"Vigilance is nothing without Faith," The Pastor spoke. He was a large man, towering over all else in the town. His eyes were clear as water, and his skin was weathered from age.
"There is a darkness among us." The Pastor had the church overflowing with folk. Everyone feared what lurked in the shadows. "It waits behind the veil of sin and gains entry to our body, soul, and mind when we least expect."
Hermione frowned at The Pastor's words. Evelyn, Hermione's babe sister, held tight to the golden cross worn around her neck. Evelyn feared most that she would be taken by the dark; she had told Hermione just the night before that the wood had spoke Evelyn's name.
"How can we prevail?" asked The Butcher. The Butcher's face carried deep lines of sorrow for the soul of his eldest son, who had succumbed to voices that called from the wood. Hermione still remembered the gut-wrenching wails of The Butcher's Wife, who had found her son hanging in the tree in town square.
"We must have faith." The Pastor always said the same things, but only Hermione seemed to notice. A town struck with fear would never notice their beacon of hope was nothing but repetitive verse.
Hermione's father would have her hide if he knew she had been struck with blasphemous thoughts. She would have to remember to say an extra prayer of forgiveness before bed.
"God will bring all evil to light," chanted The Tailor's Wife, who always took her seat in the pew behind Hermione's family. Emily, the Tailor's daughter, had been a friend of Hermione since they were small. Emily was to be married the following month, and if Hermione's father had his way, her betrothal wouldn't be far behind.
Hermione spent the majority of morning sermons reading the bible. It was the only book she had ever been allowed to read; Father kept his law books locked in his study. "A lady mustn't concern herself with the written word," he had said.
Betsey, the housemaid, had been the one to show Hermione other texts. Betsy had told Hermione to never let her father know she had been shown. Betsey had told Hermione of books that existed in Betsey's old home where she had been housemaid to a doctor.
"There are numerous ways to heal the body," Betsey had told Hermione. She described different herbs and tinctures that could be made to cure ailments. The Doctor that Betsey served had taken an interest in herbal medicines, and he had been hanged for it. The church claimed he made magic potions and persecuted him a witch.
Hermione dreamed of the forbidden knowledge that books held. She knew from listening to the scholars in the town that some cities inland had libraries filled with books. She hoped she would marry a scholar, so that she may have a chance to see a library for herself.
"I ask of everyone in this congregation to keep a keen eye for wickedness, and that any of you who bear witness to such crime report it at once to the church." The Pastor had a habit of using a lexicon that the common townsfolk would not know. Father had said it was a tactic that people in power used to show authority and prestige. Father always made sure that Hermione and Evelyn had an expanded vocabulary that would coincide with their economic status. Father was the town's persecutor of the law, and he used language as a weapon to confuse and to incite confessions.
"Am I a witch?" Hermione's babe sister whispered; her eyes brimmed with tears.
"Do not be silly, Evelyn." Hermione said. "A witch could not stand to wear a cross like you do around your neck."
"How does one know what a witch can or cannot do?" Evelyn gripped her necklace so tight she might have drawn blood.
"A witch has a pact with the devil." Hermione took Evelyn's hand from her cross and held it securely. "A devil's ward would be averse to Christ's imagery. God protects all who worship him."
"Is God a witch?"
It pleased Hermione greatly that Evelyn and she were so alike. Hermione remembered when she was Evelyn's age she often questioned everything. Hermione wondered what she should tell Evelyn. Father would have nipped Eveyln's curiosity and forbade her to think as such; that is what he had done with Hermione.
"How have you come to such a conclusion?"
"God created everything that we know out of nothing, is that not magic?" Evelyn chewed on the inside of her cheek. She often did that when she was deep in thought.
"You are too clever, Evelyn." Hermione said. "Perhaps there is such a thing as good magic, a magic that is reserved for God and all those who serve him."
"I think it would be nice to be a witch," Evelyn whispered. "A good one, that is."
"Good sermon," Father told The Pastor as they all exited the church. Hermione's family were always the last to leave. The church building served as the courthouse when there was a trial, and Father often stayed after sermon to speak with Judge Riddle.
"Good sermon," Hermione said as Father shook The Pastor's hand.
"Good to hear," The Pastor said. "I was worried I had lost you when I noticed you and Evelyn in conversation."
