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He reined in his horse at once and dismounted. “Sit there - ” he said indicating a fallen tree trunk, at a little distance from the horses. A trifle surprised, Elizabeth obeyed, and began to unfasten her bodice, when her uncle walked over and stood beside her in a preoccupied manner. “You think me lacking in pity or lenity,” he said abruptly, scowling down at the rich, dark earth.

Elizabeth, more astonished, saw that while she had been able to forget their disagreement in gazing at the wildflowers, Winthrop must have been brooding over her unspoken criticism. “I would not presume to judge you, sir,” she said, covering her breast with her kerchief as the baby began to nurse.

“There were some Indians came to my house for succour last week,” he said. “I took them in. They died except for one boy child, whom I’ve named Know-God and shall keep as servant and raise a Christian.”

“Everyone knows you to be charitable,” she murmured, amazed that he should bother to explain himself to her.

“I thought so,” he said. “I’ve beggared my own fortune and most of my son John’s for the public weal, end yet they
dare
to call me to account as though I had embezzled colony funds!”

“Call you to account?” she repeated, and saw that after all he was not really talking to her; it was but the boiling over of his long-pent wrath.

“I’d not give the purblind knaves their accounting - why should I? When God set me over
than,
to rule them, an honour I had never searched - except that- - ” His nostrils dilated, his round eyes hardened like agates in their bony sockets.

“This commonwealth is founded by our Blessed Lord,” he cried with passion. “It
must
succeed! No enemies within or without, no jealousies, no factions, not even righteous indignation, must be allowed to interfere with God’s plan for His Elected Saints!” His voice trembled, and with awe she saw the tears start to his eyes. “We are but four thousand people yet, like the Israelites, and pressed like them from all sides - Sir Ferdinando Gorges’s hirelings and New France on the north, across the sea our persecutors in England; to the south beyond the Dutch a Papist place called Maryland has been established. The west has cannibalistic Mohawks. Beset like this from every quarter, what hope have we but to stand close together in ourselves - with amity?”

He has been suffering, she thought, astonished; in that nature which she felt to be harsh and bigoted, there was yet a burning ideal, and a desire so great for the welfare of the land he had founded that he would sacrifice his pride to it.

He raised his head and gazed across the little pond towards a distant hill. “Would that like Moses I might hear the direct Voice of God on Sinai. ..” he said beneath his breath. “And yet have I not, like all of the elect among us, had sign of God’s special favour? If He were not pleased with our inheriting these parts, why does He drive out the natives and diminish them as we increase? Why hath He planted His true Church here, and declared His presence among us by the saving of many souls? - Ah,
this
I shall say to Mr. Williams at Salem tomorrow.”

He turned and walked away from her, clasping his hands behind his back. So Roger Williams had been fulminating against the colony again, thought Elizabeth, enlightened as to the particular reason for her uncle’s explosion. Even in Watertown they heard often about the firebrand of a preacher who had returned to Salem on sufferance, but would not be stilled. He constantly disturbed the people with his doubts - of their exclusive sainthood, of the infallibility of ministers and magistrates, and of their moral title to Indian lands. And, thought Elizabeth suddenly, I think this Williams is
right!
The conclusion dismayed her for its disloyalty to the Winthrops. She sighed heavily, glimpsing conflicting values which seemed to threaten all the structure of her life.

Then the baby grunted and fell back replete. Elizabeth kissed Lisbet’s silvery curls, fastened her bodice, and breathed deep of the soft shimmering air. The sun was warm on her shoulders, but a little breeze quivered through the leaves and made ripples on the blue pond. She saw a scarlet bird streak by and wondered what it was, but a chattering blue jay she recognized. Pale pink flowers like stars were struggling towards the light from under the log she sat on. She leaned over and freed them from grass and choking bark, then, without picking it, cupped one in her hand. In
these
things are my content, she thought with immediate guilt. Surely content should not come from the beauty of a tiny flower, but from religious conviction, and the certainty of righteousness.

