“I’m just doing my duty,” William said meekly. He was unsure of Ronald’s state of mind.
“Show me the papers,” Ronald demanded.
William shrugged, and after searching through the debris on the top of his desk, handed Ronald Elizabeth’s mittimus and her execution warrant. Ronald read them and handed them back. Reaching into his purse, he pulled out a few coins. “I want Elizabeth moved and her situation improved.”
William happily took the money. “I thank you, kind sir,” he said. The coins disappeared into the pocket of his breeches. “But I cannot move her. Capital cases are always housed on the lower level. I also cannot remove the irons since they are specified in the mittimus to keep her specter from leaving her body. But I can improve her condition in response to your kind consideration.”
“Do what you can,” Ronald said.
Outside, it took Ronald a moment to climb into the carriage. His legs felt unsteady and weak. “To Magistrate Corwin’s house,” he said.
Chester urged the horse forward. He wanted to ask about Elizabeth but he dared not. Ronald’s distress was much too apparent.
They rode in silence. When they reached the corner of Essex and Washington streets, Ronald climbed down from the carriage. “Wait,” he said laconically.
Ronald rapped on the front door, and when it was opened he was relieved to see the tall, gaunt frame of his old friend Jonathan Corwin standing in the doorway. As soon as Jonathan recognized Ronald, his petulant expression changed to one of sympathetic concern. Immediately he ushered Ronald into his parlor, where he requested his wife give them leave to have a private conversation. His wife had been working at her flax wheel in the corner.
“I am sorry,” Jonathan said once they were alone. “~’Tis a sorry welcome for a weary traveler.”
“Pray tell me what to do,” Ronald said weakly.
“I am afraid I know not what to say,” Jonathan began. “It is an unruly time. There is a spirit in the town full of contention and animosities and perhaps a strong and general delusion. I am no longer certain of my thoughts, for recently my own mother-in-law, Margaret Thatcher, has been cried out against. She is no witch, which makes me question the veracity of the afflicted girls’ allegations and their motivations.”
“At the moment the motives of the girls are not my concern,” Ronald said. “What I need to know is what can I do for my beloved wife, who is being treated with the utmost brutality.”
Jonathan sighed deeply. “I am afraid there is little to be done. Your wife has already been convicted by a jury serving the special court of Oyer and Terminer hearing the backlog of witchcraft cases.”
“But you have just said you question the accusers’ veracity,” Ronald said.
“Yes,” Jonathan agreed. “But your wife’s conviction did not depend on the girls’ testimony nor spectral demonstration in court. Your wife’s trial was shorter than the others, even shorter than Bridget Bishop’s. Your wife’s guilt was apparent to all because the evidence against her was real and conclusive. There was no doubt.”
“You believe my wife to be a witch?” Ronald asked with disbelief.
“I do indeed,” Jonathan said. “I am sorry. ’Tis a harsh truth for a man to bear.”
For a moment Ronald stared into the face of his friend while his mind tried to deal with this new and disturbing information. Ronald had always valued and respected Jonathan’s opinion.
“But there must be something that can be done,” Ronald said finally. “Even if only to delay the execution so I have time to learn the facts.”
Jonathan reached out and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “As a local magistrate there is nothing I can do. Perhaps you should go home and attend to your children.”
“I shan’t give up so easily,” Ronald said.
“Then all I can suggest is you go to Boston and discourse with Samuel Sewall,” Jonathan said. “I know you are friends and classmates from Harvard College. Perhaps he may make a suggestion with his connections with the Colonial Government. He will not be disinterested; he is one of the justices of the Court of Oyer and Terminer, and he has voiced to me some misgivings about the whole affair, as did Nathaniel Saltonstall, who even resigned his appointment to the bench.”