Heartfire

Chapter 7 -- Accusation

Alvin didn't exactly doze off while Arthur Stuart told the story of his life. But his mind did wander.

He couldn't help hearing how Arthur Stuart's voice didn't change when he spoke. No one else would have remarked upon it, but Alvin still remembered how, when Arthur Stuart was younger, he could mimic other folks' voices perfectly. No matter how high or low the voice, no matter what accent or speech impediment it had, no matter how whispery or booming it might be, it came easily from the boy's mouth.

And then came the Slave Finders, with a sachet containing pieces of Arthur's hair and body taken when he was first born. They had the knack of knowing when a person matched up with a sachet, and there was no hiding from them, they could smell like bloodhounds. So Alvin took the boy across the Hio River, and there on the Appalachee side he made a change in the deepest heart of the tiniest parts of Arthur's body. Not a large change, but it was enough that Arthur no longer matched up with his own sachet. Alvin took him down under the water to wash away the last traces of his old skin. And when he came up out of the water, Arthur was safe. But he had lost his knack for doing voices.

Ain't that the way of it? thought Alvin. I try to help, and I take away as much as I give. Maybe that's how God set up the world, so nobody could get no special advantages. You get a miracle and you lose something ordinary that you miss from then on. Some angel somewhere measures out the joy and misery, and whatever your portion, you get it no matter what you do.

Suddenly Alvin was filled with loneliness. Silly to feel that way, he knew, what with these good companions alongside him. But somewhere down south there was his wife who was also his teacher and his guardian, the bright pair of eyes that watched him from infancy on, even though she was scarcely more than a baby herself when she started. Margaret. And in her womb, the start of the next generation. Their firstborn daughter.

And, thinking of them, he began to seek for them. He wasn't like Margaret, able to leap from heartfire to heartfire with a thought, able to see just by having the wish to see. He had to send his doodlebug out, fast, faster, racing across the map of America, down the coast, passing heartfires of every living thing, through fields and bright green forests, over rivers, across the wide Chesapeake. He knew the way and never got lost. Only in the city of Camelot itself did he have to search, looking for the paired heartfires that he knew so well, that he sought out every night.

Found. Mother and the tiny heartfire of their developing daughter. He could not see into heartfires the way Margaret could, but he could see into the body. He could tell when Margaret was speaking but had no notion what was said. He could hear the heartbeat, feel the breathing, tell if she was upset or calm, but he could not know why.

She was eating. She was tense, her muscles held rigid, her attitude wary. Two companions at dinner. One of them unfamiliar to him. The other...

What was Calvin doing across a table from Margaret?

At once Alvin did a closer check on his wife and baby. Nothing interfering with the baby in the womb-- her heartbeat was regular, she showed no distress.

Of course not. Why should he even imagine that Calvin posed any threat to his family? Calvin might be a strange boy, plagued with jealousy and quick to wrath, but he wasn't a monster. He didn't hurt people, beyond hurting their feelings. No doubt his fear came from Margaret's constant warnings about how Calvin was going to get him killed someday. If he posed any danger to Margaret or the baby, she'd know long beforehand and would take steps to stop him.

Calvin and Margaret dining together. That bore thinking about. He could hardly wait for Margaret to get some time alone and write to him.

Then he got to thinking about Margaret and how he missed her and what it might be like, the two of them settling down without feeling the weight of the world on their shoulders, spending their time raising children and working to make a living. No Unmaker to be watched for and fended off. No Crystal City to be built. No horrible war to be avoided. Just wife, children, husband, neighbors, and in time grandchildren and graveyards, joy and grief, the rising and falling floods and droughts of the river of life.

"You fall asleep, Alvin?" asked Verily.

"Was I snoring?" asked Alvin.

"Arthur finished his tale. Your life story. Weren't you listening?"

"Heard it all before," said Alvin. "Besides, I was there when it happened, and it wasn't half so entertaining to live through as the tale Arthur makes of it."

"The question is whether Miss Purity wants to be one of our company," said Verily.

"Then why are you asking me?" said Alvin.

"I thought you might help us listen to her answer."

Alvin looked at Purity, who blushed and looked away.

Arthur Stuart glared at Verily. "You accusing Miss Purity of lying?"

"I'm saying," said Verily, "that if she believed your story, then she might fear the great power that Alvin has within him, and so she might give the answer that she thinks will keep her safe, instead of the answer that corresponds to her true inclinations."

"And I'm supposed to know whether she's telling the truth or not?" asked Alvin.

"Her heart isn't made of wood," said Verily, "so I can't tell if it beats faster or slower when she answers."

"She's the one with the knack to tell what people feel," said Alvin. "Margaret's the one as sees into folks' heartfire. Me, I just fiddle with stuff."

"You are too modest," said Purity, "if what your disciples say is true."

That perked Alvin right up. "Disciples?"

"Isn't that what you are? The master and his disciples, wandering about in the wilderness, hoping to recruit another."

"To me it looks more like a lost man and his friends, who are willing to be lost with him till he finds what he's looking for," said Alvin.

"You don't believe that," said Purity.

"No," said Alvin. "They're my friends, but that's not why they're here. They're fellow dreamers. They want to see the Crystal City as much as I do, and they're willing to travel hundreds of miles to help me find it."

