“I promised your husband I would let no harm befall you,” he told her. “Look—here comes Eleanor. We will ride back to the farm and wait for tomorrow.”
Somehow, the night passed.
The crowds were out for Robert’s examination, but then he wasn’t the only “witch” being examined that day.
Philip English, a very wealthy sea merchant, did not hold his temper well. When questioned by Hathorne, he demanded to know, “Where, then, is your toleration?” His preference, all knew, was for the Church of England, and such a thing might well have stood against him.
Martha Carrier was brought in, and remained in total fury throughout the proceedings. She brought her garrulous voice high over the ear-splitting screams of the girls. “You lie! I am wronged!”
Though she was an unpopular old woman, Brianna quite believed that she was.
Then it was Robert’s turn.
Brianna, sitting between Sloan and Eleanor, knotted her fingers into her palms in such a tight clasp that she dug holes in her flesh, and only later noted the blood she had drawn.
Hathorne began the examination.
“Why do you afflict these girls?”
“I do not,” Robert replied calmly, and the girls, from their place of importance near the front, began to scream. Brianna could not see which, but two of the young girls and one of the older teens fell to the floor in wild convulsions.
“How can you deny it?” Hathorne’s voice boomed out.
“As Christ is my witness,” Robert replied, staring straight at the magistrate, “I deny it.”
“Oh! He pinches me! He pinches me!” someone cried out—Abigail, Brianna believed. Then that child, too, was on the floor, so contorted that her head snapped back to touch her heels.
The room began to swim before Brianna. She had known it would be this way but she had prayed for strength. She couldn’t bear it.…
She hopped to her feet to defend her husband.
But before she could, Sloan was dragging her out.
“Listen, little fool!” he raged to her. “You’ll do nothing here but get your own name on a warrant! When the trial comes, we’ll be there—calmly, determinedly, and legally—to save him. Brianna, I swear to you by God and my own life, I will not let him die!”
Brianna looked into his eyes, so intensely brilliant today. She smiled then, sadly, for the cast of the swashbuckler still sizzled there—and she believed him, and God alone knew why he stood by her.
“Why don’t you sail away?” she asked him.
“Because you are a witch,” he said lightly, “though we mustn’t let these people know. Because you’ve cast your spell on me. I cannot touch you, but I’d die a thousand times over for you. Neither time nor distance can change that.”
“It’s…it’s my husband we are fighting to save.”
Sloan sighed deeply and shook his head as if he were a bit puzzled himself. “I don’t know if it is because you love him—or because I have come so to respect him myself. It doesn’t really matter, does it?” he asked her, his tone suddenly bitter.
She shook her head, lowering her eyes. “Everything that you want is out there now, Sloan. William and Mary sit on the throne. Your home awaits you. You are free to find a woman of noble birth—young and beautiful, willing and able to give you an heir. But here you stay beside a Puritan goodwife who has brought you nothing but heartache, death, and misery since the day you first saw her.”
“I am a fool, aren’t I?” He tried to grin. “Before God, Brianna, I beseech you to stay silent! Right now, all you can do is be strong for him. Trust in me that I will take action when the time is right.”
The afternoon brought no surprises. Along with the others examined that day Robert was to return to prison to await his trial. Because of his health and Sloan’s money, Sloan was able to obtain a mandate giving Robert the privileges usually reserved for the very prominent. He was to reside in rooms in the center of the village under guard, but Brianna could nurse him so long as his shackles were in place and he did not attempt to leave the building.
They moved into those rooms on June second, the day of the first trial. Bridget Bishop was found guilty, and on June tenth the sheriff brought her to Gallows Hill, and she was hanged.
Robert and Brianna spent the days in tension and misery, with Robert beseeching her to leave before her name could be brought forward.
Sloan divided his time between Robert’s guarded rooms and the jail, for he had promised Eleanor he would support Philip Smith. Cedric Turnberry maintained his social status with the magistrates and justices, reporting all the news to Sloan as he obtained it.
The prisoners were distressed at the news of Bridget Bishop’s execution, but they weren’t without hope. There had been physical evidence against Bridget—the dolls stuck with pins. She had been condemned on more than the say-so of a group of hysterical girls.
