, hoping.
Scullee walks back towards me, she looks at me modestly.
- Not today. We will meet here, tomorrow, at the same time. When everyone else is at the House set to destroy someone else. I will take you to my mother's house. To understand. To know. Today, however, please go to the bay, ask for Melvin Frohikee and Ringed Langly, they will be able to help. – She leaves me, without any further word.
She helped me, with the names of two people, whom I am immediately going to look for.
The reason behind her choice remains obscure, but for the moment it is enough to know where to go, to the bay.
For the moment.
We walk towards different directions.
I turn my face towards her only once, only to catch a glimpse of the back of her neck, uncovered from underneath the dark cap, as she looks down to avoid the sun in her eyes.
The air is now hot, the fog has arrived, announcing the proximity of sunset.
Far away, the waves of the sea keep me compay..
What a weird place, Salem, I say to myself, and my thoughts go beyond the boundaries of the houses:
In the east the Village, made up of farms and fields , The Town in the west, where people fish and trade with the rest of the Americas and of the old world. While dust and stones begin to cover my black leather shoes, I try to imagine what it would feel like to be one of them, and not a foreigner, but then I realize: had I been leaving here, I would have already realized that we are just accusing the women…maybe in a factious way? Could the accusation be sectarian too?
Why are all the alleged witch from the Town, until now, or from the periphery of the community?
The strong smell of freshly fished sea food invades my nostrills, suggesting me even before noticing, that I am quite close to the port.
Some sailors, some fishermen, a boat and the Royal Navy Soldiers governing the biggest ship, the submerged confusion of a port that has to survive.
I step closer to the bench that separates the boats floating on the soft low waves crushing slowly and calmly.
I approach a short man whose eyes appear divergent and whose skin appears to have been marked by too much sun. I ask him if he can help me and I introduce myself. He's sitting by, trying to amend a broken net, on a bunch of dried ropes.
He raises his head and asks with a needle in his hand
- What could a pricker possibly want from Melvin? – he winks at a friend, tall thin and blond, who was adjusting the contents of some baskets, on a boat nearby.
- I was sent here by kate Scullee, she told me…- I try to say, and him, almost smiling replies
- It's okay. I am Melving, and this is Ringed.. Ask whatever you want.. – the smallest man admits, shaking my hand, leaving the ropes to fall besides his feet, as he gets up.
As I open my conversation I explain that I need tools and men to excavate.
They propose themselves as helpers.
- if that's okay for you, when could you come to help? I would need you as guides.. the fact that you are not there…- I point at the tribunal with my finger and they nod at each other.
- Forget that place. We have other things to think about. You decide when.- Frohikee accepts.
- Are you sure that you have all the authorizations you need? If you didn't…it would be the same, we can get to anywhere you want. – the blond one says, after listening to me with a great deal of attention.
- Kate sends him, Ringed, donàt worry. This is all that matters – Frohikee suggests him.
I quickly organize everything with them and go back to my room, to the documents that have been given to me in the morning.
Xxx
Some hours later.
A woman's name, accuses od necromancy, particularly hits me, after a deep reading of the documents.
' Melissa Scullee is accused and suspected of perpetrating witchcraft, against all rules of the Statute, in this case we need to intervene:
In the name of their Majesties, King William and Queen Mary, we will imprison and trial Melissa Scullee; we will keep her in custody until the Law has tried her and judged her..
Salem Village,
May 1st, on the 4th year of our Royal Majesties William and Mary, anno domini 1692'
X Salem I
Title:X-Salem
Author:Anasilv
Disclaimers: copyright by FOX and CC.
Rating:4all
Genre:AU,case file, little shipper,M&SR
Summary: Massachussets 1692:the witches’s trials
Notes:. The ‘notorius’ names have been intentionally vary,to adapt its at the age.
Thanks:TO ELYSA ,THE GREAT TRASLATOR!!!
2004/2007
Salem,MA
June 1692
08:12 p.m.
