Part 26 (2/2)

”I'll send a servant to inform Elias Garrick he won't be needed at the gaol until... what time would you say, Ben?” Bid-well asked with all innocence. The doctor didn't answer, but instead watched the blood that continued to collect in the cup. ”What say, Ben?” Bidwell lifted his eyebrows.

Woodward heard Dr. s.h.i.+elds give a heavy sigh. Then the doctor answered, ”Two o'clock would be sufficient. Depending, of course, on the magistrate's desire to return to his task.”

”Well, that's most of nine hours from now!” Great exultation was evident in Bidwell's voice. ”Surely you can be rested and ready to continue the trial by then, Magistrate?”

”I'm not sure. I feel so poorly.”

”Well of course you feel poorly at the moment, but a few hours of sleep will do wonders for you! Isn't that right, Ben?”

”He may feel stronger later in the day, yes,” s.h.i.+elds said, with lackl.u.s.ter enthusiasm.

Bidwell grinned broadly. ”There you have it! I should want to get out of this room and do something constructive, myself.”

Woodward was hurting and his mind was fogged, but he knew precisely what Bidwell's prime interest in his health concerned. He was of the opinion that the sooner he completed the trial and delivered sentence, the sooner he might quit this swamphole and return to Charles Town.

”Very well,” he managed to say. ”If I am able, I'll hear Mr. Garrick at two o'clock.”

”Wonderful!” Bidwell almost clapped his hands with joy; his obvious disregard for the magistrate's condition earned him a dagger of a glance from Dr. s.h.i.+elds, but he paid no heed. ”I'll make certain Elias is at the gaol promptly on the hour.”

Shortly afterward, the servant girl returned to the room with the pan of cool water, a cloth, and a cup of rum. When Dr. s.h.i.+elds saw that nearly four ounces of blood had dripped into the bowl, he said, ”Mrs. Nettles, help me sit him up, please.” Together they got the magistrate up to a sitting position. ”Lean your head forward,” s.h.i.+elds instructed him, and he immersed the cloth into the water and pressed it tightly against the incisions. ”I have a brown jar in my case,” he told the servant girl. ”Fetch it out and open it.” s.h.i.+elds scooped out some of the thick amber-colored ointment-a mixture of honey, pine oil, and hogsfat- and smeared it over the wounds. He repeated the process, and in so doing sealed together the edges of the cuts.

Woodward was light-headed. He felt sick to his stomach, but his breathing was so relieved that he didn't care. ”Drink this down,” s.h.i.+elds said, holding the rum cup to the magistrate's lips, and Woodward finished it off with three gulps. His throat flared again as the liquor scorched it, but after the rum was consumed he did feel so much the better.

”You should sleep now,” s.h.i.+elds said. ”I'll go directly and make up the liniment.” He gave the bleeding bowl to the servant girl. ”Dispose of this and return the bowl here when you're done.” She accepted it, but held it at arm's length. s.h.i.+elds returned the lancet to the leather sheath. ”We will have to bleed you again tonight,” he said to Woodward, ”lest the condition recur.” Woodward nodded, his eyes glazed over and his mouth numb. s.h.i.+elds turned his attention to Bidwell. ”He should be looked in upon every hour. I'll return at ten o'clock to apply the liniment.”

”Thank you, Ben,” Bidwell said. ”You're a true friend.”

”I do what has to be done,” s.h.i.+elds replied, returning his implements and medicines to the carrying case. ”I trust you will do likewise?”

”You may rely on me.”

”Magistrate, lie down and keep this cloth pressed against the incisions, as there may be some leakage.”

”Mrs. Nettles,” Bidwell said, ”will you see the doctor out?”

”No need.” s.h.i.+elds closed his case and picked it up. Behind his spectacles, his eyes were dead. ”I know the way.”

”Thank you for your help, doctor,” Woodward whispered. ”I do think I can sleep awhile.” He heard the first c.o.c.k crow outside.

s.h.i.+elds left the room and went downstairs. At the bottom of the staircase he was stopped by the servant girl who had attended him. She said, ”Doctor, suh? Will you be needin' this?”

”Yes,” he replied, ”I think I shall,” and he took from her the jug of rum she had uncorked. Then he continued on his way, out into the somber gray light and chilly drizzling rain.

Before Hannibal Green arrived at the gaol with the prisoners' breakfast of biscuits and eggs, Matthew and Rachel received another visitor.

The door, its broken chain yet unmended by the blacksmith, was opened and there entered a slim black-suited figure, carrying a lantern with which to illume the murky confines.

”Who is that?” Matthew asked sharply, as the person's stealthy approach alarmed him. He'd awakened to a ragged chorus of rooster crows a short time previously, and had just finished relieving his bladder in his waste bucket. He was still in a bleary state, which caused him to fear for a few seconds that Satan himself had come to visit Rachel.

”Quiet, clerk!” came the stern reply. ”Tis not thee I have business with.” Exodus Jerusalem, his prune of a face painted ruddy gold by the candlelight, wore his tricorn hat pulled low over his forehead. He pa.s.sed by Matthew's cage and aimed the light toward Rachel. She was was.h.i.+ng her face from her water bucket, her ebony hair wet and slicked back.