Purity smiled faintly. "The Crystal City. The City of God. I wonder who it is you'll end up hanging, since you can't very well hang witches."

"Don't plan on hanging anybody," said Alvin.

"Not even murderers?" said Purity.

Alvin shrugged. "They get themselves hung no matter where they go."

"Once you have the gallows, you'll find new reasons to hang people from it."

"Why are you being so spiteful?" asked Verily. "New England hasn't added a capital crime in the two hundred years since it was founded. And some former capital crimes haven't led to the gallows in a century. You have no reason to think that a decent society will go mad with the power to kill."

"New England didn't need new reasons," said Purity, "because it had such a fine catchall. No matter what someone did, if you want him dead, he's a witch."

"I wouldn't know," said Verily.

"You said it yourself," said Purity. "Everyone has a knack. They hide it out of fear and call it humility. But if someone wants to kill a man, he only has to detect his knack and denounce him for it. So anyone can be killed at any time. Who needs new laws, when the old ones are so broad?"

"Did you become this cynical in the past few hours?" asked Verily. "Or have you always taken the lowest possible view of human life?"

"Human life is wicked to the core," said Purity, "and only the elect of God are lifted above human wickedness and caught up into the goodness of heaven. To expect wickedness from human beings is the best way I know of to avoid surprises. And when I am surprised, it's always pleasantly."

"Ask her the question and have done," said Alvin.

"And if I say I don't want to travel with you?" said Purity.

"Then we'll travel on without you," said Alvin.

"Doing me no harm?" asked Purity.

Verily Cooper laughed. "Even if we wanted to, Alvin wouldn't let us. When a bee stings him, he puts the stinger back in it, heals it up, and sends it on its way."

"Then my answer is no," said Purity. "People will be looking for me by now. If you want to be safe from inquiries, you'd best let me go and be about your business."

"No," said Arthur Stuart. "You got to come with us."

"And why should I?" asked Purity. "Because you spin a good tale?"

"I told you the truth and you know it," said Arthur.

"Yes," said Purity, softening. "You did believe every word you said. But it has no bearing on me. I have no part in what you're trying to do."

"Yes, you do!" cried Arthur Stuart. "Didn't you get the point of my story? Somebody's in charge of all this. Somebody gave Alvin the powers he's got. Somebody led his family to Horace Guester's roadhouse, so Little Peggy would be in place to watch over him. Why did my mother fly so near to that place, so I'd be there waiting when Alvin came back? And Mike Fink, and Verily Cooper-- how did they get to meet up with him? Don't tell me it was chance cause I don't believe in it."

"Nor do I," said Purity.

"So whoever led us to Alvin, or him to us, that's who led you here today. You could have walked anywhere. We could have been anywhere on the river, bathing. But here we were, and here you came."

"I have no doubt that we were brought together," said Purity. "The question is, by whom?"

"I don't know as it's a who," said Alvin. "Arthur thinks God's in charge of all this, and I don't doubt but what God has his eye on the whole world, but that don't mean he's spending extra time looking out for me. I got a feeling that knacks get drawn together. And the power I was born with, it's right strong, and so it's like a magnet, it just naturally grabs hold on other strong people and links them up. It's not like good folks are the only ones as get drawn to me. Seems like I get more than my share of the other kind, too. Why would God send them to me?"

Arthur Stuart didn't seem to be swayed by Alvin's argument. Clearly they'd been down this road before. "God brings some, and the other one brings the others."

"They just come natural," said Alvin, "both kinds. Don't go guessing what God's doing, because them as tries to guess always seems to get it wrong."

"And how would you know they was wrong," said Arthur, "lessen you thought you had a scope on God's will!" He sounded triumphant, as if he had at last landed a blow on the body of Alvin's argument.

"Cause it works out so bad," said Alvin. "Look at this place. New England's got everything going for it. Good people, trying to serve God as best they can. And they do, mostly. But they figured that God wanted them to kill everybody as used a knack, even though they never found out how to tell if knacks came from God or the devil. They just called all knacks witchcraft and went off killing folks in the name of God. So even if they got all the rest of God's will just right, look what they done to Miss Purity here. Killed her folks and got her brought up in an orphanage. It don't take a scope on God's will to know New England ain't got it figured out yet."

"You sound like professors arguing over an obscure point of Latin grammar, when the passage itself is a forgery," said Purity. "Whether I was led to you by God or nature or Satan himself, it doesn't change my answer. I have no business with you. It's here that my destiny lies. Whatever I am and whatever happens to me, my story begins and ends with the... with New England."

"With the courts of New England," said Verily.

"So you say," said Purity.

"With the gallows of New England," Verily insisted.

"If God wills," said Purity.

"No," said Verily, "you'll meet the gallows only if you will it."

"On the contrary," said Purity. "Meeting you has been the most important lesson of my life. Until I met you, until I heard your story, I was sure my parents could not really have been witches and therefore a great injustice was committed. I didn't really believe that witches existed. But I have seen now that they do. You have powers far greater than God meant anyone but a prophet or apostle to have, Mr. Smith, and you have no qualms about using them. You are going about gathering disciples and planning to build a city. You are Nimrod, the mighty hunter against the Lord, and the city you mean to build is Babel. You want it to lift mankind above the flood and take men into heaven, where they will be as God, knowing all things. You are a servant of the devil, your powers are witchery, your plans are anathema, your beliefs are heresy, and if my parents were one-tenth as wicked as you, they deserved to die!"