House of the Gatherings*
- Now that Saltonstall has given up, do you think we should call up another judge?- William Sthoughton asked in a rough voice, massaging the bridge of his nose, looking up from his documents.
- Deputy Governor…we thought that…maybe it would have been better to contact a pricker* instead…- Peter Segeant attempted, in his nasal voice, knowing very well that at that stage, maybe the presence of an expert could not help them much in deciding the fate of the defendants.
However it would have been a futher guarantee that it was a serious matter, to have an actual expert in witchcraft in Salem.
- Are you thinking of anybody in particular? – the deputy Governor asked him again.
- Yes…I would say so.. Before leaving, Corwin mentioned a name…. It seems that this was a close friend of Cotton Mather's, they must have studied together.. – Seargent rummaged through the documents on the table which had just been approved by the members of the Jury. He reached out, with a reassuring look, to one particular document containing a name.
- Deputy Governor, here is the name…- he raised the yellow piece of paper in a convinced matter, towards the elderly man.
Sthoughton gripped it firmly, and frowning as he was reading, he did believe they had made a good choice, however, the man did not speak out about his beliefs.
- Peter, if all the members of the Jury agree, under the law of the Omnipotent, send a messenger to Boston, with news of the convocation.- he asserted.
- We should really sign it, at least 3 of us as members of the Tribunal…- his shy interlocutor reminded him.
- Fine. Ask John Hathorne, I believe he might still be in the other room.- And with this he stood up. – You will find me in our accommodations. Please do notify me as soon as you have any news.- he spat out the tobacco he had been chewing till breaking its big grains.
The light of the candles, suspended on the hanging lamp, shone upon him and conferred him the sense of authority which was so important to him.
His age and his experience suggested him that this was not going to be easy nor short.
However he knew that they had to be inflexible and ruthless.
Saltonstall's abstention to vote had surely surprised him. It shed doubt upon all the work of the persecution. They could not afford to be weak or insecure, not at that point.
The night was beginning to fall upon the village, he adjusted his hat on the wig, in a protective manner.
He begun to walk towards what was one the tavern, owned exactly by the very first woman who had been condemned to death. After her death, the tavern was given to Samuel Woulters, who had turned it into the headquarters for the members of the Court of the Oyer and Terminer.
Many of them came from Boston, or Arden, and, regardless of the considerate distance with the capital city, they had agreed on settling down there.
Some prisoners would have ended up in Boston, because Salem's prisons were not enough, they would have been properly escorted by the governor's guards. Their number was destined to grow with each prosecution.
Too many prisoners at the bar, too much work for them to postpone it, going back and forth.
Too many accusations, too many young ladies to be saved from the Black Evil.
The silence of the dark and low houses with square and rigid roofs wrapped him.
His mind was filled up once again with Abigail's screams, with the irony in Bishop's look. How much contrast, under the stars that God had created, how much evil, how much discomfort.
It had to be eradicated. And they knew how.
They were the colonizers of these western countries, and nobody, not even Lucifer, could claim them back.
He was ready to do anything in his power to keep on dominate them, in the name of the Puritan Community.
He would have not let a tepid person such as Saltonsall ruin or be an obstacle to his path of purification.
Some days after
10:45 a.m.
I have accepted the task given to me by the Deputy Governor.
I have just left my horse on the road to the tavern, after travelling for sixteen miles, and all I could think was what I was going to face.
I know the Judges are inflexible, but I wonder still, what could be the use of remembering me?
Some of the guilty have already been judged..
Could my work be used for other prosecutions?
I am going to meet wit the members of the Jury to find out what my task is really about.
The village seems naked: The House of the Gatherings, small houses sinisterly allocated around a big empty lay of barren land.
Paths half covered by summer grass.
The young pines try to hide some houses.
The gossips I hear in Boston aren't the best, but I can't base myself on gossips to be right.
The village seems to be deserted, when I pass through it, I think they might all be in the House , waiting for this morning's trial.
