wrong? He was the magistrate of their village, and was speaking to her as if she were one of his prisoners. “’Tis I, Jonathan Nichols.” She smiled at him, but didn’t hide the questioning in her eyes.
“ You have been accused by Sarah Nichols of witchcraft, Mary Wilds. What say you, are you guilty of witchcraft, of which you are suspected, or not?” Jonathan felt as if his heart would surely break. He had no choice but to do as the judge told him. If he refused his life would be ruined.
“ If it please you, Jonathan Nichols, I know nothing of witchcraft.” Turning her head and eyes about to take in the crowd that had now gathered, fear began to build in the pit of her stomach. “I take all these people to witness that I am clear of this accusation, Sir.”
Fern and Rowen stood back and witnessed the frightening scene before them. Rowen wanted to see Jonathan, but not like this. It took everything in his power to keep from jumping on the man when he turned Mary around and pushed her against the wall, then cinched the shackles to her wrists as if she were a common thief. They both stood staring into Mary’s eyes where her face was pressed against the wall, watching in horror as her tears rolled down her cheeks in a silent plea for help. They couldn’t intervene, history forced them to stand and witness what must take place. Fern’s heart was breaking; Rowen’s fists were doubling.
* * * *
“ Mary, where do you be, girl?” The old woman crept through the house, dragging her wooden cane behind her. “Speak girl!” It took her all night to drag her old bones back from the Northfield’s. Casting spells always made her hungry. “Mary! I have found your cross.” Her screechy voice was even unnerving to her. Where was that girl? Stopping at the base of the stairs she looked up, listening for any sound from up above. She had her foot on the first step when she remembered what day it was. Old age was taking her mind before she was ready. “It is time for thee to save thine only child.”
Scooting her tired feet back to her chair, she sat again and read from her book.
The 17 th generation will try to fool you. But be thou not a fool, lest your curse will fall but on thee.”
She let the pages flutter through her crooked fingers before returning the bound book to its place next to her chair. She felt the bones of her spine grate against each other as she made her way up the stairs. She kept her book of spells hidden in her bedchamber.
* * * *
Rowen and Fern stayed in the village long enough to watch Mary be thrown into the back of a wagon and hauled off to the village jail. The villagers screamed at her, “To the gallows you go witch, to hang for your sins.” Rowen had to hold Fern back from running after the children when their mothers allowed them to chase the wagon, throwing rocks at Mary as they went.
“ Oh Rowen, how can we be expected to allow this to happen? We’re from the future, surely we can tell them that what they are doing is wrong.” As she watched the wagon make its way down the cobblestone road, Fern saw Jonathan turn on the buckboard to look down at Mary where she sat huddled against the side of the wagon. It wasn’t until Jonathan’s head rose toward them that she realized her Vizard had fallen away from her face. “Oh my God Rowen, he saw me.”
“ Fern, I told you to be careful. Here, let me help you fix it.” After he tucked it back in place he took her hand and led them away from the village. “I don’t think he noticed you, Fern. I’m sure he was too distraught over what he’d just done to see anything beyond Mary.”
“ I didn’t see any remorse in his eyes, Rowen. How could he do that to Mary if he is supposed to love her? This place is wicked, I want to go home, now!” Yanking her hand free she ran ahead of him, wiping her hot tears as she went.
Rowen caught her just as they were crossing back over the Wooleston Bridge. “Fern stop! Now look at
“ You have been accused by Sarah Nichols of witchcraft, Mary Wilds. What say you, are you guilty of witchcraft, of which you are suspected, or not?” Jonathan felt as if his heart would surely break. He had no choice but to do as the judge told him. If he refused his life would be ruined.
“ If it please you, Jonathan Nichols, I know nothing of witchcraft.” Turning her head and eyes about to take in the crowd that had now gathered, fear began to build in the pit of her stomach. “I take all these people to witness that I am clear of this accusation, Sir.”
Fern and Rowen stood back and witnessed the frightening scene before them. Rowen wanted to see Jonathan, but not like this. It took everything in his power to keep from jumping on the man when he turned Mary around and pushed her against the wall, then cinched the shackles to her wrists as if she were a common thief. They both stood staring into Mary’s eyes where her face was pressed against the wall, watching in horror as her tears rolled down her cheeks in a silent plea for help. They couldn’t intervene, history forced them to stand and witness what must take place. Fern’s heart was breaking; Rowen’s fists were doubling.
* * * *
“ Mary, where do you be, girl?” The old woman crept through the house, dragging her wooden cane behind her. “Speak girl!” It took her all night to drag her old bones back from the Northfield’s. Casting spells always made her hungry. “Mary! I have found your cross.” Her screechy voice was even unnerving to her. Where was that girl? Stopping at the base of the stairs she looked up, listening for any sound from up above. She had her foot on the first step when she remembered what day it was. Old age was taking her mind before she was ready. “It is time for thee to save thine only child.”
Scooting her tired feet back to her chair, she sat again and read from her book.
The 17 th generation will try to fool you. But be thou not a fool, lest your curse will fall but on thee.”
She let the pages flutter through her crooked fingers before returning the bound book to its place next to her chair. She felt the bones of her spine grate against each other as she made her way up the stairs. She kept her book of spells hidden in her bedchamber.
* * * *
Rowen and Fern stayed in the village long enough to watch Mary be thrown into the back of a wagon and hauled off to the village jail. The villagers screamed at her, “To the gallows you go witch, to hang for your sins.” Rowen had to hold Fern back from running after the children when their mothers allowed them to chase the wagon, throwing rocks at Mary as they went.
“ Oh Rowen, how can we be expected to allow this to happen? We’re from the future, surely we can tell them that what they are doing is wrong.” As she watched the wagon make its way down the cobblestone road, Fern saw Jonathan turn on the buckboard to look down at Mary where she sat huddled against the side of the wagon. It wasn’t until Jonathan’s head rose toward them that she realized her Vizard had fallen away from her face. “Oh my God Rowen, he saw me.”
“ Fern, I told you to be careful. Here, let me help you fix it.” After he tucked it back in place he took her hand and led them away from the village. “I don’t think he noticed you, Fern. I’m sure he was too distraught over what he’d just done to see anything beyond Mary.”
“ I didn’t see any remorse in his eyes, Rowen. How could he do that to Mary if he is supposed to love her? This place is wicked, I want to go home, now!” Yanking her hand free she ran ahead of him, wiping her hot tears as she went.
Rowen caught her just as they were crossing back over the Wooleston Bridge. “Fern stop! Now look at
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