They all stared at her in silence. Arthur Stuart had tears streaking his cheeks.

Finally Alvin spoke to the others, not to her. "Best be on our way, boys," he said. "Arthur, you run and tell Audubon to dry off and get dressed."

"Yes, sir," said Arthur quietly, and he was gone.

"Aren't you even going to argue with me?" asked Purity.

Alvin looked quizzically at her for a moment, then walked away toward where Mike Fink had gone to stand watch. Only Verily Cooper remained.

"So you admit that what I said is true," said Purity.

Verily looked at her sadly. "What you said is false as hell," said Verily. "Alvin Maker is the best man I know in all the world, and there's no trace of evil in him. He's not always right, but he's never wrong, if you understand what I'm saying."

"That is just what I'd expect a demon to say of his master the devil."

"There," said Verily. "What you just said. That's why we're giving up on you."

"Because I dare to name the truth?"

"Because you've latched on to a story that can capture everything we say and do and turn it into a lie."

"Why would I do that?" asked Purity.

"Because if you don't believe these stupid lies about us, then you have to admit that they were wrong to kill your parents, and then you'd have to hate them, and they're the only people that you know. You'd be a woman without a country, and since you're already a woman without a family, you can't let go of them."

"See how the devil twists my love for my country and tries to turn it against me?" said Purity.

Verily sighed. "Miss Purity, I can only tell you this. Whatever you do in the next few hours and days, I expect you'll have plenty of chance to judge between Alvin Smith and the law of New England. Somewhere inside you there's a place where truth is truth and lies get shed like raindrops off oil. You look in that place and see which is acting like Christ."

"Christ is just as well as merciful," said Purity. "Only the wicked claim that Christ is only forgiving. The righteous remember that he denounced the unrepented sin, and declared the truth that everlasting fire awaited those who refused to choose righteousness."

"He also had sharp words for hypocrites and fools, as I recall," said Verily.

"Meaning that you think I'm a hypocrite?"

"On the contrary," said Verily. "I think you're a fool."

She slapped his face.

As if she hadn't touched him, he went on in a mild tone of voice. "You've been made foolish by the harm that's been done to you, and by the fact that the wickedness of this place is so small compared to its goodness. But that doesn't mean it isn't real, and hasn't poisoned you, and won't kill you in the end."

"God dwells in New England," said Purity.

"He visits here as he visits all places, and I dare say he finds much to be glad of in these farms and villages. A garden of the soul. But still aslither with snakes, like every other place."

"If you plan to kill me," said Purity, "you'd better do it quick, because I'm going now to denounce you and send them after you."

"Then be off," said Verily. "They'll either find us or they won't, depending on what Alvin decides. And if they do find us, keep this in mind: All he wants is for people to have a chance at happiness. Even you."

"My happiness doesn't depend on a witch!"

"Does so," said Verily. "But up to now, the witches it depended on were dead."

Tears appeared in her eyes; her face reddened; she would have slapped him again except she remembered that it did no good. Instead she turned and ran from him into the woods, almost bumping into Alvin and Mike Fink, who were returning along the path. A moment later she was gone.

"I think you lost, Very," said Alvin. "Or was that your plan?"

"She's not at her best," said Verily. He looked from Mike to Arthur to Alvin. "Well, is it time for us to put on seven-league boots?"

Alvin grinned at him. "Wouldn't you rather we tied you to the mast as we sailed on past the siren?"

Verily was startled. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I saw how you were looking at her. She struck something in you."

"Of course she did," said Verily. "She's been strangled by the need to hide her very considerable knack, and now she finds that her parents were killed for the same cause. She has to distinguish between herself and those who knowingly do witchcraft. She has to draw the line of virtue and stand on the right side of it without denying what she is and what she knows. I lived that life, except that my parents were fortunate enough to stay alive. I understand something of what she's going through."

"Inconvenient time for her to come to her crisis of faith, don't you think?" said Alvin.

"Don't make more of this than it is," said Verily. "As I told her, if she denounces us the authorities will either find us or not, depending on what you decide."

Mike snorted. "That's an easy one."

At that moment Arthur Stuart and a dripping, somewhat-dressed Audubon appeared. "She's gone," Arthur Stuart said.

"That is good, the way I am dress," said Audubon.

"She's gone to report us," said Mike Fink, "and here we are jawing."

"It's up to Alvin whether we run or wait," said Verily. "She might not denounce us."

"But then she might," said Mike. "And if she does, let's not be here." But Verily and Alvin were looking at each other, deciding some question that the others hadn't heard.

"Is there some reason," Alvin asked, "why I might choose to let them find us?"

Still Verily declined to answer.

"To save her," said Arthur Stuart.

Now they all looked at Arthur. He looked at Alvin, just as intently as Verily had the moment before. Alvin had the distinct impression that he was supposed to understand some unspoken explanation.

"How would it save her, for us to be caught?" asked Alvin.

"Because the way she's acting," said Arthur Stuart, "she's going to get herself killed. Unless we save her."