The horses were still tied to the carts, with long chains for the prisoners, they had been there before me, but I have not met anyone yet.
Some soldiers are lazying and playing around, I ask them the road to the tavern, where I know the headquarters are.
I look up, beyond the river, at what everyone calls 'the Hill of the witches'.
A simple hill, quite far from any house, which those people have chosen to be the place where the execution takes place.
I am way too far and way too low, but I can see some black pieces of cloths waving with the wind, in the clear and bright light of the morning, amongst the tree tops of the hill.
I knock at the entrance door of what I believe is the cabinet for the meetings of the Court, to what I understand was a separate building from the tavern with an independent entrance.
I am asked to come in. I breathe, filling up my lungs with wet tobacco-smelling air.
Sitting in circle, stand 8 men of different age, at a low table.
The windows are open, a sign that the hot season is about to arrive.
The morning light shines upon their faces, tired and wrinkled, under the white whigs.
Their pride, their power reaches me but I feel immune to it.
In the name of God, they have been chose to assist as judges to this trial, amongst the most resolute and old members of the community, to me however they are still too serious, too rigid, always trying to control us..
In front of their eyes there are papers and documents…
- And you are Foxcroft Moulder, the pricker, I imagine. – one of them says to me quite coldly, sanding up and shaking my hand. – My name is Samuel Sewall, let me introduce you to my colleagues. To your right, William Stoughton, Bartholomew Gedney, Peter Sergeant, Wait Still Winthrop, John Richards, John Hathorne, and Jonathan Corwin. You stand before the oyer. – I stay standing respectfully, as I finish my round of hand shaking.
I could as well not distinguish them from one another, so much they look alike in their expressions, in their gestures.
They look petrified in their white faith.
- We are aware of your preparation, you are friends with Mather Jr – Gedney sighs, moving uncomfortably on his chair..
- Thank you. We studied together in England.- I explain.
- Are you already a priest Mr Moulder? It is our usual procedure, to evaluate your stidy.- Corwin asks, without even looking at me.
-No, sir. And I don't intent to become one..- I know this will not get their sympathy, but I can't help it.
- Your father.. does he still work for the Governor of Boston?- This time it si the Deputy Governor asking.
- Yes, Mr Stoughton, he sends his greetings..-
I have known this man since my youth and I do not trust people my father trusted once upon a time.
I know they are ready to ask me something, so I wait.
- Please sit down.- I accept the invitation by Seargent, taking my seat on a dark oak stool with short round legs.
- We have chosen you for your fame...alongside your studies. We are now in the process of going through with the trial, but if you could help us understand what Satan has done and is still doing with your investigations… for this village has been abandoned by Grace…we would have more elements…- the Deputy Governor explains, looking straight into my eyes.
His straightforwardness, the strength in his eyes, the belief I can read in them, they barely impress me.
- I am here to carry out my duties, gentlemen, I believe my work will be useful to you and to the Omnipotent…- I declare surely.
- You will investigate the events and the circumstances which have emerged from the interrogations, we want a precise picture of the acts of witchcraft which have taken place in Salem…- Stoughton continues, this time with a solemn tone.
His eyes close, almost disappearing amongst the wrinkles in his face.
- You will have a lodging here in Salem, and you will be paid by the Government. Should you need any information on the accused, you can use the lists written by Reverend Parris, and some other documents which have already been gathered… here…- Wnthrop gets up and hands me a folder.
I look at it, for an instant, opening it, the piece of dark cotton that holds the wax flips open, showing the documents of the first trials, already concluded.
I start to under stand that maybe my presence here could not be of any use, however, I want to do something.
While I read, I feel the need of asking for explanations.
- Gentlemen, I will read what you have so trustingly given to me, but I am going to need to know some details… I will have to procede with some territorial and cadastral investigation. – I try to explain
- - Mr Moulder, you can start today! Do confirm to us if in Salem there are witches! Do anything in your power! – Sewall erupts.
Agitation runs as a malevolent breeze amongst us.
