Page 11 of Damnation (Gallows Hill)

Chapter Nine

Sarah

I stand in Ingersoll’s tavern still and in waiting.

I had to spend the night in the jailhouse, which was cold, damp, and so very unnerving.

Tituba, Sarah Osborne, and I all stand shoulder to shoulder, though I cannot look at either.

I fear to incriminate myself, or worse, stoke anger in them.

I do not believe it for a moment that the Parris girls are to blame for my involvement.

Tituba all but threatened me. Sarah…well, she is one of the only people in Salem to know of my gifts, and the way she shakes tells me she will spill all of them to protect herself.

Over a dozen men line the walls as John Hathorne and Jonathon Corwin “examine” us.

“There be a witch among you three, do not try to deny it. Come forth of ye wrongdoings, and you shall receive protection,” Corwin speaks.

“Protection?” Osborne questions.

“Hathorne and I have agreed to offer dismissal for anyone who accepts the charge of witch and agrees to never again practice such sinful things.”

“As well as assisting us in sorting out any other witches that may lie in the village,” Hathorne adds.

“I object! I object strongly!” Reverend Parris thunders.

“This not be a court of law, but if it were, thou hast no authority. Stand down, Samuel,” Corwin speaks.

Parris crosses his arms similarly to how my Dorothy does when she is not able to get her way. I hear him grumble under his breath, his eyes like fire as they rake over each of us.

I stay silent, for I ought know better than to make a deal with the likes of them.

Especially when what they say is not true.

I am no witch. I have never cursed nor bewitched anyone.

I heal; I help. I harness the gifts and energy God has graced our lands with.

‘Tis not a crime, at least it ought not be.

I do not worship the Devil or any of the theories these men have conjured in their minds.

‘Tis not who I am, and I shall not cower to their threats, nor besmirch myself for falsities.

“I am a witch,” Tituba speaks, forcing my head to swing towards her in surprise.

“I knew it!” Parris exclaims.

“What about you? You?” Hathorne asks Osborne and I.

We both shake our heads, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Take Tituba back to the jail for now. Good, Osborne, undress.”

“What?” Osborne exclaims. “For what purpose?”

“To check ye over for witch’s teats. You heard the man,” Corwin says.

I shake my wrists together, attempting to silently remind the thick heads that even if we wanted to, we have no ability to do such things when we are shackled like prisoners.

Corwin’s eyes snap down to them as he nods to himself as if he thought of it.

“Undo their chains and remove their clothes, let us not leave an inch unturned.”

“I have no such things!” Osborne exclaims.

“Nor does Good,” Thomas speaks, though I cringe as he does. What a foolish man.

All eyes swing to him as Ingersoll begins undoing my chains and then Osborne’s.

“And how can you know that for certain?” Parris questions him.

Thomas does not falter, remaining steadfast in his confidence.

“Would we not have seen it already? We know this to be true; witches are the ugliest of lot. The darkness inside them rots them on the outside like a bad apple. Surely, we’d have already seen a witch’s teat if it lay there, no?”

“You heard Corwin, brother, we must be thorough,” Edward Putnam smirks as he comes to me, his repulsive fingers quickly undoing my buttons.

Anger slashes across Thomas’s face as he approaches his brother, shoving him towards Osborne as he takes his place.

I can feel the difference in Thomas’s touch.

‘Tis soft, gentle, begging for forgiveness with each brush.

No amount of forgiveness can absorb the humiliation that consumes me as the cold air nips at my bare skin.

Several men whistle and clap in celebration as Osborne and I stand bare.

“Spread them!” a man calls out from the back, rewarded with a ruckus of cheers.

Edward smirks as he reaches around Sarah, lifting each breast to show the lot, not before he pinches her nipple hard, even sucking one into his mouth.

I cringe at the horrific act as Thomas does the same to me, but with dignity.

He quickly and thoroughly lifts my breasts, proving there be no sign of a witch’s teat.

They look for anything from a large freckle or mark, even a third nipple.

I already know to be true I have none, though.

When Edward bends Sarah over before spreading her bottom, I know what shall come next for me. Thomas looks at me with regret, speaking feather light as he pushes me down.

“Close your eyes, my love. We’re nearly done.”

A tear rolls down my face as I do what he commands, and I do not open my eyes until I feel the familiarity of my clothes being wrapped back around me. Thomas’s nimble fingers quickly button me up, resting a comforting hand upon my lower back before stepping away.

