Jeremy and Francis decided to have a dram of ale, the early hour be damned.

# # # # #

Jeremiah stood before the Nurse hearth where no flame warmed the old homestead, where not the slightest ember burned amid the ashes. He marveled at the size of the interior of what most still called the old Towne home, Rebecca’s father’s home. The ceilings here gave Jeremy no concern for his head—so high were they. While at Parris’ home, Jeremy had to constantly stoop to avoid the overhanging studs holding up the roof.

Here the staircase to the second floor stood front and center of the main hall, slicing the house into two sections, a separate fireplace at each end. A narrow, long and high-ceilinged add-on room had been built on the western side, adding a third fireplace and chimney. Great, large black oak beams hung below the ceiling here and traveled the length of the room, extending into the kitchen. The home like the fields had grown and flourished since Francis and Rebecca had taken over stewardship.

Francis returned with two pewter cups filled with ale, drank at room temperature. “That looks good after a long ride.” Jeremy sipped away.

Francis raised his cup. “To seeing you and my sweet Serena again, and to getting my wife back home.”

“To Rebecca, her health and comfort.”

“I fear for her entirely, Mr. Wakely.”

Jeremy nodded. “I still can’t fathom what they can be thinking beyond a rancid passion for your land, sir.”

“The woman is a saint, but they have her sliding needles into the flesh of infants.”

They stepped out onto the porch to the continued sobbing coming from Serena’s room. Once outside, scanning the horizon, azure and orange with dashes of cloud for a beautiful sunrise dappling around and through the tree line.

Francis petted Jeremy’s horse. “Fine animal.”

Speaking of trivial matters felt wrong, as if a sin, in the face of the horror before them. “She’s a witch, my horse.”

“A witch?” Francis was taken aback.

“Knows my mind, I mean. Sorry. But I wish these yokels and fools would point their fingers at a bewitched horse to be put down rather than this notion of putting down people.”

“Rebecca has always known my mind.”

“I’m sure.”

“She’s made me promise, you remember? To hold my tongue and hand.”

“In this matter, yes. I recall.”

“Knew my mind on many matters over the years, she did.”

“Including her arrest?”

“Yes, it’s why she made me swear no interference. She knows so long as the land is held in my name, they can’t take it no matter what they do to her.”

“She knows the law.”

“They come into my home, Jeremy, and shackled her before my eyes. Made a big show of it. Thomas Putnam was grinning like a devil.”

“It’s a wonder you weren’t arrested.”

“It could come at any time. Giles Corey’s been on the run since his wife’s arrest; she gave in testimony against him, that he’s some sort of wizard!”

“Corey—Martha and Gilles. Just as I said. Those with good holdings are now come under fire. Have they taken the mill?”

“Not as yet, but you’re correct. They’ll find Corey, arrest him, and widdle a confession from him, as he holds the deed.”

“Once that’s accomplished . . . “

“Give them whatever they want, Father!” shouted Serena from her window, having listened in.

“It’s your mother’s wish that at no cost do we lose our holdings, child; your mother’s put us all in a difficult situation. She’s made me promise.”

“None of this is her doing!” Serena climbed through the window to come onto the porch and face her father. The two studied one another’s eyes for some time.

“None of it is my doing either, Serena.”

“We must call a meeting of the family.”

“I have. Ben is making the rounds now.”

“We must take a vote. Give them a parcel—that old section of Samuels isn’t being worked.”

“Mother said you had plans for that parcel for you and Jeremiah.”

“I spoke of it with her, yes, but things’ve changed! I give it freely for her! Jeremy?”

“Absolutely, yet—”

“Yet what?”

“I fear it will not satisfy these fiends.”

“Then we give them more!” she scolded Francis, pounding his wide woodsman’s arm with her fists. “Mother in that filthy jail at the village? It’s sinful, unthinkable. She’s not well as is, and that place is a death sentence.”

Jeremy grabbed hold of her and held her until she calmed. “You read my mind,” Jeremy said in her ear.

“One day, Serena will know your mind entirely,” said Francis, his eyes glazing over. “And you hers.”

“I could not wish for more.”

“There’s news that a mine up at Will’s Hill had yet another cave in. Killed two men, maimed another for life, and Thomas Putnam, part owner in the venture escaped with a twisted ankle this time ’round.”

