The gavel banged. "Silence!" barked Captain Talcott.
Goodwife Cruff, who had leapt to her feet in anger, grudgingly sat back down.
Kit sighed with relief. Another close call. She needed someone to defend her, and quick! As if in answer to her prayer, the door of the courtroom swung open, and in stalked- Mercy!
Yes, it was Mercy, looking even more pale and sickly once out of bed. She staggered once, but recovered and kept moving forward. Her chin jutted out defiantly, and she swung around to face the jury. "Gentlemen of the board of magistrates," she began, her quiet voice slowly gaining strength. "I come before you to defend my cousin, Katherine Tyler."
The spectators murmured amongst themselves for a moment, then fell silent. Goodwife Cruff was staring unblinking at Mercy, her pale eyes burning with hate.
Mercy wet her lips, slightly unnerved. But she cleared her throat and continued her speech. "My cousin is no witch," she declared, as if that settled it.
Goodwife Cruff was now grinding her teeth. Mercy looked away, instead locking eyes with the head magistrate. "She is a kind, intelligent person, no different from the rest of us."
"She is different!" someone shouted. "She can swim!"
Mercy blinked. "Well." She faltered.
Kit stood. "I do swim," she said loudly. "But so does everyone, where I come from. Just ask Nat Eaton."
Nat, who had been leaning quietly against the doorframe, started. He recovered quickly. "That's right," he said, pretending not to notice the eyes of the entire courtroom on him. "The richest ladies of Barbados all go for a swim on hot days. And I've met them, too. Respectable, God-fearing women they all are." Having said his piece, he crossed his arms and leaned back.
Kit smirked briefly, then sat.
Mercy shifted her weight. She could feel Goody Cruff's eyes boring into her, but she resolutely looked away.
"But the sick children." someone tried.
Mercy shook her head. "There's always some sort of illness every year, you know that. You don't need witchcraft for that. Besides, a doctor cured me. Would the cure have worked if it were not a perfectly natural disease? And need I remind you that Kit was afflicted as well?"
The person coughed to cover his burning cheeks and sat down.
"The children fear her," growled Cruff.
"Nonsense!" said Mercy confidently. "They love her!"
"The afflicted ones see her and that Tupper woman in their dreams," Goody Cruff countered.
"I'm afraid that cannot be proven," cut in Captain Talcott.
"You don't need proof!" shrilled Goody Cruff, as if that were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.
Her husband winced. "Stop that infernal screeching, woman!" he bellowed at her.
"Screeching!" screeched Goody.
The courtroom began to titter. They stopped when the Cruff woman glared them down. "I saw them," she said quietly. "They were in my dreams, and a tall black man joined them, and they all started dancing, and-"
"That," said Captain Talcott, and this time there was an edge to his voice, "Cannot be proven."
Goody Cruff blanched. "My apologies," she muttered, although she didn't sound particularly apologetic. More resentful than anything.
Captain Talcott nodded. "You may choose a different argument," he conceded.
Goody bobbed her head in thanks. "Katherine," she addressed Kit, "You acted out the Holy Book when you were part of the dame school."
Kit fidgeted. That part was true. What to say.
Once again, Mercy came to her rescue. "She did. And I for one think it was a brilliant idea. Children can't learn by having things pounded into their heads. But now- Just ask any of them. You can bet they won't be forgetting the story of the Good Samaritan anytime soon!"
The courtroom began to murmur. But this time, they seemed to be leaning towards Kit's side. The two girls grinned at each other.
The magistrates huddled.
Kit wrung her hands.
Goodwife Cruff glared.
But Mercy knew. She was certain that her speech had worked, that Kit was innocent.
"Innocent," said the head magistrate.
Mercy smirked inwardly. She'd been right.
Now, Kit would go free, and the witch hunters would have to keep their opinions to themselves. Mercy beamed at all the court, and then fainted.
She was sick, after all.
Goodwife Cruff, who had leapt to her feet in anger, grudgingly sat back down.
Kit sighed with relief. Another close call. She needed someone to defend her, and quick! As if in answer to her prayer, the door of the courtroom swung open, and in stalked- Mercy!
Yes, it was Mercy, looking even more pale and sickly once out of bed. She staggered once, but recovered and kept moving forward. Her chin jutted out defiantly, and she swung around to face the jury. "Gentlemen of the board of magistrates," she began, her quiet voice slowly gaining strength. "I come before you to defend my cousin, Katherine Tyler."
The spectators murmured amongst themselves for a moment, then fell silent. Goodwife Cruff was staring unblinking at Mercy, her pale eyes burning with hate.
Mercy wet her lips, slightly unnerved. But she cleared her throat and continued her speech. "My cousin is no witch," she declared, as if that settled it.
Goodwife Cruff was now grinding her teeth. Mercy looked away, instead locking eyes with the head magistrate. "She is a kind, intelligent person, no different from the rest of us."
"She is different!" someone shouted. "She can swim!"
Mercy blinked. "Well." She faltered.
Kit stood. "I do swim," she said loudly. "But so does everyone, where I come from. Just ask Nat Eaton."
Nat, who had been leaning quietly against the doorframe, started. He recovered quickly. "That's right," he said, pretending not to notice the eyes of the entire courtroom on him. "The richest ladies of Barbados all go for a swim on hot days. And I've met them, too. Respectable, God-fearing women they all are." Having said his piece, he crossed his arms and leaned back.
Kit smirked briefly, then sat.
Mercy shifted her weight. She could feel Goody Cruff's eyes boring into her, but she resolutely looked away.
"But the sick children." someone tried.
Mercy shook her head. "There's always some sort of illness every year, you know that. You don't need witchcraft for that. Besides, a doctor cured me. Would the cure have worked if it were not a perfectly natural disease? And need I remind you that Kit was afflicted as well?"
The person coughed to cover his burning cheeks and sat down.
"The children fear her," growled Cruff.
"Nonsense!" said Mercy confidently. "They love her!"
"The afflicted ones see her and that Tupper woman in their dreams," Goody Cruff countered.
"I'm afraid that cannot be proven," cut in Captain Talcott.
"You don't need proof!" shrilled Goody Cruff, as if that were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.
Her husband winced. "Stop that infernal screeching, woman!" he bellowed at her.
"Screeching!" screeched Goody.
The courtroom began to titter. They stopped when the Cruff woman glared them down. "I saw them," she said quietly. "They were in my dreams, and a tall black man joined them, and they all started dancing, and-"
"That," said Captain Talcott, and this time there was an edge to his voice, "Cannot be proven."
Goody Cruff blanched. "My apologies," she muttered, although she didn't sound particularly apologetic. More resentful than anything.
Captain Talcott nodded. "You may choose a different argument," he conceded.
Goody bobbed her head in thanks. "Katherine," she addressed Kit, "You acted out the Holy Book when you were part of the dame school."
Kit fidgeted. That part was true. What to say.
Once again, Mercy came to her rescue. "She did. And I for one think it was a brilliant idea. Children can't learn by having things pounded into their heads. But now- Just ask any of them. You can bet they won't be forgetting the story of the Good Samaritan anytime soon!"
The courtroom began to murmur. But this time, they seemed to be leaning towards Kit's side. The two girls grinned at each other.
The magistrates huddled.
Kit wrung her hands.
Goodwife Cruff glared.
But Mercy knew. She was certain that her speech had worked, that Kit was innocent.
"Innocent," said the head magistrate.
Mercy smirked inwardly. She'd been right.
Now, Kit would go free, and the witch hunters would have to keep their opinions to themselves. Mercy beamed at all the court, and then fainted.
She was sick, after all.