Invisible World (12 page)

I
COULD HARDLY WAIT FOR THE NEXT MARKET DAY
, and it came on a Wednesday, two weeks later. As before, I rode in with John Indian, who said little. I huddled under the cape Tituba had made for me and was glad for my bonnet; the January day was bitterly frigid.

I met Mary Carmen at the market and learned that one of the girls who had been coming to join Abigail, Ann Putnam, Jr., was a member of the family she now served. “Those folks are too quarrelsome,” Mary Carmen remarked. “It's so disagreeable to be among people who are always fighting not only amongst themselves but also with their neighbors, the Osbornes.”

“That's where Aakif is,” I told her. “What's their problem with the Osbornes?”

Mary Carmen told me that Mrs. Osborne's first husband had left the big farm to his two young sons. Mrs. Sarah Osborne was to be in charge of it only until her sons were old enough to claim their inheritance. But Sarah Osborne remarried the indentured servant on her property, Andrew Osborne, and wanted the will changed so she could inherit the property. John Putnam was her first husband's lawyer and was fighting her on it.

“I think John Putnam has influence over the Osborne sons and will be able to convince them to let him use their lands since it is right next to his own,” Mary Carmen concluded. “I don't trust him.”

I told Mary Carmen about Aakif being at the shipyard and bid her a farewell. Finding the shipyard wasn't difficult since I only needed to follow the sound of hammering to reach it. Hanging from the rigging of a ship in dry dock, Aakif saw me and called my name, waving. He swung down with nimble ease as though he'd been working on ships all his life, and met me on the gangplank. We walked back down into Salem Town together.

He loved the shipbuilding and felt he was learning a trade that could serve him well once he bought his freedom. I told him all that had happened with Bronwyn and her three witch companions, as well as the devilish dog.

“I hear talk of witches everywhere,” Aakif remarked. He tapped his collarbone. “Do you have the bead I gave you?” I nodded that I did. “Then don't worry about bad juju. The bead will keep you safe.”

“How can you be sure?” I challenged.

“I trust Aunty Honey. She was the one who gave it to me.”

 

Back at the parsonage, I came in through the side entrance but stopped outside the door, clutching my bags of food. I noticed that someone had left the hatch of the root and grain cellar open. If it had been Tituba, she'd be sorely punished for such an oversight and I didn't want that to happen, so I set my bags down and went to shut it.

As I bent to shut the hatch, I gasped and jumped back. The gigantic black dog that had been with Bronwyn the other night growled at me from inside the cellar, his eyes burning.

I froze as the hound approached me, not knowing whether to run or stay still. At the top step, the hound leapt up at me.

Pulling myself into a ball, I waited to feel its horrific fangs sink into my flesh. But rather than attacking me, it sailed up over my head and disappeared.

Falling backward to the ground, my heart hammering, I was awash with terror and relief that resulted in a bath of hot tears in my eyes. Wiping them quickly, I sat a moment, looking down at the dark cellar before daring to venture into it.

Inside the cellar, everything had been torn apart. Sacks of dried rye were spread across the floor. Barrels of potatoes were tipped. Jars of pickled vegetables lay smashed on the ground.

As I turned in a circle, looking at the damage, Abigail and her group of fortune-seeking girls appeared in the hatch doorway.

“What have you done?” Abigail asked in a taunting voice.

“I've done nothing. I found it this way,” I defended myself.

“Oh, then it must have been Tituba.”

“Not she, either. It was a very large dog that got in here. I saw it.”

“My uncle always keeps this storage space locked. Did the dog have a key?” Abigail asked snidely.

“Of course not,” I snapped.

“Then someone let him in or forgot to lock the door. I see that you have been entrusted with a key,” she said, glancing at the ring of household keys at my waist.

“What have you come here for, Abigail?” I asked sharply.

“I need rye. We are baking dream cakes.”

“What is a dream cake?” I asked.

“After we eat them, we will dream of our future husbands. That way each of us can recognize him when he comes along.”

“What else is in these cakes?”

Abigail wiggled her fingers, mocking me. “Ohhhh, all sorts of spooky, witchy things — very secret ingredients.” Her brows knit into a frown. “Let us have the rye or I will say you caused all this damage.”

It seemed to me that I had no choice but to let them take the rye they wanted. I didn't think it would be missed anyway. “Where will you bake these cakes?” I asked.

“Over an open fire in the woods,” Ann Putnam answered, showing the large frying pan she held.

After they'd loaded their pan with rye, the girls left. Only then did I notice the black specks scattered through the remaining kernels of tan rye on the floor. I'd seen rye at home and had never noticed anything like this. I gathered a handful of the grain and poured it into my apron pocket.

After bringing my packages into the kitchen, I took a broom and some rags out to clean the root and grain cellar as best I could. The cellar was always cold, and especially so on a January afternoon, so I worked quickly to accomplish my task and move inside as soon as possible. I was almost done when Tituba appeared in the doorway, her black hair undone and disheveled — clutching a carving knife. Her eyes were lit with a wild fire.

