I didn’t cry when Father died; it didn’t seem the most appropriate response. This makes it sound like father was an awful man whose death I didn’t grieve. That’s not true in the slightest. Father was a wonderful man. He raised us all on his own, me and the twins, Jane and Thomas. After Mother died, Father had to take care of all three of us by himself. That meant I learned to hunt, I learned to fix the cabin, and I learned to work the fields father rented from the Reverend Gideon. I learned to read, a skill which, after my acquisition of it, belonged only to me, father, the Reverend and a few other select men. I then had the distinctive honor of being the only woman in the village of Coventry who could read from the bible.
I know that these are not exactly appropriate skills to teach a woman. I can’t blame that on Father though…what else was he going to teach me? Certainly the man had no conception of keeping house to pass on to his children. That skill belonged to Mother, and she was already gone.
When father came down with the Consumption, he told me specifically that I must be prepared to take care of the twins. Father knew he was going to die. I knew it as well, despite him not telling me. I’d seen too many men waste away under the Consumptions curse to not know. It was also apparent that I didn’t have the luxury of tears. I might be ten and eight years old, but I am still a woman and soon I would be a woman with no husband and no father to protect her. What’s more, I am a woman who can hunt and read and work like a man. Without Father…the Reverend would never tolerate me in the village. Jane he would take, he would hand her off to another family for “correction”. Thomas would be fine. He is young, only fourteen like Jane, and they would treat him well. He is, after all, still not yet a man.
All of this ran through my mind while I watched Father waste away. He didn’t have to tell me what to do. I already knew. We could talk like that, he and I. Sometimes he just knew he’d taught me what to do, and I knew he trusted me to do it. Speaking without words, like I was an extension of himself, such was the bond between us.
After the funeral, as the others sat in the church sanctuary in mourning, I stole out through the side door and ran through the muddy fields to Father’s cabin. By the time I arrived, my boots and trousers were caked in mud.
Now as I slip in through the back door, which creaks noisily shut behind me. I know I have to hurry. We must be gone before the Reverend is aware of our departure.
I silently curse myself for not beginning preparations for our flight sooner. Regret comes too late as I race to grab two large bags from beneath Father’s bed. I divide a large wool blanket, a small hand ax, two knives, two extra sets of clothes, and as many boxes of matches and loaves of bread as I can lay my hands on between them.
I finish just in time. As I force the last of our provisions into the packs, I hear faint but familiar voices some ways off, but getting closer…getting closer much faster than I would like. I carefully look through the curtains of the cabin and my heart plummets. A crowd is approaching from down the path. They have already passed the Smith’s cabin and they will be at father’s doorstep soon. The Reverend is at the head of the group; he is unmistakable. Tall and gaunt, wisps of white hair flow from his head like thin clouds on a windy day. His nose appears long, hooked, and crooked, as if someone smashed it during his youth. His skin resembles a dry lakebed, cracked and worn.
Beside the Reverend in the crowd, I see a shock of red hair. Jane is with him. She is so small next to him. Her long red hair contrasts sharply with her pale skin, paler now in fear than any time I’ve ever seen it. Her green eyes are wide with terror and uncertainty. I scan the crowd for Thomas. His hair, the same shade as his twin sister’s, and bright green eyes should be unmistakable even amongst the throng. I don’t see him. Perhaps this is good. Maybe another family took him home already? That would likely be for the best.
As the crowd approaches, I duck back behind the curtains. I hear their voices approach, then stop at the porch of the cabin. An uneasy tittering fills the air outside the cabin. The whispered words “witch” and “curse” reach my ears, though I cannot see their speakers. The throng does not want to approach closer, it seems. Has the Reverend already bent their ears with tales of sorcery and black magick? Certainly he has never made a secret of his disdain for my “unholy masculinity”. Has Father’s death emboldened him to level accusations of witchcraft?
“Stay here then…keep the little one close!” The Reverend’s voice booms outside and commands the crowd into silence. Heavy footsteps shake the cabin and come to a stop outside the door.
BOOM! BOOM! The cabin shakes as the Reverend’s fist pounds on the door. “Open up, Mary!” his voice shakes me in my boots. I have no choice. He has Jane, and he knows I am here. I quickly push the two bags of supplies under the bed and out of sight. With them hidden out of sight, I rush to the door and pull it open to reveal the Reverend. his fist is raised to pound on the door again but he lowers it slowly when he sees me.