Mike Fink came between them. "Let me get this straight. You want us to get locked up and tried as witches so we can save her?"

"How would us getting locked up help her?" said Alvin.

"How many birds can I paint in jail?" asked Audubon.

"You wouldn't stay in jail long," said Verily. "Witch trials are notoriously quick."

"What is it about a woman that makes her life worth the lives of four men and a boy?" demanded Mike.

Verily laughed in exasperation. "What are you thinking, Mike? This is Alvin Smith. The Maker of the Golden Plow. How long do you suppose he'd let us wait in jail?"

"You really don't want to leave her behind, do you, Very?" said Alvin. "Or you neither, Arthur Stuart, is that right?"

"Sure is," said the boy,

"That's right," said Verily.

"Goodness gracious," said Mike sarcastically. "Is this love we're talking about?"

"Who's in love?" demanded Arthur.

"Verily Cooper's in love with Miss Purity," said Mike Fink.

"I don't think so," said Verily.

"He must be," said Mike, "because he's let her go off to denounce us to the authorities and he wants us to get arrested because he thinks that'll make her feel bad and she'll change her mind about us and she'll recant her testimony against us and then she'll decide to come along with us. Which is a fine plan, except for the part where we get hung and she kneels at the foot of the gallows weeping her poor little eyes out she feels so bad."

Arthur Stuart looked at Verily, calculation in his eyes. "You think we might change her mind about us by getting arrested?" he asked.

"Mike is wrong, it's not pity I'm counting on," said Verily. "It's fear."

"Fear of what?" asked Alvin.

"Fear of the working of the law. Right now she believes the law is just and therefore we and her parents deserve to die. She'll change her mind quick enough when she sees how witch trials go."

"You've made a pretty long chain out of one link," said Mike.

"Give her a chance," said Arthur Stuart.

Alvin looked at Arthur, then at Verily. Who ever would have thought this man and this boy would be rivals in love? "Might be worth a try," said Alvin.

"If they arrest me they'll take my paintings and destroy them," said Audubon.

"I'll keep you and your paintings safe," said Alvin.

"And if they kill you," said Audubon, "what will happen to my paintings?"

"I won't care," said Alvin.

"But I will!"

"No you won't," said Arthur Stuart. "Cause if Alvin gets killed, so will you."

"That is my point!" cried Audubon. "Let us run away! This greensong that you speak of, for hiding in the forest while running very fast. Sing!"

"What I got in mind," said Alvin, "is more like a saunter on the riverbank. And remember, all of you-- confess to nothing. No witchcraft. No knacks. Don't even admit to being French, John James."

"I ain't going to lie under oath," said Arthur Stuart.

"Don't lie, just refuse to answer," said Alvin.

"That's when they torture you," said Verily. "When you refuse to say yes or no."

"Well, they hang you when you say yes," said Alvin, "and I ain't heard of them just letting you go if you deny it."

"If you don't answer, you can die without ever going to trial."

Alvin began to chuckle. "Well, now I get it. You want to go to trial. This ain't about Purity or being in love or any such thing. You want to take on the witch laws."

"Well I don't," said Mike Fink. "I sure don't have to answer under oath when someone asks me if I ever served Satan."

"It seems to me," said Alvin, "that if you want to have your day in court, Verily, you ought to do it as a lawyer, and not as a defendant."

"And you oughtn't to drag along folks as don't want to stand trial," said Mike.

"Not that any harm would come to any of us," said Alvin.

Audubon threw his anus heavenward. "Listen to him! Alvin has the... hubris. He think he can save everybody."

"I can," said Alvin. "That's just a fact."

"Then let's stay around and save her," said Arthur Stuart. "We don't have to get arrested to do that."

"I want to do more than save her body from death," said Verily.

"Please don't tell us what more you want to do to her body," said Audubon.

Verily ignored him. "I want her to learn the truth about her parents and about herself. I want her to be proud of her knack. I want her to come join us in building the Crystal City."

"Those are all good things to want," said Alvin. "But just at this moment I have a keen memory of the months I spent in jail back in Hatrack River, and I got to say I don't wish even an hour in such a place for any of this company."

"Yes! The wisdom of Solomon!" cried Audubon.

"Which ain't to say I don't see your point, too, Very," said Alvin. "And as for you, Arthur Stuart, I can see as how a young man like you sees a damsel walking straight to the dragon's lair and he's plain got to draw his sword."

"What are you talking about?" asked Arthur.

"Saint George," said Alvin. "And the dragon."

"The boy will not let me to kill birds," said Audubon, "but dragons."

Mike Fink looked puzzled. "Ain't no dragons around here."

"Fall in line behind me," said Alvin, "and say nothing, and touch nothing, and don't stray from the path I mark."

"So you'll leave her to their mercy," said Verily.

"I promise you, Very," said Alvin, "you'll get everything you want."

Verily nodded. Alvin looked at Arthur Stuart, wordlessly making him the same promise, and the boy also nodded.

