“The Boston authorities?”

“Aye.”

“We must be consulting different men in the government, sir.”

Mather ignored this. “My information is accurate. The magistrates in Boston who’ve reviewed the cases at my request are just as certain justice has been done as your petitioners are certain injustices have been done. But in truth, only time might tell.”

“I can’t fathom it, sir. Are you saying that you sent Stoughton, Addington, Saltonstall, and Sewell here? To form this illegally got up Court of Oyer and Terminer?—with the express purpose of . . . of making the witch hunt a political issue?”

“I see nothing illegal about the court.”

Jeremy, exasperated at this limited response, explained the technical reasons why such a court should never have been convened, but from the moment he began, Jeremy sensed that Cotton Mather didn’t wish to hear it.

“We can’t possibly wait for my father to return with a charter to act, Mr. Wakely; by then the demonic forces unleashed here will have won this war of souls!”

“This is no true or holy war, sir, but a twisting of our beliefs—to arrest any who are prosperous among us, to accuse them of making a covenant with Satan for better crops, successful business, healthy children!”

“It brings into question your judgment and your allegiances, Mr. Wakely!”

I’m no longer Jeremy now but Mr. Wakely. “What? You know very well my allegiance is toward the good of the colony and the Crown!”

“Brings into question either your judgment or your allegiance, Wakely--these entanglements you’ve openly had with the villagers, sneaking Mrs. Parris and her child from this place, getting into fights at the local pub, arguing with the duly appointed Sheriff—some say convincing him to be derelict in his duties, for which he now stands arrested, not to mention—”

“Please, don’t hold back any gossip! Is it Parris and Noyes or both who’ve brought you up to date?” Jeremy asked knowing the answer. “I swear by all that his holy and just, sir, that neither my judgment nor allegiance is in question! For that, look to those co-conspirators!”

“Not to mention that you’ve married into a family from whom no less than three witches have been culled—”

“Three innocent women!”

“— while on a mission to help stabilize the parish that has become more unstable than ever, since your arrival? You’ve been a disappointment, Wakely.”

The words stung as they echoed Higginson’s that night he’d met with him in the coach. Jeremy didn’t know what to say to this. Mather added, “A letdown, both to me and my father.”

“You’re hardly being fair, Reverend! I accomplished a great deal. Yes, I admit, to some failures but I won’t apologize for falling in love nor standing with men of conviction and righteousness in the face of ignor—”

“I realize full well, but you’ve managed to fan the flames rather than quell them, Jeremiah!”

“No, that’s been the business of Reverend Parris.”

“You show little aptitude for politics, sir,” Mather countered, pacing and shaking his head and puffing on his long-stemmed pipe like some pagan Indian chief himself. “Look here, Jeremiah, how do you think Judge Stoughton, the defender of Andros’ despicable regime, gained re-election this month?”

“By defeating the supernatural, I suppose.”

“Precisely.”

Jeremy detested the new thread of this discussion and what it portended for Salem and for Rebecca Nurse, her sisters, Elizabeth Proctor, and so many more innocents. And he wondered what Mather wanted him to say or do at this moment?

Finally, Cotton Mather took him by the shoulder and said in his ear, “We must go lightly here, my friend, or we ourselves could be singled out as friends of witches and warlocks. Learning of your marriage to this Nurse woman came as a great shock to me—out of the blue, as it were.”

Jeremy caught the glint in his eye and saw Noyes reflected there, sneakily eavesdropping on their conversation. It’d likely been Noyes who’d clarified the ties of relations between Jeremiah, his bride, and three accused and arrested ‘witches’.

“On the surface of it, you deceived the village minister and people, Jeremiah, and then you aligned yourself in matrimony to the child of a witch.”

Now it came clear. Reverend Cotton Mather wanted nothing to do with taking on William Stoughton and the mob. “Look, Mr. Wakely, whatever happens here, you are a married man now.”

“Married to the daughter of Rebecca Nurse, yes, but that’s got—”

“Take your bride out of here, man.” It was the same advice as Rebecca’s. “Go and take up that property in Connecticut, the land my father signed over for your services there.” He held out a deed to Jeremy. “Go ahead, take it and be gone.”

“He signed it over? When?”