“Tituba! What happened?!” I cried as she collapsed into me, too weak to stand any longer.

“Witches!” Tituba sobbed.

 

I sat with Tituba in the kitchen and listened to her incredible story. She had been outside scrubbing the lean-to floor when the same three women we'd seen drop the large maple appeared out of nowhere and surrounded her. Bronwyn was inside their circle, accompanied by the black dog. Tituba swore the dog spoke to her in a growl, intoning the words: “Serve me!”

“I will not serve you,” Tituba had insisted.

But then Bronwyn spoke. “We will cut off your head and return it to John Indian if you do not do as we say.”

Tituba told me that the three witches kept spinning in a circle, chanting a spell while Bronwyn instructed her to torment Abigail and her friends with a large knife. When she refused once more, the three witches began shrieking their evil words at top volume and Bronwyn placed her hand on Tituba's head.

All at once, Tituba felt herself rise up and leave her own body.

“You were on the astral plane,” I suggested breathlessly.

“I have heard of that and I think I was,” Tituba agreed. “And so were the witches, for they had my spirit ride on a branch as they were. They were controlling the branch and so I was compelled to go with them. I saw no trees or path, but presently we were in the woods. There I saw Mistress Abigail Williams, Mistress Betty Parris, Mistresses Elizabeth Hubbard, Ann Putnam, and several other girls cooking some kind of cakes over an open fire in the forest. They used one of our frying pans.”

“Was Althea with them?” I questioned, worried.

“No, Althea was not there.”

“Thank goodness.”

“The girls held hands and chanted words I did not recognize,” Tituba continued. “As I watched them, some terrible evil took over my spirit. The evil you call Bronwyn directed one of her witches to take over my spirit. I was there but I was no longer controlling my own actions. I poked Abigail with my knife, causing her to cry out. As I did this, I reached out and pinched little Betty Parris on the arm.”

“Could they see you?” I asked.

“I know they could because they faced me — or the entity that looked like me — as I slashed my knife back and forth. They begged me, ‘Tituba, stop!' And, Betty, I longed to stop; I did everything in my power to control the movement of my knife-wielding arm, but I was helpless. Then two others appeared in spirit. One was Sarah Good, the other was Sarah Osborne.”

“How did you know they were spirits?” I asked.

“Because they appeared from nowhere and I could see through them!”

“What did they do?”

Tituba shook her head forlornly and placed her hands over her eyes, as though she did not want to think about what had happened next. “The three of us tormented the girls, chasing them through the forest, kicking them, pulling their hair, jabbing them with sticks and my knife. But do you want to know something, Betty?”

“What?”

“I think those women were just like me. Something had entered them; the three witches were nowhere in sight during this. Your Bronwyn was doubled over, howling with vile laughter, but her minion witches were not near her as they usually are. I believe wholeheartedly that their evil spirits were inside of us women.”

“How did you escape?”

“I don't know. Suddenly I was back at the lean-to, sprawled on the frozen ground, all alone.”

“Are you positive it really happened?” I questioned. “Could it have been a dream?”

“I could have fallen sleep, I suppose. It seemed real, but when I tell it, the story sounds more like a dream.” She rose from the table. “Let us go check on Abigail and little Betty. If they show signs of their torment in the forest, we will know.”

Tituba and I ascended the stairs to the second floor, where the girls of the house shared a room. We were only halfway up the steps when we became aware of a commotion. Mrs. Parris was shouting, her baby was crying, and I heard loud barking.

“The black hound is back!” I cried, hurrying upward. But when I arrived in the bedroom, there was no black hound.

Little Betty was on all fours, growling at Reverend Parris as though she believed she was a dog. Just as I entered, she took hold of her father's pant leg and yanked on it as a dog might do, snarling all the while.

I immediately thought of the demonic black dog. Had its evil spirit entered little Betty?

“Betty, I'm warning you,” Reverend Parris bellowed at his daughter. “There is no humor in this. Desist at once!”

Abigail was bouncing on the bed, waving her arms and laughing maniacally. A mad smile played across her face and she seemed not to realize anyone else was in the room.

Tituba came in behind me, amazed and distressed by what she saw.

Mrs. Parris held her baby, who was wailing. She looked to Tituba for help. “What is happening?” she implored. “Why are they acting this way?”

Tituba was too stunned to speak and probably wouldn't have known where to begin anyway.

Reverend Parris suddenly let out a howl of excruciating pain. Little Betty had sunk her teeth deep into his leg and would not let go. She seemed not to notice that blood covered her face as she dug her teeth into her father's flesh.

“Stop! Stop!” Reverend Parris shouted and flung his daughter across the room. Little Betty hit a wall but it didn't seem to bother her. She was immediately back on all fours, barking at all of us.