“No teats, as I said.”

“Aye,” Edward agrees. “Though I quite enjoyed that,” he says with a salacious lick of his lips.

More laughter and cheers erupt as Corwin shakes his head like he is in on the fun. I look to see Osborne half dressed before Ingersoll is shackling her once more. Tears are streaming down her face, and despite our past, all I care to do is comfort her in this moment.

“Bring in the girls,” Hathorne says.

A door is opened, and little Betty Parris and Abigail Williams walk into the tavern. They are clinging to one another like they are struck with fear, but I cannot for the life of me fathom why.

“Girls, are these your tormentors?” Parris asks them.

Both of their eyes come to mine, and I see the truth in an instant. Betty looks truly frightened, sharing nervous looks with her cousin. Abigail, though, her fear is a farce. A smile is pulling at the corners of her mouth like she is playing a game.

“Yes!” Abigail screams. “They have pinched us and scratched us. See?” she says, exposing her arms that bear deep red scratches.

I withhold the roll of my eyes at her nonsense; they cannot believe such lies.

They can, though. The men are impassioned with anger as they glare at Osborne and myself.

I am not the only one outraged by the falsities, though.

To my left, I hear near silent murmuring.

My eyes move to see Osborne’s mouth moving as she stares at the young girls, especially Abigail.

Osborne’s mouth moves faster and faster as that playful smile on Abigail’s face disappears, her mouth shaping an “O” as she screams in pain.

Abigail drops to the floor, clutching her belly as she begins to scream.

“What has happened?” the reverend shouts in a panic.

Osborne’s head turns to face Betty before she, too, drops to the floor.

My eyes round with understanding. Sarah Osborne. She harnesses the dark magic. I never knew this. How did I not know?

“She’s a witch,” I say to myself, unaware it slipped from my mouth before Edward speaks.

“What? What did thee say!?”

“Witch! She said witch, I heard her true as day!” Thomas Preston shouts.

William Griggs, the town’s doctor, rushes to the girls, giving them what appears to be a quick examination before looking to us both.

“Witches! They have bewitched the girls for the truth they speak!”

Unrest erupts as bodies begin shoving and pushing into us. Fists are flying and several land upon me. I cry out before I feel a pair of hands tug me to the side. Thomas.

“Enough! This shall not be how we conduct so. Good spoke out against Osborne, surely that provides immunity per thy terms?” he barters.

The crowd settles and nods as Osborne looks to be with outrage.

“Yet she be the biggest witch of all! She provides my shop with tonics and remedies she creates through witchcraft!”

I look at her in outrage as she continues on.

“I have seen it! She conjures spells and places magic on all she touches!”

The crowd becomes restless once more, pushing and shoving Osborne and I before Corwin and Hathorne intervene.

“That be the end of it! Enough! Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne, ye both are hereby under arrest for suspicion of witchcraft. You shall be granted a hearing when we are able to gather such. Till then, you shall remain at the jail in Ipswich. Take them away!”

Hands grab me, ripping me out of the tavern. I scream and fight against their hold as I’m dragged out to the street, tossed to the ground like a heap of waste. I clutch my growing belly with protection as pain fills me.

Thomas rushes over, crouching down to help me stand.

“My love, are you hurt?” he asks, his hand resting upon my belly.

“Thomas! What do I do?” I cry.

“Do as they say. We will sort this,” he assures. “We will prove your innocence.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I’m not innocent, though. What Osborne spoke was the truth, but there is more to it than such. Thomas sees the confliction on my face and frowns, as if he can read my own mind.

Phillip Lewis walks by us, holding onto Osborne as he forces her onto his horse before climbing on behind her.

“Come on, Putnam. I want to be off. The sooner we jail them, the better.”

Thomas looks like he is wavering on his next move when I am ripped from Thomas’s grasp.

“Not a worry, Lewis. Walcott will take Good. My brother and I have matters to handle,” Edward says as Jonathan Walcott takes hold of me, forcing me up onto a horse before he climbs on himself.

Before Thomas can object, we are off at a gallop.

I turn to see Edward holding Thomas back, shouting into his face.

Thomas’s eyes do not leave my own until we round the corner.

The fear, anxiety, and turmoil swirling inside me is almost too much to handle as I bounce upon the horse.

What a rough ride it will be for the ten mile ride to Ipswich.

All I can manage to think about is my Dorothy, the baby in my belly, and… Thomas.