Part 18 (2/2)
”There was just... more sin and vileness after that. The witch turned over, on her hands and knees, so her rear quarters was showin'. Then that half-man, half-woman took its spike in hand and squatted down atop her. I saw... things no Christian should e'er have to witness, sir. I tell you, before I seen them sights I was all right in the head. Now I ain't. You ask my Patience. She'll tell you, I'm no good for nothin' no more.”
”This creature that was half-man and half-woman penetrated Madam Howarth with its p.e.n.i.s?”
”Yes sir. The creature pushed its yard in from behind.”
”Let us move past those particulars,” Woodward said, his face blanched. ”What was the aftermath of this incident?”
”The what, what, sir?” sir?”
”The aftermath. What happened after the creature had...” He paused, seeking the proper word, ”... finished?”
”It got up off her and walked away. Then the witch stood up and took to dressin' herself. All a' sudden I heard my name spoke, right up next to my ear, and I whipped 'round to see who it be.”
”And did you see?”
”Well... I was mighty scairt. There was a man standin' behind me... but I don't think he had no face. 'Cept a mouth. He did have a mouth... I 'member that. He said, 'Jeremiah Buckner, run home.' That's all. I must'a done what he said, 'cause next thing I knew I was a'layin' in bed, sweatin' and shakin'. Patience was hard asleep, conjured most likely. I heard a c.o.c.k crow, and I knew then that the demons of the night was pa.s.sin'.”
”Did you in the morning, then, tell your wife what had happened?”
”No sir, I didn't. I was shamed to tell Patience such things. And I was scairt, too, that the witch might kill her for hearin'. I didn't tell n.o.body, not even after I heard what Elias Garrick seen. Then Lester Crane told me Stephen Dunton seen such a thing- them three creatures with the witch, 'cept they was doin' their wickedness inside the house where the Poole family used to live, right next to Dunton's farm. Still I held my tongue.”
”What made you decide to tell what you'd seen?” Woodward asked. ”And who did you tell?”
”I decided... after they found them poppets in the witch's house. I went straight to Mr. Bidwell and told him all of it.”
”I should like to speak to Mr. Dunton,” Woodward said to Matthew. ”Make a note of that, please.”
”Cain't,” Buckner said. ”He took his family and they left, back two month ago. Dunton's house since burnt down. Lester Crane and his brood lit out 'bout the same time.”
Woodward paused for a moment, ordering his thoughts. ”Did you know Daniel Howarth?”
”Yes sir.”
”What kind of man was he?”
”Oh, he was but a youngster. Maybe forty, forty-five year old. Big man, he was. Took a right demon to lay him low, I'll grant you!”
”Did you have occasion to see Mr. Howarth and his wife together?”
”No, not much. Daniel kept to hisself. Wasn't a social kind of man.”
”And what about his wife? Was she social?”
”Well... I don't know about such. Daniel and that woman been here maybe three year. He had a sizable piece a' land, bought it from a Dutchman named Niedecker. That man's wife had pa.s.sed in childbirth, the child died too, so he decided to give it up. Daniel was always a quiet man. Never needed much help at anythin', seemed like.” Buckner shrugged. ”The woman... well, mayhap she did try try to be social. But it just caused a stir.” to be social. But it just caused a stir.”
”A stir? What kind of stir?”
”Look at her, sir. If you can bear it, after what I've told you. She's betwixt a n.i.g.g.e.r and a Spaniard. Would you care to share a pew with her?”
”The witch attended church?” Woodward raised his eyebrows.
”That was 'fore she took to witchcraft,” Buckner explained. ”She only come to church two or three Sabbaths. Wouldn't n.o.body sit near her. Them Port'a'geeze got a whiff about 'em.”
”So she was not welcome in church, is that correct?”
”She could do and go as she pleased. Wasn't n.o.body gonna stop her from enterin' Our Lord's house. But I recall the last time she showed up, somebody-and I know who it was, but I ain't sayin'-pelted her with a rotten egg a'fore she could come in. Hit her right a'side the face. You know what she done?”
”What?”
”She sat down in a pew with that egg smellin' as it did, that mess all in her hair, and she nary made a move 'til Reverend Grove said the last Praise and Amen 'bout four hours later. 'Course, he did rush it some, that smell in the church as it was.”
Matthew was aware of a movement from the corner of his eye. He looked up as he finished scribing the last line-and there was Rachel Howarth, standing next to the bars, her teeth gritted and an expression of sheer ferocity on her face. Her right arm was lifted and swinging forward, a gesture of violence that made Matthew shout, ”Magistrate!”
The shout itself most possibly caused Woodward to lose the remaining few hairs on his scalp. He twisted his head around as well, and Buckner gave a garbled cry of terror and raised a hand to protect his face from what he was sure would be Satanic flame.
There was a loud crack! crack! at the end of the woman's blow against the bars. Fragments of dark reddish-brown clay fell into the straw. Matthew saw that in her right hand was the cup's grip, the rest of it smashed to smithereens. at the end of the woman's blow against the bars. Fragments of dark reddish-brown clay fell into the straw. Matthew saw that in her right hand was the cup's grip, the rest of it smashed to smithereens.
”I am done with my tea,” Rachel said. She opened her hand and dropped the largest bit of the cup into their cell. ”That is is how Lucretia Vaughan wanted it returned, is it not?” how Lucretia Vaughan wanted it returned, is it not?”
”Yes, it is. And thank you, Matthew, for your help in emptying my bladder. Will you collect those pieces for me, please?” The magistrate blotted his face with his sleeve and attempted mightily to control his galloping heart. Matthew had to bend down on his knees and reach into the woman's cell to gather up all the shards. She stood over him, an intimidating presence to begin with but now-due to farmer Buckner's tale-absolutely fearsome, even though Matthew had the benefit of clear-headed reasoning.
”Wait,” she said as he started to rise. Her hand came down and plucked up a small piece he'd missed. ”Take this one, too.”
She placed it in his outstretched palm, which he immediately withdrew between the bars.
Woodward put the fragments into Madam Vaughan's basket. ”Let us continue, please, though my mind is as shambled as that broken cup.” He rubbed his temples with both hands. ”Matthew, do you have any questions for the witness?”
”Yes, sir, I do,” he answered readily, and then he prepared to scribe his own inquiry. ”Mr. Buckner, how long have you depended on that cane?”
”My cane? Oh... eight, nine year. My bones are poorly.”
”I understand that you were terrified that night in the orchard. Terror can strengthen a man's legs, I know. But when the person behind you said, 'Jeremiah, run home,' did you actually run?”
”I don't know. But I must'a, 'cause I got back to my bed.”
”You don't recall running? You recall no pain to your legs?”
”No,” Buckner said. ”I don't recall.”
”By which door did you enter your house?”
”Which door? Well... I reckon the back door.”
”You don't remember which door?”
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