Witch Child (8 page)

‘How does Master Morse?’ Deborah asked. She kept her face perfectly straight, but there was a gleam deep in her brown eyes and her question pitched the others into fits of giggles.

‘Older or younger?’ Rebekah enquired, although she knew well which one Deborah meant.

‘Younger, of course, you goose!’ Hannah exclaimed in a fresh explosion of giggles, this time at Rebekah’s expense.

Rebekah’s jaw tightened. She did not like being taken for a fool by one with less sense than a chicken.

‘He does well enough.’

‘Not with you today?’

‘He has other business. With my father.’

This brought fresh snorts of laughter.

‘His father, too. They look to our future –’

‘Together?’ Deborah enquired with a smile. The other girls could hardly contain themselves. Rebekah fought to seem indifferent, but her pale skin began to colour in the face of Deborah’s insolence.

She has said nothing to me of the matter, but an understanding is developing between her and Tobias. Nothing as clear as courtship; it is still at the stage of looks and smiles, but of late the two of them have been much together. That has not been lost on Deborah and the others. Deborah’s smile thinned and one glance from her quelled the other girls. The gleam in her brown eyes had hardened to something else. Tobias would make a good husband for anyone. He is handsome and well-set, a strong young man and a carpenter, a skill highly prized in a world built of wood. Rebekah has a rival.

Suddenly Hannah shrieked and started back, clutching harder on Deborah’s arm.

‘What is it?’ Deborah tried to shake off the younger girl but her grip tightened. ‘What is the matter?’

‘Look! Look yonder!’

Hannah pointed a wavering finger into the crowd. The other girls followed the direction of her stare, their own eyes widening, pupils dilating as if something wild and dangerous had left the forest to stand right in front of them. Others were looking also, many drawing back with a hissing intake of breath.

The crowd fell away on either side as two of the native people came walking through the market. Settlers paid them no mind, as if their presence were an everyday occurrence, but those new off the ships stared in awe and wonder.

‘Savages!’ Hannah shrieked. ‘They’ll kill us where we stand!’

Deborah squealed like a silly young sow, an animal she resembles not a little, and clapped her hand on mouth. Elizabeth and Sarah clung to each other, dumbstruck with terror.

‘They will not harm you!’ Rebekah rapped out, her hazel eyes dark with contempt. ‘Hush! They’ll hear you!’

If they did, they showed no sign of it. They were bare-chested and bare-legged, save for soft skin leggings fringed to the knees. They were not wearing trousers or breeches, but short leather aprons hanging fore and aft from a narrow beaded belt; perhaps this is what caused Deborah to squeal. They were shod in soft leather bound with thongs and each wore a sleeveless open vest made of skins. The boy’s was faced by what looked like quills, dyed in bright colours, red and blue, and arranged in chevron patterns. Their clothes were scant, but practical. They do not sweat in the heat like the Englishmen.

They were both tall and well-knit, clean-shaven, handsome-looking men with striking features. They favoured each other enough to be related, although one was much older than the other, perhaps grandson and grandfather. They are dark-complexioned but their skin has no redness to it, despite what white men call them. Rather it is the deep brown of well polished wood and speaks of a life spent out of doors, little encumbered by clothes. Their hair fell long, past their shoulders; the young man’s shining black with a green blue sheen. He wore it loose and shaved on one side. The old man’s hair was greying with a distinctive wide white streak growing from the side of a deep widow’s peak. He wore his hair long also, braided back in a thick plait with feathers and beads worked into it.

As they moved though the crowd, the people around them fell hushed and silent. They walked in a pocket of stillness and it was difficult not to stare. Jonah has told me about the Rarities he has seen. Curiosities, strange and precious things brought from all over the world for people to look at and marvel. It was as if an exhibit from Mr Tradescant’s collection displayed in the Ark in Lambeth had suddenly come alive and begun to walk about.

I did not squeal like Deborah or hold on to Rebekah but, like the rest, I could not help staring at them. They moved with silent grace and as they passed I caught the clean scent of pine needles and woodsmoke, quite different from the rank stench of sour sweat, of bodies too long in unwashed clothes, which clung to my fellows.