They all lined up behind him on the riverbank. Alvin started off walking, then picked up his pace, jogging along, then loping, then flat-out running. At first the others worked hard at it, but then they began to hear a kind of music, not with instruments, not the kind you sing or dance to, but the sound of wind in leaves and birds singing, the chatter of squirrels and the buzz of insects, the high white sizzle of sunlight striking the dew on the leaves, the languid rush of water vapor distilling into the air. The sound of their footfalls merged with the music and the world around them tumed into a blur of green, which contained every leaf, every tree, every bit of earth, and made them all one thing; and the runners were part of that one thing, and their running was part of the song, and the leaves parted to let them pass, and the air cooled them and the streams bore them over without their feet getting wet and instead of growing legsore or ribstitched they felt exhilarated, full of the life around them. They could run like that forever.

Then, moments later, the greensong began to fade. The trees narrowed to a strip of wood along the river. Cultivated fields held a muted music, low tones of thousands of identical lives. Buildings broke the song entirely, gaps of silence that were almost painful. They staggered, felt the pounding of their feet on the ground, which was hard now, and the branches snagged at them as they passed. They cantered, jogged, walked, and finally stopped. As one they turned away from the fields and buildings, away from the city of Boston with the tall masts of the ships in the harbor rising higher than the buildings, and faced upriver, to the place through which the song had carried them.

"Mon dieu," said Audubon. "I have flied on angel wings."

They stood in silence for a while longer. And then Arthur Stuart spoke.

"Where's Alvin?" he said.

Alvia wasn't there. Mike scowled at Verily Cooper. "Now look what you've done."

"Me?" said Verily.

"He sent us off and stayed behind to get arrested," said Mike. "I'm sworn to protect him and then you get him to do something like this."

"I didn't ask him to do this alone," said Verily.

Arthur Stuart started walking up the path, back into the woods.

"Where are you going?" asked Verily.

"Back to Cambridge," he said. "It can't be that far. The sun's hardly moved in the sky."

"It's too late to stop Alvin from doing this," said Mike.

Arthur looked back at him like he was crazy. "I know that," he said. "But he expects us to go back and help."

"How do you know this?" asked Audubon. "He tell you what he plan to do?"

"He told all of us," said Arthur. "He knows Verily wants to have a witch trial. So, Alvin's decided he'll be the witch. Verily gets to be the lawyer. And the rest of us have to be witnesses."

"But the girl will denounce us, too," said Audubon.

Verily nodded. "That's right," he said. "Yes, that's right. So the three of you, I want you to wait in the woods until I come fetch you."

"What's the plan?" asked Mike.

"I won't find that out till I talk to Alvin," said Verily. "But remember this: The only charge that matters in a witch trial is, Did Satan rule you? So that's the only question you answer. Nothing about knacks or hidden powers. Just about Satan. You never saw him, you never talked to him or any demons, he never gave you anything. Can you all swear to that truly?"

They all laughed and agreed they could.

"So when it's time to testify, that's the only question you answer. For the rest, you just look stupid."

"What about me?" said Audubon. "I was baptized Catholic."

"You can talk about that, too," said Verily. "You'll see. If I'm half the lawyer I trained to be, none of this will ever come to trial." He joined Arthur on the path. "Come along. It's legal work now. And if everything comes out right, we'll have Alvin free and Miss Purity as a traveling companion."

"I don't want to travel with her!" said Mike. "Look at the trouble she's already caused us!"

"Trouble?" said Verily. "I've been stupefied with boredom in New England. Everything's so peaceful here. Everything runs smoothly, most disputes are settled peacefully, neighbors pretty much get along, people are happy an extraordinary proportion of the time. I'm a lawyer, for heaven's sake! I was about to lose my mind!"

At first Reverend Study was dismissive. "I can understand your being fascinated with the idea of witches, but it's from the past, my dear Purity."

"They bragged about it," said Purity. "I didn't ask them."

"That's just it, you see," said the minister. "They're not from New England, and those from outside tend to mock our stricter adherence to scripture. They were having fun with you."

"They were not," said Purity. "And if you refuse to help me, I'll go straight to the tithingmen myself."

"No no," said Study. "You mustn't do that."

"Why not? A woman's testimony is valid in court. Even an orphan, I think!"

"It's not a matter of-- Purity, do you realize the trouble you are heading into with these wild charges?"

"They're not wild. And I know what you're trying so hard not to say-- that my parents were hanged as witches."

"What!" said Study. "Who told you such a thing! Who is spreading such slanders!"

"Are you saying it's not so?"

"I have no idea, but I can't imagine it's true. There hasn't been a witch trial in this part of New England for... for much longer than you've been alive."

"But the trial wasn't here," said Purity. "It was in Netticut."

"Well, that's a bit of a reach, don't you think? Why Netticut?"

"Reverend Study, the longer we talk, the farther these men will flee. And one of them is a papist, a Frenchman, brought here under false pretenses. They've been pretending he was mute."

Reverend Study sighed.

"I can see you have no respect for me, just like the others," said Purity.

"Is that what this is about? Trying to earn respect?"

"No, it's not!"

"Because this is not the way to do it. I remember the Salem trials. Well, not that I remember them myself, I wasn't even here, but the shame of that city still endures. So many killed on the testimony of a group of hysterical girls. The girls were left unpunished, you know. They lived out their lives, however their consciences let them do it, because it was impossible for an earthly judge to know which charges were malicious and which were the product of self-delusion and mob mentality."

