“She believes it firmly!” replied Serena. “Says ‘He may have my life, if it’s God’s will, if He has led me to this end, then so be it.”

Francis agreed. “She keeps telling us all to let it be, but how can we?”

“You can’t listen to her!” Ben pounded about. “You sound as if you want her hung!”

Francis moved faster than he had in all the time Jeremy had known him, and he slapped Ben hard across the face. Ben stared in response and quietly said, “All she need do is lie to them; tell them what they want to hear. She is freed then to come home.”

“Those who’ve chosen that route have had to point a finger at others, Ben,” Jeremy said. “Your mother would never indict another.”

Serena added, “She told me that she’d not ever deny her God by doing as others have, by declaring a lie, Ben, by saying she’s abandoned God for the Antichrist. No, she will not!”

“She’s a brave woman, your mother, Ben.” Jeremy patted his young brother-in-law on the back, but Ben shrugged it off.

“Mother pleaded that we not visit again or attempt to see her again,” Serena told her father. “Says we worry her more with our presence; that she is in the Valley of Death and must walk it alone.”

“She fears we’ll bring the full wrath of the most vicious among the villagers down around us,” added Jeremy. “Giving comfort to the enemy will turn eyes on you—and your mother is wise.”

By the same token, Jeremy had himself gone down to the jail two evenings ago by cover of darkness with a handful of coins given him by Francis to put into the palm of Mr. Gatter, that foul-smelling jailer. Jeremy recalled the night visit and the sounds of the suffering inside that damnable, government-sanctioned oven.

Laying the money into Gatter’s hand, Jeremy had said, “Do all you can to make sure the accused are fed properly, Mr. Gatter, and should I learn you have used these funds badly or in gaming, or for drink, I will come looking for you.”

“Awww, ya kin hurt a man to the quick, sir, but for sure, you kin-count on me, Mr. Wakely, sir. I know she’s your mother in there—whether witch or no.”

Jeremiah could hardly abide the smell of Gatter or his twisted features and hair lip or his gnarled legs. He’d spoken briefly with Rebecca through the window, but Rebecca had only one thing to say, and she repeated it throughout: “Get Serena away from here, and if you can, take Ben with you, please. I’ll not budge. Stubborn is my faith.”

“And the authorities, Mother, they will hold their ‘truths’self-evident—that those among you who won’t confess have hearts turned to stone by Satan’s touch.”

“Self-evident, eh? Blindness is evident in this. Look here, I cannot be saved, but my children can be. Do it for me, Jeremiah Wakely, please!”

“But they are deaf to me and to caution. You’ve raised stubborn, proud children, Mother Nurse.”

“Afraid so.”

“Children who don’t run from a fight.”

“Aye but this is no fair fight. Jeremy, convince Francis. Do all you can to get the young ones, and all my grandchildren to safe harbor.”

Jeremy now wondered what safe harbor might be available to any of them. It felt like some cosmic force at work, testing them all. So many things had gone wrong—Increase Mather’s being called to duty an ocean away, Higginson’s being called to the ultimate shore, the Governor’s march off into the wilderness to fight painted but corporeal savages, coming at such a time of avarice, greed, political ambition—all of it at once in perfect blend with the horror on the public mind of demonic overthrow of the entire world beginning with Salem.

# # # # #

At the Nurse compound, emotions ran high, everyone’s nerves frayed at the seams. The old man, Francis Nurse, had once again called all his sons and sons-in-law, and any in the family old enough to carry a weapon. It was to this meeting of angry Nurse-Towne-Easty-Tarbell men, all related and plotting an armed rebellion against the courts in Salem Village that Serena and Jeremy had returned to after a ride that had taken them back to Samuel’s old place, the rustic home where they had first made love for another and more judicious examination with the idea of homesteading there. But before they were through, again they had made love.

Serena kept seeing the bright side of the idea of making Samuel Nurse’s abandoned place theirs, while Jeremy remained skeptical. She’d grown angry with him after he’d suggested they follow Mrs. Parris to Connecticut or return to Boston to set up house there. “In time, I can find work,” he had insisted, but Serena swore she’d never leave Salem until her mother was free of “that dungeon”. “You find a way to free Mother, and I will go to the ends of the Earth with you,” she challenged him.