“He insisted I not hand you this until your work here was complete.” Mather shook the land grant at him.

Jeremy opened it to find it all legally signed over to him. It proved that Increase Mather’s influence went beyond the boundary of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Jeremy could only imagine the kind of power the elder Mather wielded. He didn’t know what to say.

“Disappear and begin a life elsewhere. Take your woman and go. It’s my best advice.”

“Are you saying the hangings are going forward?””

Mather breathed deeply. “There is nothing to stop them.”

“But you have power and influence.”

He girded his belly and gritted his teeth. “Nothing can be done. All is in motion.”

Jeremy looked away, looked to the ceiling, to the windows. No answers anywhere. “One favor, no two—two favors, sir.”

“If I can.”

“I’d forfeit my land grant, sir, if you’ll use your influence to free Mother Nurse.”

Mather paced, his jaw set, his hands nervous. “Wakely, I cannot free anyone; I haven’t the influence you believe.”

Jeremy paced in a circle and came back to face him, not allowing Mather to hide his eyes. “This woman is innocent, a woman of God all her days. Yet each day she spends in that hole, her guilt mounts. Those accusing children have made a monster of her, saying even in chains, her shape comes to them in the night and torments them, stabbing them with needles and pins. And it’s all impossible lies.”

“Not all impossible, and not all lies, Jeremy. Enough . . . just enough truth to sway the average mind here. Some of those arrested are guilty of incantations, spiteful hexes, and a love of Satan.”

Jeremy stared at the minister. “That is what you believe?”

“Without a doubt.”

Jeremy muttered, “Without a doubt?”

“No hope for those whose hearts are set in stone against our Lord—as you well know.”

“What of my second request?”

“Which is?”

“To have an audience with the judges, to speak of just how tainted one accuser’s words are—proof of an earlier enmity driving this person.”

“To what end, Jeremy? One accuser proves a liar and is prohibited from speaking?”

“It is a series of straight lines from this single lie to the lies of others. If one major accuser, whose name has appeared on multiple arrest warrants and sworn affidavits is proven a liar, and a wretched one who would use the courts and the officers of the court for personal gain, then how many others? This evil we fight is not in the air or in some invisible place, sir, but here!” Jeremy pounded his chest. “In our blood, in our very hearts.”

“You are certain of this accuser’s usage of us all?”

“I am.”

“Then perhaps she is a witch?”

“No, no—just a pathetic, angry, vengeful heart—as is Parris. I have a copy of a sermon that I made in which he literally predicts Rebecca Nurse’s arrest—weeks before the event.” He produced the document, which Mather examined closely. “I’ve seen the original at Hathorne’s court. It is not enough, Jeremy, to condemn the man or turn the tide. Sadly, you never gave us enough on Parris to turn the tide.”

“But I sent you reams of information.”

Mather gave him a peculiar look, but said, “I will order the court to hear your petition on this suspected witch you have singled out, Jeremiah, behind closed doors. The judges can do with the information what they wish. I hope you have evidence to support your contention, and for my part, I would like nothing better than to see an end to this horrid business.”

“I’m sure you mean that, sir.”

“Contact me tomorrow here for an appointed time to speak to the high court.”

Mather rushed away without another word, pushing through the door and disappearing. As Jeremy watched him go, he wondered at the depth of fear residing in the heart of Reverend Cotton Mather.

In a series of dead ends, for Jeremy, this confrontation with Cotton Mather felt like a brick wall, a final dead end. He folded the land grant and the copy of the Parris sermon, which Mather had mocked as inconsequential and tucked both into his breast pocket. As to accepting the bribe from Mather to get out of Salem, he had little compunction not to do so. I’ve earned it for all the years I’ve done the Mathers’ cloak and dagger work.

# # # # #

Captain Thomas Putnam looked down from his horse at the alternating pattern of light and dark lying across the dusty, pitted, gray roadbed. It’d be dark soon, and he and others would be left in the night . . . on the road, far from Salem, in the company of witches held in custody. To be sure, the witches were shackled and locked away in a caged cart surrounded by the best metals his mine produced, but everyone knew that by darkness, even a chained witch could go out of body to create great havoc, pain, and torture. That a she-devil could turn into a small mouse and slip from shackles and through bars—and nightfall approached.