The young man stared straight ahead, not looking to right or left. The old man surveyed those on either side, but his gaze was incurious, as if the crowd was made up of inanimate things, or creatures beneath his interest. His eyes were set deep, dark as damsons, in a face criss-crossed with lines, heavily creased at nose and mouth. His glance flickered to a halt; suddenly his eyes were alert, piercing and sharp. His gaze held mine for a fraction of time, then shifted on, ranging over the crowd again, distant, indifferent, as if he could see right through them.

Entry 31

Rebekah’s father is concerned. We have been a week in Salem and nothing is decided. We cannot delay much longer, not if we are to build shelters before winter. It is already too late for planting. He is going to the Meeting House this evening to talk with the other Elders. He means to tell them his thoughts on the matter. If we are to go, it must be now. We could stay here, although most of the good land hereabouts is taken, and Jonah is of the opinion that the townspeople are anxious for us to move on.

Widow Hesketh squinted at Martha. ‘You’re a useful body and I’ll own you’ve been a help to me.’ She paused. ‘It’s not my business, of course, and I dare say you’ll be ruled by kin and conscience, but you have a place with me. The girl, too.’ She nodded in my direction and looked back at Martha. Her hooded eyes were dark and unreadable, like the old Indian’s. I felt a message pass between the two women without a word being spoken. ‘Girl her age can always make herself useful. You say she’s a good needlewoman?’ Martha nodded. ‘Town’s growing, folk need clothes.’ Widow Hesketh cackled mirthlessly. ‘Some’s even getting back a taste for finery. No shortage of cloth coming in on the ships. You could make yourself a nice little business.’

‘It’s worth considering, I’ll own that.’ Martha looked down at the pieces she was seaming. ‘A life already set, as opposed to one to be carved from the wilderness.’

I looked at Martha in surprise, she’d never expressed that opinion before.

‘But they are my people,’ Martha snapped the thread with her teeth and started on a piece of darning. ‘And I look to join kin, by blood and marriage. We’ve come this far on the Lord’s path together, now’s not the time for me to fall by the wayside.’

Widow Hesketh greeted Martha’s decision with a slight nod of the head. ‘May God be with you, then. It will be a long journey, and a hard one.’ She shivered a little even though the night was hot and the fire was roaring before us. ‘Not one I’d take, neither.’

‘Why’s that, Mistress Hesketh?’ I had moved my stool to the far side of Martha’s settle, to get away from the heat of the fire, now I moved it nearer in.

‘There are precious few roads, m’dear, and them that’s laid don’t advance you far into the forest. It’ll be not much more than animal tracks you’ll be following, and paths made by savages. The forest is no place for a God-fearing person. They do say ... ’

‘Do say what?’ I asked.

‘That there’s spirits in there. In particular, a black spirit in the shape of a man. The Indians worship him ... ’ She shivered again, drawing her shawl round her. ‘Nonsense, no doubt, but there’s some swears they have seen it, and folk don’t like to get caught in the forest. There’s beasts o’ course, and savages, but that’s not what afears them when the sun goes down. That’s not what has them spurring for home fast as a horse can gallop.’ She leaned forward to stir the pot over the fire. ‘It’ll be a hard journey and you’ll get little help from the folk of Salem.’

‘Because they’re afraid of boggarts?’

She gave her bark of a laugh again. ‘Not entirely. There’s another reason. The Reverend Johnson and his crowd, they left here under a cloud. It weren’t because of lack of land, there was plenty and to spare round here then. No,’ she shook her head. ‘It weren’t because of that.’

‘Why was it, then?’ I asked.

