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.