the war. Then they fell like wolves upon the innocents of Winton and slaughtered Sir Benjamin and others to whom they had pledged peace and friendship.”
“Many details remain unknown,” James said. “And I want justice for Sir Benjamin.”
“He had his justice,” Knapp said. “The savages who did it are dead. They are quite extinct in these parts.”
The deputy governor nodded. “Goodman Knapp speaks truth. We punished the Indians of Sachusett for their villainy. Drove them into the wilderness and pursued them without remorse. When we overtook them at last, we freed the Widow Cotton from her captivity, and then, when the natives refused generous terms, finished matters at Crow Hollow.”
James resisted glancing at Prudence Cotton. He assumed she was still there by the door. “So I have heard,” he said, leaving a note of skepticism in his voice.
“What more evidence do you need?” Knapp demanded. “I rammed the sachem’s head on a spike myself. It sits outside the Winton meetinghouse next to the heads of wolves and other vermin. I hanged three of the murderer’s sons and two of his brothers. I burned the savages’ village to the ground.”
“Who is the savage?” Peter said in a quiet voice.
Knapp whirled. “Good men are dead because of them, you son of the devil. Either you hold your tongue, or so help me I’ll—”
He stopped and his eyes widened. “Widow Cotton!”
C HAPTER S IX
Prudence froze at the door as the five men bored into her with their gazes.
What are you doing? Go, run.
Reverend Stone looked stern and disappointed, Deputy Governor Fitz-Simmons more annoyed than anything; Knapp stared. She didn’t meet his gaze. Knapp had bought her husband’s lands in Winton, and rumor had it he wished to plow more than the dead man’s fields. In that, Prudence had no interest whatsoever.
As for the strangers, James looked momentarily concerned, before his expression changed to calculating, scheming. He may not welcome her presence, she decided, but now that she’d supplied it, he meant to turn it to his advantage. Peter Church barely glanced at her and looked pale and sickly, as if he’d eaten a bad piece of fish.
“What do you want?” Fitz-Simmons asked. The annoyance deepened on the deputy governor’s face.
“I heard what you were saying,” she began, faltering.
“And what business is that of yours? Reverend, have you no mastery within your own household?”
Stone sputtered at this but fixed his anger in Prudence’s direction, not at the man who’d challenged him. “You weren’t invited to this meeting. Go home.”
“I want to know what she’s doing here first,” Fitz-Simmons said.
“She suffers from childish curiosity, that is all. I’ll see that she’s disciplined later. My wife will get to the bottom of it.”
Why was Prudence here? After the evacuation of the meetinghouse following Peter Church’s outburst and the subsequent scuffle, she’d had no intention of hanging about to find out what they intended to do with the two strangers. Only on her way home did she remember James’s shocking suggestion that she meet him at the Common at dusk.
No, she would not. She wasn’t Lucy or Alice Branch, the servant girls, who had been whispering breathlessly about James when they thought nobody was listening.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
The words from her husband’s Shakespeare folio had seeped into her conscience as she had approached the Stone house with her sister’s children in tow. And then she had another thought—and almost cursed herself for her foolishness.
James didn’t want to meet her on the Common to satisfy his lusts. He’d read her pages, that’s what. The chapter about her daughter. He wanted to help. So she’d entered the house and immediately slipped out the back door as if going to the privy, but really to hurry back up the hill to the meetinghouse.
Except now that Prudence was here, facing these men in defiance of clear
“Many details remain unknown,” James said. “And I want justice for Sir Benjamin.”
“He had his justice,” Knapp said. “The savages who did it are dead. They are quite extinct in these parts.”
The deputy governor nodded. “Goodman Knapp speaks truth. We punished the Indians of Sachusett for their villainy. Drove them into the wilderness and pursued them without remorse. When we overtook them at last, we freed the Widow Cotton from her captivity, and then, when the natives refused generous terms, finished matters at Crow Hollow.”
James resisted glancing at Prudence Cotton. He assumed she was still there by the door. “So I have heard,” he said, leaving a note of skepticism in his voice.
“What more evidence do you need?” Knapp demanded. “I rammed the sachem’s head on a spike myself. It sits outside the Winton meetinghouse next to the heads of wolves and other vermin. I hanged three of the murderer’s sons and two of his brothers. I burned the savages’ village to the ground.”
“Who is the savage?” Peter said in a quiet voice.
Knapp whirled. “Good men are dead because of them, you son of the devil. Either you hold your tongue, or so help me I’ll—”
He stopped and his eyes widened. “Widow Cotton!”
C HAPTER S IX
Prudence froze at the door as the five men bored into her with their gazes.
What are you doing? Go, run.
Reverend Stone looked stern and disappointed, Deputy Governor Fitz-Simmons more annoyed than anything; Knapp stared. She didn’t meet his gaze. Knapp had bought her husband’s lands in Winton, and rumor had it he wished to plow more than the dead man’s fields. In that, Prudence had no interest whatsoever.
As for the strangers, James looked momentarily concerned, before his expression changed to calculating, scheming. He may not welcome her presence, she decided, but now that she’d supplied it, he meant to turn it to his advantage. Peter Church barely glanced at her and looked pale and sickly, as if he’d eaten a bad piece of fish.
“What do you want?” Fitz-Simmons asked. The annoyance deepened on the deputy governor’s face.
“I heard what you were saying,” she began, faltering.
“And what business is that of yours? Reverend, have you no mastery within your own household?”
Stone sputtered at this but fixed his anger in Prudence’s direction, not at the man who’d challenged him. “You weren’t invited to this meeting. Go home.”
“I want to know what she’s doing here first,” Fitz-Simmons said.
“She suffers from childish curiosity, that is all. I’ll see that she’s disciplined later. My wife will get to the bottom of it.”
Why was Prudence here? After the evacuation of the meetinghouse following Peter Church’s outburst and the subsequent scuffle, she’d had no intention of hanging about to find out what they intended to do with the two strangers. Only on her way home did she remember James’s shocking suggestion that she meet him at the Common at dusk.
No, she would not. She wasn’t Lucy or Alice Branch, the servant girls, who had been whispering breathlessly about James when they thought nobody was listening.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
The words from her husband’s Shakespeare folio had seeped into her conscience as she had approached the Stone house with her sister’s children in tow. And then she had another thought—and almost cursed herself for her foolishness.
James didn’t want to meet her on the Common to satisfy his lusts. He’d read her pages, that’s what. The chapter about her daughter. He wanted to help. So she’d entered the house and immediately slipped out the back door as if going to the privy, but really to hurry back up the hill to the meetinghouse.
Except now that Prudence was here, facing these men in defiance of clear
Similar Books
