Margaret and Priscilla was scheduled for the Monday following their arrest. It was held in the large meetinghouse in Salem Village, and Samuel Sheldon was the magistrate assigned to conduct the hearings. There was a bar of justice at which the accused stood to face the accusers; the accusers were a row of teenage girls who sat on a bench in front of the auditorium. The room itself was filled to capacity by throngs of people eager to enjoy the scandal in their midst.
William left Phip at home in the care of Bridget, and went to the meetinghouse to stand with his wife and daughter. It frightened him to expose himself to the accusers, but it frightened him more not to stand with his family. He had always been their guardian and protector.
Dressed in his best blue suit, a black hat, and black shoes, he walked into the meetinghouse as confidently as he was able. The room was already filled, and upon his arrival an excited buzz of voices spread among the spectators. He closed his mind to their ridicule. His jaw tightened, his lips drew thin, and he fought back his anger. How many of these women’s babies had Margaret brought into the world? How many of the mothers would have died in the birthing without Margaret’s knowledge and skill? Where was their gratitude and respect?
William stood in the back of the room and waited for the proceedings to begin. When the hearing was called to order and the first prisoner, Priscilla, was brought to the bar, William strode forward to be with her.
Priscilla’s pale face lit up when she saw him.
The knot in the pit of William’s stomach tightened when he saw her dirty and disheveled condition, but he smiled at her, walked to her side, and took her tiny hand in his.
“I’m William Hawthorne,” he told the magistrate. “I believe my wife and daughter to be innocent of the crimes they’ve been accused of, and I’m here to stand with them during this examination.”
Sheldon nodded. “That’s your right.” He picked up a piece of paper and read from it. “We have before us now the examination of six-year-old Priscilla Hawthorne. She’s accused of the abomination of witchcraft.” He looked across the bar at the small girl. “So, are you a witch?”
Priscilla thrust out her chin and said, “I am not.”
The magistrate cleared his throat. “My notes here indicate that you’re not a churchgoing Christian. Is that true?”
“I don’t go to church.”
“Why?”
“It’s too far to come into town every week. We live on a farm.”
“Other farm people come into town to attend church.”
“Ours is the farthest farm from town. It’s very far.”
“If you haven’t been instructed in the faith, how do you know that you aren’t a witch?” Sheldon asked.
“Because I heard that witches do bad things and kill people and play with someone called the Devil, and I don’t do any of that.”
“Does anyone in your family do those things?”
“No.”
William felt Priscilla’s fingers tighten on his. He gently squeezed her hand in return.
“Why did you kick Constable Stone?” Sheldon asked.
“Because he was hurting Catch. My dog.”
“Your dog was attempting to prevent the arrest of an accused witch. Only a devil dog would do such a thing. The constable’s action — the hanging of that beast — was appropriate to the circumstance. Why did you try to prevent it?”
Priscilla’s face reddened and her eyes filled with tears. Her composure faded as she whispered, “I loved him.”
Sheldon gave her a hard stare and then turned to the six young girls who sat primly on the bench before the bar. “What say you, God’s mouthpieces?”
On that cue, four of the girls began to writhe and moan. Then two of them fell onto the floor in convulsions.
“She pinches me.” The girl named Elizabeth held out her arm for everyone to see the tiny spot of blood. “Her shape is here and is pinching me .”
William squinted and strained to see the marks.
“Get away , little
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley