Alis (25 page)

A little comforted by the rebuke to Thomas, Alis said, “My husband did not say he knew the man, only that he pitied him and would not bring him to the gallows if he could help it. And I neither struck the blow myself nor got another to do it for me.”

William was watching her closely. “And you are sure there is nothing you can tell us that might help us identify this man you say your husband spoke of?”

She stared back at him. He might not care for Thomas but he was no friend to her. He belonged with those who had said she must marry Galin. She would not give Edge up to him. “There is nothing.”

He looked at her thoughtfully but he said no more.

It was already midday. Alis was taken to a room behind the hall, and food and drink were brought to her. She drank gratefully but her stomach rebelled against the idea of eating.

The dry little man who kept the record—Master Aaron—came in.

Seeing the untouched food, he shook his head. “You would do well to eat, Mistress. I doubt not that Master Thomas has more to say against you and you will need all your strength.”

He did not say how badly he thought she had done so far, but she knew.

W
hen she had been summoned again, Alis braved a quick look at the crowded prayer house to see where her parents were sitting. For a moment, neither Hannah nor her father seemed to be there; then she caught sight of them right at the back, sitting side by side, not speaking to anyone. Her mother was looking straight ahead but her father had his head bowed. Alis looked away.

Now the proceedings were beginning again. A wave of fear swept over her as Thomas got to his feet. But contempt and loathing came to her aid. Sarah was at the front, pale and sickly, with her eyes fixed on her husband, like a small animal fascinated by a snake. Alis stiffened herself. She would not be like Sarah. She would defy him to the end.

Thomas asked permission to recount the history of his association with Alis.

William nodded. “So long as it bears upon the case in hand, you may do so.”

Thomas began. “Two springs ago, after visiting her sister here in Freeborne, my wife returned to Two Rivers. She had been sick and was very low in her spirits. She was accompanied by Mistress Alis, who came, as I thought, to care for her. She will not deny, I am sure, that I welcomed her to my house?”

He paused as if to let Alis confirm this but she did not speak. She must listen to all he said and have a care of her own words. When she remained silent, he shrugged slightly and began again.

“I did not know at that time—nor would it have been proper for Alis, as she then was, to tell me—that it had been ordained that she should marry Minister Galin. But I am sure
she
knew, and she was not inclined to be obedient. Even in our first conversations, she flushed and looked ill pleased when her Minister’s name was mentioned. And when I asked her about her own possible marriage—for she said she had a mind to be a midwife—it seemed to me that she spoke reluctantly as if she were hiding something.”

Alis watched him in horror. How little she had managed to conceal from him and how clearly he had remembered it all. The three Judges were paying close attention, William leaning forward as if to catch every shift of expression. Now Thomas was speaking of the day of the whipping.

“My wife was troubled in spirit that day, and I was, I admit, discomfited that she felt unable to be at my side, but I would not force her of course, and when our young visitor offered to take her place, I did not refuse.”

How cunning he was! If she were to say now how cruelly he had treated Sarah that morning, it would seem only that she exaggerated what he had already confessed. She wondered if she could summon Sarah as a witness against him. Even if she would not speak against him, her terror of her husband would surely be obvious. But the moment was gone.

Now Thomas was explaining that she had gone to the house of the Minister and had remained there.

“This displeased me, for I thought my wife neglected, but the Minister had a grandson of seventeen and no doubt that was of more interest to a thoughtless young girl than tending upon a sick woman. I naturally thought her quite safe under the supervision of the Minister’s wife so I let the matter rest. It seems, however, that the young people succeeded in evading whatever watch was put upon them, for the night our prayer house caught fire, the girl disappeared. And though he was questioned and denied it, it was suspected that the boy Luke had played a part, for he was missing until morning. The Elders were much puzzled, however, for the boy was back. They had not run off together and though Alis was suspected of having set the fire, we could not think what reason she would have for such an act.”

William was frowning and now he interrupted. “How is it, Master Thomas, that these grave matters were not pursued? Mistress Alis returned to Freeborne, did she not?”

Thomas nodded. “We were at fault perhaps, Master William, but my servant girl, who made the accusation of fire setting, we did not think trustworthy. Also, we learned afterward, that a mad creature—the kept woman of a sinner who had been cast out—had been seen entering the building, so it was thought that she must have started the fire. And, as I say, there was no cause that we could see why Alis should have done so. It was only when Minister Galin was attacked that I began to think again of what had passed. And then I wondered if the fire had been set deliberately, so that she might get away under cover of the confusion and so avoid the marriage that had been arranged for her.”

Alis felt her stomach churning. How neatly he had put it all together. But she must defend herself; she must not let him have it all his own way. She raised her hand as she had been instructed to do if she wished to challenge anything that was said, and William nodded to her.

“I want Master Thomas to explain how it is that I returned to Freeborne and married Minister Galin. I came voluntarily and why should I do that if I had succeeded in escaping, as by his account I had?”

Thomas smiled as if her question pleased him. “It is indeed strange, and only Mistress Alis herself can solve that mystery for us, but I will take the liberty to suggest that, wherever she was for all those months, she found life outside the Communities of the Book a good deal less easy than she expected. Moreover, it was thought that there had been something between her and the boy Luke, and who knows what she might have hoped for in returning? Anyone will tell you that it was clear she had no relish of her marriage.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowded benches: it had been plain to all. Alis saw she had fallen into a trap, and struggled not to lose heart. He was trying to discredit her, but he could not prove that she had killed her husband. William was speaking with the other Judges. He turned to Thomas and looked frowningly at him. The people hushed their muttering.

“Master Thomas—I hope that you have something more than insinuation to offer: it is an easy enough matter to suggest what may deprive a woman of her good name. And you have included the fire, a matter that has never been pursued and never tested. This you should not have done. Keep to matters of fact if you please, and come to the evidence.”

