“Nay, sir,” Goodman Allen interrupted mildly. “I have seen that when the birch is wielded too oft at school, it must also be used many times at home and, for myself, the task is one that I like not.”
There was a murmur of laughter and assent.
“In my belief,” added another, “a woman can lead our lads and lasses better than a man and there is much other work for men to do.”
“Then know this,” cried Skerry, striding out into the center of the room while the children watched him in round-eyed wonder; “know that this woman has broken our laws and betrayed our faith, that she has given help and comfort to the Papist priest who for years lived hid in the forest, within the very bounds of our Colony. I myself saw him read his mass in the garden and saw his altar decked with the candles made by her hands. Shall our children be taught by one who is a friend of Popery?”
The crowd of men drew together and a buzz of wondering whispers began. Did the shoemaker really know? Could such a terrible accusation be true? Roger Bardwell stepped forth from among them and stood beside Margeret.
“Listen not to him, good people,” he said. “Such wrong as Mistress Margeret may have done in the eyes of the law was accomplished innocently and when she was but a child. Whatever aid and comfort were given to the French father, that night he slipped through Hopewell and escaped to France, came through my fault. Lay the blame upon me.”
“He can bear a good share of it,” clamoured Skerry, his voice rising, along with his anger, “but the whole of it cannot be his. I saw them there together, worshipping with the Indians and the Jesuit priest, I saw them later talking to that outcast Papist in the garden, three of them, this maid, that boy, Roger Bardwell, and another—that precious Master Simon whom you all revere so much.”
“What?” “No! Not Master Radpath!” Cries of amazement and horror arose from the crowd. Surely not their idol, Master Simon!
“Ask them both if it be not true,” cried the shoemaker, pressing his advantage home, “and ask this fellow further who he is and whence he came. Ask him if his father was not the most notorious enemy to religion in New England, who sat in the stocks in Plymouth and was imprisoned to await more serious punishment in Boston, whence he escaped, no man ever knew whither. Ask him, good sirs, and see him grow pale and hesitate.”
That Roger grew pale was quite true but that he hesitated was not.