I can perceive their hostility, they don't look at me as an ally, only as a dangerous threat to their authority.
To their Truth..
At the same time, me and them…. We both know how much i could help here.
- Calm down, we cannot base ourself only on Mr Moulder's researches, we have a trial to take forward… We have a number of witnesses, so, gentlemen, I am asking to leave his place and to join the Tribunal… Mr Moulder, you will see us at sunset, every two days, starting from today. You can go and consult Parris's documents whenever you want, even today. Feel free to do your research. Contact whoever you wish to in the village and in town. Speak to whoever you want to. – with this guarantee, the Deputy Governor concluses his exposition, which did not explain much more than before.I see them getting up one by one, taking a serious look on their faces and I say my goodbyes with a nod of my head and I move to make some room for them to exit the space one by one, in silence.XxxxSome hours laterON the other side of the village the trials against three more witchescontinued.I have a clear cronology of the events as they occurred in my documents.The very first ritual quoted strikes me immediately, the very one that broughtthe little Parris to the status of ' possessed'.Hours pass and it gets harder for me to read.Bishop, right from the start, declared herself innocent, although se was wearinglace clothing..William Stacey probably needed more than 3 pence for his work.And Reverend Hale accused her of not going to church on sundays.I have a break to eat some of the way too spiced pudding they served me a littlewhile ago.And what about the Shattucks? I wonder again about what they said, for the thirdtime.As for the witchcraft acts against her, still not many are here.Until now at least.The only exception may be the night sightings, all referred to in the documentswhich i'm flipping through, with names and dates I try to stick to my mind.Miss Sheldon is the only one who quotes that Miss Bishop held a Satanic bookwith her, when she appeared to her with other figures, later recognized asCorey and the Black Man.The latter, in the second sighting, brought her a little black pig, whichapparently suckled on a nipple.Elizabeth Balch and Abigain Waldon, instead, accused miss Bishop of profusingspells near the river, of having seen her several times invoking the Devil tosend him to their houses, of being a bad wife as much as being a bad widow.They suspected her, then, even of murdering her husband, God bless him.I call the boy and as him to take me to my room, on the ground floor.We cross the hallway of the tavern, and Rober Woulters looks totallyemotionless.He moves away, giving some space for me to move through the door, to enterfinally the modest room, with a bed, a desk, and a chair.One marmoreal fireplace and some candles on a shelf.As he leaves my baggage on the floor, I ask him- Why have you not gone to see the trials – I undo the buttons of my blackjacket, very much useful as I was riding here, a lot less as I was studyinghere.The window of my room shows a view of the hallway we walked through on the way.Beyond that, on the left I can see the stable where I left my horse.- Sir...the witches would be there, what if they look at me and bewitch me too?My father would lose this place!- he smiles like an idiot.- Please don't forget to bring water to my horse later. Do you know the girls?-I continue, sitting on the bed as he helps me taking off the big boots. – Anyof them went to the same school as you?- i feel relieved as I walk around nowwith my white shirt loose oh my hips, I wash my face and neck in the whitebasin. – bring me some more candles please, I will need them – I can alreadyforsee the long sleepless nights.He scratches his head and pretends to be thinking, as he dropps my shoes on thefloor.- Yes, Sir, I used to follow Rev Parris' lessons with Mary Walcott and AbigailWilliams. They are not witches are they Sir?- he asks frightened.- I don't know, Robert, I really don't. Do you think I'll find anyone in town?I'd like to take a look at the territory aside from concentratin on thedocuments. I'll need men to help me dig, and look for evidence.-- I don't know, Sir, they are all at the House.. Don't worry your horse willneiter suffer from hunger nor thirst!- and he leaves me alone, closing the door behind his back.
Author:Anasilv
Disclaimers: copyright by FOX and CC.
Rating:4all
Genre:AU,case file, little shipper,M&SR
Summary: Massachussets 1692:the witches’s trials
Notes:. The ‘notorius’ names have been intentionally vary,to adapt its at the age.