As they returned to a summit where the main Nurse home could be seen, they saw the standing wagons and buggies about the gate. “Father’s called another meeting in our absence!” She galloped ahead of Jeremy, leaving him and Dancer in her wake.

At the house, Serena pushed through the gate and burst in on them. “Do nothing rash, Father!”

“This is for men to decide, daughter.”

“But Father, how many times’ve you told us that Mother has pleaded that we do nothing rash.”

“This is our mother they have in irons!” Ben charged and menaced her.

Jeremiah stepped in and put up a warning hand. “Serena’s only reminding you all what Mother Nurse has said a hundred times.”

Francis took Serena aside. “We’ve got to do something, girl. We know your mother’s wishes.”

“She wants us safe. She wants us to think of the children, the grandchildren, those yet to be born.”

“We all understand that,” said John Tarbell, joining them. “She wants it left in God’s hands.”

“That may be true,” added Jeremy, “that she believes it’s an ordeal put upon her and you by God, but it’s equally the work of men—black hearted men and well-meaning men. Yes, she’s made some sort of pact between her and her Maker, but Rebecca is also smart. She is willing to sacrifice herself for the rest of you and your land holdings.”

“I tell you,” returned Ben, pacing, loaded gun in hand, “she will accept matters as the will of God when we rescue her from that pit they call a jail!”

“I have a confession to make,” shouted Jeremiah, again interrupting the family he’d so recently become a member of.

“What confession?” asked Francis.

“Two actually. I want to break Mother Nurse out as much as the rest of you, and second . . . this is more difficult, and I should’ve told you sooner, Father Nurse.”

Serena stared at her husband. “What is it?”

“When in Boston, I did some checking on Parris’ recent activities at the court.”

“At the court in Boston?”

“Aye, where it appears he’s had a lawsuit pending for near two years.”

“Lawsuit?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The particulars, Jeremy. Details.”

“The suit is over a section of land.”

“Land?” asked Ben, interested now.

“My land?” asked Father Nurse. “If so, Mother was more right than she knew.”

“A section bordering the Frost Fish and Crane Rivers, sir.” Jeremy exchanged a glance with Serena. “A section once belonging to—”

“Thomas Putnam’s father and sold to Towne forever ago, I know.” Nurse’s words silenced the room.

Jeremiah added, “Parris’ original suit was against the entire Town Council and not simply you. There was no chance of winning such a suit, and from all I can tell, I suspect he got advice.”

“Advice?” Francis paced about the room.

“Of a legal nature, yes . . . say a barrister or a magistrate.”

“Someone in Boston?”

“I suspect so.”

“Do you suspect one of the Boston men who’re now in Salem Village?”

“I do.”

“Bastards!” shouted Ben. “I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true, isn’t it? It’s been about land from the beginning!”

Francis shook his head, stood, held onto the table a moment, and then paced as Jeremy’s eyes darted among the other men. “From the beginning—” Jeremy continued, his voice filling the silence that had fallen on the room—“land and greed far more than withered old witches and warlocks.”

“My Rebecca sits in that god-awful hole down there because of land alone?”

“Land and politics, yes.”

“A land grab it is,” muttered the imposing Tarbell.

Serena grabbed her father’s arm and embraced him. “How do such men sleep nights?”

“Unfortunately, too easily.” Jeremy raised his hands in exasperation.

“Their hearts are made glad too easily, I think,” added Francis.

“All the more reason to storm the jail tonight and wrest Mother free,” declared Ben, Joseph at his side, agreeing, pounding the table.

“And risk one of you being killed in the bargain?” asked Francis.

Serena now pounded the other end of the table. “Have you not construed Mother’s purpose in all this madness? Look, ye fools! Mother wants her day in court.”

“She’s had it and they’ve declared her a witch!” shouted Ben.

“Nay, nay Ben! That was no true court,” Jeremy insisted. “Your mother wants a real hearing before real judges, not ministers or lower court judges.”

Serena stared into her father’s eyes. “She wants to stand up for God and the Boston authorities to make her appeal.”

“And if she dies of disease before that day comes, Serena?” asked Ben. “Then what, Father?” Ben addressed them all now, waving a hand in the air. “Are you prepared to say later that we let her die in that filthy jail?”

Ben stormed out, but Francis persuaded the others to stay and remain calm. Another round of ale was poured. “Everything must be measured.”