They continued on the trail, which widened and became a lane as they approached Saugus. Winthrop, his dark mood relieved, presently fell back beside his niece and spoke of family matters. He said he hoped Elizabeth would return in time for Margaret’s confinement, but he was not unduly alarmed about it since there was now an excellent midwife in Boston - Mrs. Hawkins. He told her news of little Deane, still at school in England, and of the Downings, who were at last seriously preparing to come over, though, said Winthrop, his sister Lucy was much afflicted with ague and eye trouble, and dreaded the voyage. When they entered Saugus, he mentioned its nearby deposits of bog-iron ore, adding with the pride in which he always spoke of Jack, “Son John thinks to found an ironworks here, for he understands such things, and it would be a carvel for us to dispense with importing costly English implements.”

Elizabeth politely agreed, and they drew up before the largest house in the village, which belonged to Nathaniel Turner. Here Winthrop was to spend the night before going on to Salem to see Endecott and the rebellious Roger Williams,

At the Turners’ there was a rearrangement Winthrop retained Tom, since it was unthinkable for the former Governor to travel without a manservant, and Mr. Turner lent Elizabeth his stalwart young son for escort. Also another horse, that she might make the remaining miles to Ipswich in safety before dusk.

“God preserve you, my dear,” said Winthrop, kissing her gravely on the forehead. “Have no fear of wolves or other wild beasts, they are menacing only at night, and besides you see Mr. Turner’s lad is well armed.”

Sally unfortunately heard this, and letting out a shriek, plumped herself down on the Turners’ floor, and refused to budge. “Oi’ll not go further, thot Oi’ll not I Ye can do wot ye loike, Oi’ll not go on amidst the Indian pox, nor gi’ meself fur mincemeat to wolveses!”

“You shall certainly be flogged if you’re a disobedient servant,” Winthrop said. “Get up and accompany your mistress at once!”

Sally shook her head and drumming her heels on the boards yelped hysterically. Whereupon, Mrs. Turner, brawny ruler of a well-disciplined household, came rushing up and glared at the culprit “Lack-a-day - ” she said to Elizabeth. “ ‘Tis a snotty-nosed wench ye have there, Mistress Feake! Since ye’ve the babe in your arms, I’ll mend her ways for you.” The goodwife boxed Sally hard on the ears, then, picking up the hearth broom, belaboured the girl across the back and shoulders. Elizabeth had slapped Sally once or twice under great provocation, and sometimes spanked Joan, but her own childhood memory prevented her from beating either, and she made a sound of remonstrance now.

The effect on Sally however was certainly salutary. She jumped up, crying, “Oi’ll go, Oi’ll go - ” and running to Elizabeth moaned for forgiveness.

“Ye seer” said Mrs. Turner complacently, “Cut a limber stick when ye’re on the way, switch her well wi’ it, if she try more tricks.”

Sally’s revolt was over. Snivelling, she mounted pillion behind young Turner and rode off on an Indian trail to the north. They continued without further incident. The sun was low behind the western hills when they saw chimney smoke. The sky darkened, and the wind began to blow, whistling through a stand of hemlocks. The air suddenly smelled of storm. As they passed the first cabin of this desolate frontier hamlet a dog somewhere howled mournfully, and Elizabeth shivered. They followed the sharply curving river bank and the ford. The water looked black and sinister, bordered as it was with great rocks and overhanging pines. In the eerie yellow gloaming the handful of little houses seemed to huddle anxiously, with their backs pressed against the bleak ridge of a stony hill. The wind puffed harder and dust swirled around them, stinging their eyes and making the horses snort.

“Is that the meetinghouse?” Elizabeth asked young Turner, more to hear a voice than because she doubted the identity of the only large building in sight, a great raw boxy structure flanked by stocks and whipping post.

“Aye,” said young Turner, “and someone’s got wolf bounty, I see.” He pointed to three bleeding wolf heads nailed to the church door. “Ten shillings a head they fetch up here I”

They continued, walking slowly, near the river. “Yon - ” said the lad, pointing again, “is young Mr. Wintrup’s.”

It wasn’t a bad house considering, thought Elizabeth. And the outhouses looked adequate. It was but the owl-light of coming storm made everything seem so melancholy, and it would be a sorry thing if she gave way to dumpish fancies when Martha needed cheering.

Fat raindrops began to fall as they knocked. There was an uproar of deep barks and growls from three Irish wolfhounds Jack had imported and kept chained in a shed. The door was flung open by Jack with a hearty “Welcome! Welcome, Bess!” They kissed briefly because it would have looked strange if they hadn’t, and entered the front room which was lighted by many rush dips and the fire. Martha sat shivering on a stool by the hearth, a linen kerchief pressed to her mouth. She got up slowly as her sister entered. “I thought you wouldn’t come - ” she said, holding out her arms. “Oh, Bess, I didn’t believe you’d come, way up here.”

