Page 28 of Magic Lessons

“Of what, I’d like to know,” she said.

“Do you see how she is? Prideful,” the constable muttered to his brother constable. He would have caned her then and there if he hadn’t been so afraid of her powers. He did have the nerve to tear off the amulet she wore, with Cadin’s feather inside; and when she protested, he insisted her distress was proof of witchcraft. They led her away in chains they’d attached to the cuffs. She was informed she was being taken to the jail. In the morning, she would be brought to the courthouse.

“I have a child!” Maria protested. “You cannot separate us.”

Faith had followed them, clinging to the skirts of her mother’s nightclothes. The child was very quiet and pale. She did her best to recall the remedies and enchantments she’d seen in the Grimoire, but nothing suited this moment, other than one dark spell that caused flames to arise on the ground when you tossed down six black stones. But she had no such stones, and she was too terrified to call up any of the magic from Agrippa’s Occult Philosophy that had been carefully transposed into the Grimoire.

“I don’t know which words to say,” she told her mother.

Maria silenced her girl with a warning. “Say nothing.” She could already tell that any words they spoke would be used against them, and even a child might be considered an emissary from the sinister world these men imagined to be everywhere. “They will get what they deserve.”

“Do you hear this witchery?” the first constable said to his brother. They stuffed their ears with grass so they could not be further bewitched.

Maria had no choice but to take Faith with her, as women who were confined to prison often did. She had once passed the jail, a small wooden building on a leafy corner of Federal Street, and had heard childish voices from within, and the crying of babies. What sort of world is this? she had wondered. This second Essex County was in many ways worse than the first.

As they walked on, Maria took note of a woman standing on the path, a hood draped over her head to stave off the chill of the evening.

“What brings you here?” the first constable asked the woman who’d appeared in the field.

“I’m just a simple neighbor,” the woman said. “I cherish my town and am here to see a good result from tonight’s events.”

The woman now came to walk side by side with Maria. She was Martha Chase, who was at the heart of the events now conspiring. “I’m here for your sake, sister.” Martha was plain and pale and her mouth was set, but there were bright spots on her cheeks, perhaps caused by excitement or fever or perhaps a bit of both. She threw Faith a look and her gaze softened. “You don’t want them to take the little girl as well.”

Maria looked into the dark and saw silver eyes watching them. “Stay away,” she told the wolf, who had hidden in the darkness. She could not stand to have Faith see her wolf’s blood shed.

Martha took the message for Keeper to be meant for her. “I’m only a neighbor wishing to help. The child knows me.”

Maria glanced at Faith and saw in the girl’s eyes that it was true. “How so?”

“She was in Mrs. Hatch’s store. It was there we met.” Faith felt that she had done something wrong in keeping their acquaintance from her mother. “She likes buttons.”

“Does she?” Maria took more notice and recognized the woman as the one who had been speaking to Faith. So she had wanted something after all, and Maria thought it was likely she had come to the cabin to ask for a cure.

Martha introduced herself. She whispered that she was only a neighbor who wished mother and daughter well. “It’s said you have powers. Can you not speak words that would free you or enchant these men?” Martha urged. “Surely you can utter a curse and stop them in their boots. Be rid of them.”

Maria gave her a dark look. “Whoever told you that is what I do is wrong.”

“I mean no harm in saying so. But you don’t want a little one to be taken to that filthy jail,” Martha Chase said, now satisfied that Maria would not or could not defend herself by using the Nameless Art. “There are rats there, sister, who like nothing better than a sweet child. It’s damp and cold and many who walk in do not walk out.”

They had reached the field where the crows had been shot. There were sharp stones littered about that pierced Maria’s feet, or perhaps they were the thin bones of birds. She lifted Faith to carry in her arms. The girl was heavy, for she was already falling asleep, her head tucked against her mother’s shoulder.

“There have been children judged to have carried out witchery,” Martha Chase said. “They are beaten with switches, taken from their homes, treated like common criminals.” Martha had bathed in a wash of salt and vinegar that evening, to make certain she washed away her desire. She was now clean, a good and serious woman with a good deed in mind.

Maria had slowed down, for each step she took brought her closer to the jail. Hannah would never discuss the time when she was incarcerated, when she was believed to have a tail people said was cut off with a carving knife. Her jailors kept her naked, so that they could spy her tail the moment it began to grow back.

“Keep moving.” The first constable scowled, expecting treachery from Maria at any given moment. He wouldn’t be tricked again, and rather than touch Maria he shoved her in between her shoulder blades with the butt of his rifle. The grass was dewy and the hem of Maria’s nightgown was soaking wet. Faith was talking in her sleep, as Samuel Dias had been known to do, and although it was only a murmur, Maria understood her. “I want my dog, I want my bed, I want to sleep until morning.”

“Let me do this for you, sister.” Martha placed a gentle hand on Maria’s arm as she reassured her. “We are both women, and we understand a child’s needs come first. Give your burden to me.”

A drizzle had begun and Maria ran her hand over her daughter’s damp hair. She thought of how chilly a cell would be, for the floors were dirt and the walls bare brick. They were at the edge of the field where there would soon be sunflowers. Maria could hear them growing up through the earth right now.

“You must do so now while you still can,” Martha said. “Before we reach town and it’s too late. Do so and we can both praise God.”

It was dark as ash when Maria gave her daughter over into Martha’s arms. Faith grumbled and Martha hushed her. Maria looked over her shoulder and saw that the wolf was following.

“You’ll take her dog as well,” Maria urged. “She must have him.”

“A dog is the least of your worries.” As Martha leaned in close, Maria picked up the scent of something odd, as if a fire was burning inside of this neighbor of hers. “Make it so they pay attention to your actions and they will not pay attention to mine.”