Hour of the Witch(111)

Now the old fellow stood before the bench and spoke his oath.

“I thank thee for testifying,” said Adams. “We know how busy thou art.”

“Less busy this time of year than at others.”

“Indeed,” agreed the magistrate. “Tell us: hast thou ever imported the Devil’s tines?”

“I have not. But, if I am going to be scrupulously honest, I do not see them as an instrument of the Dark One. I see them as forks. And as this court knows, I have good friends who have imported them,” Hill said, and he nodded in a kindly fashion at her father. Her father stared down at the floorboards.

    “Be that as it may, art thou comfortable admitting that people who have been seduced by Satan might impart to them a greater, more insidious use?”

“I would, but principally because the Devil is nefarious and can make evil a child’s plaything if He wants.”

“Very well. Thou knowest Mary Deerfield, correct?”

“Since she arrived in Boston, yes.”

“What is her relationship with thy nephew, Henry Simmons?”

“As this court learned during Mary’s divorce petition, he tried once to kiss her.”

“It sounds as if thou dost not approve.”

“I do not condone adultery.”

“Of course not,” said Adams. “Have the two of them seen each other since then—other than in this Town House during her divorce petition?”

“I do not know.”

“But Mary has been to thy warehouse, where he works, and one time asked thee where to find him. True?”

“Yes. But she explained it was to forgive him for his transgressions. I never asked her or my nephew if she found him.”

“She has been often to the wharves. Is this not correct?”

“It is.”

“Her father’s warehouse is there, too,” Wilder observed. “Let us not forget that. I know that she has visited the harbor often throughout her entire adult life.”

“Point noted, Richard,” said Adams. He leaned in a little toward Valentine Hill and asked, “Is Mary resourceful in thine opinion? Headstrong?”

“She is a woman who knows her mind.”

“When she was not granted her petition for divorce, was she likely to take our ‘no’ as the final word?”

“What art thou suggesting?”

“Thou heard what Catherine Stileman said this morning: Mary Deerfield made a pact with the Devil to put a spell on Thomas Deerfield that would kill him, and thus free herself from her marriage to the man. We do not need thee to corroborate that—”

    “I don’t think I could,” said Hill. “Mary is headstrong, but she is not a murderess.”

“But,” Adams continued, as if he had not been interrupted, “we would like to know if thou believest—before all of us and thy Lord and Savior—whether thy nephew ever again tried to lead Mary away from her marriage.”

Reluctantly Hill said, shaking his head, “He may have. He, too, is rather headstrong.”

“And it is this that may have given Mary the hope that she could have a life with him, once she was freed from her marriage.”

Hill said nothing more. There really was nothing more for him to say.



* * *





“Have they arrived?” Caleb Adams asked the captain of the guard. “That woman from the Neck and Goody Howland?”

“They are downstairs,” he replied. “I can retrieve them.”

“Please do. Let’s start with the one from the Neck,” said Adams.

“Poor Constance,” Mary whispered into Benjamin Hull’s ear. “I feel bad that she has been dragged into this.”

The scrivener nodded. A moment later they heard two sets of boots on the stairs, and there she was: Mary’s tall friend about whom swirled all manner of gossip and innuendo. Constance smiled at her, and Mary felt an unexpected rush of confidence. The court would not have summoned Constance if they did not believe she could corroborate the charges of witchcraft—this bench was far from neutral—but Mary knew that the older woman was as smart as any of the men aligned against her.

Adams quickly established why she had been brought to the Town House, and the severity of the charges. Then he asked, “Why did Mary Deerfield seek thee out?”

“She wanted tea,” said Constance.

Adams repeated his question, beginning this time with an admonishment: “Remember thou hast been sworn in and the reason why thou art here: why did Mary Deerfield meet with thee?”

    “I answered thy question: we had tea.”

“She could have tea in the center of the city, and while thy company might be interesting, I rather doubt—given thy lack of communion with the rest of Boston and paucity of friends—that it alone would merit the effort it takes to reach thee.”

Winston had a small grin on her face and rested her gloved hands demurely before her.

“Well?” Adams continued.

“Yes?”

“I asked thee a question.”

“I answered it. Was there another hidden in thy remark that I am friendless and I missed it?”

Adams started to say something, but the governor stopped him. “We are all quite sure thou hast friends,” Endicott said. “When Mary came to thy home for tea, did she ask for advice?”