"I am neither a group nor hysterical."

"But such charges do provoke a certain skepticism."

"That's nonsense, Reverend Study. People believe in witchcraft. Everyone does. They check for it at the borders! They preach-- no, you preach against it in meetings!"

"It's all so confusing. What I preach about is the attempt to use hidden powers. Even if they exist, they should not be used to gain advantage over one's neighbor, or even to gain good fame among one's friends. But the formal charge of witchcraft, that requires allegations of contact with Satan, of maleficence. Depending on who the interrogators are, there may be questions about witches' sabbaths, there will be naming of names. These things get out of hand."

"Of course they'll lie about Satan. They never said anything about Satan to me."

"There. It's not witchcraft, you see?"

"But isn't that just what we expect?" said Purity. "Don't we expect a witch to lie?"

"That's what happened at Salem!" cried Study. "They started interpreting denials as lies, as attempts to cover up Satan's penetration of the community. But later it was discovered, it was realized, that there had never been any witchcraft at all, and that the confessions they got were all motivated by a selfish desire to save one's own life, while the only ones hanged were those who refused to lie."

"Are you saying that you believe the Bible is wrong when it says we shall not suffer a witch to live?"

"No, no, of course if you actually find a witch, then you must... act, but--"

"I have found a witch, Reverend Study. Please summon the tithingmen to help me obey the Lord's injunction in the Bible."

Sick at heart, Reverend Study rose to his feet. "You leave me no choice."

"As they left me no choice."

Study stopped at the door and spoke without facing her. "Do you not understand that many long-pent resentments can be released by this sort of thing?"

"These men are intruders here. What resentments can anyone have against them? The judges will be honest. My testimony will be honest."

Study leaned his head into the doorjamb and almost whispered his answer. "There have been rumors. About you."

Purity felt a thrill of fear and joy run through her body, making her tremble for a moment. Her guess was right. Her parents did die for witchcraft, just as she figured. "All the more reason, then, for me to prove myself loyal to the scripture and an enemy to Satan."

"Fire burns all hands that touch it."

"I serve God, sir. Do you?"

"Sometimes God is best served by obeying his more merciful statements. Judge not lest ye be judged. Think of that before you point a finger." Then he was gone.

Purity waited alone in Reverend Study's office. His library, really, it was so stacked and shelved with books. How did he get so many? Had he really read them all? Purity had never had an opportunity to study the titles. Sets of pious literature, of course. Collections of noted sermons. Scriptural commentary. Law books? Interesting-- had he thought of studying law at some time? No, it was ecclesiastical law. With several books on the prosecution of witches, the investigation of witches, the purification of witches. Reverend Study might pretend to have no concern with such matters, but he owned these books, which meant that at some time he must have planned to refer to them. He had not been "here" during the witch trials in Salem, which were the last held in eastern Massachusetts. That could mean he hadn't been born yet-- how long ago were they? --at least a century, perhaps half again that long. But he had been involved in witch trials somewhere. Yes, he knew and cared very much about these things.

She held the book On the Investigation of Witchcraft, Wizardry, and Other Satanic Practices but could not bring herself to open it. She heard that they used to torture the accused. But that must not be the way of it today. The laws were strict that a person could not be forced to incriminate himself. Ever since the United States were formed from the middle colonies and put that rule into their Bill of Rights, the same principle had been given force of law in New England as well. There would be no torture.

The book fell open in her hands. Could she help it? It fell open to a particular place which had been well-thumbed and much underlined. How to put the question to a witch who is with child.

Was my mother pregnant with me when she was arrested and tried?

The child is innocent before the law, being unborn and thus untouched by original sin. Original sin inheres to the child only upon birth, and therefore to take any action which might harm the unborn infant would be like punishing Adam and Eve in the garden before the fall: an injustice and an affront to God.

I gave my mother a little longer life. I saved her by being-- yes, my very name-- by being pure, unstained, untouched by original sin. How many weeks, how many months did I give to her?

Or did she think of this as torture, too? Had my father already been hanged as she languished in prison, awaiting her own trial as she grieved for him and for the child in her womb, doomed to be an orphan? Would she rather have died? Did she wish she didn't have a child?

She should have thought of that before she partook of forbidden practices. "Knacks," they called them in the wicked parts of the land. God-given gifts, that journeyman blacksmith called them, as he attempted to deceive her. But the true nature of Satan's false gifts would soon come clear. The "knacks" these witches use, they come from Satan. And because I know I have never had truck with Satan, then the small talents I have can't possibly be a hidden power. I'm just observant, that's all. I don't turn iron into a golden plow, like the one Arthur Stuart told about-- a plow that dances around because it's possessed by evil spirits like the Gadarene swine.

She trembled with uncontainable excitement. Fear is what it felt like, though she had nothing to fear. It also felt like relief, like she was receiving something long waited for. Then she realized why: Her mother named her Purity to help her keep herself unstained by sin. Today she had faced the temptation of Satan in the form of that wandering blacksmith and his troupe of lesser witches, and for a moment she felt such terrible desires. The barrister was so attractive to her, that half-Black imp was so endearing, and Alvin himself now seemed sufficiently modest and self-effacing, and his dream of the City of God so real and desirable, that she longed to join with them.