Thomas Parris ran in. “Oh, they're faking!” he cried indignantly. “Can't you tell? This is all a grand performance.”

“Quiet, boy!” Reverend Parris demanded, stooping to wipe his bloody leg with a handkerchief. “The Devil's hand is in this!”

Abigail suddenly lost her crazy demeanor and let out a deafening scream. “She's pinching me! She's pinching me! Make her stop!” With a robust bounce from the bed, she scrambled under a straight-back chair and once more broke into peals of hysterical laughter.

Reverend Parris rushed out and soon returned with a black book. “These words will exorcise the demons from them,” he announced. He began to shout out passages from the book that exhorted the Devil to leave the premises, but it was to no avail. The girls did not cease their antics.

“What has happened to you girls?” Mrs. Parris pleaded. “Tell us! Please!”

Abigail came out from under the chair and stood, feet planted apart. “Tituba did this to us!” she shouted, pointing. “It's all her fault. She's a witch!”

All heads turned to stare at Tituba.

“I am no witch!” she defended herself.

Reverend Parris glowered at her. “You
are
a witch, Tituba,” he accused in a towering voice.

“No. It isn't so!” Tituba insisted.

“It is!” Reverend Parris intoned. “And by the power of the clergy, you stand accused.”

The next I knew, I was thundering down the stairs behind Tituba, sure I was the next to be accused.

T
ITUBA SOUGHT REFUGE IN THE WOODS. “YOU MUST GO
back,” she urged me. “If you hide here with me, it will be the same as admitting you are a witch. Reverend Parris did not accuse you.”

I knew she was right, and some time later I nervously returned to the parsonage. “Were you able to catch her?” Reverend Parris asked when I came in. He was sitting on a chair in the kitchen while Mrs. Parris attended to the bloody bite on his leg.

This question took me by surprise and left me speechless until I realized he'd misinterpreted my actions. He had thought that I was running after Tituba rather than fleeing right behind her.

“I did not, and I believe I was wrong to pursue her, sir,” I said. “I do not believe that Tituba is a witch. Whatever delirium has seized the girls has caused them to believe things that are not so.”

“Doctor Griggs has seen the girls,” Mrs. Parris told me. “He can find nothing physically wrong with them and has concluded that their ravings have all the indications of bewitchment.”

“If this is so, how can you be sure it is Tituba who is the witch?”

“Abigail named her. Betty seconded the accusation,” Reverend Parris said. “They also named Sarah Good and Sarah Osborne.”

I knew Abigail wasn't lying and neither was little Betty. They
had
seen Tituba in the woods, as well as the two Sarahs. The girls were telling the truth as best they understood it.

 

Several days later I met Tituba among the withered stalks of rye behind the parsonage. “My mother's book of spells is buried here,” Tituba told me. “It is our only hope.”

It wasn't easy to dig the cold winter ground, but Tituba and I banged at the hard earth, I with a hoe, and she with a shovel we took from the lean-to. We dug until a large patch of polished wood emerged from the dirt. Tituba tossed away her shovel and clawed the ground, pulling out the wooden box. When she pried it open, I saw a thick, worn leather book whose pages were so yellow and brittle I was afraid they would crumble and blow away if we dared to touch them.

Tituba opened to the middle section of the book. “We must banish this evil monster altogether — send it back where it came from.”

“Is that possible?” I asked.

“Of course it is. People have been doing it since time began.” She finally found what she'd been searching for. “Here it is!” A smear of dirt from her hands soiled the page but she paid it no attention. “These are the words the evil thing doesn't want to hear.”

The passage was long and written in tiny handwriting, so I didn't bother to read it then. “It must be said along with the protection of powerful talismans,” Tituba continued to read.

“What kind of talismans?”

“Objects to keep off the Devil and the evil eye.”

I lifted the necklace Aakif had given me from under the neckline of my dress. Tituba smiled. “Yes, like that. I know that type from the isle of Barbados, where I lived for many years before coming here. It might be the thing we need.”

Just then we heard boot steps crunching through the dead, fallen stalks of rye. Soldiers in gleaming breastplates and helmets approached us.

Tituba tossed the book of spells back in the hole and we both kicked dirt on it. I covered it with dead rye and then, on hands and knees, crawled into a thick patch of rye stalks. As the guards came closer, I lay flat on my stomach, face into the dirt, holding my breath.

Tituba was not as quick.

“Tituba the slave, you are under arrest,” the lead soldier boomed. “You are charged with the crime of
maleficium
, witchcraft. You must come with us.”

“I am no witch,” Tituba objected.

“Just the same, you must come and be tried. You have been accused.”

It was so hard not to look to the book of spells. If it were discovered so close to Tituba, it would not bode well. Fortunately, the guards were too busy shackling Tituba's wrists to notice it.

They marched her from the rye field and I lay flat and quiet a long time. Finally, when I felt certain they were gone, I got up and recovered the book of spells, and hurried off with it back into the parsonage.