Thanks:TO ELYSA ,THE GREAT TRASLATOR!!!
2004/2007
Salem,MA
June 1692
08:12 p.m.
House of the Gatherings*
- Now that Saltonstall has given up, do you think we should call up another judge?- William Sthoughton asked in a rough voice, massaging the bridge of his nose, looking up from his documents.
- Deputy Governor…we thought that…maybe it would have been better to contact a pricker* instead…- Peter Segeant attempted, in his nasal voice, knowing very well that at that stage, maybe the presence of an expert could not help them much in deciding the fate of the defendants.
However it would have been a futher guarantee that it was a serious matter, to have an actual expert in witchcraft in Salem.
- Are you thinking of anybody in particular? – the deputy Governor asked him again.
- Yes…I would say so.. Before leaving, Corwin mentioned a name…. It seems that this was a close friend of Cotton Mather's, they must have studied together.. – Seargent rummaged through the documents on the table which had just been approved by the members of the Jury. He reached out, with a reassuring look, to one particular document containing a name.
- Deputy Governor, here is the name…- he raised the yellow piece of paper in a convinced matter, towards the elderly man.
Sthoughton gripped it firmly, and frowning as he was reading, he did believe they had made a good choice, however, the man did not speak out about his beliefs.
- Peter, if all the members of the Jury agree, under the law of the Omnipotent, send a messenger to Boston, with news of the convocation.- he asserted.
- We should really sign it, at least 3 of us as members of the Tribunal…- his shy interlocutor reminded him.
- Fine. Ask John Hathorne, I believe he might still be in the other room.- And with this he stood up. – You will find me in our accommodations. Please do notify me as soon as you have any news.- he spat out the tobacco he had been chewing till breaking its big grains.
The light of the candles, suspended on the hanging lamp, shone upon him and conferred him the sense of authority which was so important to him.
His age and his experience suggested him that this was not going to be easy nor short.
However he knew that they had to be inflexible and ruthless.
Saltonstall's abstention to vote had surely surprised him. It shed doubt upon all the work of the persecution. They could not afford to be weak or insecure, not at that point.
The night was beginning to fall upon the village, he adjusted his hat on the wig, in a protective manner.
He begun to walk towards what was one the tavern, owned exactly by the very first woman who had been condemned to death. After her death, the tavern was given to Samuel Woulters, who had turned it into the headquarters for the members of the Court of the Oyer and Terminer.
Many of them came from Boston, or Arden, and, regardless of the considerate distance with the capital city, they had agreed on settling down there.
Some prisoners would have ended up in Boston, because Salem's prisons were not enough, they would have been properly escorted by the governor's guards. Their number was destined to grow with each prosecution.
Too many prisoners at the bar, too much work for them to postpone it, going back and forth.
Too many accusations, too many young ladies to be saved from the Black Evil.
The silence of the dark and low houses with square and rigid roofs wrapped him.
His mind was filled up once again with Abigail's screams, with the irony in Bishop's look. How much contrast, under the stars that God had created, how much evil, how much discomfort.
It had to be eradicated. And they knew how.
They were the colonizers of these western countries, and nobody, not even Lucifer, could claim them back.
He was ready to do anything in his power to keep on dominate them, in the name of the Puritan Community.
He would have not let a tepid person such as Saltonsall ruin or be an obstacle to his path of purification.
Some days after
10:45 a.m.
I have accepted the task given to me by the Deputy Governor.
I have just left my horse on the road to the tavern, after travelling for sixteen miles, and all I could think was what I was going to face.
I know the Judges are inflexible, but I wonder still, what could be the use of remembering me?
Some of the guilty have already been judged..
Could my work be used for other prosecutions?
I am going to meet wit the members of the Jury to find out what my task is really about.
The village seems naked: The House of the Gatherings, small houses sinisterly allocated around a big empty lay of barren land.
Paths half covered by summer grass.