That had to be how her mother was seduced by the devil! Not understanding, not being warned, she fell into the trap. Perhaps it was Purity's father who seduced her mother, just the way Verily Cooper had been calling to Purity on the riverbank today, evoking strange feelings and longings and whispering inside her mind that this was love. It had to be the devil making her think such thoughts. Married to a witch! Trapped just as her mother had been! Oh my Father which art in heaven, I thank thee for saving me! I am a sinner like all others, but oh, if thou hast chosen me to be among thy elect, I shall praise thy name forever!

She heard the hurried footsteps on the stairs. She closed the book and replaced it on the shelf. When the door opened, Reverend Study and the tithingmen found her sitting on a side chair, her eyes closed, her hands clasped in her lap, the classic pose of the soul who refused to be touched by the evils of the world.

Reverend Study declined to go with them to catch the witches. Well, too bad for him, Purity thought. Let others of stronger heart do what must be done.

Horses would do little good on the river road. One of the tithingmen, Ezekial Shoemaker, took a group of grim-looking men on horseback to try to block escape downriver, while the other, Hiram Peaseman, kept his men with Purity as they walked the path that the witches must have taken.

"Why are you so certain they went downriver?" asked Peaseman, a stern-looking man who, until now, had always made Purity somewhat afraid.

"They said they were bound for Boston no matter what I chose to do."

"If they're witches, why wouldn't they lie to throw us off?"

"Because at the time," she said, "they thought to persuade me to join them."

"Still don't mean they weren't lying," said Peaseman.

"They told many a lie, I assure you," said Purity, "but they spoke the truth when they said they were bound for Boston."

Peaseman fixed his icy gaze upon her. "How do you know that wasn't a lie as well?"

For a moment Purity felt the old fear come over her. Had she revealed her hidden power?

And then her new confidence returned. It wasn't a hidden power. "I'm very observant," she said. "When people lie, they show it by little things."

"And you're never wrong?" asked Peaseman.

They had stopped walking now, and the other men were also gathered around her.

She shook her head.

"Only God is perfect, miss," said one of the other men.

"Of course you're right," said Purity. "And it would be pride in me to say I was never wrong. What I meant was that if I've been wrong I didn't know it."

"So they might have lied," said Peaseman, "only they did a better job than others."

Purity grew impatient. "Are you really going to stand here, letting the witches get away, all because you don't know whether to believe me or not about which way they were going to walk? If you don't believe me, then you might as well doubt everything I said and go back home!"

They shuffled their feet a little, some of them, and none spoke for a moment, until Peaseman closed his eyes and spoke what was on their minds. "If they be witches, miss, we fear they lay a trap for us, into which you lead us, all unwitting."

"Have you no faith in the power of Christ to protect you?" asked Purity. "I have no fear of such as they. Satan promises terrible power to his minions, but then he betrays them every time. Follow me if you dare." She strode forth boldly on the path, and soon heard their footsteps behind her. In moments they were all around her, then ahead of her, leading the way.

That's why she was last to see why they were stopping not fifty rods along the river path. There sat Alvin Smith on a fallen tree, leaning up against a living one, his hands clasped behind his head. He grinned at her when she emerged from the crowd. "Why, Mistress Purity, you didn't need to come and show me the road to Boston, or to trouble these men to help me on my way."

"He's the chief witch," said Purity. "His name is Alvin Smith. His companions must be nearby."

Alvin looked around. "Companions?" He looked back at her, seeming to be puzzled. "Are you seeing things?" He asked the men: "Does this girl see things what ain't there?"

"Don't be deceived," said Purity. "They're hereabouts."

"Am I remembering aright, or did she just call me a witch a minute ago?" asked Alvin.

"She did, sir," said Peaseman. "And as one of the tithingmen of Cambridge village, it's my duty to invite you back to town for questioning--"

"I'll answer any questions you have for me," said Alvin. "But I don't see why I should go back instead of furthering my journey."

"I'm not the law, sir," said Peaseman. "Not the judge anyway. I'm afraid we need to bring you one way or another."

"Well, let's choose the one way and not the other," said Alvin. "On my own two feet, unbound, in free acceptance of your hospitable invitation."

A faint smile touched Peaseman's lips. "Yes, that's the way we prefer, sir. But you'll forgive us if we have to bind you so you can't get away."

"But I give you my word," said Alvin.

"Forgive us, sir," said Peaseman. "If you're acquitted, you'll have my apology. But we have to wonder if the accusation be true, and if it be, then bound is safer for all, don't you think?"

In answer, Alvin held his hands forward, offering to be bound. Peaseman was not to be tricked, however, and tied Alvin's hands behind his back.

"That's not a good rope," said Alvin.

"It's a good one I bet," said Peaseman.

"No, it won't hold a knot," said Alvin. "Look." He shook his hands lightly and the knot slipped right off the rope.

Peaseman looked dumbly at the rope, which now dangled limp from his hand. "That was a good knot."

"A good knot on a bad rope is no better than a bad knot," said Alvin. "I think it was old Ben Franklin what said that first. In Poor Richard."

Peaseman's face went a little darker. "You'll do us the favor of not quoting that wizard's words."

"He wasn't no wizard," said Alvin. "He was a patriot. And even if he were as wicked as... as the pope, the words are still true."

