Alis (4 page)

The Elders were emerging now through the double doors from the meeting hall into the vestibule. Among them was the Minister—an old man, tall but a little bent, with a mild face and white hair thin on top and long behind. It was a style Alis had not seen among the other men, most of whom wore their hair short like Thomas or even cropped. He was looking at her with his rather faded blue eyes.

“Thomas”—the voice had lost its firmness as old men’s sometimes do—“surely it is not needful for your young guest to be here today.”

Thomas, a little behind him, raised his eyebrows at this but he said courteously enough, “Alis herself offered her presence in place of my wife who is sick.”

The Minister looked distressed. “Ah, my dear Thomas, the women do not like this business. They do not like it at all. And neither do I, if truth be told. I wish we might do things in the old way. My wife refuses to be there. She calls it barbarism. Your Sarah thinks the same, I daresay.”

Alis held her breath as Thomas’s lips tightened ominously, but he only said, “My wife is of my view in all things, Minister, but as I say she is much sick of late. And you know that we have debated these matters and are agreed that the man must be punished. He denies the Maker. He has tried to spread his poison among our young. And the half-witted woman who became his servant is with child by him.”

“As to that, Thomas”—the old man looked keenly at him—“whether the child is his or not, he would have married the woman if you had not angered him with your sermonizing, that is certain.”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly the great bell began to ring, and the Elders moved in a group into the square to take up positions beside the platform. From the houses around the square, and from the streets and lanes leading to it, the people came, some speaking in low voices, some grimly silent. Soon the whole Community was assembled, from the bent and aged leaning on sticks to children as young as eight. Because she was with Thomas, Alis found herself right at the front.

Suddenly the murmur of the crowd ceased. From the north corner of the square, four black-clad men approached, enclosing as they walked, a fifth figure in something white. The people parted to let them through. As they came closer, Alis could see that the prisoner’s hands were behind his back, tied presumably, and that two of his captors held him firmly by the arms. He was a large man with golden-reddish hair that hung down in tangles. A blue-eyed man, not handsome with his large fleshy nose and pouchy cheeks, but appealing. Alis thought his was a face made for laughter, though he was not laughing now. He was unshaven, too. He had on a pair of corduroy farm breeches and a loose white smock. Among the black-clothed, crop-haired men of the Community he looked wild. He passed so close to Alis that she could have touched him; she smelled the heat of his body and knew he was afraid.

A set of steps had been placed against the side of the platform, and he was pushed up them until he was standing above the crowd with his attendants at his side. One of them stepped forward, thin-faced and stiff—the Senior Elder. The silence deepened. When he spoke, his voice in the cold air was like a fingernail scraping glass.

“Good people of this Community, you know why you are here today. To bear witness to the proper punishment of one who has denied his Maker and corrupted your young. One who fornicates and would have spread his foul ways among the innocent.”

Here the prisoner made a movement as if he would have protested, but the man on his left jerked him by the arm and he subsided. The voice began again.

“Punishment is ordained as follows:

As they registered the total, there was a shocked murmur from the crowd. Alis felt her head spin. How could she watch this? Surely the man would die. Why had she not stayed with Sarah instead of putting herself forward so foolishly?

Now the two captors who had been holding the prisoner were untying his hands and pulling him over to the whipping post, turning him round so that he had his back to the crowd. One of them ripped open the white smock and tore it away so that the skin of his back was exposed. Then they bound him to the post. When it was done, they all descended, leaving him there alone.

For a long moment nothing happened; then there was a movement in the crowd as it parted to give passage to someone else—a bull-necked, shaven-headed monster of a man in a sleeveless leather jerkin that showed the great muscles of his arms. He was carrying a whip. Although her parents had never beaten her, Alis had seen implements of punishment in the houses of her acquaintances: thick sticks, thin canes, or leather horse whips. But she had never seen anything like this. From the handle emerged a dozen long leather thongs. In the gray light she could see clearly that they were studded with glinting points of metal.

The whip carrier was on the platform now and had shed his jerkin. He looked down and received a nod from the Senior Elder. Grasping the handle in both hands, he swung round and raised the whip. The muscles of his torso and shoulders moved under his skin like living things; the thongs whistled in the thin air as they descended. They met the victim’s back with a spattering sound like sudden hail on dry ground. The prisoner cried out, and at once spots of blood bloomed on his white skin. Again the whip was raised. Again the lashes fell. Again the prisoner cried out. Again. Again. Again.

Alis longed to shut her eyes, but she could not. She was hypnotized by the terrible rise and fall of the whip. The blows fell in a steady rhythm, and now each one elicited a high-pitched scream from the victim. His back was crisscrossed with bloody lines. There was not a sound from the crowd.

By the time he paused to refresh himself from the tankard passed up to him, the man wielding the whip was breathing heavily. Blood flecked his shaven head and mingled with the sweat running down his face and chest. The whipped man had sagged as far as the ropes binding him would allow; his back was raw meat. At some point he had turned his head so that his face was now toward where Alis stood. His lips were bloody where he had bitten them in his agony, and his eyes were shut. He must, however, have been aware of what was happening, for when his tormentor put down the tankard and took up the whip again, he shrieked aloud. At this, Alis’s resolve broke. She had lost count of the number of lashes delivered, but however few were left she could bear it no more. She turned, pushing her way blindly through the crowd, and fled out of the square, thinking only to escape the dreadful sounds that pursued her as the punishment began again.

W
hen, gasping for breath, she could run no longer, she was somewhere in the network of streets around the square. The houses were silent and there was not a person to be seen. She leaned against a wall, trying desperately to still the shaking of her limbs, sucking the air into her burning lungs. At last her breathing quieted and she began to wonder what she should do. Thomas would be ill pleased that she had run off. She shuddered at the thought. If only she could go home. Once more she was overwhelmed with longing. She wanted to be a little girl again, to see her mother reading in the lamplight on a winter evening, to feel the comfort of her father’s arms when she was afraid of the dark. But she could never, never go back.