‘They were encouraged to depart, so you might say. The Reverend Johnson himself is a very difficult man. Almost as soon as he arrived he began disputing with the other ministers. A good preacher, but argumentative, troublesome; stiff-necked and arrogant, that’s what they called him, inclined to put his beliefs above all others, and that’s not Salem’s way. Thought too much of himself, that’s what they said, almost to the point of blasphemy.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘There’s a sight of difference between preaching the words of the prophets, and thinking you are one. He behaved like a prophet new come, and his Congregation hailed him. That was too much for the other ministers. They declared his beliefs dangerous, accused him of falling into error and taking his people with him. Repent or go, that’s what they said. So he upped and left, taking all his flock off into the wilderness, driving their beasts before them, just like the Israelites.’

‘Where did they go?’

‘He chose paths untrod. Ways unknown. Trusting that God would guide ’em where they wanted to go.’

‘But they settled somewhere, surely?’

‘They founded a settlement deep in the wilderness and we’ve scarce heard from them since. They rarely come here. Now you arrive, bent on joining them.’ She turned troubled eyes to Martha. ‘Truly, Mistress, I caution you against it.’

Entry 32

We are all called to the Meeting House. The whole Congregation and anyone who might have a mind to join them, like myself, Jonah and Tobias. We will be asked to choose whether we wish to stay or go. Martha will go, the Rivers too, but I’m not sure about Jonah and Tobias. Jonah likes it here. He wanders the town and the docks, exchanging gossip with townspeople and sailors, swapping news and gleaning information. He is even doing a little business, selling his pills and potions. I have heard him speak his doubts to his son.

‘What do you know of farming? Or I, for that matter? You a carpenter, me an apothecary? We could make a good living, right here in Salem. Or try our luck in another town – Boston, maybe. I’ve heard it thrives –’

‘They are good people.’

‘Good people? Aye. With the zeal of the Lord in their eyes. And what of these others they go to join? We know nothing of them. We are strangers. They may not welcome us. Would it be wise to join them? What do you say? Do we go? Or should we stay?’

Tobias did not reply. He just stretched his long legs before him and drank his ale.

Entry 33

Two men stood at the door as tellers: Deborah’s father, Jeremiah Vane, and her uncle, Samuel Denning. We filed in and took our places, strictly according to rank. Elias Cornwell stared down from the pulpit. There was to be no discussion. The Reverend Cornwell did not even sermonise, he merely bid us bow our heads, instructing each to pray in silence, to humble ourselves before the Lord and ask for His guidance. The time had come to decide: to stay here, to go elsewhere and join one of the other towns springing up, or to follow Reverend Johnson’s lead into the wilderness. The Elders had already decided. They were all in a row at the front, John Rivers among them.

One by one, the head of each family moved from his place to join them. Then Sarah, Rebekah’s mother, moved to her husband’s side, leading her children by the hand, Rebekah following, carrying baby Noah in her arms. Although I share some of Jonah’s doubts, when Martha went, I went with her.

The families ranged round the sides of the room, leaving just the outsiders sitting down. Jonah bowed his head deeper, whispering to Tobias out of the side of his mouth. His son shook his head, as if to rid himself from flies, straightened his shoulders and stepped forward to join the others, taking Jonah with him. Rebekah watched Tobias walk to his place. Across the room, Hannah leered up at her sister and Deborah scowled. I looked over at them and smiled. Where
she
goes,
he
will follow.

Entry 34

Tonight, after supper, Widow Hesketh bid me sit with her.

‘I got a bit of mending wants doing. See what kind of needlewoman you are.’

She sat in her usual place by the fire with me on a stool next to her and a bag full of stockings to darn and shirts to patch. She inspected my work, looking for strength and smallness of stitch. Once satisfied, she bid me carry on while she stared into the fire.

‘You are welcome to stay along a’ me,’ she said after a time. ‘There’s a place here for a girl that’s prepared to make herself useful.’

I looked up in surprise, a little taken aback. I did not answer straight away, but carried on with my work, concentrating on keeping the stitches neat and regular. Then I thanked her politely and declined her offer. I might share some of Jonah’s fears about what lies ahead, but to stay would mean becoming little more than a servant and I do not relish that prospect.

‘Think on it.’ Her hooded eyes sought the fire’s depths. ‘I know a little of your history from Martha, and I can guess the rest. You might be safer here. I think you guess my meaning.’