The young pines try to hide some houses.
The gossips I hear in Boston aren't the best, but I can't base myself on gossips to be right.
The village seems to be deserted, when I pass through it, I think they might all be in the House , waiting for this morning's trial.
The horses were still tied to the carts, with long chains for the prisoners, they had been there before me, but I have not met anyone yet.
Some soldiers are lazying and playing around, I ask them the road to the tavern, where I know the headquarters are.
I look up, beyond the river, at what everyone calls 'the Hill of the witches'.
A simple hill, quite far from any house, which those people have chosen to be the place where the execution takes place.
I am way too far and way too low, but I can see some black pieces of cloths waving with the wind, in the clear and bright light of the morning, amongst the tree tops of the hill.
I knock at the entrance door of what I believe is the cabinet for the meetings of the Court, to what I understand was a separate building from the tavern with an independent entrance.
I am asked to come in. I breathe, filling up my lungs with wet tobacco-smelling air.
Sitting in circle, stand 8 men of different age, at a low table.
The windows are open, a sign that the hot season is about to arrive.
The morning light shines upon their faces, tired and wrinkled, under the white whigs.
Their pride, their power reaches me but I feel immune to it.
In the name of God, they have been chose to assist as judges to this trial, amongst the most resolute and old members of the community, to me however they are still too serious, too rigid, always trying to control us..
In front of their eyes there are papers and documents…
- And you are Foxcroft Moulder, the pricker, I imagine. – one of them says to me quite coldly, sanding up and shaking my hand. – My name is Samuel Sewall, let me introduce you to my colleagues. To your right, William Stoughton, Bartholomew Gedney, Peter Sergeant, Wait Still Winthrop, John Richards, John Hathorne, and Jonathan Corwin. You stand before the oyer. – I stay standing respectfully, as I finish my round of hand shaking.
I could as well not distinguish them from one another, so much they look alike in their expressions, in their gestures.
They look petrified in their white faith.
- We are aware of your preparation, you are friends with Mather Jr – Gedney sighs, moving uncomfortably on his chair..
- Thank you. We studied together in England.- I explain.
- Are you already a priest Mr Moulder? It is our usual procedure, to evaluate your stidy.- Corwin asks, without even looking at me.
-No, sir. And I don't intent to become one..- I know this will not get their sympathy, but I can't help it.
- Your father.. does he still work for the Governor of Boston?- This time it si the Deputy Governor asking.
- Yes, Mr Stoughton, he sends his greetings..-
I have known this man since my youth and I do not trust people my father trusted once upon a time.
I know they are ready to ask me something, so I wait.
- Please sit down.- I accept the invitation by Seargent, taking my seat on a dark oak stool with short round legs.
- We have chosen you for your fame...alongside your studies. We are now in the process of going through with the trial, but if you could help us understand what Satan has done and is still doing with your investigations… for this village has been abandoned by Grace…we would have more elements…- the Deputy Governor explains, looking straight into my eyes.
His straightforwardness, the strength in his eyes, the belief I can read in them, they barely impress me.
- I am here to carry out my duties, gentlemen, I believe my work will be useful to you and to the Omnipotent…- I declare surely.
- You will investigate the events and the circumstances which have emerged from the interrogations, we want a precise picture of the acts of witchcraft which have taken place in Salem…- Stoughton continues, this time with a solemn tone.
His eyes close, almost disappearing amongst the wrinkles in his face.
- You will have a lodging here in Salem, and you will be paid by the Government. Should you need any information on the accused, you can use the lists written by Reverend Parris, and some other documents which have already been gathered… here…- Wnthrop gets up and hands me a folder.
I look at it, for an instant, opening it, the piece of dark cotton that holds the wax flips open, showing the documents of the first trials, already concluded.
I start to under stand that maybe my presence here could not be of any use, however, I want to do something.
While I read, I feel the need of asking for explanations.