”Good morning to thee,” the preacher said. She continued as if no one had spoken. ”Well, thou canst be mute if thee please. But thou should not play at being deaf, as I have some words of interest.”

”You're not supposed to be in here,” Matthew said. ”Mr. Green is-”

”The entry was not locked, was it? And as a commander in the army of G.o.d, I have a right to visit the battlefield, do I not?” He cast Matthew a bone-freezing stare, and then looked again upon Rachel. ”Witch Howarth?” he said, his voice silken. ”I had a very enlightening dinner with Mr. Bidwell and the magistrate last night.” He felt no need to reveal that he had for the most part invited himself to dinner at the mansion, and had taken his sister and nephew there with him. While he had feasted at the banquet table, his relatives had been seated at the smaller table in the kitchen where Mrs. Nettles ate. ”Mr. Bidwell was a genial host,” Jerusalem went on. ”He entertained me with the particulars of thy offenses.”

Rachel began to wash her arms. ”Thou hast committed murders and vile wickedness,” the preacher hissed. ”So vile it dost take mine breath away.”

Something about Jerusalem's voice made Matthew speak up. ”You should remove yourself from here. You're neither needed nor wanted.”

”Of that I am sure. As I said, clerk, I have no business with thee, but take care lest thy haughty demeanor draw down misery.” Jerusalem dismissed Matthew with a slight lifting of his pointed chin. ”Witch Howarth?” he implored. ”Thy motives intrigue me. Wouldst thou tell me why the Devil hast embraced thee so fondly?”

”You're half crazed,” Rachel said, without looking at him. ”And the other half is a raving lunatic.”

”I shouldn't think thee would fall to the ground and kiss my boots. But at least we have moved beyond the silence of a stone. Let me pose this question, Witch Howarth: dost thou not know the power I possess?”

”Power to do what? what? Make an a.s.s of yourself!” Make an a.s.s of yourself!”

”No,” he replied calmly. ”The power to free thee from thy prison.”

”What? And walk me to the stake?”

”The power,” he said, ”to banish Satan from thy soul, and therefore save save thee from the stake.” thee from the stake.”

”You're mistaking your power with that belonging to Magistrate Woodward,” Matthew said.

Jerusalem ignored him. ”I will tell thee a tale,” he offered to Rachel. ”Two years ago, in a new settlement in the Maryland colony, a young widow by the name of Eleanor Peyton found herself in the same predicament as thee. Cast into a cage, she was, on accusation of witchcraft and the murder of her neighbor's wife. The magistrate who heard her case was a right true man of G.o.d, and breached no affronts by the Devil. He sentenced Madam Peyton to be hanged by the neck. But on the night before her gallows dance, Madam Peyton confessed her sins and witchcraft to me. She sank to her knees, spoke the Lord's Prayer in a reverent voice, and begged me to oust Satan from her soul. The Evil One caused her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to swell and her private parts to water, and these afflictions I attacked by the laying on of hands. Her salvation, though, did not come easily. That night it was a tremendous battle. The both of us struggled mightily, until we were drenched in sweat and gasping for G.o.d's air. At last, just before the dawn, she threw her head back and released a scream, and I knew it was the sound of Satan tearing loose from the depths of her innermost being.” He closed his eyes; a slight smile played across his mouth, and Matthew imagined he must be hearing that scream.

When Jerusalem's eyes opened once more, some trick of the candlelight gave them a reddish glint. ”At first light,” he said to Rachel, ”I p.r.o.nounced Madam Peyton freed of the Devil's claws, and therefore pet.i.tioned the magistrate that he should hear her confession before the torches were flamed. I said I would stand as a witness for any woman who embraced Christianity and engulfed it with such pa.s.sion. The end result was that Madam Peyton was banished from the town, yet she became a crusader for G.o.d and travelled with me for some months.” He paused, his head c.o.c.ked to one side. ”Art thou listening to my tale, Witch Howarth?”

”I think your tale exposes you,” Rachel answered.

”As a man who careth deeply for the right ways of women, yes. Thy breed is so easily led astray, by all manner of evil. And thus thy breed leadeth men astray as well, and woe be to the tribe of Adam.”

Rachel finished was.h.i.+ng and pushed the bucket aside. She lifted her gaze to the preacher. ”You seem to know a great deal about evil.”

”I do. Both from without and within.”

”I'm sure you are most interested in the ins and outs, especially concerning my breed.”

”Thy mockery is well aimed, but falls short of the mark,” Jerusalem said. ”In my youth-indeed, for most of my life-I myself walked the dark path. I was a thief and blasphemer, I sought the company of doxies and reveled in the sinful pleasures of fornication and sodomy. Indeed, I ruined the souls of many women even as I reveled in their flesh. Oh yes, Witch Howarth, I do know a great deal about evil.”

”You sound prideful of it, preacher.”

”My attraction to such matters was a thing of birth. I have been told by many doxies-and good widows, too-that my member is the largest they have ever seen. Some admitted it took their breath away.”

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