The Necromancer by Kevin Read Free Book Online

ndings—if there be any—upon your return.”
    “I shall depart for Boston tomorrow.”
    There was the sound of chair legs dragging across fl oorboards.
    “Farewell,” Parris said.
    Ambrose walked quickly to the door and knocked.
    Parris opened it, glared at him gravely, nodded, and then walked out. Hathorne, who had been sitting at the table, stood up.
    “Reverend Blayne,” he said. “What brings you here?”
    Hathorne’s eyes were red, his complexion pallid.
    “That matter concerning Susanna Harrington. You
    know I believe—”
    “Yes, yes,” Hathorne sighed. He looked more serious than Ambrose had ever seen him.
    “You think she has been falsely accused. I don’t know what is worse: all this diabolism which is afoot or all you reverends who seem so thirsty for witches’ blood at the fi rst, then wish they be dubbed saints.”
    “It is most singular, I know. But my belief is fi rm. I do not wish to see innocent blood spilled, especially of one so young and pure of heart.”
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    Hathorne looked away, shaking his head slightly.
    “I can have her transport to Boston detained as a courtesy to you—there is word the prison there is overstocked, anyway—but do not ask it of me again. I trust you know this places me in a most awkward position, but you must have ample reason for your request.”
    “I do.”
    There was a long silence. Ambrose sensed tension coming from Hathorne. Hathorne turned away and walked to the window.
    “Have you heard of the recent massacre just outside Albany?”
    “Yes,” Ambrose replied. “Indians, were they not?”
    Hathorne placed his hands on the window sill, as if to support himself.
    “Bloodthirsty savages.” He took a deep breath. “Word has it; they came in the small hours of morning, fully two score of them, screaming like animals. They came and raped, pillaged, and murdered well near eighty colonists—men...and women...and children!”
    Hathorne’s head drooped. From behind, it appeared to Ambrose as if he was sobbing. He was.
    The magistrate continued. There was an
    uncomfortable tremor in his voice.
    “When they had fi nished with their treachery, they razed the village and rode off with all the livestock, leaving barely a soul alive. Only by the following sunrise was their worst abomination discovered.”
    Hathorne’s voice was so low now Ambrose had to
    strain to hear him.
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    “The smoke was seen in Albany by a blacksmith and his son. They called together an assembly of townspeople and rode out to be of some assistance. When they arrived, they learned the insufferable truth. The mere thought of it makes me ill.”
    More silence. Then:
    “Those damned, heathen beasts had eaten of the fl esh of those poor people.
    “MY BROTHER AND HIS FAMILY LIVED IN
    THAT VILLAGE!” he screamed angrily, then broke down and sobbed more intensely.
    Ambrose stood by silently, not knowing what he
    could say. He wondered why Hathorne had bothered to tell him about the massacre. What signifi cance did this have to Susanna?
    The judge managed to regain some of his composure once again.
    “With all the recent barbarism perpetrated by these savages, many of our people are affrighted that they may be the next attacked and are seeking protection and retribution.
    There is an overwhelming sense of helplessness growing amongst us. The people feel they no longer have any control, and with the recent property disputes and this business of witchcraft, it is quite understandable.”
    He turned and faced Ambrose.
    “I need not tell you how this applies to your Miss Harrington’s case.”
    Ambrose nodded.
    “The people want more control over their lives. They want to feel safe. They are angered by the events which have transpired of late. I am angered!”
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    Hathorne drew a deep breath then continued.
    “Susanna Harrington may be innocent, but it will be very diffi cult to pose that case before the court. Witches are guileful creatures, are they