- Gentlemen, I will read what you have so trustingly given to me, but I am going to need to know some details… I will have to procede with some territorial and cadastral investigation. – I try to explain
- - Mr Moulder, you can start today! Do confirm to us if in Salem there are witches! Do anything in your power! – Sewall erupts.
Agitation runs as a malevolent breeze amongst us.
I can perceive their hostility, they don't look at me as an ally, only as a dangerous threat to their authority.
To their Truth..
At the same time, me and them…. We both know how much i could help here.
- Calm down, we cannot base ourself only on Mr Moulder's researches, we have a trial to take forward… We have a number of witnesses, so, gentlemen, I am asking to leave his place and to join the Tribunal… Mr Moulder, you will see us at sunset, every two days, starting from today. You can go and consult Parris's documents whenever you want, even today. Feel free to do your research. Contact whoever you wish to in the village and in town. Speak to whoever you want to. – with this guarantee, the Deputy Governor concluses his exposition, which did not explain much more than before.I see them getting up one by one, taking a serious look on their faces and I say my goodbyes with a nod of my head and I move to make some room for them to exit the space one by one, in silence.XxxxSome hours laterON the other side of the village the trials against three more witchescontinued.I have a clear cronology of the events as they occurred in my documents.The very first ritual quoted strikes me immediately, the very one that broughtthe little Parris to the status of ' possessed'.Hours pass and it gets harder for me to read.Bishop, right from the start, declared herself innocent, although se was wearinglace clothing..William Stacey probably needed more than 3 pence for his work.And Reverend Hale accused her of not going to church on sundays.I have a break to eat some of the way too spiced pudding they served me a littlewhile ago.And what about the Shattucks? I wonder again about what they said, for the thirdtime.As for the witchcraft acts against her, still not many are here.Until now at least.The only exception may be the night sightings, all referred to in the documentswhich i'm flipping through, with names and dates I try to stick to my mind.Miss Sheldon is the only one who quotes that Miss Bishop held a Satanic bookwith her, when she appeared to her with other figures, later recognized asCorey and the Black Man.The latter, in the second sighting, brought her a little black pig, whichapparently suckled on a nipple.Elizabeth Balch and Abigain Waldon, instead, accused miss Bishop of profusingspells near the river, of having seen her several times invoking the Devil tosend him to their houses, of being a bad wife as much as being a bad widow.They suspected her, then, even of murdering her husband, God bless him.I call the boy and as him to take me to my room, on the ground floor.We cross the hallway of the tavern, and Rober Woulters looks totallyemotionless.He moves away, giving some space for me to move through the door, to enterfinally the modest room, with a bed, a desk, and a chair.One marmoreal fireplace and some candles on a shelf.As he leaves my baggage on the floor, I ask him- Why have you not gone to see the trials – I undo the buttons of my blackjacket, very much useful as I was riding here, a lot less as I was studyinghere.The window of my room shows a view of the hallway we walked through on the way.Beyond that, on the left I can see the stable where I left my horse.- Sir...the witches would be there, what if they look at me and bewitch me too?My father would lose this place!- he smiles like an idiot.- Please don't forget to bring water to my horse later. Do you know the girls?-I continue, sitting on the bed as he helps me taking off the big boots. – Anyof them went to the same school as you?- i feel relieved as I walk around nowwith my white shirt loose oh my hips, I wash my face and neck in the whitebasin. – bring me some more candles please, I will need them – I can alreadyforsee the long sleepless nights.He scratches his head and pretends to be thinking, as he dropps my shoes on thefloor.- Yes, Sir, I used to follow Rev Parris' lessons with Mary Walcott and AbigailWilliams. They are not witches are they Sir?- he asks frightened.- I don't know, Robert, I really don't. Do you think I'll find anyone in town?I'd like to take a look at the territory aside from concentratin on thedocuments. I'll need men to help me dig, and look for evidence.-- I don't know, Sir, they are all at the House.. Don't worry your horse willneiter suffer from hunger nor thirst!- and he leaves me alone, closing the door behind his back.
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