“Mary…” his voice is quiet and ragged now. It cuts against my ears like broken glass. The crowd is behind him. About twenty people shift on their feet and mill about on the muddy path. The murmur when they see me open the door but the Reverend raises a hand and they quiet immediately. Jane stands with them in the middle of the throng. Even at this distance, I can see her green eyes are fixed on me.
“Mary!” the Reverend’s voice snaps my attention back to him. “Mary, we are only here to talk to you. I want to talk to you about your future.” He pauses, waiting for my response. “May I come in?” he asks when no reply comes. The request is a formality…it is not really a request but a command. I could no sooner deny the Reverend Gideon entry in his own village than change the weather.
“Of course Reverend,” I reply softly. I drop my head and avoid his eyes as he pushes past me.
“Sister Mary” The Reverend falls into a seat by the dining table, a small thing with four rickety chairs in a circle around it. “Sister…Mary” his lips curl and he reaches into his jacket. I see his hand feeling inside for something. “Mary,” he quickly withdraws his hand and I flinch away. “Come sit with me,” he gestures to the table. In his hand is a small linen bag and a wooden pipe, which he packs with tobacco from the bag. “Sister Mary…please come sit with me”. Again, it is not a request.
Slowly, I cross the room and sink into the seat across from the Reverend.
“Thank you, sister Mary”. He strikes a match and raises the match and pipe to his lips and puffs gently, sending clouds of acrid smoke dancing around the kitchen. “Mary, we have a problem.” His voice is low but I have no trouble hearing him as he lingers on every syllable. He smiles and continues. “I am very sorry for your loss. Your father was a valuable member of this…community. Still, unfortunately, his passing presents me, or rather presents us, I should say, with some hard decisions to make.” He pauses and gazes at me for just a little too long. If he is expecting a response, I don’t give him one. My eyes stay fixed on the tablecloth. “We now have to decide,” he continues, “what is to become of you and your siblings? Your neighbors, the Smiths, have gladly agreed to take on Thomas. He is a good and dutiful child and they will take excellent care of him.”
The Smiths…not what I would have wished. Tobias and Martha Smith are good folk, but they are what Father called “narrow” in their thinking. Still, they will not abuse Thomas…this is good. Perhaps it is the best which can be hoped for in this situation.
“That leaves your sister Jane and you,” the Reverend continues. “Fortunately, I have a solution. Your father, as great a man as he…was, was neglectful in raising you and your sister in a fitting and godly manner. To remedy this, I believe it is best that you and Jane shall come to live with me and my wife.”
My head jerks up involuntarily, and I meet the Reverend’s eyes for the first time. When our eyes meet, his face twists into a wicked, sneering smile. “Jane shall have a home with us for as long as it takes to shape her into the woman she needs to be,” He continues. As for you, you shall have a home with us until we can find a husband to take care of you. I try to open my mouth to speak, but shock slows me down and I am too late to prevent him from continuing. “It is a long pastime for you to be wed and you are more than capable of doing so…perhaps you may even find him in my home…my son Matthew, perhaps.”
So this is his plan, then. He intends to place Thomas in a location where he can eliminate any sign of rebellion and ensure that Jane and I remain under his roof and under his control. I had guessed as much…and I had a plan for this…but I thought we had more time.
“That is…most generous…Reverend’’ I choke out. We are grateful to your family for opening your home to us”. I am desperately trying to find a way out of this. The bags are packed and hidden beneath the bed. All that needs to be done is to retrieve them and escape. I had planned to steal away. Tonight on the road, down the mountain to the river that runs through. Then. Valley below. There is a fisherman there…a friend of Father’s. I have never met him, but I hoped he might be able to help us. Perhaps he can take us in? Perhaps he can speed us on our way away from Coventry. Such is my hope, but I have to get away tonight with Jane. I cannot alert the Reverend…somehow I have to get Jane away. I have been quiet for too long…I must speak before the Reverend becomes suspicious.
“May we join you as soon as possible?” I have an idea and try to fill my voice with as much false gratuity as I can. The Reverend is a proud man, and he values obedience. Perhaps I can fool him…but I cannot oversell myself or he will know immediately that I mean to trick him. “Perhaps as soon as tomorrow? We can gather our things tonight and—”
“No.” The Reverend’s voice cuts through mine and my heart plummets like a stone into a stream. “No, you are to join us today…now. I am here to take you and Jane home with me. Gather your things and Jane’s and we shall depart.”
“But Reverend, what is to become of my Father’s things? Surely we cannot leave his home without some to—”
“Gather your things…now” He cuts me off again, his voice rising with impatience. He knows, at the very least, that I am stalling. Does he also know that I mean to flee with Jane?