"Hold still," said Peaseman. He tied the knot again, tighter, and then redoubled it.

"I'll try to hold my hands still so it don't slip off," said Alvin.

"He's toying with you," said Purity. "Don't you see this is his hidden power? Don't you know the devil when you see him?"

Peaseman glared at her. "I see a man and a rope that don't hold a knot. Who ever heard of the devil giving a man the power to untie knots? If that were so, how would ever a witch be hung?"

"He's mocking you," Purity insisted.

"Miss, I don't know how I offended you," said Alvin. "But it's a hard enough thing for a traveler to be named for a witch, without being accused of causing everything that happens. If one of these men loses his footing and falls into the river, will that be my doing? If someone's cow sickens somewhere in the neighborhood, will it be blamed on me?"

"You hear his curses?" said Purity. "You'd best all look to your cattle, and step careful all the way home."

The men looked from one to another. The rope slipped off Alvin's hands and fell onto the ground. Peaseman picked it up; the knot had already loosened visibly.

"I give you my word not to flee," said Alvin. "How would I get away from so many men even if I had a mind to? Running would do me no good."

"Then why did your companions flee?" demanded Purity.

Alvin looked at the men with consternation. "I got no one with me, I hope you can all see that."

Purity grew angry. "You had them, four of them, three men and a half-Black boy who you saved from slavery by changing his nature, and another one a French painter who's a papist pretending to be mute, and a riverman who tried to kill you and you used your powers to take a tattooed hex right off his skin, and the last was an English barrister."

"Excuse me, miss, but don't that sound more like a dream than an actual group of folks what might be traveling together? How often do you see barristers from England with country boys like me?"

"You killed a man with your knack! Don't deny it!" cried Purity, furious, near tears at his obvious lies.

Alvin looked stricken. "Is it murder I'm charged with now?" He looked at the men again, showing fear now. "Who am I supposed to have killed? I hope I'll have a fair trial, and you have some witnesses if I'm to stand for murder."

"No one's been murdered here," said Peaseman. "Miss Purity, I'll thank you to keep silent now and let the law take this man."

"But he's lying, can't you see?" she said.

"The court can decide the truth."

"What about the plow? The Black boy told how this man made a golden plow that he carries with him always, but doesn't show to anyone, because it's alive and his very companions saw it move of itself. If that's not proof of Satanic power, what is?"

Peaseman sighed. "Sir, do you have a plow like the one she describes?"

"You can search my sack," Alvin answered. "In fact, I'd take it kindly if someone would carry it along, as it has my hammer and tongs, which is to say it holds my livelihood as a journeyman smith. It's yonder on the far side of the fallen maple."

One of the men went and hefted the bag.

"Open it!" cried Purity. "That's the one the plow was in."

"Ain't no plow in that sack, gold or iron or bronze or tin," said Alvin.

"He's right," said the man with the sack. "Just hammer and tongs. And a loaf of dry bread."

"Takes an hour of soaking before it can be et," said Alvin. "Sometimes I think my tongs might soften up faster than that old hardtack."

The men laughed a little.

"And so the devil deceives you bit by bit," said Purity.

"Let's have no more of that talk," said Peaseman. "We know you accuse him, so there's no need to belabor it. There's no plow in his sack and if he walks along peaceful, there's no need to tie him."

"And thus he leadeth them carefully down to hell," said Purity.

Peaseman showed wrath for the first time, walking boldly to her and looking down at her from his looming height. "I say enough talk from you, miss, while we lead the prisoner back to Cambridge. Not one of us likes to hear you saying we are deceived by Satan."

Purity wanted to open her mouth and berate all the men for letting this slick-talking "country bumpkin" win them over despite her having named him for a servant of hell. But she finally realized that she could not possibly persuade them, for Alvin would simply continue to act innocent and calm, making her look crazier and crazier the angrier she got.

"I'll stay and search for the plow," she said.

"No, miss, I'd be glad if you'd come along with us now," said Peaseman.

"Someone needs to look for it," she said. "His confederates are no doubt skulking nearby, waiting to retrieve it."

"All the more reason that I won't let you stay behind alone," said Peaseman. "Come along now, miss. I speak by the authority of the village now, and not just by courteous request."

This had an ominous ring to it. "Are you arresting me?" she asked, incredulous.

Peaseman rolled his eyes. "Miss, all I'm doing is asking you to let me do my work in the manner the law says I should. By law and common sense I can't leave you here exposed to danger, and with a prisoner who can't be tied I need to keep these men with me." Peaseman looked to two of his men. "Give the young lady your arms, gentlemen."

With exaggerated courtesy, two of the men held their arms to her. Purity realized that she had little choice now. "I'll walk of myself, please, and I'll hold my tongue."

Peaseman shook his head. "That was what I asked many minutes and several long speeches ago. Now I ask you to take their arms and argue no further, or the next step will not be so liberal."

She hooked her hands through the crooks of their elbows and miserably walked along in silence, while Alvin talked cheerily about the weather, walking freely ahead of her on the path. The men laughed several times at his wit and his stories, and with every step she tasted the bitterness of gall. Am I the only one who knows the devil wears a friendly face? Am I the only one who sees through this witch?