“We find Tituba, the Indian, and Marie de Guilfort guilty of witchcraft.”
“And the sentence of this court is that you both be taken hence and hanged by the necks until ye both are dead, and may God have mercy on your souls,” came from the judge.
The fatal words scarce were uttered when Lucille rose from her seat. Her face was the color of the white snow outside. She reeled, and would have fallen, had I not sprang toward her, catching her in my arms, and carrying her to the fresh air without. I held her, hardly knowing what to do with the lovely burden, until some women, who had hastened from the court room came up and relieved me. Then like one in a dream I made my way to the tavern. I was aware of a multitude following the prisoners to the gaol, crowding about the unfortunates, as if rejoicing at their distress. Then I left the assemblage behind, and went into the inn, where I drank deep of the ale to try and drive from my mind the memory of what I had observed.
’Twas but a few hours since I had reached Salem, yet I had seen strange sights. I had been near to death, I had been witness to the scarlet snow, and I had heard the words of doom pronounced. Truly events moved with no little speed in this new land.
The day passed, and I did not leave the inn. The darkness fell. There came a confused murmer from the centre of the town. Some men passed the tavern, running in the direction of the little hill, whence I had first found the right path, in my journey of the night before. They were hastening to the place of execution. I went to bed with a heavy heart. And I dreamed strange dreams of horrid witches.
I rose as soon as it was light, but, early as I was, the inn keeper was before me. He told me the two prisoners had been hung that night, and, though I desired greatly to question him concerning Lucille de Guilfort, I forebore. However, he spoke of her soon, telling me that she had been with her cousin to the last. The gaolers had to drag them apart, when they led Marie to the scaffold. After the execution Lucille had gone to her home in great distress, attended by some women folks, who vainly tried to console her. It made my blood boil to think of the matter, and, when my hand fell to my sword hilt, I felt that I would ask no better work than to lay about among some of these witch-finders.
But there was other work ahead of me. I must soon begin to plan for the raising of my men, as desired by Sir William.
CHAPTER IV.
HOW I CAST THE KNIFE.
I soon began to take up the threads of the life in Salem, since it was like that I would be there for some time to come. Now that I look back over it I am constrained to say that in no place had I ever found men and women who made of life so serious a business. Yet, with all, there was much to admire in them. The witch craze appeared to have passed, though it left scars behind, and sad remembrances for some.
I made the acquaintance of many who came to the inn, and learned much of the new land and its people. I resolved, as soon as the weather should grow milder, to look about and see what sort of soldier material I might expect among the recruits. I must also learn something of the country roundabout, as well as of the red men of the forest who inhabited it. Every day I sallied from the inn, and took long walks. The weather was growing mild now, and the snow was melting from off the hills and meadows.