"Forgive me, Father." Hermione bowed her head. "Evelyn knew not of wickedness. I told her she should not concern herself with such things."
"Such is true." The Pastor turned his attention to Evelyn, who clutched Hermione's apron and hid her face behind Hermione's dress. "For too much knowledge on the subject will lead to wicked things themselves."
"You needn't worry about my girls," Father said. "There is not a thought that strays from the word of God in either their heads." Father sat his hand upon Hermione's shoulder and drew her and Evelyn under his arm. He had a way of still making Hermione feel like a child when she was embraced; but it was always with love and warmth that he held her. "Isn't that right, girls?"
Hermione and Evelyn nodded, neither The Pastor nor Father needed to know what went through their minds. It was for God to decide whether thoughts amount to sin.
They stopped at the Butcher to buy rabbits for supper. Betsey made the best rabbit stew; she promised she'd teach Hermione how to make it before Hermione was to be married. When Hermione was young, Betsey would take her into the wood to search for herbs to simmer the rabbits in; but recently Father insisted they only use ingredients from the shops in town.
"Evelyn, you mustn't speak during the sermon," Father said as they walked from the town's square to their home. "It is imperative that we not draw attention to ourselves."
Evelyn only nodded; her gaze was fixed to the cobblestone path that led up the hill towards the church. They lived only a few buildings down the hill from the church; Father had made sure of that when he became prosecutor.
The town was prosperous. The proximity to the sea gave surplus of fish to dry and trade inland, and the soil was rich and bore strong and healthy crop. Even the derelict and impoverished suffered not from famine, as there was more than enough to go around. Father made their home on the hillside where only the wealthy and powerful were welcome. The views were of the sea and the wood, spared from the shacks and unpaved roads of the necessitous who lived beyond the market square.
"Is something the matter?" Hermione asked. Father had been quiet since his meeting with Judge Riddle after the sermon. Normally they'd discuss The Pastor's interpretations of the Bible on their way home, and how they could bring his teachings into their lives.
"Nothing for concern." Father was stern, it was unlike him to be such a way. His face was harsh and surly, as it usually was when he was in court.
"Are you to prepare for a new trial?" Hermione asked. They were nearing their house now; Hermione could see the smoke rising from the chimney. Betsey always boiled water to warm a bath for Evelyn after church.
"There is to be a trial, but I will not have any involvement in the prosecution," Father said.
"I don't understand." Evelyn ran ahead of them into the home. The lights inside were warm and inviting after their long walk in the autumn chill.
"Judge Riddle has requested I not take part in the trial, on the grounds of my involvement with the guilty."
"Is he a great friend of yours?" Hermione asked. Father had prosecuted many people before that he had known. It had been his best friend many years ago who had been tried and hanged for murder.
"Hermione," Father stopped me before they entered their home. Hermione could hear Evelyn talking amiably inside. "You must promise me that you will be on your best behavior from now on. There is a great danger coming, and I will not have it taking any more of my family."
"Has something happened to Betsey?" Hermione asked. She could feel a tear well up in her right eye, threatening to spill.
"You mustn't shed a tear for her." Father wiped her face and rested his hands upon her shoulder. He always had a way of making Hermione feel so small. No matter her age, she was always a child to Father.
"Is she to be hanged?" Hermione asked. Hermione could be strong. She had faith that she could be strong.
"The courts are bringing in an expert to review her case." Father said. "We are all to be interviewed when he arrives."
"And then she will be hanged." Hermione knew the answer. Betsey was but a housemaid, and in the eyes of the town she was nothing but an animal. Betsey was more than that to Hermione, and to Evelyn. She had raised them when Mother had bled to death birthing Evelyn. She had sewn all their dresses and kept them fed. She had taught Hermione how to read beyond that of God.
"She will remain in the jails until the new prosecutor arrives. He will dock within the month." Father straightened his coat and made way towards the house. "Remember, Hermione. You mustn't do anything to draw attention to yourself."
"Of course, Father," Hermione said. She smoothed her skirt and followed Father into the house. Their new housemaid, who introduced herself as 'Molly', took the rabbit from Father's bag and began to prepare it for supper. Her stew left something to be desired.