More small talk, Jeremy wondered, or did Francis mean to keep him informed?

Then Francis added, “I’d noticed Putnam’s limp when he and the others took my Rebecca, and I’d silently asked God why he’d not taken Thomas Putnam instead of those boys in that useless mine?”

“God would not have so vile a man!” Serena shouted. “And Parris will learn it one day, too.” Serena paced the porch. “What’s taking Ben and the others so long to get here?”

“We’d hoped you two would not come back,” said Francis, finding a seat. “Hoped you’d remain in Boston at safe distance, Serena.”

“It became untenable,” Jeremy replied, holding Serena’s hands in his, “despite our wishes.”

“So, getting to it, Jeremiah, what success had you in Boston?”

“Little, I fear . . . very little.”

“Little?” Serena gave him an angry scowl.

“I mean aside from our marrying, of course.”

Francis nodded, impatient. “Of course, but did you speak to the magistrates there? The ministers? Mather?”

“They all left Boston before I had an audience.”

“I have heard rumor they are in Salem, the magistrates, but what of Mather?”

“Reverned Cotton Mather,” said Serena through clenched teeth, “may or may not be in Salem; no one seems to know, but rumor has it he’s come to investigate matters personally—or so it’s rumored.”

“Rumored?” asked Francis. “Jeremy, did he tell you this or not?”

Jeremy exchanged a glance with Serena. “A news pamphlet I worked for said it was so.”

“Yes, but did he relate the same to you personally?”

“Tell Father, Jeremy. Tell him!”

“Mather refused to see me.” Jeremy deflated with the confession, finding a seat.

“What? But I thought you two were—”

“One day too busy with colonial affairs,” put in Serena.

“The next he ill and abed, and seeing no one.”

“Hiding, he is,” she grimly said, “like our Governor Phipps.”

The old man considered this news for some time. Once it’d sunk in, he said, “Likely Mather, and perhaps Phipps himself, will follow the others here.”

“The Boston authorities paraded into the village two days ago.”

“Paraded, sir?” asked Jeremy.

“Sir William Stoughton, Sewell, Saltonstall, and Addington.”

“All here, now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Then perhaps they did get my appeals. I’d tried to see them all in turn while in Boston, but was told one after the other was gone. I’d assumed they were simply shunning me like Mather. Well, this is wonderful news! These are men of learning. They’ll put a stop to this nonsense.”

“They’ve done nothing so far.”

“It may take time, but these are intelligent men—Harvard graduates all.”

Francis remained skeptical. “Intelligence is no guarantee of integrity, Jeremy.”

“What’re you saying?”

“Saying that my wife’s arrest warrant came a day after their arrival.”

“Their names on the warrant?” Jeremy stared into the old man’s eyes. “Tell me, were their names on—”

“Like you said, they are smart fellows, so no, they do not attach their names to the warrants.”

“They leave it to Corwin and Hathorne, eh?”

“They do. They’re clever men.”

Jeremy tried to absorb this veiled accusation coming from Francis Nurse. “But Francis, surely the Boston judges did not come here to see Mother Nurse placed in shackles.” Jeremy did not believe them capable of this.”

“They have their own motives. Say they are here to establish order, but they’ve only made things worse.”

“How are you so sure?”

“They’re suing for our property as well.”

“What?” Serena shouted. “They’re not even concealing their motives?”

“They’re saying the original deed was in Rebecca’s hands, which is true. It’d been a land grant given her father, Towne, divided among his three daughters, Rebecca the eldest. When we married, Rebecca’s third share of the deed was changed over in my name.”

Jeremy’s eyes had widened at this, his grimace made of anger and confusion.

“Trying to take our land, just as Jeremy predicted,” said Serena.

“They want the entire place, all three shares,” said Jeremy, “which means they will also be coming for your aunts, Serena.”

“Everything we’ve built.” She dropped her gaze and fought back more tears.

“Tell me, Mr. Nurse, sir, were the Boston justices’ names on the suit?”

“No, no! As I’ve said, they’re not fools.”

“Then how do you know they’re behind this?” pressed Jeremy, hoping against hope that Francis was wrong about the justices of the highest court in the land.

“I’ve talked to Higginson and Hale, who both assure me that the judges—all of them—have sided with Parris.”