Alis looked gratefully at William. His face had a brooding look as if he were not pleased with the way matters were progressing. Perhaps things were not so bad after all.

Thomas was apologizing. With Master William’s permission he would call a witness who had something material to say. A nod.

Thomas went on smoothly; he seemed terrifyingly sure of himself. “I wish to take the testimony of the girl, Martha, who was servant to the Minister during his marriage.”

There was a flurry from the benches and Martha came forward, smirking nervously, to stand at the lectern that was placed for the witnesses. One of the Judges spoke the words of the oath for her to repeat and she stumbled her way through them. Then Thomas said to her, “Martha, you were in the Minister’s household from before his marriage, is that not so?”

She nodded.

“Tell the Judges what it was you told your mother when you came home from your work the day after the wedding ceremony.”

Martha looked across at Alis and cleared her throat, but her first words were inaudible. Alis held her breath. Surely Martha could know nothing. William said quite gently, “Martha, you must speak so that we and all the people can hear you, otherwise justice cannot be done. What was it you told your mother?”

This time Martha’s voice was loud enough and more. “There was no blood on the sheets.”

There was a buzz from the crowd.

William stared at her. “What do you mean, there was no blood on the sheets? You have not been asked about the night of the death but about something you told your mother long before the Minister died. You must answer as you have been asked and if you have anything else to tell, there will be time for it later.”

Martha looked frightened and Thomas intervened smoothly. “I think the Judge mistakes the girl’s meaning. She is referring to the wedding sheets. Is that not so, Martha?”

Martha nodded and went on more confidently. “My mother told me I’d have to wash the wedding sheets the first day, to take the blood out. It was a sure sign that the marriage was sealed, she said. But there was no blood, and Mistress Alis, she’d lain in the little room at the back—the bed there was made up and I never did it—and the sheets were slept in, you could tell.”

William was on his feet, his expression dark. “Why, Master Thomas, this is naught but the gossip of servant girls. You are ill advised to trifle with us, for if we find that you have brought this accusation falsely, your own life may be forfeit.”

Alis’s spirits soared. Thomas had nothing more against her and he had angered the Judges, too. Elzbet was right: he had overreached himself. But Thomas showed no sign of anxiety. He was apologizing once more. He would justify all, if the Judges would be patient. That the marriage was unconsummated was suggested, though not proved, by what had been said, and this had bearing on what they should hear next. He asked Martha to describe what had happened the day of Luke’s visit. The girl was sure of herself now.

She threw Alis a triumphant look and embarked on her account. “The young man was come from Two Rivers to see the Minister, and Mistress Alis fainted. I thought she might be with child, for all that there was no sign that she and the Minister . . . Anyway, Minister Galin, he was called away. He wasn’t minded to leave her alone but she would have none of it, saying that she was well again, and he must be about his work, for there was some trouble at Boundary Farm and the child Deborah was in the kitchen, crying. The young man’d gone into the garden to be out of the way, and then he came to the kitchen door to beg a word with the Minister’s wife. My work was done and Mistress Alis told me to go home. But I hadn’t hardly gone a little way when I remembered the elder-flower cordial—Mistress Alis knows my mother’s very partial to it and had promised her some—so I went back to fetch it from the lean-to outside the kitchen door where ’tis kept. Mistress Alis and the young man were in the garden talking and I couldn’t help hearing.” She paused. “The young man reproached Mistress Alis for her marriage but she pleaded with him and said that she and the Minister never lay together.”

There were exclamations of surprise from the people, and Martha paused. She was enjoying herself now. She would pay her mistress back for working her to the bone and threatening to carry tales to her mother!

“Then the young man asked her what she would do if the Minister wanted his rights of her, and she said . . .” Again Martha paused, savoring the sweetness of revenge. She could see Alis’s white face. “She said she could use a knife and she’d kill him.”

There was instant uproar. In vain William called for quiet, but he could not make himself heard above the noise. People were standing up and shouting out. Some were shaking their fists. Others were staring at Alis as if they could not believe what they had heard.

When at length order was restored, William stood before the crowd and rebuked them, his face black with anger. They must contain themselves. They were not savages. How could justice be secured in such conditions?

He waited as if to see whether anyone would defy him, but they were quiet again. He held them with his gaze for a moment and then turned to Alis. This accusation must be answered, he said. Had the witness spoken the truth? She stared at him desperately: he had been on her side briefly, it seemed. Now he must think her guilty, surely. She could not deny what she had said that day, for Martha had spoken near enough the truth. Swallowing, for her mouth was dry as fever, she said hoarsely, “It is true that I said I would kill my husband if he tried to force me. But he did not.”

“Mistress Alis.” William’s voice rose above the crowd’s shocked murmur, silencing it. “You have said that you came back of your own free will to marry Minister Galin. You must have expected to lie with him as married women do. Presumably your mother prepared you for what lay ahead. Did you plan to kill your husband on the wedding night, when he claimed his rights of you?”

She shook her head and William raised his eyebrows. In her mind, she saw again the wide bed with the good linen sheets. She must explain to him.

“I did not think about it beforehand but when . . . when I saw the marriage bed where we must lie together, then I thought . . . I could not. But straightaway he said he would not force me. I had no need to kill him. He was a good man, and no more wanted the marriage than I did. He married me out of obedience, because the Great Council sent the Bookseers and the Book named me, so it was the Maker’s will, it seemed.”

William looked skeptical. “A strange story. And a strange kind of obedience. For a marriage not sealed is no marriage, as I am sure you know, Mistress Alis, and yet you say Minister Galin married you in obedience to the Maker’s will.”