Chapter Five
Salem, Massachusetts
Ann Tate shifted anxiously on her wooden stool, her eyes never leaving Samuel Wittfield’s back as he hung his coat on the peg by the door.
“Well, Samuel, are you going to take all afternoon, or are you going to tell us what happened?”
Samuel fought back the grin that hovered at the corners of his mouth. Stone-faced he turned to his wife and their neighbor. “I presented the evidence to the Reverend Mr. Noyse, the Reverend Mr. Parris, and the magistrates.” Slowly Samuel pulled out his chair and wearily sat at his place at the head of the table.
Feeling a sudden chill, Elizabeth wrapped her shawl more tightly about her shoulders.“Samuel, ‘tis unkind to keep us in suspense. Tell us what they said. What was their verdict about Sarah?”
Samuel folded his rough hands as if in prayer. “Reverend Parris said that under the circumstances we witnessed, Sarah must be considered a witch. We are to notify the magistrate immediately if her human form appears again.”
“Dear Lord in heaven.” Elizabeth flopped back in her chair, her face pale as parchment.
“Well, what did you expect?” Ann demanded shrilly. “Did we not see Sarah turn into a cat with our very eyes?”
Elizabeth rubbed her temples with fingers that felt like ice. “I did see the cat in her bed,” she whispered. “Samuel?”
Samuel Wittfield shook his head. “I was standing in the hallway when I heard your cries. By the time I reached you . . .” His voice choked, and Samuel looked away.
“Well, I saw it all.” Ann declared emphatically. “One minute Sarah was sitting in her bed, then within a blink she’s gone and a black cat is standing on her nightdress. You might as well face it, Samuel Wittfield . . .” She paused for effect. “Your sister is a witch.”
“Stepsister.” Elizabeth snapped, reaching for her husband’s hands. “They carry none of the same blood.”
Ann pulled her chair closer to the table. “Why do you think Sarah’s name was missing from Tituba’s list?”
Samuel shrugged his shoulders. “Tituba is but a slave. I’m sure the Reverend Mr. Parris has tried to instruct her, but we must remember, she’s been influenced by the devil. Today at the trials, she spoke of riding between Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne as their specters flew through the sky in search of mischief.”
“They flew through the sky?” Elizabeth’s voice quivered with apprehension.
Samuel nodded solemnly. “Tituba said she stood at the reverend’s back door when they appeared and bid her to join them on their broom. She said she refused at first, but they pinched her and struck her with a stick until she agreed. Her back is covered with fresh welts, so her story must be so – “
“But what of Sarah?” Ann interrupted. “She turned into the devil’s familiar before our very eyes.” The widow’s voice was tinged with awe. “Why would she show herself to us in that way?”
“I can’t say I’m completely surprised.” Anxiously, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the shadowy corners of the room. “Jonathan always encouraged Sarah to speak her mind. And they always went way over to Topsfield for services.”
Ann’s eyes narrowed as her imagination took hold. “Yes, but did you never wonder why Jonathan Townsend did not get on with the Reverend Mr. Parris? Somehow he must have suspected that if they prayed in Salem, the good minister would route out the evil that he and Sarah harbored.” Ann stood up and reached for her cloak. “I think we should attend the trials tomorrow. We should leave early in the morning to get good seats before the magistrates arrive at noon. I’m a God-fearing woman, but I would see for myself those whom Tituba spoke of.” For in fact, no matter how she tried, Ann couldn’t imagine the hefty Sarah Osborne seated on a broom.
“But what of Sarah now?” Elizabeth shivered with anxiety and fear. “Should not the good people of Salem be warned that she stalks as a cat?”
“The reverend will announce it from the pulpit on Sunday.” Samuel shook his head sadly. “All will be warned to beware of a sleek black cat that could be Sarah.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “I shall never forgive her.” Her voice was low and full of venom. Samuel turned to his wife. In the firelight her eyes were hard and glittered with hatred. “I shall never forgive Sarah for the disgrace she has brought upon this family.” She squeezed Samuel’s hand. “And I shall never forgive her for the injury she has caused you, dear husband.”
Samuel patted his wife’s hand, and for the first time that evening, he allowed a contented smile to touch his lips.