Suddenly there were voices. A woman whose face was familiar: Mistress Elizabeth, the Minister’s wife, tall and dignified with a still-beautiful face and her silken gray hair coiled neatly at the nape of the neck. She and a boy of about seventeen had turned the corner and were coming toward her. They had been arguing, but on seeing her, they ceased. The woman smiled in recognition. “Why, it is Alis, is it not? What are you doing here alone, my dear? Are you lost?”

Alis nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The other looked more closely at her, frowning now.

“Have you been in the square? Is the dreadful business finished?” Alis swallowed and said huskily, “I was there but it was too terrible. I ran away and now I don’t know what to do.” Her voice trembled.

“You had better come home with me, my dear.” The voice was kindly, firm. “Sarah will be in no fit state to care for you, and as for Thomas—”

The boy broke in angrily, “Grandmother, have a care. She may tell him what you say.”

The Minister’s wife looked at him sardonically.

“I am too old to guard my tongue now, Luke. And I will not be frightened into silence. Now come, let us go home. There will be work for us to do later, and this child needs refuge.”

And so saying, she tucked Alis’s arm under her own and they made their way back toward the square. As they came near, Alis could hear the murmur of many voices and felt herself begin to shake. She could not go on—it was too horrible. But Mistress Elizabeth seemed to know her young companion’s dread; though the Minister’s house fronted the square, they did not go that way. They passed instead along a narrow lane between the backs of houses, through a wooden door, and into a large kitchen garden with neat rows of vegetables and tall bean plants. Beyond, through an archway, was a walled yard with potted plants and shrubs. Alis moved in a daze, content to be told what to do. They went into the kitchen, where pans of different sizes hung from hooks from the wall.

An elderly servant woman in a black dress and white cap was sitting by the stove. At their appearance, she jumped up in agitation. “Oh, Mistress Elizabeth, where have you been? I thought some ill had befallen you.” And seeing Alis, her eyes widened. “And this is not wise surely. Is this not the girl who is at Master Thomas’s?”

Her mistress nodded, smiling.

“Yes, Judith, this is Alis, and she has seen what no child should have seen and is in need of comfort. Let her sit awhile by the stove, and warm up some broth for her to drink. I must speak with my husband and see what is to be done for poor Samuel. And Luke, you must stay here, too. Your grandfather may have tasks for you, and how will you do them if you are running about here, there, and everywhere?”

The youth scowled at this and his grandmother shook her head at him.

“Ah, Luke, do not look so. There will be man’s work for you soon enough in the dark times that are coming. Your grandfather and I will need you surely, even for our lives’ sake, perhaps. Be patient a little.”

She reached out and touched his cheek gently with her hand. When she had gone, the servant, Judith, bustled about heating some soup, muttering fretfully to herself all the while. Luke remained, leaning against the doorpost, watching Alis suspiciously. For a while she did not notice him, still dazed from what she had seen, content that someone had taken charge of her and given her a resting place. At length she looked up and caught his eye. At once he looked away, flushing. He was a handsome boy, with smooth brown skin and dark hair.

Judith, having served the visitor, was hovering anxiously.

“Now, Luke, Mistress Elizabeth needs me I am sure, so I must leave you awhile with Alis, though I should not. I will set the door open so that you may be seen and heard.”

He looked scornfully at her. “You need not fear, Judith. I am not likely to behave amiss with any friend of Master Thomas.”

Shocked out of her dazed state, Alis exclaimed furiously, “I am no friend of Master Thomas! He is a wicked, cruel man and I wish I had never seen him.”

Judith gave a cry. “The Maker protect us! For pity’s sake guard your tongues.”

Luke said proudly, “My grandmother says she will not be frightened into silence and neither will I.”

“No.” Judith was angry now as well as afraid. “And your grandmother is not likely to be taken into wardship and subject to particular discipline as you may be, if you persist in your foolery.”

Luke hesitated. “They would not dare!”

Judith shook her head and looked at him pleadingly.

“They have dared much already. Who knows how far they will go?” Luke’s expression was stubborn. “I would defy them.”

The old woman’s face took on a sarcastic expression. “Like Tobias, you mean. Well, that will be mighty fine news for your poor grandparents. Think of them before you make yourself a mark, young Luke.”

And she went out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind her with more than necessary firmness, quite forgetting she had meant to leave it open.

Luke glanced at Alis and then away again, saying awkwardly, “I beg your pardon if I have mistaken you. I supposed that, as you are dwelling with Master Thomas, you must be of his opinion.”

Still nettled by his first assumption about her, Alis spoke sharply. “I am there at Mistress Sarah’s request, not Master Thomas’s, and it is possible to dwell in the same house without thinking alike. You are not always of one mind with your grandmother, it seems.”

He surprised her by grinning suddenly.

“Well, well! Who would have thought you had so much spirit. You conceal your colors well. What are you doing then, in that house, if you are of our persuasion?”

Alis was still annoyed with him and not pleased to have been thought spiritless.

“I do not know what you mean by your ‘persuasion.’ Mistress Sarah came to visit her sister who lives in our Community and asked for me to accompany her home for a while.”

“And you agreed?” He sounded incredulous. “Or perhaps your parents sent you and you had no voice in the matter?”

Alis thought bitterly that it was not in the matter of visiting Mistress Sarah that she had had no voice, but she could not tell anyone that, and especially not this arrogant boy whom she was beginning to dislike very much.

“It was my own choice. And I did not know then what I know now about Master Thomas, or perhaps I would not have come.”