“Very well Reverend” My head sinks again down to my chest. “May I at least have my sister’s help in gathering our things?” I had thought that Jane and I might steal away by cover of night, but…the Reverend seems to be one step ahead of us. Still, there might be a way yet. I refuse to give up hope. Trying and failing to escape is still better than resigning to the plan of correction the Reverend has in store for us.
He stares at me for a second…his blue eyes pierce me and I cannot escape the feeling that he is reading my mind. “Very well,” he says at last. He stands slowly and strides to the door. I follow cautiously behind. Outside, I see the mob again. They shuffle about with barely contained anxiety. The Smiths are present, along with the Marions, the Coopers, and the Butchersons. Even Ezra the Reverend’s. The closest lackeys. I now understand the purpose of this mob. They are here to make sure we are taken away…to ensure our compliance and prevent our escape.
“Jane!” The Reverend bellows! “Come here…gather your things”. Jane steps away from the crowd hesitantly and approaches the cabin. As she passes through the door, she looks up at me and I see her eyes up close. Tears blur the stunning green and her pupils are wide with fear. I grab her hand as she passes.
“We’ll be okay,” I whisper. “Get your things…we’ll be just fine, Jane.”
“Witch!” a scream echoes outside. “She is a witch and the little one is a witch in the making, reverend!”
“Mr Marion!” The Reverend’s roars as he steps onto the porch. “Mr Marion, I have heard your thoughts already, and I have decided! You will not question my decision!” The Reverend steps forward onto the porch and releases the door which swings closed behind him. His voice still bellows outside, asserting his dominance over Joshua Marion. I realize he cannot see us…that they cannot see us. This will not last long. It is now or never.
I grab Jane’s hand and pull her close. “Under the bed, grab the bags quickly”. Jane nods and rushes to the bed. Fear still fills her green eyes, and I see tears beginning to form in them. I want to stop and comfort her, but I don’t have the time.
“What’s happening Mary, where are we going?” Jane whispers urgently as she returns with the bags.
“Not now” I snap. “I’m sorry…please just trust me. Put the bag on”. Peeking out the window, I can see and hear that the Reverend is still berating Joshua Marion. This cannot last much longer. “This way!” I grab Jane’s hand and pull her toward the rear door. I put my bag on and grab one last thing from beside the door. It is father’s musket and his powder and bullets. “Quietly,” I whisper and push the door slowly open.
About 100 yards away, across the fields, lie the dark eaves of the forest that surrounds Coventry. The Blackwood they call it. A place haunted by specters, spirits and witches, they say. Under its branches. The sun can barely penetrate. Perhaps there is evil there, though if so, I have never encountered it when I hunted there with Father. The crowd outside titters anxiously again. Escape on the road is no longer an option…the forest might be the only way left.
“Come on, Jane” I whisper. “To the woods quickly and quietly.” I grab her hand as we rush toward the woods, crouching in the brush, which I hope will hide from us.
“Where are they?” Joshua Marion’s voice bellows behind us in the cabin. “The witch is gone!”
“Out the back! To the woods damned fool they’re making for the woods!!” The Reverend’s voice drowns him out. “After them!”
I stand up and run as fast as I can without pulling Jane over.
“There they are!”. They have spotted us, but the woods are close. We can make it! I hear heavy footfalls closing in behind.
“Stop Devil!” Joshua Marion screams out behind me. I look over my shoulder and see him barreling down on us through the corn. His eyes are wild with rage and anger, and his hair flaps wildly as he bounds toward us. Joshua Marion has always been superstitious, that fear of witches and Satan now seems to push him on with nigh devilish speed. He surely means to hurt us and he is closing in fast.
“Oh God, help us.” Jane gasps, pleading as I drag her through the field and closer to the wood. “Please, please help us,” she pleads.
As we sprint, I hear a snap and scream behind me. Casting a hasty glance over my shoulder, I see Joshua falling out of sight beneath the tall brush. He must have tripped on a root or hole, the snapping emanating from a cracking root.. or a cracking bone. Whatever the case, it is our salvation. As we pass under the eve of the forest, the sun disappears from the sky. Under the eve of the forest, the sun fades away from the sky. The darkness closes in around us as the leaves block out the sky. The shouting of the men behind us grows faint. Perhaps they stopped to help Joshua. Or perhaps the fear of devils and forest spirits keeps them at bay. Either way, I keep a firm hold on Jane’s hand and pull her deeper into the woods. We cannot be found. Joshua Marion has cried “witch”. We cannot return. So we plunge deeper into the woods and away from the village.