Elizabeth put down the baby and running caught her sister close to her, feeling with dismay the frailness of the little body; and seeing as Martha’s handkerchief dropped to the floor that it was covered with bloodstains.

“I told you Bess’d be here today,” said Jack, pouring beer for them all.
“Now,
my dearest Matt, you’ll have good care and cheer up and be quite well again I”

“I will, I will,” said Martha, her large sunken eyes turning trustfully towards her husband. She began to choke. A spasm of coughing racked her and she sank down on the stool, grabbing the handkerchief.

“You’ll know some simple that’ll cure the cough,” said Jack to Elizabeth with assurance. ‘Tis just a lingering cold she caught in March; the house was chill before we got all the chinks properly daubed.”

Chill indeed, Elizabeth thought, for the walls were not yet tight and draughts blew through the room. She turned and looked at Martha, who had stopped coughing and lay back exhausted with her head against the rough fieldstone chimneypiece. Elizabeth saw the hectic red spots on the girl’s cheekbones, the blue veins showing through transparent skin at the hollow temples. She saw that the little hands had shrunken like birds’ claws. She heard the shallow, rapid breathing and saw in the dark eyes a look of dumb suffering. There had been someone else like this long ago, a memory which brought sharp, sad fear before it crystallized. Then Elizabeth knew it was a memory of their mother.

“We must make cheer for you, Bess,” said Jack. “I’ve asked some neighbours. My men caught four great lobsters today, we’ve wild fowl too, and had a piglet slaughtered. After supper, let’s have music! Alack that you’ve not your old lute, but we can remember a ballad or two, no doubt!” She could not answer, and he went on with pride. “Our child, the new Winthrop, must be a godly little soul, of course, but we would have it merry too at times, wouldn’t we, Matt?”

Doesn’t he know? Elizabeth thought. Could he really be so blind to Martha’s condition - and saw that he was. Though Jack had much medical interest, and more knowledge of chirurgery than she had yet accustomed as he was to Martha’s puniness, and having no sudden shock to face as Elizabeth had, no forebodings yet clouded his optimism. He leaned in fact to the usual masculine assumption that a baby would solve everything, and was happy that Martha was at last fulfilling her proper function.

“By all means, let us make merry - ” said Elizabeth at last, trying to smile, “but I think Martha should lie down.”

“Oh, don’t send me upstairs, Bess,” said the girl piteously. “I’m alone so much.”

“No, darling,” said Elizabeth, “You shall stay here. Surely there’s a truckle bed we can set up?”

There was, and Elizabeth made her sister comfortable in the corner of the parlour, propped on pillows and well wrapped in blankets.

Jack had naturally invited the spiritual leader of Ipswich, the Reverend Nathaniel Ward, who arrived promptly, cast a pleased eye at the feast the servants were spreading on the table, and settled himself in Jack’s own walnut armchair as a matter of right He was a quite elderly widower, and a man of the world, having travelled and studied law in England for many years before taking Orders. Behind square spectacles he had shrewd eyes, and a sharp tongue when one of his several strong prejudices was aroused, as the company presently discovered.

Beside the Turner lad, the other guests were Mr. William Clarke, a young man who acted as steward for Jack in his absences, and an erstwhile Suffolk yeoman, John Gage, with his goodwife Amy, who was the only woman, except for servants, as yet to join the score or so of men at the new plantation.

Mr. Ward greeted Elizabeth with pleasant courtesy, and, drawing his chair over to the truckle bed, expressed concern for Martha’s health and quoted comforting verses from the Psalms. But after he had asked the blessing and everyone was happily spooning food from the great pewter platters on to individual wooden trenchers, he turned his ironic gaze on Amy Gage. The goodwife was young and comely, her apple cheeks still retained their English bloom, her hair was glossy as a chestnut, and - overawed by the grandeur of her invitation to the Winthrop home - she had dressed herself in the bridal finery with which her prosperous father had once furnished her. This included silver earrings, a lace head veil, and a yellow gown with enormous slashed sleeves. Also several cherry-coloured bows and a green taffeta petticoat of which she was very proud.